Force of Nature (Aaron Falk #2)(8)

‘Oh. I’ll just –’ Bree unfolded the map, fumbling as the wind caught the edges. Their start point had been circled and the route marked in red. She could hear packs being shifted as she traced a finger along the line, trying to find the first site. Where was it? Spots of rain bled into the paper and one corner blew back over itself, forming a crease. She smoothed it out as best she could, exhaling silently as she spotted the site next to her thumbnail.

‘Okay, it’s not far,’ she said, trying to decipher the scale on the map legend. ‘Not too bad.’

‘I suspect your definition of not bad might be different from mine,’ Jill said.

‘About ten kilometres?’ Bree accidentally made it sound like a question. ‘No more than ten.’

‘All right.’ Jill hoisted her pack a little higher on her shoulders. She already looked uncomfortable. ‘Lead the way.’

Bree set off. The path grew darker within a matter of steps as the branches curved over the trail, blocking the sky. She could hear water dripping from leaves and, from somewhere well hidden, the sound of a bellbird cry. She looked over her shoulder at the four faces behind her, shadowy under their jacket hoods. Alice was nearest, wisps of blonde hair catching in the wind.

‘Good job,’ she mouthed. Bree decided she probably meant it, and smiled.

Lauren was following, her eyes trained on the uneven ground, while Jill’s round cheeks were already flushed a little pink. Bree could see her sister bringing up the rear. Beth, half a step behind in her borrowed boots and too-tight coat. The sisters’ eyes met. Bree didn’t slow her pace.

The path narrowed and turned a corner, and the last visible light from the lodge blinked and disappeared as the trees closed in behind them.





Chapter 4



The lodge carpark was full. Search volunteers’ trucks were squeezed tight alongside news vans and police vehicles.

Falk double-parked outside the lodge and left Carmen sitting in the car with the keys. He stamped his boots on the verandah, a wave of warmth hitting him as he opened the door. A group of searchers huddled in a corner of a wood-panelled reception area, poring over a map. To one side, a doorway opened to a communal kitchen. On the other, Falk could see a lounge with worn couches and a shelf full of battered books and board games. An ancient computer lurked in the corner under a handwritten sign that said: For guest use only. Falk wasn’t sure if it was an offer or a threat.

The ranger behind the desk barely glanced up as he approached.

‘Sorry, mate, we’re completely full,’ the ranger said. ‘You’ve come at a bad time.’

‘Sergeant King around?’ Falk said. ‘He’s expecting us.’

The ranger looked at him this time. ‘Oh. Sorry. I saw you pull up and thought you were –’ He didn’t finish. Another city wanker. ‘He’s out at the search HQ. You know where that is?’

‘No.’

The ranger spread a park map over the desk. The paper was a green sprawling mass of bushland, shot through with crooked lines indicating routes or roads. The ranger picked up a pen and explained what he was marking. The driving route followed a small rural road, slicing through green mass to the west until it hit a crossroads, then turned abruptly north. The ranger finished his instructions and circled the finish point. It appeared to be in the middle of nowhere.

‘It’s about twenty minutes in the car from here. Don’t worry.’ The guy handed the map to Falk. ‘I promise you’ll know it when you get there.’

‘Thanks.’

Back outside, the cold was like a slap. He opened the car door and climbed into the driver’s seat, rubbing his hands. Carmen was leaning forward, staring through the windscreen. She shushed him as he began to speak, and pointed. Falk followed her gaze. Across the carpark, a man in his late forties wearing jeans and a ski jacket was reaching into the boot of a black BMW.

‘Look. Daniel Bailey,’ Carmen said. ‘Isn’t it?’

Falk’s first thought was that the BaileyTennants chief executive looked different out of a suit. He hadn’t seen Bailey in person before; the man moved with an athleticism that wasn’t captured in photos. He was a little shorter than Falk had expected but was broad around the shoulders and back. His thick hair was a rich brown, with no signs of grey. If the colour wasn’t natural, it was an expensive and convincing imitation. Bailey didn’t know them – shouldn’t know them, at least – but nevertheless Falk found himself sitting a little lower in his seat.

‘I wonder if he’s actually helping with the search,’ Carmen said.

‘Whatever he’s doing, he hasn’t been sitting around.’ Fresh mud caked Bailey’s boots.

They watched the man rummage through the boot of his BMW. The car sat like a sleek exotic animal amid the well-worn trucks and vans. Finally, he stood, shoving something dark into his jacket pocket.

‘What was that?’ Carmen said.

‘Pair of gloves, it looked like.’

Bailey tapped the boot and it glided shut in luxurious silence. He stood for a moment longer, staring out at the bushland, then walked towards the accommodation cabins, his head bowed against the wind.

‘Both him and Jill being up here could make things tricky,’ Carmen said, as they watched his retreating form.

‘Yeah.’ It was an understatement, and they both knew it. Falk started the engine, and passed Carmen the map. ‘Anyway. In the meantime, here’s where we’re headed.’