Sapphire Falls

by Fleur McDonald

  ‘I’ve been talking to my brother,’ she answered. ‘I really think that’s all I need. Everyone else is being incredibly supportive and helpful. Honestly, I’m doing okay.’

  As she said that she had a vision of herself swimming underwater, trying to get away. If she kept moving and didn’t stop, she wouldn’t have to think.

  If she didn’t have to think, then she couldn’t drown.

  ‘I can’t tell you what’s happened here,’ Jo said, running her fingers over her face. She had her phone out and was taking photos of the insects running over the leaves of the crop. ‘My first thought was that Damien hadn’t used the correct rate of chemical in the tank mix. But I’ve spoken with him, and he’s one hundred per cent sure he mixed it correctly. I’ve got no reason to doubt him—after all, he’s a contract sprayer.’

  Fiona let the cool wind tease her hair, whipping it around her face as she stood in the paddock and watched Jo, who seemed tired and not herself.

  ‘And he keeps notes of what he sprays, the mix he’s used and everything else. I don’t think it’s his mistake.’

  ‘What about the chemical? Could it have been faulty?’

  Jo shook her head. ‘I’ve already been onto our rep. He’s asked the company to test the product—the chemical companies keep samples of every batch they make, so it’s easy enough to go back and check. We’ve got the batch number of what you used from your invoice, but I doubt that’s the issue.’

  ‘Jo, I don’t have the money to spray again.’

  Her friend straightened up and dusted her hands off on the back of her jeans. ‘What do you mean?’

  Fiona explained the phone call from the bank, how she’d taken out extra money but that it wasn’t going to be enough. Then she told her about the conversation with the bank manager this morning.

  ‘That’s just plain stupid,’ Jo huffed. ‘Get onto Leigh. He’ll sort it for you.’

  ‘No. I’ll sort this myself.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m not going to rely on anyone.’

  ‘Don’t you feel with everything that’s going on, that this is getting too hard?’

  Fiona stared out across the crop. ‘Not too hard, but very draining. I’m tired.’

  ‘Well, you need to respray this crop. There’s no other way around it.’

  Fiona tapped her foot, thinking. ‘Okay, I’ll ring the manager of the merch store and see if he’ll give me a sixty-day account.’

  ‘I can organise that for you, if you want. In fact there’s every chance the deferred payment option for chemical is still running.’

  ‘Nah, leave it with me.’ She ran her hands over the tops of the plants and felt the moisture on her hands. ‘I still don’t understand what’s happened here.’

  ‘Come on, let’s go back to the shed and have a look at the containers there.’

  They climbed into Fiona’s ute and headed back home. Fiona looked at Jo out of the corner of her eye, trying to see if there were any bruises that hadn’t been there last time.

  ‘Hey, did you hear about Leigh and Ray Newell?’ Jo asked, pulling the ends of her sleeves into her hand and holding them with her fingers.

  ‘Are you cold?’ Fiona upped the heating, hoping that was all it was. The weather bureau hadn’t been wrong about the temperature dropping in the lead-up to the cold front. ‘And no, what have they been up to now?’

  ‘Ray took a swing at Leigh in the pub the other night. Got him, too.’

  They bumped across a small creek with a tiny trickle of water flowing through it. Tree trunks were surrounded by bark and leaves that had washed up the last time water had flowed through. Meita had enjoyed the previous little flood, too—she’d bounced through the shallow water, barking at the splashing she was making. The coldness never seemed to bother her.

  ‘Shit, really?’

  ‘Hmm, sounded like it got pretty heated and nasty. Ian was talking about it in the office.’

  ‘Did Leigh belt him back?’ Fiona wanted to know. ‘You’d think the two of them would be over this by now, wouldn’t you? I can’t work out why Ray Newell is such a dick.’

  ‘No point in trying to work it out. The fact is, he just is. No, Leigh was the righteous mayor he should be! But he gave the footy-club boys a bit of a mouthful about choosing their leaders wisely.’ She rubbed her thighs as if she was trying to warm up her hands and looked out the window. ‘Hey! What’s that?’ Jo pointed to the sky.

  Fiona squinted and rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, that again. It’s a drone. I’m not sure what the neighbours are doing with it, but I’ve seen it quite a few times in the last couple of weeks.’ She pulled up at the shed and turned off the engine.

  ‘But there’re laws about them—you can’t just fly them over people’s properties. You should call them up and ask what they’re up to.’

  ‘I don’t think it ever crosses the boundary,’ Fiona said, opening her door and getting out. Now that her stomach was brushing the steering wheel, she found it was easier to swing her legs out and wiggle herself to the ground, rather than hoist herself out as she’d done in the past.

  They walked into the shed and Jo went straight to the chemical-storage room to look at the drums. Fiona slowly followed.

  ‘So what’s going on with you? You’re looking really tired and distracted,’ Fiona remarked, settling herself down on a chair. ‘And you sounded really out of it when I rang you earlier.’

  ‘Busy as,’ Jo answered, unscrewing one of the lids and sniffing the container. ‘Everyone wants a piece of me at the moment. It’s just the way it is this time of the year.’

  Fiona didn’t say anything. She didn’t believe her. Jo was behaving like she was nervous. Ill at ease. There was definitely something more than just being tired going on. She picked at the edge of her jacket sleeve, which was beginning to fray.

  ‘Shit,’ she heard Jo say.

  ‘What?’

  Jo ignored her and unscrewed another lid and smelled it. ‘Have you washed any of these out?’ she asked, grabbing the next one.

  ‘No. I’ve been staying away from the chemicals. Damien might have.’ She went to take the drum out of Jo’s hand, but she’d already put it on the ground and picked up the next one.

  ‘No, I asked when I rang him, so I knew what I was looking for. I wanted to make sure I was checking the same drums he used.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I think the chemical has been emptied out and they’ve left you with wetter in the drum. So Damien has sprayed nothing but wetter.’

  ‘But … the smell? The colour.’

  ‘No, this chemical is clear and there would have been enough smell left in there for him not to notice. He was probably wearing a face mask when he emptied it in, anyway.’

  Fiona stood up and made her way over to her, lifting up one of the containers and peering in.

  ‘So what are you saying? That someone has deliberately emptied the drum?’

  ‘Yeah. They’ve stolen the chemical by emptying it and refilling. You wouldn’t have a clue until you realised it hadn’t worked. By then, they’re long gone—probably sprayed their paddocks already.’

  ‘Stolen?’

  ‘Stolen,’ Jo confirmed.

  Chapter 24

  ‘Police are advising women to take extra care if they plan on drinking alone in the city. Details are scarce at present; however, police have informed us that during the past year, four women have been approached in bars. Monica Ferguson reports:

  ‘Adelaide police are asking for any information relating to four women who have been drugged while drinking alone at bars and pubs in the Adelaide city area. These victims were bashed and raped before being dumped in parks or alleyways in the northern suburbs. Police suspect there may be more victims who haven’t reported the attack to them and are appealing to these women to come forward. If you have any information, please call Crime Stoppers.’

  The camera panned away from the reporter and focused on an empty park before the image on the screen flashed back to the a
nchor.

  Dave switched off the TV and leaned back in his chair. He heard a knock on the door and called out for Jack to come in.

  ‘Andy rang me,’ Jack said without preamble.

  ‘Hmm, I’ve had a conversation with him recently, too. The case has just been on the news. They’re looking for more vics.’

  ‘Reckon there’ll be any?’ Jack sat down and wiggled in the hard seat until he was comfortable.

  ‘Sure to be. There’ll be plenty of women who are embarrassed and ashamed of what’s happened to them. They won’t have wanted anyone to know, so they would have snuck home, cleaned themselves up and tried to get on with life.’ Dave tapped a pen on his leg.

  ‘Andy’s got the next weekend off, away from the course, so he thinks he’s gonna head home here.’

  Dave raised his eyebrows. ‘Things were pretty different when I did the course. We were shut away for the six weeks.’ He shuffled some papers around his desk and looked at Jack. ‘So, anything crop up while you were out yesterday?’

  ‘Nope, nothing, nada, zilch. Didn’t even catch anyone speeding.’

  ‘Quiet then?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Hellooooo?’

  Dave smiled and swung around in his chair, ready to greet Kim.

  ‘Hello, my love,’ he said as she came into his office.

  ‘Hello, handsome,’ she responded, leaning down to kiss him.

  Jack cleared his throat uncomfortably and Kim broke away with a giggle.

  ‘What have you got there?’ Dave indicated the foil-covered tray she was holding. ‘It certainly smells good!’

  ‘Sausage rolls; thought you might need something to eat. Hi, Jack, how are you?

  ‘Better now,’ he said, helping himself to a roll and eating hungrily. ‘They’re bloody beautiful, Kim. Thanks.’ He licked his fingers and tried to pick up the flaky pastry that had landed on the desk.

  ‘You’re welcome. Going okay here, sweetie?’

  ‘Well,’ Dave answered, ‘I’m about to put in a request to have some fingerprints done on the guns for Eddie McDougall’s murder.’

  ‘Oh, haven’t got them in the file?’

  ‘No. The investigation has been a balls-up from go to whoa,’ Dave said, his mouth full.

  ‘Cheers, mate,’ Jack flicked a pen at him and Dave ducked.

  ‘Sorry! Not all of it, just a lot.’

  ‘Not good.’ Kim crossed her arms and looked at the desk, which was covered in photos and notes. ‘I’d better let you get back to it.’

  ‘Thanks for the sausage rolls, love.’

  ‘You’re very welcome. I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘I might be a bit late tonight. I’m going to head down to see Fiona Forrest.’

  ‘Call me,’ Kim winked and walked out of the room.

  Dave watched her go. ‘Ouch!’ He felt the sharp tip of another pen hit his head.

  ‘Pervert,’ Jack said with a grin.

  ‘You’re just jealous.’ Dave dragged his thoughts back to the investigation. ‘Right, now we have to see if there is something that would only have Charlie’s fingerprints on it so we can disregard his on the guns. That will mean taking a trip. Want to come with me?’

  ‘Sure, I’ll get the car.’

  ‘I’ll be ten minutes or so. Got to send this email and ring Fiona, make sure it’s okay.’

  ‘I’ll see you out the front.’

  Dave quickly typed an email requesting the two guns be fingerprinted. He packaged up the fingerprints he’d taken when he’d interviewed Leigh and Geoff and sent them to Adelaide to be scanned into the computer.

  Taking a deep breath, he picked up the phone and dialled Fiona’s number.

  Introducing himself, he asked if he could make an appointment to see her that day.

  ‘I’ve just started shearing today, but I can catch up with you at the yards.’

  ‘Great, I’ll see you in about an hour and a half.’

  They arrived at Charona and carefully drove in through the gate, not wanting to frighten the sheep around the shed and in the yards. Dave could see the shorn ewes with their heads down, chewing at the short pick of feed that covered the ground. In the yards, Fiona had a backpack strapped to her and she was back-lining the ones in the race.

  The outline of her protruding stomach stopped Dave in his tracks. It was confronting to see a pregnant woman working like a man. His respect for her was enormous; her tenacity and resilience were huge.

  There was another lady there Dave didn’t know, obviously trying to help but not really sure of what she was doing.

  ‘Can I help?’ he offered as he swung his legs over the wooden rails and jumped into the yards. Jack followed him.

  The older lady turned to him. ‘Stopping my daughter from doing way too much would be a start,’ she snapped.

  The tension between the two women was obvious.

  ‘Might take a raincheck on that,’ he answered with a grin. ‘This is Constable Jack Higgins, who works with me at the Barker Police Station, and I’m Dave Burrows.’

  ‘Carly, Fiona’s mother.’

  The bitter wind swept through the yards, sending a shiver down his spine, yet he could see that Fiona was sweating as she walked over to shake their hands.

  ‘Hi, Dave, Jack. No, thanks, I’m fine. I’ll just finish this race and I can talk to you.’

  He watched as she methodically ran the gun from the top of the neck down to the hips of the freshly shorn sheep. The thin blue lines were clear against the vivid white.

  ‘Hear there’s a graziers’ alert out,’ Dave commented, walking to the front of the race to open the gate. ‘Finished?’

  ‘Yep, let them go, thanks.’ Fiona shrugged off the backpack as the ewes raced through the small opening and into a bigger yard. ‘I heard about that. Need to get these girls out as quickly as I can, make sure they’ve got some feed in their stomachs and a sheltered paddock. Not ideal timing, unfortunately.’ In the other yard the lambs were waiting for the ewes, and the noise of the mums trying to find their own lambs was deafening.

  Fiona went to the fence and stood there, watching the sheep milling around, sniffing each lamb as it came up to them. When a couple of cheeky, hungry lambs went straight for an udder, the ewes gave them a quick kick and hopped away on three legs.

  ‘Look out! Not giving anything away unless it’s to their own,’ Dave said with a smile. ‘I loved watching this when I was younger.’ He breathed in the smell of lanoline and mud that was bringing back memories of his childhood and other cases he’d worked. Especially the first one he’d done over here, which had involved Gemma Sinclair and stock stealing.

  ‘Did you used to farm?’ Fiona sounded surprised.

  ‘My dad and brothers did. None of them do now though. Land prices skyrocketed and it was too good an opportunity to miss.’

  ‘They sold because of the land price?’

  ‘Oh yeah. I was the third son, so there was never room for me to stay at home and farm, even if I wanted to.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Sure would’ve. I love the country and being around farmers, but I’m not sure I’m completely cracked up for the finance side of things. The physical work I could do, no problems, but I like a pay cheque at the end of the week. Rural crime seemed to be the perfect fit for me.’

  All four turned at a call from the shearing shed.

  ‘Right to let ’em out?’ the classer called to Fiona.

  She gave the thumbs-up sign and watched as the next run of ewes ran out from under the shearing shed. Feeling invigorated without their wool, some of the ewes began to hurtle themselves towards the fence, bleating out for their lambs as they went. Some of them jumped and bucked, their eyes blinded by the light after the darkness of the shearing shed. They didn’t see the large puddle just outside the let-out pens and landed smack bang in the middle of it. The more cautious ones ran around the edge. They kept running until they realised there was a fence and skidded to a halt.

  T
hey let out another round of baaing and the yards were overcome with noise.

  Fiona laughed and yelled, ‘Anyone who thinks that a farm is quiet should turn up at shearing and lamb-marking time!’

  ‘Absolutely!’

  ‘What did you want me to do now, Fiona?’ Carly asked.

  ‘Nothing, Mum. We’ve finished until it’s time to back-line the ones that are coming out of the shed. I’ll wait until the run is finished before I start on them. Reckon a sit-down is in order. Maybe you could run down and get the mail?’

  Carly nodded and left.

  Walking over to the gate, Fiona let herself through, then opened another one that led straight out into a paddock. She gave an arm signal to Meita, who trotted around the mob and pointed them towards the gate. The ewes made a dash for it, but Fiona slowed them down with another wave of her arm and stood to the side of the gate, counting as they ran through.

  When the last one had gone through, she pulled a notepad out of her pocket and jotted down the number. Then she looked up at the sky, checking the weather. She pointed and Dave followed her line of sight.

  ‘A drone? What’s that doing?’

  ‘I have no idea, but it’s certainly up a lot. It’s in a different area to usual—mostly I’ve seen it in the north. I thought the neighbours must be learning how to check their tanks and troughs with it.’

  ‘Interesting.’ He watched it for a while, then brought his attention back to the sheep.

  Walking out into the paddock, Dave squatted down and looked at the feed. He saw the ewes run towards the trough and jump over each other, trying to get a drink.