Force of Nature (Aaron Falk #2)(28)

Falk sat and listened, letting the shit roll down the hill in his direction. The occasional word of affirmation. He understood what they were saying. But so he should, he had heard it all before.

His eyes fell on the stack of maps, and as he listened, he shuffled through, opening the Giralang Ranges cover. Ordered grid markings were filled with winding routes, showing other paths to other places. He followed the lines with a finger as he listened down the phone. Was Alice out there now, looking at those same lines by torchlight or moonlight, scanning the landscape as she tried to connect print with reality? Or, a voice whispered, was it too late for that? Falk hoped not.

He looked up at the window. It was too bright in the room; all he could see was his reflection holding the phone. He reached over and snapped off the bedside light. Darkness. As his vision adjusted, blue-black details outside came into focus. He could make out the Mirror Falls trailhead a way in the distance. The trees on either side seemed to breathe and pulse in the wind.

At the trailhead there was a sudden glimmer of light and Falk leaned forward. What was that? As he watched, a silhouette emerged from the tree line, head down, hunched over against the elements, walking as briskly as the wind would allow. Running, almost. A thin beam of torchlight bouncing at their feet.

It was dark and cold to be out for a walk. Falk stood and put his face close to the glass, the receiver still at his ear. In the dark, from that distance, the figure’s features were invisible. A woman, though, he thought. Something about the way she moved. He could see no flash of reflective clothing. Whoever it was, they weren’t part of the official search team.

In Falk’s ear, the one-sided conversation was slowing.

Get the contracts. Yes. Get them soon. Yes. Don’t let us down. No.

A click, and it was over, for now. Falk stood, the receiver dead in his hand.

Outside, the figure skirted the path, avoiding the light spilling from the lodge into the carpark. She – they? – rounded the building and disappeared from view.

Falk hung up, and looked at his mobile lying useless next to the landline. Hurt her. He wavered for a second, then snatched up his key and pulled open the door. Cursing the far end position of his cabin, he jogged along the walkway, the frigid air sliding under his clothing and up against his skin. He wished he’d grabbed his coat. He rounded the corner of the lodge, scanning the empty carpark, not sure what he was hoping to find.

It was deserted. He stopped and listened. Any sound of footsteps was buried by the wind. Falk jogged up the stairs and into the lodge, hearing a clink of cutlery and the faint sounds of chatter floating from the kitchen area. A different ranger sat alone behind the desk.

‘Did someone come in here?’

‘Other than you?’

Falk gave her a look and the ranger shook her head.

‘You didn’t see a woman outside?’ he said.

‘No-one in the last ten minutes.’

‘Thanks.’ He pushed back outside. It was like plunging into a swimming pool and he folded his arms across his chest. He stared out into the bushland then crunched across the gravel towards the trailhead.

All ahead was dark, the lights of the lodge brilliant behind him. Over his shoulder, he could see what he thought was his own cabin window in the middle distance, the window a blank square. Beneath his boots, the path was a mess of footprints. There was a rustle as a bat darted overheard, a jagged shape against the night sky. Other than that, the trail was deserted.

Falk turned in a slow circle, the wind biting at his skin. He was alone. Whoever had been there was gone.





Day 2: Friday Morning


Bree was sweating. Despite the cold, the moisture clung to her skin and she could smell the alcohol coming from her pores as she walked. She felt disgusting.

Her head had been aching since waking up. Packing the campsite made it worse and the whole thing had taken ages, far longer than it should have. Only Alice had seemed keen to get moving. Bree had seen her shove a tent into a bag with so much force she worried she might rip it. Bree hadn’t offered to help. She was having enough trouble with her own tent.

With the zip finally closed, Bree had ducked behind a distant tree and vomited, hot and silent. How much had she had to drink last night? She couldn’t remember refilling her glass, but she couldn’t remember it being empty, either. It was the bloody men’s fault, she thought, and felt a spike of anger. Not so much at them, but at herself. She was usually more switched on to things like that.

Bree now wiped a bead of sweat from her eye as she stared at Alice’s back. Alice had pulled out ahead soon after setting off and Bree was struggling to keep up for once. Had Alice seen her drinking too much last night? She hoped not. Alice had been safely tucked away talking to Daniel most of the time. When Bree had next seen her, her head already swimming a little, Alice had been walking towards the tents. Bree may have got away with it last night, but she knew she was paying for it now.

Twice that morning they’d hit forks in the trail, and twice Alice had stopped and looked over. Bree had checked the map, ignoring the rocks clanging in her head, and pointed out the direction. With a nod, Alice had walked on without a word.

Bree heard a low groan behind her. It could have come from any of the others. She guessed shoulders, heels and nerves were all starting to fray. The track had grown thin and they’d resorted to single file a few kilometres earlier. The uphill gradient was enough to discourage talking. Ahead, Alice stopped once more as the trail turned a gentle corner and widened, splitting into two. Bree heard another groan behind her. Definitely Jill this time.