Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(48)

“You’ve been summoned.” Zara’s voice had an odd note.

“Looks like it,” Falk said. “See you later, I guess.”

Zara nodded but didn’t move as he made to leave, her eyes still on the officer. Falk stepped back into the clearing, then stopped at the sound of footsteps following.

“Hey.” Joel paused to clip Luna back on her lead. When he stood again, he and Falk were almost eye to eye. “So, listen. Dwyer won’t help you with anything,” he said matter-of-factly. “Just so you know.”

“No?” Falk kept his tone neutral.

“No. He only comes across as okay at his job because there’s no real crime around here. But when something big happens—my dad, Kim—” Joel shrugged, like it was obvious. “Then he has no answers.”

Falk said nothing. Investigations, he knew from bitter experience, were often less straightforward than they appeared from the outside. Joel picked up on his hesitation.

“I mean, you ask me and Zara what we think happened to her mum, and yeah, of course we don’t know.” The boy nodded down to the reservoir where Sergeant Dwyer was waiting. “But he should know. He should definitely know. That’s his whole job, right? That’s a fact.” Joel’s voice was low and steady. “And here’s another fact for you. It took nearly six months to find my dad in that water, but in the end they still found him. Take a guess how many people in the past fifty years have drowned in the reservoir and never been seen again?”

“Go on.”

“Kim would be the first.”





16


Falk knew Zara and Joel couldn’t see him as he left the clearing and navigated his way down through the bushland, but he sensed their eyes following again as he approached the Drop.

“G’day.” Sergeant Dwyer was waiting by the safety railing. He introduced himself as Falk joined him. “Lucky to spot you up there. Can cross you off my catch-up list.”

“Right.” Falk squinted back up toward the trees. He couldn’t see any sign of the teenagers, but felt sure they were still there.

“A little higher.” Dwyer squinted himself, then pointed. He looked older in broad daylight than he had last night, his hair silver in the sun. “Find the fallen tree—you see it? There, looks darker from here—and straight up from there. Got them?”

Falk suddenly did. The blue of Joel’s jacket, the shadow of Zara’s hair by his shoulder. It wasn’t easy, though. The benefits of local knowledge, he supposed.

“Anyway, thanks for coming down,” Dwyer said. “I would’ve come up, but I try and show a bit of respect for the kids’ territory, when I can, at least. Not sure they’d agree, but there you go.”

Falk was tempted to believe him. Fit and wiry, Dwyer wouldn’t have had any trouble making his own way up that narrow path to the clearing in a matter of minutes if he’d wanted to.

“Like I said, just wanted a quick chat,” Dwyer said, in a tone very similar to one Falk often used himself when saying that exact phrase. “We didn’t get the chance to meet last night. Or last year, obviously.”

“No,” Falk said, curious rather than concerned. “That’s right.” He leaned against the safety barrier. Screwed into the wood between him and Dwyer was the small brass memorial plaque he’d noticed the previous evening.

In memory of Dean Tozer, Falk was able to read now in the sunlight. Loved and missed.

The paintwork along the railings on either side had been freshly graffitied. It was the mindless scrawl of kids with a black pen and too much booze and time on their hands, rather than anything targeted, Falk could see, but still unpleasant. Sticky food remnants were smeared on the wood, and there was a series of dirty boot marks next to the plaque where someone had tried to balance on the railing. Falk suddenly pictured Joel standing there earlier, his shoulders stooped as he presumably took in the sight of his father’s memorial plaque surrounded by all this mess.

“This all would’ve happened last night.” Dwyer followed Falk’s gaze down to the vandalism, his face set. “Kids come here every year, get carried away. Not my favorite annual event, by a long way. But—” He gave a deep shrug. “Being a cop here, it’s a balancing act. You’re AFP, I hear?”

Dwyer seemed neither threatened nor particularly impressed as Falk nodded.

“In town for the christening, that right? Godfather to Greg and Rita’s youngest.” Dwyer looked over. “So you must know the family well? Part of that circle?”

“Not really. Greg and Rita, yes. I’ve known them for a few years.”

“How about the others? Charlie, Shane McAfee? All their mates? Naomi Kerr, she’s godmother, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. I just met them, though. Don’t know them well.” Falk could tell his answers were being appraised, he just wasn’t sure why yet. He pictured Dwyer at the appeal the night before, and the way he had run his eyes over Kim’s family and friends. Falk shut his mouth and waited.

But Dwyer simply nodded, considering, then glanced back up to the bushland, his eyes following the downed tree up to the break where Zara and Joel had been. There was no sign of them now.

“Those two aren’t happy with me.” Dwyer reached out and rubbed a thin strip of dirt off the memorial plaque, then used his thumbnail to pick out a dead leaf caught between the metal and the wood. “They tell you their connection theory? Looking to link Dean Tozer and Kim?”