by Jane Harper
Falk thought of Jill Bailey, frowning. It’s a family matter.
‘Did you tell your sister what had happened?’
‘On the retreat?’ Bailey shook his head. ‘Not all of it. I told her I was late because we’d discovered Joel with some inappropriate photos. I didn’t mention Margot was involved. I thought that was a decision for Alice to make as her mother.’ He sighed. ‘I had to tell Jill after the retreat though, when Alice didn’t make it out.’
‘How did she react?’
‘She was angry. She said I should have told her the whole story on that first night at the campsite. Which maybe I should have.’
Carmen sat back in her chair. ‘So how did the images manage to get out? Margot said they’d been online since yesterday.’
‘I honestly don’t know. I drove down yesterday as soon as I heard about it from Michelle. She’d heard it from another mum.’ He shook his head. ‘For what it’s worth, I really don’t think Joel would spread them about. I spoke to him for a long time about respect and privacy and he really did seem to take it in.’
Daniel Bailey, Falk thought, sounded a lot like his wife at that moment.
‘Joel had had a couple of friends with him when Michelle discovered the files,’ Bailey went on. ‘I think in the chaos, it’s most likely one of them copied the images.’ He turned his own mobile over in his hands. ‘I just wish Joel would answer his bloody phone, so we could get this straightened out.’
For a moment, the only sound was the crackle from the fireplace.
‘Why didn’t you mention this when we spoke before?’ Falk said.
‘I was trying to respect the kids’ privacy. Not make things worse for them.’
Falk looked at him, and for the first time, Bailey couldn’t meet his eye. There was something else. Falk thought about Margot standing, childlike and alone, in her mother’s kitchen.
‘How old is Margot in those pictures?’
Bailey blinked and Falk knew he was right.
‘If someone looks into the dates those were taken, are they going to find she was only fifteen at the time?’
Bailey shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
Falk was certain that he did. ‘How old is your son now?’
A long silence. ‘He’s eighteen, but only just. He was only seventeen when they were seeing each other, though.’
‘But now he’s not.’ Carmen leaned in. ‘Now, he’s legally an adult who has allegedly distributed sexual images of a girl under the age of consent. I hope you’ve got a good lawyer.’
Bailey sat on his expensive couch next to his crackling fire and raised his eyes to look at his smiling son in the glossy family portrait. He nodded, but he didn’t look happy.
‘We do.’
Day 3: Saturday Night
Alice had been gone for a while before anyone noticed.
Bree wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring at the flames when she realised there were only four of them sitting there. She scanned the clearing. There was little to see. The front of the cabin glowed orange and black, its angles creating sharp shadows in the light of the fire. All around, everything else was in perfect darkness.
‘Where’s Alice?’
Lauren looked up. ‘I think she went to the toilet.’
Across the campfire, Jill frowned. ‘That was quite a bit ago, wasn’t it?’
‘Was it? I don’t know.’
Bree didn’t know either. Time seemed to flow differently out there. She watched the flames for a few more minutes, or possibly many more minutes, until Jill shifted.
‘Actually, where is she? She hasn’t gone so far that she can’t see her way back to the fire, has she?’ Jill sat up straighter and called out, ‘Alice!’
They listened. Bree heard a rustle and a crack from somewhere far behind her. Possum, she told herself. Other than that, all was still.
‘Maybe she didn’t hear,’ Jill said. Then, very lightly: ‘Her bag’s still here, isn’t it?’
Bree got up to check. Inside the cabin, she could just make out the shapes of five backpacks. She couldn’t tell which one was Alice’s, so she counted them again, to make sure. Five. All accounted for. As she turned to leave, a movement through the side window caught her eye and she stepped up to the hole where glass should have been. A figure was moving by the tree line. Alice.
What was she doing? It was hard to tell. Then Bree saw the telltale pinprick of light. She sighed and went back out to the fire.
‘Alice is over there, around the side.’ Bree pointed. ‘She’s checking the phone.’
‘But her bag’s still inside?’ Jill said.
‘Yeah.’
‘Can you get her?’ Jill squinted into the dark. ‘Please. I don’t want anyone to get lost in the dark.’
Bree looked around as a rustling came from somewhere in the trees. It really was just a possum, she told herself. ‘Okay.’
It was darker out of view of the fire and Bree stumbled on the uneven ground, the image of the flames dancing in front of her eyes whether they were open or shut. She took a breath, and made herself stop and wait. Gradually, the distinctions started to become clear. She could see the moving figure at the tree line.
‘Alice!’
Alice jumped and turned at the sound of her name. The phone glowed in her hand.
‘Hey,’ Bree said. ‘Didn’t you hear us calling?’
‘No. Sorry. When?’
Alice had a strange expression on her face and, as Bree got closer, she thought the woman might have tears in her eyes.
‘Just before. Are you okay?’
‘Yes. I thought – I thought for a second I had a signal.’
‘Oh my God, really?’ Bree almost snatched for the phone. She stopped herself in time. ‘Did you manage to call someone?’
‘No. It disappeared straight away. I haven’t been able to find it again.’ Alice looked down. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I imagined it.’
‘Can I see?’ Bree reached out, but Alice stayed just far enough away.
‘There’s nothing there. I think maybe I saw what I wanted to see.’
On the screen, Bree caught a glimpse of a name. Margot. Last number dialled. She hesitated. It was Alice’s phone, but they were all adrift in the same miserable boat. That changed the rules. Bree took a breath.
‘We should only use the phone to call triple zero.’
‘I know.’
‘I mean, I realise it’s hard. Everyone’s missing home and thinking about their families, I totally understand that but –’
‘Bree. I know. I couldn’t get through.’
‘But even trying to call uses up the battery and we don’t know how long –’
‘Jesus, I know all that!’ Definitely a glint of tears. ‘I just wanted to talk to her. That’s all.’
‘Okay.’ Bree put a hand out and rubbed Alice’s back. It felt a little awkward, and she realised they had never shared anything more than a handshake before.
‘I know she’s growing up.’ Alice wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘But she’s still my baby. You wouldn’t understand.’
No, thought Bree, picturing the broken bird’s egg, she supposed she wouldn’t. Her hand stilled on Alice’s back.
‘Don’t tell the others.’ Alice was looking at her now. ‘Please.’
‘They’ll want to know about the signal.’
‘There was no signal. I was wrong.’
‘Still –’
‘It’ll only get their hopes up. They’ll all want to try to call people. And you’re right about the battery.’
Bree said nothing.
‘Okay?’
As Bree let her hand fall from Alice’s back, Alice reached out and took it, her fingers firm against Bree’s knuckles. It was almost painful.
‘Bree? Come on, you’re s
mart enough to see that I’m right.’
A long pause. ‘I suppose.’
‘Good girl. Thank you. It’s for the best.’
As Bree nodded, she felt Alice drop her hand.
Chapter 18
Daniel Bailey looked small against the front of his sprawling mansion. Falk could see him in the rear-view mirror, watching as he and Carmen drove away. The wrought-iron gate guarding the property slid open silently to allow them to exit.
‘I wonder when Joel Bailey’s planning to come home and face the music,’ Falk said as they drove along the pristine streets.
‘Probably when he needs his mum to do his washing. I bet she’ll do it as well. Willingly.’ Carmen’s stomach rumbled loud enough to be heard over the engine. ‘Do you want to grab something to eat? Jamie won’t have left any food in the house before he went away.’ She peered out of the window as they passed a row of upmarket shops. ‘I don’t really know anywhere around here though. Nowhere that costs less than a mortgage repayment, anyway.’
Falk thought for a minute, weighing up his options. Good idea, bad idea?
‘You could come to mine.’ The words were out before he’d fully decided. ‘I’ll make something.’ He realised he was holding his breath. He let it out.
‘Like what?’
He mentally scanned his cupboards and freezer. ‘Spag bol?’
A nod in the dark. A smile, he thought.
‘Spag bol at your place.’ Definitely a smile, he could hear it in her voice. ‘How could I say no? Let’s go.’
He put the indicator on.
Thirty minutes later, they pulled up outside his St Kilda flat. The waves in the bay had been high and rough as they’d driven past, their white crests glowing in the moonlight. Falk opened the door. ‘Come in.’
His flat had the chill of a home left empty for several days, and he flicked on the light. His trainers were still by the front door where he’d kicked them aside to put on his hiking boots. How many days ago was that? Not even three. It felt like more.
Carmen trooped in behind him and looked around unashamedly. Falk could feel her watching as he did a lap of the living room, switching on lamps. The heater whirred to life and almost immediately it started to feel warmer. The entire room was painted a neutral white, with the few splashes of colour coming from the packed bookshelves that lined the walls. A table in the corner and a couch facing the TV were the only other pieces of furniture. The place felt smaller with another person in it, Falk thought, but not in a cramped way. He tried to remember when he’d last had someone over. It had been a while.
Without waiting for an invitation, Carmen seated herself on a stool at the breakfast bar that separated the modest kitchen from the living space.
‘These are nice,’ she said, picking up one of two hand-knitted dolls lying on top of padded envelopes on the counter. ‘Gifts? Or are you starting a weird collection?’
Falk laughed. ‘Gifts, thanks. I meant to post them this week but didn’t get to it with everything else happening. They’re for the kids of a couple of friends.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ She picked up the envelopes. ‘Not local mates, then?’
‘No. One’s back in Kiewarra, where I grew up.’ He opened a cupboard and concentrated hard on its contents so he didn’t have to look over at her. ‘The other died, actually.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ he said, trying to sound like he meant it. ‘But his little girl’s doing well. She’s in Kiewarra as well. The toys are belated birthday presents. I had to wait to get their names stitched on.’ He pointed to the letters on the dolls’ dresses. Eva Raco. Charlotte Hadler. Both growing like weeds, he’d been told. He hadn’t been back to check for himself and suddenly felt a bit guilty about it. ‘They’re okay presents, aren’t they? For kids?’
‘They’re beautiful, Aaron. I’m sure they’ll love them.’ Carmen carefully returned them to the packages as Falk continued hunting through his cupboards.
‘Do you want a drink?’ He unearthed a single bottle of wine and subtly wiped a layer of dust off it. He was not a big drinker in company, and certainly not alone. ‘Red okay? I thought I might have some white, but . . .’
‘Red’s perfect, thanks. Here, I’ll open it,’ Carmen said, reaching out for the bottle and two glasses. ‘You’ve got a nice place here. Very neat. I have to have about two weeks’ notice to have people round. Although your taste is a little on the monastic side, if I may say so.’
‘You wouldn’t be the first.’ He poked his head into another cupboard and emerged with two large pots. Mince from the freezer went into the microwave to defrost as Carmen poured the wine into two glasses.
‘I’ve never had the patience with all that “let it breathe” rubbish,’ she said, clinking her glass against his. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’
He was conscious of her eyes on him as he put oil, onions and garlic in a pan then, as they sizzled, opened a tin of tomatoes. She had a half-smile on her face.
‘What?’ he said.
‘Nothing.’ She looked at him over the rim of her glass as she took a sip. ‘Just with your whole bachelor pad set-up, I was expecting sauce from a jar.’
‘Don’t get too excited. You haven’t tasted it yet.’
‘No. Smells good, though. I didn’t know you could cook.’
He smiled. ‘That’s probably a bit generous. I can make this and a few other things. It’s like playing the piano, though, isn’t it? You only need to know about five decent pieces you can drag out in company and people think you’re good at it.’
‘So this is your signature dish, as they say on the cooking shows?’
‘One of them. I’ve got exactly four more.’
‘Still, five dishes is four more than some men can make, let me tell you.’ She smiled back and hopped off her stool. ‘Can I turn on the news for a minute?’
Carmen picked up the remote without waiting for an answer. The sound was low but Falk could see the screen out of the corner of his eye. They didn’t have to wait long for an update. The ticker scrolled along the bottom of the screen.
GRAVE FEARS FOR MISSING MELBOURNE HIKER.
A series of photos appeared: Alice Russell, alone, then again in the group shot taken at the start of the trail. Martin Kovac, old images of his four victims, an aerial shot of the Giralang Ranges, a rolling tangle of green and brown stretching to the horizon.
‘Any mention of the son?’ Falk called from the kitchen, and Carmen shook her head.
‘Not yet. It all sounds pretty speculative.’
She turned off the TV and moved over to examine his bookshelves. ‘Good collection.’
‘Feel free to borrow any,’ he said. He read widely, mostly fiction, spanning from the award-studded literary to the shamelessly commercial. He stirred the pan, the aromas filling the room as Carmen examined the shelves. She was brushing her fingers along the spines, pausing once or twice to turn her head and read the titles. Halfway along, she stopped, edging something thin out from between two novels.
‘Is this your dad?’
Falk froze at the stove, knowing without looking what she was talking about. He gave one of the bubbling pots a vigorous stir, before finally turning around. Carmen was holding up a photograph. She had a second one in her hand.
‘Yeah, that’s him.’ Falk wiped his hands on a tea towel and reached across the counter for the picture she was holding. It was unframed and he held it by the edges.
‘What was his name?’
‘Erik.’
Falk hadn’t looked at the picture properly since it had been printed by a nurse and presented to him in a card after the funeral. It showed him next to a frail-looking man in a wheelchair. His dad’s face was drawn and pale. Both men were smiling, but woodenly, as though responding to an instruction from the person behind the camera.
Carmen was looking at the other photo she’d found. She held it up. ‘This one’s really nice. When was this taken?’
‘I’m not sure. A while ago, obviously.’
Falk had a little trouble swallowing as he looked at the second image. The photo quality was less crisp and the camerawork a little shaky, but the smiles it captured were not forced this time. He would be about three years old, he guessed, and sitting on his dad’s shoulders, his hands gripping the sides of Erik’s face, and his chin resting on his dad’s hair.
They were walking along what Falk recognised as the trail that had skirted their large back paddock, and his dad was pointing at something in the distance. Falk had tried a number of times without success to remember what had caught their eye. Whatever it had been, it had made them both laugh. Whether it was the weather, or a stuff-up in the photo development process, the scene was awash with a golden light, giving it the appearance of an endless summer.
Falk had not seen the photo for years, until he’d brought his father’s backpack home from the hospice and emptied out the contents. He hadn’t known his dad had even had it, let alone how long he’d kept it with him. Among all the things in his life Falk wished had gone differently, he wished his dad had shown him this photo while he was still alive.
Not knowing quite how he felt about any of it – the belongings, the funeral, his father’s death – Falk had tucked the backpack with Erik’s maps inside in the bottom of the wardrobe and slid the photos between two of his favourite books until he decided what to do with them. They had all remained there ever since.
‘You look just like him,’ Carmen was saying, her head down, nose close to the image. ‘I mean, obviously not so much in this one in the hospital.’
‘No, he was pretty ill by that stage. He died quite soon after. We used to look more alike.’