Charlie’s dad, Senior Sergeant Sam Nichols, was sitting next to her.
‘So what time do you think you got here?’
‘I’m not sure. I think I left the house at around six thirty and it takes, I don’t know, half an hour or so to walk here.’
‘So that would be just after seven,’ he said.
‘Yes, but I stopped a couple of times on the way. I stopped to eat a muesli bar and to take a couple of photos.’
‘You’re doing really well. Would you like me to call Janey?’
She shook her head. ‘Thanks but I spoke to her last night. She was off to Melbourne this morning on some sort of buying trip—she’d be there by now.’
‘Anyone else?’
Henny bit her lip and thought, and there was only one name that came to mind. ‘Um, I guess I could call Stephen Drake.’
‘Are you . . .?’
Henny shook her head. ‘No, we’re just friends.’
‘Well, that’s good. I think what you need at the moment is a hot cup of tea, dry clothes and a friend,’ Sam Nichols said.
‘Do you think it was an accident, Mr Nichols? I mean, when I pulled him out I saw that his head was hurt,’ Henny said, pointing to her temple.
‘Hmm, I guess we won’t know for sure until an autopsy has been carried out,’ he said, beckoning a young constable who was standing nearby. ‘Henny, if you give Constable Jones the number, he’ll call Stephen Drake. I just need to ask you a couple more things, okay?’
‘Sure,’ Henny said as she picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts before handing it to the constable. ‘There you go.’
The constable took the phone and moved away. Henny turned back to Senior Sergeant Nichols.
‘How else can I help?’
‘Just tell me what happened when you got here.’
‘I was on the other side of the rise when Dover found me.’ Instinctively she put her hand down and patted the dog’s head. ‘He was distressed and acting like he wanted me to follow him.’
‘So you did.’
‘Yes. Every time I’ve seen Dover, Harley hasn’t been too far behind. I figured something was wrong, I don’t know what I expected—maybe that he’d hurt himself or was sick, I don’t know. Anyway, I was looking for him as I came down the hill but it wasn’t until I got to the bank that I saw him in the water. I swam out and dragged him back. I tried to do CPR but . . . well, I guess it was too late.’
‘Did you notice anything else?’
‘No, there wasn’t anyone here but Dover and me.’
The constable returned. ‘Excuse me, sir—Stephen Drake is on the way.’ He handed Henny’s phone back.
‘Thanks,’ Senior Sergeant Nichols said. A silence fell over them as Henny noticed that they were loading Harley’s covered body into the ambulance. ‘You need to go home and have some rest. There’ll probably be a few more questions but that can wait.’
‘Okay.’
‘So I guess I’d better take this fella with me,’ he said, looking across to the dog beside Henny.
She shook her head. ‘If it’s alright, I’d like to keep Dover with me.’
Sam Nichols nodded then stood up and placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘Sorry you had to go through this, especially on the coat-tails of losing your mum.’
She looked down at her hands. Someone had to find poor Harley and for whoever it had been the experience would have rattled them to their core. ‘Thanks,’ Henny said quietly.
‘If you need or think of anything, you know how to get in touch.’
‘Of course,’ Henny replied.
With a nod Senior Sergeant Nichols walked down the hill towards a group of people, some in uniform, others not. One man was putting up police tape and the whole bank of the res was a hive of activity.
Henny sat on the bench feeling chilled and detached, with only the body heat of Dover warming her. Minutes seemed to merge and Henny couldn’t tell how long she had sat watching the scene below—it could have been five minutes, or ten, or maybe half an hour. She watched in a daze as the ambulance slowly drove away but it wasn’t until Stephen was standing in front of her that she registered his arrival.
‘Henny, I came as fast as I could. Are you okay? I mean, they didn’t tell me much, just that there’d been an incident and you needed a friendly face,’ Stephen said sitting down next to her. ‘Geez, Hen, you’re sopping wet! Is that Dover? What the hell’s going on?’
Henny gave him a small smile as she reached over and took his hand. ‘I went for a walk this morning and I came across Dover. I’m really sorry, Stephen, but Harley Turner is dead. He drowned in the res.’
Stephen was silent for a moment, taking in her words. ‘Bloody hell, did you pull him out?’ he asked as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.
Perhaps it was his closeness or the kindness of his gesture, but all of a sudden a wave of emotion crashed through her. Henny’s eyes filled and she started to cry. He hung onto her while she sobbed against his shoulder, trembling in his arms.
After a few minutes, Henny pulled away and tried to get herself under control.
‘Sorry,’ she said, gesturing to the damp patch on Stephen’s shirt. ‘I’ve made you all wet.’
‘Nothing to be sorry about. Come on, I’m taking you home,’ he said as he stood up and held out his hand. ‘You don’t need to be here any longer.’
Henny took his hand and let Stephen lead her over to where his car was parked. As they made their way through the bustling scene, Henny took one more look at the water, still and picture perfect. At a glance no one would be able to tell what death and sorrows the tranquil waters held. With a shudder she turned away and didn’t look back.
Chapter Fourteen
Stephen pulled up outside Wattle Cottage and came around to Henny’s side, offering a hand. She gave him a smile as he took the keys from her and opened the front door. Dover was shadowing her every move anxiously so she reached down and gave him a reassuring pat.
‘It’ll be alright, I promise.’
Stephen opened the door. ‘Do you need a hand?’
‘I’m fine, Stephen, really,’ she said as she walked inside.
‘Okay. How about I put the kettle on?’ he said with a smile.
‘Sounds like a great idea. I guess I need to get Dover settled,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder.
‘Why don’t you get changed and I’ll go and pick up some dog food? I’ll make us some tea as soon as I get back.’
‘Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to be any trouble.’
‘You’re not, don’t worry. Can I keep these for five minutes?’ he asked as he held up the house keys.
‘Sure. I’ll just get my wallet.’
Stephen shook his head. ‘Nah, it’s right—I’ve got this. You go and clean up and try to relax. I’ll be back soon.’ He doubled back to the door. ‘Wanna lock this after me?’
‘Okay,’ she said, her shadow at her side. ‘Thanks again, Stephen—for everything.’
‘Don’t mention it. Back in a tick.’ He turned and headed back to his car.
Henny watched him go for a second or two before shutting the door and locking it. ‘Come on, boy,’ she said, walking to her bedroom. ‘I need a shower.’
She tried to settle Dover in the bedroom but he insisted on following her. Giving up, she finally got into the shower cubicle with the shaggy brown dog curling up on the bath mat. Standing under the almost-scalding water, her mind relived this morning’s events. She tried to push down the wave of emotion that threatened to swamp her but it was useless, and as she took a gulp of steamy air her throat almost seemed to close up as she began to cry. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed leaning against the tiled wall but even with the hot water pouring over her she couldn’t shake the chill in her core.
Eventually she pulled herself together, threw on a pair of jeans and a pale-green checked shirt and joined Stephen in the kitchen. Dover took up a position by her feet as she sat d
own.
‘So, how are the two of you going?’ Stephen asked as he slid a mug of tea in front of her.
‘I can only answer for me but worn out pretty much sums it up,’ Henny replied. She cupped the mug in her hands. ‘Thanks.’
Stephen gestured over to the kitchen bench. ‘I grabbed some dog food, tinned and dry, as well as a couple of bowls, a collar and a lead. Wasn’t sure what you needed. So are you going to keep him?’
‘Thanks so much for getting the stuff, Stephen.’ Henny glanced down at Dover and saw him staring back up at her. ‘Well, I haven’t exactly thought it through but I’m more than happy to keep him—that is, if no one else has a claim to him. I mean, maybe Harley’s parents . . .’
‘I doubt it, but I’ll ask.’
‘That’d be great. Well, until we find out I could certainly use the company.’
‘Good.’ Stephen reached over and scratched Dover behind the ears. ‘So do you need anything else?’
Henny shook her head. ‘Other than twelve hours’ sleep, no, I reckon I’m fine.’
‘I was thinking that maybe you should have something to eat. It’s a bit early for hard liquor for the shock but maybe I could rustle up something to go with the tea.’
‘Thanks, but I think I’m right at the moment,’ Henny said. ‘Listen, I’m really grateful that you came to pick me up. Janey is in Melbourne and you were the first person I thought of.’
‘You don’t have to thank me.’
‘Yeah, I think I do. I really appreciate it.’
They fell into silence for a moment and Henny took another sip of tea. The house was quiet except for the faint ticking of the hall clock and yet Henny didn’t feel the pressure of having to talk. It was a comforting feeling and one that Henny could use right now.
The same question had kept circling around Henny’s head ever since she’d dragged Harley out of the water. She didn’t want to voice it, to give the idea air, but she found herself opening her mouth and the words tumbling out.
‘Stephen, I wanted to ask you a question.’ She paused and took a breath. ‘Do you think Harley could have done this himself or was it an accident?’
‘I want to say accident but I really don’t know. I guess the police will tell us when they work it out.’
‘But it all seems so strange. I mean, I was just talking to him yesterday before the ceremony began—he said a couple of odd things but he seemed okay. Not that I’d know the signs,’ she admitted. ‘I’m afraid that I don’t know that much about mental health. Except maybe the lack of it in my own case,’ she added with a twist of her lips.
Stephen smiled. ‘I reckon most of the surviving class of 2007 would be in the same boat. I don’t know, I guess it hasn’t really sunk in yet—I mean about Harley dying. It’s crazy that he’s here one day and then he’s not. We weren’t that close at school but over the past few years I’ve been looking out for him. I just feel like . . . like I’ve failed him somehow.’
Henny reached out and touched his hand briefly. ‘You can’t think like that. Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault.’ ‘I guess. Harley’s death was just a stupid accident—at least, that’s what I’m choosing to believe.’
‘You’re right, I suppose. It couldn’t be anything else, but . . .’
‘What?’ he asked with a frown.
‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s just he had a wound near his temple and I wondered . . . well, maybe someone did it to him,’ Henny said quietly as she looked up into Stephen’s eyes.
He shook his head in disbelief. ‘No, sorry, Hen, I can’t buy that one. Harley died by falling into Killop Res. I don’t want to believe he planned to do it but I’d take that explanation over murder. Look, I reckon he was over on the high bank, down from the usual swimming spot. He must have lost his footing and hit his head as he tumbled in.’
‘You’re probably right. I guess it’s just because of some things he said to me yesterday. He warned me that I was in danger, which has got me thinking: if he thought I was in danger, maybe he was too? He said that I shouldn’t be here in Lawson’s Bend because it wasn’t safe. He said the accident wasn’t really an accident. What if he was right? If someone wanted to—’
‘Look, Harley wasn’t always in his right mind. Sometimes he’d go off on tangents and see conspiracies around every corner,’ Stephen said as he took her hand in his. ‘He shouldn’t have frightened you like that. He no doubt believed everything he said but half of it wasn’t true.’
‘But he seemed so freaked out, Stephen. For a second I saw true fear in his eyes, I swear it.’
‘I don’t know what was going through his mind. But think about it—murder? Has that ever happened here? Don’t start chasing shadows that aren’t there. You’ve had a terrible shock and a God-awful morning. Maybe after you’ve had a rest you’ll be able to see this with a fresh set of eyes.’
‘Maybe you’re right,’ Henny said as she took another sip of her tea. ‘It’s just that he seemed so adamant. You know, I think I will have a rest—it might make me feel better.’
‘Good idea.’
‘Thanks again for coming. It seems like you always have to rescue me from that bloody res.’
Stephen chuckled. ‘Believe me, I’m more than happy to do it. Anyway, I’ll get out of here so you can have a sleep. Give me a call if you need anything, promise?’
Henny smiled as she gave him a nod. ‘I promise.’
‘Good, I’ll ring you tonight to see how you’re going.’
He stood up. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through all of this.’
‘Me too, but I can only imagine what poor Harley’s parents must be going through.’
‘Devastated, I’d say. I’m going to swing by there before I head home. Not sure what I’ll say.’
Henny thought about what Stephen had said after he left. He was probably right about not reading too much into Harley’s death. The obvious answer was that it was an accident or, at worst, a suicide. But no matter how hard Henny tried to put it out of her mind, the niggling thought was still there—it could have been something more sinister.
***
It was late afternoon when Henny heard a rapid knock on the door; whoever it was seemed impatient or agitated. Dover stood by her side and let out a bark. Henny hesitated.
‘Oh, don’t be an idiot,’ Henny said to herself under her breath. She turned the knob and opened the door to see Aunt Janey standing there.
‘Oh thank God,’ she said as she stepped forward and wrapped Henny in a hug. ‘I just got back from Melbourne to find the town abuzz with the news that you dragged poor Harley out of the res. Is that true?’
Henny stood there and let the hug continue longer than needed—but then again, maybe not.
‘Yes, it’s true, but I’m fine, Janey, really,’ Henny said, eventually pulling away.
Janey studied her face for a second. ‘I’m not convinced about that at all,’ she said, breezing into the house, leaving a faint trail of perfume in her wake. ‘Come on, kiddo, I’m putting on the kettle. After that, I’ll order takeaway.’
Both Henny and Dover followed her dutifully into the kitchen. ‘I can do that,’ she said as her aunt picked up the kettle.
‘Absolutely not—you’re going to sit down on that couch and rest.’
‘I’m not an invalid.’
‘But you have had a nasty shock,’ Janey shot back. ‘I mean, finding the poor boy like that—I wouldn’t be half as composed as you seem to be.’
‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ Henny said as she sat down. ‘I was a bit wonky this morning but I’ve had a shower and a long sleep and I’m okay, really.’
‘Why didn’t you call me?’ Janey exclaimed.
‘Because I knew that you were in the city all day and I didn’t want to worry you. By the time it had happened you’d already left and I didn’t want you to race home.’
‘So you went through all of this by yourself? You know I would have come straight back.’
‘I know you would have, Aunty Janey. But I wasn’t exactly on my own—Stephen picked me up.’
‘Stephen Drake?’
‘Yup.’
‘I didn’t realise that there was anything between the two of you,’ she said, walking over and handing Henny a cup of tea. ‘Hmm, maybe I should have put a shot of something in that.’
Henny chuckled. ‘Thanks, but the tea is fine the way it is. And just to put the record straight, there isn’t anything between us—at least, not in the way you’re thinking. We’re just friends and I think he’s proved his worth more than once.’
‘Stephen’s a good boy but driving you home doesn’t exactly make him a hero.’
‘No, but pulling me out of the res when I was unconscious was. If it wasn’t for Stephen there’s a good chance that we wouldn’t be having this conversation—or did you forget about that?’
Janey sat down next to her. ‘I didn’t know that—I mean, you’ve never really discussed that night in detail with me.’
‘Sorry, Janey, I thought you knew. Stephen saved me that night. He put himself at risk to pull me out.’
She shook her head. ‘That explains a lot—got it now.’
Henny stared at her for a moment. ‘Okay, you’ve lost me.’
‘Your mum always had a soft spot for Stephen. A few years ago she was working on a painting, larger than she normally did. Anyway, it was more than wonderful and several people had offered to buy it but she said no. A local journo caught wind of it and wrote a barely factual account about a bidding war on the painting. It generated some interest, probably more than when she’d been exhibiting in Melbourne. Jess received even more offers to buy the painting but she refused them all.’
‘Okay, now it’s my turn to say that I’ve never heard any of this,’ Henny said as she put down her cup. She swivelled around and tucked her legs under her so that she was facing Janey. ‘So what happened? Did Mum sell the painting?’
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