Crows nest, p.17
Crows Nest, page 17
Despite being exhausted, she lay awake wondering why the fight with Hugh somehow felt more permanent than the others. After all, they’d had many arguments during their marriage and most of them had no greater effect on their relationship than bad weather. So much so that she struggled to remember one fight with any specificity. Only the themes stood out. Their separate bedrooms and her working too much. Hugh not helping out enough and her constant battle to maintain the house. And how she’d felt after Oscar died. Like her throat was burning with sorrow, her body’s deepest expression of sadness. She yanked the wedding ring from her finger and placed it on the bedside table, fighting the urge to fling it from the window.
Sleep didn’t come. By two that morning she’d reached the second of Kübler-Ross’s stages of grief with impressive swiftness. She seethed, thinking furiously about the ridiculous things Hugh had said. They were no longer in a relationship, she only cared about her clients and, worst of all, he was just friends with Antonia.
On Saturday night, after a day holed up in her hotel room, she sat in the back seat of a taxi, the window down as it swept up the circular driveway of her old school grounds. It had taken her an age to put on her make-up and she’d finally chosen a black dress with a silk scarf draped around her shoulders. She paid the driver and trudged up the driveway, cool air on her face as she lingered by the oval.
At the glass-doored entrance to the hall she was given a name tag, which she carefully pinned onto her dress, avoiding the delicate material at her neck. Inside, air conditioners had been installed beside archaic-looking fans and small groups were gathered by the stage.
She took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and said hello to two women from her form class. When it was time to give her speech, Dana was surprised by her lack of nerves. With everything that had gone on recently – losing Oscar, the murdered women and the attack on her house – making a fool of herself in front of people she hadn’t seen for years was suddenly the least of her problems. She thanked everyone for coming, and in particular the teachers for putting up with them, made some references to the music they’d all loved and encouraged everyone to have a wonderful night. When it was all over the first person who came up to her was Isabell, in a glittery top and skirt.
‘Dana! Great speech!’ Isabell’s voice echoed through the hall, making Dana wonder if she’d already had a few wines at home. ‘Where’s the hubby? I’m dying to meet him.’
An aching sadness settled in Dana’s chest. ‘He couldn’t make it,’ she said quickly. ‘Migraine.’
Isabell pouted. ‘That’s a shame. Mark’s around here somewhere. He’s the local candidate for Willoughby this year, so he’s probably schmoozing some party member.’ She craned her neck in search of him. ‘Tell me, what’s it been like living near Crows Nest? Honestly, with some of the people I met there, I don’t reckon I’d last two minutes in that place, let alone a few months. Doesn’t it freak you out?’ Isabell grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby table and bolted down her drink.
‘To be honest, I have started to feel pretty scared the last few days.’
‘Really?’ Isabell’s eyes snapped into focus. ‘What happened?’
‘Someone threw a brick through my window the other night.’
‘Wow, that’s really serious.’
A woman who’d become a High Court judge swept past in a backless gown and Isabell waved. ‘Julia! You look stunning! How’ve you been?’
As Isabell moved away, Dana felt her mobile vibrate in her handbag. She was almost relieved to return through the glass doors to the fresh air outside to answer it.
‘Lachlan,’ she said with surprise. ‘It’s a bit late for you to be calling, isn’t it?’
‘I’ve got to go into work to finish an affidavit tomorrow and I don’t remember the security code for the office. You were the first person who came to mind.’
‘It’s 324 892,’ she said, nodding at an ex-teacher as he went through the door. ‘Sorry you had to give up your weekend.’
‘You know what Helen’s like. I swear our office isn’t half as busy as she makes out, but she can’t seem to help herself, has to micromanage every detail. Anyway, how are you liking the big smoke?’
She hesitated, not wanting to talk about the argument with Hugh. ‘It’s been nice to get a decent coffee and to see everyone again. But I have to say, I’ve been a bit worried about what’s happening in Toowoomba while I’ve been away.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Two nights ago someone threw a brick through my bedroom window,’ she said, wondering whether she’d get more sympathy from Lachlan than she had from Isabell.
‘Jesus. Did you report it to the police?’
‘They told me they were unlikely to get a match with the fingerprints, so the chances of finding the person are slim.’
‘I can’t even imagine …’
She pictured him grimacing on the other end of the line. ‘As well as that, I’ve developed a bit of a friendship with the boy next door and I got the sense that he wasn’t entirely happy about me leaving for Sydney.’ She paused, realising how strange she must sound. ‘He was in foster care before he started living with his grandmother and he’s a sweet kid, so I’ve been spending time with him.’
‘Fair enough.’
There was a moment of silence.
‘Anyway,’ she said, trying to move on. ‘I’d hoped that being away might give me some perspective on Crows Nest and some of our clients who live there, but I’m not sure it has.’
‘Well, if you ask me, I’d say it was like that town in Wake in Fright where everyone has a gun, gets real drunk and tries to kill things.’
‘And that’s it?’
There was a pop and a fizzing down the end of the line. It sounded like Lachlan was mixing a drink. ‘I don’t know.’ He paused, and she heard him take a sip from his drink. ‘I guess people usually end up as products of their environment, and in Crows Nest, the women end up becoming victims – usually by being trapped in dysfunctional relationships. And the men metamorphosise into something else.’
‘What exactly?’
‘They end up hard. They take shortcuts to deal with their pain and most of it, like the drugs, the violence and the criminal activity, is highly immoral. But it’s almost impossible to be a moral person when you’re trying to survive from day to day.’
‘You really think so?’
He laughed. ‘Probably just my late-night rambling.’
‘Sorry.’ Her cheeks flushed. He’d rung for the security code and she’d ended up giving him her life story. ‘I should let you go. Good luck with that affidavit. I’ll see you on Monday.’
Back inside she circled the room, taking in the memorabilia on the walls, pictures of smiling schoolgirls, the high school orchestra and hockey teams.
The moon was high in the sky when she found the school captains’ honour board. A deep nostalgia washed over her as she remembered the heady days of her final years. The hopes and dreams she’d had for her future. The friendships she’d never quite managed to replace. The family she’d hoped for. With a sinking feeling, she located her name – Dana Gibson – in thin gold leaf. The last time she’d seen it, she was on the up and up. Her captaincy a crowning glory after years of achievement. Now the inscription seemed small and insignificant. Lost in the sea of those who’d come before and those who came after.
18
Her flight was delayed and by the time Dana arrived back in Toowoomba it was one o’clock in the afternoon. An eerie silence hung over Godsall Street as she stepped out of the taxi. The birds were quiet and there was no sound from the children in the park. Susan was on the front step of Dana’s house, her head in her hands and her normally neat hair in spikes over her head.
When she spotted Dana, she called out. ‘Angus is gone.’
A panicky sensation rose in Dana’s chest. She dumped her bags on the path. ‘When did you see him last?’
‘When he went to bed, at about eight last night.’ Susan’s face was pale with anxiety.
‘Did you call the police?’
‘No. They’re not interested. They said that the next time I called, I needed to be really sure he’s missing.’
Dana searched her mind. ‘Had you had an argument?’
‘No. He was his normal self. I let him read a book for an hour and then he went to bed.’
‘Any friends he could be with?’
Susan gave a grim smile. ‘We both know he doesn’t have any – that boy he sits with in the library, but that’s just safety in numbers.’
‘Look,’ said Dana, a sinking feeling gripping her stomach. ‘It hasn’t been very long, so we shouldn’t report him missing yet, but if you’ve got a photo of him, I’ll drive into town and ask if anyone’s seen him.’
‘He used to do this all the time, you know, a few years back, when he was with DOCS. They used to call him a runner because it wouldn’t matter what foster home they put him in, he’d always return to his mum. But he’s been so good lately. I thought he’d gotten over it.’ Susan searched Dana’s face. ‘Should I come with you?’
‘It’s best if you stay here. That way if he turns up someone will be home.’ Dana put a hand on Susan’s shoulder. ‘He’s a young boy. In all likelihood, he’s probably gone to the park, then lost track of time.’
Susan managed a weak smile. ‘Thank you. Call me if you hear anything.’
Dana dropped her bag inside and waited for Susan to retrieve the photograph of Angus. She got into the car and reached for her phone. As soon as it was in her hand it started ringing. She sighed when she saw the caller and immediately felt guilty.
‘Hi Mum,’
‘Dana.’ Her mother sounded breathless. ‘You have to let me know about Melbourne. Lorraine said she can’t keep the unit any longer than a month. She’s thinking of letting it to one of her daughter’s friends.’
‘Sorry, Mum. It’s a bad time. There’s a missing kid and we’ve just started searching. I’ll get back to you soon. I promise.’
She hung up and called Lachlan.
‘Lachlan, it’s Dana.’
‘Dana,’ he said. Children were screaming in the background. ‘How are you? How was the reunion?’
‘Not bad,’ she lied. ‘Sorry to call on a Sunday, but I was hoping you could help me. My neighbour, Angus, is missing. And I’m trying to find him.’
‘That boy you hang out with?’
‘That’s the one. I’m afraid my trip might have set off his abandonment issues.’
‘Okay, okay,’ he said. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘If you could do a bit of a search around Toowoomba, check the park, the Bell Street Mall. Have a chat to Ian Steinmann to see if he’s heard anything. I’ll drive to Crows Nest and see if he’s there.’
‘Why would he be in Crows Nest?’
She hesitated. ‘He’s become very interested in the Kirby–Vickers murders … I may have let him do some investigating with me.’
‘Oh, Dana …’
‘I know. If you can just help me find him I can sort the rest out later.’
‘Alright,’ he said. ‘I’ll drop these lunatic kids off with my wife and then I’ll get onto it.’
‘Great. Maybe try the library first. He’s been known to hole up there for hours. And Lachlan,’ she said, taking a breath, ‘thank you.’
‘You can repay me by typing some more case notes. I’ve got a whole pile on the go.’
‘Consider it done.’
She hung up and sped past Highfields, Cabarlah and Hampton in record time, flying down the hill past the cow paddocks and deserted tourist park to the township of Crows Nest. She passed the police station and considered going in, but remembered Angus’s mistrust of authority and went to the newsagency instead.
Inside, the same raven-haired woman with a white stripe along her part line was behind the counter sifting through magazines.
Dana took Angus’s school photo from her handbag and held it out over the counter. ‘You haven’t seen this boy around this morning, have you? His name’s Angus and he’s been missing since last night.’
The woman reached for her reading glasses and squinted at the photograph. ‘No. He looks like a sweet little fella though.’
Dana felt a panicky sensation rise in her chest.
‘You know what I can do?’ The woman smiled sympathetically. ‘My brother’s a cabbie. He starts his shift in an hour. I’ll get him to keep an eye out for you. And why don’t you give me that picture and leave your number. I can make a copy of it and ask anyone who comes in.’
Dana’s heart swelled with gratitude. ‘That’s so kind,’ she said, giving the woman her phone number and handing over the photo for her to copy.
‘My name’s Tracey,’ she said. ‘I don’t think we’ve met.’
‘Dana Gibson.’
‘Is he in care, like Chrystal?’
‘No, nothing like that.’ Dana remembered the kindness of country folk was often equalled by their curiosity. ‘His grandmother’s a friend.’
‘Well, I’ll keep my ears open and let you know if I hear anything. Try not to worry yourself too much. They usually show up.’
Tracey handed back the photograph. Dana was turning to leave the shop when something at the rear of the store caught her eye, a banner pinned up against the back wall announcing a stocktake sale. Something twigged in her memory.
‘I can’t believe it’s that time of year again.’ Dana nodded in the direction of the sign.
Tracey looked up at her from over her glasses ‘Copies of the Women’s Weekly are going cheap, a heap of the stationery’s on sale, too.’
‘I’m fine,’ Dana said quickly. Her heart hammered in her chest. ‘I remembered Chrystal telling me how she helped you prepare for the stocktake.’
‘Chrystal said that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Really?’ Tracey’s eyes narrowed. ‘She’s never helped with the stocktake. My husband and I do it ourselves. Years ago, we used to let the juniors help, but it always came back to bite us. They’d start daydreaming and lose count of the inventory they were supposed to be keeping track of.’ She frowned. ‘So we gave up on that practice. She told you we let her help?’
Dana nodded.
‘That’s strange,’ she said, punctuating her words with the slap of the pricing gun firing a label onto a magazine.
Dana dawdled back to the car and mulled over the conversation with Tracey. In her interview with the police, Chrystal had said that Sandra wanted her to stay home from work the day she and Debbie died, she said Sandra wanted to tell her something important, but Chrystal was needed at work for the stocktake. The next day they were dead and Chrystal’s only hope of finding out what was on Sandra’s mind had turned to dust.
Dana was doing up her seatbelt in the stuffy car when it hit her. There was only one explanation for what the woman in the newsagency had told her.
Chrystal had lied.
But why? Why lie about something so mundane as doing the stocktake?
She started the engine, bringing herself back to the task at hand. She had a vision of Angus on a reconnaissance mission, spying on the Kirby family. But when she passed the Creek Street house, the curtains were drawn and the carport empty.
She drove on to the church and then to the nursing home where Betty Vickers lived. Then later, to the square, the pub and Raven’s Roost café. All places they’d talked about.
Nothing.
A tightness prickled her chest. She was running out of places to look. Where would she go if she was a young boy researching a real-life murder mystery? The idea that came to mind made her sick to her stomach. He was obsessed with Debbie Vickers, with the idea that she’d been hard done by. Dana sped up the road to Debbie’s flat. She’d only made it past the rotunda at the top of the square when she saw him, trudging along the street with a backpack and a bandana around his head. She skidded over to the kerb and yanked on the handbrake.
‘Angus,’ she yelled. ‘What are you doing?’
He stopped walking. His cheeks were apple red and his forehead shiny with sweat. He looked spooked, as though he’d seen something that wasn’t meant for him.
‘Jesus Christ,’ she said. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been driving for hours and your nan’s at home worried sick about you. You’ve scared everyone to death.’
Her words were harsher than she’d intended and when his bottom lip started to quiver, she knew she’d gone too far.
‘It’s okay,’ she said, feeling terrible. ‘Hop in the car and I’ll drive you home.’
Once they were back on the main road, Dana glanced over at him. ‘So, where’d you go?’
‘I don’t want you to be angry with me.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I broke into Debbie Vickers’s house.’
She gripped the steering wheel tightly. ‘I was afraid you’d say that.’
She pulled over at Crows Nest Soft Drinks, an old brick factory with a slanted green roof and awnings over the doors. Inside, they stood in front of a refrigerator containing old-fashioned bottles in every colour of the rainbow.
‘What flavour would you like?’ she asked him.
‘That one.’ He pointed to a cerulean-blue bottle of lemonade.
She chose a double sarsaparilla and settled Angus at a table before going outside to call Susan and then Lachlan.
Lachlan exhaled down the phone. ‘That’s a relief.’
She leant against a telephone pole. A motorbike cruised down the street. ‘You don’t feel like coming over for dinner later?’ she asked. ‘I need to bend your ear about work.’
‘Sure. Seven sound okay?’
‘See you then.’
She returned to Angus, handing him the sandwich she still had in her handbag from the flight. The food and drink seemed to revive him and he chatted about his nan and the plans they had for his birthday.
