by Jane Harper
‘For God’s sake, it’s called taking my career seriously. You should try it.’
‘And you should try to get some perspective. It’s only a bloody job.’
Bree didn’t say anything, because she knew her sister would never understand.
It had taken twenty minutes to pack up their makeshift camp and another hour to decide what to do. Stay or go. Stay. Go.
Alice had wanted to move. Find the campsite, find a way out, do something. No, Lauren had argued, they should stay on high ground. It was safer there. But the wind was wilder there too, slapping against their faces until they were stinging and flushed. When the drizzle started again, even Jill stopped nodding patiently when Lauren spoke. They huddled under a canvas, trying to drip rainwater into a bottle while Alice walked around, waving her phone in the air for as long as they dared. When her battery hit thirty per cent, Jill ordered her to turn it off.
They should stay put, Lauren had tried again, but Alice unfolded the map. They’d crowded around, pointed at paper landmarks as the wind threatened to whip the sheet away. A ridge, a river, a gradient. None matched exactly. They couldn’t agree which peak they were on.
Along one edge of the map ran a vehicle road in the north. If they could bush-bash their way to the road, they could follow it out, Alice said. Lauren had almost laughed. That was so dangerous. So was hypothermia, Alice had replied, staring at her until she’d looked away. In the end, the cold won the argument. Jill announced she couldn’t stand still any longer.
‘Let’s find the road.’ She handed the map to Alice, hesitated, and passed the compass to Lauren. ‘I know you don’t agree, but we’re all stuck in this together.’
They’d shared the mouthful of rainwater collected in the bottle, Bree’s allocated sip only making her thirst worse. Then they had started to walk, ignoring their twisting stomachs and sore limbs.
Bree kept her eyes on the ground, putting one foot after the other. They had been going for nearly three hours when she felt something land with a gentle thump near her boot. She stopped. A tiny egg lay shattered on the ground, its core leaking out, clear and gelatinous. Bree looked up. High above, the branches were rocking in the wind and among them, a small brown bird peered down. It twitched its head. Bree couldn’t tell if it understood what had happened. Would the bird miss its little lost egg, or had it forgotten it already?
Bree could hear her sister approaching from behind, her smoker’s lungs giving her away.
Get some perspective. It’s just a bloody job.
It wasn’t, though. Bree had been twenty-one and four days away from graduating with honours when she’d realised she was pregnant. Her boyfriend of eighteen months, who she’d known had been secretly browsing rings on the Tiffany website, had said nothing for ten minutes while he paced around the kitchen of their student flat. That was one of the things she remembered most clearly. Wishing he’d sit down. Finally, he had and had placed his hand over hers.
‘You’ve worked so hard,’ he said. ‘What about your internship?’ His own internship in New York was due to start four weeks later, followed by a place on a post-graduate law degree course. ‘How many graduates a year does BaileyTennants take again?’
One. BaileyTennants took one graduate a year for its development program. He knew this. That year it would be Bree McKenzie.
‘You’re so excited.’ That was true. She had been thrilled at the prospect. She still was, surely. He had added his other hand at this point, cupping her palm in both of his.
‘It’s mind-blowing. It is. And I love you so much. It’s just –’ His eyes showed true terror. ‘Bad timing.’
At last, she had nodded, and by the next morning, he had helped her schedule the necessary appointment.
‘Our kids will be proud, one day,’ he’d said. He had definitely said ‘our’. She remembered that distinctly. ‘It makes so much sense to get your career under your belt first. You deserve to make the most of your opportunities.’
Yes, she had told herself later, many times. She’d done it for her career and for all those great opportunities lying in store. She had definitely not done it for him. Which was lucky, because he had never once called her again after he left for New York.
Bree looked down now at the smashed egg. Above, the mother bird had disappeared. With her boot, Bree swept some dried leaves over the broken shell. She couldn’t think what else to do.
‘Stop here.’ Jill’s voice floated forward. She was trailing the pack. ‘Let’s rest for a minute.’
‘Here?’ Alice turned and looked back. The trees were still tight, but the path had grown a little wider and no longer disappeared underfoot.
Jill dropped her pack without answering. She was red-faced, her hair sticking out in tufts. She was reaching for something in her jacket pockets when she stopped, her gaze snagging on a broken tree stump at the side of the path.
Without a word, she moved towards it. A pool of rainwater had collected in the bowl of the stump. Jill, who Bree had once seen refuse a herbal tea because the leaves had infused too long, suddenly dipped her cupped hands into the stump, lifted them to her lips and swallowed deeply. She paused to pick something black from her mouth, flicking it off her finger before dipping her hands in again.
Bree swallowed, her own tongue immediately swollen and dry, and stepped up to the stump. She plunged her hands in, the first scoop sloshing over her knuckles as her arm collided with Jill’s. She went in again, lifting her palms to her lips more hastily this time. The water tasted dank and coarse, but she didn’t stop, dipping in again, now jostling for space with four other pairs of hands. Someone pushed her hands out of the way, and Bree shoved back, ignoring the pain as her fingers bent backwards. She plunged in again, fighting for her share, the sound of grunts and swallows loud in her ears. She kept her head down, determined to cram as much into her mouth as possible. Before she realised it, the water was gone, and her fingernails were scraping the mossy bottom.
She stepped back quickly. Her mouth was gritty and she felt unbalanced, like she’d crossed a line she hadn’t known existed. She thought she wasn’t the only one; she could see her surprise and shame echoed on the faces around her. The water churned in her empty stomach and she had to bite her lip to stop herself vomiting.
One by one, they edged further away from the stump, avoiding eye contact. Bree sat down on her pack and watched as Jill pulled one boot off and peeled back her sock. Her heel looked bloodied and raw. Nearby, Lauren was checking the compass for the thousandth time. Bree hoped it was telling her something.
There was the flick of a lighter and the faint hint of cigarette smoke.
‘Seriously, do you really have to do that now?’ Alice said.
‘Yes. That’s why it’s called an addiction.’ Beth didn’t look up, but Bree felt an uneasy ripple run through the group.
‘It’s disgusting, that’s what it is. Put it out.’
Bree could barely smell the smoke.
‘Put it out,’ Alice said again.
Beth looked over this time and blew a long plume of smoke in the air. It hung there, taunting them. In one swift movement, Alice’s hand darted out and grabbed the cigarette packet. She pulled her arm back and hurled it into the bush.
‘Hey!’ Beth was on her feet.
Alice was standing too. ‘Break’s over. Let’s go.’
Beth ignored her and without a backward glance, turned and waded into the long grass, disappearing through the trees.
‘We’re not bloody waiting for you,’ Alice shouted. There was no response, just the tap of water on leaves. The rain had started again. ‘For Christ’s sake. Jill, let’s go. She’ll catch up.’
Bree felt the swell of anger, tempered only by the sight of Jill shaking her head.
‘We’re not leaving anyone, Alice.’ Jill’s voice had an edge Bree hadn’t heard before. ‘So you’d better fin
d her. An apology is in order, too.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘I’m absolutely not.’
‘But –’ Alice started, when there was a shout from behind the solid curtain of bushland.
‘Hey!’ Beth’s voice was muffled. She sounded far away. ‘There’s something back here.’
Chapter 14
The morning sky was a dirty grey when Falk knocked on Carmen’s door. She was packed and waiting. They carried their bags to the carpark, treading carefully where overnight rain had made the path slippery.
‘What did the office have to say?’ Falk reached across their car windscreen and fished out a handful of dead leaves that had caught beneath the wipers.
‘The usual.’ Carmen didn’t need to spell it out. He knew it would have been a virtual repeat of his own conversation the night before. Get the contracts. Get the contracts. She dumped her bag in the car boot. ‘Did you tell King we’re off?’
Falk nodded. After leaving Carmen last night, he’d left a message for the sergeant. The officer had rung back on Falk’s room landline an hour later. They’d exchanged updates – a depressingly short conversation on both sides. It sounded like the lack of progress was taking a toll.
‘Have you lost hope?’ Falk said.
‘Not entirely,’ King said. ‘But it’s feeling more and more like a needle in a haystack.’
‘How long do you keep searching?’
‘We search until there’s no point anymore,’ King said. He didn’t spell out exactly when that would be. ‘But we’ll have to start scaling back if we don’t find anything soon. Keep that to yourself, though.’
Now, in the morning light, Falk could see the tension on the searchers’ faces as a group climbed into the waiting minivan. He dumped his own bag next to Carmen’s and they headed into the lodge.
A different ranger was behind reception, leaning over the desk and issuing instructions to the woman hunched over the ancient visitors’ courtesy computer.
‘Try logging back in again,’ the ranger said.
‘I have. Twice! It won’t let me.’
Lauren, Falk realised. She sounded close to tears. She looked up when she heard them slide their keys across the counter.
‘You’re checking out? Are you driving back to Melbourne?’ She was half out of her seat already. ‘Can you take me? Please, I need to get home. I’ve been trying to find a lift all morning.’
In the harsh morning light, her eyes were red and lined. Falk wasn’t sure whether it was due to lack of sleep or if she’d been crying. Both, perhaps.
‘Sergeant King’s given you the all clear to leave?’
‘Yes, he said I’m allowed.’ She was already at the door. ‘Don’t go without me. Please. I’ll get my bag. Five minutes.’
She disappeared before he could say anything. On the reception counter, Falk noticed a fresh stack of printed fliers. MISSING, was written in bold letters above a reproduction of Alice Russell’s smiling work headshot, along with key details and a description. Below was the last group photo Ian Chase had snapped at the start of the Mirror Falls trail.
Falk looked at it. Jill Bailey stood at the centre, with Alice and Lauren to her left. Bree was on Jill’s right, with Beth a half-step out from the rest of the group. It was easier to make out details on the flier than it had been on Chase’s phone. Every face was smiling, but, on closer inspection, he thought every smile seemed a little forced. With a sigh, he folded up the flier and put it into his jacket pocket.
Carmen used the ranger’s radio and by the time she’d confirmed what Lauren had said with Sergeant King, the woman was back. She stood in the entranceway, clutching her backpack. It was filthy, and Falk realised with a jolt that it would be the same one she’d taken on the retreat.
‘Thank you so much,’ she said, as she followed them across the carpark and climbed into the back seat. She pulled on her seatbelt and sat upright, her hands clutched in her lap. Desperate, Falk realised, to leave.
‘Is everything all right at home?’ he said, starting the engine.
‘I don’t know.’ Lauren’s face creased. ‘Do either of you have kids?’
Falk and Carmen both shook their heads.
‘No. Well, every time you turn your back, there’s bloody something,’ she said, as though that explained it. Falk waited, but she said nothing more.
They passed the marker signalling the official boundary of the park and as they headed into the tiny town, Falk could see the familiar glow of the service station sign up ahead. He checked the gauge and pulled in. It was the same guy behind the counter.
‘They haven’t found her then,’ he said when he saw Falk. It wasn’t a question.
‘Not yet.’ Falk looked at the guy properly for the first time. The beanie cap hid his hair, but his eyebrows and stubble were dark.
‘Haven’t found any of her stuff? Shelter? Bag?’ the man asked, and Falk shook his head. ‘That’s probably a good thing,’ he went on. ‘You find the belongings or shelter, the body’s always next. Always is. You can’t survive without equipment out there. I reckon there’s a good chance they’ll never find her now. Not if there’s been no sign so far.’
‘Well, let’s hope you’re wrong,’ Falk said.
‘I’m not wrong.’ The guy glanced outside. Carmen and Lauren had got out of the car, their arms folded across their chests in the cool air. ‘You planning on coming back this way again?’
‘I don’t know,’ Falk said. ‘If they find her, maybe.’
‘In that case, hope to see you again soon, mate.’
The words had the finality of a funeral.
Falk walked back to the car and got in. The park and the town were ten kilometres behind them before he realised he was well over the speed limit. Neither Carmen nor Lauren objected. When the horizon of the ranges was small in the rear-view mirror, Lauren shifted in the back seat.
‘Apparently they think the cabin we found might have been used by Martin Kovac,’ she said. ‘Did you know that?’
Falk glanced in the mirror. She was staring out of the window, chewing her thumbnail.
‘Who told you that?’
‘Jill. A searcher told her.’
‘I think it’s only a suspicion at this stage. It’s not confirmed.’
Lauren winced and pulled the tip of her thumb from her mouth. The nail was bleeding, a black half-moon crescent welling around the bed. She looked down at it, then started to cry.
Carmen twisted round to hand her a tissue. ‘Do you want to stop? Get some air?’
Falk pulled over on the hard shoulder. The road in both directions was empty. Woodland had finally given way to farmland and he was reminded of the drive out to the ranges. Only two days earlier, but it seemed like a long time ago. It was a week tomorrow since Alice had first plunged into the bushland. We search until there’s no point anymore.
Falk climbed out and got a bottle of water from the car boot for Lauren. The three of them stood by the side of the road as she took a sip.
‘I’m sorry.’ Lauren licked her lips. They were pale and dry. ‘I feel bad leaving while Alice is still out there.’
‘They’d let you know if there was anything you could do,’ Falk said.
‘I know that. And I know –’ She gave a hard little smile. ‘I know Alice would do exactly the same in my position. It doesn’t make it easier though.’ She took another sip of water, her hands a little steadier now. ‘My husband called me. Our daughter’s school is contacting parents. Some photos of a student have been leaked online. Explicit, apparently, whatever exactly that means.’
‘Not of your daughter?’ Carmen said.
‘No. Not Rebecca. She wouldn’t do anything like that. But – I’m sorry, thank you –’ Lauren took the fresh tissue Carmen offered and wiped her eyes. ‘But she had some trouble last year with this kind of t
hing. Not explicit stuff, thank God, but a lot of bullying. Other girls were taking pictures of her getting changed after sport, eating her lunch, stupid things. But they were sharing them on their phones and on social media. Encouraging students from the boys’ school to comment. Rebecca –’ Lauren paused. ‘She’s had a difficult time.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Carmen said.
‘Yes, well, us too. It’s unbelievable really, when I think of the amount I’ve paid to send her to that school. They wrote to us saying they’d disciplined a couple of the girls responsible and held an assembly about respect.’ Lauren wiped her eyes a final time. ‘I’m sorry. When I hear something like this, it brings it all back.’
‘Girls can be real bitches at that age,’ Carmen said. ‘I remember. And school was hard enough even without the internet.’
‘It’s a whole different world, what they get up to now,’ Lauren said. ‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Delete her accounts? Take away her phone? The way she looks at me, I may as well be asking her to cut off her hand.’ She finished the water and wiped her eyes once more. She managed a watery smile. ‘Sorry. I think I just really need to be at home.’
They climbed back in the car and Lauren leaned her head against the window as Falk started the engine. Eventually he could tell from her breathing that she’d fallen asleep. Curled up, she looked like a husk, he thought. Like the bushland had sucked the spirit out of her.
He and Carmen took turns driving and dozing. The rain spots on the windscreen grew lighter the further they travelled, as they left the bush and its weather in their wake. The radio crackled softly as stations came back into range one by one.
‘Hallelujah,’ Carmen said when her phone buzzed. ‘The signal’s back.’
She hunched down in the passenger seat and scrolled through her messages.
‘Jamie looking forward to having you home?’ Falk said, and immediately wondered why he was even asking.
‘Yeah. Well, he will be. He’s away on a course for a couple of days.’ She unconsciously fingered her engagement ring and Falk found himself thinking of the night before. Her long legs unfolding on the bed. He cleared his throat and glanced in the mirror. Lauren was still asleep, a worried frown line still visible between her eyes.
