Promise of Hunters Ridge

by Sarah Barrie

  ‘Lovely morning to talk murder,’ Russ commented, then shuffled around in his briefcase. ‘Have you seen the paper yet?’ He dropped it on the table. The front page headline glared at them. DETECTIVES SCRATCH THEIR HEADS WHILE THE DEVIL HEADS WEST, NUMBERING VICTIMS.

  Ben swore. ‘He overheard us talking before he announced himself last night at the crime scene.’

  ‘I sincerely dislike that man,’ Indy snarled. ‘Anything new come up overnight?’

  ‘Expecting miracles? You know how long it all takes. While we’re waiting, we need to begin retracing every step Cathy Sharpe has taken, contacting everyone she’s spoken to in the last few weeks. We need to figure out how Littleton found her. How he picked her as his next victim.’

  ‘It might help if we were able to track the missing hunters,’ Stuart suggested. ‘They must know something about Littleton’s movements.’

  ‘If there’s a chance for Littleton to regroup, he’s sure to. But those names the hunters in custody gave up—just like the ones on the website—aren’t helping because they’re mostly aliases. And the guy who was running the website had their signals bouncing through so many countries it’s been impossible so far to track them down. I’m not sure it’ll do any good anyway. Of course I want them found and locked up, but the mentality of that group suggests to me that Littleton would most likely be considered an outcast after the hunt was ruined and Mia cut him.’ He ran a hand along the back of his neck and squeezed his eyes shut.

  ‘You all right, Ben?’ Indy asked.

  ‘Just a long night. I might head to Silverwater Prison anyway. Regardless of whether or not Littleton’s still a part of the group, one or more of the hunters might know what the hell he’s playing at with this number five and the ponytail. Either or both could have significance to someone within the group. Stansky might talk.’

  ‘You think?’ Indy asked doubtfully. ‘Last time you spoke to Stansky, you tangled him up in so many knots he blubbered and went into the foetal position.’

  Ben covered a smirk. ‘I don’t know why, I only asked him a few questions. Stuart, you go with Russ, chase up the coroner.’

  ‘Me? Can’t Indy go?’ Stuart asked, far from impressed.

  ‘I need Indy for something else.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Scared of the coroner, Stu?’ Indy asked.

  Stuart scowled. ‘No. I just have more important things to do than stare at a dead body I’ve already seen.’

  ‘You haven’t seen the inside,’ Indy helpfully pointed out with a pleasant smile.

  Stuart glared at her, then his gaze darted to Ben as he shook his head. He wordlessly walked out.

  When both men had left, Indy got up. ‘I consider Stuart only one small step up from Davis.’

  ‘Keep it civil, Indy,’ Ben warned. ‘He’s part of our team.’

  ‘I heard that when he did his autopsy viewing during training he threw up.’

  ‘He needs to be able to handle it. Familiarise himself with the people and the routine.’

  ‘I hope he loses his lunch.’

  He didn’t need this today. ‘It’s not like you to be nasty. What’s going on?’

  She flopped onto the corner of his desk. ‘He’s a showpony. Just this morning, when I stepped out of the car, he wolf-whistled and made some comment I couldn’t quite catch that had some male officers chuckling along with him. I want to slap that chauvinistic smile off his face.’

  ‘If he keeps it up, file a report. I’ll speak to him when he gets back.’

  ‘Thanks. What’s the next move?’

  ‘I was hoping you could go talk to Cathy’s housemate again, see what you can find out about Cathy’s habits, friends, routines—you know the drill.’ Ben took another look at his watch. ‘If I’m going to visit the prison I want to get out there early. I’ll see you later.’

  CHAPTER

  3

  Mia crouched beside a weeping gum and experimented with some shots of the river. An early shower of rain had given way to the sun, leaving the landscape looking fresh and alive: perfect for the images she was hoping to capture. When Jasper ran into the water, splashing, the birds complained before settling back onto their branches or flying away.

  She couldn’t get over the birds out here, the numbers, the variety. A flock of noisy galahs flew in and hung from trees, squawking and swinging like pink and white clowns, then, in another flurry of flapping and screeching, they moved on and peace returned. As Jasper sat beside her and she set up another shot, smaller birds, shyer species, began to appear. A wren flitted down just a few feet in front of her and snatched a worm from the bank where earth gave way to sand. She missed the shot, intent on the landscape itself and capturing just the right angle to show off the beauty of the timeless river waking up from the long night, basking in the warmth of the new day. She wanted this framed, not only for the gallery, but for the cottage, to put on the wall above the television.

  Bird sounds intensified—a wattlebird? No. She carefully adjusted the direction of the camera, focused on the prettily patterned bird hopping around in the rivergum. A regent honeyeater. Critically endangered, rarely seen. She focused in closer, took some shots. She knew Dale, an avid birdwatcher from the local conservation group, would be pleased to see them. When the bird disappeared, she returned to her original shot. She took a few more. Then the moment was gone as a long band of fluffy white cloud still tinged with apricot moved across the sun.

  Satisfied she had what she needed, Mia got to her feet, stretched, then looked around again to identify the source of a sudden loud noise as her hand went to the gun tucked neatly into her pocket.

  Just a wallaby down for a drink, startled by her presence into bounding back into the undergrowth.

  She took a breath and relaxed. It wasn’t paranoid to be aware, to be vigilant. No one was particularly happy about her traipsing around the bush alone. But she wasn’t giving up her freedom, her work, because of Rob Littleton. She had her weapon, and she was a good shot—a very good shot. She’d be damned if she’d cower to the fear of him, the threat.

  She packed up her equipment and when she slung the bag carefully over her shoulder, Jasper lifted his mottled head in question.

  ‘Yeah, we’re off. Think you can rouse yourself?’

  He pulled himself to his feet, bowed backwards on long legs in a stretch and yawned.

  Mia chuckled. ‘Some hunting dog you would have made.’

  They followed the short trail back to the cottage, up onto the veranda, past the little tables and comfy chairs she spent so much time in, and inside. It would have been heaven to spend another three or four days in the cottage, but she had a contract waiting for her in the city.

  She caught sight of herself in the mirror as she changed her clothes. She’d been blessed with a slim yet curvaceous figure, but over the last few months, the relentless exercise had sharpened off most of its softness. Ally was right, the muscle definition was obvious. She decided she looked stronger than might be considered attractive, but vanity came in a poor second to survival. She twisted, found the scar at the base of her spine, traced it with her finger. That brand had pushed her through the harder days of training, stopped the memory from fading in her mind.

  She pulled a brush through her mane of long, copper-blonde hair. The blue eyes that stared back at her, so like her sister’s, were bright enough. A touch of make-up would hide any stubborn hints of shadow beneath them. She hadn’t slept well again. She was too alert, too tuned in to every sound, every possible threat. Hypervigilance is what Ally called it. Mia refused to believe she was anywhere close to suffering the symptoms Ally was still occasionally tormented by thanks to post-traumatic stress disorder, so when the terms for what she also experienced came too easily to mind, she changed her focus. She wouldn’t put a label on her weaknesses. That would only make them real.

  Nothing got to Mia—she could handle anything. It was what people thought. What people expected. It was an image she intended o
n holding on to, because the longer she could hold on to it, the longer she could almost believe it. And she had to believe it, or she couldn’t do what needed to be done.

  A sound outside the window caught her attention and had her pressing her face to the glass cautiously. It was only Jasper playing in the garden. She scanned the tree line anyway. Being out here was almost daring him to come. She wanted it over.

  Once dressed, she walked into the office and slid the last of the designs for her jewellery advertisements into a display folder. She could present the completed work to the clients digitally but to her mind, the effect was always better in a large print. She was particularly pleased with these results and happy to have the ads completed, because she had other projects that couldn’t be pushed back any further.

  With everything gathered up, she left the cottage and locked the door behind her.

  ‘Come on, Jasper. Let’s go say bye to Ally.’

  She packed the car carefully, then drove the short distance up the hill. Ally had obviously just pulled up a moment before her and was taking Chloe out of her car.

  ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I just beat you back.’

  ‘Did you have a lesson on?’ She let Jasper out and took Chloe, snuggling her playfully. ‘I miss her already. When you get sick of her, can I have her?’

  ‘She’s all yours every night from ten till six. And yes, lesson. Lucy and Coco are entering their first elementary dressage test this Sunday.’

  Mia smiled at the mention of Lucy, the student that had convinced Ally to start teaching again. ‘She must be doing well.’

  ‘She’s nervous, but keen. Which reminds me … I have eleven students competing. Any chance you could play official photographer for us for the day?’

  ‘I’ll be back by then, so sure. No problem.’

  ‘Thanks. I was just going to make lunch. Cam’s dropping back. You want some?’

  ‘I would, but I’m going to have to head off. I’ve got a few things to sort out before tomorrow’s shoot.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘High-end kids’ clothes at Darling Harbour. It’s going to be twenty-six degrees and they want the children licking gelato. I refused to guarantee the safety of the clothing.’

  ‘As would I.’

  ‘Then another menswear shoot in the afternoon.’

  ‘Big day.’ Ally grabbed her bag from her car and swung it over her shoulder, taking Chloe from Mia. ‘Thanks. Drive safe.’

  ‘See ya. In the car, Jasper,’ Mia ordered, opening the door. She clipped on his harness and he stretched out; he knew the harness meant the long slog back to Surry Hills. The space was small for him, but he found a comfortable position.

  Heading out of town, Mia observed the wide stretches of paddocks and occasional pretty farmhouse. She made sure to look for one in particular she always admired on her trips to and fro, because on the way in she’d noticed work being done on it.

  As she approached, she took her foot from the accelerator to slow and get a better look. The two-storey house featured dark brown brickwork and white-painted window frames, asymmetric gables and a wide front veranda, accessed by a winding path. Leadlight windows framed the large front door. It was engulfed by a slightly wild and beautiful garden and overlooked a long stretch of gentle hills. The photos she could get from a place like this would be spectacular.

  A man in old green overalls was bent over an azalea with an early flush of pink just coming into bud. She recognised him: Dale Emery from the conservation society, the avid birdwatcher interested in the regent honeyeater.

  Remembering the photos she’d taken, she checked her rear-vision mirror and quickly pulled off the road, the tyres crunching in the loose gravel of the roadside.

  Dale stretched his long, thin frame and looked out from under a wide-brimmed straw hat, smiling when he saw her get out of the car.

  ‘Mia! This is a nice surprise. How are you going?’

  ‘Hi, Dale. Good, I’m just on my way into the city. Is this your house?’ She indicated the old building.

  ‘No, no. Just helping out. Bringing the gardens back into shape.’

  ‘I love this place. I’ve been meaning to come and take some photos. The ambience is just gorgeous. It’s being renovated?’

  ‘Sure is. I’m in charge of making the gardens look like the originals.’

  ‘You’re doing a great job. I’ve got something to show you.’

  He dropped his shears and pulled off his gloves before following her to the boot of her car. Mia sat her laptop on it and opened it up to find the photos of the bird.

  ‘Oh wow. You found a regent! And these photos are great. Where was he?’

  ‘River behind the cottage.’

  ‘Gus said he’d spotted them there from time to time. Good to know they’re still around. When I sent you that old photo of one, I didn’t think you’d find any this quickly.’

  ‘Dale,’ a slightly familiar voice called out, ‘is everything all right—oh, it’s you, Mia! Hello.’

  ‘Hi,’ Mia returned. ‘How are you, Cassie?’

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘No, I’m fine thanks.’

  ‘Then what are you doing at my house?’

  ‘This is your place? It’s lovely. I was just admiring it.’

  ‘Oh, well, thank you. It’s been in the family for close to a hundred years.’

  ‘Come and see this, Cassie,’ Dale said. ‘Mia spotted a regent honeyeater and got some beaut shots. You should really have Mia get some pictures of the district for your gallery.’

  ‘Gallery?’ Mia echoed.

  ‘Cassie’s converting her parents’ old place into a gallery. She’s going to have a café and local arts and crafts. Hopefully with the road that national parks are putting in for the tourists, there’ll be some good traffic coming through, right, Cassie?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  A very definite bang from the house had Mia spinning, eyes darting everywhere for signs of danger.

  ‘Just the plasterers,’ Cassie said dismissively.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You haven’t got one of your business cards on you by any chance, Mia?’ Dale said.

  ‘Sure, I’ll just grab one.’ She handed it to Cassie.

  ‘Thanks, Mia,’ Dale said. ‘Perhaps I could get copies of those photos? I’d love to show the group.’

  ‘Of course.’

  With a quick goodbye, Mia slid back in the car and started it, already planning the shots she’d get of the house as she pulled out onto the road.

  Mia’s terrace house was in the heart of Surry Hills. She parked her car in the garage that ran off the narrow rear laneway and let Jasper out before pushing through a door that led into a small kitchen and living area. She put her bag on the counter, went back for some more things and climbed the stairs to the main living level. The whole house was no wider than one medium-sized bedroom but Mia had decorated it carefully to maximise space. The décor was chic and simple: white walls and timber floors with bright splashes of fabric, modern artworks, flowers, delicate decorative touches and some of her favourite photos. She looked carefully around the room that led to the main front entry and housed a lounge and dining area, a large television, several bookshelves and the main bathroom.

  Another set of stairs led to a tiny landing with just enough room for two doors. Mia opened one of the doors. A four-poster bed dominated the space and a fireplace sat in one corner. Beyond that, ornate double doors opened to a little balcony. Mia closed the door and opened the other one—another little fireplace, another bed with cool white linen and comfy cushions. Just enough space to squeeze around the side of it. Double doors sat open on the right, revealing a tiny room full of camera equipment. She turned and headed up the last flight and checked Dex’s bedroom. It was neat, because Dex spent little time in it and wasn’t yet back from his beach excursion with his friends.

  The whole house was exactly as she’d left it. Only then did she relax and went down to the kitc
hen to boil the kettle.

  She turned on some music and got to work on her emails, before playing with images for an ad she was designing. When her stomach began to growl she took Jasper for a walk, then locked him in the house and went down the road to visit the bar owner known by friends and enemies alike as Bear. Dex’s father was Maori, built like a seasoned rugby player, and enjoyed covering himself in tattoos. He certainly wasn’t someone you’d want to meet in a dark alley if you didn’t know how big his heart was. Mia did, and he was one of her closest friends.

  The street was busy with the normal rush of commuters leaving work, eager to get home to friends or family, so it was strange that the road beside her was clear. She turned when a beep sounded from somewhere behind. A car just a little way back was moving slowly, almost keeping pace with her. Immediately on edge, she moved further from the kerb. An old brown car, probably just a distracted driver. She couldn’t see much with the lights reflecting off the windscreen.

  The vehicle behind the crawling car impatiently sat on its bumper, beeped a second time. Whoever was driving the brown car chose that moment to put their foot down, darting past before she could get more than a vague impression of a driver. But she memorised the number plate. Just in case. That was just the kind of thing she did these days, although it made her wonder if her sanity was slipping.

  Bear’s bar was one of the more popular on the main street and even early in the evening it was busy. Three barmen assisted him as he served drinks to thirsty after-work patrons. When he spotted her he slipped out to give her a hug.

  ‘You’re back already. How are you, sweetie?’

  ‘Hi.’ She kissed him noisily, earning a cheer from a couple of young onlookers.

  Bear chuckled and playfully lifted her arm to squeeze her bicep. ‘You trying to outdo me?’

  She deliberately turned a disbelieving gaze on his log-sized arms. ‘Oh, yeah. I’m nearly there. Just need one of those big tribal tats.’

  ‘Don’t you dare, beautiful lady. You want a drink?’