by Jane Harper
‘But you argued with Alice?’
‘Is that what you’ve heard?’ Her eyes were hard to read in the dark. ‘We all argued with Alice. Anyone who says different is lying.’
She sounded upset and Falk let the words settle.
‘How is everything else?’ he said eventually.
A sigh. ‘All right. They might let her out tomorrow or the next day.’
Falk realised Beth was talking about her sister. ‘I meant you,’ he said. ‘Are you going okay?’
Beth blinked. ‘Oh.’ She seemed unsure how to answer. ‘Yeah. I suppose. Thanks.’
Through the window to the lounge, Falk could make out Carmen curled up in a battered armchair in the corner. She was reading something, and her hair fell loose and damp around her shoulders. Around the room, off-duty searchers were chatting or playing cards, or sitting with their eyes closed in front of the open fire. Carmen raised her head and nodded as she saw him.
‘Don’t let me keep you,’ Beth said.
Falk opened his mouth to answer but was drowned out by another crash of thunder. The sky burst lightning-white, then everything fell dark. He heard a collective murmur of surprise followed by a groan from the lodge behind him. The electricity was out.
Falk blinked as his eyes adjusted. Through the glass, the low glow of the lounge room fire threw faces into black and orange shadow. The corners of the room were invisible. He heard a movement in the doorway and Carmen appeared out of the gloom. She had something under her arm. It looked like an oversized book.
‘Hi.’ Carmen nodded at Beth, then turned to Falk. She frowned. ‘You’re wet.’
‘I got caught in the rain. Everything okay?’
‘Fine.’ She shook her head the tiniest fraction. Don’t talk here.
Beth had tucked the beer bottle out of sight and her hands were folded primly in front of her.
‘It’s pretty dark out there,’ Falk said to her. ‘Do you want us to walk you back to the cabins?’
Beth shook her head. ‘I’ll stay here for a while. I don’t mind the dark.’
‘All right. Be careful.’
He and Carmen pulled their hoods up and stepped out from the shelter of the porch. The rain stung his face. A few low-level lights glowed around the grounds, whether powered by solar or emergency generator Falk didn’t know, but it was enough to help them see their way.
Another flash of lightning lit the sky and the raindrops formed a ghostly white sheet. Through them, Falk caught a glimpse of someone running across the carpark. Ian Chase, soaking wet in his red Executive Adventures fleece. It was impossible to tell where he had come from, but from the way his hair was plastered to his skull, he had been out in the storm for a while. The sky went dark again and he vanished from sight.
Falk wiped his face and focused on the path in front of him. It was slick with water and mud, and it was a relief when they rounded the corner and were under the cabin awning. They stopped outside Carmen’s room. She had zipped the large book inside her jacket, against her chest. She pulled it out now and handed it to Falk while she searched her pockets for her key. It was a scrapbook with a laminated cover, he could see now. The corners were a little damp and on the front was a sticker with the words: Property of Giralang Lodge. Do not remove from lounge. Carmen turned in time to see him raise his eyebrows and laughed.
‘Come on, I’ve taken it fifty metres. I’m going to return it.’ Carmen opened her door and let them in, both a little breathless from the cold and the rain. ‘But first, there’s something you should see.’
Day 2: Friday Night
They argued about what to do until it grew too late to do anything.
Finally, as the sun set in the south, they walked a little way down the hill, looking for shelter. When the last of the day slipped away, they made camp where they stood. Made camp in the best way they could, at least.
They pooled their resources in a pile on the ground and stood in a five-point formation, torches out, silently observing their haul. Three tent canvasses, intact; less than a litre of water, split unevenly between five bottles; six muesli bars.
Beth looked at the meagre pile and felt the first stirrings of hunger pains. She was thirsty as well. Despite the cold and her damp clothes, she could feel the sweat from the uphill hike sticking under her arms. Her water bottle was one of the emptiest. She swallowed. Her tongue was thick in her mouth.
‘We should try to collect some rainwater overnight,’ Lauren said. She was also staring at the mostly empty bottles with a nervous look in her eyes.
‘Do you know how to do that?’ Jill’s voice had a pleading note.
‘I can try.’
‘And where are the rest of the muesli bars?’ Jill said. ‘I thought we had more.’
Beth felt rather than saw her sister’s eyes flick towards her. She didn’t look back. Get stuffed, Bree. Beth’s conscience, for once, was clear.
‘There should be at least a couple more.’ Jill’s face had taken on an unhealthy grey tinge in the torchlight and she kept blinking. Beth wasn’t sure if it was grit in her eyes or if she simply couldn’t believe her surroundings.
‘If someone has eaten them, just say.’
Beth could feel the weight of their collective gaze. She dropped her eyes and stared at the ground.
‘All right.’ Jill shook her head and turned to Alice. ‘Go and see if you can find a signal.’
Alice went, nothing to say for once. She had gone from shocked to defensive then back again, poring over the map and tapping the face of the compass. They had been walking west, she was sure of it. Her protestations had been greeted mostly with a stunned silence. It was hard to argue with the setting sun.
The group watched her walk off, her phone clutched in her hand. Jill opened her mouth like she wanted to say something else, but couldn’t think what. She kicked the tent bags with the toe of her boot. ‘See if you can work something out with these,’ she said to Lauren, then turned and followed Alice.
Beth listened as Lauren suggested ways to use the guy ropes to stretch the tent canvasses between the trees, forming a makeshift roof. Lauren tried to demonstrate, pulling the ropes one-handed as she pressed the peeling plaster against her forehead, but eventually had to give up. She stood back, her hairline a matted, bloodied mess in the torchlight as she pointed Beth and Bree to one trunk then another. Beth’s fingers grew stiff in the night air. It would have been a hard task even in daylight and she was glad for her heavy torch with the powerful beam.
At last, they were finished. The canvasses stretched between the trees, already sagging a little in the middle. It wasn’t raining, yet, but Beth thought she could feel a storm in the air. That test was still to come.
At various spots along the darkened path, Beth could see Alice appear and disappear. She stood in a blue halo of artificial light and turned in circles and reached to the sky, like a desperate dance.
Beth pulled her sleeping bag out of her pack, sighing at the damp patch at the foot end. She tried to work out the most sheltered spot but it seemed pointless. All options were crap. She lay the sleeping bag out under the nearest canvas, then stood and watched her sister mess around, debating where to lay her own bag. Normally Bree would have wanted to be as close to Alice as possible. It was interesting, Beth thought to herself, how fast the wheel could turn.
Nearby, Lauren was sitting on her pack, fiddling with the compass.
‘Is it broken?’ Beth said.
There was no reply at first, then a sigh. ‘I don’t think so. But you have to use it properly for it to work. Everyone naturally veers off course over distances. I knew Alice wasn’t checking it enough.’
Beth wrapped her arms around herself, bouncing up and down on her heels a little. She was shivering.
‘Should we try to start a fire? My lighter has dried out.’
Lauren looked over in the dark. The fresh plaster on her forehead was already coming loose. There was only one more in the first aid kit, Beth knew.
> ‘We’re not supposed to out here.’
‘Would anyone know?’
‘We would know if it got out of control.’
‘In this weather?’
She saw the shadow of Lauren’s shoulders shrug. ‘Beth, it’s above my pay grade to make decisions like that. Ask Jill.’
Beth could just make out Jill in the pinprick glow of Alice’s phone. They had gone a fair way searching for a signal. That didn’t bode well.
She popped a cigarette in her mouth and wandered away from the shelter. The tiny flame flicked up from the lighter, destroying her night vision, but she didn’t care. The familiar taste flooded her mouth as she inhaled, and for the first time in hours she felt like she could breathe properly.
Beth stood and smoked, warming her lungs, her eyes and ears slowly attuning to the night as she stared out into the bush. Beyond the grey trunks of the nearest gum trees, the darkness was absolute. She could see nothing, then felt a prickle as she realised the same would not be true the other way round. The glow from her cigarette would be obvious at the very least, and torches lit up the camp behind her. Anything out there would be able to see her as clear as day. She jumped as she heard something crack far away in the blackness. Don’t be stupid. It was an animal. Something nocturnal. And harmless. A possum, probably.
Nevertheless, she sucked in the last of her cigarette and turned back to camp. As she did, three heads looked towards her. Jill, Alice and Lauren. She could see no sign of Bree. The trio was huddled together, holding something between them. For a minute Beth thought it was the compass, but as she walked closer she realised it was not. It was a cheese sandwich covered in plastic wrap. Jill had an apple in her hand.
‘Where did you find them? Are they from lunch?’ Beth said. The rumble from her stomach was audible.
‘They were with the backpacks,’ Jill said.
‘Whose backpack?’ Beth looked at the pile. The bags lay in disarray, spewing belongings from when they had pooled their resources in the growing dark. She saw their faces and realisation dawned slow and cold. ‘Well, it wasn’t mine.’
There was no reply.
‘It wasn’t. I ate my lunch. You saw me.’
‘We didn’t,’ Alice said. ‘You were up the path having a cigarette.’
Beth stared at her in the dark. ‘Trying to put me in the doghouse won’t get you out of it, you know.’
‘Both of you, stop it,’ Jill snapped. ‘Beth, if you didn’t eat your lunch, it is technically still your lunch. But we did say we’d all pool what we had –’
‘They’re not mine. Am I not speaking English?’
‘Well. All right then.’ It was clear Jill didn’t believe her.
‘I would say if they were.’ Beth’s eyes felt hot and tight. She waited. No response. ‘They’re not.’
‘The food’s mine.’ They all turned. Bree was standing behind the group. ‘Sorry. I was over there having a pee. It’s mine. I didn’t eat it at lunch.’
Jill frowned. ‘Why didn’t you say when we unloaded our bags?’
‘I forgot. I’m sorry.’
When Beth was younger, she had truly believed in telepathy. She had gazed deep into Bree’s eyes, placed her fingers with ritualistic precision on her twin’s temples. What are you thinking? Bree had outgrown the game first. She’d never been very good at it, which Beth thought explained her lack of interest. When Bree had started batting away her fingers and refusing to maintain eye contact, Beth had taken to watching her from across the room, tuning in to the grace notes in her speech and the subtleties in her movements. Searching for clues. What are you thinking, Bree? It wasn’t really telepathy, Beth realised later, more an ability to read nuances and tics. And now, that unspoken language in which Beth had once been fluent was whispering in her ear. Bree is lying. Whatever reason she’d had for not sharing, it hadn’t been forgetfulness.
‘You don’t have to cover for her, Bree.’ Alice sounded disappointed.
‘I’m not.’ Beth could hear the wobble in her twin’s voice.
‘Nobody blames you. Don’t lie for her.’
‘I know. I’m not.’
‘Really? Because this isn’t like you.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
Even with a confession, Bree could do no wrong. Beth almost felt like laughing. Almost, but not quite, because in the dark she could hear her sister on the verge of tears. She sighed.
‘Look. Okay.’ Beth tried to sound contrite. ‘The food was mine.’
‘I knew it.’
‘Yes, Alice. You were right, well done. Sorry, Bree –’
‘It wasn’t –’ Bree tried to interject.
‘Thanks for trying to help, but it’s really okay. I’m sorry, everyone.’
It was strange, she thought. She could almost feel the palpable relief. Bree was in the right and Beth was in the wrong. The natural order restored, everyone could relax. There was nothing to see here.
‘All right,’ Jill said finally. ‘Let’s split what we have and we’ll let that be the end of it.’
‘Fine.’ Beth turned her back before she could be drawn into a discussion about sanctions or punitive portions. ‘Do whatever you want. I’m going to bed.’
She could tell they were watching as she pulled off her boots and climbed fully clothed into her sleeping bag. She burrowed down, pulling the hood over her head. It was barely warmer in than out, and the ground jabbed and prodded her through the thin material.
She could hear strains of muffled discussion as she closed her eyes. She wasn’t comfortable, but sheer exhaustion pulled her towards sleep. She was on the cusp of dropping off when she felt the gentle weight of a hand on the top of her bag.
‘Thank you.’ The voice was a whisper.
Beth didn’t respond and a moment later felt the weight disappear. She kept her eyes closed, ignoring the faint sounds of arguing, first about the food, then about a fire.
The next time she opened them, it was with a jolt. She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but it must have rained at some point. The ground around her bag was soaked and her limbs were heavy with cold.
Beth lay shivering as she listened. Had something woken her? She blinked, but her eyes were as good as blind in the dark. She could hear nothing but the rustle of man-made material around her ears as she breathed in and out. There was something in the neck of her sleeping bag and she recoiled, then prodded it with a finger. It was a wedge of cheese sandwich and a slice of apple wrapped in damp plastic. Beth couldn’t tell if it was her own fifth or her sister’s quarter. She considered not eating it, but her hunger was shouting louder than her principles. Different rules applied out there, anyway.
Beth wasn’t sure if the others had sensed it, but earlier she had felt the faintest stirrings in the atmosphere. Something base and elemental and almost primitive, where a bit of stale bread and cheese became a prize worth fighting for.
There was a movement outside her sleeping bag and Beth stiffened. She couldn’t tell what had made it – woman or wildlife. She lay still and by the time it disappeared, the word she’d been searching for had formed on the tip of her tongue, so real she could almost taste its residue. Feral.
Chapter 13
Carmen’s room was inky black. Falk handed her his torch and heard her swear softly as she stumbled her way to the window and opened the curtains. The emergency lights from the grounds were enough to give form to the furniture in the room.
‘Grab a seat,’ she said.
Like in his room, there were no chairs. Falk sat on the edge of the bed. Carmen’s room was exactly the same as his, small and sparsely furnished, but the air smelled a little different. Something pleasantly light and subtle that reminded him vaguely of summer months. He wondered if Carmen always smelled like that, or if he just hadn’t noticed before.
‘I ran into Lauren outside the lodge,’ he said.
‘Oh yes?’ Carmen passed him a towel and sat across from him, tucking her legs under herself. She pu
lled her hair across one shoulder and rubbed it dry while Falk filled her in on their conversation. About the cabin, about the argument, about Alice. Outside, the rain pounded against the window.
‘I hope Lauren’s underestimating Alice,’ Carmen said when he’d finished. ‘One of the rangers was telling me that even he would struggle out there in this weather. Assuming Alice did actually walk off of her own accord.’
Falk thought again of the voicemail. Hurt her. ‘Are you thinking something else now?’
‘I don’t know.’ Carmen pulled the scrapbook between them and turned the pages. They were filled with newspaper clippings, the edges wrinkled where the glue had dried. ‘I was flicking through this while I was waiting for you. It’s a community history for tourists.’
She found the page she wanted and turned it to face him.
‘Here. They’ve glossed over the Kovac years – not surprising – but I guess they couldn’t ignore it completely.’
Falk looked down. It was a newspaper article about Martin Kovac’s sentencing. Jailed for life, according to the headline. Falk could guess why that article had been included rather than any others. It was a full stop. A line drawn under a dark period. The article was a feature piece, recapping the investigation and the trial. Near the bottom of the page, three dead women smiled out from three photographs. Eliza. Victoria. Gail. And the fourth one, Sarah Sondenberg. Fate unknown.
Falk had seen pictures of Kovac’s victims before, but not recently and not all together like this. He sat opposite Carmen in the darkened cabin and shone his beam over each face. Blonde hair, neat features, slim. Definitely pretty. All at once, he saw what Carmen had seen.
Eliza, Victoria, Gail, Sarah.
Alice?
Falk met each of the dead women’s eyes, then he shook his head. ‘She’s too old. These four were all in their teens or twenties.’
‘Alice is too old now. But she wouldn’t have been back then. How old would she have been when this was all happening? Late teens?’ Carmen tilted the book to better see the photos, the newsprint skin ghostly grey in the torchlight. ‘They’d all be about the same age if they’d lived.’
