Chapter 17 #2
“Not for a long time, but when I was younger, yeah. A couple.” Falk still remembered them, though. One in particular, where neither the driver nor passenger had been wearing a seat belt. The inside of the car had looked like a pizza. “Not something I’d be keen to repeat.”
“No. Me, neither.” Shane’s soft voice dropped even further. “It was me who found Dean. I mean, the scene, really. Dean wasn’t there.”
“Rita said something about that,” Falk said as Shane studied his own hands, frowning.
“Yeah. I’d sometimes jog around the reservoir track, try to keep the fitness up, you know.
Not that often—or not as often as I should—but every few days or so.
Dean used to walk his dog down there most mornings, but earlier, so I’d usually miss him.
” The creases in Shane’s face deepened. “Then on that day I saw Luna—Dean’s dog—and I remember thinking he must have been running pretty late.
But I knew straightaway something was wrong because Luna was in the middle of the bloody track, making this”—he cringed at the memory—“howling noise. I’ve never heard her do that.
I thought she was hurt, but she wasn’t, just shaking.
Circling and yapping.” Shane shook his head.
“The safety railings were a mess. Posts all broken and the middle section gone. Like it had been completely torn out. When I looked over the side there was a big chunk of wood hanging down, all splintered. And Luna was there on her own, and Dean was nowhere. No sign of any car.”
“You could tell that’s what had happened?” Falk said.
“I guessed. From the damage to the barrier.” Shane was quiet for a long moment.
“I had a smash myself once. Years ago, not long after I retired, back when I was still drinking. Hit a fence. No one else was involved, but…” He shook away the thought, didn’t look at Falk.
“And down at the reservoir it had that same feel about it. Hard to describe.”
Falk knew the one. He’d felt it at accident scenes himself, years ago. As though the air itself absorbed the moment of impact, pulsing with it like an echo.
“I actually tried to call Dean. While I was standing there.” Shane seemed faintly mystified by that.
“God knows why. Maybe in case he’d been thrown clear or something and was injured.
He didn’t answer. Of course. I couldn’t even hear his phone ring, but Luna was bloody howling and barking, so who knows?
I remember looking down into the water again.
Couldn’t see anything. Didn’t know how long it had been since the crash. So then—”
Shane drained his water glass, put it on the desk with a sharp tap.
“I called Gemma. I called her instead of Sergeant Dwyer because—” Shane’s usual soft-spoken rhythm was undercut by a streak of anger.
“Jesus, I really don’t know. Because I was hoping she’d say Dean was at home, or at the hospital, but that doesn’t make any bloody sense because Gemma and Joel never would’ve left Luna like that.
So I can’t even remember exactly what I said, but that was how they found out that Dean was gone.
Which wasn’t great.” Shane exhaled and rubbed a hand over his face.
His voice steadied, returning to something closer to normal.
“I mean, I used to think I did some bloody stupid things back when I was playing, but sometimes I wonder. I wish Gemma and Joel had found out in a better way.”
“Sometimes there is no good way to hear something.”
“Maybe. There’re bad ways and worse ways, though, aren’t there?
” Shane managed a small smile, then nodded at the computer.
“Anyway, so that’s the story of why I’m sitting here now stuffing up spreadsheets requested by some accountant who thinks I’m an idiot.
” He paused, his mood lifting a notch as something occurred to him.
“He’ll be absolutely shocked I’m not calling asking for help this time.
I reckon he enjoys it, actually, the way he talks to me. People like to pigeonhole, you know?”
“That’s very true.” Falk nodded.
“Do it to ourselves even, hey?” Shane picked up his empty glass and tilted it at the computer. “Like how you’re good at this stuff, but reckon you can’t play footy.”
Falk smiled. “Well, that’s a fact, mate, not an opinion.”
“You don’t play; that’s not the same thing as can’t play.
” Shane cast an appraising eye over him.
“What are you, around my age? You look fit enough. And height like that? I spent years looking at blokes on the field and working out how good they were, and I reckon you could be okay.” He considered. “Or okay for around here, anyway.”
Falk had to laugh. “Which is saying what exactly?”
“Not a huge amount, true.” Shane grinned as a shadow passed outside and Charlie appeared in the doorway. “But not nothing.”
“They’ll be in the drawer, here. I’ll just—” Charlie was saying to Raco as they came in, five-year-old Eva clattering behind them. They stopped when they saw Falk and Shane.
“Hey, you’re back.” Raco smiled as Charlie squeezed past to rummage through the desk. “How was the festival?”
“Yeah, okay,” Falk said. “I—”
“Guess what we’re doing?” Eva interrupted. She held up Duffy, the doll Falk had sent her when she was born. Its features had partly worn away through love and handling, giving the doll a slightly grotesque appearance, but Eva didn’t seem to mind. “We’re taking the tractor for a ride.”
“Oh, great. Sounds like fun.”
“You can come, too,” she said, with beaming benevolence.
“I don’t know, mate, I should probably—” Falk’s phone was feeling very heavy again in his pocket.
What he should do was go to the guesthouse, dig out his laptop, and blast through the most pressing of the messages.
But Eva had already taken both him and Raco by the hand and was leading them outside.
Charlie slammed the desk drawer shut, keys jangling in his palm, and followed them out into the sun.
Falk looked back, raising his free hand in farewell to Shane, then gave in for the moment and let Eva lead him down toward the vines.
He breathed in the deep, fresh air, soaking in the sense of spring leaves and fledgling fruit all around.
“Was the festival site busy?” Charlie asked as they walked. “I called the station earlier to see how the appeal went, and they said Rob Dwyer was already down there.”
“Yeah.” Falk hesitated. “I ran into him. He said a few new reports came in. Reckons a couple are worth chasing up.”
“Right.” Charlie frowned slightly. “That’s good. Something, at least?” He glanced at his brother for confirmation, and Raco nodded.
“After a whole year, any new information’s good,” Raco said, then turned to Falk. “He mention anything else?”
“About the appeal? No.” Falk met Raco’s eye. Kept his voice neutral. “Sounded like he might have one or two thoughts simmering away, though.”
“Rob? Yeah.” Raco flashed Falk a knowing smile over his daughter’s head. “I’ll bet he does.” They exchanged a silent look of understanding. They’d talk later.
Eva dropped their hands suddenly and ran ahead to the tractor that was parked in the large shed at the far end of the vines. She placed Duffy carefully up on the seat, then climbed in herself, positioning the doll on her lap.
“You know what would be so fun?” she said as though the idea had only just struck her, even as she fixed Falk firmly in her crosshairs. “If you drive us.”
“Me?” Falk laughed. “No, Eva.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “Why not?”
“For starters, I’ve got some work I need to do.”
“Mum says you’re on holiday.”
“That’s true.”
“So why do you have to do work? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Also true, Eva.” Falk smiled. The kid made a good point. “Still, I think this is something I’d better leave to your dad or uncle.”
“Oh.” She looked immediately devastated. “Okay,” she managed bravely.
“Don’t be dramatic, kiddo.” Charlie grinned and hefted a bag of what smelled like fertilizer clear of the wheels. “It’s different from a car. Not everyone can drive one of these.”
“Although…,” Raco said. He was leaning against the tractor, watching the conversation unfold with amusement. “I’ll bet you a thousand dollars, Eva, that your uncle Aaron can.”
“Really?” Eva and Charlie turned in unison to look at Falk, one in delight and the other in surprise.
Raco laughed. “I’ve seen the exact property where this guy grew up. There’s no way he doesn’t know his way around one of these things. You, hand him the keys.” He pointed at Charlie and then Falk. “And you, leave the work for once. Give the kid a ride.”
Falk looked up at the machine. Raco wasn’t wrong.
Falk had learned to drive a tractor before he’d learned to drive a car, and his dad had taught him both.
It had been a long time, though, since he’d done this.
He stood there in the cool of the shed, with the shafts of sunlight warm across the dusty floor, and all of a sudden, it was twenty-five years ago and he couldn’t wait another minute.
Falk stepped forward and climbed up, feeling the long-forgotten but instantly familiar sensation of being in front of the controls.
He took the key from Charlie and turned it.
The sensation was immediate. He knew how to do this.
“Okay.” Of course. He’d always known how to do this. “Let’s go.”
“Try to avoid the crop, preferably,” Charlie called after them, but he was smiling.
Falk pulled away, out into the bright light, the little girl beside him and the land and the sky huge ahead.
Raco and Charlie strolled along behind and, after a while, Rita and Henry came out and joined them, chatting as they wandered slowly through the vines.
Falk and Eva sat side by side, and she sang songs and recounted meandering stories as they trundled along, drawing long, lazy laps in the afternoon sun until dinnertime.