Force of Nature (Aaron Falk #2)(89)

‘Who are you talking to, Alice?’





Chapter 28



Falk felt completely deflated. From the look on Carmen’s face as they followed the path to the accommodation cabins, she felt the same. The wind was up again, stinging his eyes and snatching at his clothes. When they reached their rooms, they stopped and Falk turned the memory stick Sergeant King had given them over in his hands.

‘Shall we look at the photos?’ he said.

‘I suppose we’d better.’ Carmen sounded as enthusiastic as he felt. Alice Russell’s bushland grave. The ranges had finally given her up, just not in the way any of them had hoped.

Falk unlocked the door and put his backpack on the floor, pulling out items until he could free his laptop. Carmen sat on the bed and watched.

‘Still got your dad’s maps,’ she said as he put the stack on the bedspread next to her.

‘Yeah. I didn’t have enough time at home to unpack properly.’

‘No, me neither. Still. I suppose we’ll be back there soon enough. Face the music at work, now Alice has been found. They’re still going to want the contracts.’ Carmen sounded defeated by the prospect. ‘Anyway –’ She moved over to make space on the bed as Falk opened his laptop. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

Falk plugged in the memory stick and they sat side by side as he opened the gallery of pictures.

Alice’s backpack filled the screen. Shots taken from a distance showed the bag leaning against the base of a tree, its fabric at odds against the sea of muted greens and browns. Close-ups confirmed Falk’s first impression from back in the bushland. The bag had been soaked by rain but was otherwise undamaged and unopened. There was something unnerving about the way it was propped there, poised and ready for retrieval by an owner who would never return. Falk and Carmen took their time staring at images of the bag from all possible angles, but eventually the gallery moved on.

The trees had protected Alice Russell’s body from the worst of the weather, but the elements had still taken a toll. She was lying flat on her back in a bed of overgrown scrub grass, her legs straight out, and her arms slack by her side. She was no more than twenty metres from the path, but from the photos it was clear she was nearly invisible from all but close range.

Her hair was a tangled mess around her head and her skin lay loose and slack against those high cheekbones. Other than that, she could almost be sleeping. Almost. Animals and birds had discovered her body well before the police.

The bushland had washed over Alice like a wave. Leaves and twigs and bits of rubbish clung to her hair and in the creases of her clothing. A decrepit piece of plastic wrapping that looked like it had travelled a long way was wedged under one leg.

Falk was about to move on to the next photo when he stopped. What had caught his eye? He ran his eye over the image again. Something about the way Alice was lying, sprawled, scattered with debris. A thought nagged him, skittering away as he tried to reach out and grasp it.

Falk cast his mind back to the woman he and Carmen had known. Alice’s corporate lipstick and defiant expression were long gone and her body looked like an empty shell against the forest floor. She looked fragile and very much alone. Falk hoped Margot Russell would never see these pictures. Even in death, the resemblance between Alice and her daughter was striking.

They scrolled on through the photo gallery until the screen went blank. They had reached the end. ‘Well, that was about as bad as expected,’ Carmen said in a quiet voice.

The window rattled as she sat back, her hand falling on the pile of maps on the bedspread. She picked up the top one and opened it, her eyes running over the printed lines.

‘You should use these.’ She sounded sad. ‘At least something good should come out of all of this.’

‘Yeah. I know.’ Falk shuffled through the pile until he found the Giralang Ranges map.

He opened it flat, looking for the North Road. He found it cutting through an unmarked tangle of bushland. He worked out roughly the spot where he thought the cabin lay, and then where Alice Russell’s body had been found.

There were no pencil markings in the whole region, no words or notes in his dad’s handwriting. Falk wasn’t sure quite what he had been expecting, or hoping, to find, but whatever it was, it wasn’t there. His dad had never been to that area. The printed lines on the paper stared back with blank indifference.

With a sigh, he moved the page until he found the Mirror Falls trail. The pencilled notes there were clear as his dad’s hard-to-read letters looped and swirled across the yellowing paper. Summer trail. Watch for rockfall. Fresh water source. He had corrected vigorously. A lookout point had been marked as closed, then open, then scored through heavily again with the words: Recurring danger.

Falk stared at the words for a long time, not quite sure why. Something flickered deep in his consciousness. He was about to reach for the laptop when Carmen looked up.

‘He liked this area,’ she said, holding up the map in her hand. ‘Lots of markings on this one.’

Falk recognised the name of the region instantly. ‘That’s where I grew up.’

‘Really? Wow. You weren’t joking, it is in the middle of nowhere.’ Carmen looked a little closer. ‘So you two did go hiking around there together? Before you moved.’

Falk shook his head. ‘Not that I remember. I’m not sure even he went out much himself then. He was pretty busy on the farm. Probably got enough fresh air.’