by Jane Harper
‘He pays your salary, Beth. He’s allowed to be.’
With that, Bree had rolled over, leaving Beth to stare at the canvas and long for a cigarette or, preferably, something stronger.
She stretched now, as the sky grew lighter, and was no longer able to ignore the ache in her bladder. She looked for the tree they’d earmarked in the dark as their makeshift toilet area. There it was. A short way from the clearing, behind the tents. The one with the broken branch.
Beth tramped over, careful where she put her feet. She didn’t know much about the local wildlife, other than there were probably a heap of things out here that she wasn’t keen to step on. Behind her, there was movement in the campsite. The rustle of a tent zipper, followed by low voices. Someone else was up.
At the tree she stopped. Was this it? It looked different in the daylight, but she thought it was right. There was that broken branch at head height. And if she concentrated, she thought she could detect the faint whiff of urine.
As she stood there, she heard voices float over from the campsite. They were speaking softly but she could still recognise them. Jill and Alice.
‘You did have a bit to drink last night. Not just you, all of us –’
‘No, Jill, it’s not the booze. I just don’t feel well. I need to go back.’
‘We’d all have to go back with you.’
‘I can find my way alone –’
‘I can’t let you walk back by yourself. No, listen to me – there’s a duty of care, for one thing. We’d all have to go.’
Alice didn’t reply.
‘And the company still has to pay so we’d forfeit the cost of the course for all five of us. Which obviously isn’t important if you’re unwell.’ Jill let the disclaimer hang in the air. ‘But we’d need a doctor’s letter for the insurance so if it’s a case of one too many wines –’
‘Jill –’
‘Or a rough first night in the tent. Believe me, I know this isn’t anyone’s cup of tea –’
‘It’s not –’
‘And we can’t get driven back to Melbourne until Sunday anyway, so as a senior team member it would be far better –’
‘Yeah.’ A sigh. ‘All right.’
‘You’re well enough go on?’
A pause. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Good.’
The wind rattled the branches above Beth’s head, dislodging a shower of water from the leaves. An icy drop ran down her neck and, instantly decided, she pulled down her jeans and squatted behind the tree. Her knees started to ache immediately and she could feel the cold on her thighs. She shifted her boot to miss the flow along the ground when she heard fast footfall behind her. Startled, she turned, toppling backwards with a bump. Her bare skin hit the ground, cold and warm and wet at the same time.
‘Jesus Christ. Really? Right by the tents?’
Beth blinked up against the bright grey sky, her jeans around her knees, her palm in something warm. Alice stared back down. Her face was pale and tight. Maybe she really was ill, Beth thought vaguely.
‘If you’re too bloody lazy to walk out to where we agreed, at least have the manners to do it near your tent and not mine.’
‘I thought –’ Beth clambered to her feet, hauling up her jeans. Tight and twisted, they betrayed her with every tug. ‘Sorry, I thought –’ She was standing now, thank God, a single warm trickle damp against her inner thigh. ‘I thought this was the right tree.’
‘This one? It’s barely a couple of metres from the tents.’
Beth risked a glance. It was more than a couple of metres, wasn’t it? It had seemed more in the dark but it looked at least five.
‘And it’s not even downhill.’
‘Okay. I said I was sorry.’
Beth longed to shush Alice, but it was already too late. A rustle of canvas and three heads popped up over the tents. Beth saw her sister’s eyes harden. Bree didn’t need to know exactly what she was seeing to know enough. Beth’s done it again.
‘Problem?’ Jill called.
‘No. It’s under control.’ Alice straightened. ‘That’s the right tree.’ She pointed at a spot in the distance. Not a broken branch in sight.
Beth turned to the three faces at the tents. ‘Sorry. I thought – I’m sorry.’
‘You see the one I mean?’ Alice said, still pointing.
‘Yeah, I can see it. Look, I’m sor–’
‘It’s all right, Beth,’ Jill called, cutting her off. ‘And thank you, Alice. I think we’re all familiar with the tree now.’
Alice kept her eyes on Beth, then slowly lowered her arm. Beth didn’t look at any of the others as she trudged back to the clearing, her face hot. Her sister stood at their tent entrance, not speaking, the whites of her eyes bloodshot. She was hungover, Beth could tell, and Breanna didn’t do hungover well.
Beth ducked inside, zipping the door shut. She could smell the urine on her only pair of jeans and felt a tight ball burning behind her eyes. She squeezed them closed and made herself stay completely still, like they had taught her in the rehab centre. Deep breaths and positive thoughts until the urge passed. In and out.
As she counted her breaths, focusing her mind, she imagined inviting the other women to stand with her in a circle. The image was clear and Beth could picture herself extending a hand to Alice. In and out. Beth imagined herself reaching up, stretching out her fingers and winding them through Alice’s blonde highlights. In and out. Tightening her grip and pulling the woman’s expensive face towards the ground. Grinding it into the dirt until she thrashed and squealed. In and out. When she reached one hundred, Beth breathed out a final time and smiled to herself. Her counsellor had been right. Visualising what she wanted really did make her feel a lot better.
Chapter 7
It was a relief to exit the Mirror Falls trail. Falk took a deep breath as the sky opened and the trees parted. Up ahead, light spilled from the windows of the lodge, its glow not quite reaching the dark undergrowth of the path. He and Carmen followed Chase across the carpark, feeling the gravel crunch under their boots. As they neared the lodge, Falk felt Carmen tap his arm.
‘Two for one over there,’ she whispered.
Daniel Bailey was standing beside his black BMW with a woman Falk instantly recognised. His sister, Jill. Even from that distance, Falk could see the stain of a bruise across her jaw, and he remembered what Sergeant King had said. Some injuries. Jill hadn’t had that bruise in the group photo from the first day, that was for sure.
Now, she was face to face with her brother and they were arguing. The frozen-muscled, tight-lipped argument of people conditioned not to make a public scene.
Jill was leaning in as she spoke. She jerked her hand towards the bushland then immediately away. He responded with a single shake of the head. Jill tried again, leaning in closer. Daniel Bailey looked past her, over her shoulder. Avoiding her eye. Another shake of the head. I said no.
Jill stared at him, her face impassive, then without another word, turned and walked up the steps and into the lodge. Bailey leaned against his car and watched until she disappeared. He shook his head and his gaze landed on Ian Chase in his red Executive Adventures fleece. He looked embarrassed for a moment at having been caught arguing but swiftly recovered.
‘Hey!’ Bailey raised an arm, his voice ringing across the carpark. ‘Any news?’
They walked over. It was the first chance Falk had had to see Daniel Bailey up close. His mouth was set firm and there was definite tension around his eyes, but he still managed to look younger than his forty-seven years. He also looked a lot like the photos Falk had seen of his father, who was still on the board and a firm fixture in the company brochure. Daniel was less bent and wrinkled than Leo Bailey, but the resemblance was clear.
Bailey looked over at Falk and Carmen with polite interest. Falk waited, but could detect no visible spark of recognition in his eyes. He felt a small stirring of relief. That was something, at least.
‘Nothing new to te
ll you, I’m afraid,’ Chase said. ‘Not yet anyway.’
Bailey shook his head. ‘For Christ’s sake, they said they’d have her back today.’
‘Hoped to have her today.’
‘Would more funds help? I’ve said we’ll pay. They know that, don’t they?’
‘It’s not the money. It’s everything else.’ Chase glanced at the bushland. ‘You know what it’s like in there.’
Before they’d left the search site, Sergeant King had unfolded a grid map and shown Falk and Carmen the areas to be combed through. It took about four hours to properly search one square kilometre, he’d said. And that was in medium-density bushland. Longer if the terrain was thick or steep or had a water crossing. Falk had started to count the number of squares. He’d given up when he’d hit twenty.
‘Have they searched the north-west ridge yet?’ Bailey said.
‘It’s inaccessible this year. And too dangerous in this weather.’
‘All the more reason to check it, no? It’s easy to get off track around there.’
There was something about the way Bailey was demanding answers that rang a little hollow.
Falk cleared his throat. ‘This must be very difficult for you and your staff. Do you know the missing woman well?’
Bailey looked at him properly for the first time, both a frown and a question in his eyes. ‘Are you –?’
‘They’re police,’ Chase said. ‘Helping out with the search.’
‘Oh, right. Good. Thank you.’ Bailey held out a hand, introduced himself. His palm was cold, and the tips of his fingers were calloused. Not the hand of a man who spent all of his time stuck behind a desk. Bailey obviously got out and about in some form or another.
‘So you do know her well?’ Falk repeated as they shook.
‘Alice?’ Bailey’s frown deepened. ‘Yes. Quite well. She’s worked with us for four years –’
Five, actually, Falk thought.
‘– so she’s a valued team member. I mean, they all are, of course. But for her to drop off the radar like this –’ Bailey shook his head. ‘It’s very worrying.’ He sounded like he meant it.
‘You didn’t see Alice Russell before she set off with her group on Thursday, is that right?’ Carmen asked.
‘No. I arrived late. I’d been held up. I missed the group bus.’
‘May I ask why?’
Bailey looked at her. ‘It was a private family matter.’
‘I guess heading up a family firm you’re never really off the clock.’ Carmen’s voice was light.
‘No, that’s true.’ Bailey managed a tight smile. ‘I do try to keep some sort of separation though, where possible. You’d go mad otherwise. This was unavoidable, unfortunately. I apologised to the other team members. It wasn’t ideal, obviously, but it only set us back about an hour. It made no real difference in the end.’
‘Your team didn’t have any trouble reaching the meeting spot on time?’ Falk said.
‘No. It’s challenging terrain, but the routes themselves aren’t overly difficult. Or they’re not supposed to be, anyway.’ Bailey glanced at Chase, who dropped his eyes.
‘It sounds like you know the area?’ Falk said.
‘A bit. I’ve done a couple of hiking weekends here. And we’ve run winter corporate retreats here with Executive Adventures for the last three years,’ Bailey said. ‘It’s a great spot. Usually. But not the kind of place where you want to stay lost for long.’
‘And you’ve always come on the retreats?’
‘It’s the best excuse I have to get out of the office.’ Bailey started to form an automatic smile, then caught himself halfway, leaving his face locked in an unfortunate grimace. ‘We’ve always found the retreats to be very good and generally well organised. We’ve always been pleased, until –’ He broke off. ‘Well, until now.’
Chase continued to stare at the ground.
‘You did see Alice Russell during the retreat, though,’ Falk said.
Bailey blinked. ‘On the first night, you mean?’
‘Was there any other time?’
‘No.’ His reply was almost too quick. ‘Only that first night. It was a social call between camps.’
‘Whose idea was that?’
‘Mine. It’s good for us to connect in a different space from the office. We’re all one company. All in the same boat.’
‘And you spoke to Alice Russell then?’ Falk watched Bailey closely.
‘Briefly, at the start, but we weren’t there for long. We left when it started to rain.’
‘What did you talk about?’
Bailey furrowed his brow. ‘Nothing, really. General office chat.’
‘Even on a social visit?’ Carmen said.
A tiny smile. ‘Like you say, I’m never really off the clock.’
‘And how did she seem to you that night?’
A beat. ‘She seemed fine. But we didn’t speak for long.’
‘You didn’t have any concerns about her?’ Falk said.
‘Like what?’
‘Anything. Her health, her mental state? Her ability to complete the course?’
‘If I had any doubts about Alice, or any of our employees,’ Bailey said, ‘I would do something about it.’
Somewhere, deep in the bush, a bird called, sharp and shrill. He frowned and glanced at his watch.
‘I’m sorry. Look, thanks for your help with the search, but I’m going to have to make a move. I want to drive up to the site in time for the night briefing.’
Chase shifted his weight. ‘I’m going up there myself. Do you want a lift?’
Bailey patted the roof of his BMW. ‘I’m good, thanks.’
He fished out his keys and with another round of handshakes and a brief wave was gone, invisible behind the tinted glass as the car drove away.
Chase watched him leave, then looked somewhat forlornly at the Executive Adventures minibus hulking in the corner of the carpark.
‘I’d better get up there myself. I’ll let you know if there’s any update,’ he said, and trudged off, keys in hand. Falk and Carmen found themselves alone once more.
‘I’d love to know why Bailey was late getting up here,’ Carmen said. ‘Do you believe it was a family issue?’
‘I don’t know,’ Falk said. ‘BaileyTennants is a family firm. That could cover pretty much anything.’
‘Yeah. Although, I have to say, if I owned a car like his, I’d have missed the bus too.’
They walked over to their own sedan, parked in the far corner. Grit and leaves had collected in the crevices, and flew up in a haze as they opened the boot. Falk pulled out his battered backpack and hoisted it onto his shoulder.
‘I thought you said you weren’t into hiking,’ Carmen said.
‘I’m not.’
‘You should tell your bag. It looks like it’s on its last legs.’
‘Oh. Yeah. It’s been pretty well used. Not by me, though.’ Falk said no more, but Carmen was looking at him expectantly. He sighed. ‘It used to be my dad’s.’
‘That’s nice. He gave it to you?’
‘Kind of. He died. So I took it.’
‘Oh. Shit. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay. He doesn’t need it anymore. Come on.’
Falk turned before she could say anything further and they walked across the carpark into the lodge reception area. It was like a furnace compared with the outside, and he felt the sweat prickle on his skin. The same ranger as before was behind the welcome desk. He checked the list of rooms reserved for police and searchers and handed them each a key.
‘Back out the way you came, follow the walkway round to the left,’ he said. ‘You’re at the end of the row, next to each other.’
‘Thanks.’
They headed out and around the side of the lodge until they came to a long, sturdy, wooden hut. It had been split into individual cabins with a shared porch stretching along the front. Falk could hear the tap of rain start against the tin roof as they walked alon
g. Their rooms were right at the end, as promised.
‘Regroup in twenty minutes?’ Carmen said, and disappeared through her door.
Inside, Falk’s room was small but surprisingly cosy. A bed took up most of the space, with a wardrobe crammed into one corner and a door leading to a tiny ensuite. Falk shrugged off his coat and checked his mobile. No signal here either.
He propped his backpack – his dad’s backpack – against the wall. It looked tatty against the clean white paintwork. Falk wasn’t quite sure why he’d brought it. He had other bags he could have used. He’d found it at the very back of his wardrobe while he was digging out his hiking boots. He’d almost forgotten it was there. Almost, but not quite. Falk had pulled the bag out, then sat on the floor for a long time in his quiet flat, looking at it.
He hadn’t been fully honest with Carmen. He hadn’t so much taken the bag when his dad died seven years earlier as been handed it by a specialist cancer nurse at the hospice. It had been light, but not empty, containing Erik Falk’s final few possessions.
It had taken Falk a long time to go through the bag and even longer to donate or otherwise dispose of the belongings inside. In the end, he’d been left with only the bag and three other items. Two photos and a separate large, worn envelope. The envelope was creased and tired around the edges and had never been sealed.
Now, Falk opened the top pocket of the backpack and pulled it out. The envelope was even more battered than he remembered. He spread the contents across the bed. Contours, gradients, shadings and symbols lay in front of him. Peaks and valleys and bushland and beachfront. Nature’s best, all there on paper.
As Falk’s fingers ran over the maps, he felt almost dizzy from the surge of familiarity. There were more than two dozen. Some were old, and some better used than others, their paper thin and well examined. His dad had corrected them, of course. He knew best. Thought he knew best, anyway. Erik Falk’s handwriting looped and curved across the routes of the state’s major hiking regions. Observations he’d made each time he’d tied up his boots, hoisted the bag on his back and left the city behind him with a grateful sigh.
It had been a very long time since Falk had looked at the pages. And he’d never been able to bring himself to examine them closely. He shuffled through the maps now until he found the one he was searching for: Giralang Ranges and the surrounds. It was an older one and was yellowed at the corners. The folds were fragile and fuzzy.
