Force of Nature (Aaron Falk #2)(20)

Beth lit a cigarette, savouring the first drag and stretching her sore muscles. She wandered to the fire pit, where last night’s embers lay black and cold. Discarded boil-in-the-bag wrappers had been stacked under a stone, their contents oozing gently. Old stew was smeared and crusted on the ground – an animal must have found it in the night – but there was still a lot left over. What a waste, Beth thought as her stomach rumbled. She had quite enjoyed hers.

A kookaburra perched nearby, watching her with its black eyes. She picked up a strip of beef from one of the abandoned packets and tossed it towards the bird, who scooped it up with the tip of her beak. Beth smoked as the bird jerked her head, whipping the meat back and forth. Satisfied at last that it was dead, the kookaburra swallowed it in one gulp and flew away, leaving Beth alone once more. She bent to stub out her cigarette and her boot caught a half-empty wine bottle. It toppled over, spilling its contents like a bloodstain on the ground.

‘Shit.’

She felt the hot prickle of annoyance. Alice was a cheeky bitch. Beth had kept her mouth shut while Alice barked orders about the tents, but when she’d told her to fetch the booze, Beth had stared at her in confusion. Amused, Alice had opened Beth’s bag herself and, rummaging around at the bottom, pulled out three bottles of wine. Beth had never seen them before.

‘They’re not mine.’

Alice had laughed. ‘I know. They’re for everyone.’

‘So why were they in my bag?’

‘Because they’re for everyone.’ She spoke slowly, as if to a child. ‘We all have to help carry the supplies.’

‘I’m already carrying my share. Those weigh a tonne. And . . .’ She’d stopped.

‘And what?’

‘I’m not supposed to –’

‘Supposed to what? Help?’

‘No.’ Beth had glanced at her sister but Bree was glaring back, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. Stop kicking up a bloody fuss. Beth sighed. ‘I’m not supposed to be in possession of alcohol.’

‘Well.’ Alice tapped the bottles. ‘Now you’re not. Problem solved.’

‘Does Jill know?’

Alice had stopped at that. The smile was still on her face, but the amusement was gone.

‘What?’

‘Does Jill know you put those in my bag?’

‘It’s a couple of bottles, Beth. Lodge a complaint if you feel that grievously injured.’ Alice had waited, the silence stretching on until Beth had shaken her head. She’d seen Alice roll her eyes as she turned away.

Later, when Lauren had held out a bottle by the campfire, Beth had been more tempted than she’d been in a long time. The bush seemed like the kind of place that kept secrets well. And Bree seemed too distracted to police her. The scent of the wine had been as warm and familiar as an embrace, and Beth had made herself say no before she accidentally said yes.

She wished Daniel Bailey hadn’t brought the men over. That they hadn’t brought the extra booze. She found it harder to resist in a group setting. It felt too much like a party, albeit a crap one.

It was the first time Beth had seen the chief executive in person. He didn’t slum it down in the bowels of the data archives, and she had certainly never been invited up to the twelfth floor. But from the way people spoke about him, she’d somehow expected more. Around the campfire he’d just been one more bloke with a hundred-dollar haircut and a smile he’d obviously once been told was charming. Maybe he was different in the office.

Beth had been watching Daniel and considering this when she’d seen him take Alice aside and disappear with her into the dark. Was there something between them? Beth wondered. Something about his manner made her think not, but what did she know? It had been years since anyone had wanted to disappear into the dark with her.

She’d caught a snatch of their conversation as she’d wandered around the site, looking for someone to talk to. No. She’d been right the first time. Definitely not a prelude to pillow talk.

‘The boss is a bit full of himself, isn’t he?’ Beth had whispered to her sister later, when they were zipped into their sleeping bags.

‘He pays your salary, Beth. He’s allowed to be.’

With that, Bree had rolled over, leaving Beth to stare at the canvas and long for a cigarette or, preferably, something stronger.

She stretched now, as the sky grew lighter, and was no longer able to ignore the ache in her bladder. She looked for the tree they’d earmarked in the dark as their makeshift toilet area. There it was. A short way from the clearing, behind the tents. The one with the broken branch.

Beth tramped over, careful where she put her feet. She didn’t know much about the local wildlife, other than there were probably a heap of things out here that she wasn’t keen to step on. Behind her, there was movement in the campsite. The rustle of a tent zipper, followed by low voices. Someone else was up.

At the tree she stopped. Was this it? It looked different in the daylight, but she thought it was right. There was that broken branch at head height. And if she concentrated, she thought she could detect the faint whiff of urine.

As she stood there, she heard voices float over from the campsite. They were speaking softly but she could still recognise them. Jill and Alice.

‘You did have a bit to drink last night. Not just you, all of us –’