Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(38)

Raco swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “Hopefully she won’t get her hopes up too high, but there’s not a lot that can be done about that.”

Falk thought he was probably right. “I got through some of your file last night.”

“Yeah?” Raco drained his mug. “Anything?” He stopped as the door opened again and this time Rita appeared on the back veranda, shielding her eyes. She spotted them outside the guesthouse and waved for them to join her.

“Naomi must be here.” Raco pulled himself out of the chair. “Come on, Eva. So, yeah,” he said to Falk as they began to walk, “any thoughts?”

“It’s pretty thorough, mate,” Falk said. “No stone unturned.”

“Or clutching at straws.”

“What was the significance of the AGM minutes?”

“Which ones?”

“The festival committee. Last year.”

“Oh, them. There was a plan to do a safety audit. I put the minutes in so I remembered to follow up, but nothing new came out of it.”

“And the algae report? With the spring and summer bacteria levels?”

Raco frowned. “Dunno, might have to remind myself. Think it was something to do with indicating water movement.”

“There were some old photos, too,” Falk said. “Numbered, names listed. Taken at a party.”

“Yep.” Falk caught the change in Raco’s voice. “I know the ones.”

Raco looked like he wanted to say more but instead lifted his hand to greet the second woman now waiting for them on the veranda. “G’day, Naomi.”

Naomi Kerr stood next to Rita, holding baby Henry on her hip.

“Hi, Greg. And Aaron. Hello. At last.” Naomi smiled, bright and warm. Her sunglasses were not quite dark enough to hide her swift look of appraisal, up and down. “Good to finally meet you.”

“You, too,” he said.

Naomi was small, her head barely reaching Falk’s shoulder. She was wearing leggings today and they were skintight and glossy black, ending mid-calf to show a smooth, tanned ankle. Beneath her lightweight fleece, a fitted T-shirt hugged her body.

“Thank you both again for doing this.” Rita took Henry back as he started to whine, and motioned vaguely for them all to sit down. “And Father Connor has another appointment after this, Naomi, so you should be back at the clinic for—”

“That’s fine.” Naomi waved her hand. “I’ve swapped to the afternoon roster, anyway.”

“Naomi’s a GP,” Raco called as he disappeared into the kitchen and reemerged with a jug of water and some glasses. “At the medical center in town.”

“Speaking of…” Naomi pulled out a chair but didn’t sit, her gaze settling on Zara, who was now under the shade of a distant tree, staring at her phone. “Make an appointment for her to come in and talk to someone, even if she doesn’t want to. We’ve got a new woman recently started who’s very good.”

“Thanks,” Rita said, and Raco nodded as he poured. “We’ll tell Charlie.”

“How’s the general feeling this morning? Thank you.” Naomi accepted a glass of water and pushed her sunglasses onto her head. She had the reassuring presence of a medical professional, and Falk was starting to get a sense of why the Racos had chosen her to be his counterpart.

“We’re all just keen to see what comes out of the appeal,” Raco said. “Would help to have some answers, whatever they look like.”

“Absolutely.” Naomi’s face softened, her eyes still on Zara. “I think that would help a lot. It’s hard not to try to imagine what was on Kim’s mind.”

“Yeah.” Raco cracked his knuckles the way he sometimes did when he was silently debating something, and Rita discreetly winced at the sound. He stopped and nodded toward Falk. “We were actually just talking about that opening-night party.”

Naomi’s gaze slid back at that. She didn’t ask what he meant. “I’ve been thinking about that, too.”

Falk frowned. “What’s this?” he asked, and Raco and Naomi simultaneously drew breath, then locked eyes with an identical sorry, you go gesture.

“Go ahead,” Raco said. “You found her.”

There was a pocket of silence when all they could hear was the hum of insects. Rita was stroking her son’s hair with an expression Falk couldn’t read. Naomi stared down at her hands for a moment, gathering her thoughts, then looked up at Falk.

“You’d have heard about this bushland party that happens at the festival every year? All the local teenagers and any tourist kids they can drag in go up behind the reservoir on the first night and get absolutely shit-faced.” Naomi glanced at Henry in Rita’s arms. “Excuse my language.”

Rita smiled, pushing back her chair. “I don’t think he minds. I need to get him changed, anyway.”

“And look,” Naomi went on as Rita disappeared indoors. “Unpopular opinion here, because I’m aware I’m a hypocrite who used to do this myself, but that’s one tradition that needs shutting down. Before some kid has a bad reaction to something, or falls down the embankment and breaks their bloody neck, or slips and drowns in that water, because I know no one wants to hear it, but it will happen.”