Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(34)

“Thanks. Yeah. Dean was a good bloke. Kim was mates with him, too, so maybe—I dunno.” The frown deepened. “Maybe she was—” Charlie stopped again. He pushed his empty glass away and sighed. “Jesus. I really don’t know. Anyway. On that cheery note, think I’ll call it a night.” He pulled himself up with a low groan. “Or at least lie awake listening until my bloody daughter comes home.”

“Night, Charlie.” Rita watched him disappear inside, then shook her head. “God, I’m such an idiot,” she said in an undertone. “I can’t believe I brought up Dean.”

“No, it’s fine. He’ll be right. It’s just with Kim and everything else.” Raco rubbed her shoulder with his free hand and looked across at Falk. “Charlie and Dean were good mates at school and then again when Dean moved back here. So he took it pretty hard when he died. Obviously.”

“Shane, too,” Rita said. “I think maybe more so, even.”

“They were friends as well?” Falk asked.

“Yeah, all of them. Charlie, Shane, Rohan, Dean.” Raco looked at the album, still open on the table at Dean’s picture. “But Shane was first on the scene. He was out running and saw there’d been an accident. Had to make the call to the police.”

Falk nodded slowly. He thought about the memorial plaque, and pictured Gemma’s face across the restaurant table. He could guess the answer before he even asked, “So did they get the driver?”

“No.” Raco shook his head. A light went out somewhere inside the house, and Dean Tozer’s face darkened in shadow. “Never did.”





12


Falk and Raco sat together and listened to the hum of the night as they looked out over the long rows of vines. Rita had taken Henry inside, and Falk could hear her now moving around the kitchen.

“You going to wait up for Zara?” Falk asked as Raco yawned.

“I don’t think I’ll make it. I hope she’s feeling okay, though.”

“It’s bloody hard when someone’s not found,” Falk said. “I can see why she’s hung up on things.”

“I know. But a lot of these theories she grabs on to just go nowhere. I mean, Kim being out there still?” Raco rubbed the corners of his eyes. “Think that through realistically for one second. Where’s she supposed to have been living for an entire year? What’s she doing for money? I mean, Kim was my family, too. So I’ll follow these things up, for her as much as Zara, but…” He waved a hand in futility. “Things lead where they lead, you know? I can’t change that because Zara wants it to be something different.”

“No.” Falk thought back over the evening, and the appeals for answers. Not just from Zara and Rohan but from the sergeant, too, with his unexpected—to Falk, at least—scrutiny of the gathered supporters. “What are your thoughts on Dwyer, out of interest? He seems the curious type.”

Raco looked faintly amused. “He is, isn’t he? Which is what you want, I suppose. But yeah, look, he’s solid. Good with the locals, good at the job, I would say. My dad trained him up, actually, back when this was one of his early postings, so you’d hope so.”

“The way he was watching all of you tonight, at the end,” Falk said, and Raco nodded. “You worried?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

Raco seemed to weigh something up for a moment, then hauled himself out of his chair and disappeared inside the house. He returned a moment later with a large bound folder in his hands and passed it to Falk.

“Been keeping a few notes of my own about all this.”

“Yeah, mate. So I see.”

It was a thick file, and Falk ran his thumb over the edge. He wasn’t surprised Raco had his own resources, but this was even more comprehensive than he’d expected. He glanced over, and Raco shrugged.

“Yeah, I know. Look, it’s for peace of mind, mostly. So when Zara asks something, I can give her a decent answer. Anyway, feel free to flick through. Maybe you’ll see something I haven’t.”

“I doubt that,” Falk said, meaning it.

“At this point, I’d be happy if you did, honestly.” Raco gathered up their empty glasses. “And you never know, fresh pair of eyes.”

“Well.” Falk was less convinced. “Maybe.”

After they’d said good night, Falk walked back to the guesthouse on his own. It was very peaceful, he thought. Away from the lights of the cottage, the vineyard took shape under the silvery moon. The perfect rows gleamed in the pale light, and the distant hills rose around the valley in their tones of black and gray. Above, the night sky was huge. The stars glowed. He stood for a minute, drinking it in.

Finally, the mosquitos biting, he unlocked the guesthouse and let himself in. He flicked on a couple of lamps, bathing the room in a warm, low light, and put Raco’s file on the bedside table. Opening the fridge, he poured himself a glass of water, then went to the bathroom, turned on the taps, and took a long, hot shower.

He emerged feeling better, more relaxed and his head clearer. He put on the T-shirt and shorts he usually slept in and stood at the window, rubbing a towel over his hair. Through the blinds, Falk could see the edge of the house. It was all in darkness except for a soft glow from one window. He mentally tracked the internal layout and decided it was Zara’s room. There was some movement of shadow behind the curtains. So the girl was home, but she wasn’t sleeping, he thought as he hung up his towel. Or at least not yet.