With thick smoke blowing to the south, and a fire site still not totally secured, two of the best landing sites – the school oval and the showground – were too dangerous to use.
‘Gary,’ she called over to the senior ambulance officer. ‘Tell the chopper to land in the stock reserve on the north side of town.’
Karl Sauer and a couple of other SES volunteers waited nearby, not needed now that the ambulances had arrived, but keen to be useful. She asked them to arrange a couple of vehicles to light up a safe landing spot in the reserve. She’d already sent the two Birraga police officers to block each end of the main street.
‘Adam, can you liaise with the RFS? As soon as it’s safe, that whole site needs securing and guarding.’
‘You suspect arson?’ Steve Fraser asked.
‘Yes.’ She hated saying the word, acknowledging aloud that someone might have deliberately targeted Jeanie. ‘There’s been a few developments since this afternoon.’
‘Adam just mentioned that you’d run into some strife on the way home. Or that it ran into you.’
‘Close enough.’
‘What about Gillespie? Is this his doing?’
‘Hell, no.’ She glanced around, having lost track of Gil, but she saw his figure not far away, dark in the shadows, leaning a shoulder against the back corner of Ward’s, silently watching.
Alone. On the outer. She guessed he’d probably spent most of his life that way. Not the kind of guy comfortable in a group.
‘Gillespie was with me when the fire started,’ she told Steve. ‘And he saved Jeanie’s life.’
‘So you’re his alibi. Again. Mightn’t be wise to make a habit of that, Kris.’
She felt her face harden, and studied him coldly. ‘Is that a threat, Steve?’
‘No.’ He didn’t shy away from her straight gaze. ‘It’s an expression of concern. Gillespie’s involved with some hard types, who could make things difficult for you.’
‘They’ve already tried. With a text message threat after the run-down-the-copper episode.’
‘Fuck.’ The vehemence of the swear word seemed genuine. ‘You should have phoned me, Kris.’
‘Yep, that was on my to-do list,’ she said dryly, ‘but other things intervened. I reported it – still waiting on the trace. So, have you got any contacts in arson investigation? I want somebody good on their way here right now.’
‘I’ll make a phone call or two. You seem pretty sure it’s arson.’
‘I’d much rather that it was an accident, and not connected to Marci Doonan’s death,’ she answered, ‘but since the place contained two sources of evidence that might have helped us to identify who murdered her and dumped her, an accident is pretty damned unlikely.’
EIGHT
No-one was paying Gil any attention, and he could have just left – but to go where? With the cabin probably destroyed or at least out of bounds, he had nowhere to go. Besides, his main priorities now were there in front of him – Jeanie and Kris. He couldn’t do anything for Jeanie, but he worried for Kris’s safety. So, for the moment at least, he stayed on the edges of things and observed.
The paramedics hauled a gurney out of the back of one of the vehicles, and wheeled it towards Jeanie. Beth stepped aside, and the ambos carefully moved their patient on to the stretcher, arranging the oxygen and monitors around her.
Activity buzzed around the informal control post the area had become. There were brief discussions, hurried phone calls, and a few people came and went. One of the firefighters came to report, and Karl Sauer returned, then both of them went straight to Kris. Even with Fraser there, even with the ambos and each of the emergency services having their own senior officer, she seemed to be at the centre of everything. They all reported to her, or consulted with her, and she handled it with a down-to-earth efficiency.
And all the while she didn’t forget him. With the light behind her, he couldn’t see her face as she approached. But when she stopped beside him, her tired attempt at a smile came naturally enough.
‘Would you like to see Jeanie before she goes? The helicopter’s only ten minutes or so away.’
The considerate gesture threw him for a moment. With so much else to attend to, she’d thought of him.
Did he want to see Jeanie? No, not lying still and helpless, instead of bright and healthy as she’d always been. But he owed her, and with the future so uncertain for both of them, he couldn’t just let her go.
‘Yes. Thanks.’ The words scraped in his raw throat.
Jeanie seemed tiny under the white blanket on the stretcher, her head and neck encased in a padded immobiliser, her face obscured by the oxygen mask.
‘You’re strong enough to get through this.’ They were her words, after the committal hearing all those years ago, when they were about to take him to prison.
He wanted to tell her the same thing, but the senior paramedic hovered nearby, and he didn’t know if it would be stupid to talk to an unconscious woman.
He laid his hand carefully on the bony shoulder under the sheet, and spoke to the paramedic instead. ‘Tell them to look after her. She’s tougher than she looks. She’s strong enough to get through this, and she won’t give up.’
‘Yep, mate, she’s a fighter.’ The paramedic grinned. ‘I’ve known her a few years. Bloody stubborn when she makes up her mind, our Jeanie. They’re a good team at Tamworth, and they’ll give her their best.’
Gil took one last look at Jeanie, then went and found Kris, waiting while she finished giving instructions to one of the coppers.
‘Is someone going with Jeanie?’ he asked her. He hated to think of Jeanie going alone to a strange hospital, in a strange town a few hundred kilometres away. And he couldn’t just leave the photo with her – it could too easily be lost, with no-one to look after it.
‘There’s no room in the chopper for an extra, but Dave Butler from the pub is going to drive his mother to Tamworth tonight. Nancy will stay with her.’
Gil vaguely remembered Nancy, an older woman who’d spent most of her time in the pub kitchen, while her husband Stan manned the bar. Last night he hadn’t picked Dave as their son – but when he’d left Dungirri, Dave had been just a kid of six or seven.
Kris touched a light hand to his arm. ‘Do you want to give her the photo, for Jeanie? They’re close friends, and since Nancy lost her husband a few months back, she’ll understand its importance and take good care of it.’
Her perception, the way she answered questions before he’d formed them, despite all the other matters demanding her attention, impressed him yet again.
‘Nancy’s place is two doors down from here.’ She pointed back down the road past Ward’s. ‘The fire’s almost out now, so I let her go home to pack a few things. You can go and give it to her.’ About to turn away to where Steve waited to speak to her, she added, ‘Don’t disappear, hey? We need to go over a few things later.’
He nodded in agreement, although he didn’t look forward to the prospect of ‘going over’ things.
A flustered voice calling ‘Just a minute’ answered his knock on Nancy Butler’s door, but it was nearer two minutes before the outside light flooded the porch and the door opened.
When her red-rimmed eyes focused through the screen door on him, Nancy took a step backwards.
‘What do you want?’
He wished he’d pulled the photo out of his jacket before now, because the way she was looking at him, she’d probably think he was going for a gun.
Anger brewed in him, but he reined it in. Given his reputation and his arrest on suspicion of murder earlier that day – the whole town would know about that by now – expressing his bitterness wouldn’t do a damned thing to change their attitudes.
‘Mrs Butler,’ he began, using the formal address in an attempt to allay her suspicion. ‘I managed to save a photo of Jeanie and her husband. I … Could you take it for her?’
He reached for the photo slowly, holding his jacket wide so she could see
what he was doing. She inched the screen door open, took the photo, and yanked it shut again.
‘You got this photo? When? How?’
‘When the sergeant and I were getting her out of her place.’
‘You? But it was Karl who rescued her.’
So, that was how the story was going around. No wonder, since it was Karl who’d carried her away from the fire, making the perfect picture of a local hero.
‘Karl … helped. When he got there.’ He didn’t downplay the man’s contributions. No doubt Sauer would have walked into the burning building, too, if necessary.
‘Jeanie will need some money. I’ll give you what cash I’ve got.’ He pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket and found he still had three hundred dollars left. That would cover some nightdresses, a few clothes, enough to get her by for a couple of days until he made it to Tamworth, or made other arrangements. He held the notes out to Nancy. ‘Please get her whatever she needs.’
Her lips pursed, the woman took the money, neatening the notes and folding them in half together.
‘You can trust me,’ she said, almost as an accusation, as if she wanted him to know she didn’t entirely trust him.
‘I know I can.’ He spoke the truth. Nancy Butler didn’t like him, but her affection for her friend would see to Jeanie’s best interests.
The door shut firmly before he’d finished stepping off the porch.
The thwack of the rotors reverberated in Kris’s head as the helicopter gained height and circled around to head east to Tamworth, with Jeanie on board.
If anyone asked why her eyes were moist, she’d blame it on the dust blown around by the chopper. But no-one asked. A subdued mood settled on the paramedics and the SES crew, now that their task was completed. With the fire reduced to embers, and under the constant watch of the RFS and the police, the danger had passed. From all reports, there wasn’t much left to burn. She thanked the SES and ambulance crews for their work, and sent them home.
She walked with Beth across the paddock to her place. Neither of them spoke much, but it was peaceful, in a way, to have the few quiet minutes of space with a friend, where she didn’t have to be in charge. The clear night air and the easy pace eased her breathing even further.
Ryan waited on the back veranda, taking Beth’s hand as soon as she was in reach. ‘You look bushed, Kris,’ he said. ‘Do you want to come in for a bit?’
The thought of stopping for a while in undemanding company tempted her, but she regretfully shook her head.
‘Thanks, but I’ve got to go and tell the evacuees at the hall that they can go home. Then get reports written, and the investigation started.’
She headed down Scrub Road, back towards the police station and the hall. The gravel crunched under her boots, and although she had too much to do, she didn’t hurry. She had a task that could use this time as she walked.
She flipped open her phone and dialled Bella O’Connell’s number.
She’d first met Bella on a police training course in Sydney, four or five years back, and they’d quickly become friends. Although Bella worked then as a detective in Tamworth, she’d grown up in Dungirri and knew the area well. When young Jess Sutherland disappeared after school, one summer afternoon almost two years ago, Kris had recommended to the area commander that Bella be seconded to the police team.
That investigation had ended in disaster, with Jess murdered, and Bella seriously injured trying to protect a suspect. Yet she’d returned last year, and at least then the outcome had been positive – to a degree. Beth and Ryan’s little girl, Tanya, had been rescued, relatively unharmed by her ordeal, but two local men had been murdered, their deaths adding to the toll of murders and suicides that had traumatised the town since the first abduction.
Kris only thought to check the time as the ringing tone sounded in her ear, realising it was past ten o’clock at the same moment as Bella answered.
‘Sorry to call you so late, Bella. But something’s happened, and I wanted to let you know before you heard it elsewhere.’
‘Is it Delphi?’ Anxiety clear in her voice, Bella asked after her aunt, who lived a few kilometres out of town. ‘Is something wrong with her?’
‘Delphi’s fine. It’s Jeanie, Bella. She’s being airlifted to Tamworth hospital. There was an explosion at the café this evening, and she was injured.’ She explained quickly, giving what details she could about Jeanie’s condition.
‘I’ll call the hospital first thing tomorrow,’ Bella said. ‘But the explosion … what happened? Was it an accident or suspicious?’
Despite Bella’s resignation from the police force to pursue a research career, she still thought like a detective.
‘Highly suspicious,’ Kris answered. ‘Arson squad is on its way.’
‘But who …? Why Jeanie’s place?’
The breeze rustled the leaves in the trees by the creek, and in the moonlight a night bird of some sort flapped across the road in front of her.
‘It’s a long story, Bella,’ she said after a moment. ‘The short version is that Gil Gillespie came back to town last night, and inadvertently brought some Sydney mafia trouble with him.’
‘Morgan Gillespie? Des’s son?’
‘Yes. Did you know him?’
‘Not well. I haven’t seen him since I was a teenager. But you need to talk to Alec. I know he met Gillespie in Sydney, had some dealings with him. And if there’s mafia involved, Alec might be able to advise you. He won’t be home until late tonight, but I’ll get him to call you in the morning.’
‘Thanks, Bella. Hey, how is everything with you two?’
She could hear the smile in her friend’s voice. ‘Good,’ Bella said. ‘Very, very good.’
Kris grinned at the phone as they finished the call, pleased to hear Bella so content. But she slowed her steps as Bella’s earlier words came back, her thoughts whirling. Dealings. Alec Goddard had had dealings with Gil, in Sydney.
Before his promotion to the Commander’s position on the north coast six months ago, Alec had led a team at State Crime Command in Sydney, specialising in organised crime. She’d met him – as had Bella – when he’d been appointed to lead the investigation into Tanya’s abduction. In the harrowing days while they’d searched for the child and hunted a killer, Alec had earned Kris’s respect – for his investigative skills and leadership of the police team, his interactions with the broader community, and for his integrity.
But as soon as the Dungirri case was over, and Tanya had been found, he’d been called back to Sydney for another major investigation. And Kris knew – because she’d followed the news almost as closely as Bella – that he’d wrapped up that case after arresting two corrupt police officers. The pieces were fitting together. Gil had passed on information about corrupt officers. Alec had had dealings with Gil. One and one had to equal two.
Yes, she definitely wanted to talk with Alec.
Maybe she’d get more background from him than she had from Joe Petric. Joe had worked with him, before Alec’s promotion, and while Joe had said today that he’d come across Gil in general enquiries, he’d given no indication of more than that. He might not have known about Gil’s information – Alec would likely keep the identity of an informant secret, especially in such a sensitive situation – but Joe had been less than forthcoming about other aspects of the circumstances around Marci’s death. The lack of information might be no more than a touch of arrogance, a power-playing game to keep the local cops in their place.
But Kris could play that game too to get to the bottom of a crime, and with direct access to Alec Goddard, she intended to use it.
She turned off Scrub Road to take the short-cut across vacant blocks to the police station. Beyond the station, the hall was lit up, and between the hall and the creek a group of evacuees were usefully filling in time by erecting the marquee that had been hired for the ball.
It was mostly the younger guys involved. Sean Barrett, with a few beers under his belt, Karl’s
cousins, Luke and Jake, and the three Dawson boys all cheerfully argued about the process. Melinda Ward and Heidi Sauer resignedly held on to two of the corner poles as the testosterone flowed, while Angie Butler, mug in hand, propped up a corner of the hall, laughing and trading friendly insults with the lads.
Kris left them to it, and went inside. A few tables and chairs had been set up at the kitchen end of the large space, and someone had pulled out the urn and opened the Progress Association’s tea and coffee supplies.
A couple of dozen adults sat around the tables, the majority of them well past their middle years. Most of the younger, fitter residents were out with the RFS and the SES, like Karl and Paul, and his wife Chloe. Jim Barrett and George Pappas were leading their assorted grandkids in a noisy game of blindman’s bluff, but they stopped when Kris walked in, leaving Andrew Pappas’s eldest in charge of the game while they joined the adults to hear the news.
She declined Mark’s offer of a seat. She wouldn’t be here long, and if she sat down, she might never stand up again.
‘Jeanie is safely on the flight to Tamworth,’ she told the group. ‘She’s still unconscious, but her vital signs are reasonable. We won’t know anything more until at least the morning.’
‘But do you think she’ll be okay?’ Joy Dawson asked.
Kris hesitated. She’d already given more information than the standard police report, but this was a small community, under pressure, and most of these people had known Jeanie for their entire lives. There’d be talk, and anxious worrying, and it would be better if it was based on fact, rather than speculation.
So she answered honestly. ‘I don’t know, Joy. She has a head injury, and her heart stopped for a little while. She also probably inhaled a lot of smoke, and there may be other injuries we don’t know about. It could all be minor, and she might be sitting up in bed in the morning eating breakfast, or it might not. There’s simply no way any of us can know, at this point. We’re just going to have to be patient and wait for news.’
Dark Country (Dungirri) Page 12
