Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(47)

Joel’s hand rested on Luna’s ears.

“The festival had opened the night before, and the cops always did breath tests on the highway in the mornings. They’ve closed off the track to cars now, but you used to be able to drive along there, skip a section of the road. They reckoned someone over the limit used it as a shortcut to miss the testing.”

“Right.” Where Gemma’s grief had seemed worn in, Joel’s still felt raw and jagged. “I’m really sorry to hear that, it’s—”

“Yeah. I know. Thanks.” Joel waved the condolences away, embarrassed. “The point is, my dad was knocked into the water and they didn’t find his”—a tiny hesitation—“his body for five months and nine days, and that was—” Joel cleared his throat. “I dunno. A really shitty five months and nine days. And Sergeant Dwyer’s never managed to find out who did it, so it’s still pretty shitty, to be honest. So yeah, I know what everyone thinks. That I’m full of it, or wasn’t watching the exit, or I’m saying this for attention or whatever, but I’m not.”

“Okay, mate.” Falk nodded as Joel crouched to stroke his dog, conveniently hiding his face. “Understood.”

Zara’s eyes slid from Joel to Falk and back again, her expression morphing from sympathy to frustration.

“But don’t you think that’s all a bit of a coincidence?” she said, her gaze zeroing in on Falk. “I mean, his dad not being found for months? My mum is still missing. This is not a big town. How often does something like this happen? Don’t you think it’s at least possible there’s a connection?”

There was a silence, and Joel stood again. They were both watching Falk carefully, waiting for his response. They looked abjectly miserable, and Falk felt a wave of compassion, deep and complex. Zara was only seventeen now, and Joel couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen when he’d lost his dad. Formative ages to go through something like that. Standing there in the bushland, Falk had a sudden sharp flash of cancer clinics and the disinfectant smell of the respite care home and the sun shining hot and harsh overhead at his father’s funeral. Losing a parent was pretty formative in its own way at any age, really.

He looked from one to the other. “Okay,” he said. “Tell me.”

“Well, I mean, there are lots of similar things,” Zara said. “My mum and his dad knew each other. Our parents have all been friends since school. What happened to them both happened around the opening of the festival, at the reservoir—”

“But you reckon Kim didn’t even come down here,” Falk said to Joel, and caught the look that passed between the teenagers. Interesting. They at least acknowledged the cracks in their theory.

“Well, what I’m saying is that Kim didn’t come through the east exit.” Joel’s voice was firm.

“Yeah.” Zara nodded quickly. “Something’s happened to her, that’s obvious. But the point is, it’s not what everyone thinks. Not Mum leaving her own baby and coming down here to—” She stopped, and pressed her mouth into a line.

“Look, Kim’s shoe was found in the water, so the reservoir’s involved somehow,” Joel said. “But there are other ways you can get down here. There’s a parking lot a few kilometers up, near the far end. Or you can come in through one of the hiking tracks. People with properties nearby cut through the bushland all the time to walk dogs and go running and things. You can’t drive in off the highway anymore, but the physical road still exists.”

They fell silent, waiting, and Falk tried to work out the best way to respond. He didn’t know what the answer was, but he knew enough to tell that there was at least one real connection there, and that was grief and uncertainty. He didn’t blame them. It was a lot for anyone to take on.

Zara sighed with the disappointment of someone realizing they may be wasting their time. “We’re just saying it’s not as straightforward as—”

She stopped. They had all sensed movement on the track below. Falk shifted, and together they peered down through the gap. He could see a shadow cast against the trail. Someone was down there, hidden on the far side by the bushland. All three of them had felt the additional presence immediately, Falk noted with interest. Okay, it was daylight and there was no rowdy party going on behind him, but still. Maybe Zara had a point. He stood next to the two teenagers in silence, watching, and after a minute the figure came into view. Sergeant Dwyer.

“Oh.” Zara breathed out, her interest immediately evaporating. “It’s him again.”

The officer stood for a moment, his back to the bushland and his palms flat against the safety railing, staring out at the water. Whether he sensed the scrutiny or not, Falk wasn’t sure, but suddenly he straightened and turned, his focus directed up toward them. Like Joel, Dwyer seemed to know exactly where to find the break in the trees. He could see them, Falk could tell. No one moved for a second, then Dwyer raised his arm, pointed and beckoned. A request, but a clear one.

Come down here, please.

Zara frowned, and next to her, Joel lifted a hand and pointed at his own chest. Dwyer shook his head slowly. Adjusted his arm a fraction.

You.

Falk blinked, then lifted his own hand and pointed to himself. Dwyer nodded this time. He paused, long enough to check he’d been understood, then turned back to the water to wait.