Burning Lies

by Helene Young

  The next one from a tame prison guard was more worrisome. John Derek Barton’s file had been requested from corrective services. Was this to do with McCormack? Did he have a longer reach than Chris realised? Was that how he’d found the connection between his two identities?

  The sun was well up now, pouring in through the windows despite their grimy patina. The heat of the day was on the rise. He had a shower and shrugged into his neatly pressed uniform. Another side benefit of prison. All that laundry duty taught a man how to crease straight.

  He looked at the clock radio. Seven-fifteen. Time to go. An instant before he logged out of the game he saw a message had come through from a contact in Canberra.

  ‘What the fuck?’ The chair scraped across the floor as he pulled it to him and sat down heavily, scanning the information.

  Bradley Ryan, the metropolitan fireman from Sydney, had a fabricated history. In other words, he didn’t exist. But another ex-fireman called Ryan Braddon did, and he’d been released from prison a year ago after doing seven years for kiddie-fiddling. Braddon had now vanished. Chris’s prison source thought he’d been relocated up north.

  Chris hawked the taste from the back of his throat. Fuckin’ paedophiles. They did their time and then the government went to great lengths to give them new identities so they could resettle them. Scum, filthy fuckin’ scum, who preyed on the vulnerable and betrayed the most basic trust in the world.

  Worse than robbers and drug dealers, they were. Right on the top of his hate list, alongside rapists. Castrate the lot of them and bugger the chemical method; go for the rusty knife. There were plenty who came out of jail minus some of their moving parts. He’d assisted in the showers a couple of times.

  There was a phone number, but he didn’t have time to call. Later. He sent off another message. He needed more information before he acted, but he’d be watching. Daniel was too precious to him. No one would be allowed to get near him. McCormack’s problem suddenly seemed like a great opportunity. Instead of setting Ryan up to take the fall, Chris could kill him as well. He just had to be careful not to destroy the Scotts’ house. It would take careful planning and the right wind, but it was nothing he couldn’t manage.

  The anger flared in him, heating his blood. He knew what would ease it, what would bring him some peace, but today was shaping up to be catastrophic on the fire front. There’d be enough to do today. He just had to wait for the pager to go off. And it would.

  Patience. His fingers tapped the tabletop. Who are you really, Bradley Ryan? Whoever you are, I’m coming after you and you won’t know what hit you.

  Time to pay a visit.

  Chapter 27

  ‘CROISSANTS for brekkie?’ Kaitlyn closed the front door. They were Dan’s favourite and usually a weekend-only treat. This morning needed all the help it could get.

  ‘Morning, my love.’ Julia had gone to some trouble with her make-up, but there were still shadows under her eyes and hollows in her cheeks.

  ‘Get any sleep?’ Kaitlyn dropped the paper bag on the bench-top and gave her mother a hug that lasted longer than usual.

  Julia shook her head. ‘Not much. And you were out early?’

  ‘Yeah, I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your car, but I’d rather get the mechanic to check the damage on mine before we drive it again. And …’

  Julia waved Kait’s apology aside. ‘Of course, of course. And what?’

  Kaitlyn hadn’t intended to mention her dawn investigations to Julia, but now she felt compelled to share. ‘Martin found an address. Sent it through this morning. I checked it out.’

  Julia’s knuckles went white as she picked up a china cup. ‘And?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Waves of adrenalin were still heating Kait’s body, an hour after her drive-by. But her hands were finally steady. Playing cops and robbers had not been in her childhood repertoire.

  ‘Where was it?’

  Kait glanced around. ‘Dan?’

  ‘In the shower still.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘Okay, I think. He looks like he got more sleep than either of us.’

  ‘Good. He snored all night.’ Kait managed a tiny smile.

  ‘So?’ Julia pushed again.

  ‘The address is in Kairi, up an unsealed dead-end road. It’s a low-set weatherboard on a basic housing block. The place on the right looks like it’s going to fall down in the next cyclone. The one on the left has a ‘For Rent’ sign hiding in long grass.’

  ‘Do we know anyone in the street?’

  Kait shook her head. ‘A Toyota ute was parked nose-first in the carport. It had spotties on the roof rack. I’ve got the rego. I’ll send it off to Martin. Unfortunately, half the population of the Tablelands drives something similar.’

  The bathroom door slammed, followed a second later by running feet.

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘Hi, darling.’

  He slid to a stop in front of her, hands on his hips. ‘Where’d you go?’

  ‘Thought you might be hungry.’ She opened the bag so he could see the buttery pastries.

  ‘Yum. But it’s not Saturday.’

  ‘A treat.’

  ‘Great.’ He had the fridge open and the strawberry jam out before Julia could get plates on the bench.

  ‘Easy, tiger, that’s enough jam for a football team,’ Kait warned as he spooned a pile of sticky pink fruit onto the plate.

  He grinned at her and shoved the spoon in his mouth, smacking his lips around it. ‘I’ll share with you,’ he said, teeth and tongue now stained red.

  ‘Thanks, I’ll get my own.’ Did he remember last night’s storm of emotion? Or had it all rolled into a dream for him?

  ‘One for you, Julia?’

  ‘I’m not hungry yet. I’ll have one later.’

  Julia turned away, but not before Kait saw the hint of tears in her mother’s eyes. Jerry’s death had hit her hardest. Understandable, since they’d had so much in common.

  Kaitlyn didn’t push her. They’d each find their own way through this latest loss. It did mean she wasn’t going to share the rest of Martin’s email with Julia just yet.

  She left Julia and Dan debating the merits of extra butter on croissants, and re-read the email as the electric toothbrush vibrated in her mouth.

  The bottom line was that Martin still believed Stephen and Chris had died in the fire. What he also believed, and always had, was that someone else had lit the fire and then escaped. Was it the arsonist Kait had been tracking in the aircraft?

  Martin had no new answers. Her father was still dead and there was still someone out there claiming to be Chris Jackson. She took small comfort from Martin’s strong belief that her husband was no arsonist. The flip side of that was the knowledge Chris and Stephen had probably been murdered. It made no sense. Why would anyone want to murder them? Who was using Chris’s identity?

  What the hell was going on?

  After a long day in the office she was no closer to an explanation. Her head throbbed. At least the training program was finally finished. She and Morgan had checked and rechecked to make sure they had all bases covered. Lauren had swung by on her way home after a four-day trip. The three of them spent half an hour swapping news in the car park. As a child, Kaitlyn only ever had one or two best friends. That habit hadn’t changed. She didn’t need a busy social circle; family had always been her focus. Walking to Julia’s car in the late afternoon heat, Kaitlyn contemplated the differences between herself and her two friends. Morgan, happy and pregnant, was going home to her man. Lauren had skipped out of the office and back to Callam.

  Kait was going home to her mother and her son.

  For a fleeting moment she allowed herself to consider what it would be like to have a pair of strong arms around her, a partner to share her day with, a man to laugh with. She gave herself a mental shake.

  She’d had strong arms around her last night and it had felt like heaven, just before she’d spotted a weapon at his waist and realised
she knew nothing about him. Forget it, girl. Undeniably, his was the sexiest pair of arms she’d ever had wrapped around her. Add to that his body – lean, muscled and inescapably male. The tang of aftershave and —

  No, stop.

  Think of something else.

  She checked in with Julia and wrote down a list of things her mother wanted from the shops. Now all she had to do was drive for an hour and fifteen minutes with just her thoughts for company.

  The radio was full of talkback tonight. She changed to CD, knowing it would be lucky dip. Dan’s taste was evolving and Julia only played classical when she was in the car alone. Dan won. It was Jessica Mauboy and she let the rhythm and blues roll over her, her thoughts in freefall.

  Chris Jackson, Brad Ryan, and an arsonist. They rolled around and around as she examined them from every angle. Another option surfaced. If Martin was right and Chris had been murdered in the fire in Canberra, had the arsonist then deliberately taken Chris’s identity?

  If this man was living at Kairi, did that mean he was the cause of the recent wave of fires on the Tablelands? Could it be that she’d met him already? Had she worked with him, shared a beer with him in the Barron Valley pub? Was he using another name here as well? It was possible, but maybe too far-fetched. Maybe she was reading more into this than was there …

  And Ryan. It seemed too coincidental that he’d moved here at a time like this, with a background in firefighting, and a gun at the ready. She didn’t believe in coincidences.

  Undercover? Or something more sinister? She opted for undercover. He was too clean-cut for a criminal.

  By the time she reached the Walkamin jump-up and the last long stretch of road towards Atherton, she still had no answers. She’d just have to wait until tonight for more information. Too many other things needed her attention.

  In Atherton, she had to cruise around the supermarket car park until she found a spot. Everyone was doing their mid-week shopping.

  Engrossed in the ingredients on a jar of strawberry jam, she almost dropped it when a deep voice spoke in her ear. ‘Go with the blueberry, it’s wicked.’

  And so was the grin on Ryan’s face. ‘Ryan.’ She knew she looked off-balance and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. No matter her suspicions about this man, he made her blood sing in a way that had her cheeks burning. ‘Buying cleaning products, or did you get that sorted?’ She probably sounded shrewish, but it was the best she could manage on the spur of the moment.

  ‘All done. Finished it this morning. Place is shipshape again. I think Jerry would be proud.’ His look softened. ‘How much did you know about him?’

  ‘Why?’ Kait kept her voice neutral, not wanting to risk any more tears. Just let him say one bad thing about Jerry and she’d freeze him dead on the spot.

  ‘I found his journals. He’d hidden them in the wardrobe and the idiots last night pulled the back out of it.

  ‘Is that right? I didn’t know he was a writer.’ She was intrigued despite herself.

  ‘Second World War. I think he was a spy.’

  ‘Really?’ She could believe that. ‘Who for?’

  ‘The Brits. Seems he had an aptitude for languages. They used him in Germany. Makes fascinating reading. I can drop them round.’

  ‘Oh, no, that wouldn’t be right.’ She backed up a step.

  ‘I don’t think he’d mind you reading them. He had later journals too. I’d already found them. You guys were his family. The closest thing he had to a daughter and a grandson. I think he may have been half in love with Julia.’

  ‘Oh?’ Kait couldn’t help but smile. ‘That would be the food. She loved feeding him, even though I always suspected he couldn’t possibly eat all the leftovers she sent him home with.’

  ‘It was the whole package. But I guess she was the wrong gender.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She glanced up at him from under her lashes. So he knew Jerry was gay and didn’t seem to have a redneck reaction. Points to him. ‘They were good friends. She was devastated last night when I told her. She’s been missing him. They both loved classical music.’ Her throat tightened and she did that trick with her tongue again, hoping it would stave off any tears. Ryan didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Maybe Julia would like to read them.’

  ‘Maybe.’ She could manage one word at a time.

  ‘And Dan. It might help Dan deal with losing him.’ He shrugged, suddenly looking uncomfortable, awkward. ‘If he knew some more about him, maybe it would give him stronger memories of Jerry.’

  His thoughtfulness surprised her. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

  ‘I’ll drop them round and you decide. Once you’ve finished with them I’ll give them to the estate agent. They’ll know who to send them to. They didn’t seem too worried about the break-in, provided I wasn’t.’

  ‘So you rang them?’

  ‘Sure. Nothing was stolen so I didn’t bother the cops. They’re busy enough.’

  ‘Right. Well, I’d better get going. Julia’s waiting for me and the dinner ingredients.’

  ‘See you later, then.’

  Next aisle up she ran into Speedy. It was one of those days. ‘Hey, Speedy, how are you?’

  ‘Fine.’ He didn’t look happy.

  ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. Why?’ He didn’t meet her eyes, his glance directed over her shoulder.

  She turned her head and caught a brief glimpse of Ryan at the check-out. A testosterone thing between the old guard and the new kid on the block? ‘You look tired, but I guess with all these fires it’s no wonder. You’re just about single-handedly managing them all.’

  ‘Just doing my job. Just like you do yours,’ he replied, his stance relaxing. ‘Good thing Dan’s bike turned up, then.’

  ‘Yeah, very glad about that. Appreciate you dropping him home a couple of times. It made it so much easier for Julia.’

  ‘Anytime. And Kait, Kaitlyn?’ He stumbled over her name and the colour rose in his face. ‘Happy birthday for Saturday.’

  ‘Aw, thanks, Speedy. Did Dan tell you?’ She was touched that the bus driver took an interest in her family. No wonder they said such good things about him.

  ‘He’s made a present for you and he showed it to me on the bus. You’ll love it.’ It took her by surprise when he leant in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. It wasn’t a peck, he lingered too long for that, but she took it in the spirit she judged it had been given.

  ‘Thanks. You’re lovely.’ She patted his shoulder. ‘Better run, though. I’m already late.’

  ‘Off you go. Enjoy Saturday, eh?’

  Ten minutes later she hit the road and headed for home. She judged her equilibrium to be almost back in balance. Ryan had a way of appearing when she least expected it. And every time he rattled her composure. Without fail. Ridiculous.

  And then Speedy? If she’d read that right he didn’t look happy to see Ryan. A competitive thing? She’d only heard good reports about Ryan’s ability with the team, but he’d been out with Speedy so maybe Speedy knew more than everyone else.

  Looks, as they say, could be deceiving.

  Chapter 28

  GRANT McCormack had been sniffing around the area for three days. He was glad he’d hired a large car with enough power to keep him out of trouble – not that he was expecting trouble, exactly, but he didn’t trust Chris Jackson. He’d been disappointed not to come face to face with him at the community hall meeting. Still, it was probably best they didn’t meet in public.

  Twice today he’d seen Jackson from a distance, togged up in his orange overalls and driving a fire truck like a respected member of the community. What a perfect cover for an arsonist. Nirvana for someone fire-obsessed, and Jackson was obsessed as well as mad.

  Grant remembered his father shooting a rabid dog in their house in New Guinea, years ago. The animal was half crazed with the disease and nothing was going to stand between it and freedom. Grant could still recall the snarl of terror and hate on the animal’s fac
e as it made its final lunge at them. He got the same impression from Chris Jackson. The arsonist was going to go down fighting.

  The first house up Happy Jack Road was the Scotts’ place. He admired the clean lines, the tidy gardens and the clever use of position. It had been designed for this spot and this spot only. At the meeting the other night he’d heard that Kaitlyn Scott was a smart and determined lady. He’d added top-end attractive to that.

  She’d gone before he had a chance to talk to her. There was no missing her bright hair as she left the hall with a sway of her hips. He’d always had a thing for redheads.

  Brad Ryan was an interesting character. Lucky he was just renting, because Grant got the impression he’d be a tough bastard to negotiate with. He was sure a hell of a lot was going on behind the amiable smile.

  It was hard enough trying to deal with the lawyers for the bloke who’d inherited the place. The will might have been finalised, but the new owner wasn’t negotiating.

  The Scotts’ house was closed up. No one answered the door. He wandered around the side, tried the wide doors on that side. Nothing. No one home and nothing unlocked. He peered through the glass and whistled. A grand piano. The place had a homely, comfortable look. Very nice. Ms Scott had good taste and obviously some cash to burn.

  He kept walking around the house until he came back to the front. If she was cashed up, then it made it harder to bargain. Financial need had a powerful way of making people ignore the fine print.

  He got back in his car and drove on towards the deceased estate, admiring the sweeping views and the swathe of plantation to his left. It would be a shame to see all those trees cleared, but gold mining necessitated land clearing. Easy to see why the geologists thought there might be gold here. He’d spent enough time with the WA operation to know the signs himself. If his father had listened to him, Grant would have gone to university and done geology. But his father never listened.

  There was a ute out on the grass verge. It had a big bank of spotlights and a gun rack. Ryan must like to shoot. Grant hadn’t picked up that vibe the other night. He parked behind the ute and laid a hand on the bonnet as he walked by. Hot. Hadn’t been parked long.