Charlotte Pass

by Lee Christine

  ‘He takes after me.’ His father appeared in the kitchen doorway with Bentley. When the beagle saw Ryder, he began straining at the leash, his tail rotating in circles.

  ‘How was your walk?’ his mother asked, as Ryder bent down to pat the dog.

  ‘It took a while, between saying hello to a dozen other dogs, and the constant sniffing.’ His father grinned at Ryder. ‘Not much chance of me working up a sweat, that’s for sure.’

  ‘I’ll take you on in squash, mate,’ Ryder said. ‘That’ll get your heart rate up.’

  ‘He’s a beagle, Bill,’ his mother pointed out, ignoring Ryder’s challenge. ‘What do you expect?’

  Ryder left them to it and went to wash his hands in the bathroom, the familiar warmth of his family a tonic for his mind and body. ‘I’ll be back before lunch,’ he told them as he picked up his car keys. ‘Lewicki knows the Delaneys better than I do, so he’ll go to the wake at the bowling club. I’m coming home.’

  He’d done everything in his power to bring closure to the Delaney family. Now, he needed to be here, with his family.

  Where he belonged.

  Normally, Ryder found funerals excruciating, as every single one transported him back to the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life—carry his own child’s coffin. And he’d been dreading this one, not because he’d been the investigating detective, but because the Delaneys had endured a similar kind of hell to his.

  But, as he stepped up to the table, a different emotion slammed through him. Excitement, and disbelief. Vanessa Bell was written in stylish handwriting in the attendance book, three lines above where his pen was poised ready to add his signature. It couldn’t be, could it? Vanessa was thousands of miles away working in Utah. And yet he knew it to be true. He recognised her signature from the statement he’d had her sign at the hospital.

  He scrawled his name with an unsteady hand then passed the pen to Lew. Organ music drifted from the direction of the altar, and a sombre-looking man in a black suit handed him a booklet. Ryder entered the church, which was close to full, his eyes searching for Vanessa. And then another attendant was beckoning them forward from halfway down the aisle. He ushered them into one of the pews, the people already seated shifting closer together to make room.

  Ryder settled himself on the hard, wooden seat and looked to the front of the church. Celia’s polished mahogany coffin stood in front of the altar, draped in pink flowers. In the front row, Eunice Delaney was so small, Ryder could just make out her thinning silver hair. Arnold, it seemed, had been wheeled into the church in a special chair, the two layabout children Eunice had talked of so scathingly sitting either side of him.

  ‘These things were built to be uncomfortable,’ muttered Lew, looking at Ryder and shifting in his seat. ‘It’s to make sure you don’t nod off.’

  Ryder nodded absently, a memory of the religious artefacts displayed in the Delaney household coming to mind. They could be in for a long service.

  Nigel Miller passed their pew. Ryder recognised his thin build and manscaped facial hair. He nudged Lew and nodded at the musician who was joining the family in the front row. ‘So, he was innocent after all,’ he said.

  Lew snorted. ‘Yeah … but he’s still a shit bloke.’

  Right then the organ music stopped, and someone up the front requested they all stand for the opening hymn. It was then that Ryder found Vanessa. She was in his direct line of sight only four rows in front. Dressed in a stylish suit in muted tones, her lion’s mane of hair was wound into a loose bun and held in place with a tortoiseshell clip.

  Ryder’s heart swelled, along with the voices raised in song all around him, and he pledged that this time he would not let her go without telling her how he felt.

  The service seemed to take forever. There were traditional readings, followed by the heartbreaking eulogies read aloud by Arnold’s two sons on behalf of him and Eunice. For decades, they said, Celia’s parents feared this day would never come. And yet here they were, with their family, their friends and the community of Stockton who knew their tragic story. Even the police who’d carried out the investigations were present, they said, looking in Ryder and Lewicki’s direction, as well as the media who’d reported it over the years. But, most importantly, their daughter’s precious body was finally back in their care, and able to be properly laid to rest.

  Wishing he was sitting beside Vanessa, who was wiping her eyes, Ryder said a personal prayer for Celia, and then, as he always did, spoke silently to Scarlett. Beside him, Lewicki unfolded a cotton handkerchief, and then the aroma of incense filled the church.

  The remainder of the service passed in a blur. The final hymn, the throng of people exiting the church, the hearse pulling away from the kerb. Earlier, one of the attendants had made it clear that Arnold and Eunice were too frail to stand outside the church, but that they were looking forward to seeing everybody at the bowling club.

  Ryder told Lew he would catch up with him, and went in search of Vanessa. He came to a halt when he found her at the side of the church, standing in the shade of a large liquid amber. He rested his hands on his hips, looked away for a few moments while he gathered himself, then took a deep breath and walked slowly towards her.

  She smiled at him. The first genuine smile he’d seen from her since their last night together at Charlotte Pass. ‘Hello, Pierce.’

  ‘Hello,’ he managed to say. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw you. I thought you were still in Utah.’

  ‘I slipped into the country about a week ago. I saw you going into court on the TV. How’s everything going with the investigation?’

  ‘Murder trials are always a long process, but we have a strong case.’

  She smiled. ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Obviously I can’t tell you specifics because you’re a witness, but I can tell you that it was Bruno who orchestrated the Winterfest celebrations. He convinced the Gordons that it would good for business to bring the former champion back. He even suggested the run under the old chairlift would make a good slope for tubing. His aim was to expose Smythe without implicating himself, but that was never going to happen. He was always going to slip up.’

  She shook her head slowly. ‘Who would have thought?’

  ‘I know. It’s incredible.’ Ryder took a step closer and smiled at her. ‘What’s more incredible is that you’re here. I’m so surprised. Surprised and delighted,’ he added quickly.

  ‘Really?’ Her eyes searched his face, her fingers sliding the silver snowflake she wore around her neck, back and forth on its chain.

  ‘Yes, really. There’s so much I want to say to you. So much I should have said before you left. I’m sorry, Vanessa.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said quickly, her eyes soft. ‘I wasn’t ready to hear it then.’

  Hope flared in Ryder’s heart. He had to know one way or another if he still had a chance. ‘So, I haven’t totally blown it, then?’

  ‘No. You were right to give me time. I had a lot to come to terms with. This is hard for me to say, but I started seeing someone over in America.’

  The ground seemed to disappear beneath Ryder’s feet, disappointment robbing him of breath like a punch in the guts. Of all the things he’d expected her to say, telling him she had a boyfriend was bottom of the list. He swallowed, steeling himself for what was to come.

  ‘I thought I may as well.’ A pink colour stained her cheeks and she waved an airy hand. ‘You know how big they are on therapy over there? I thought, why not take advantage of it?’

  Sudden relief drained Ryder of energy. All he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and never let her go. He knew it now. She was the one. He couldn’t believe he’d been so blind.

  ‘I didn’t know it at the time,’ she was saying, ‘but I was suffering survivor’s guilt over Libby’s death, and I was having trouble coming to terms with the fact that I considered leaving Smythe to die before I actually helped him.’

  ‘But when it came down to it, you didn�
�t cross that line.’

  ‘No. That’s exactly what the therapist said.’

  ‘I’m glad you saw someone. It was the smart thing to do.’ He stepped closer and lowered his voice, unable to hold the words inside him any longer. ‘Look, Vanessa, I know I haven’t made this clear, but I’ve totally fallen for you, fallen in love, probably for the first time ever.’ He held up a hand as she went to speak. ‘I know this isn’t the place, but I need some indication of how you feel, because I’m going nuts here.’

  She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

  Ryder didn’t know whether that was a good sign or not, so he pressed on. ‘Do you remember what you said to me at Charlotte Pass after I told you about Scarlett? You told me that if I ever wanted to make room for someone in my life, not to forget you. Well, here I am, telling you I want to make room.’

  She nodded. ‘Of course I remember what I said. Why do you think I’m here?’

  Before he had a chance to answer, she went on. ‘I’m here because it was important for me to farewell Celia properly. I went to Libby’s funeral before I left, but she … Celia … she had such an impact on my life.’ Her voice sank to a whisper. ‘If it wasn’t for her death, you would never have come to Charlotte Pass. I might never have met you.’

  Only then did Ryder smile. He stepped closer and took her in his arms, his body humming with the strength of his love for her. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet perfume of her hair. ‘Just so you know,’ he murmured, ‘there’s not a chance in this world I’m ever going to forget you.’

  ‘How are we going to do this?’ she asked.

  ‘Let’s not worry about that now.’

  ‘Well, Mum and Dad don’t need me on the farm for a couple of years,’ she said, her cheek resting against the lapel of his suit. ‘And I’m ready for a warmer climate. I can find a job and thaw out in the big smoke for a while.’

  Ryder tightened his arms around her. ‘Thank you,’ he said, feeling her relax against him as the tension left her body. ‘We can work the rest out when the time comes. Who knows, I might go back in uniform, seeing you like them so much, and apply for a transfer out west.’

  ‘You’d do that for me?’ she raised her head and looked him in his eyes.

  ‘I’m not making empty promises, Vanessa. I love you.’

  ‘I love you, too,’ she whispered, reaching up and caressing his cheek.

  In the dappled sunlight shining through the leaves of the liquid amber, Ryder drew her to him again and closed his eyes. He saw Celia in a shift dress and long white gloves, then Libby surrounded by noisy children.

  Then finally, like he always did, he saw Scarlett.

  She was standing there, looking at them both, and smiling.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to the ‘Dream Team’ who have been with me throughout the writing of this book. Vanessa Hardy, for lending me your archaeological notes on bones, Nicole Deanne Webb and Kristine Thomas for your invaluable feedback and scintillating company. And to Bernadette Foley, for running the Wednesday workshops, and for having so much faith in my story she agreed to act as my agent.

  To my friend, thank you for your time and patience in answering my numerous questions. Your knowledge in helping me understand police procedure and the chain of command was invaluable.

  Many thanks go to Annette Barlow and the amazing editors at Allen & Unwin for their hard work and professionalism in making this book the very best it can be.

  To the staff at the Thredbo Museum, for their help and assistance during my research visit. I recall my delight in finding one of the cabs from the ill-fated chairlift sitting in the corner.

  Endless thanks to my husband, who makes me copious cups of tea and patiently listens while I read out paragraphs of text and ask if it sounds right. To my daughter, a former ski instructor whose knowledge of skiing technique was vital for the character of Vanessa. And to my son, who through his own writing, is a constant source of inspiration to me.

  And lastly, to Charlotte Pass, a unique and magical village of historical significance located high in the New South Wales Snowy Mountains. The unsurpassed beauty and magnetic pull of this tiny village provided me with constant inspiration for the creation of this novel.