The Dry (19 page)

He selected a ham one, and they sat side by side on the bench. She stretched out her legs again, her thigh warm against his. She had thongs on her feet, and her toenails were a shiny pink.

“Well, this is absolutely nothing like I remember. It's amazing,” Falk said, watching the kids scrambling over the equipment. “Where did the money come from for all this?”

“I know. It was a rural charity thing. We got lucky a couple of years ago from some rich do-gooders' fund. I shouldn't make fun. It's brilliant really. Nicest place in town now. And it's always packed. The kids love it. Even if I was heartbroken to see our old bench go.” She smiled as they watched a toddler bury his friend in the sandpit. “But it's great for the little ones. God knows, they haven't got much else going for them round here.”

Falk pictured the peeling paint and lone basketball hoop in the school playground. “Makes up for the school, I guess. That was more run-down than I remembered.”

“Yeah. Another thing you can thank the drought for.” Gretchen opened a bottle of water and took a sip. She tilted it toward him the same way she used to offer vodka. Easy intimacy. He took it. “There's no community money,” she said. “Everything this town gets from the government goes toward farming subsidies, so there's nothing left for the kids. But we're lucky to have Scott as the principal over there. At least he actually seems to give a toss. But there's only so much you can do with an empty bank balance. There's no way we can ask the parents for any more.”

“You can't tap the rich do-gooders again?”

She gave a sad smile. “We've tried that, actually. We thought we were in line for a windfall this year. It was a different mob from the playground, though. This was some private group, the Crossley Educational Trust. You ever heard of them?”

“I don't think so.”

“Typical bleeding-heart types, but it sounded right up our street. They give cash to struggling rural schools, but apparently there are other schools more rural or struggling than us, if you can believe it. God help them. We made the short list, but no dice this time. We'll look around, try again next year, I suppose, but until then, who knows? Anyway.” She broke off to wave at her son, who was standing at the top of a slide trying to get their attention. He slid down as they watched. “Lachie's happy there for now, so that's something, at least.”

She reached for the Tupperware as the little boy ran over. Gretchen held out a sandwich, but her son ignored her, staring instead at Falk.

“Hi, mate.” Falk held out his hand. “I'm Aaron. We met the other day, remember? Your mum and I were friends when we were younger.”

Lachie shook his hand and grinned at the novelty of the action.

“Did you see me on the slide?”

“We did,” Gretchen said, but the question wasn't aimed at her. Falk nodded.

“You were really brave, mate,” Falk said. “That looks pretty high.”

“I can do it again. Watch.” Lachie took off. Gretchen watched him go with a funny look on her face. The kid waited until he had Falk's full attention before he went. He ran straight around to do it again. Falk gave him a thumbs-up.

“Thanks,” Gretchen said. “He's obsessed with grown men at the moment. I think he's starting to see the other kids with dads and … well, you know.” She shrugged. Didn't meet Falk's eye. “Still, that's what motherhood's about, isn't it? Eighteen years of crushing guilt?”

“His dad not involved at all?” Falk heard the note of curiosity in his own voice.

Gretchen heard it as well and smiled knowingly.

“No. And it's OK; you can ask. His dad's gone. No one you knew. Not a local, just a laborer who passed through for a while. I don't know much about him other than he left me with this amazing kid. And yes, I know how that sounds.”

“It doesn't sound like anything. It sounds like Lachie's lucky to have you,” Falk said. But as he watched the child clamber athletically up the ladder, he found himself wondering what Lachie's father had looked like.

“Thanks. It doesn't always feel that way. I wonder sometimes if I should make an effort to meet someone. For both of us. Try to give Lachie a bit of a family. Let him see what it's like to have a mum who's not stressed and exhausted all the time, whatever that looks like. But I don't know…” She trailed off, and Falk was worried she was embarrassed, when she flashed him a grin. “It's a bloody shallow dating pool in Kiewarra. Muddy puddle at best.”

Falk laughed.

“So you never got married at all?” he said, and Gretchen shook her head.

“Nope. Never did.”

“Me neither.”

Gretchen's eyes crinkled with amusement. “Yeah, I know.”

Falk was never sure how, but women always seemed to know. They looked sideways and smiled at each other. Falk imagined Gretchen and Lachie living by themselves on the vast Kellerman property she'd bought, and he remembered the eerie isolation of the Hadlers' farm. Even Falk, who liked his own space more than most, started to crave company after a few hours with nothing but fields.

“You must get lonely on the farm on your own,” he said, and he could have bitten his tongue off. “Sorry. That was a genuine question, not a terrible pickup line.”

Gretchen laughed. “I know. With lines like that, you'd fit in better round here than you think.” Her face clouded. “But yeah. It can be an issue. It's not really the lack of company; it's feeling cut off that gets me a bit. I can't get reliable Internet, and even the phone coverage is patchy. Not that I've got loads of people trying to call me, anyway.” She paused, her mouth pressed into a tight line. “You know I didn't even find out what had happened to Luke until the next morning?”

“Seriously?” Falk was shocked.

“Yep. Not one person thought to ring me. Not Gerry and Barb. No one. Despite everything we've been through, I guess I…” She gave a tiny shrug. “I wasn't a priority. On the afternoon it happened, I picked up Lachie from school, went home, had dinner. He went to bed. I watched a DVD. It was so ordinary and boring, but it was like the last normal evening, you know? Nothing special, but I'd give anything to go back to that. It wasn't until the next morning at the school gates and I turned up and
everyone
was talking about it. It felt like they all knew and…” A single tear slipped down her nose. “And no one had bothered to call me. I couldn't believe it. I mean, I literally couldn't believe what I was hearing. I drove past his farm but wasn't able to get anywhere near. The road was blocked, and there were cops everywhere. So I went home. By then it was on the news, of course. No chance of missing it then.”

“I'm so sorry, Gretch,” Falk said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “If it helps at all, no one called me either. I found out when I saw his face on a news site.” Falk could still feel the shock at seeing those familiar features attached to that terrible headline.

Gretchen nodded, and her gaze suddenly focused on something over his shoulder. Her expression clouded, and she hastily wiped her eyes.

“Christ, watch out. Incoming,” she said. “Mandy Vaser. You remember her? It was Mandy Mantel back then. Jesus, I cannot be bothered with this right now.”

Falk turned. The sharp-faced, ginger-haired girl he remembered as Mandy Mantel had morphed into a neat, tiny woman with a shiny red bob. She had a baby strapped to her chest in a complicated sling that looked like it would be made from natural fibers and advertised as “organic.” Her face was still sharp as she marched across the yellow grass.

“She married Tim Vaser. He was a year or two above us,” Gretchen whispered as she approached. “She's got a couple of kids in the school. Also got her hands full as the self-appointed spokeswoman of the anxious mothers' group.”

Mandy stopped in front of them. She looked from Falk to the ham sandwich he was holding and back again, her lip curled in distaste.

“Hi, Mandy,” he said. She pointedly ignored him, other than to place a protective hand around the back of her baby's skull, shielding it from his greeting.

“Gretchen. Sorry to interrupt.” She sounded nothing of the sort. “Could you pop over to our table for a moment? Just a quiet word.” Her eyes flicked smartly to Falk, then away.

“Mandy,” Gretchen said without enthusiasm. “You remember Aaron? From the old days? He's with the AFP now.” She emphasized the last words.

He and Mandy had kissed once, Falk remembered. At a youth disco, from what he could recall. She had surprised him by poking her fourteen-year-old tongue deep into his mouth, tasting strongly of cheap lemonade as mood lighting glowed against the walls of the school gym and a stereo blared in the corner. He wondered if she remembered. From the way she crinkled her brow and avoided eye contact, he was certain that she did.

“Nice to see you again.” Falk held out his hand, not because he particularly wanted to shake hers but because he could tell it would make her uncomfortable. She stared at it, making a visible effort to resist the automatic polite response. She succeeded and left him hanging in midair. He almost respected her a little bit for that.

“Gretchen.” Mandy was losing patience. “A word?”

Gretchen looked her straight in the eyes. She made no attempt to move.

“The sooner you say it, Mandy, the sooner I can tell you to mind your own business, and we can all get back to our Sundays.”

Mandy stiffened. She glanced over her shoulder to where a gang of mothers with similar hairstyles were watching from behind sunglasses.

“All right. Fine. I—
we
—don't feel comfortable with Aar—with
your friend
—being so close to our children.” She looked straight at Falk. “We'd like you to leave.”

“Noted,” Gretchen said.

“So he'll leave?”

“No,” Falk and Gretchen said in unison.

Falk actually thought it probably was about time he headed to the station to find Raco, but he wasn't about to be pushed around by Mandy bloody Mantel. Mandy's eyes narrowed. She leaned in.

“Listen,” she said. “At the moment it's me and the mums asking politely. But it can easily be the dads asking not so politely if you'd find that message easier to understand.”

“Mandy, for God's sake,” Gretchen snapped. “He's police. Do you hear what I'm saying?”

“Yeah, and we also all heard what he did to Ellie Deacon.” Around the playground, parents were looking on. “Seriously, Gretchen, you can't really be that desperate, can you? That you'd expose your
own son
like this? You're a mum now. Start acting like one.”

The man who had eventually become Mandy's husband had once written and publicly recited a poem for Gretchen one Valentine's Day, Falk recalled. No wonder the woman was relishing having the upper hand for once.

“If you're going to be spending time with this … person, Gretchen,” Mandy went on, “I've half a mind to alert social services. For Lachie's sake.”

“Hey—” Falk said, but Gretchen spoke over him.

“Mandy Vaser,” she said, her quiet voice like iron. “You think you're so all-knowing? Then do something smart for once in your life. Turn around and walk away.”

The woman straightened her spine, unwilling to yield ground.

“And Mandy? Watch yourself. If you do anything that causes my son to lose a single minute of sleep or shed one tear—” Gretchen's icy tone was one Falk hadn't heard before. She didn't finish the sentence, letting it hang in the air.

Mandy's eyes widened.

“Are you threatening me? That is aggressive language, and I take that as a threat. I can't believe you. After everything this town has been through.”

“You're the one threatening me! Social services, my arse.”

“I'm trying to keep Kiewarra safe for our kids. Is that too much to ask? Haven't things been bad enough? I know you didn't have much time for Karen, but you could at least show some respect, Gretchen.”

“That's enough, Mandy,” Falk said sharply. “For God's sake, shut up and leave us in peace.”

Mandy pointed at Falk.

“No. You leave.” She turned on her heel and stalked away. “I'm phoning my husband.” The words floated across the playground in her wake.

Gretchen's cheeks were flushed. As she took a sip of water, Falk saw that her hands were shaking. He reached out to touch her shoulder, then stopped, aware of people watching, not wanting to make it worse.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I shouldn't have met you here.”

“It's not you,” she said. “Tensions are high. The heat makes everything worse.” She took a deep breath and gave Falk a wobbly smile. “Plus Mandy's always been a bitch.”

He nodded. “That's fair.”

“And for the record, I didn't not like Karen. We just weren't close. There are loads of mums at school. You can't be friends with all of them. Obviously.” She nodded at Mandy's back.

Falk opened his mouth to respond when his phone buzzed. He ignored it. Gretchen smiled.

“It's OK. Get it.”

With an apologetic grimace he opened the text. He was on his feet almost before he'd finished reading it.

Five words from Raco:
Jamie Sullivan lied. Come now.

20

“He's in there.”

Falk peered through a thick glass panel in the door into the station's sole interview room. Jamie Sullivan sat at the table staring miserably into a paper cup. The farmer seemed somehow smaller than when they'd been sitting in his living room.

Falk had felt guilty leaving Gretchen in the park. He'd wavered as she'd looked him in the eye and said it was fine. He hadn't believed her, so she'd given him a smile and a push toward his car.

“Go. It's OK. Give me a call.”

He'd gone.