The Dry (Aaron Falk #1)(10)
“It died,” Luke said. His mouth was a tight line. He didn’t meet Aaron’s gaze.
“How?”
“I don’t know. It just did.”
Aaron asked a few more times but never got a different answer. The rabbit lay on its side, perfect but unmoving, its eyes black and vacant.
“Just think about it,” Barb had said as Falk had left their home. Instead, as he drove down those long country roads, the dead animal still fresh under his wheels, Falk couldn’t stop thinking about Ellie Deacon and their teenage gang of four. And whether Ellie’s dark eyes had looked as vacant after the water had finished filling her lungs.
4
The yellow police tape was still hanging in strips around the door of Luke Hadler’s farmhouse. It caught the morning light as Falk parked next to the police car on a patch of dead grass out front. The sun was still some way from its peak position, but Falk’s skin was already tingling from the heat as he got out of the car. He put his hat on and surveyed the house. He hadn’t needed directions. He’d spent almost as much time at that house growing up as he had at his own.
Luke hadn’t changed much about the place since he’d taken it over from his parents, Falk thought as he rang the bell. The chime echoed deep inside, and he was struck by the feeling of having traveled back in time. He felt such an uneasy certainty that a cocky sixteen-year-old would swing open the door that he almost took a step back.
Nothing moved. Windows shrouded by closed curtains gazed out like a pair of blinded eyes.
Falk had lain awake for most of the night thinking about what Gerry had said. In the morning he’d rung and told Gerry he could stay in town a day or two. Only until the weekend. It was Thursday. He was expected back at work on Monday. But in the meantime, he would go to Luke’s farm. He would look at the financials for Barb. It was the least he could do. Gerry’s tone made it clear he agreed. It was almost literally the least Falk could do.
Falk waited for a moment, then made his way around the side of the building. The sky loomed huge and blue over yellow fields. In the distance, a wire fence kept a shadowy tangle of bushland at bay. The property was very isolated, Falk noticed properly for the first time. It had always felt full of life when he was young. His own childhood home may only have been a short bike ride away, but it was completely invisible somewhere over the horizon. Looking around now, only one other house was in sight: a sprawling gray building hunched on the side of a distant hill.
Ellie’s house.
Falk wondered if her father and cousin still lived up there, and instinctively turned his head away. He wandered through the yard until he found Sergeant Greg Raco in the biggest of three barns.
The officer was on his hands and knees in the corner, rummaging through a pile of old boxes. A redback, nestled still and shiny in her web, was ignoring the activity two meters away from her. Falk rapped on the metal door, and Raco twisted around, his face streaked with dust and sweat.
“Jesus, you gave me a start. Didn’t hear anyone coming.”
“Sorry. Aaron Falk. I’m a friend of the Hadlers’. Your receptionist said you were here.” He pointed to the redback. “You see that, by the way?”
“Yeah. Thanks. There are a couple around.”
Raco stood and pulled off his work gloves. He attempted to brush the grime off his navy uniform trousers but gave up, as it made things worse. His neatly pressed shirt had sweat rings under the arms. He was shorter than Falk and built like a boxer, with curls cut close to his scalp. His skin was Mediterranean olive, but his accent was pure country Australian. He had a lift to his eyes that made him look like he was smiling even when he wasn’t. Falk knew, because he wasn’t smiling now.
“Gerry Hadler called and said something about you stopping by,” Raco said. “Sorry to do this, mate, but you got some ID? Had a few nut jobs prowling around. Sight-seeing or something, I don’t know.”
Up close, he was older than Falk had first thought. Maybe thirty. Falk noticed the sergeant discreetly check him over. Open yet cautious. Fair enough. Falk handed over his driver’s license. Raco took it like he’d been expecting something else.
“I thought Gerry said you were a cop.”
“Just here in a personal capacity,” Falk said.
“So not officially.”
“Not at all.” Something flashed across Raco’s face that Falk couldn’t read. He truly hoped this wasn’t going to descend into a pissing contest. “I’m an old mate of Luke’s. Back when we were teenagers.”
Raco looked at the license carefully before handing it back.
“Gerry said you needed access to the bank statements. Account books, stuff like that?”
“Sounds about right.”
“Something going on there I should know about?”
“Barb asked me to have a look,” Falk said. “As a favor.”
“Right.” Despite being several centimeters shorter, Raco almost managed to look Falk straight in the eye. “Look, if Gerry and Barb say you’re good, I’m not going to stuff you around for the sake of it. But they’re pretty vulnerable right now, so you come across anything I need to hear, you make sure I hear it. Yeah?”
“No worries. Just here to help them out.”
Falk couldn’t help glancing over Raco’s shoulder. The cavernous barn was swelteringly hot, and plastic skylights gave everything a sickly yellow tinge. A tractor stood idle in the middle of the concrete floor, and various bits of machinery Falk couldn’t identify lined the walls. A hose attachment snaked out of the nearest one near his feet. He thought it might be for milking but wasn’t sure. He would have known once. Now it all looked vaguely like instruments of torture to his city eye. Falk nodded toward the boxes in the corner.