Force of Nature (Aaron Falk #2)(80)

He realised he had always harboured a nagging feeling that the four remaining women had been quick to abandon Alice once they’d discovered her missing. But now, as he stood in front of that forlorn cabin, he could almost hear an insistent whisper in his own mind. Get away. Run. He shook his head.

Carmen was looking at the larger plastic sheet.

‘They never did find that fourth victim way back then. Sarah Sondenberg,’ she said.

‘No.’ King shook his head. ‘They never did.’

‘Any early indication?’ She nodded at the sheet. ‘You must be thinking it.’

King looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. ‘The specialists still have to take a look. We’ll know more after that.’ He lifted the tape across the cabin entrance. ‘Come on. I’ll show you inside.’

They ducked under the tape. The door gaped like a wound as they stepped in. A faint odour of rot and decay underscored the crisp heady scent of the eucalypts. And it was dark; the windows let in only a little daylight. As he stood in the centre of the room, Falk could first make out shapes, then details. Dust that had obviously once laid thick, now showed all the signs of disturbance. A table was shoved aside at an odd angle and leaves and debris lay scattered around. In a second room, he could see a mattress branded with a dark and disturbing stain. And, near Falk’s feet, soaked into the dirty floorboards under the broken window, was a black spatter of what appeared to be fresh blood.





Day 3: Saturday Night


Lauren couldn’t find the torch. Her nails were scrabbling against the filthy floorboards when she heard a thump and the screech of the table sliding across the room. She registered it flying towards her a split second before the corner clipped her face.

The shock squeezed the breath from her lungs as she toppled back, landing hard on her tailbone. She grunted and lay there, dazed, beneath the broken window. The old gash on her forehead throbbed in agony and when she touched it, her fingertips came away wet. She thought she was crying, but the liquid around her eyes was too thick. The realisation made her retch.

Lauren dragged her fingers across her eyes, wiping them clear. When she could see again, she flicked her hands, the blood from her fingers spattering onto the floorboards. Through the window, she could see only clouds. Like the stars had never been there.

‘Help me!’ someone was screaming. She couldn’t tell who. She almost didn’t care, but then there was a thud and a loud wail. A torch came skittering across the floor, its beam bouncing off the walls at crazy angles, then it hit the wall and went out.

Lauren clambered to her feet, and staggered towards the trio on the ground, forcing her bloodied hands into the vicious huddle. She had no idea who she was grabbing as she tried to drag the group apart. Next to her, someone else was trying to do the same. Jill, she realised.

Lauren’s fingers found flesh and she dug her nails in, raking them back, not caring who it was as she struggled to put some cold night air between the bodies. An arm swung up from nowhere and Lauren ducked. It caught Jill on the jaw so hard she heard the woman’s teeth crack. Jill gave a wet grunt and staggered backwards, her hand clamped over her mouth.

The movement unbalanced the huddle, and as Lauren gave one final pull, it broke apart. There was nothing but ragged breathing, then the sound of each scuttling to their respective corners.

Lauren slumped against the wall. Her forehead was stinging, and now she could feel her right wrist aching where it had been bent back. She wondered if it was swelling up and ran a finger under the woven bracelet Rebecca had given her. It seemed okay for now, just sore. The bracelet was a little loose anyway, she probably didn’t need to take it off.

She sat up straighter, and the edge of her foot caught something. She reached down, her fingers finding the smooth plastic of a torch and she found the switch and clicked it on. Nothing happened. She shook it. Still nothing. It was broken. Lauren felt anxiety bubble in her chest and suddenly she couldn’t bear the dark a minute longer. She crawled to her knees, fumbling blindly around the floor until her fingers closed around a cold metal cylinder. She grasped it, feeling the weight in her hands. Beth’s industrial torch.

Shaking, Lauren turned it on, and felt a sharp relief as the cone of light cut through the dusty air. She looked down and could see her own blood on her boots, red and smeared, and another spatter on the floor near the window. She turned away in disgust and moved the beam slowly around the room.

‘Is everyone okay?’

The light landed on Jill, slumped near the makeshift partition. Her lips were swollen and caked with blood and she was clutching her jaw. She flinched under the glare and as Lauren moved the beam away, she heard Jill spit. Beth was lying on the floor nearby in a dazed heap, rubbing the back of her head while her sister sat bolt upright with her back against a wall and her eyes wide.

It took Lauren a moment longer to find Alice in the dark.

She was standing by the cabin door, when the faint yellow glow finally picked her out, dishevelled and flushed. And, for the first time that Lauren could remember in thirty years, Alice Russell was crying.





Chapter 22



Falk looked at the blood spatter on the floor.

‘Do we know who that belongs to?’

King shook his head. ‘They’ll check. But it’s recent.’

‘And what about that?’ Falk nodded at the mattress propped against the wall. A clear plastic sheet had been taped around it, but the stain on the fabric was plainly visible.