140871101X

by Jane Harper

  The woman could see her own fear reflected in the three faces staring back at her. Her heartbeat thumped and she could hear the others’ rapid breathing. Overhead, the pocket of sky carved out by the trees was a dull grey. The wind shook the branches, sending a shower of water down on the group below. No-one flinched. Behind them, the rotten wood of the cabin groaned and settled.

  ‘We have to get out of here. Now,’ the woman said.

  The pair on her left nodded immediately, united for once by their panic, their eyes wide and dark. On her right, the briefest hesitation, then a third nod.

  ‘What about –’

  ‘What about what?’

  ‘. . . What about Alice?’

  An awful hush. The only sound was the creak and rustle as the trees watched down over their tight circle of four.

  ‘Alice brought this on herself.’

  Chapter 3

  When Falk and Carmen stopped after a couple of hours, the sky was fully light and the city lay far behind them. They stood by the side of the road and stretched as the clouds threw shifting shadows across the paddocks. The houses and buildings were few and far between. A truck carrying farming supplies roared past, the first vehicle they had seen for thirty kilometres. The noise startled a flock of galahs, sending them scattering from a nearby tree, flapping and screaming.

  ‘Let’s keep moving,’ Falk said. He took the keys from Carmen and climbed behind the wheel of her battered maroon sedan. He started the engine. It felt instantly familiar. ‘I used to have a car like this.’

  ‘But you had the sense to get rid of it?’ Carmen settled into the passenger’s seat.

  ‘Not by choice. It got damaged earlier this year, back in my hometown. A welcome-home gesture from a couple of the locals.’

  She glanced over, a tiny smile. ‘Oh, yeah. I heard about that. Damaged is one way to put it, I suppose.’

  Falk ran his hand over the steering wheel with a pang of regret. His new car was okay, but it wasn’t the same.

  ‘This is Jamie’s car anyway,’ Carmen said as he pulled away. ‘Better for longer distances than mine.’

  ‘Right. How is Jamie?’

  ‘Fine. Same as usual.’

  Falk didn’t really know what the usual was. He had met Carmen’s fiancé only once. A muscular guy in jeans and a t-shirt, Jamie worked in marketing for a sports nutrition drink company. He’d shaken Falk’s hand and given him a bottle of something blue and fizzy that promised to enhance his performance. The man’s smile seemed genuine, but there was a touch of something else in it as he took in Falk’s tall thin frame, his pale skin, his white-blond hair and his burned hand. If Falk had had to guess, he’d have said it was mild relief.

  Falk’s mobile beeped from the centre console. He took his eyes off the empty road to glance at the screen and handed it to Carmen. ‘That sergeant’s sent an email through.’

  Carmen opened the message. ‘All right, he says there were two groups on the retreat. One men’s group, one women’s, both doing separate routes. He’s sent the names of the women in Alice Russell’s party.’

  ‘Both groups from BaileyTennants?’

  ‘Looks like it.’ Carmen took out her own phone and opened the BaileyTennants website. Falk could see the boutique accountancy firm’s black and silver lettering on the screen out of the corner of his eye.

  ‘Okay. Breanna McKenzie and Bethany McKenzie,’ she read out loud from his phone. ‘Breanna is Alice’s assistant, isn’t she?’ Carmen tapped her screen. ‘Yep, here she is. God, she looks like she could advertise vitamins.’

  She held out her phone and Falk glanced at the beaming staff headshot of a girl in her mid-twenties. He could see what Carmen meant. Even in unflattering office light, Breanna McKenzie had the healthy glow of someone who jogged each morning, practised yoga with intent and deep-conditioned her glossy black ponytail religiously every Sunday.

  Carmen took her phone back and tapped. ‘Nothing’s coming up about the other one. Bethany. Sisters, do you think?’

  ‘Possibly.’ Perhaps twins even, Falk thought. Breanna and Bethany. Bree ’n’ Beth. He rolled the sounds over his tongue. They sounded like a pair.

  ‘We can find out what the deal is with her,’ Carmen said. ‘Next is Lauren Shaw.’

  ‘We’ve come across her, haven’t we?’ Falk said. ‘Middle management something?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s – Christ, that’s right, strategic head of forward planning.’ Carmen held out her phone again. ‘Whatever that means.’

  Whatever it was, Lauren’s thin face gave nothing away. It was hard to estimate her age but Falk guessed mid-to-late forties. Her hair was a medium shade of brown and her light-grey eyes gazed straight into the camera, expression as neutral as a passport photo.

  Carmen turned back to the list of names. ‘Huh.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It says Jill Bailey was out there with them.’

  ‘Really?’ Falk kept his eyes on the road but the bead of worry that had been lodged in his chest since the previous night pulsed and grew.

  Carmen didn’t bother pulling up Jill’s photo. They were both familiar with the chairwoman’s heavyset features. She was turning fifty that year and, despite her expensive clothes and haircuts, looked every day of it.

  ‘Jill Bailey,’ Carmen said, scrolling further through the sergeant’s message. Her thumb stilled. ‘Shit. And her brother was in the men’s group.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yep, Daniel Bailey, chief executive. It’s here in black and white.’

  ‘I don’t like that at all,’ he said.

  ‘No. I don’t like any of it.’

  Carmen clicked her fingernails lightly on the phone as she thought. ‘All right. We don’t know enough to form any conclusions,’ she said eventually. ‘That voicemail is completely without context. In every sense – realistically, statistically – it’s most likely that Alice Russell has come off a trail by mistake and got lost.’

  ‘Yeah, that is most likely,’ Falk said. He thought neither of them sounded convinced.

  They drove on, the radio stations dwindling to nothing as the scenery whipped by. Carmen fiddled with the knob until she found a crackly AM wavelength. The news on the hour faded in and out. The Melbourne hiker was still missing. The road gently swung to the north and suddenly Falk could see the hills of the Giralang Ranges on the horizon.

  ‘Have you ever been out here?’ he said, and Carmen shook her head.

  ‘No. You?’

  ‘No.’ He hadn’t but he had grown up in a place not unlike it. Isolated terrain, where trees grew thick and dense on land that was reluctant to let anything escape.

  ‘The history around here puts me off,’ Carmen went on. ‘I know it’s silly, but . . .’ She shrugged.

  ‘Whatever happened to Martin Kovac in the end?’ Falk said. ‘Is he still locked up?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Carmen tapped at her phone screen again. ‘No. He’s dead. Died in jail three years ago, aged sixty-two. Actually, that rings a bell, now I think about it. He got into a fight with an inmate, hit his head on the ground and didn’t wake up again, it says here. It’s hard to feel too sorry about that.’

  Falk agreed. The first body had been that of a twenty-something trainee teacher from Melbourne, enjoying a weekend of fresh air in the ranges. A group of campers had found her, days too late. The zipper on her shorts had been wrenched apart, and her pack with hiking supplies was missing. She was barefoot, and her shoelaces were tight around her neck.

  It had taken two more women’s bodies, and another reported missing, over the next three years before transient labourer Martin Kovac’s name was first mentioned in connection with the murders. By then the damage was well and truly done. A long and lasting shadow had been cast over the tranquil Giralang Ranges, and Falk was part of a whole generation that had grown up feeling a shiver when they heard the name.

  ‘Kovac died without confessing to attacking those three women, apparently,’ Carmen
said, reading from her phone. ‘Or that fourth one who was never found. Sarah Sondenberg. That was a sad one. She was only eighteen. Do you remember her parents doing those appeals on TV?’

  Falk did. Two decades on and he could still picture the desperation in her parents’ eyes.

  Carmen tried scrolling down, then gave a sigh. ‘Sorry, it’s freezing up. The signal’s going.’

  Falk wasn’t surprised. The trees along the side of the road cast shadows that blocked the morning light. ‘I guess we’re heading out of range.’

  They didn’t speak again until they left the main road. Carmen pulled out the map and navigated as the track narrowed and the hills loomed large in the windscreen. They passed a short row of shops selling postcards and hiking equipment. It was bookended by a small supermarket and a lonely service station.

  Falk checked the fuel gauge and put on the indicator. They both got out while he filled up, yawning, the early start beginning to catch up with them. It felt colder here and the air had a bite. He left Carmen stretching her back with a groan and went in to pay.

  The man behind the counter was wearing a beanie and week-old stubble. He stood up a little straighter as Falk approached.

  ‘Headed into the park?’ He spoke with the haste of a bloke starved of conversation.

  ‘We are.’

  ‘Looking for that missing woman?’

  Falk blinked. ‘Yes, actually.’

  ‘Had heaps of people come through for her. They called in the searchers. Must’ve had twenty people fill up yesterday. Rush hour all day. No better today.’ He shook his head in disbelief.

  Falk discreetly glanced around. Their car was the only one on the forecourt. There were no other customers in the shop.

  ‘Hopefully they’ll pick her up quickly,’ the man went on. ‘Bad business, that, when someone goes missing. Bad for business as well. Scares people off. Too much of a reminder, I reckon.’ He didn’t elaborate. There was no need to mention Kovac, Falk supposed, not around there.

  ‘Have you heard any update?’ Falk said.

  ‘Nah. Don’t think they’ve had any luck, though, because I haven’t seen them come out. And I get them both ways. In and out. Nearest servo’s over fifty kilometres away. Further if you go north. Everyone fills up here. Just in case, you know? Something about being in there makes them want to be on the safe side.’ He shrugged. ‘Silver lining for us, I suppose.’

  ‘You lived out here long?’

  ‘Long enough.’

  As Falk handed over his credit card, he noticed the small red light of a security camera behind the counter.

  ‘Are there cameras on the pumps?’ Falk said, and the guy followed his gaze outside. Carmen was leaning against the car, her eyes closed and her face tilted upwards.

  ‘Yeah, course.’ The guy’s eyes lingered a beat longer than necessary before he dragged them back. ‘No choice. I’m on me own here most of the time. Can’t risk the drive-offs.’

  ‘Did the missing woman come through with her group on their way in?’ Falk said.

  ‘Yep. On Thursday. The cops already took a copy of the recording.’

  Falk pulled out his ID. ‘Any chance of another one?’

  The guy looked at it, then shrugged. ‘Give me a minute.’

  He disappeared into a back office. Falk looked out through the glass front doors while he waited. Beyond the forecourt, he could see nothing but a wall of green. The hills hid the sky. He suddenly felt very surrounded. He jumped as the man re-emerged with a memory stick in his hand.

  ‘Past seven days,’ the guy said, handing it over.

  ‘Thanks, mate. That’s appreciated.’

  ‘No worries, hope it helps. You wouldn’t want to be lost out there for too long. It’s the panic that gets you. Everything starts to look the same after a few days, makes it hard to trust what you’re seeing.’ He glanced outside. ‘Drives ’em wild.’

  Day 1: Thursday Afternoon

  The windscreen was lightly spotting with rain as the minivan drew to a halt. The driver killed the engine and swivelled around in his seat.

  ‘This is it, guys.’

  Nine heads turned to the windows.

  ‘I’m only getting out if we go left, not right,’ a male voice called from the back seat, and the others laughed.

  To the left, a guest lodge sat snug and warm, its wooden walls standing strong against the chill. Light spilled out of the windows and beyond, a neat row of accommodation cabins beckoned.

  To the right lay a muddy track, marked with a weather-beaten sign. Gum trees knitted overhead to form a rough archway and the path meandered drunkenly before careering sharply into the bushland and disappearing.

  ‘Sorry, mate, it’s a right turn for everyone today.’ The driver swung open the minivan door, sending in an icy blast. One by one, the passengers began to move.

  Bree McKenzie undid her seatbelt and climbed out, dodging a large puddle at the last second. She turned with a warning, but Alice was already stepping down. The woman’s blonde hair blew across her face, blinding her as one expensive boot plunged into the water.

  ‘Shit.’ Alice swept her hair behind her ears and looked down. ‘Good start.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Bree said automatically. ‘Has it soaked through?’

  Alice examined her boot. ‘No. I think I got away with it.’ A beat, then she smiled and moved on. Bree gave a silent sigh of relief.

  She shivered, zipping her jacket right up to her neck. The air was crisp with the scent of damp eucalyptus, and as she looked around she could see the gravel carpark was mostly empty. Off season, she guessed. She walked to the back of the van where the backpacks were being unloaded. They looked heavier than she remembered.

  Lauren Shaw was already there, her tall thin frame hunched over, easing her bag out from the bottom of the pile.

  ‘Do you need a hand?’ Bree didn’t know Lauren as well as she knew some of the other senior staff, but she knew how to make herself useful.

  ‘No, it’s fine –’

  ‘I don’t mind –’ Bree reached for the bag as Lauren dragged it free. There was an awkward tussle as they both pulled in a different direction.

  ‘I think I’ve got it. Thank you.’ Lauren’s eyes were the same cool grey as the sky, but she gave Bree a small smile. ‘Do you need help –?’

  ‘God, no.’ Bree waved a hand. ‘I’m good. Thanks.’ She glanced up. The clouds seemed to be growing heavier. ‘Hopefully the weather holds out for us.’

  ‘The forecast says it won’t.’

  ‘Oh. Well, still. I suppose you never know.’

  ‘No.’ Lauren seemed almost amused by Bree’s optimism. ‘No. I suppose you never do.’ She seemed about to say something more when Alice called her name. Lauren looked over and hoisted her pack onto her shoulders. ‘Excuse me.’

  She crunched away over the gravel towards Alice, leaving Bree alone with the bags. Bree dragged her backpack free and tried to lift it, staggering a little under the unfamiliar weight.

  ‘You’ll get used to it.’

  Bree looked up to find the driver grinning at her. He’d introduced himself when they’d climbed into the van in Melbourne, but she hadn’t bothered remembering his name. Now she looked properly, he was younger than she’d first thought, probably around her age or a few years older. No more than thirty, anyway, with the knotted hands and knuckles of a climber. He was thin but looked strong with it. His red fleece had Executive Adventures embroidered on the breast, but no name tag. She couldn’t decide if he was attractive or not.

  ‘Make sure it’s fitted properly.’ The man took the pack from her and helped her lace her arms through the straps. ‘That’ll help a lot.’

  His long fingers adjusted the clips and buckles until suddenly the pack felt not light exactly, but lighter. Bree opened her mouth to thank him when the tang of cigarette smoke cut through the damp air. They both turned towards it. Bree already knew what she would see.

  Bethany McKenzie stood some way from the gr
oup, her shoulders hunched. One hand shielded a cigarette from the wind, the other was shoved in the pocket of her coat. She had dozed in the van on the drive up, head lolling against the window, and had woken looking embarrassed.

  The driver cleared his throat. ‘There’s no smoking here.’

  Beth paused mid-drag. ‘We’re outside.’

  ‘We’re within the lodge grounds. It’s a smoke-free zone all around here.’

  Beth looked mutinous for a minute, then, seeing all eyes turned her way, shrugged and stubbed the cigarette out with her boot. She wrapped her coat around herself. It was an old one, Bree knew, and it didn’t quite fit anymore.

  The driver turned his attention back to Bree with a conspiratorial smile. ‘You worked with her long?’

  ‘Six months,’ Bree said. ‘But I’ve known her forever. She’s my sister.’

  The man looked from Bree to Beth and back again in surprise, as she’d known he would. ‘You two?’

  Bree tilted her head a little and ran a hand along her dark ponytail. ‘Twins actually. Identical,’ she added, because she thought she’d enjoy the look on his face. He didn’t disappoint. He opened his mouth when there was a distant crack of thunder. Everyone looked up.

  ‘Sorry.’ The driver grinned. ‘I’d better get a move on so you can set off. Give you enough time to reach the site before dark. The only thing worse than a wet campsite is a rushed wet campsite.’

  He hauled out the last of the backpacks and turned to Jill Bailey, who was struggling to thread her thick arm through the shoulder strap of her pack. Bree stepped forward to help, taking the weight of the pack while she scrabbled.

  ‘Do you want to make a start?’ the driver said to Jill. ‘I can get you ladies on your way. Or would you rather wait until everyone’s arrived?’

  With an effort, Jill thrust her arm through and breathed out sharply, her face red with exertion. She glanced down the approach road. It was empty. She frowned.

  ‘With a car like Daniel’s, he should have beaten us here,’ one of the men said to polite laughter.

  Jill gave her thin corporate smile but didn’t say anything. Daniel Bailey was her brother, but he was still the chief executive. Bree supposed he was allowed to be late.