Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(116)

“Sorry,” he said to her, but still didn’t move. Instead, he glanced onward, the way they had been heading, toward home. Then he turned and looked back down the street. Falk’s eyes fell to Luna’s and he crouched down.

“We’ll be quick,” he said, rubbing her ears. She didn’t react. “I just want to check.”

If Luna could have sighed, Falk felt she would have as she followed him back the way they’d come, walking faster this time. Charlie’s truck was gone now, but Falk slowed as he neared the spot, anyway. Thinking—yet again, but more carefully now—about that day six months earlier. He stopped outside the office spaces—31A and 31B. Now a print shop and a law firm, formerly Kim’s and Dean’s places of work. Small-town coincidence. Sergeant Dwyer had told Falk that.

Falk turned and looked at the police station over the road. He hadn’t fully believed Dwyer then, as he’d sat in the sergeant’s office, distracted by a hundred other things. But the man had been right. Falk thought for a moment longer, then whistled to Luna, and they crossed the street.

He tied her leash to the railings outside the police station, then climbed the steps and opened the door. In the reception area, he paused for another long minute, debating silently with himself while the officer behind the desk regarded him warily.

“Is Sergeant Dwyer here?” Falk said finally. He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted the answer to be.

“Back in an hour or so if you want to try then. Or you can leave a message?”

“No.” Falk was already moving to leave. “It’s fine. Thanks—”

He stopped again, though, one hand on the door as the thought lingered. Falk looked back at the reception area as he turned a question over again in his mind. It was definitely possible, he thought, but he wouldn’t be able to guess. He needed someone who had been around at the time. Someone who would remember. Falk’s eyes locked on the officer behind the desk, who was watching him now with mounting suspicion.

“Actually.” Falk walked back to the desk and asked the one thing he was suddenly very keen to know the answer to. The officer frowned, clearly baffled as to why this was of any interest at all. He had to think about it, cast his mind back a few years. But in the end, he looked at Falk and nodded. Yeah. He’d been here then. And that sounded about right.

Falk had suspected it would, but he still felt a jolt at hearing the answer. “Okay. Thanks.”

Luna seemed to be able to sense something was very wrong as she followed him home, and she had to scurry fast to match his pace. Falk felt bad and slowed a little, but he didn’t stop.

The front door of the cottage was shaded by the trees, and Falk caught the familiar tang of eucalyptus as he took out his key and let himself in. The house was empty and silent, as he’d expected it to be, but he was still glad. He walked straight down the hallway to Joel’s bedroom. Not as neat as Falk and Gemma had left it, but a lot tidier than it had been.

Falk stood alone in the middle of the boy’s room and looked around. He pictured Gemma, sitting on the bed, the dusty light slicing in from the window. Rubbish bag forgotten in one hand as she concentrated on what was in the other. He made himself focus and remember. Where had she put it? He turned and began scrabbling through the desk, working fast while he was still able to cling to the image he was holding in his head.

He found the small jar rattling around at the very back of the middle drawer.

Falk held it for a long minute, turning it over in his fingers. Then he left the bedroom, moving through the quiet house to the kitchen. He opened the back door and stepped outside. He sat down in his favorite chair on the veranda and looked out at the view, the jar feeling oddly heavy in his palm. The bushland could be a thousand different colors, Falk had learned as he’d gazed out so many times now with Gemma beside him. Today, as he sat there alone, the green was full and dark.

Falk dragged his gaze away and looked down. He really was too relaxed these days, walking around with his bloody eyes closed when they should have been open. But he felt wide awake now. He turned the jar over in his hand once, then unscrewed the lid and carefully tipped the broken splinters of wood into his palm. He held them like that for what felt like a long time, making sure he was really seeing what he’d expected to see. Only when he was completely certain did he put the pieces back. One by one, tightening the lid. He lost track of how much longer he sat there, thinking about all kinds of things. The past six months. The past six years. The jar in his hand. What people will do for someone they love.

Then at last, he stood. Because he was sure, so he wanted to do this now. Before anyone came home, and he had to explain.

Falk walked back through the house. He crouched and stroked Luna’s ears gently, leaving her bleating after him in the hallway as he pulled the front door closed behind him. He stepped out once more into the shade of the eucalyptus trees, got into his car, and started the engine. Falk drove back into town, through the main street, and parked right outside the police station.





39


Falk had had no reason to see the inside of Dwyer’s office in the past six months, but it was exactly as he’d remembered it. Tidy and functional, with a single family photo on the desk.

The officer at reception looked mildly exasperated to see Falk return, but at least this time he’d been able to summon Dwyer. The sergeant had come out to find Falk in the waiting area.