‘I am the press,’ said Arlo drily.
‘In that case you know exactly what I mean,’ she said tartly. ‘Think of the exclusive you’ll get when this is over. Keep it to yourself.’
She looked at Arlo sternly until he nodded.
When she and her offsider had left, Mia said, ‘Have you eaten?’
‘Not really. You?’
‘I had soup at Hannah’s. I was amazed. The people there were really supportive and friendly.’
He smiled. ‘I told you that’s what they’re usually like here.’
‘Not to me they weren’t. I had to be nearly killed first.’
His smile dropped away and he stared at the floor, jaw clenched.
‘It’s not your fault,’ she said gently. ‘It’s not. Look at me, Arlo.’ She touched light fingers under his chin and turned his face to hers.
‘You’re not responsible for that man’s actions. You actually saved us because you fought to keep us on the road. I doubt I could’ve done it.’
He gazed deep into her eyes for a long moment. She smiled and leaned forward to kiss him softly. ‘It’s true,’ she whispered.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’ A tiny smile appeared. ‘I’m sure you could have kept us on the road too.’
She deposited another kiss and got up quickly before he could turn it into something more. ‘What have you got in the kitchen in the way of food?’
Arlo’s phone rang. Someone had retrieved it from the wreckage.
‘Hi, Dad.’
‘Hi. How are you?’
‘Fine but I’d rather be there with you.’
‘Did you tell the school I wouldn’t be there this week?’
Christ! ‘No, I forgot. Did they call you?’
‘They called Mum when you didn’t answer. Are you okay?’
Sort of.’ Arlo sat down and told Riley the events of the night.
‘My God. Like before.’
‘He was trying to kill us this time. It’s a good thing you’re safe at your mum’s, matey.’
‘Did they catch him?’
‘He went over the edge instead. Drowned.’
‘Oh. That’s … pretty bad.’
‘Yes. You’d better stay put for a while, just until we know this is really finished. The police are all over it now and they’ll be investigating everything so nothing else should happen, but you never know.’
‘Okay, but as soon as I can I want to come back. You promised and so did Mum.’
‘I know and you will. I miss you.’
He glanced up to catch Mia smiling at him, eavesdropping. ‘Say hello from me,’ she said.
Chapter 23
Mia collected her immaculately restored car from Stuey on Tuesday afternoon.
‘Did they find the mongrel who did it?’ he asked.
‘Not that I’ve heard,’ she said.
‘Shouldn’t be too hard for them to track down that paint but I s’pose they’ve got the bombing and the accident to deal with now.’
‘Yes, by comparison this wasn’t anything much. Rupe said it could take weeks to get the test results back.’
‘Bloody nuisance but.’
‘Stuey, do you know Lucian Farage?’
‘Yeah. Poor bloke lost his family. They’re in the local cemetery and he comes on their birthdays to pay his respects. We leave him to it. Not anyone’s business.’ She took that as a mild warning.
‘I wanted to thank him properly for helping us but he’s gone. Do you know where he lives? Where he’s from?’
‘I think it’s Orange or somewhere out that way.’
‘Okay. Thanks, Stuey. You’ve done a great job on the car.’
***
Far from leaving the investigation to DS McGrath, Arlo was busily writing the story as he saw it so far. Information had come in from his connections in regard to the financial dealings of Peter Stine but the missing link was his connection to the construction company owned by his nephews the Baran brothers. That there was one he was positive and to find it DS McGrath needed to get a forensic accountant on the job.
He tried several times to contact Barry Greenberg and left messages in the hope Barry might return his call even if he ignored the police. He phoned the number on the glossy brochure but only succeeded in reaching another recorded message.
Phoning Carl was his next attempt but Carl knew nothing of Barry’s whereabouts and had had no contact for a couple of days. After ringing Paul and Lorraine on the off chance he might appear there, and getting the same response, he began to wonder if Barry had done a runner. Or worse, been disposed of.
He phoned DS McGrath for an update. ‘We’ve had no luck, either,’ she said after ticking him off for interfering.
‘I was returning his call,’ Arlo said innocently. ‘He phoned me, remember?’
‘Okay, but to save you any more trouble, he isn’t answering the door at his home and his ex-wife hasn’t seen him for months.’
‘If he’s cleared out you need to find him because if he does know too much you won’t be the only ones after him.’
‘I’ll be in touch.’ She hung up.
Arlo smiled to himself.
He called Georgia and after filling her in sent her to take photos of the crash site.
‘The next issue’s going to look like a battlefield report,’ she said.
Someone knocked briskly. The hair on his neck prickled. He peeked through the curtain and relaxed when he saw Mia’s car in the driveway, clean and sparkling in the sunlight. He let her in with the sudden sinking realisation that she was coming to say goodbye. There was no reason now for her to stay. They’d achieved what she wanted, albeit incompletely. The events around her father’s death were under intense scrutiny and it would be only a matter of time before the case split open like a rotten piece of fruit, to reveal the maggots and decay inside.
Her lips brushed his cheek. ‘How are you? You’re looking much better.’
‘I am,’ he said.
She didn’t take off her coat, just stood in the hallway looking everywhere but at him.
‘You’re leaving, aren’t you?’
‘I have to. I’ll go in the morning.’ She looked at him then.
‘But you still have the dream.’
‘Yes, but maybe now the police are involved again it will stop. I don’t feel so helpless and I can handle it better.’
He nodded. She didn’t need him anymore.
‘But there’s something I want to do first and I want you to come with me.’
‘When. Now?’
‘Can you?’
‘I’ll get my coat.’
She drove through town and turned onto the Jindalee road.
‘Where are we going?’
‘The cemetery. I found out about Lucian Farage,’ she said. ‘I asked Hannah. Everyone knows him but he’s before your time and they don’t talk about him. Odd isn’t it, when this town is so full of gossip? People let him be out of respect.’
Arlo frowned. ‘Respect for what?’
‘I’ll show you.’
She made the turn and a little farther along the cemetery appeared on the right. She pulled into the small parking area and got out.
‘Gosh, I’ve no idea where the graves will be.’
‘Who are we looking for and when were they buried?’ The grass was sopping wet and unmown. ‘We should have worn gumboots.’
‘Farage and it was six years ago.’
‘The most recent section is over there.’ He pointed to the right. ‘And the older graves are up the slope. The ones with the view.’
Mia walked to the right. Arlo followed. ‘Take a row each and tell me what we’re doing.’
She told him Lucian’s story and when she’d finished he said, ‘What a tragedy.’
Mia reached the end of her row and turned. Arlo walked to the next one scanning the headstones. Some were elaborate, some simple stone markers, some completely unmarked apart from the outline. Several had flowers ei
ther dying or plastic and almost all were grey and weathered.
‘Here.’ Arlo stopped and read aloud. ‘Antoinette Marie Farage, beloved daughter of Lucian and Camille. Never forgotten. She was six.’
Mia came to stand beside him. ‘Emily Frances Farage. Four years old.’ Her voice broke in a sob, Arlo put his arm around her and hugged her close.
‘Camille. Precious love. Never forgotten. Forty-one. Way too young,’ he said. ‘Younger than I am.’
‘Look at the dates. Stuey said Lucian comes on their birthdays. Camille is a couple of weeks ago and Emily was last Saturday. Antoinette is the end of October. That’s when Dad and Glenda died. And I thought he was involved …’
‘Thought but never accused,’ Arlo said gently. ‘He didn’t know what you were thinking.’
‘No, but does that change anything? I thought it and I was totally wrong.’
‘You were under a lot of strain. That dream was driving you nuts, you were wound tight as a piano wire.’ He jogged her softly. ‘Come on, let’s go. My feet are wet.’
As they walked Mia said, ‘It explains what he meant when he said, “I felt I needed to help.”’
‘Yes.’
She heaved a deep sigh.
The drive back home was silent. Mia parked in Arlo’s driveway.
‘Coming in?’
She hesitated and he said, hoping it didn’t sound pitiful, ‘It’s okay. Go.’
‘Arlo, I … I’m no good at this. Saying goodbye. If I come in … well … I don’t know what would happen. But if something did we’d regret it.’
‘Would we? I wouldn’t. I want to spend as much time with you as I possibly can.’ All the time left in his life. The realisation came like a thunderbolt. He’d have to fight for her. For them. How?
‘So do I but I’d rather make a clean break. It’s hard enough as it is without drawing it out.’
‘Why is it hard?’ He ran his fingers down her cheek and she leaned into his touch like a cat.
‘You know why.’
He pulled her towards him and kissed her. ‘Come in, Mia.’
She shook her head. ‘If I do, what will happen? I don’t mean tonight, I mean tomorrow and the next day and the next.’
‘We’ll work it out.’
‘I can’t live like that, Arlo. I’m organised, I plan. I have a job I like, a life I like. Apart from you there’s nothing here for me. Your life is in this town. I don’t want to love you from a distance until it fizzles out into a fond memory. A holiday romance.’ She stopped and a little smile lit her eyes. ‘Without the holiday part.’
‘I love you.’
The statement hung in the air between them.
‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘And I love you.’
His heart danced with the words, held them close, locked them away.
‘Stay.’
‘Leave,’ she countered but it wasn’t a demand it was a forlorn request and they both knew it.
‘Goodbye, Mia.’
He opened the door and got out quickly. She reversed onto the street and drove back into her life, out of his.
Inside, he changed his wet shoes and socks, focusing on the mundane task, blocking the hurt.
His phone rang while he was pouring a glass of wine in the kitchen and contemplating a lonely meal for one.
‘Hi, boss, how are you?’ Georgia. ‘I have an idea for the paper when we get back to normal.’
He listened to her but could barely raise the energy to comment when she asked, ‘What do you think?’
‘Great,’ he said. ‘Sounds good.’
‘Did you listen?’
‘Of course, I did. My head’s aching a bit though, sorry.’ It was true now he wrenched his mind away from the attack on his heart. A dull pain spread through the area around the bump.
‘Oh right. Sorry.’ More subdued now. ‘I wanted to tell you before I forgot the details.’
‘That’s okay. It’s a good idea, Georgia, I’m glad you’re thinking because I’m a bit sidetracked at the moment.’
‘Sidetracked? Good God, Arlo, you’ve been fire bombed and nearly killed. I went out to the bridge for the photos. It’s terrifying what could have happened to you. And did happen to that poor bloke, even if he was a murdering bastard. The river’s right up and full of branches and crap. Don’t worry about the next issue, I’ll do all the layout and get the regular stuff ready for printing. All you need to do is write up the two main pieces.’
‘Thanks, you’re a champ.’
‘That’s me.’ She laughed and hung up.
Slightly cheered he made himself an omelette and ate it watching the TV news. Surprisingly the accident rated a tiny snippet but had no accompanying images.
‘A man died in a tragic accident on a rural road when two cars collided on a narrow bridge just outside the small NSW town of Taylor’s Bend on Sunday night. The occupants of the other car, a local man and a woman, were treated for minor injuries at Wagga Hospital. The bridge featured recently in the local paper as a dangerous spot due to the large potholes on the approach. Council neglect was blamed for the deterioration of the surface.’
Arlo smiled. No way would the council be ducking and weaving its way out of this. He’d told DS McGrath to visit Ed Woodridge at the hospice, knowing he’d be more than happy to make this final gesture in the name of justice. From there the trail would be clear and she would have far more clout in getting the right people to answer questions than he did.
The following weeks dragged by with a myriad things to deal with. The insurance company that handled his car insurance was surprisingly efficient and not only paid the agreed value of his car which, admittedly wasn’t a great amount, but also came good with the hire car element of his cover which he’d forgotten he had.
The building insurance was more complicated and had to be approved by their investigator in case he’d blown up his own office. He ground his teeth at the delay but understood that having moved out the same day as the place was bombed could look timely to a suspicious mind. Anyone with half a brain would also think it was too timely and no-one bent on claiming the insurance would be so stupid. Even a cursory glance at the newspaper books would show the income was growing at a very satisfactory rate. He didn’t need the money.
Working from home hadn’t been a problem and Georgia had produced the battlefield issue, as they’d come to call it, with ease. Every copy had disappeared from the outlets by lunchtime prompting Georgia to suggest they increase the print run next time.
‘Don’t count on this type of exposure every time,’ he said. ‘We’ll be back to the footy, the school sports day and the MaDS review next time.’
‘It’s a pity Mia’s gone,’ she said. ‘People are very sympathetic towards her now. And fancy Barry nicking off like that. What a loser.’
‘He was scared for his life and I don’t blame him,’ Arlo said.
‘I guess. Why didn’t he go to the police?’
‘Panic?’
DS McGrath dropped in a few days later. She sat in the living room drinking tea, eating the shortbread his neighbour Vanessa had brought over, and looking more relaxed than he’d seen her. She had good cause, the case was progressing rapidly. Barry had been tracked to Auckland, having fled to Sydney and taken the first flight to New Zealand, as soon as news of the accident filtered through.
‘His sister lives there,’ she said. ‘He thought it would give him breathing space to decide what to do next. They would have caught up to him though, sooner or later. Either way he couldn’t come back here. Better we caught him or he’d be dead.’
‘Did he tell you what was going on?’
‘He’s co-operating. He doesn’t know a lot but he did start to become suspicious after Tony died. Because we called it suicide it was easier for him to accept that and carry on but it made him a bit uneasy, he said. Don’t know whether I believe that or not. He’s a smarmy type, has his eye out for number one, that’s for sure, so unless something happened to really
shove the facts in his face he was happy to go ahead as normal and pocket the money.’
‘What money?’
‘He had a nice salary from Greenhill. His was for being a director but what our analysts found was that he wasn’t the only director listed. The others were fake. It’s a complex trail through all sorts of shell companies and subsidiaries but they did find one link that they think will crack the connection to Stine.’
‘Great!’
‘And there’s the man who died in the accident. Joel Carmody. He has a record of battery, assault with a deadly weapon, making threats and intimidation. He’s a nasty character. We found a petrol can similar to the one that went through your office window in the back of his vehicle.’
‘Do you think he could have murdered Tony and Glenda?’
‘We’re looking into it, reopening the case. I doubt he could have pulled it off by himself. By all accounts he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box and if you’re right about murder, he’d need someone to plan it and help carry it out.’
Arlo nodded. ‘Does Mia know?’ Saying her name brought the familiar stab of longing.
‘I phoned her yesterday,’ she said. ‘What made you start poking into it in the first place? The suicide verdict was handed down a long time ago.’
‘Mia.’ Why hadn’t she told him herself? She must have been thrilled and relieved. ‘She came here to finalise the estate. This house. She wanted help. Since her father’s funeral she’d had a recurring dream—a nightmare really—about walking up to a knock on the front door, looking forward to going in to see her family again, and then hearing a volley of gunshots. She’s frightened and runs to hide behind a car in the street. Then she wakes up.’
‘And that made you start asking questions?’ She raised her eyebrows sceptically as a little smile played on her lips.
‘That’s the benefit of being a reporter and not a cop,’ he said. ‘I can do whatever catches my interest.’
‘Is it this house?’
‘No. There’s a stained glass panel in the door.’
‘Whose house is it?’
‘She doesn’t know but it’s a dream, all sorts of things get muddled in.’
‘Does she still have the dream now that we’re investigating the deaths as murder?’
A Light in the Dark (Taylor's Bend, #3) Page 26
