He bites his lip, brows furrowed.
‘He’s running.’
‘Will he be back soon?’
The boy doesn’t answer, just keeps standing there.
Sighing, I pull out my phone and prepare to wait. There are no messages. I click open my emails but there’s nothing important that needs a response. Melanie seems to have managed to ward off any raiding parties on Colcart, which is lucky because I still don’t have a strategy for my return. Perhaps my whole crusade about Grace is a diversion from not dealing with what’s happening in my own life. I suspect that’s what Amy thinks.
‘I like your car,’ the boy says.
It’s a weapon in my arsenal. A conversation starter. ‘It was my dad’s.’
‘It’s in good nick.’ There is a note of approval.
‘It needs a lot of work still.’ The standard answer.
A man jogs up the street. It’s Aaron. I breathe in because I’m not sure how this is going to go. He sees me, immediately stops, and then slowly starts to walk over. I meet him halfway along the driveway. The boy senses the tension and slinks off.
‘What are you doing here?’ Aaron asks.
‘Gavin came to see me.’
‘They weren’t Grace’s bones.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘I’m very sorry . . .’ and I hesitate, ‘. . . but I still think it needs to be investigated.’
Aaron blinks slowly, choosing his words carefully. ‘I asked about the train and the witness statement,’ he tells me. ‘Gavin said it was Jim Keaveney who picked her up and took her to the station.’
At last a name. This is progress.
‘He told you that?’
‘Said that, given the circumstances, he thought I had a right to know. Jim said Grace had been walking home and she’d been upset because of something her friend had done. Something about a boy.’ His gaze pins me to the spot. ‘A friend called Eliza Carmody.’
The guilt knocks me sideways like a freak wave.
Aaron stands there impassive as I explain that night at the beach and how I had ended up with the boy Grace liked. My words peter out quickly enough but Aaron keeps waiting to see if there is more. When it becomes clear that there isn’t, he says, ‘Gavin also told me that you work for the electricity company who caused the fire.’
I wonder if that’s how Janey found out as well. Gavin is playing dirty.
There is no point trying to massage the truth or explain it away in legal pieties. We are way past that now. ‘I’m not their employee, but I am their lawyer.’
‘And you’re working on that bushfire case against the town?’
‘Yes.’
Aaron looks at me with disgust. ‘Gavin was right. You are just here making trouble and then you’ll head back to the city and leave us to pick up the pieces. This is just a game for you.’
‘Grace was my friend,’ I say. ‘I need to know what happened to her.’
‘She’s been gone twenty years.’ Aaron’s voice is bitter. ‘It’s a bit late showing concern now.’
‘There are questions that need to be asked.’
Aaron exhales angrily. He locks his fingers behind his head and walks away from me, but I follow and keep talking.
‘The investigation needs to be formally reopened,’ I say. ‘Gavin doesn’t want to do this but if we can find more evidence it will force him to.’
‘He said he’d get the necklace looked at,’ Aaron says.
That’s not enough for me.
‘I want to go and see what Dr Adler says about the bones, what she says about the site. Grace was wearing that necklace the night she went missing. It’s the first new piece of evidence in years. There could be more up at The Castle. If we can convince her, she’ll convince them.’
‘When are you doing that?’
‘As soon as possible. First thing tomorrow probably.’
‘I’m going with you,’ he says.
‘You don’t have to.’
‘Yes, I do.’
With that he walks away.
Fifteen minutes later I unlock the door to Cabin 20 at the Ocean Breeze Motel. My belongings are still in two suitcases – I’m reluctant to reclaim this space from my father. If I make it my own, I might lose the comfort of his presence. The bed has a generous sag in the middle. There is fruit in the bowl and a cheery cloth on the table courtesy of Bridie. This is a safe place and yet I feel the prickle of watching eyes on my skin. Pushing open the screen door, I move out onto the verandah to watch the comings and goings. There is a clear view of the rest of the motel from here, which is probably the reason Dad chose it. I cannot be ambushed.
The sky is a perfect blue with an unexpectedly warm sun as if the last gasps of summer weather are spilling deep into autumn and yet the motel is quiet today. Many of the other bungalows are unoccupied. It’s not the right season for tourists but now even the stragglers are disenchanted, giving Kinsale a wide berth. Bridie has taken the afternoon off and gone into town. The occasional car drives past and keeps going. I look at the track leading up to the ridge. Jim Keaveney lives up there, the name Aaron gave me.
I sit there simmering, feeling restless. There should be something for me to do but I can’t think what so I decide to go for a run. It’s an attempt to reclaim my old fearless life and a way to avoid the imaginary prying eyes at the same time. I just want to get back to when being alone didn’t mean being scared. Jim had initiated our conversation at the nursing home. He could be perfectly happy to talk to me again.
Changing quickly into shorts, T-shirt and runners, my muscles protest as I jog past the bungalow onto the gravel. At the top of the incline, I stop and turn back, looking down at the cabins below. I can see no-one and yet it feels like I’m a specimen being observed. After a few quick breaths, I run on.
This area was unaffected by the fire so the undergrowth is thick and the trees tall. There is the snap of dried leaves under my feet and the rustle of animals passing by unseen makes me jump. All could be fuel for a future fire. The idea of this landscape turning to flame and ash pushes adrenaline into my legs and the pace becomes brisker. Within minutes there is a slick of sweat down my spine as I find a rhythm along the dusty track. Birds call to one another overhead. A kookaburra starts to laugh and it feels directed at me. Scars in the bush floor suggest the memories of other paths, long overgrown, but the main one is well used. Tyre marks have gouged divots during the wet and constant use has kept them there in the dry.
I run far enough to start panting and realise that I’ve forgotten both my phone and water bottle. Am I deliberately being reckless or just not thinking straight?
Perhaps I should turn back.
No.
A cathedral of trees surrounds me. Time slows in this green-grey world until it moves only as fast as leaves grow and I begin to walk. Bubbles of anxiety keep rising whenever I come to a corner, a twist in the track, and I cannot see what lies beyond. Then, around a bend, there is a bent metal sign that has been nailed to a tree. Trespassers will be prosecuted. The sentiment has been punctuated with bullets. Walking up to it, I stick my fingers through the rusting holes.
‘You having trouble reading?’ comes a voice.
My heart almost explodes with shock, a hand going instinctively to my chest.
Jim Keaveney is standing there, his moon-white hair glinting in the light.
‘Oh,’ I say, with a nervous laugh. ‘You frightened me.’
He takes a step closer and Bridie’s words about not wanting to mess with him come to mind.
‘Nothing to see along here,’ he says. ‘Track doesn’t lead anywhere except my place.’
‘I wasn’t trying to see anything,’ I tell him. ‘Just going for a run.’
‘Not safe to be out here. You could have an accident.’
All alone with Jim Keaveney, without the distractions of the nursing home, I realise there’s something animal-like about him with his two small dark marbles for eyes and skin sunburnt to a toughened pink shell.
>
‘Bridie knows where I was heading,’ I lie. ‘And besides, you’re here by yourself.’ I try to sound lighthearted. ‘It’s such a lovely day, seemed a shame to waste it.’
‘I know this place,’ he said. ‘Every inch of it. You can get wild dogs around here, foxes too. I hunt them.’
‘You used to go out bush with Paul Keenan,’ I say.
‘Who told you that?’ he demands, isolation and loneliness rolling off him in waves.
‘I heard you were friends. I know his brother, Donal.’
‘Showed Paul the bush once or twice but that’s all. Just being helpful.’ His voice is confident, as if he’s decided that I’m nothing to worry about.
‘Actually, you helped a friend of mine once,’ I say, trying to appear to be more relaxed than I feel. ‘A long time ago, twenty years ago. Grace Hedland.’
He frowns at the name.
‘Do you remember her?’ I ask.
‘I know who you mean.’
‘You picked her up the night she went missing.’
‘So?’ He stares at me without blinking.
‘Can you tell me about it?’
‘Why?’
‘Because you said she caught a train. I’m not sure that’s right.’
Jim takes a couple of steps towards me and it takes all my nerve not to edge back. The trees seem to huddle in closer, surrounding me.
‘I never touched a hair on that girl’s head,’ he says.
‘You know some of her belongings have been found? The police have them.’
There is a flicker in his eyes. Shock? Fear? It’s hard to tell but there is something.
‘It wasn’t me,’ he says. ‘I never hurt her.’
The tone is indignant, but his choice of words betrays him. If he didn’t hurt her, then he knows something about who did.
‘Tell me what happened, then.’
His eyes are sly now as if he is sizing me up like I’m a bird to be caught and too late I’m genuinely afraid of him.
‘Come on,’ he says at last, and he turns and walks along the track. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’
I follow at a distance, wary, because I can’t turn back now.
Through the army of green gums a barbed wire fence comes into view. Jim stops with a satisfied look on his face. I put my hands to my mouth. Hanging from it, feet trussed, noses rubbing in the dirt, are dead foxes. A wall of red fur, lean bodies and dirty muzzles. White-tipped bushy tails move with the breeze. Most of them have been shot in the head, some cleanly, some not. Jim stands there proudly, a hand outstretched.
‘Right curious, foxes. Clever too,’ says Jim. ‘The thing is they don’t belong. That’s what happens to outsiders around here.’
The message isn’t subtle but it does the trick. My mind empties of all my questions.
‘You head back now,’ he says. ‘And next time run along the beach. More people about.’
Wordlessly, I turn and start walking, aware he is standing there watching me. I wait until I’m around the corner, out of his line of sight, and then I run so fast back to the motel that my feet skid and stumble in the dirt.
24
When I see the buildings at the bottom of the hill, I slow to a jog and then a walk. The sun is hiding behind the trees and the motel is bathed in shadows. There’s a ute parked outside my cabin with a surfboard in the back. Trying to get my breath under control, I head towards it. A wet-haired Tony Bayless is sitting on the steps in front of Cabin 20, a black and tan kelpie at his feet. At the sight of me he jumps up and comes running forward.
‘Thank God you’re all right,’ he says, and to my surprise he sweeps me up in a crushing hug. I flinch at the contact, momentarily confused at his intentions and, as the panic rises, I have to steel myself to remember he is not Luke. When he steps back I see the genuine worry in his face.
‘Is everything OK?’ I ask. My thoughts spiral towards Dad or even Amy.
‘I didn’t know what to think,’ he says, and putting an arm around my shoulders, he shepherds me towards the open door of the bungalow. The dog walks beside him but stops at the doorway as if it doesn’t want to come in.
The place has been trashed, belongings dumped out of my suitcases. Dad’s magazines and books have been ripped apart. Even his clothes have been taken from the wardrobe and trampled. It is gut-wrenching, as though someone has physically attacked my father. Spray-painted across the wall in red is LEAVE TOWN BITCH.
‘I’ve already called the police,’ says Tony, and he leads me away outside again. ‘It was like that when I arrived. I started to panic when I couldn’t find you.’
The dog lifts its head, ears alert, a growl from the throat and then sirens echo in the distance.
‘Quiet, Rowdy,’ says Tony, and puts a hand down on the dog’s fur, scratching between the ears.
When Gavin gets out, he’s all business and avoids looking at me as he checks out the surrounds.
‘Did you lock the cabin before you left?’ Gavin asks.
I shake my head. It hadn’t even occurred to me.
‘None of the other bungalows were broken into, so it seems to be targeted at you. Is anything missing?’
I walk with him back into the cabin, leaving Tony waiting outside. I try to remember what I’d brought from the city. While things have been trampled and smashed, everything seems to be there until I find my handbag. The contents have been dumped on the floor. My phone has a cracked screen and money is missing from my wallet, a couple of fifty-dollar notes. Gavin asks me who might have done it.
‘No idea,’ I say.
‘You’ve obviously upset someone,’ he replies, pointing to the wall. ‘But then you seem to have a gift for that.’
‘The fact I’ve been working on the bushfire case seems to have become public knowledge,’ I say. ‘Wonder how that happened?’
He has the decency to look embarrassed.
‘I was only away from the cabin for an hour.’
‘Either they got lucky or they were watching,’ he says, which isn’t reassuring. ‘I’ll talk to Bridie before I leave. Maybe she noticed something. Pack what you need but try to minimise what you touch. We’ll get fingerprints done tomorrow. You’re staying with us tonight so I can keep an eye on you and then you can go back to the city.’
This brings back memories of being shunted off to boarding school and something in me snaps.
‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Amy’s about to have her baby and I want to spend more time with Dad.’
‘Do I need to remind you that you’re a police witness in a very high-profile case, Eliza? We can find alternative accommodation but it won’t be in Kinsale. The place is too small.’
‘There’s no rational reason for Luke to do this. Why would he return to Kinsale to trash a motel room?’
‘Really?’ says Gavin, dripping sarcasm. ‘Tyrell’s not the sort to break into a house to get someone to change their testimony?’
‘It could be about Grace. Someone wanting to stop me asking questions.’
That I am saying this to a person who has only recently demanded that I do exactly that is not lost on me, but Gavin would never ruin anything belonging to my father.
‘Any information about Grace’s necklace yet?’ I ask.
His face is grim. ‘I spoke to Dave Deasey yesterday, straight after I saw you. He denies that he was even at the site or that he gave anything like a necklace to you. He says you’re lying.’
‘And you believe him?’
Gavin doesn’t answer my question. Instead he tells me that he’ll file a report about the vandalism. ‘Duly noting that police assistance was offered in relation to accommodation and rejected.’
‘That’s all?’
‘I’ll be in touch when there’s news,’ he says, and heads back to his car.
Tony is standing there alone. ‘You OK?’ he asks.
‘I guess.’ But I’m not really. ‘What were you out here for, anyway?’
‘Was
coming back from the beach, thought I’d drop in to see you. Mum mentioned that you were still in town.’ He shuffles his foot through the dust. ‘I thought you might like to have dinner at the pub. The food’s pretty good.’ There is the start of an embarrassed smile on his face. ‘I mean not tonight after all this but maybe another time.’
I’m not quite sure but I think he’s asking me for a date.
There’s the sound of footsteps and Bridie comes running down the path towards us.
‘Just got back from shopping,’ she says. ‘Gavin told me what happened. How are you?’
‘I’m fine.’
She jumps up the steps and disappears into the room. It’s a few minutes before she comes back.
‘No real damage,’ she says. ‘Nothing that can’t be cleaned up. It was due a coat of paint anyway. It will be kids.’ Her matter-of-fact manner is comforting. ‘We’ve had a few issues over the years.’
‘Any ideas who?’
She shakes her head. ‘I’ll get my eldest to see if anything was caught on his cameras. No matter what, we’ll need to get you moved. Cabin 2 is free. You might get a bit of noise from cars but it’s right next to us. Anyone coming round will have me to deal with.’
‘I could stay over,’ Tony says. ‘If you want company?’ He blushes. ‘I mean, I can sit out the front. Just to make sure nothing happens.’
Behind his back, Bridie makes a surprised face and then gives me the thumbs up.
‘You can take Eliza for a nice drive while I get the new cabin ready for her,’ she says.
Uncertain, he turns towards me, ‘Actually, I was just going to check The Castle. Now the police have finished with it, I promised the developers I’d keep an eye on the place until work starts on site.’
‘Perfect,’ Bridie answers. ‘By the time you get back, I’ll have everything organised.’
I’m caught in a pincer movement and don’t have the energy to argue.
‘Is that all right?’ I ask Tony.
‘Of course,’ he says. He whistles for the dog before unlocking the ute.
Shooting a frown back at a smiling Bridie, I follow him over and get in. Tony starts the engine as the dog comes bounding out of the bush and springs onto the back tray.
Second Sight Page 20
