Morgan's Law (25 page)

Sarah stared at the words on the screen.
A shearer named
Bluey someone
. June Perry's words came back to her and a cold prickle of dread ran down her spine. The dates put Rose's disappearance close to the time this Bluey had supposedly died of unnatural causes. Coincidence? Something told her it wasn't.

She printed out all the articles on Rose and the few referring to Charles Jenkins and thanked George for keeping the museum open a bit later than usual so she could finish up.

Walking out, she paused before a large grainy black and white photo hanging on the wall, showing a grand house. Its impressive double-storey structure and intricate wroughtiron lace trimmings displayed expert craftsmanship. An engraved plaque on the bottom of the frame told her it was the original Burrapine homestead, built in 1876. On the top balcony stood a man and a woman, and Sarah stepped closer to see if she could make out their features. Anita Morgan was tall and elegant, and her husband, James, had the same broad shoulders as the Morgan men she had met.

The sadness she felt when she looked at the photo of Rose descended upon her again as she gazed at the couple on the balcony. No one had known when the photo was taken that it would be a matter of months, or mere days, before this amazing house and the beautiful young woman, wrapped so lovingly in her husband's arms, would both be gone forever. Sarah left the museum with a heavy heart and troubled mind.

Sarah gave Tash a preoccupied smile as she pulled out a chair and sat down in the courtyard that evening.

‘What are you looking so down in the dumps about?' Tash asked, swirling the pale contents of her wineglass around casually.

‘I found out some things today but I can't seem to make much sense of them.' Sarah handed over the printouts of the articles.

‘Perhaps start by just looking at the facts,' Tash suggested before turning her attention to the printouts.

The facts? Sarah sighed inwardly. Fact one, Rose, a naive, wounded teenager, was playing games with a man who was obviously older and by all accounts liked to drink and fight.

Fact two: Rose was pregnant when she left Negallan.

Fact three: Bluey was a fiery redhead, much like her own mother.

After Tash had finished reading through the articles she leaned back in her chair and let out a soft whistle. ‘You know, before you came to town it was peaceful around here,' she joked, trying to make light of the new discovery.

‘I feel like I'm stuck in some twilight zone. I just don't know what to believe.'

‘Is it a coincidence that Bluey winds up dead in a ditch and your gran leaves town?'

Sarah stared wordlessly at her friend who'd voiced the same thoughts she had been tossing over herself. Did Gran have something to do with it? Maybe she'd pushed this Bluey guy too far and he'd attacked her? Maybe she'd accidentally killed him and then had run away. She was barely seventeen at the time—what kid that age would be able to handle something that traumatic? It was highly likely a terrified teenager
would
run away from home after that.

‘There're a few possible scenarios,' she pointed out eventually. ‘Gran isn't the only suspect here. What about this guy she was supposedly trying to make jealous? We still have no idea who or where he fits in. It's possible her ploy worked. Maybe he confronted Bluey and things turned nasty?'

‘It's possible,' Tash agreed, though her expression remained troubled.

‘But what?' Sarah asked.

‘It's just that, well . . .' started Tash, looking serious. ‘I get a bad vibe about stirring all this up.'

‘You were the one telling me it was some big exciting mystery!'

‘That was when I thought it was all about fulfilling your gran's last wish, not,' Tash lowered her voice to a whisper, ‘murder. Your gran may be gone, Sarah, but there are other people of her generation still here. I don't think it's a good idea to mess around with this stuff.'

‘Yeah well, this affects my family too, and in light of everything I've found out about this Jenkins guy, I'd say it's more important than ever that I figure out what went on out here.'

‘It happened over sixty years ago! It's hardly like we've got some serial killer on the loose! And for all we know, it could have been someone passing through town.'

‘Or it could mean someone from this town is a murderer, and they may still be living here.'

Tash didn't look convinced. ‘I just hope what you get out of all this is worth it.' She gave Sarah's hand a gentle squeeze as she got to her feet and went back to serve behind the bar.

Sarah sat brooding by herself at the empty table, lost in a jumble of emotions and unanswered questions.

Twenty-Three

Central command for Cott & Co had outgrown Tash's office and had spread out onto a few large tables at the back of the main bar, where Tash could work and be available for input and questions.

Sarah disconnected the phone call she'd been on and looked up at Tash with a grin. ‘Guess who just got you an interview with the ABC this week?'

Tash looked dismayed. ‘An interview? As in a tele

‘Yep.'

‘I can't do a TV interview,' Tash protested, staring at Sarah like a kangaroo caught in the headlights.

‘Why not?'

‘Television? It goes out to the whole country. I can't do that.'

‘Exactly, it advertises our venture to the whole country—you can't buy that kind of advertising. Actually, you can, but not on our budget. What's the problem? You've been standing up in front of people at the meetings and the roadshow—you're great at public speaking.'

‘That's been in front of people I know . . . It's different.'

‘This is even easier—you don't actually see anyone, it's just the reporter and a handful of technical people hanging around. You'll be fine.'

‘Can't
you
do it? You're much better at all this. You practically write everything I say anyway.'

‘It's not my project—it's yours and you are the heart and soul of this thing. No one can sell it with as much passion as you can,' Sarah said firmly as Tash sent her a doubtful glance. ‘I'll be there with you and we'll get you all prepared beforehand. It'll be okay.'

Sarah's phone bleeped and cut off her pep talk. The deep voice in her ear sent goosebumps up her arm. ‘Missed me?'

She felt a small blush creeping up her neck. ‘Hi,' she stammered, wincing as she caught Tash's narrowed gaze. She turned away to take the call in private.

‘Well? Have you?' She could hear the amusement in Adam's voice, knowing that his words would throw her off balance. The previous night he'd been working late to repair his tractor and hadn't been able to come into town. He'd sounded tired when he'd called late at night to apologise.

‘Yes, actually. It's been way too peaceful and quiet,' she murmured, sending harried smiles to people as she walked through the pub to find somewhere quiet.

‘I can fix that problem. I'm coming in later.'

Her step faltered a little as she pushed open the door to go outside. ‘Oh. Great.'

There was a short silence. ‘Don't sound
too
enthusiastic.'

‘Sorry, it's just that Tash's back.'

‘And?'

‘It kinda makes everything a little bit more . . . complicated.'

‘How?'

‘I haven't actually told her about us.'

‘So?'

‘Isn't that going to be a bit weird?'

‘I'm pretty sure Tash's grown up enough to handle it,' he drawled. ‘Do you want to come out here instead?'

‘Your pop's out there.' She heard him give an impatient sigh and scuffed her canvas shoe in the gap between the pavers, squishing a few tiny weeds that poked up.

‘So what would you like me to do, Sarah?'

Not make my life this complicated
, was the first thing that came to mind. Who was she kidding, she missed him when he wasn't around; the time they'd spent together the last few days had been wonderful. ‘I'll come out there later.'

A short, almost relieved breath sounded on the other end of the line. ‘I'll be finished this afternoon, come out whenever you're ready.'

Was
she ready? Everything had been fine until the outside world had begun to creep into their little piece of paradise, but now it felt as though she were being cornered. She didn't want to explain herself to people, yet she knew that very soon she would have to do just that.

As usual the house was quiet when Sarah arrived at Gwandalan that afternoon.

Adam had said she should make herself at home while she waited for him, so after knocking on the screen door and not hearing any response, she opened it and went inside, calling out a hello as she did so. When she couldn't find any sign of William in the kitchen or lounge room, she began to worry something might be wrong. Shrugging off the guilty sensation that she was trespassing, she walked further into the house to see if she could find him. She'd never been past the lounge room on her previous visits, and as she tiptoed along the hallway, opening doors cautiously, she began to feel more and more uncomfortable.

After reaching the end of the hallway and finding all three bedrooms empty, she opened the last door to discover it was an office. As she was about to close the door and search outside, something caught her eye and she froze, hand still on the doorknob, as a strange shiver crept up her spine.

On the far wall of the office was a framed sketch, and Sarah walked across the room to get a closer look. Whoever had sketched the drawing had paid close attention to detail; a large gum tree with twisted branches dominated the scene, but it was the shadowy figure of a couple embracing beneath it that had caught her attention. The couple had no facial features; they were shaded and mysterious, silhouettes against the bush backdrop, but the female figure had long dark hair. Sarah peered closely; she could just make out a faint etching in the incredibly detailed trunk of the massive tree of two initials . . . RM and WB.

A noise behind her made Sarah turn in fright. William Buchanan was standing in the doorway watching her.

‘This is the wishing tree, isn't it,' she said.

The slight incline of his head sent a rush of emotion washing over her. All this time she'd been looking for some kind of sign the damn tree was real and it had been hanging on the wall of his office all along.

‘Why have you got this?' she asked.

The old man closed his eyes.

In a flash she remembered the initials and suddenly it all fell into place. ‘You're him,' she whispered. ‘You're the man Rose was making jealous.'

William gave a grunt that she took to be an affirmative, before he shuffled further into the room and took a seat behind the large desk. The way he gently swivelled the old red leather chair gave her the impression that this had once been a familiar habit, one he hadn't indulged in for quite some time.

Sarah knew she would have to handle this carefully. ‘Do you know why Rose left Negallan?' she asked quietly.

‘Until you turned up, I didn't know for sure she even did leave the area. For the last sixty or so years, a lot of people around here thought she was dead.'

‘Did you?'

William let out a long sigh before admitting quietly, ‘No. I guess I never really believed it.'

‘What happened to make her leave?'

William leaned back and gazed out the window.

‘Exactly what was your relationship with Rose? I asked you before and you said you knew her.'

‘We were courting. We wanted to get married.'

Sarah held her breath and waited for William to continue.

‘I'd been sweet on her from the moment I saw her.'

‘How did you meet?'

A gentle smile touched the old man's lips. ‘I helped her pick up a bag of groceries one day. I'd just put a down payment on this piece of land. I wanted it to be a clean start—put the war years behind me—when I rounded the corner and ran into the most beautiful girl I'd ever laid eyes on.' He paused, a slight smile lingering on his lips as he recalled the incident. ‘Before I was discharged, I'd been in and out of army hospitals for months—almost lost my leg,' he told her, rubbing his right thigh absently and no doubt recalling all the pain and misery the memory evoked. ‘The moment I set eyes on that girl, well, it was like a blast of oxygen. She was sixteen, and I was twenty-four and I knew then and there I'd do whatever it took to marry her.'