Turtle Reef

by Jennifer Scoullar

  ‘If you’re okay, Zoe, I’d like to take Bridget home.’ Bridget shot her a triumphant look.

  Quinn’s eyes were so solemn, so sad. ‘Is that okay with you?’ Zoe nodded. ‘Will you be all right?’

  ‘Will you?’ she asked. ‘No, I’m serious. Be careful of her, Quinn.’

  He closed the door on Bridget’s venomous response. A minute later Zoe heard the jeep start up. She fell back on her pillow. Quinn loved her. He was taking Bridget home to tell her just that, but it still rankled to have them leave together.

  A thought nagged at her tired mind. One thing in particular was bothering her. She thought she’d been so clever. Not telling Bridget about finding the discarded samples, not confronting her boss with her suspicions. Bridget had no reason to suspect that Zoe was onto her, and they’d been diving together plenty of times. So why had she chosen today to abandon her? Bridget didn’t like her seeing Leo, and she’d no doubt guessed Zoe had feelings for Quinn. But was that motive enough for murder?

  The answers wouldn’t come. Zoe’s eyelids grew heavy; sleep was claiming her. But first . . . she found her phone and scrolled through for the number. ‘Mum? How are you?’

  CHAPTER 28

  Daylight filtered through the bamboo window shade. Zoe lay half-awake, running through the events of the previous day, marvelling at what they meant. Quinn had declared his feelings. It was no dream, he loved her. That sweet thought scrubbed the pain from her aching limbs.

  She leaned over, turned on the radio and listened to the forecast. ‘A low off the coast will progress to a tropical storm by tomorrow.’ The wind moaned on cue and the little shack creaked alarmingly. Thank god the bad weather hadn’t hit yesterday when she was on the reef. Scraps of the previous day’s ordeal tumbled back into her consciousness, fragments of a nightmare.

  Zoe was drifting off to sleep when the phone rang. She sat up on top of the bedspread, still in the clothes she’d been wearing the night before, and found her mobile in the folds of the blanket. ‘Hello?’ It was Quinn. Glancing across at the dressing table mirror, she rubbed sleep from her eyes and smoothed her hair, as if he could see her.

  ‘How are you this morning?’

  ‘Still pretty wrecked,’ she said. ‘And starving. But my headache’s gone.’

  ‘I’m coming over to make you breakfast and, for once in your life, don’t argue with me. See you in ten.’

  Argue? She wanted to weep with joy. Zoe climbed stiffly from the bed and took a shower, letting the steaming water iron smooth her creased body and wash the salt away. There wasn’t much time; he’d be here soon. Stepping from the shower, towel drying her hair, she felt almost human again. Get dressed – shorts and a shirt tied at the waist that she now had. Into the kitchen – boil the kettle, take eggs from the fridge. No bacon? Oh well. Mushrooms would do. Bread? Yes. Stale, but that didn’t matter for toast. Was there time to do the few dirty dishes? Maybe. She’d just finished filling the sink with hot sudsy water when the knock came. She checked herself in the mirror and hurried to answer it. Today she would see him without the guilty idea of Bridget hovering in the back of her mind.

  Quinn stood there, hat in hand, on her doorstep. She stood back to let him in, but as he passed by he dropped his hat and pulled her into his arms. With a shock of pleasure she let herself go loose, melding into his body as if tailor-made to fit. He swept back her hair, a half-smile on his face, and this time he kissed her the way she’d imagined so many times. The way she needed to be kissed.

  When Quinn finally let her go, he said, ‘I ended it with Bridget. She’s moved out, gone back to Leo.’

  ‘How did she take it?’

  ‘Not well. She insisted that what happened yesterday on the reef was an accident. She kept trying to make me believe her.’

  ‘And did you?’

  He picked up his hat and twisted it. ‘Blind Freddy wouldn’t believe her, Zoe. I’ve been in touch with the search and rescue boys and you were right. No emergency call was logged about a missing diver yesterday.’ Zoe began to tremble. Quinn circled her waist with an arm, guided her to the couch and sat down beside her. ‘It’s unbelievable. Bridget abandoning you like that? And pretending to care for Josh all this time, when she was just using him? I can barely bring myself to think about it.’

  ‘I don’t know how responsible she is for what she’s done,’ said Zoe.

  ‘She tries to kill you and you’re making excuses for her?’

  ‘I’m just saying that Bridget must have some major psychiatric problems.’

  Quinn frowned and stood up. ‘You’re far too forgiving for your own good. Now stay right there while I make that breakfast. Can’t have you wasting away on me. You’re getting too skinny.’

  ‘Too skinny?’ She couldn’t help laughing. ‘That’s the first time a man’s said that to me.’

  ‘What about Leo?’ he said. ‘What does he say to you?’

  ‘Leo?’ she said. ‘Leo’s just a friend.’

  ‘Truly?’

  She got up and twined her arms round his neck. ‘Truly. Now kiss me again.’

  An hour later, Zoe’s stomach was full and so was her heart. She sat on the couch, leaning into Quinn. Legs tucked beneath her, nursing a cup of tea and fairly bursting with happiness. In spite of the fact that she was still physically drained. In spite of the fact that she no longer had a job. In spite of the fact that she held no shred of hard evidence about what Bridget was up to at the Reef Centre. It didn’t matter. For the moment, nothing mattered except the weight of Quinn’s arm around her shoulder.

  ‘I can’t bear to think of you out there on the reef alone,’ Quinn said. ‘It keeps haunting me. And tiger sharks? Jesus.’ Zoe felt a shiver run through him, and moved her hand to hold his.

  ‘I wasn’t exactly alone.’ She thought of Kane, wondered where he was now.

  ‘Woman rescued by dolphins,’ said Quinn. ‘What a headline. I owe that big bugger, and his mates.’

  ‘Well, then, do something about it,’ said Zoe. ‘Help make Turtle Reef safe for them again.’

  ‘I intend to. When I leave here – not that I want to go . . .’ He kissed her until they seemed to float together in a warm ocean. Her body weightless, weightless and aching for him. ‘I’m going to talk to old Rob.’ Zoe tried to pull herself back to the shack, to the conversation. Quinn’s body shifted away a fraction, and her breathing slowly returned to normal. ‘I’ve done some asking round,’ he said. ‘When Dieldrin was banned all those years ago, a lot of it was illegally dumped in the bush. Word is some blokes are salvaging the drums and flogging them. It’s cheap and effective, and growers round here are doing it tough. I reckon there’s probably been a black market in the stuff for years.’

  ‘And you think Rob’s involved?’

  ‘Could be. He’s pretty old-school.’

  ‘That’s appalling,’ said Zoe. ‘But at least it’s an explanation for what I saw.’

  He smoothed her hair. ‘Whenever we argue, it turns out that you’re right. You’d think I’d have learned by now.’ The phone rang and he frowned. ‘Don’t answer that.’

  But Zoe was already up and reaching for it. ‘Yes, this is Zoe King.’

  ‘My name is Professor Perry Armstrong. I’m —’

  ‘I know who you are, Professor.’ She was unable to contain her eagerness, even if it seemed rude. ‘You’re the Director of the Marine Science Centre at Queensland University. I’ve been waiting for your email.’

  ‘You don’t have it? Just as well I rang then. Junk mail folder, perhaps? I sent the list of our auspiced research projects through to you the very same day you requested it. If I may be so bold . . . were you curious about a dugong study proposed by a Bridget Macalister? Is that why you wanted the information?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘This is rather tricky to get into, but you won’t find that project on the list. It was never approved.’

  Zoe gripped the phone tighter. ‘Thank you so much, Professor. I’ve been susp
icious for a while.’ This remark was met with silence. ‘Can you tell me why the study wasn’t approved? I’m not sure if you know, but I work for Bridget.’

  ‘I’m aware of that.’ More silence. The professor seemed reluctant to confide, which was odd considering that he’d rung her. Zoe was beginning to think they’d been cut off when he finally spoke. ‘My department conducted investigations into Bridget Macalister in January of this year. I’m afraid she isn’t who she purports to be.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Zoe. ‘I know her father.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t mean her name isn’t Bridget Macalister. I mean her application for a study grant was fraudulent and was rejected on that basis. She also applied for standard government funding, and a grant from the Department of Environment to employ you, Ms King. They referred the claims to us. We recommended they be rejected as well.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Ms Macalister holds none of the qualifications that she claims.’

  Zoe steadied herself by holding onto a chair. ‘What, none at all?’

  ‘None.’

  Zoe sat down. She could feel Quinn behind her, curious. ‘No PhD or postdoctoral fellowship at the Californian Marine Mammal Institute?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No grant from Curtin University to study dugongs in Shark Bay?’

  ‘Bridget Macalister never finished her degree. She failed first-year science at the University of New England and, as far as we can tell, did not return to study. When my secretary said a request for information had come from Ms Macalister’s Reef Centre, it raised alarm bells. You must pardon me for taking the liberty of verifying your own credentials, Ms King. I was delighted to discover that you, at least, are a genuinely talented and promising young researcher. But I feel it’s only fair to warn you – be careful of any dealings you might have with this woman.’

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ said Zoe. ‘Inventing a life like that, a whole history.’

  ‘It’s an extremely troubling development,’ said the Professor. ‘But not as uncommon as you might think. Last year a man worked for three months at a country hospital as a doctor before being found out. Other staff became concerned about his treatment of patients, and raised the alarm. He claimed to be a graduate of Queensland University and had, in fact, attended this institution, but failed to complete his course. A faked degree was enough, however, for him to receive conditional registration to work as an intern.’

  ‘That’s amazing,’ said Zoe. ‘How do people get away with it?’

  ‘With surprising ease,’ he said. ‘In spite of our modern cynicism, on the whole we still trust people to be who they say they are. It leads to a kind of imposter blindness, making us slow to suspect. And as for Bridget Macalister, I believe her father owns the privately run Reef Centre at Kiawa, so her qualifications are probably unimportant. It’s not a case of conventional fraud. But sever your association with the place, Zoe. It will taint your CV.’

  Zoe said goodbye, put down the phone and met Quinn’s gaze. She heaved a big sigh. ‘You’re not going to believe this.’

  Half an hour later she farewelled Quinn with a lingering kiss. He still seemed dazed by the Professor’s news. ‘I’ll be back after my talk with Rob, and then we’ll go to see Leo. He needs to know about Bridget; see about getting her some help.’

  Zoe nodded, her mind awhirl. How hard must this be for Quinn? Coming to grips with Bridget’s lie of a life, a lie he’d lived along with her for years. She clasped her hands behind her neck and stretched until her spine ached.

  A wave of exhaustion washed over her. Maybe she should go back to bed? Though that made her think about Quinn . . . For a moment Zoe imagined him naked between her sheets, then shook the image away. She fetched her laptop, climbed under the covers and opened her emails.

  It still puzzled her that Bridget had chosen yesterday to leave her on the reef. She browsed her inbox again, and her junk mail, searching for the missing message from Queensland University. She went through her conversation with Professor Perry and with his secretary. Then it struck her. ‘I’d rather not send that information to a private email address,’ the secretary had said. ‘However if you have one associated with the Reef Centre . . .’ Of course. Bridget had access to the Reef Centre network. She could have seen the request for a list of approved research projects and realised Zoe was on to her. She could have gone into Zoe’s inbox and deleted the Professor’s reply. Abandoning her at sea had been Bridget’s final, desperate attempt to prevent her world from tumbling down.

  The familiar music of Swan Lake drifted in through the billowing curtains. With a pang Zoe pulled a chair up to the open window to watch. Down below the dolphins were doing their show, or what was left of it. How beautiful they were, how splendid. Bridget looked beautiful too, standing tall in her trademark gold bikini, silhouetted against the dark water.

  Something seemed different about her. Only a dozen people sat in the audience under the grey sky, but Bridget performed as if there were a thousand – strutting the lagoon’s edge; gesturing with theatrical flourishes worthy of the greatest stage star. Even the dolphins seemed impressed, flipping and spinning with a semblance of their old grace. Zoe almost admired her, toughing it out until the bitter end, knowing that any minute the charade would crumble around her ears.

  Who was that interrupting the show? Was that Josh? Yes, pulling at Bridget’s arm and arguing with her, although Zoe couldn’t hear what they were saying. How extraordinary. She’d never seen Josh as much as disagree with Bridget, let alone quarrel with her in public.

  Curiosity got the better of her. Zoe slipped out the side door and down the stone stairs, grimacing at each step, leg muscles still sore. A tugging gust of wind caused her a flurry of fear. Zoe’s dislike of heights wasn’t entirely a thing of the past, and she held tight to the handrail. By the time she reached the gate at the bottom, Bridget had shaken Josh off, and was trying to go on with the show. Josh stood beside the portable grandstand, watching.

  Zoe approached him. ‘Josh.’ He turned to face her, fists clenched by his side, eyes red and swollen from crying. She took his hand. ‘Come with me and tell me what’s wrong.’ He followed her out the gate and up the steps. When they reached the little balcony Zoe looked down to find Bridget staring up at her. She hurried Josh inside. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I heard Bridget on the phone this morning. She’s going to sell Mirrhi.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I heard her.’

  Zoe wrapped her arms around his stiff shoulders and hugged him tight. ‘We won’t let her,’ she said. ‘I don’t think Bridget will be in charge of the Reef Centre for very much longer. Quinn and I are going to talk to Leo about that today.’

  ‘No.’ He pulled away and paced restlessly about the room. ‘Bridget always gets her own way. Always. You won’t be able to stop her.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Zoe firmly. ‘I will.’ He stopped abruptly and shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘What exactly did you hear?’ she asked. ‘Maybe you misunderstood.’

  Josh shook his head violently. ‘No, I didn’t. Bridget said the people could come and get Mirrhi next week.’

  Zoe thought back to when Bridget had shown Mirrhi to the mysterious visitors. What if those men were from another oceanarium? Australia didn’t import dolphins; didn’t profit from the tragedy of Japan’s Taiji cove, where over a thousand were slaughtered each year for meat, and the rest sold into captivity. Since 1994, Australian marine parks couldn’t even capture local dolphins. They relied on captive-bred animals, or rescues deemed unsuitable for release by an independent body. Mirrhi was a pregnant, trained young female with wild-caught genes. A dolphin like her would be much sought after; hard to come by. And Bridget was trying to manage without any of the standard funding that a rehabilitation facility like the Reef Centre would normally attract.

  ‘Josh, I’m taking you back to Swallowdale.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes.’ She grabbed her car keys. ‘I p
romise I won’t let anything happen to Mirrhi. You have to believe me.’ Josh gave her a mutinous glare. ‘No arguments, now. Come on. And if you see Quinn when you get home, tell him I’ve gone to see George Fairthorn, the vet. Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Josh in a surly voice. He didn’t trust her; that much was obvious. Well, it couldn’t be helped. He’d see soon enough. Nothing bad was going to happen to Mirrhi or the other dolphins. Not on her watch.

  CHAPTER 29

  George came into the waiting room and took off his gloves and mask. ‘I thought you didn’t do surgery on a Saturday,’ said Zoe.

  ‘Tell that to the little French Bulldog that just had a caesarean.’ A plump middle-aged woman followed him out, glowing with pride and cradling two tiny, wriggling black puppies.

  ‘How sweet,’ said Zoe. ‘I can see how busy you are, George, but could you spare me a few minutes? It’s important.’

  ‘I’m all yours’ – he checked his watch – ‘until half past eleven. Come into the office.’ He closed the door after them. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I’ve got some questions about the dolphins at the centre.’

  George washed his hands in a corner sink. ‘Fire away.’

  ‘Who deemed them unfit for release? Was that you?’

  ‘Me? No. I’ve told Bridget more than once that half those animals could be released. She doesn’t listen. They’re crowd-pullers, aren’t they? I think she relies on them to pay the bills.’

  ‘Did Parks and Wildlife examine them?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘You mean nobody has looked into the possibility of their release?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  ‘Do you remember Kane?’ He nodded. ‘Bridget told me a stingray barb permanently damaged his jaw, so he couldn’t catch his own fish. That can’t be right, because I saw him at Bora Reef yesterday, looking terrific. His dorsal fin was almost standing upright.’