The Boundary Fence (A Woodlea Novel, #7)

by Alissa Callen

  After finding the right-sized screwdriver in his tool box, he removed the strip of wood covering the top metal door track. He then unscrewed the two rollers that attached the door to the track and lifted the wooden door free.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong here,’ he said, casting an eye over the door edges.

  Ella didn’t appear to hear him. Instead she was on her knees, her arm stuck into the cavity as if reaching for something. She sat back and slowly pulled out what looked like a concertinaed book. Attached to the corner was a piece of fishing line with a flat bead secured to its end.

  Her wide eyes met his before she carried the book over to the living room coffee table and carefully laid it across the top. ‘This could be Libby’s or Annette’s.’

  He studied the book. ‘When dry it would have been the perfect thickness to sit inside the cavity and still allow the door to slide in and out.’

  Ella touched the glossy bead. ‘All anyone would have had to do was feel inside, find this and pull the book out.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘I’m not sure if I’m game to open it. What if there’s something in here that will only cause Violet more pain?’

  ‘There could also be something that gives her some answers.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Ella leaned forward and carefully peeled back the wet cardboard cover.

  The book was a sketchbook and on the first page was a hand-drawn pencil sketch of a dog with a signature below.

  ‘It’s Libby’s.’ Ella’s voice was little more than a whisper.

  She turned the next fragile page, making sure the wet paper didn’t tear. This time the drawing was of a horse and the title read Mrs Potts. Again Libby’s name was printed underneath.

  ‘She did love her animals just like Violet described,’ Ella said, her voice still hushed.

  With every turn of the page the water damage lessened and the pages grew less translucent. After three more drawings of farm animals, a cluster of pages had been torn out. The next drawing appeared to be a self-portrait but it was only half-finished. The following image was of a youth on a motorbike, then two more of the same boy with a fishing rod and kicking a football.

  She rubbed at her arms. ‘I have goosebumps.’

  Saul nodded. The early drawings had been sketched with light strokes, whereas these last ones were dark as though they were drawn with a desperate intensity.

  Ella smoothed open the book to the page of the final drawing. Silent, they stared.

  This sketch was again of the same youth but it was a close-up impression of his face. Libby had been a talented artist. The portrait looked realistic, and the level of detail would have required a considerable amount of time to complete. It wasn’t the quality of the drawing that had him and Ella look at each other. The words didn’t need to be verbalised that they needed to see Violet.

  This middle section of the book had been untouched by water except for a narrow section at the bottom. But the image was water-damaged. Blurring the fine pencilled lines were smudges that could only have come from the tracks of tears.

  CHAPTER

  8

  The drive to Violet’s had never felt so long.

  Ella snuck a sideways glance at the man sitting beside her, his attention on the road. Saul’s relaxed hold on the steering wheel didn’t match the clenched line of his jaw. His thoughts were churning as much as hers were.

  She looked through the windscreen at the growing shadows. She’d turned on the veranda light in case they weren’t back before dark. It seemed an indulgence to take two vehicles, so when Saul offered to drive after he’d dropped Duke home, she’d agreed. All her reasons for staying away from him seemed trivial in the face of what they needed to talk to Violet about.

  The sketchbook could either raise Violet’s hopes, cause her unnecessary pain or prove a dead end. Even if she couldn’t think of a credible reason, there might be a simple explanation for the tear-soaked picture drawn with such care.

  She glanced at Saul again. ‘Do we need a game plan?’

  He gave her a half smile. ‘No, unless you’d like one?’

  She hesitated. The answer was yes. Ever since she’d lost her brother and then her parents had divorced, she preferred to have a plan. It was only after she’d returned from England and fought to put her life back together that they’d become a necessity. She didn’t cope well with uncertainty or the unexpected. But there was something about Saul’s understated self-assurance that had her shake her head.

  As grave and withdrawn as he could be, she’d seen the warmth and empathy with which he treated Violet. Saul would be able to handle whatever happened once they showed Violet Libby’s sketchbook. This gave her the confidence that she would cope too. She swallowed. Even if she didn’t have her usual game plan as a safety net.

  Whenever she drove into town she kept watch for any new yarn-bombing but this time she didn’t glance at the streetscape. The amount of dusty cars they’d passed on the roads said Woodlea was in for a busy Saturday night. She could only hope they weren’t about to ruin Violet’s quiet evening. She’d already suffered enough.

  Saul parked outside Woodlea Lodge and looked across at her as he unclipped his seatbelt. ‘Everything will be okay. Violet’s made of sterner stuff.’

  ‘She is.’ Realising that her hands were shaking where they held the black plastic folder containing the sketchbook, she lowered the folder to her lap.

  ‘Ella?’ His tone was low.

  The trembling of her fingers transferred to her knees. Now it was her turn to provide an explanation. Otherwise her over-the-top reaction at having to talk to Violet would undo all the hard work she’d done proving to Saul that the weakness he’d witnessed at the wedding was an aberration. She was nothing but in control.

  She spoke without looking at him as the memory flooded back of her mother collapsing on the floor holding Aiden’s shirt. ‘My brother went missing before he was found … My parents didn’t cope well then, or ever again. Anything of his, however small, was always a trigger.’

  The warm clasp of Saul’s fingers on hers steadied her tremors. ‘I don’t know of a single parent who would deal well with the loss of a child. I’ll talk to Violet if you like?’

  There was a bleakness to his tone at odds with the steady hold of his hand.

  ‘Thank you, but I’m not backing out now.’

  He nodded and his hand left hers. She turned to undo her seatbelt to hide how even his light touch had stripped off yet another layer of her armour. There’d been so much care and empathy in the way he’d comforted her.

  They walked to Violet’s door in silence. Ella was about to whisper something when the door swung open.

  ‘I always know the sound of your truck, Saul. How lovely you’re here too, Ella. Doesn’t your hair look smart?’

  Ella tucked the short strands brushing her cheek behind her ear. Since finding the sketchbook she’d forgotten about her earlier visit to Taylor.

  Violet looked between the two of them and then at the folder Ella held. ‘You have something to tell me, haven’t you?’

  Saul nodded.

  Violet’s smile didn’t waver even though it shone a little less bright. ‘Well then, I’d better put the kettle on.’

  When the teapot was sitting on the table in front of them, and steam curled from their teacups, Ella turned to Violet. ‘I had a little air-conditioning drama this afternoon, which is nothing to worry about, but in the clean-up we found this in the sliding door cavity.’

  She carefully took the sketchbook out of the folder.

  Violet didn’t move or take her attention from off the book. ‘It was in where the sliding door goes?’

  Ella nodded.

  ‘It has to be Libby’s,’ Violet said, her words barely audible.

  ‘It is.’ Saul’s confirmation emerged calm and quiet. ‘But you don’t have to look at it now.’

  Violet sat a little straighter before reaching out to rest her shaking fingers on the sketchbook. She slowly slid it
closer. ‘I want to.’

  Ella swapped a glance with Saul as Violet opened the cover. Violet covered her mouth with an unsteady hand but continued to turn the pages. When she reached the one of the young man on the motorbike her hand lowered and she frowned. Without a word she left the table and hobbled to a sideboard. When she slid out a heavy photograph album Saul went to help her carry it to the table.

  She flicked through the pages and then opened the album to a young man who stood beside a red-and-white motorbike with his arm around a teenage girl with long brown hair. From the photos Violet had displayed in silver frames, Ella knew the girl was Libby’s older sister, Annette. Even though Libby was shorter and fine-boned, the girls could have been twins with their similar colouring and heart-shaped faces.

  Violet tapped the photo, her mouth hard. ‘That’s Jeb. The only good thing he ever did was give me my granddaughter.’ She glanced at the sketchbook. ‘Are there more of him?’

  Ella answered. ‘There are.’

  Violet took her time to look at each drawing and when she came to the last sketch smudged by Libby’s tears, her shoulders bowed. She’d come to the same conclusion Ella and Saul had. Libby had harboured feelings for the boy in the picture.

  Violet rubbed at her temple. ‘All this time I thought Libby disliked Jeb as much as Lloyd and I did. He was always giving her a hard time about being a baby and not wearing makeup or having a boyfriend.’

  ‘What was his story?’ Saul’s question had a taut edge to it.

  ‘He didn’t have a father and his mother worked two jobs to make sure he had everything he wanted. Annette lost all sense when around him.’ Violet’s sigh was long and shuddering. ‘The sleep we missed when she wouldn’t come home. The fights we’d have over her being grounded … and as for her drinking …’ Violet closed her eyes. ‘You can guess the rest. It wasn’t long after we lost Libby that one morning Annette felt too unwell to eat breakfast. Gemma arrived nine months later.’

  Saul voiced the question Ella was about to ask. ‘Did Jeb stick around?’

  ‘Until Gem was one. Annette never finished school and they’d gone to Queensland where he’d found work in a mine. When he lost their savings gambling in the pub she took Gem and went to Brisbane to my sister. Jeb refused to follow. Eventually Annette reconnected with an old school friend from here, who’d been a lovely boy, and they were married. He’s the only father Gem can remember.’

  Ella stared at the photograph and the arrogant expression on Jeb’s good-looking young face. To a shy and sensitive girl like Libby who didn’t have much experience with boys, she’d have not viewed Jeb in the same way that Violet and Lloyd had. She’d have only seen the picture Annette would have painted of how cool he was and the fun and grown-up things they were doing. ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘It’s anyone’s guess. Gemma didn’t even hear from him when Annette died. Annette once said he’d started another family and still lived in Queensland.’

  Ella chose her words carefully. ‘Would you like me to try and find him?’

  Violet didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes. I’m certain Gemma doesn’t know where he is. His last name is Irvine. I want to know exactly what was going on between him and my Libby.’

  Ella finished her tea and across the table saw Saul do the same. Violet’s voice had sounded thin and tired. It was time to leave.

  After the table was cleared, Ella kissed Violet’s cheek. The older woman always shooed her out before she could wash the teacups and for once she didn’t feel guilty about leaving. The familiar task of washing up would give Violet something to do while she processed today’s news. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I discover anything.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Saul gave Violet a gentle hug. ‘Duke and I will see you soon.’

  The drive home started off in silence, then Saul spoke, his tone grim. ‘If Jeb hasn’t learned a lesson or two about how to treat people he’ll be getting one from me.’

  ‘From you and me both. Do you think he has anything to do with Libby’s disappearance?’

  ‘My gut tells me he does.’

  ‘Mine too. The sketchbook was hidden so well, there’s far more to the Libby and Jeb story.’

  When silence settled between them, she sent Fliss a quick text before stifling a yawn.

  Saul glanced at her. ‘It’s been a big day.’

  She looked outside to where darkness pressed against the windows and lights glittered in the distance from an oncoming car. ‘I’m looking forward to tomorrow being boring and uneventful.’

  Saul’s chuckle was low and deep and she wished she could see his face in the poor light. He needed to laugh more often.

  Her phone chimed and she read the text. ‘Fliss will help me look for Jeb online tomorrow. She knows all the tricks from when she was searching for the missing branch of her family tree.’

  ‘Let me know what you find.’

  She nodded, now glad that the gloom masked her expression just as much as it did Saul’s. The injured bison and the hay bale challenge had provided a common goal for the two of them to work towards. Just when she should be having some Saul-free time, their quest to help Violet now brought them together again.

  Her hold tightened on her phone. She’d be lying if she said this didn’t make her feel relieved, as much as it terrified her. The cracks in her defences were already showing. Saul knew more about her past than the whole of Woodlea. Tonight she’d then had further proof of his empathy and compassion and that beneath his reserve existed a good heart.

  When Saul pulled up outside the carport, she sent him her practised smile that gave no hint of her emotions. ‘Thanks for the lift. Fingers crossed we’ll know more about Jeb tomorrow.’

  ‘For Violet’s and Libby’s sake, I hope so.’

  The memory of his gone-too-soon grin remained with her long after the sound of his car tyres faded and the cottage grew silent and dark.

  By the time Fliss arrived at mid-morning the next day, Ella had done a quick internet search for any information about Jeb Irvine. Even though she was lucky his surname hadn’t been a common one like Smith, he didn’t appear to have any social media accounts or online footprint. He was going to be a hard man to track down.

  When the doorbell rang she made a note in the notebook that sat beside her laptop before going to check the thermostat on the air conditioner control panel. So far the air conditioner was behaving itself and keeping the cottage lovely and cool. She’d left a terse message on Doug Jones’s phone and didn’t expect him to call her back.

  She met Fliss at the back door.

  ‘Morning.’ Fliss greeted her with a hug. ‘Your hair looks fabulous.’

  ‘Thanks. I haven’t even looked in a mirror today let alone done anything with it.’

  Ella led the way into the kitchen. ‘Cuppa?’

  ‘I’d love one.’ Fliss handed her a container filled with a single layer of raspberry muffins. ‘There were more but Hewitt’s such a sucker for Molly’s I’m-having-puppies look that he sneaks her food even when my back’s not turned.’

  ‘I can’t wait until Molly’s puppies arrive and you and Hewitt have to bring them in to see me.’

  It was heartwarming to see focused and driven Fliss relaxed and comfortable amongst disorder and mess.

  Fliss groaned but her hazel eyes were alight with laughter. ‘It will be chaos just like last time. I’m still looking for my missing boot.’

  As Ella went to put the kettle on and to find a plate for the muffins, Fliss sat at the table and opened the laptop she’d brought with her.

  Instead of typing in the password to unlock the computer, Fliss studied Ella. ‘It’s not only your shorter hair that looks good—you do too. When you came back from the bushfires, you looked exhausted.’

  ‘I felt like I’d aged ten years.’

  Sympathy softened Fliss’s mouth. ‘It would have been a challenging time. You also work far too hard.’

  Ella smiled and leaned back against the ki
tchen bench while the kettle boiled. ‘Like someone else I know.’

  Fliss returned her smile but her expression grew serious. ‘It was great to see you at the dessert night. I’ve missed you. We’ve all missed you.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry I’ve been keeping to myself. I just had some things to work through but everything’s okay now.’ She ignored the memory of Saul’s denim-blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when his mouth curved in a full smile.

  ‘I’m here anytime you need to talk.’

  ‘Thank you. Likewise.’

  The whistle of the kettle sounded and Ella turned to reach for the container holding the English breakfast tea bags. She could only hope Fliss thought the things that she’d needed to process were a result of being emotionally and physically drained from work and not anything to do with Saul. She hadn’t missed the way, before Cressy and Denham’s wedding ceremony, Fliss had been so focused on the two of them that Taylor had been able to apply some sneaky hairspray to Fliss’s sleek bun.

  After she’d spooned hot chocolate into Fliss’s mug, she glanced at the local doctor. Fliss’s attention had remained on her.

  ‘How are the wedding plans coming along?’ Ella asked, as a diversion. Not that she expected Fliss to give her an in-depth answer. Fliss was keeping everything secret. When things were in place, and she was ready to say more, Ella had no doubt the plans would be spectacular. The rustic country wedding she’d planned for Cressy had run like clockwork and had been a perfect reflection of who Cressy and Denham were. So far all anyone knew about Fliss and Hewitt’s wedding was that it would be in summer, as Cressy was to be maid of honour, and Fliss and Hewitt wanted to give baby Rigby time to grow.

  Fliss’s eyes twinkled. ‘They’re going well and much better than your Edna party plans.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ Ella set Fliss’s hot chocolate and her tea beside the plate of muffins on the table. ‘As Edna basically organises every town social event it’s impossible to think of a way to put one on without her knowing.’ Ella took her seat and as she looked across at Fliss she lifted a brow. ‘Unless … we combine it with something that’s already on?’