‘So you have no idea?’ Matt asked.
Geoff shook his head. ‘None whatsoever.’
Matt was worried about Geoff’s blood pressure. He took the lead and walked into the room. The air conditioner was barely functioning and fans circled above his head, working hard at stirring the stale air. They were ineffective and only worsened the smell of body odour.
It took ages before Matt had everyone’s attention. Gradually the voices faded as people stopped talking.
‘G’day, everyone.’ He kept his voice upbeat. ‘What’s going on here?’
A middle aged older couple approached him. He knew they lived in one of the larger homes in town, but couldn’t remember their names.
‘Good evening, Sergeant,’ the woman said. Her voice dripped honey. ‘We were only having a little meeting about the issues going on here in town since the Peppercorn Project families arrived.’
Fear clutched at Matt’s gut. What was going on? This was something bigger than minor thefts at the primary school. He cast his eyes around the room. There was no sign of any of the new families. Something was up and he did not like the feeling he was getting. He looked around for Rachel, but couldn’t see her. Where was she? She was always in the centre of whatever was happening in town.
‘What kind of issues?’ he asked, keeping his voice controlled.
‘Drugs,’ the man stated emphatically. ‘Specifically, methamphetamines.’ He pronounced the word slowly, enunciating each syllable, as though it was still unfamiliar on his tongue.
Matt’s heart sped up. The temperature in the room felt like it had risen several degrees. ‘Give me specifics,’ he demanded. Sweat prickled as it ran down his back.
‘John Macka’s kid got offered drugs the other night,’ the man said, indicating another man in his mid-forties on the other side of the room, another local farmer.
John spoke up from where he sat and his voice wavered. ‘I’ve got a seventeen-year-old son. He’s a good kid. He just finished his exams. He and a bunch of his mates were hanging out at the clubrooms after the cricket last Saturday, and he came home and told me drugs were being handed around like lollies out the back.’
‘What kind of drugs?’
‘He said it was something called “shard”,’ John replied.
Matt froze. Shard. Another name for ice.
‘Some kids were taking tablets, and some of them were smoking it.’
As he had been predicting, it sounded like the ice age had come to Stony Creek.
Another woman stood. ‘My daughter was at that party too. She said one of her friends tried it and she hasn’t slept in six days since. Is that possible?’
Matt stopped himself from groaning aloud. He wished the town had let him run drug forums so they were prepared for this. ‘Ice gives young people a feeling of grandiosity – like they’re powerful, indestructible, super-human,’ he said.
‘That’s how my daughter described it.’ The woman’s voice rose in fear. ‘She said her friend was acting like he could do anything. It scared her. Her friend’s normally really quiet.’
He sighed. It was often the kids with low self-esteem who tried the drug and got hooked because it gave them a new found self-confidence – until the delusions started, followed by the paranoia, the hallucinations and then the anxiety, which too often ended in tragedy.
But he wasn’t going to tell the people that. Nor was he going to tell them stories of ice users who couldn’t remember doing a hundred and fifty in a sixty zone and killing a pedestrian, or addicts holding a knife to their mother’s throat when she refused to give them money to fund their habit. He had plenty of stories, but right now they needed calm, not hysteria.
It was silent except for the whirring of the overhead fans and the occasional cough.
‘So who wants to explain what any of this has to do with the Peppercorn families?’ Matt asked evenly.
John puffed up his chest. ‘Until the Peppercorn Project, we’ve never had an issue here in town with drugs.’
Matt didn’t want to burst his bubble and tell him he was probably wrong and that this was just the first time the issue had erupted to the surface. But he also had to admit that the timing of the arrival of the new families made it look suspicious. And he didn’t believe in coincidence.
‘So do we know where these drugs are coming from?’ a woman’s voice called out from the crowd.
‘Yeah, that’s what I want to know!’ someone else shouted. Another scared mother, judging by the sound of her voice.
‘More importantly,’ a third voice called out, a man this time, ‘how are we going to get rid of the drugs?’
Animated voices joined in, everyone asking questions.
‘I say we need to get rid of the Peppercorn families!’ A male voice boomed loud above the din.
Matt stepped back as though he’d been physically punched in the chest. Beside him, he heard Geoff’s sharp intake of breath. Loud arguing ensued, each person louder than the last in an attempt to have his or her opinion heard. Matt held up his hands and slowly counted to ten. It took that long before he had their attention again.
‘One at a time. Give me evidence. Who has proof any one of these new families are dealing drugs to your kids?’
Voices shouted and again Matt held up his hand. It was like speaking to a bunch of preschoolers. He pointed to a raised hand, scratching around in his memory for the woman’s name. He came up blank.
An ancient-looking woman stood unsteadily, her gnarled hands gripping the back of the seat in front of her. ‘My name is Edith Patterson. My husband George and I live near one of the new families. The one with all the kids. Now I know most of you think I’m a cranky old thing and I know I don’t get out much these days, but my mind’s still sharp as a tack. Can’t say the same for George’s. Anyhow, let me tell you, there’s been strange things going on since they arrived. I wake up to find gates on our property are open and someone has moved sheep from one paddock to another. I have to padlock the hens’ enclosure at night because someone keeps letting them out and the foxes keep getting them. Little things have gone missing – nothing major, but enough old farm machinery to notice it’s gone. The dogs bark more than usual at night, and I reckon someone’s prowling around. I can see their house from mine, and there’s always lights on in the shed – day and night.’ She leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘I reckon that might be where they’re making the drugs.’
For an old woman, Edith was very persuasive. Matt admitted her concerns sounded valid. He’d take a trip out to her farm to investigate.
‘Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?’ he asked. ‘Why haven’t you reported it?’
‘I did,’ she replied. ‘When Isabelle Cassidy was out caring for George the other day I told her and Dr Hugo to pass it on to you.’ She paused for dramatic effect, rocking back on her heels. ‘I wonder why she didn’t tell you.’
Matt frowned, wondering the same thing.
Another hand shot up. ‘What about that black family? Has anyone checked their mail? They probably get the drugs shipped directly to them from wherever they’re from.’
He glared at the ignorant person who had spoken. ‘That black family, as you call them, are a professional couple from Melbourne. And if they were receiving drugs in the mail, I can assure you they wouldn’t make it through border security.’
‘What about Isabelle Cassidy?’ a woman’s voice cried out. ‘She’s from Torquay. That’s near Geelong. Apparently, Geelong is the ice capital of Australia. And we know nothing about her ex-husband. What if he’s working behind the scenes or something?’
Matt nearly lost his patience then. Geoff placed a hand on his arm, trying to restrain him, but he shook him off. ‘I think you all need to take a damn hard look at yourselves and leave the detective work up to Senior Sergeant Monahan and me. We will investigate everything you’ve mentioned, but I can assure you, we won’t only be looking at the Peppercorn families. If drugs are coming into Stony Creek
, they’re coming in right under your noses. And being distributed by a source you’d least expect.’
He spun on his heel, strode to the exit and slammed the door behind him.
*
After Isabelle trudged home from the pub, she put Mietta into bed and took a long shower. As she allowed the hot water to cascade over her head and shoulders, she prayed her swirling emotions would wash down the drain. She hadn’t been ready for the way another man could make her feel, but being around Matt made her viscerally alive. She remembered the way her skin had tingled when he touched her lightly on the arm. She remembered how a long-forgotten warmth had spread through her body when he smiled at her, the way she craved the feeling of his lips against hers.
‘Stop it!’ she spoke aloud, her voice trapped by the steam in the bathroom.
She jammed the taps off, towelled herself dry, and put on her pyjamas. She needed to talk to someone, but who? Who would understand her crazy thoughts? Who would tell her whether it was possible to still be in love with Dan and fall for another man?
She had dried her hair, brushed her teeth and covered her face in moisturizer, when there was a light tap at the front door. She frowned. Matt had said he wanted to come over later, but then he’d taken that phone call and left in a hurry with no explanation. She opened the door and at the sight of him standing there, her heart began to race again.
‘Hi.’ In the darkness behind his massive silhouette, the crickets reached a crescendo.
‘Sorry to drop over so late. Is Fletcher up? I’ve brought the bike over for him.’
‘Come in. He’s in his room, but he’ll still be awake.’
Aware her thin cotton pyjamas left little to the imagination, Isabelle wrapped her arms around her chest as she led the way down the narrow hallway to the kitchen. She flicked on the kettle. ‘Cup of tea?’
‘That sounds perfect. Just what I need.’
‘Everything okay?’
Matt ran his hands through his hair and scratched his chin. He leaned back against the cabinets and crossed his ankles. ‘Fine.’
She raised her eyebrows. He looked like something heavy was weighing him down.
‘Police business,’ he said. ‘All sorted now.’
‘Fair enough.’
Isabelle looked up to see Fletcher standing in the doorway. Matt turned. ‘G’day, mate. Glad you’re still up. I’ve got something to give you.’
She saw the look of interest pass across Fletcher’s face. ‘A puppy?’
Matt smiled at her. ‘No. I wouldn’t do that without checking with your mum first.’
‘What is it?’ Fletcher asked.
‘Go and see. It’s out the front. It’s too big to bring inside.’
Fletcher looked across at her. Isabelle shrugged and pretended she had no idea what it might be.
‘Go on,’ Matt urged. ‘Go and see for yourself.’
Fletcher ran up the hallway, opened the front door and seconds later he exclaimed in surprise. A slow smile spread across Matt’s face. He held out his hand and she took it gingerly. ‘Come and check it out.’
They walked to the front door and Isabelle’s eyes widened. When Matt had said he would give Fletcher one of his spare bikes, she’d expected a rusty old mountain bike. This one looked brand new. Either that, or Matt had meticulously cared for it.
Fletcher was still staring at it, his mouth open in awe. He looked from Matt to Isabelle and back to Matt, as if receiving a bike was the nicest thing anyone had done for him. Isabelle’s chest constricted. Dan used to come home from work regularly with gifts for the kids.
‘Can I take it for a spin?’ Fletcher asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Isabelle said. ‘It’s too dark now.’
‘Issie,’ Matt said. ‘There are no cars. Fletch will be safe riding up the street and back again.’
‘But he hasn’t ridden a bike since he was a little boy,’ she argued.
‘Mum! Give me some credit,’ Fletcher growled. ‘I’m not a kid any more. I reckon I know how to ride a bike.’
Isabelle conceded defeat. Matt put his hand on Fletcher’s shoulder and together they wheeled the bike out the gate and onto the road. It was a long time since anyone touched Fletcher in a fatherly manner, and her heart thudded in her chest, worried Fletcher would pull away. On the contrary, he appeared to enjoy it. He mounted the bike and took off. Wobbling at first, he soon found his rhythm.
Matt returned to her side. ‘You’re going to have to stop worrying about him so much, Issie,’ he said gently as they watched Fletcher ride up and down the street outside the house. Each time he rode past them, he grinned like a Cheshire cat.
She sighed. ‘I know, but it’s not easy.’
‘I’m sure it’ll get easier as he gets older.’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘There’s more to worry about when they get older. If I’m like this now, how am I going to be when he starts driving? Then there’s all this talk about drugs, which scares me.’
Matt frowned. ‘What talk about drugs?’
Isabelle shrugged. ‘Nothing specific.’
‘Has Fletcher been offered drugs?’
‘No! At least not that I’m aware.’
‘Have you talked to him? Made sure he knows he can talk to you if someone offers him drugs?’
A shiver raced down her spine. Twice in one night. First Leah and now Matt. ‘What’s going on, Matt?’
‘Nothing.’
Should she tell him what Leah had said about Hugo?
‘Talk to Fletcher about drugs,’ Matt said. ‘If he hears anything, make sure he knows he can talk to me any time.’
She nodded, but something else niggled at the edges of her brain. Three times on Friday patients from neighbouring towns had shown up looking for Hugo.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’ He nudged her gently with his elbow.
She put her worries aside as Fletcher rode past them again, still grinning.
‘He’s okay here on the street, but how will he go off-road?’
‘I’ll make sure we do lots of practice runs on easy trails first before we tackle anything too big,’ Matt promised. ‘Trust me.’
She looked across at him. His smile was as broad as Fletcher’s.
‘How much is this bike worth, Matt?’
He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. Did you see the look on Fletcher’s face? Seeing him smile like that makes it priceless. He looks like a kid who’s been handed the keys to a Lamborghini.’
Matt was right. ‘How can we ever thank you?’ Isabelle said. ‘You’re so good to us.’
‘Right now I’d settle for a hug.’
She hesitated before taking a step closer. He wrapped his arms around her, and she melted into his embrace, forgetting she was wearing hardly any clothing. Fletcher pulled up beside them and she jerked away, worried about his reaction. Rather than the scowl she expected, Fletcher smiled at them with a strange expression she couldn’t interpret.
‘Do you want to come back in and have that cup of tea I promised?’ she asked Matt, fighting to find normal footing. Tonight would be the perfect time to talk, to tell him about Dan.
He paused, long enough for Isabelle to feel a sharp stab of disappointment.
‘No. Thanks for the offer, Issie, but it’s late and I’ve got an early start tomorrow. I’ve got some things that need sorting at work. I just wanted to drop in and give the bike to Fletcher like I promised.’ Turning to Fletcher he added, ‘Keep the bike inside, okay, mate? You don’t want to have it stolen. I’ll take you out on the weekend, or one night after school, and get you on real tracks instead of the road.’
Fletcher nodded, wheeling the bike inside. ‘Thanks heaps, Matt.’
‘Goodnight, Issie. I promise we’ll make another time to catch up and talk. Just the two of us.’
He bent down and kissed her lightly on the cheek, the stubble of his beard softer than Isabelle expected. It was a friendly gesture and she tried not to read anythi
ng into it, but when it grazed her skin, a jolt like electricity shot through her and her heart began to pound in her ears.
Matt pulled back. She suspected he’d felt it too.
*
As she was turning out lights and getting ready for bed, Fletcher called out. She entered his room and he shifted sideways to make room for her on the edge of his bed. His fingers plucked at an invisible spot on the blanket.
‘The bike’s cool,’ she said.
He nodded, eyes cast downwards.
‘You’re a lucky boy. I’m sure it’s worth a lot of money, so you must take good care of it.’
‘I will.’
Fletcher inhaled deeply and let his breath out in a rush, mumbling something Isabelle didn’t catch.
‘What did you say?’
‘I like Matt,’ he said quietly.
‘I’m glad. He’s a nice guy. I like Matt too.’
‘When he hugged you tonight—’
Her throat tightened. ‘Yes?’
‘I dunno. I guess, well, I guess it felt right, you know?’
‘I’m not sure I do know.’
‘Remember before we moved here I asked you if you’d ever get married again?’
Isabelle nodded. She remembered as if it were yesterday. ‘I promised you I wouldn’t do anything without your approval.’
‘Yeah, well, if you were ever going to marry again, someone like Matt would be okay.’
Chapter 29
‘Daddy. Daa-dd-y.’
Matt woke with a fright very early the following Sunday morning to the sound of someone moaning. He sat bolt upright in bed, instantly alert, groping for his glasses on the bedside table. They weren’t in their usual place … and then he remembered. He wasn’t in his own bed. He was at Isabelle’s house. In Isabelle’s bed. He glanced over and saw her side of the bed was empty, and for a brief moment he forgot why he was there. Then he recalled. The day before, Isabelle had driven back to Geelong for meetings with the conveyancer and bank to sign papers and finalise the sale of her house. After much deliberation, she’d finally agreed to let him look after Fletcher and Mietta for the weekend.
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