A Light in the Dark (Taylor's Bend, #3)

by Elisabeth Rose

  He and Riley sat in the kitchen, unable to sleep any longer but yawning and exhausted, picking at cereal.

  ‘You’ll have to stay indoors and not answer your phone to a number or name you don’t know,’ Arlo said. ‘Don’t tell your mates anything beyond the obvious. I don’t want the media talking to you.’

  Gritting his teeth, Arlo phoned Debra. She hadn’t heard anything which was good because after relaying the facts he could assure her Riley had been in no danger whatsoever and that he’d already decided to send him back to Sydney. Naturally, she was shocked and horrified.

  ‘Of course he should come home,’ she said.

  ‘He doesn’t want to go,’ Arlo said. ‘He wants to stay with his mate Sam.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. He has to get right away from you.’

  ‘That’s harsh.’ His heart sank. She was back where they’d been years ago. He’d be lucky to have Riley back.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean … I know you’re doing your best and Riley’s happier than he’s been all year but blowing up your home? That’s horrific, Arlo. Why would anyone do that? Don’t they know your son lives with you?’

  ‘They may have done it because they knew we weren’t there, that we’d moved.’

  He didn’t think that was true and neither did Rupe. His car was in the driveway. Everyone who’d come to help thought the same thing, that he and Riley were asleep inside. He had a flat battery to thank for the mistake or they may have bombed Mia’s house instead.

  His comment didn’t mollify her much but she said in a gentler tone, ‘Put Riley on, please, Arlo. I’ll tell him it’s for his safety and no other reason. I’m glad you’re okay and I’m so sorry you’ve lost the office.’

  ‘Thanks, Deb.’

  Arlo handed the phone to his glowering son.

  ***

  After breakfast Arlo walked to the scene of the crime knowing he’d be accosted by reporters eager for his views on why he was a target. In the dismal morning light the sight was even more depressing. Blackened window frames dripped water, smoke trails streaked the previously white-painted outer walls and shattered glass covered the footpath. Police tape cordoned off the walkway from the edge of Hannah’s side wall to Arlo’s neighbour on the far side of his driveway.

  Two media vans were parked in the gutter opposite but no-one was in sight. Probably looking for breakfast and coffee. A chilly wind made standing about unpleasant along with a hint of more rain. It hadn’t deterred a bunch of kids from having a good look. Jack was there with the dog. He waved.

  ‘Hi, Arlo.’

  Arlo raised his hand but didn’t stop to talk.

  A couple of locals stood chatting a few houses along, Doc Jensen one of them. He nodded in greeting. Arlo walked across. Doc’s surgery was diagonally opposite but Doc lived a few houses along. The woman with him was slightly deaf but otherwise unimpaired, Enid Thorne, whose family had lived in the area for four generations. In her mid-eighties Enid still wielded a racquet on the tennis courts in summer and rode her horse in the show.

  ‘How are you? How’s the boy?’ Doc gave Arlo a searching look.

  ‘We’re okay.’

  ‘Bit of a shock to us all.’

  ‘Even I heard that bang,’ said Enid. ‘I thought it was a cannon.’

  ‘A cannon?’ Arlo glanced at Doc with a half-smile.

  ‘This is no good, you know,’ she said. ‘I was just saying to Doc, this is our town and we’re law-abiding and friendly. Always have been. We don’t go round blowing up our neighbours’ houses. This is an outsider’s doing and I told that reporter lady exactly that.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ said Arlo.

  ‘We didn’t tell her where you live now even though she asked. That’s none of her business. I told her you’ve a right to your opinion and just because you write something in the paper some people may not like that’s no reason to try to blow you up. People here know that, that’s why it’s not a local who did it. It makes me so angry I could spit chips.’

  ‘I agree with Enid,’ said Doc. ‘This is an attack on all of us. The paper is ours as much as yours and we’re all proud of it.’

  ‘That’s right,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks, Doc. Thanks, Enid.’ An unexpected surge of emotion clogged his throat.

  Doc clapped him on the shoulder. ‘No worries. I’d better get to work.’

  ‘Me too. Have to feed the horse. I told those kids not to go blabbing either.’ Enid strode away.

  Arlo turned to look at the ruined shopfront. The sign over the door had, surprisingly, survived. A touch of paint and a wipe down and it would be as before. The office itself was another matter. The building may not even be structurally sound. He’d have to set up shop at the house and he needed to call Georgia.

  The group of kids broke up and wandered away. Jack came across and said, ‘Was it a terrorist bomb?’

  ‘No. We don’t know who did it but I can guarantee it wasn’t a terrorist and it won’t happen to anyone else in town, so don’t worry about that.’

  A small group of strangers came round the corner with takeaway coffee. Media.

  ‘I’ll walk with you for a bit.’ Arlo crossed the road with Jack and sauntered along, hands in pockets keeping his face averted while Jack nattered on about how the dog had rolled in some horse poo and come inside and sat on his mum’s good shoes she’d left in the living room.

  ‘You should have heard Mum when she was chasing him outside,’ he said. ‘Trouble was he took one of the shoes with him and she had to chase him round the yard. He thought it was a game. Dad laughed so much we thought he was going to have a heart attack. He reckoned the dog was turning blue from her language.’

  Back home, Arlo checked flights to Sydney from Wagga and then realised he had no car to transport Riley to the airport until his was cleared by the investigators. The battery would be easily replaced but he may not have the car back until Monday. He couldn’t borrow Mia’s. Maybe Georgia’s?

  Somehow Georgia had missed last night’s excitement and was completely staggered by the news. ‘I’ll be over right away,’ she said. ‘But I’ll have Charlotte with me.’

  ‘That’s fine. See you soon.’

  Arlo switched on the TV to the station belonging to one of the two vans. A weekend morning show was on with a feature on guide dogs. He muted the sound and flicked to the other one, the ABC. A business program—but as he watched a worm ran across the bottom of the screen. Blast destroys regional newspaper office.

  He checked his online news feeds. A similar headline came through on several sites. All reported that editor Arlo McGuinness was unharmed but unavailable for comment. A couple had hastily prepared columns on his background and one referenced the tragic deaths of two Taylor’s Bend locals less than a year earlier. With a little more time and perhaps some strategic prompting those reporters might be interested in connecting the dots when looking for a motive for the blast. The perpetrators may have just shot themselves in the foot. Losing the office was a small price to pay if it meant spotlights would be focused on the murky corners of the Greenhill and Willoughby Council relationship, and a murderer brought to justice.

  When Georgia arrived they’d concoct a press release hinting that the recent road maintenance story had stirred up more than local sentiment.

  Someone knocked on the door. Riley got up from his spot on the couch but Arlo waved him back. He had a quick peek through the curtains and saw Betty with a large takeaway container in her hands. In typical fashion she didn’t linger but gave him the container and said, ‘This is for you and your boy after that terrible thing to happen. It makes us very angry.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s very kind, Betty.’

  Arlo closed the door and took the gift to the kitchen.

  ‘What’s that?’ Riley peered over his shoulder.

  ‘Chinese food from Betty next door.’

  ‘Cool!’

  ‘Totally. And very kind.’

  ‘Yeah.’
He unclipped the lid and sniffed. ‘Chicken something. Yum.’

  ‘Get your fingers out of it. That’s our dinner. I’ll put it in the esky.’ Arlo put the lid back in place.

  Georgia arrived next with laptop, bulging briefcase, a carry bag of toys and her tiny daughter.

  ‘Hi, Riley. You okay?’

  ‘Yeah, except they’re sending me back to Sydney.’

  ‘I don’t blame them,’ she said. ‘No way would I put Charlotte in the way of some maniac who blows things up.’

  ‘Can I borrow your car to take Riley to the airport? Mine is in lockdown until the investigators finish.’

  ‘Sure, just say when.’

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He turned to Riley. ‘You’d better pack a bag. Bit more than overnight, matey.’

  Riley groaned.

  ‘Charlotte will help, won’t you, sweetie pie?’ said Georgia.

  ‘Okay. Come on, Charlie, let’s find a suitcase.’

  For the next couple of hours Arlo and Georgia discussed how to proceed, with occasional interruptions from Charlotte. The next issue would necessarily be smaller and some of their contributors would need to be contacted to resend their items but there was no thought of stopping publication.

  ‘I’m getting a lot of calls and texts from the media, but I’m not answering,’ Arlo said. ‘So far they haven’t figured out where we are but it won’t take long. In fact I’m surprised no-one’s turned up here.’

  ‘The locals won’t tell the press where you live. You’re part of this town and they’ll close ranks.’

  ‘We need to write a statement. I want to make sure reporters can connect last week’s articles to the blast.’

  ‘Won’t they already?’

  ‘Some might, others won’t bother. We’re not very important in the grand scheme of things. I’ve contacted some colleagues who I know will want to look into the Greenhill link to Peter Stine.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll try again?’

  ‘It’s possible which is why I’m sending Riley to his mother.’

  ‘What about me?’ For the first time it occurred to Arlo Georgia might be frightened, not for herself but for Charlotte.

  ‘You could stay with your mum and Rupe,’ he suggested. ‘But given your relationship to the local police it seems unlikely they’d want to draw that sort of attention. It’s me they want to shut up.’

  ‘I guess. Okay.’ She smiled. ‘Bet you never thought we’d be dealing with this sort of stuff.’

  Arlo’s phone buzzed with a message. He checked the ID.

  ‘It’s Mia,’ he said.

  That Joel guy is here

  Chapter 21

  Mia saw the man before he saw her. On the point of stepping out of the hotel to look at the damage in the light of day she saw him across the street, and hastily drew back into the doorway. Dressed differently today, in jeans and a parka he looked like a local and she almost didn’t take notice of him but something about his walk and the solid build, caught her eye. Then to her surprise, Lucian Farage approached along the footpath, stopped shook hands, spoke and the two men turned and walked back the way Joel had come.

  She backtracked to reception and asked Meg at the desk if Mr Carmody was staying again. He wasn’t. Mr Farage? No. She sent a hasty text to Arlo but then regretted it—what was he supposed to do? He had enough problems at the moment. This was something she could deal with herself. Was it coincidental they would be here again when Arlo’s office was blown up?

  After the late night she’d slept in, so the street was busy with the usual Saturday morning shoppers. Keeping a wary eye on the passers-by in case Carmody and Farage were hovering about, Mia walked across to Hannah’s for what was now brunch and found the café buzzing with the news.

  Renee served her.

  ‘I guess you already know about Arlo’s office,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, it woke me up and I went out to see. It’s terrible.’

  ‘Reporters have been in and out all morning, asking questions and buying coffee by the truckload.’

  ‘What are people saying?’

  ‘No-one knows who would do something like that, everyone likes Arlo. Rupe and the firemen say it wasn’t a terrorist attack but you never know. Those people are crazy. It couldn’t be a local. No way.’

  ‘Why not? Someone threw paint on my car and I’ve been abused in the street twice.’ Why did these people assume everyone in this town was kind, forgiving and generous?

  ‘That’s terrible but it’s different, isn’t it?’ Renee’s expression morphed into a defensive blankness.

  ‘Is it? Maybe Arlo wrote something someone didn’t like,’ Mia said.

  ‘It’s a pretty extreme reaction. Everyone agreed with him about the road and the council and even the article about Tony wasn’t …’ She stopped, a red flush rising in her cheeks. ‘Sorry, I forgot he was your father.’

  ‘That’s okay. I know how people feel about him.’

  ‘But even so, no-one here would blow up Arlo’s office over that.’

  ‘Maybe not.’

  After eating, Mia walked around the corner. A crowd had gathered to stare at the blackened building. Crime scene tape cordoned off the front but a white van was parked in the gutter with another police car behind it. An unfamiliar constable stood guard. One media van was parked across the road and a woman was talking to the camera.

  Mia stood in the midst of the group scanning the figures around her. No sign of Carmody and Farage. The building was a stark and sorry sight in daylight. Arlo wouldn’t be able to move back in for months.

  ‘Mia?’

  Glenda’s mother, Lorraine, stood beside her, pale faced, bundled up in a warm coat, pale blue knitted scarf and matching felt hat which must have come from the witch’s handicraft shop.

  ‘Hello, Lorraine. How are you and Paul?’

  ‘We’re managing. Are you?’

  Mia nodded. ‘Hanging in there but my car was vandalised the other night, amongst other things.’

  ‘I heard about that. I wanted you to know we’re sorry about the way you’ve been treated since you came here. I know you’re only doing what’s necessary.’

  ‘Yes. It’s been difficult.’

  ‘For us all.’ Lorraine gestured towards the building. ‘This is awful. Who could have done it?’

  ‘Someone Arlo upset, I imagine.’

  Lorraine looked at her, the astonishment clear from the raised eyebrows and widened eyes.

  ‘You can’t think we had anything to do with it. I know Graham was responsible for what happened earlier … the rabbit. That was an awful, stupid thing to do and we appreciate that you didn’t involve the police any more than you did.’

  How conveniently she airbrushed the facts. None of her family had apologised or contacted Mia in any way to make amends. And what about the piece on her father? What did they think of that? Arlo hadn’t mentioned anything about their reaction. Maybe they’d decided to stay quiet after the rabbit incident.

  ‘I don’t think you’d go as far as this, no. But someone obviously did.’

  Lorraine nodded, turned away then back. ‘Paul and I very were surprised by what Arlo wrote … accusing the police of not investigating properly is a bit much. He can make all those assumptions but he doesn’t really know what happened, does he?’

  ‘Not yet, no. But you have to admit blowing up the office means someone is upset about his assumptions.’

  ‘The two things may not be connected at all. I’m sorry for your loss, Mia,’ she said stiffly.

  Before Mia could react she’d gone, threading her way through the crowd.

  The reporter and cameraman were moving amongst the onlookers asking questions. Time to go. Mia eased her way towards the street and turned in the direction of the house. Before she reached the end of the block she glanced back. Carmody was following her, alone now, hands thrust in pockets, rapidly closing the gap between them.


  Mia hesitated, checked for traffic then crossed to the other side of the street, heading for Laurie’s store instead of Arlo’s. By the time she’d walked the extra distance he was almost level and he entered the store at the same time.

  ‘Hello, love,’ said Dot. ‘Terrible goings-on last night. We didn’t hear a thing from up here but everyone’s been talking.’ She looked over Mia’s shoulder at Carmody who was studying the array of magazines. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ he said easily and resumed his perusal.

  Dot raised her eyebrows meaningfully at Mia but what that meaning was, she wasn’t sure. ‘What about you, love? How about some of that chocolate you like so much.’

  Mia smiled. ‘That’s why I’m here. I’ll take the dark almond this time.’

  ‘Good choice. I like the dark chocolate myself. They say it’s good for you so we can’t go wrong, can we?’

  Mia made her purchase, said her goodbyes and opened the door. He followed a few seconds later, empty handed. She turned abruptly.

  ‘Why are you following me?’

  ‘I didn’t think I was.’ There was that unpleasant smile that wasn’t a smile.

  ‘It feels like it to me.’

  ‘I apologise if I frightened you.’

  ‘You didn’t frighten me, you annoyed me.’

  ‘Would it help if I went ahead of you?’

  ‘Whatever you want.’ Patronising so and so.

  Mia began walking. She wouldn’t go to see Arlo, she’d go back to the hotel and have a coffee in the bar with her book. Make life really interesting for her stalker. She deliberately didn’t turn around but after the first block, while she waited at the intersection for a car to pass, he continued on the other side of the street. He didn’t glance her way.

  What was he up to? Her phone pinged. Arlo.

  Fridge has landed!

  She sent: Best news for days. C followed me to Dot’s but denied it when I confronted him

  Arlo: Come here?

  Mia: Best not. Riley OK?

  Arlo: Yes. Leaving tomorrow. Come with to Wagga?

  Mia: OK. Time?