The Dry (Aaron Falk #1)(48)

“I’m so sorry, Gretch,” Falk said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “If it helps at all, no one called me either. I found out when I saw his face on a news site.” Falk could still feel the shock at seeing those familiar features attached to that terrible headline.

Gretchen nodded, and her gaze suddenly focused on something over his shoulder. Her expression clouded, and she hastily wiped her eyes.

“Christ, watch out. Incoming,” she said. “Mandy Vaser. You remember her? It was Mandy Mantel back then. Jesus, I cannot be bothered with this right now.”

Falk turned. The sharp-faced, ginger-haired girl he remembered as Mandy Mantel had morphed into a neat, tiny woman with a shiny red bob. She had a baby strapped to her chest in a complicated sling that looked like it would be made from natural fibers and advertised as “organic.” Her face was still sharp as she marched across the yellow grass.

“She married Tim Vaser. He was a year or two above us,” Gretchen whispered as she approached. “She’s got a couple of kids in the school. Also got her hands full as the self-appointed spokeswoman of the anxious mothers’ group.”

Mandy stopped in front of them. She looked from Falk to the ham sandwich he was holding and back again, her lip curled in distaste.

“Hi, Mandy,” he said. She pointedly ignored him, other than to place a protective hand around the back of her baby’s skull, shielding it from his greeting.

“Gretchen. Sorry to interrupt.” She sounded nothing of the sort. “Could you pop over to our table for a moment? Just a quiet word.” Her eyes flicked smartly to Falk, then away.

“Mandy,” Gretchen said without enthusiasm. “You remember Aaron? From the old days? He’s with the AFP now.” She emphasized the last words.

He and Mandy had kissed once, Falk remembered. At a youth disco, from what he could recall. She had surprised him by poking her fourteen-year-old tongue deep into his mouth, tasting strongly of cheap lemonade as mood lighting glowed against the walls of the school gym and a stereo blared in the corner. He wondered if she remembered. From the way she crinkled her brow and avoided eye contact, he was certain that she did.

“Nice to see you again.” Falk held out his hand, not because he particularly wanted to shake hers but because he could tell it would make her uncomfortable. She stared at it, making a visible effort to resist the automatic polite response. She succeeded and left him hanging in midair. He almost respected her a little bit for that.

“Gretchen.” Mandy was losing patience. “A word?”

Gretchen looked her straight in the eyes. She made no attempt to move.

“The sooner you say it, Mandy, the sooner I can tell you to mind your own business, and we can all get back to our Sundays.”

Mandy stiffened. She glanced over her shoulder to where a gang of mothers with similar hairstyles were watching from behind sunglasses.

“All right. Fine. I—we—don’t feel comfortable with Aar—with your friend—being so close to our children.” She looked straight at Falk. “We’d like you to leave.”

“Noted,” Gretchen said.

“So he’ll leave?”

“No,” Falk and Gretchen said in unison.

Falk actually thought it probably was about time he headed to the station to find Raco, but he wasn’t about to be pushed around by Mandy bloody Mantel. Mandy’s eyes narrowed. She leaned in.

“Listen,” she said. “At the moment it’s me and the mums asking politely. But it can easily be the dads asking not so politely if you’d find that message easier to understand.”

“Mandy, for God’s sake,” Gretchen snapped. “He’s police. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, and we also all heard what he did to Ellie Deacon.” Around the playground, parents were looking on. “Seriously, Gretchen, you can’t really be that desperate, can you? That you’d expose your own son like this? You’re a mum now. Start acting like one.”

The man who had eventually become Mandy’s husband had once written and publicly recited a poem for Gretchen one Valentine’s Day, Falk recalled. No wonder the woman was relishing having the upper hand for once.

“If you’re going to be spending time with this … person, Gretchen,” Mandy went on, “I’ve half a mind to alert social services. For Lachie’s sake.”

“Hey—” Falk said, but Gretchen spoke over him.

“Mandy Vaser,” she said, her quiet voice like iron. “You think you’re so all-knowing? Then do something smart for once in your life. Turn around and walk away.”

The woman straightened her spine, unwilling to yield ground.

“And Mandy? Watch yourself. If you do anything that causes my son to lose a single minute of sleep or shed one tear—” Gretchen’s icy tone was one Falk hadn’t heard before. She didn’t finish the sentence, letting it hang in the air.

Mandy’s eyes widened.

“Are you threatening me? That is aggressive language, and I take that as a threat. I can’t believe you. After everything this town has been through.”

“You’re the one threatening me! Social services, my arse.”

“I’m trying to keep Kiewarra safe for our kids. Is that too much to ask? Haven’t things been bad enough? I know you didn’t have much time for Karen, but you could at least show some respect, Gretchen.”