by Sarah Barrie
‘Thanks for stepping in, just in case.’
‘I had my trusty—’ She held it up. ‘What’s this?’
‘Trowel,’ Callie said with a laugh.
‘That’s a nice sound,’ Connor said.
She turned around, her smile dropping a fraction as she searched his face, hoping to read what he was thinking.
He solved the problem by planting a light kiss on her mouth. ‘Hi.’
‘Ah … hi,’ she said, melting. He was watching her with so much warmth, any traces of concern that he might have been annoyed by her absence vanished.
‘Yeah, hi,’ Tess said loudly, ‘and can I ask, when did this happen?’
‘The definition of “this” isn’t quite sorted yet,’ Callie mumbled.
‘I’m glad you’re back,’ Connor said.
‘So am I. I’m sorry I didn’t call but—something’s happened,’ she said. Because his smile had dropped and he wore the expression he’d worn when Orson had gone missing.
‘Yeah, it has,’ he said and paused. ‘We found Orson’s body this morning.’
‘What? Where?’ Tess and Callie asked simultaneously.
‘Up in the national park. About five kilometres from our back fence.’
‘But the police searched there,’ Tess said, confused.
‘Yeah. Um … Indy thinks he was brought back there for the … murder. It looks like he’s been there since the day following his disappearance.’
‘Murdered,’ Callie repeated quietly.
‘Yeah.’
She guessed there was more he wasn’t saying. She didn’t mind, as she wasn’t sure she needed to hear it anyway. This was no doubt the call Indy had raced off to.
‘Do we know who killed him?’ Tess asked.
‘Not yet. And yeah, Indy and her team are up there working on it.’
‘So Indy’s a homicide detective?’ Callie asked.
‘Among other things.’
‘It doesn’t really surprise me,’ she said.
‘Does this mean we have to shut down the guesthouse for an investigation?’ Tess asked.
‘No, it’s not looking like it. None of us are suspects—we can all vouch for one another, and his body was left in the park. There’s no evidence anything took place on the property. It’s fine to keep running.’
‘You look exhausted,’ Callie said. ‘You should go rest.’
‘I don’t think I’d get that image out of my head. But I’m going to head up, get something to eat. Maybe a drink. How are you ladies going?’
‘I think we could just about call it a day,’ Tess said. ‘Callie?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, no longer in the mood for work. ‘That’ll do.’
* * *
An hour later Connor led Callie back to her car. ‘Thanks for the drink,’ she told him as she dug out her key.
‘Yeah, no worries.’ He wasn’t sure why she was thanking him, he’d barely said a word. Tess, as usual, had done everything she could to brighten everyone up. People liked that about her, how she always bounced back. It was a trait he admired most of the time. No doubt tomorrow, or the next day, she’d draw a smile out of him. But he was dog tired and done with today. Seeing Callie was the only thing that hadn’t pushed him towards his apartment, a bottle of scotch and a probable hangover. ‘How’d everything turn out with the woman that bailed you up?’
‘Not so good for the woman. Her name’s Marcie. She’s missing.’
‘That’s no good.’ He saw the smirk. ‘Is it funny?’
‘No,’ she said with a burst of quickly contained laughter. ‘It’s about as horrible as your attempt at sympathy. You were thinking she won’t be able to bother me anymore.’
‘How the hell did you get that?’
‘If you’re going to pull back the words, you need to remember to pull back the face too.’
He pressed her back against the car and knocked the cap from her head, raking his fingers into her hair as he crushed his mouth to hers. She made a hmm sound in her throat as she accepted his hot, hungry demand and met it with her own.
By the time he managed to pull himself up, he was out of breath, his whole body throbbing. ‘Thank God you came back,’ he muttered, and dived in again.
When he lifted his head the next time, Callie’s lips were swollen and her eyes dangerously dreamy.
‘Exhibitionist,’ she murmured.
Having no idea what she was on about, he looked around and noticed the tour bus had pulled up and people were milling around, pretending to mind their own business. ‘If you’d prefer some privacy we can …’
The chuckle came from deep in her throat and went straight to his loins. ‘I’m going home,’ she told him, lifting on her toes to place one final kiss on his mouth. ‘Bye.’
He watched her go, pulling himself back together as best he could before heading inside.
‘Connor, office?’ Logan said from the top of the stairs.
Curious, he hurried up the stairs. Indy was waiting with Tess. ‘When did you get back?’ he asked her.
‘Just now. You were, ah … otherwise engaged,’ Indy said with an attempt at amusement that didn’t quite light up her tired eyes.
‘How did you go out there?’
‘I doubt I’m going to be able to keep this quiet so I’m telling you now,’ Indy said as they sat around his dining table, ‘Orson’s not the only victim of whoever is responsible for this. There was another victim killed in the same way a few weeks back. During the initial investigation it was revealed the victim had been burying his dog at the time of the attack so no one thought too much about the animal’s grave site. I sent a team out there an hour ago and had them dig it up. It looks as though the dog might have been killed in a similar fashion to Bailey.’
‘And you’re thinking you could be dealing with a serial killer?’ Logan asked in disbelief.
‘I’m not ready to put a label on this yet,’ Indy said. ‘But whoever this is, they’re incredibly skilled at not leaving evidence.’
‘Have you found Kaicey?’ he asked, worried. ‘She assumed Orson was dead before we even knew what was going on. She told me she was the only one left. She knows who this is.’
‘We can’t find her, but we’re still looking.’
Connor swore. ‘I brought this here.’
‘Oh, come on, man, don’t do that to yourself,’ Logan said. ‘You’ve got to learn that sometimes fucked-up things happen. You don’t have a damn crystal ball. You’re not responsible for this any more than you were responsible for Jules. And honestly, you’re starting to piss me off. We’ve got enough to worry about without making everything your fault.’
‘All right,’ Connor said. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Keep a close eye out for anything or anyone out of the ordinary,’ Indy said. ‘Whatever this is, it’s not centred around or directed at this place. There’s no reason to think the killer will come back here. I’ll let you know when I can share anything else.’
CHAPTER
23
Callie sprang awake, freezing and shaking, arms over her face protectively as she fought for breath. Little by little the dream cleared and her pulse resumed its regular, steady beat, and her hands dropped back to her sides. It was morning. After that nightmare, thank God it was morning. What had started as another dream of pink and pretty things had darkened and contorted into a terrifying black hole of menacing shadows and dangerous shapes clawing and pulling at her, robbing her of breath. The images continued to dance around the edges of her consciousness as she got up and calmed herself down. Just a dream, she told herself. Just a very vivid dream.
She pulled up the blankets and heard the thump of something hitting the floor. A book.
What was a book doing on her bed?
Frowning, she picked it up. It was heavy and old, its dark-red cloth cover marked, its spine faded and damaged. The gilt title read The Fairy Tales of Brothers Grimm. A first edition, she noted, flicking through the aged pages with th
eir detailed illustrations. They certainly weren’t pictures that would have helped her sleep as a child, she thought, looking at a little boy and girl being lured into the dwelling of an evil old woman. She went to the kitchen for coffee, wrinkling her nose at the remains of the tuna mornay she’d eaten right before sleeping last night. She was pretty sure indigestion could cause bad dreams. She’d refrain from eating late from now on. Perhaps would never eat it again. She took the book over to the shelf. Before she went into a meltdown panic she’d make sure Paisley didn’t know anything about it. They had brought some books and other bits and pieces back while she was here; perhaps it had gotten caught up in her doona and she hadn’t noticed. Callie wasn’t sure she really believed it, but they’d changed the locks on the doors. She was now the only person in existence with the keys. No one could get in.
It was early, but Paisley would be up, so she called her.
‘I have no idea,’ Paisley said when Callie mentioned the book. ‘I remember the edition, because the stories in there aren’t the sweetness-and-light fairy tales of today, so I used to read it to freak myself out when I was little. Maybe I did bring it back with us to the cottage, but there’s something else I need to tell you that’s more important.’
Callie didn’t like Paisley’s tone, and the book was suddenly forgotten. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘There’s a good chance Dale’s parents are going to sue for a share of the property money.’
‘They what?’ Callie put her hand on her head and swore in disbelief.
‘I know, right? Pair of arseholes. I couldn’t believe it either, but you know how reliable Tracy Marks is with that sort of gossip. She swears Francis just came right out and said it in the middle of her hair colour.’
‘What kind of share?’
‘They think they’re entitled to Dale’s half of everything. Apparently they have an appointment with their solicitor next Friday. Francis said because of the circumstances of Dale’s death and the fact they threw money at the place to help get it up and running, they should be entitled to his share.’
‘They can’t!’
‘That I don’t know, but maybe think about talking to your solicitor to make sure? You know they’re friends with Myra from the estate agent. I wouldn’t be surprised if she let slip the offer on the place and that got them thinking about all this.’
‘I will. See if there’s anything we can do if they do decide to go ahead with it.’
‘Sorry to drop that on you.’
‘Better that I know in advance. I’ll let you know what I find out.’ Callie ended the call and found her solicitor’s number. It wasn’t difficult to dig out—it was stored in her phone and she almost knew it by heart. She left a message, hoped it wouldn’t take long to hear back.
Anger sat on her chest and threatened to strangle her. She wanted to call Dale’s parents, tell them what she thought of them and promise they wouldn’t get away with it. To escape the temptation she grabbed her jacket and went out into the cold to breathe some fresh air.
The river sparkled as the sun broke through a rising blanket of fog. Callie turned the radio on to stop the chatter of her own thoughts and sipped her coffee as she watched the day wake up from her position on the patio. As a song faded, the radio host announced a beautiful clear day following an impressive Bridgewater Jerry. Was that what they called the fog around here?
She heard a car and peeked around the corner of the cottage to see Indy pull up.
Indy smiled when she spotted Callie, getting out of the car and taking a thick, wool-lined jacket and a plastic folder from the backseat. ‘Morning. Aren’t you cold?’ she called.
‘No. But I have six layers on. Coffee?’
‘It would be appreciated. Is the fire on inside by any chance?’
Callie smiled, hoped it looked normal. ‘Hey, you’re the local, aren’t you supposed to have thick blood or something?’
‘It must take more years than I’ve been here.’
Callie got up and opened the door. ‘Come in.’ She headed straight for the kitchen. ‘So what’s up?’ Though Indy’s tone had been brisk and cheerful enough, something told her this was business.
Indy slid into a chair at the table and took the coffee-filled mug, wrapping her hands around it. ‘I suppose Connor would have told you about Orson Lovett?’
‘The one who was murdered up on the national park trails behind Calico Mountain.’
‘Right.’ Indy inhaled the steam from her mug, took a cautious sip. ‘Did he happen to give you any details?’
‘No. Why?’
‘I’ll get to that. Can I show you a couple of photos? I want to see if you recognise anyone.’
Callie couldn’t see why she would, but she didn’t have any objection. ‘Sure.’
She took the first photo. Studied it. Fair hair, nothing outstanding about the man that would make her remember him or even look twice. ‘No.’
‘Okay, what about this one?’
‘That’s Orson.’
‘Yes.’
She took another look at the first photo. Perhaps … ‘Wait—what’s this one’s name?’
‘Michael Smythe. But he’d been going by the name Mitch Walker. Why?’
‘Hold on.’ Callie went to the bookshelf and scanned the titles, finding Paisley’s yearbook. She flicked through to the page she was looking for and found the photo of the group of kids at the function, checking their names. ‘Did you know they were friends at school?’
‘Woods and Lovett? No. I didn’t know about that connection.’ She took the open book and studied it closely. ‘That’s Mike and Orson. Dale—your husband? And Paisley, Lisa Mathers, Kristen Callaghan—’
‘Kaicey.’
Indy looked closer. ‘You’re right.’
‘They’re in different classes and year groups. But in the social photos it’s clear they were friends. Dale moved up to the Hunter the year after this.’
‘Dale never mentioned any of these people?’
‘Paisley, of course. He might have mentioned the others, I can’t remember.’
Indy nodded, put down the yearbook and pointed to the girl with her arm around Dale’s shoulders. ‘Callie, I’m sorry to go over this so graphically, but you know how badly mutilated the woman in the photos was, so I need you to tell me—because you saw her alive—could this be the same Lisa who turned up on your doorstep?’
Callie’s stomach sank but she considered the image carefully. Could it? ‘I suppose it’s possible but she really didn’t look anything like that. She looked … sick, thin, and her hair was dyed.’
‘When all this started back in the Hunter, was Lisa the only stranger to turn up?’
‘Initially, yes, though later there was one guy.’
‘Who?’
‘I don’t know. He came to the house a couple of times during the trial. Then I saw him again, outside the courthouse afterwards. He wasn’t media.’
‘Have you seen him down here?’
‘No.’
‘Okay. If that changes, let me know.’ Indy looked up from the notes she was taking and took another sip of coffee. ‘Next, I want you to think back to just prior to the night of Lisa’s death. Did you have any pets go missing or die?’
Callie shook her head slowly. ‘We didn’t own pets. Dale wanted a dog but we were so busy and with guests coming in and out all the time, we thought it might be a bit too much to juggle.’
‘No neighbours out looking for pets, no stories of anything nasty?’
‘The only thing even close to that was when Dale came home that next morning and said he’d hit a kangaroo with his car. He told me because he had scratches on his face he was trying to explain. Oh, and Lisa said her cat was dead. She just kind of blurted it out while saying she needed to tell, to end it. It was a weird statement. Didn’t make any sense.’
Indy’s eyes flared with interest. ‘That wasn’t in any of your transcripts.’
‘I honestly forgot all about it.’
‘Okay,’ Indy said, noting that down.
‘Indy, where are you going with all this? What has Lisa and a dead cat got to do with Orson’s death?’
‘I’m still working on that.’
‘But you think it’s all tied together. They all knew each other, but you didn’t know that before you got here. So there’s something else.’
‘I’ll let you know when I can.’ She smiled. ‘Did you mention that support group list to Paisley?’
‘No—sorry. Something came up and I forgot.’
‘No problem. I’ll give her a call. Can I borrow the yearbook?’
‘I guess. I don’t think Paisley would mind.’
‘And if you don’t mind, I might get you to sit down with a sketch artist. Get something together on this man who was bothering you during the trial. Just to be on the safe side.’
‘Sure. If you really think so. When?’
‘How does today sound?’
* * *
Connor was looking forward to a ride. The sky was brightening over a clear horizon and the forecast was cold but sunny. He jogged downstairs and out into the guesthouse before anyone could catch him. He’d deliberately left his phone in his apartment. He’d be an hour—two, tops. Tess could deal with any dramas until he returned. He’d take Bracken and Gypsy, head over to where Callie would be working and surprise her with a ride out on the trails, see if they could get as far as the national park. He’d avoid the area Orson was found, of course, head up somewhere high where Callie could get a sense of the size of everything out here.
The animals in the petting farm were noisy—breakfast time, he realised. Sure enough, Logan was unloading feeds from the ute and dispensing them. Two enormous pigs guzzled theirs from a trough while innumerable other hand-raised, generally placid animals complained noisily about how hungry they were.
‘Morning!’ Connor called.
Logan waved, dumped some hay for three fat steers, and walked across. ‘Where are you sneaking off to?’
‘You lot are always hassling me for not getting out of the office. So I’m getting out of the office. Early. Before too many things can go wrong without me.’
‘Well, I’ve got one problem I can tell you about,’ Logan said. ‘Missing goat.’