Devil's Lair

by Sarah Barrie

  ‘No worries, boss!’

  ‘I’ve got to run. You got this?’ he asked Logan.

  ‘Yeah. No worries. See you after.’

  Connor headed off, taking in the scenery as the horse’s easy stride chewed up the couple of k’s between the cattle yards and the stables. Mountains, sky—space. There were trails you could ride for days, pretty spots to stop or camp. They’d done so enough times as kids. It had been too long since he’d been out there, too long since he’d felt free enough to take the time. Maybe he’d think about what his brother and sister had said after all.

  At the stables he dismounted and gave the big bay stockhorse a pat.

  ‘Connor, hi.’ Larissa, Logan’s stable hand, appeared from somewhere inside.

  ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Great.’ She took the reins. ‘I’ll cool him down.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘No problem.’ She looked up at him with a shy smile. ‘Did you get all the cattle in?’

  ‘Hopefully. Logan should be back soon.’

  ‘Okay. See you.’

  Conner nodded, smiled, and started towards the guesthouse. He knew Larissa had a bit of a thing for him, but it’d pass. She was barely out of her teens. He was pretty damn sure when he was her age, thirty-three had seemed a lifetime away. But the years had passed in the blink of an eye, despite all the shit he’d been through. Hopefully when Larissa did find someone, it’d turn out a whole lot better than his attempt had. Jules. Jeez, the thought of his once fiancée, of what had happened, still hollowed out his stomach and left a bad taste in his mouth.

  He reached the guesthouse steps, walked through the glass doors that slid open in welcome and headed straight for reception. He needed to fill Kaicey in on what was going on later today, but she was on the phone. He waited impatiently, earning a quick, nervous glance from her.

  ‘I can’t talk about this right now,’ she said into the receiver. ‘I’ll call you back. Michael! I’ll call you back!’

  Connor’s impatience turned to concern as he took note of Kaicey’s tone and the lack of colour in her cheeks.

  She put down the phone slowly, closed her eyes, then opened them, plastering a smile on her still pale face. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Connor asked, though it obviously wasn’t.

  Kaicey shrugged it off. ‘Friends and dramas—you know.’

  ‘Okay. I wanted to make sure you knew the skills program for the drug rehab kids starts tomorrow.’

  ‘Yep. All the paperwork’s here in this folder.’ She waved it at him and dropped it back on the desk.

  Of course it was. Kaicey was just that efficient. ‘Great.’ He considered bringing up the idea of a promotion then caught sight of the clock behind her. He was running behind already. With a curse, he took the stairs to the first floor two at a time.

  * * *

  It was a damn shame. Michael Smythe had received his black envelope almost two years ago so he’d hoped he was in the clear, but no, he supposed it shouldn’t really have been too much of a surprise to walk out and see his dog—what was left of it—mutilated and swinging from the big old fig tree, one or two feet from his kids’ brightly painted cubby house. He sighed heavily and looked back at the house. He’d come out for a smoke, left the kids eating Froot Loops in front of the morning cartoon show, and going by the upstairs light, his wife had retreated to the bathroom to get ready for school drop-off and her shift at the local BP. Busy. Good. Best they didn’t see this. He cringed at the thought of getting Buddy down without making a hell of a mess. No, it wasn’t much of a surprise, but it was a nasty one.

  After one last desperate drag, he flicked the cigarette from a hand that wasn’t quite steady, crossed the yard and rattled around in the three-by-six tin shed he stored just about everything in until he found his utility knife.

  ‘Oh man,’ he breathed as he sawed at the rope and let the dog drop. It made a sound he’d rather forget. He pulled the body behind the tree just enough to shield it from the house and went inside to make sure everyone was ready to clear out for the day.

  He quietly mentioned Buddy’s passing to his wife, mumbling some unintelligible reason for the death when the tears turned up and threatened to ruin her mascara. He knew she wouldn’t push for details, not while the kids were around. Better to tell them tonight, after school. He helped them out the door with backpacks and afternoon instructions, reminded them to go to after-school care. And when the car turned out of the street he made a quick call, donned a pair of overalls and a shovel and found a spot for Buddy under the murraya bush. Though he’d never have admitted it, he shed a tear, said a few silent words of thanks for the dog that had helped raise his kids.

  As far as punishments went, it hurt. But that was the point. He was just damn grateful it wasn’t one of his kids in the cold earth. Maybe he should have gone further away than the pretty seaside town of Burnie—interstate might have been a better idea. No point worrying about that now. He wasn’t exactly ashamed of what he’d done back then, though some would say it was wrong. Greater good and all that. He leant the shovel against the old oak and reached for a cigarette.

  He caught a movement in his peripheral vision. Another pair of hands grabbed the shovel, sending it slicing through the air. Before he could react, the sharp edge buried itself in his skull. He dropped like a stone, but he didn’t die.

  Several times over the next couple of hours, he’d wish that first blow had killed him.

  When the kids got home and raced outside to play with Buddy, they were spared the sight of their beloved family pet swinging from the tree. Instead they found their father.

  CHAPTER

  4

  Hunter Valley, New South Wales, 2019

  Callie disinterestedly pushed salad leaves around her plate, her fork squeaking against the china in annoying little spurts. Just the thought of putting anything in her mouth was enough to make her heave. Eighteen months since Dale’s death. Eighteen bloody months and there were still days she expected to wake up at any moment from the nightmare, expected Dale to walk through the door alive and well so they could attack that garden bed by the front gate, get on with their forever. But every day the nightmare only got longer, worse. Please, God, just let it be over.

  ‘Hey.’ Paisley put a hand over Callie’s to still her jerky movements as the squeaking of the fork on the plate got louder and louder. ‘Let me take it away.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Callie said. ‘I just can’t …’

  ‘I get it. It’s no big deal. Why don’t you take one of those sedatives the doctor prescribed and try and sleep?’

  Callie nodded, because the only rest she got from the nightmare was oblivion. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to talk to Mum, then maybe have an early night too.’

  ‘Is everything okay with her?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘It’s just that the whole time I’ve known you up until this last year, you barely ever talked about her. In the last few months, you’ve mentioned her a lot. I guess I just didn’t think you spoke.’

  ‘We’ve always had a difficult relationship. I suppose everything that’s happened has made me think about things differently. I’m trying to make things right. I don’t know. We’ll see.’

  ‘That’s great, Paisley. You should have told me.’

  ‘I wasn’t not telling you on purpose. There’s just been so much going on.’

  Callie nodded and went back to fiddling with her fork. ‘Out of everything, all of it—the arrest, remand, hearings, trial—this is the worst. Why can’t the jury just make up their minds?’

  ‘They will.’

  ‘I thought they would have by now. They can’t have been impressed with my testimony. The prosecution ripped it apart, you know that.’

  ‘It wasn’t that bad.’

  ‘I felt so stupid—I panicked. I stumbled over my words. I didn’t even make sense.’

  ‘
And your lawyer came back with a closing argument that used that distress to your advantage. That’s what the reporters are saying, right?’

  ‘At least you were good. You didn’t waver at all.’

  ‘Try not to overanalyse. It’s only been two days. Don’t do this to yourself. Sleep.’

  ‘Maybe we should go over what’s got to happen.’

  ‘We’ve talked about it,’ Paisley said gently, and prised the fork from her fingers. ‘You said you wouldn’t make any big decisions until whatever happens has had a chance to sink in, for all of this to calm down.’

  ‘I want to sell, Paise. Please. I need you to tell the agent to go ahead and contact next door. Accept their current offer. She has all the information. I can’t run this place from prison. Not that there’s much left to run.’ The winery had shut down. Grapes that had grown fat on the vines were destined to rot on the ground and wine to sit in barrels indefinitely. The bed and breakfast was just as impossible to run. The media presence had seen to that.

  ‘And if you walk free, you’ll want a new start.’

  Callie stared, eyes glazed, into the fireplace, and instead of the sleek, polished mantelpiece and neat stack of logs Paisley had arranged once forensics had finished messing it up, she saw a raging fire, a burning, melting laptop. She saw photographs, a body, destroyed. And when she turned back around to Paisley, saw Dale, damaged and broken in the space on the floor where Paisley’s feet, adorned in red heels, crossed one over the over. Callie hadn’t been comfortable in this house since it happened.

  ‘I’d need a new start. I can’t live here. Not after what’s happened.’

  Paisley’s expression was sympathetic. ‘Okay. No problem. I’ll sort it.’

  ‘Thanks. What are you going to do?’

  ‘I need to get back to New Norfolk, keep an eye on Dad and finally start cleaning the place up. There’s a cottage on the property. Plenty of quiet. Plenty of privacy. When you’re acquitted, you should come with me.’

  ‘When I’m acquitted?’ Callie laughed humourlessly. There wasn’t much chance of that. But she let herself fantasise for a moment. ‘Away from the reporters, where no one knows me. Sounds nice. Almost too nice. I don’t dare hope.’

  ‘Don’t give up hope, Cal,’ Paisley begged. ‘It’s all you’ve got.’

  Callie stood, all too aware of that. ‘I think I might take one of those pills. Goodnight.’

  ‘Night.’

  She went into her room and closed the door. She’d never sleep but sitting downstairs surrounded by Paisley’s well-meaning sympathy was just making her nerves worse. She swallowed one of the sedatives and sat by the window, staring into the darkness. A light snapped to life as someone at the front gate got out of their car. A reporter getting prime spot at her gate? It was late, even for them. They’d plagued her from the day she’d been released on bail, through the preliminary hearing, through finding out she’d have to stand trial, then all through the hellish year of waiting for it. They just didn’t give up. It wasn’t as though no one had ever been murdered before, but something about this case had caught the public’s interest. They were fascinated by the ritualistic murder.

  And there were questions—so many questions. Had Dale been part of a secret cult? Could Callie really have been married to a sadistic killer and not known? Was she involved in some way? Was killing Dale an act of self-defence or an attempt to cover up her own involvement? The list went on, with someone coming up with a new angle every week.

  The car’s interior light dimmed as whoever was at the gate climbed back in. Were they intending on staying there indefinitely? Hoping she might make a last-ditch dash for freedom and skip bail? She’d been lucky to get it. The idea she could already have been a year and a half in lock-up wasn’t pleasant. Perhaps this person was just hoping for a quick word they could put on a TV morning show. One of the news stations had done an internet poll on how many people thought she was guilty. It was almost fifty–fifty. Callie supposed she should feel relieved that at least half the population were on her side. It didn’t stop the nerves clawing away at her. When her eyelids drooped, she lay down and closed her eyes. Maybe tomorrow would be the day the jury made up their minds.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Central Highlands, Tasmania

  ‘Connor—got a minute?’ Kaicey slipped out from reception to catch him at the doors.

  ‘Not exactly, but I got your message, if that’s what you’re about to tell me. I’m heading down to the stables to meet Cole’s new rehab group now.’

  ‘That’s not it.’

  ‘Okay, you want to walk with me, meet them?’

  ‘Sure. I just wanted to query my last pay. There’s too much money in there.’

  ‘It’s a raise.’

  ‘A raise? Really?’

  ‘You’ve earned it. You’ve been working above your paygrade for months. I’d like to talk to you about an official personal assistant role.’

  Kaicey’s eyes bulged. ‘Yes! That would be great.’

  He nodded. ‘We’ll discuss the details this afternoon then.’

  They reached the petting farm. Kaicey gave one of the hand-raised steers a pat on her way past its yard. ‘Do you think this is something you’ll continue to do every year?’

  ‘Give you a raise?’ he asked.

  She laughed. ‘I meant the program.’

  ‘Yeah. Logan’s keen. And he scored Harvey from the first lot, so that worked out well.’

  ‘He’s a nice guy. I like him.’

  ‘Let’s hope this next group work out the same.’ Connor couldn’t have been happier with what they’d achieved from the first program: three teens employed and looking for all the world like they’d turned their lives around. ‘There they are.’

  The men were standing by the car, waiting with Cole. Two boys of no more than twenty, both tall and lanky and talking quietly. Off to the side was an older man, who was watching Connor and Kaicey’s approach with interest. Tall and thin, with sharp, dark features, torn black jeans, black top and black hair long enough for a ponytail. No earrings, but the holes were there. And—really?—black nail polish. Connor knew the goth thing was popular with some of the young ones, but this guy had to be thirty. He tried not to be judgemental, even as he wondered just why the hell the guy had decided he wanted to be a stockman.

  Connor realised Kaicey was no longer beside him, so he stopped and turned. She was a few strides back, staring past him at the group. Her face had lost almost all of its previous colour. Concerned, he went back to her.

  ‘Kaicey, what is it?’

  She turned eyes to him that were both upset and nervous. ‘I think I might head back to the office.’

  ‘Okay. Sure. But, ah … You want to tell me about it?’

  ‘No. I—’

  ‘Kristen.’ The older guy in black approached quickly, smiling, though he seemed nervous.

  ‘It’s Kaicey!’ she snapped.

  ‘Oh—right. Been so long I forgot. How are you?’

  ‘Fine. Why are you here?’

  He shuffled his feet, gave a small shrug. ‘I … got caught up with some guys, ended up having to do a couple of years inside. I knew Dustin—for a while. He showed me a photo of all of you guys together on the last day. I thought … I thought I recognised you.’ He stopped tripping over his words and took a breath, then lowered his voice. ‘I got my envelope. I felt safe enough inside all this time but I’m getting out and … I didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Kaicey bit out. ‘I have work to do.’ She spun around and, with a nervous glance back, walked away.

  Connor didn’t know what this guy was talking about either, but his presence had very obviously upset Kaicey. He studied him, waiting to see if he had anything else to say. But the guy was watching Kaicey’s retreat.

  ‘Everything okay here?’ Cole asked, joining them.

  ‘I need a word,’ Connor said.

  Cole nodded as
though expecting it. ‘Why don’t you head back over to the others, Orson? I’ll be with you in a moment.’

  ‘What’s he doing here, Cole? The program is supposed to be a training opportunity for young offenders. That guy doesn’t fit the profile.’

  Cole pressed two fingers to his forehead, gave a small wince and nodded. ‘The program parameters were extended so we’d get the numbers for funding. Not just young offenders now, but any prisoner undergoing the rehab program. Still only minimum-security inmates who’re transitioning back into society. I sent you the email.’

  ‘I didn’t get it. What was he in for?’

  ‘Drug supply charge. Got him twenty months inside. He’s not a bad guy. Suffers bouts of depression and anxiety, takes meds. Model prisoner.’

  ‘I don’t know, Cole.’

  ‘He needs this, Connor. I was hoping it wouldn’t be a big deal. If we don’t have the numbers, the funding will get pulled. Then kids like Jake and Matty over there don’t get the opportunity. Just one chance. Please.’

  Connor sighed heavily. The age issue really wasn’t the problem, and he didn’t want the other two to miss out. Besides, he’d been looking forward to running the program again. So he’d talk to Kaicey, and in the meantime told Cole, ‘One chance.’ And he’d have a word to Logan, let him know what had happened. ‘Is Logan down here?’

  ‘In the office, said he’d only be a sec.’

  ‘Then let’s go get introduced.’

  By the end of it, Connor was deliberating between getting on a horse and taking off for a while or locking himself away in his office to get some extra work done. Since the weather forecast wasn’t pleasant and the wind was picking up, he decided on the latter. As he approached the upstairs office, he heard voices, so he stuck his head in Tess’s door. She and Indy were looking at something on her laptop. The television was on in the background.