Whispers At Wongan Creek

by Juanita Kees

  ‘That’s the cost of progress.’

  ‘There’s progress, then there’s greed, mate. I’m not sure you know the difference anymore. Not when your name is on those real estate boards as the developer. You own shares in the mine, they lease your land from you to mine it, and now you’re a property developer too?’

  Was there anything the Bannister name hadn’t touched? But it wasn’t that he resented the Bannister family’s success. It was that they trampled all over everyone in their rush to get there that made him mad. The people they hurt, the lives they destroyed in the process and the shit they got away with because they could afford expensive lawyers.

  John ignored the dig. ‘Mate, I know Harry’s getting worse. His mind has gone. In a few months, he won’t remember he has a farm.’

  ‘That’s not the point.’

  ‘Good God, boy, are you that stupid? Get him to sell out now. Or are you holding out to inherit? Is that why you’re hanging on his coat tails? Can’t afford to buy it, so you’ll steal it instead?’

  Travis’ patience and tolerance hit ground zero. ‘And now I know for sure where that rumour sprouted from. Get off my land,’ he growled. ‘You’ve overstayed your welcome.’

  John stared him down. ‘I thought I could talk some sense into you, but now I see I’ll have to lay charges on Harry for assault after all.’

  ‘That sounds a lot like blackmail to me.’

  Contempt for the man rose up through Travis’ gut as he tried desperately to hang on to control, to remind himself that even if the bloke was an arsehole, John Bannister was an old man and his mother had taught him to respect his elders.

  He felt a tug at the leg of his jeans and looked down to see Casey standing next to him, looking up at him through eyes filled with fear.

  ‘Uncle Trav?’

  ‘Hey, sweet pea.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘Why don’t you go down and see how Fantasia is doing while I say goodbye to Mr Bannister?’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, but didn’t seem to want to let go.

  ‘It’s okay, I promise. I can see you from here, sweet pea. I’ll be watching out for you,’ he said gently, smoothing her curls back from her face.

  She let go and walked away slowly with a wary glance at John Bannister. The old man watched her thoughtfully for a moment before turning back to Travis, his eyes narrowed.

  Travis could almost hear the man’s mind ticking over and he knew John would be looking at Casey and thinking of her resemblance to Tracy. He prayed the old man didn’t see the resemblance to his own family and what Travis already suspected.

  ‘Cute kid. Looks just like her mother at that age. Must be hard on a bloke like you, raising someone else’s child, knowing that at any time the real father could stake his claim. You never did find out who her father was, did you? Might be worthwhile asking around. Seems a bit unfair that her real father might be missing out on watching his little girl grow up.’

  ‘Mind your own business, Bannister.’

  ‘I am,’ said John. He turned, got into his car and drove away.

  Travis watched the dust cloud kicked up by the tyres dissipate, and remembered exactly what it was he was protecting.

  Chapter 8

  Heather parked the car outside Travis’ house and admired the warm glow of light on the veranda and through the open curtains on the windows. His home had such a warm, loving feel to it. As if many Baileys had lived and loved there, leaving their stamp of approval on it for future generations.

  Travis sat in his favourite spot, bare feet up on the railing, leaning back on the couch with a beer in his hand. No apple juice tonight. Cuddled in his lap and secured by his free arm lay Casey, fast asleep with her head on his chest.

  She smiled at the picture they made and tried not to think of how lucky the little girl was to be in that position. She imagined it would be a very nice chest to be curled into like that.

  Opening the door, she got out, closed it and pressed the button on the remote control to secure it, even though she knew that out here it wasn’t necessary to lock doors.

  She felt Travis’ eyes on her and was pleased she’d taken the time to shower and change. The swirl of the cotton skirt around her legs and the hug of the matching shirt with a sweetheart neck made her feel fabulously feminine after the required drill pants and yellow shirt she needed to wear to the WCM meetings.

  She’d added a spritz of her favourite perfume for luck, even though she knew this wasn’t a date but rather a meeting at the request of a case client.

  Walking up the stairs, she watched as he sipped from the bottle. His lids fluttered shut as he drank. Long golden eyelashes that would make a girl weep with envy, cast shadows on his cheeks. And when he opened those eyes, they were empty of the light that normally shone there, replaced by sadness that went bone deep and apprehension that spoke of a fear so great it made her spine tingle.

  ‘Hi,’ she said quietly, not wanting to disturb Casey.

  ‘Hey.’

  He lowered the bottle to rest on his knee and she saw it was still almost full even though the condensation from the chill had long since dried up. A man who let his beer go warm had something serious on his mind.

  His gaze followed hers to the bottle. ‘You’re not going to have a go at me for having a beer, are you?’ His words were quiet, his tone flat and tired.

  Heather shivered. ‘No. Why would I do that?’

  ‘The last social worker we had frowned upon foster parents and guardians having a drink.’

  She sighed. ‘Are you planning on getting drunk and starting a fight? Hurting anyone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you an alcoholic? Do you have to down a drink every morning to get through the day?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nope. I allow myself a six pack every couple of weeks and only have one after Casey is taken care of. Never more than one.’

  ‘That sounds very grown up and responsible.’ Heather smiled. ‘It would be hypocritical of me to take you to task over one beer when I enjoy the odd glass of wine myself.’

  She leaned over and tucked a curl behind Casey’s ear. The little girl mumbled and snuggled closer to her uncle. His arm tightened around her and Heather knew it was a movement born out of instinct.

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ she said.

  Travis looked down at the sleeping child. ‘She is. I’d do anything for this kid.’

  Heather moved to sit beside him. ‘I know that. Is that what’s bothering you, Travis? That we’re going to take her away from you? I’m doing my best to make sure that doesn’t happen.’

  ‘I know, thank you. You might change your mind after tonight though. You might not have a choice.’

  Heather frowned, a heavy feeling settling in her stomach. She wanted to reach out and touch him, thread her fingers through his and reassure him everything would be fine, but the set of his shoulders and the closed expression he wore stopped her. She was here on professional business.

  ‘Whatever it is, Travis, we’ll work through it to find a solution that’s beneficial for Casey.’

  He nodded and shifted forward, taking Casey’s weight as he stood. ‘I’ll put her to bed then we’ll talk. Can I bring you back a drink?’

  ‘Cheers, that’ll do the trick nicely.’

  She watched as he walked away, the denim loving the sway of his hips, his back stiff and straight as he edged through the front door with his precious package in his arms.

  Patiently she waited, a sense of deja vu settling over her as she listened to the night sounds beyond the veranda once again and pondered on what Zac Bannister had said to Travis that had sparked this sudden need for an official chat.

  Her run in with the little bastard today had done enough damage to her own peace of mind. There was nothing nice about him, no redeeming qualities at all. He was mean and a bully, probably always had been.

  She dreaded the next session she had to attend on site, terrified he’d try that stunt again. The best she could do was hope John B
annister’s chat with him had worked. Even so, he was the least of her worries today.

  After lunch and a trip to the shops to pick out boots for Casey at the little girl’s request, she’d arrived home to a letter in the mailbox. The specialist at the MND research centre in Perth had acknowledged her referral and invited her to make an appointment for the DNA testing.

  Avoiding the monster in her mind seemed like a good idea because it opened up a whole new can of what-ifs she wasn’t ready to face. Being torn between wanting and not wanting to know was a crap place to be.

  Travis appeared in the doorway, flicked off the veranda light and turned on the ultra-violet bug light. ‘Stops the mozzies from making a meal of us. Zaps them before they zap us.’ He padded out onto the veranda and handed her a bottle of beer. ‘Cheers.’

  She took it and sipped, allowing the smooth taste to caress her tongue for a moment before she swallowed. ‘Cheers.’

  The sofa dipped under his weight and he leaned back with a sigh. He picked at the label with restless fingers. She let him, even though her own fingers itched to stop the motion.

  ‘You don’t have brothers and sisters, do you, Heather?’ His voice rumbled through the dark, the only glow now coming from the weird purple light in the caged contraption that sparked every time a bug landed in it.

  ‘No, I’m an only child. Mum never married and I don’t remember her even having a date before she fell ill.’

  ‘It makes me sad to think Casey will grow up the same.’

  ‘Maybe one day she’ll have cousins to keep her company.’

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe if the right girl comes along, who knows.’ He looked at her, their shoulders touching. ‘Do you want children?’

  There was that million dollar question that ripped her heart out every time. She pushed down the pain that tore at her chest. ‘Yes, I’d love to have children, but—’ Could she confide in Travis? Tell him her fears, about the life sentence over her head? No, tonight was about Travis. She had to keep it professional. Her personal life had no place in his. ‘Time will tell.’

  Time and the DNA testing she couldn’t pluck up the courage to take. If she carried the MND gene, she could never risk passing it on to her children. No, then it would be better to not have children at all. The miserable neurological disease had to end with her.

  Next to her, Travis nodded. ‘I loved my sister. My mum used to say we might as well have been born Siamese twins. We were inseparable. As babies, we were almost identical. The only way anyone could tell us apart was because Tracy didn’t have the white fringe. Even then, they’d still get confused.’ He smiled wistfully. ‘Then we reached our teens and we couldn’t fool anyone anymore.’

  ‘I bet you two got up to plenty of mischief,’ Heather teased, trying to ease his sombre mood.

  ‘Oh, we did.’ Travis laughed and took a swallow of his beer. He pulled a face and set it aside. ‘Ugh, hadn’t realised it got so warm.’

  ‘Here, share mine. I shouldn’t drink too much anyway. Not if I’m driving.’ She held out the bottle and after a moment’s hesitation he took it.

  ‘Cheers.’ He sipped and handed it back.

  As she took it, his fingers brushed hers and sweet tremors tingled through her blood. He eased down on the sofa and stretched his legs out in front of him, linking his hands over his flat stomach. Heather tried hard not to follow the movement or let her eyes linger on the areas where his jeans were almost white with wear, especially around the zipper.

  She dragged her thoughts away from the danger zone. ‘Tell me about her.’

  ‘Tracy was full of life. She loved the outdoors. She swam like a fish and climbed like a billy goat which is why the way she died still makes no sense at all.’

  Heather tucked her legs under her and leaned closer to catch his words. He’d spoken them quietly, almost to himself.

  ‘How so?’

  He turned his head to look at her, their faces close. ‘The coroner determined it was an accident. That she’d slipped, hit her head and fallen into the river. We’d had a lot of rain that year and the river was swollen. There was also speculation based on Tracy’s behaviour leading up to her drowning that it might have been an attempt at suicide.’

  Suicide? Oh God, what an awful thing for his family to face. Heather’s heart ached for Travis, for Casey. ‘You don’t think that’s what happened?’

  He shook his head. ‘Tracy and I had this weird kind of telepathic link. The one always knew when the other one was in trouble. If Tracy got hurt, I’d know it because I’d feel the same pain she did. That day I was competing in the open saddle bronc in Newman. I was waiting at the release gate when I felt a pain in my head. It felt like someone hit me in the back of the head with a rock. The pain was sharp and stabbing.’

  Heather shuddered. She couldn’t begin to imagine the horror Travis had been through, but she knew the pain of watching a loved one die.

  ‘And then I felt nothing for a moment. Nothing. Absolute silence in my head like I’d never known before. That’s when I knew something bad had happened to Tracy.’

  He reached for her hand and she let him hold it, as much for her own comfort as his. It was cold against her skin, so she leaned down to put the beer on the floor then sat back and rubbed some warmth into his fingers.

  ‘I felt myself sinking, surrounded by water, my head pounding, my eyes stinging.’ His fingers tightened around hers. ‘Then the pressure on my lungs and I couldn’t breathe. I could feel my arms reaching upwards, my legs trying to kick but something held me down. A pressure on the top of my head. I struggled, but I could feel myself getting tired, heavy. And then I was floating into darkness.’

  Sweet Mother Mary. Heather felt sick just thinking about it. This was a pain that would haunt Travis forever.

  He sighed and leaned his head to hers. Heather dropped her head to his shoulder and let the pressure of his head on hers comfort her whirling thoughts.

  ‘Tracy could bench press eighty kilos, ten kilos more than me. She spent hours in the gym in the shed, the only place she went outside of the house. She was strong. She should have been able to rise above the weight that held her down. Fight her way out of the current. The river was swollen but it wasn’t running fast due to a blockage by a tree downstream. None of it made sense.’

  Heather could feel his frustration in the stiffness of his body, the clutch of his hand between hers.

  ‘I heard her voice calling me, terrified, exhausted … then nothing. Jesus, Heather, it was like someone took my soul and ripped it out of my body. I’ve never known such pain.’

  Heather lifted her head and watched him raise his free hand to his face, swipe it across and then press his fingers against his closed lids. She drew his hand down and snagged his gaze.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  He shook his head, his eyes glistening. ‘Then she was gone. I woke up flat on my back in the dust surrounded by people. I had no idea how I got there, no memory of passing out.’

  He shifted away from her and stood, walking over and leaning his hands on the veranda rail. Heather stayed where she was, watching him stare out into the inky black horizon.

  ‘The circuit paramedics thought I might have passed out as the gate opened. It was a hot day, so they thought it might have been dehydration. I don’t remember being bucked or hitting the ground. All I remember is the pain Tracy felt. I should never have gone to Newman. I’ve lived the last couple of years wishing I hadn’t made that decision. If I had, Tracy might still be alive. It doesn’t make sense why she went down to the creek alone that day. Not when she hardly left the house anymore. And she definitely never left Casey alone in the house.’

  Heather stood and moved to the rail, her arm touching his. ‘It’s not your fault, Travis. It was an accident.’

  ‘That’s what doesn’t make sense. When I got back and after the police had finished their investigation, I went down there. The rock she allegedly fell from was flat, nothing sharp that would cause the stabb
ing pain I’d felt. She used to polish her boots with black polish. If she’d slipped, the polish would have left a streak. And there was nothing that could have held her down in the water. No trees nearby to get tangled in the roots. Nothing. And definitely no note to suggest she’d contemplated suicide.’

  ‘Was she suicidal?’ Heather’s blood ran cold and she shivered against the goosebumps on her skin.

  ‘She was troubled, yes. Suicidal? No. Casey was her world. She would never have taken her own life and left Casey behind.’

  ‘You think she was murdered? But who on earth would have a motive?’

  Travis nodded. ‘I wish I had proof, but I don’t. I only have suspicions. The police wrapped up the case too quickly, missed vital clues like the footprints of bigger boots in the mud, the broken branches and a piece of Tracy’s shirt caught on a sharp piece of wood where the branch had snapped off. The coroner turned out the results of the autopsy in record time. I think it was a cover up.’

  ‘Oh, Travis.’ Heather stood closer and put a hand on his back. ‘But why? Why would anyone want to murder her?’

  He shrugged. ‘To keep her quiet, maybe? Tracy knew too much about what went on over at the Bannister place when Zac threw his parties. There were rumours of drugs and dirty deals, but no one believed it. Not with his grandfather covering his butt at every turn. And this is a small town. Folk can be a little naive about those things, especially my parents.’

  ‘What did Riggs do? Surely he couldn’t ignore the possibilities of her death. He’s been the town cop forever.’

  Travis ran his hands through his hair and let out a long sigh. ‘Riggs was away on long service leave. We had another officer in charge at the time. One who was suspiciously friendly with Zac’s biker mates and very keen to file the report as a drowning accident.’