by Jane Harper
‘Are we nearly there?’
Jill heard Lauren’s voice behind her. The woman’s plaster had peeled loose again and a single pink trail of rain and blood had dripped down her temple and cheek, settling in the corner of her mouth.
‘Nearly at the top. I think.’
‘Do we have any water?’
Jill took out her own bottle and passed it to Lauren, who took a deep swig as they walked. Lauren’s tongue flicked to the corner of her mouth, and she grimaced as it found the blood. She cupped her hand and poured water into her palm, some escaping onto the ground, and rinsed her cheek.
‘Maybe we should –’ Jill started to say as Lauren went to repeat the process, but bit her words short.
‘Maybe what?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She had been going to say maybe they should preserve their fresh water. But there was no need. There were more supplies at the campsite. And Jill was not yet ready to admit that they might be spending the night anywhere else.
The path rose steadily steeper and Jill could hear the breathing around her grow heavy. The sloping land to their right fell away at a sharper angle until it was a hill, and then a cliff side. Jill kept her eyes straight ahead, pushing up one step after another. She had lost track of how high they’d climbed when, almost without warning, the path levelled out.
The gum trees gave way and they came face to face with a magnificent vista of rolling hills and valleys, stretching out beneath them right to the horizon. Shadows from shifting clouds created an ocean of green that rippled like waves. They had reached the top and it was breathtaking.
Jill dropped her pack on the ground. The five women stood side by side, hands on hips, legs aching, catching their breath as they surveyed.
‘This is incredible.’
Almost on cue, the clouds parted, revealing the sun hanging low in the distance. It touched the very tips of the uppermost trees, engulfing them in a blazing watery glow. Jill blinked as the welcome golden light blinded her, and she could almost imagine she could feel the heat on her face. For the first time that day, she felt a weight lift from her chest.
Alice had taken her phone from her pocket and was looking at the screen. She was frowning, but that was all right, Jill told herself. Even if they had no signal, it would be okay. They would get to the second campsite, they would get dry, they would work something out with the shelter. They would get some sleep, and everything would look better in the morning.
Jill heard a dry cough behind her.
‘Sorry,’ Beth said. ‘But which direction are we walking in again?’
‘West.’ Jill looked over.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Towards the campsite.’ Jill turned to Alice. ‘That’s right, isn’t it? We’re going west?’
‘Yep. West.’
‘So we’ve been walking west the whole time?’ Beth said. ‘Since we left the river?’
‘Christ. Yes. I already said.’ Alice didn’t glance up from her phone.
‘Then –’ A pause. ‘Sorry. It’s just – if this way is west, then why is the sun setting in the south?’
Every face turned, just in time to see the sun drop another notch below the trees.
That was the other thing about Alice, Jill thought. Sometimes she could make you feel so bloody betrayed.
Chapter 12
The light was starting to go by the time Falk and Carmen left Jill Bailey in the lounge, alone with her thoughts. They headed back along the path to the cabins with the early calls of the evening chorus echoing around them.
‘It gets dark so early up here.’ Carmen checked her watch, the wind catching her hair. ‘I suppose the trees block the light.’
They could see vans pulling up outside the lodge and weary rescue workers climbing out. Their breath formed clouds in the air. Still no good news, judging by their faces. The skies were quiet now; the chopper must have landed. Hope was fading with the day.
Falk and Carmen reached their cabin doors and stopped.
‘I’m going to take a shower. Warm up a bit.’ Carmen stretched and Falk heard her joints crack beneath the layers. It had been a long couple of days. ‘Meet for dinner in an hour?’
With a wave she disappeared inside. Falk unlocked his own door and turned on the light.
Through the wall, he heard the sound of running water starting up.
He sat on the bed and ran over the conversation with Jill Bailey. She had an alertness about her that her brother didn’t. It made Falk feel uneasy.
He rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a paper file containing his notes on Alice Russell. He thumbed through them, only half-reading. He already knew the contents well. At first, he wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but as he turned the pages, it slowly became clear. He was looking for something that would ease the guilt, he realised. Some hint of reassurance that Alice Russell’s disappearance was nothing to do with him. That he and Carmen hadn’t trapped her in an impossible position that had forced her into making a mistake. That they hadn’t made a mistake themselves. That they hadn’t put Alice in danger. Hurt her.
Falk sighed, and sat back on the bed. When he got to the end of Alice’s file, he went back to the start and pulled out her bank statements. She’d shared access to them voluntarily, if reluctantly, and like everything else, he’d been through them before. But he found something comforting in the way the orderly columns of figures and dates ran down page after page, documenting the everyday transactions that kept Alice Amelia Russell’s world ticking over.
Falk ran his eyes down the numbers. The statements were monthly, with the first entry dated about twelve months earlier. The most recent was on Thursday, the day Alice and the others had set off for the retreat. She had spent four dollars at a motorway convenience store. It was the last time her bank card had been used.
He examined the incomings and outgoings, trying to flesh out his impression of the woman. He noted that four times a year, like clockwork, she spent several thousand dollars at the David Jones department store two weeks before the change of each season. That she paid her cleaner an amount that, depending on the hours worked, seemed suspiciously below the minimum wage.
Falk always found it interesting what people deemed valuable. He had breathed out in surprise the first time he had seen the five-figure annual sum that Alice parted with to enable her daughter to follow in her footsteps at Endeavour Ladies’ College. And it seemed the cost of a top-shelf education didn’t end with fees alone, he noticed now, with Alice making a significant one-off donation to the school six months earlier.
When the numbers started to blur a little, Falk rubbed his eyes and closed the file. He went to the window and looked out into the bushland, flexing his damaged hand. The start of the Mirror Falls trail was still visible in the gathering gloom. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his dad’s maps stacked on the bedside table.
He shuffled through the pile until he found the one for the Giralang Ranges, and opened it to the Mirror Falls trailhead. Falk wasn’t entirely surprised to find the start of the route circled – he knew his dad had come up to the region, and this was one of the most popular trails. But as he looked at the page he still felt a jolt. When had his dad made that particular pencil mark? At their home, sitting at the kitchen table? Or perhaps standing at the trailhead, two hundred metres and ten years from where Falk stood now?
Without thinking about it, Falk pulled on his jacket and shoved the map in his pocket. He wavered, then grabbed his torch as well. Through the wall, he could still hear running water. Good. He wanted to do this without explanation. He pulled the cabin door shut and followed the path across the carpark to the trailhead. Behind him, the lodge glowed.
He stopped at the entrance to the Mirror Falls trail, taking in the surroundings. If Erik Falk had walked this path, he would have once stood on this very spot. Falk tried t
o imagine what his dad would have seen. The trees around him were decades old. It was possible, he thought, that their two viewpoints were close to identical.
He stepped in. At first all he could hear was his breathing, but slowly the evening sounds became more distinct. The thick line of trees gave him the vaguely claustrophobic sense of being under siege. His hand ached in his pocket, but he ignored it. It was psychosomatic, he knew. There had been rainfall, he told himself as he walked, there would be no fire here. He repeated it under his breath until he felt a little better.
Falk wondered how many times his dad had walked along this path. A couple at least, judging by the markings on the map. Far away from the city he hated. And alone, because his son refused to come with him. Although Falk suspected, honestly, that he’d probably enjoyed the solitude. That was one way, at least, in which they’d always been alike.
There was movement somewhere deep in the bushes and Falk jumped, laughing a little at the spike in his heart rate. Had his dad felt unnerved at all by the Kovac history? It was easy to feel isolated out here. And the notoriety would have been much fresher in collective memory then than it was now. Falk doubted it had troubled Erik much. His dad had always been a pretty practical bloke. And he was always more comfortable around trees and trails and outdoor spaces than he ever was around other people.
Falk felt a few spots of rain hit his face and pulled up his jacket hood. Somewhere in the distance, he could make out a low rumble, but wasn’t sure if it was thunder or the falls. He should go back. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing out here, alone in the dark. It was his second time on this trail but he recognised nothing. The landscape seemed to shift and alter when unobserved. He could be anywhere. He turned and started back in the direction of the lodge.
He’d taken only two steps when he stopped dead. He listened hard. Nothing; only the wind and the scurry of invisible paws. The path was empty in both directions. How far away was he from the nearest person? He hadn’t walked a long way, he knew, but he felt like he could be the only one for miles. He stood completely still, looking and listening. Then he heard it again.
Footsteps. The tread was light but made the hairs on his neck stand up. He swivelled, trying to work out which direction it was coming from. He glimpsed the light through the trees a moment before it came around a bend, flashing straight into his eyes. He heard a gasp and the sound of something clattering to the ground. Blinded, Falk groped in his pocket for his torch, his fingers cold and clumsy as he felt for the switch. He turned it on, the beam casting a distorted shadow. The bushland hung on either side like a thick black curtain, and in the middle of the path, a slight figure shielded her eyes.
Falk squinted as his vision adjusted. ‘Police.’ He held out his ID. ‘Are you all right? I didn’t mean to scare you.’
The woman was half-turned away, but he recognised her from her photograph. Lauren. She was trembling as she bent to pick up her torch and when Falk stepped closer, he could see a nasty cut on her forehead. It had tentatively knitted together, but the area was swollen, the stretched skin shining in the glare of the torchlight.
‘You’re with the police?’ Lauren peered at the ID, her voice wary.
‘Yeah. Helping with the Alice Russell search. You’re Lauren Shaw, aren’t you? You were in the BaileyTennants group?’
‘Yes. Sorry, I thought –’ She took a deep breath. ‘For a second there – it’s stupid – when I saw someone alone on the path I thought it might be Alice.’
Falk, for a split second, had thought exactly the same thing. ‘I’m sorry I scared you. Are you okay?’
‘Yes –’ She was still breathing heavily, her thin shoulders rising and falling underneath her jacket. ‘I just got a shock.’
‘What are you doing out here in the dark?’ Falk said. Although she was perfectly entitled to ask him the same thing, Lauren shook her head. She must have been out there for a while. He could feel the chill coming off her clothes.
‘Nothing sensible. I’ve been going out to the falls during the day. I meant to come back earlier, but it gets dark so quickly.’
Falk remembered the shadowy figure he’d seen leaving the trail. ‘Were you out there last night as well?’
She nodded. ‘I know it’s probably ridiculous, but I thought Alice might find her way back to the start of the trail. We passed the waterfall on the first day and it’s a really distinctive landmark. I was driving myself crazy sitting around the lodge, so I’ve been sitting out there instead.’
‘Right.’ Falk clocked her purple hat for the first time. ‘We saw you out there yesterday afternoon.’
‘Probably.’
There was a rumble of thunder and they both looked up.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’re nearly at the lodge. I’ll walk back with you.’
They moved slowly, their torch beams throwing cones of light on the uneven ground.
‘How long have you been with BaileyTennants?’ Falk said.
‘Nearly two years. I’m strategic head of forward planning.’
‘What does that involve?’
A heavy sigh. ‘It involves identifying the future strategic needs of our firm and putting together action plans –’ She stopped. ‘Sorry. It all seems so pointless, after what’s happened to Alice.’
‘It sounds like you all had a very difficult few days.’
Lauren didn’t answer straight away. ‘We did. It wasn’t any one thing that went wrong, it was a hundred little things. It all kept adding up until it was too late. I just hope Alice is okay.’
‘Did you two work together a lot?’ Falk asked.
‘Not so much directly. But I’ve known her on and off for years. We were at secondary school together and then we ended up working in the same industry, so our paths crossed a bit. And our girls are the same age. They both go to our old school now. When Alice found out I’d left my old firm she put in a good word for me at BaileyTennants, and I’ve been there ever since.’
‘We heard it was you who managed to lead the group to a road,’ Falk said. ‘Get the others back.’
‘That’s probably overstating it. I’d done a bit of navigating at school, but we just walked in a straight line and hoped for the best.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, it had been Alice’s idea to take that path. When we realised she’d gone, I thought we’d only be a couple of hours behind her. I couldn’t believe it when she wasn’t at the end.’
They rounded a corner and the start of the trailhead came into sight. They were back. Lauren shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as they emerged. The air seemed heavy with the threat of a storm and the lodge up ahead looked warm and inviting.
‘Shall we talk inside?’ he said, but Lauren hesitated.
‘Can we stay out here? Do you mind? Nothing against Jill, but I don’t have the energy for her tonight.’
‘Okay.’ Falk could feel the cold coming through his boots and wriggled his toes inside his socks. ‘Tell me about this school camp you and Alice went on.’
‘McAllaster? It was out in the back end of nowhere. We did academic subjects, but the main focus was on the outdoor activities. Hiking, camping, problem-solving activities, that sort of thing. No TV, no phone calls, the only contact with home during term time was through handwritten letters. They still do it, my daughter went two years ago. Alice’s daughter too. A lot of private schools run them.’ Lauren paused. ‘And it’s not easy.’
Even in Falk’s childless world, he had heard tell of the dreaded full-year camp. The odd story over the years from colleagues who had graduated from one of the more prestigious establishments. The tale was usually told in the hushed tone of someone who has survived a bear attack or walked away from a fatal plane crash. Disbelief mixed with pride. I got through it.
‘It sounds like it helped you a bit at least,’ Falk said.
‘A bit, perhaps. But I keep thinking that havi
ng rusty skills might be worse than having no skills. If we hadn’t gone on that camp, maybe Alice wouldn’t have got the stupid idea that she could walk out alone.’
‘You didn’t think she was equipped to do that?’
‘I didn’t think any of us were. I wanted to stay put and wait for help.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know. Or maybe we should have gone with her and at least stayed together as a group. I knew she might try to go alone once she’d been outvoted. She always –’
She stopped. Falk waited.
‘Alice always overestimated her skills. At camp she was a group leader a lot of the time, but she wasn’t chosen because she was particularly outstanding. I mean, she was good. But she wasn’t as good as she thought.’
‘Popularity contest?’ Falk said.
‘Exactly. She was voted team leader because she was popular. Everyone wanted to be her friend, wanted to be in her group. I can’t blame her for buying into the hype. If everyone around you is constantly telling you you’re fantastic, it’s easy to believe it.’
Lauren glanced over her shoulder at the trees.
‘I suppose in one way she did us a big favour, though. If we’d stayed at the cabin and waited for help, we’d still be out there waiting. Apparently they still can’t find it.’
‘No. That’s true.’
Lauren looked at him.
‘They’re searching very hard, though, from what I can tell,’ she said. ‘That cabin is the only thing some of the officers want to talk about.’
‘I suppose because that was the last place Alice was seen,’ Falk said. He remembered what King had said. We haven’t told the women about Sam Kovac. Falk wondered if that was the best move under the circumstances.
‘Maybe.’ Lauren was still watching him closely. ‘It feels like more than that, though. The place had been empty for a while, but not forever. I told the other police. At least someone knew about it because someone had been out there.’