Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(84)

Rita looked across at Falk. They were both silent for a moment.

“That’s what I think. Because I can see it happening.”

Falk nodded slowly. He said nothing.

“And the thing is,” Rita said, “Zoe was relatively safe. I mean, it’s not ideal, obviously. But she was tucked up in the stroller. She was warm, clean, away from the elements. That stroller bay is surrounded by festival staff, it’s full of parents coming and going. It was always highly likely someone responsible would find her.” She shook her head. “If I imagine what might have been going through Kim’s head that night, I can think of much worse outcomes. Much worse.”

Falk looked out at the blackness. He could think of some, too.

“Sergeant Dwyer doesn’t believe Kim didn’t talk to anyone she knew that night,” he said. “But I guess if she was already feeling isolated—”

Rita nodded as she reached over and refilled their glasses. “And look, don’t say this to anyone but Greg—and even he doesn’t fully agree with me—but I didn’t grow up here so I have a slightly different view on things.”

“And what’s that?”

Rita put the bottle down, her eyes on the house. The windows were glowing, and someone had put on some music. Through the veranda doors, Falk could now see Raco moving about as he made coffee, a long string of mugs lined up.

“I love these people here,” Rita said. “All of them, I mean, not just my family. And not because I have to get along with them, but because they are warm and genuine and kind. But whether they’d admit it or not, honestly whether they’d even recognize it, there was a rift when Kim and Rohan got together. There’d always been this…” She reached for the right words. “Unspoken expectation, I guess, that Kim and Charlie would eventually end up back together. And when Kim and Rohan got married, they broke that. I mean, they didn’t really break anything, obviously. Kim and Charlie had split up, there was nothing there to break. But logic doesn’t stop feelings. And we can all get along and co-parent and raise a glass to the bride and groom, and Charlie can pay for as much wedding wine as he likes, but the fact is that sides were taken. For all sorts of reasons, because we have connections through this place, through our lives and work and family. And Kim knew that. She’d made a choice. A perfectly legitimate one. But when the dust settled, even Zara ended up here with Charlie.”

Falk watched Rita. For possibly the first time ever, she didn’t seem able to meet his eye.

“I don’t need to tell you, Aaron, what it’s like to suddenly feel exiled from your own community by people you trusted,” she said softly. “But I can imagine it’s hard.”

Yes, Falk thought as he stared out into the dark. It was very hard.

They sat together for a long stretch of silence until finally he looked over. Rita was still staring into her lap, guilt on her face. This time it was Falk who put his hand on hers.

“Did anyone talk to Kim about any of this?” he said eventually.

“I don’t think so. Not directly, anyway,” Rita said. “The closest was not long after Kim’s engagement. Zara heard her and Charlie having this stupid fight. Probably nothing that blew up into something, but he told Kim she was making a mistake, that Rohan wasn’t right for her. Don’t come crying to him when she realized that. That sort of thing.”

“And what happened?”

Rita gave a sad shrug. “They were angry for a few days but had to keep it civil for Zara. Neither of them usually had the energy to sustain a grudge, so they made up. But the damage was done, you know? By everyone, really. Kim had been told. She’d made her bed. So a couple of years later, when Kim’s struggling, and maybe her head’s not quite right, and it’s all feeling too much—does it surprise me she didn’t come to any of us?” Rita gazed out over the silent vineyard. “I’d love to say it did. But no. It doesn’t at all.”





28


Falk was unfortunately unable to join the Raco family brunch, owing to an urgent work conference call. He had to raise his voice over the cacophony in the kitchen simply to deliver the excuse, and Rita caught his eye over the top of two bawling, red-faced girls. She inclined her head in surreptitious approval.

Save yourself, she mouthed without dropping her rigor-mortis smile.

Raco, wrestling one kid after another outside and into various car seats, raised a hand without even looking over. “Yep, no worries.”

Falk watched Raco for a minute, his expression unusually flat and distant. It was hard to tell amid the chaos, but Rita was right, he thought. Raco was preoccupied by something, and it wasn’t just the kids. Falk scooped up a dropped sun hat from the ground and followed him out to the car.

“Great. Thanks.” Raco plonked the hat on the nearest bare head as he tried to force the seat buckle to click into place. “This bloody thing never—there. Got it.”

“Now’s clearly not the time,” Falk said as Raco emerged, sweating lightly. They both glanced at the kids securely strapped in. “But should we talk later? You thinking something?”

Raco hesitated, then sighed through his nose. He turned so he was facing away from the children. “Not really. Just the usual Kim stuff. I keep coming back to a few bits and pieces, none of it new, though.”