Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(91)

Falk could understand that. But still. He imagined Joel, twelve years old, down there alone, penknife chipping against the wood. “Does Gemma know?”

“Yeah. She didn’t like having it in the house at first, but—” Joel’s expression softened a little. “I really wanted to keep it, so she let me.”

Falk turned the jar over in his hand, then stepped closer to the window to get a better look. He moved aside a dusty collection of Star Wars figurines and held the container up to the light.

“Can I open this?”

“Yeah,” Joel said. “I do all the time. It’s not a scientific sample or anything.”

In Falk’s palm, the wood fragments were long and thin. He turned each one carefully to see the painted side. When he’d heard the car involved in the accident was blue, Falk had been picturing something different, he realized now. Something brighter, sportier. This was a dull, flat tone. Falk turned the splinters back and forth, watching the color change a little as it caught the light. He closed his eyes briefly and visualized a whole car painted this shade. The side panels, the doors. Around the headlights. He ran through makes and models in his head, picturing something large and then compact, old and then new, in motion and still and—Falk opened his eyes and stared at the wood chips. Deep in his consciousness, something twitched in recognition.

What was it? Had he seen this car before?

Falk closed his eyes again and tried to tease it out. He thought about the parking lot at the festival, and the rows and rows of vehicles with their paintwork glinting under the sun or reflecting the lights at night. There? He could easily imagine a car that would fit the bill, but could he remember one?

From down the hall came the sound of the front door squeaking open and then clicking shut. Both Falk and Joel turned at the noise.

“Hello?” Gemma called. “I’m back.”

Joel quickly touched the mouse to close the video on the computer screen and glanced at the jar in Falk’s hand.

“She’s not sad the way she used to be.” Joel’s voice was low. “But she doesn’t like to be reminded of it.”

“Right.” Falk slipped the wood chips back into the container, screwed the lid on, and placed it carefully on the desk. He turned away, then immediately back again. He picked up the jar and held it to the light, then pulled out his phone and snapped a photo. He made sure to capture the paint color on the wood. Just in case he ever saw it again.





32


The winding road leading out of town was just as empty as it had been a few days earlier when Falk had driven in alone from Melbourne. He found it a little hard to believe it hadn’t been longer than that and counted back through the week to make sure he was right. Either way, he was enjoying the drive more this time. A lot of things were better with Gemma around.

She was sitting in the passenger seat, and music played softly from the radio as they wound their way up through the hills. Gemma tapped the window as they passed the spot where she’d come off her mountain bike as a ten-year-old and broken her right wrist in three places. Falk told her about the time his mate Luke had persuaded him at age eleven to join him on their school roof and he’d slipped and fractured his left elbow. Just in the one place, but they’d both been lucky not to break their necks in hindsight.

The bushland grew heavier on both sides, filtering the light of the low sun, and eventually Falk stopped talking and started watching the side of the road. When he saw what he thought he was looking for, he touched the brakes. The gap immediately seemed to disappear. He glanced at the deserted road behind in the rearview mirror, then slowed some more.

“No, you’re right. It’s there.” Gemma pointed to an almost invisible opening in the foliage. “By that big tree. See it?”

“I do now, thanks.” Falk grinned as he turned the steering wheel. “You’ve guessed our surprise destination, then?”

“I have.” Gemma laughed, but she kept her eyes on him a moment longer, as though learning something new. “I’m still surprised, though.”

“That’s good.”

Falk followed the hidden track, bumping along the rough ground until the bushland thinned and then opened entirely. The spectacular lookout was yet again better than he’d remembered. The Marralee Valley stretched out below, its vibrant patchwork of greens now bathed in a deep orange glow from the sun hanging heavy in the enormous sky. There was no one else there, Falk was happy to see as he pulled the car to a stop in the clearing.

“Oh my God,” Gemma said as they got out. “You know, it’s been absolutely years since I’ve been up here. You forget how good it is.” She nodded back toward the hard-to-spot track. “This used to be a bit of a local secret, or does every city blow-in know it now?”

“I don’t think all of us yet.” Falk smiled. “Raco showed me last year.”

“Well, I think we can forgive him.” Gemma wandered to the edge, and Falk joined her at the barrier. “As long as you’re careful. Last time I was here, I brought a friend visiting from the States and she dropped her phone over the side.”

“Seriously? That was gone, I’m guessing.” Falk looked down at the impenetrable tangle of bushland far below. The dense canopy covered the ground.

“Yeah, no chance. And it was a beta prototype she was testing, so—”