‘Why don’t you help, then?’
‘I will, once I’ve shown you something. Come on, let me take you to Forget-me-not Well.’ He pushed her in the direction of the ute and yelled over his shoulder, ‘I’ll be back before smoko!’ One of the men gave him a thumbs up before yelling at a dog.
‘What’s so special about Forget-me-not Well? Chris told me a bit about it,’ Eliza said once she was settled in the ute.
‘There are quite a few stories about this place,’ Jacob answered, ‘Some are beautiful and others are quite tragic. But that’s why I think it’d be great for the project—not many people know about it. Raising awareness of mental health issues, as you know, is really important to me.
‘So, I’ll tell you one of the stories. Clara was a local, good friends with Mary. She’d lived here for many years with her husband, Richard, working on stations around here. I don’t know too much about the whole history, more about what happened after Richard was killed.’
‘Bloody hell, how many people have died in this area?’ Eliza exclaimed. ‘That’s all I seem to keep hearing about—tragic stories of untimely deaths. I’m surprised there’s anyone left up here.’
‘That’s a very good point,’ Jacob answered seriously. ‘It’s to do with the tenacity of people who live up here. They’ve refused to quit or become downtrodden by events.
‘And it’s certainly not as bad as it was in previous generations. You’ve got to remember, they didn’t have what we do now. We’ve got air conditioners that help stop the elderly or very young from dying from the temperature; we’ve got CB radios and other types of communication in place if someone goes out and doesn’t return when they should. We’re in a much better time than we were thirty years or more ago.’
He pulled the steering wheel to the left and followed a track along the edge of a hill.
Eliza looked down. ‘Are you sure this is safe?’ she asked in a high, tight voice.
‘Perfectly. I’ve done it so many times, I could do it with my eyes shut.’
‘Do me a favour and don’t do that with me in the car!’ She looked down and took a breath as an old man emu and five chicks ran down the hill.
This place was so raw. Maybe that was what had drawn her here. It wasn’t the people or the land itself, but the fact it was untouched. It was pure and genuine, the things she had been looking for. There was nothing fake about it.
Jacob continued with his story. ‘To cut a long story short, Richard was killed outside the pub in Blinman. No one is really sure what happened, but he was beaten to death. There was talk of a gambling debt, and the collectors going too far, but that was just gossip.
‘Anyway, Clara never recovered from his death. Most of the older couples up here are joined at the hip. Take Mary and John, for instance. They’ve been married over fifty years and they couldn’t imagine life without each other. Back then marriages rarely broke up, even if couples weren’t happy; they didn’t throw things away the way we do today. So Clara and Richard were very close. That’s what Mary told me anyway.
‘After Richard died, all Clara did was work too hard and make herself sick. She ended up a shell of her former self. Mary showed me photos of her—she was gaunt and her eyes had lost their spark. I think Richard’s death killed her too; it sucked her life away.
‘Forget-me-not Well was where she and Richard got married, and it was where she was found. Dead.’
Eliza put her hand over her mouth and shut her eyes. ‘Did she die of a broken heart?’
‘I suppose no one will ever know how she died. Suicide was suspected—I mean, a lady doesn’t just sit down next to a well and die, does she?’ He glanced over at her. ‘But it was a few days before she was found and the middle of summer . . . if you get my meaning. Dessie buried her, and he was so cut up that he hadn’t been able to be there for Clara.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘I always wondered if it was a little bit like the Aborigines when they point the bone at someone. Could she have wished herself dead?’
They looked at each other for a moment, Eliza trying to understand loving someone so much that death seemed preferable to life without them.
She wasn’t sure she could.
‘That’s just horrible.’ Eliza frowned. ‘Well, why the bloody hell are we including it on the list? It’s a sacred site of sorts.’ She looked at Jacob as if he’d lost his mind.
‘But don’t you see?’ He turned to her. ‘She was grieving for her husband and didn’t get over it. There weren’t many services out here then. Dessie was it and he might only get here once a year. Roads weren’t as good, and he had places further away to travel to. We’re raising money for Frontier Services and this is the perfect place, with the perfect story behind it, to make people understand.’
Jacob pulled the ute to a halt and got out.
Eliza remained in her seat for a moment, looking around. The country was different from anything she’d seen. The plain was open. She could imagine the barrenness of the place in dry summers. An image of shimmering heat rising from the earth, and nothing but blue skies, with crows cawing overhead, flashed into her mind.
What Eliza saw now, however, was patchy green grass and bushes. Underneath it was red earth and stones. When she looked across the land, she could see a fence stretching out into the distance, and just in front of her was a structure she couldn’t make sense of: cut logs of wood forming a square, as if they were bordering something. To one side of it was a grove of trees, which looked like they’d been planted, because they were in a semicircle. Chris had told her about them.
Slowly, she got out of the car and moved towards the structure. She was aware of Jacob speaking, but couldn’t make out his words. All she could take in was the square of logs in front of her.
Swallowing hard, she turned to Jacob.
‘What’s this place?’ she asked, her voice hoarse.
He answered, looking at her strangely. ‘It’s Forget-me-not Well.’
Chapter 22
Dave pulled up in front of the general store, hoping that only Reen was there. He was pretty sure he would get short shrift if Eliza was.
As he got out of the car and looked around, he was pleased to see a group waiting to tour the mine. Everything in the town depended on tourism, apart from the farmers patronising the pub every weekend and buying meals from the store as they were passing through.
He waved to Gillian, who was the mine tour guide as well as the Cornish pasties chef, before heading up the steps into the shop. He paused briefly, trying to get his thoughts in order, then pushed open the door, a large smile on his face.
Behind the counter, Reen looked up, smiling in return.
‘Well. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,’ she said. ‘Got Kim with you?’
‘G’day, Reen. Not this time. How are you?’
‘Going along just fine.’ She went over to the coffee machine and started to make a long black, knowing that was how Dave liked his coffee.
‘Better make one for yourself,’ he said in a serious tone.
Reen glanced up, and got out a second cup and saucer.
They sat on the verandah, looking out across the empty road. The mine tour had left, and now the town was settled and quiet, with a few four-wheel drives and camper trucks parked in the street, awaiting their owners.
‘Been busy?’ Dave asked as he took a sip of coffee.
‘Just starting to pick up. In the next couple of weeks, things’ll get much busier. We’re only three weeks out from the cook-off. You know how crazy things get around here then.’
‘Madhouse,’ Dave agreed. ‘Eliza much help?’
‘Absolutely. I don’t know how I managed without her.’ Reen paused. ‘I know I always managed, but she seems to know when my body aches and just takes over without me asking. I love having her around.’
‘That’s really good,’ Dave said.
A magpie flew down and started to strut around like it owned the town. A gentle breeze touched their faces and the leaves of the
cypress pines swished together.
‘Got some problems up this way?’ Reen finally asked. ‘Unusual for you to be up here so much.’
Dave took a while to answer, finally saying: ‘Got some intel that doesn’t make any sense. Well, there’s not enough to make sense of it yet. I’ll have to investigate further.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Seen anything odd around here at night?’
‘At night? No. Lord, what do you think I am? I’m in bed by eight, if I can be!’
Dave gave a small smile. ‘I know. It’s a long shot, but I thought I’d ask. You know, anything different, people acting out of character, cars where they shouldn’t be. That sort of stuff.’
‘Nothing ever goes on around here, Dave,’ Reen scoffed, but then her eyes widened. ‘Oh yeah! Eliza came in last week and said she’d seen a vehicle—a four-wheel drive type car—with antennas all over it. She was out walking, taking photos in the dark, and it passed her. Whoever was driving couldn’t have seen her because they just drove right on by. But it was enough to prick her interest. The way she described it, it sounded like one of those cars they use to track animals.’
‘Where was this?’
‘I’m not sure she actually said, but I’m assuming it was on the Blinman and Parachilna roads.’
‘Why would she have been out there at night?’ Dave asked, looking across the street.
‘Because it was a nice night for taking photographs and that’s what she likes to do.’
‘Hmm,’ Dave responded, before putting the cup to his lips again. He turned his head as a vehicle entered the town limits and pulled up at the store. ‘I’ll be waiting here when you’ve finished,’ he said.
Reen raised her eyebrows at him, but didn’t say anything. As people got out of the car, she shot Dave an inquisitive look before heading into the shop to serve the new customers.
Half an hour later, she was able to sit back down with him. Two coffees in hand, she headed out the front and placed one in front of him.
‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’ She leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs. ‘Want to tell me what’s going on?’
‘Yes and no.’ He sat still, knowing Reen wouldn’t ask anything more until he started to talk. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded it before handing it to her. It was a photo of Ashleigh Alberto.
She took it, looked at it and handed it back, her face set.
‘So you agree it’s her?’ he asked.
Reen raised her chin defiantly. ‘I know Eliza ran away from a very unhappy marriage. If that makes her a criminal, so be it, but I don’t think you should make any judgement until you’ve spoken to her.’
Dave nodded. ‘I won’t. And I sort of figured that was the case. She’s got that scar on her cheek, which isn’t in any of her missing persons photos. That, along with her weight loss, and hair change, made me think there was a lot more to the story than we were being told.’
‘You’re right. And as for that claim of mental instability, that should be put back onto the ex,’ Reen snapped.
Dave nodded slightly. ‘Okay, so let me put this to you. Eliza turns up, without any good reason.’
Reen opened her mouth to say something but Dave kept talking. ‘Okay, other than an unhappy marriage. She gets involved in the community, starts to do good things to help everyone out, and then I get some intel that there’s wildlife smuggling going on in the area. You’ve just told me she’s been out and about, walking at night.’ He took another sip of his coffee.
‘Wildlife smuggling,’ Reen said softly. ‘Are you joking?’
‘Unfortunately not.’
‘And you’re wanting to implicate Eliza?’
‘Not necessarily. Only if she’s involved. I just found it very coincidental that she appeared and then suddenly I started getting these reports. And think about this, Reen. The reports are coming from New South Wales, which is where you’ve just confirmed she’s come from. In my line of work, coincidences are rarely just coincidences.’
‘I can’t see her involved in that, Dave. Yes, she’s on the run from her ex—who beat her black and blue, I might add—certainly. Wildlife poaching? I think you’re stretching it a bit.’
‘How do you know she’s not lying? After all, she’s lied the whole time she’s been here.’
Reen slammed her hands down on the wooden table and glared at him, her eyes steely. ‘That’s a bit of a stretch and you know it. She’s hiding. She doesn’t want to be found. If she said her name was Eliza instead of Ashleigh, so be it. If that makes her a liar, fine, but it doesn’t change her personality.’
Dave glanced down at his hands and a silence stretched between them.
‘Okay then,’ he said finally. ‘So, other than this car that, once again, Eliza told you about, you haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary?’
Reen, visibly calmer, took a breath and shook her head. ‘It’s really been pretty boring around here for a while.’
Dave pursed his lips. ‘Okay.’ He paused again, thinking. ‘Okay,’ he said again.
‘Can you tell me anything else?’ Reen asked.
‘Only that the animals or reptiles, eggs, or whatever they’re poaching, are coming from the Flinders. There’s no indication of whether it’s from the park—which would be obvious because there are tracks and people coming and going all the time there—or if it’s the surrounds. No one mentioned anything about having strange visitors?’
‘Not that I’ve heard of,’ said Reen, shifting in her seat as she tried to think. ‘But . . .’ She looked at Dave. ‘I’ll tell you what Eliza and I did see when we were on our way to Port Augusta a couple of days ago. There was a caravan parked on the side of the road, with all sorts of boxes and foam eskies around it. I thought it was weird at the time, but not enough to stop or give you a call.’
‘How many boxes and eskies?’ Dave asked as he got out his notebook.
‘I couldn’t be sure, but enough for me to know that they wouldn’t have easily fitted into a caravan.’
‘Make and model?’
‘Ah, shit.’ Reen thought for a moment. ‘I know it was a white four-wheel drive and what I’m seeing in my mind is like an old-style Toyota Landcruiser, square front, not like the new Prados. Do you know what I mean?’
Dave nodded. ‘Caravan?’
‘White and big with stripes. That’s as much as I can tell you. I was looking more at the boxes surrounding it, wondering what on earth had gone wrong to have to haul so much stuff out of the van.’
‘That’s great, thanks.’ Dave looked as if he were about to get up, but Reen put her hand on his arm.
‘Are you going to call Eliza in?’
Dave leaned back in his chair and exhaled. ‘I should. And I should do it right away. But, like I said, I think there’s more to this story than is coming across the airwaves from the New South Wales police. There’s a bit of info filtering through that the copper in Jindabyne is bent. He’s on the inside circle of the ex and that in itself is concerning when I go back and read all the reports.’
Reen nodded, relief crossing her face.
‘But, Reen, if I talk to her and something else—like the smuggling—comes to light, then, yeah, I’ll have to turn her in. I’m sorry.’
‘But you don’t really think she’s got anything to do with this, um, poaching?’
Dave gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘I just answered that question, Reen.’
She looked out across the street. Laughter came from a young couple leaving the pub and getting into their car. They reversed out and drove past the store, flicking them both a wave as they went.
Dave knew that Reen couldn’t smile back. For the first time in their friendship, he’d broken her heart.
Chapter 23
Dominic looked at the people stretched out along the lake’s edge. There were hundreds, all holding candles. There were placards with ‘Come home, Ashleigh!’ and ‘We love you,
Ashleigh!’ written on them.
He spotted a TV camera to one side and hid a smile. Okay, this was going better than he’d hoped. When all the money in the world couldn’t get him an interview with a women’s magazine, a few old church ladies could pull off a spectacle like this.
He felt a presence at his shoulder and turned slightly. Simon was standing there.
Neither man said anything, just stood shoulder to shoulder. If it had been a week ago, Dominic would have thought it was in a show of solidarity, but he sensed a change in Simon and wondered if it was a show of defiance.
‘Dominic, it’s good to see you,’ said a soft voice from behind him.
He recognised the voice and rearranged his features before he turned around.
‘Pastor Hunter,’ he said in a gravelly voice. ‘Thank you. For doing this . . .’ He made his voice crack and looked down at the ground.
‘You’re welcome.’ The pastor put a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘Would you like to follow me to the front?’
Dominic obeyed, feeling like he was going to a funeral. They weaved their way through the crowd and people stopped talking as they walked by. He could feel their eyes on him.
‘Do you think he murdered her?’
Fighting the urge to look over to see who had whispered the question, he kept his head down and walked on.
‘Mr Alberto! Mr Alberto!’
A man with a microphone rushed over to him, pushing his way through the crowd.
‘Mr Alberto, do you know where your wife is?’
‘Not now, sir,’ Pastor Hunter held up his hand and lightly pushed the man away.
‘Mr Alberto, do you know why your wife ran away? Did you do something to her?’
Anger knotted Dominic’s stomach. Why was it assumed that he’d done something to her? Didn’t they see he was the victim here? He’d given her a life, a family, a history. She was the one who had chosen to run away. She was the one who had made a statement by leaving her wedding rings behind and taking his most precious possession.
He ignored the small voice that reminded him he was the one who had hit her. After all, that’s what happened to people who don’t behave the way they should. Whether it was young children or adults, a good lashing never hurt anyone.
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