Lawson's Bend Page 21

  ‘Alright,’ he said, opening the car door.

  ‘You know you don’t have to walk me in, don’t you?’

  ‘I know, but I reckon if I’m lucky you’ll give me a goodnight kiss.’

  ‘It may have escaped your notice but I think that’s the sun over there,’ Henny said and pointed to the horizon.

  ‘Great, so maybe I can have a goodnight and a good-morning kiss as well,’ he said with a wink.

  Hand in hand they walked up the path and to the front steps. Henny jangled her keys as she unlocked the door then paused and shot Stephen a look.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.

  ‘Where’s Dover? Every time I come home he’s at the door before I can open it,’ Henny said.

  ‘It’s early, maybe he’s just asleep.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Henny said but she wasn’t convinced. ‘Dover, where are you?’ she called.

  ‘Hen, let me go first,’ Stephen said.

  But Henny was too intent on finding Dover. She hurried to the back of the house, calling his name as she went. All Stephen could do was keep up with her. Henny realised that something was very wrong as soon as she stepped into the lounge room. The room was cold and there was a chilly breeze blowing the notepads and fliers on the table. Then her gaze fell on the large floor-to-ceiling windows by the back door. One of them was shattered and as Henny drew near she could see drops of blood on the ground.

  ‘Dover,’ she whispered under her breath before turning to look at at Stephen in fright. ‘Where is he? What’s happened to him?’

  Stephen shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Hen. But don’t worry, we’ll find him. As for this,’ he gestured to the broken window, ‘it wasn’t an accident. Look.’

  Sitting in the middle of the broken glass was a large rock with a piece of paper tied to it with brown string.

  Henny squatted down and gingerly grabbed the rock, releasing the note and unfurling it.

  Stop making waves—or you might just drown.

  Henny dropped the note as she stood up. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked when she saw Stephen whip out his phone.

  ‘Calling the police.’

  ‘Right,’ she said. She made her way over the glass and through what was left of the window.

  ‘Henny, wait—where are you going?’

  Henny glanced over her shoulder. ‘To find my dog.’

  He wasn’t in the garden and that worried Henny even more. She looked everywhere, from the old potting shed to his favourite hidey hole under the bank of ivy that twisted and covered the corner of the back fence. Henny opened the gate and started along the dirt track that led to the bush. She wasn’t sure where to begin but all she could think to do was follow the track, calling his name as she went.

  Henny stopped as she heard pounding footsteps behind her and swung around to see Stephen running down the path.

  ‘Hey, the police are on their way. You should go and wait for them—I’ll keep looking for Dover,’ he said.

  She touched his hand. ‘Could you talk to the police? I think there’s a better chance of Dover coming to me than you. Would you mind?’

  ‘Sure, but have you got your phone so we can keep in touch? Give me a ring as soon as you find him.’

  ‘I promise,’ Henny said. She turned and continued down the track.

  After twenty fruitless minutes of searching, a wave of desperation was threatening to engulf Henny as she hunted through gorse and an undergrowth of tangled bush. Dover must have been terrified to run away from the house. The thought of him scared, possibly hurt, and alone almost broke her heart. Henny turned back, thinking that maybe he’d run in the opposite direction from the gate. As she hurried back up the track she thought she heard a hint of a soft whimper. Stopping, she tilted her head and prayed that she’d catch the sound again.

  ‘Dover? Dover, are you there?’ She fell silent again and waited, hoping the noise hadn’t been a figment of her imagination.

  The noise came again and Henny ran towards a small clump of saplings just off the track. On seeing her, Dover stood up and let out a whine. She reached him, dropped down on her knees and gave him a hug.

  ‘Are you alright? Thank God I found you,’ she said, holding him close. After a minute Dover began to wag his tail, which was an encouraging sign. She sat back and scanned him to see if he was hurt. He seemed okay until she realised that he was holding up his front right paw. Henny looked closer and saw that there was blood on it.

  ‘Oh, you have hurt yourself. Come on, we’re going home,’ she said, and scooped him up in her arms.

  It was a bit awkward and Dover wasn’t exactly a featherweight but Henny managed to carry him back home.

  ***

  Henny answered the few questions that the two constables who had been despatched to the house asked, but she was keen to hurry it along as she wanted to get Dover to the vet. And she purposely ignored Stephen’s hard stare when they asked if she had any idea why someone would lob a rock through her window, evading the answer.

  ‘What the hell was that about?’ Stephen asked, standing next to her while she waved to the police officers backing out of the drive.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said innocently.

  ‘Yes, you do. You know that this was a threat, the second you’ve had. Why didn’t you tell them that?’

  ‘Because if I told them what I believed they’d think I was crazy. Senior Sergeant Nichols had a hard enough time with me insisting that Harley’s death wasn’t an accident, how is it going to sound if I say that Mark Russo is around and threatening me?’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘I know, so at the moment I sound like some sort of crazy conspiracy theorist until I can prove it,’ Henny finished with a shrug. ‘Anyway, I need to get Dover to the vet. Are you heading home?’

  Stephen shook his head. ‘No, no, I’m not. What was the address of Mr Russo?’

  Henny stared at him for a second. ‘Stephen, what are you—’

  ‘We need the truth and the only way we’re going to do that is to confront Mark.’

  ‘If you wait until I’ve had Dover checked out, I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No, there’s someone else who has to come. Look after Dover and I’ll ring you if I discover anything,’ he said, briefly kissing her before walking towards his car.

  ‘Wait, Stephen! Who are you taking with you?’

  He glanced back over his shoulder. ‘Nick Russo.’

  ‘There’s no way you’re leaving me out of this. I’m coming with you whether you like it or not!’

  ‘But you’ve got to take Dover to the vet . . .’

  ‘Yes, and that’ll only take an hour or so. You can wait.’

  Stephen sighed. ‘I should’ve known. You’ve always been difficult!’

  Henny laughed. ‘You’d better get used to it!’

  ***

  The vet practice had been busy but they managed to squeeze in Dover. His paw pad was now clean and bandaged and he’d been given some medicine that could make him a little drowsy. It took some manoeuvring but Henny managed to carry him inside the house and put him in his bed. He settled down straight away for a nap and Henny went off in search of a strong cup of tea and the number of someone to replace her window.

  She was just sitting down when her phone rang; she smiled when she saw it was Charlie calling. After the morning she’d had it would be good to have a sympathetic ear.

  ‘Hey, Charlie. What’s up?’

  ‘I just thought I’d ring and make sure that you were okay. Stephen was in this morning and told me that some moron broke your window. I would have called earlier but we were short-staffed today and this is the first time I’ve had a few minutes to myself.’

  ‘Oh, thanks. I’m fine but Dover stood on the glass. I’ve just brought him back from the vet.’

  ‘Is he alright?’

  ‘Yep, he will be. He’s having a snooze at the moment.’

  ‘So, what a random thing to ha
ve happened—your window, I mean,’ Charlie continued.

  ‘I doubt that. It was because I’ve been asking questions—someone wants me to stop.’

  Charlie was quiet for a moment before she said, ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve been asking questions about the accident at the res, about Mark Russo and Harley, and someone doesn’t seem to like it much. I swear, Charlie, something happened that night—something that we don’t know about. Whatever it was, Harley knew and he tried to warn me. There are questions that need to be answered.’

  ‘Hang on, Henny—I’m moving to the back of the shop for privacy.’

  ‘Alright,’ she said with a frown, wondering why.

  ‘Are you still there?’ Charlie asked after a moment or two.

  ‘Yes.’

  Charlie dropped her voice. ‘Listen, maybe there’s something you should know about Georgie. I’ve never told anyone this because I didn’t want to get into trouble but I read some of Dad’s papers when he was working on the case. I’d dropped in to see him at the station a couple of weeks after the accident at the res and he was called away. He told me to wait but as the time dragged on I got bored and flicked open the first file on his desk. I know, bad daughter, I’m not proud of it.’

  ‘Charlie, what did you find out?’

  ‘Not much but there was one thing. It was never made public, but according to the report, Georgie’s death was attributed to drowning—and the effects of alcohol and drugs in her system.’

  ‘Drugs? No way. Georgie would never have taken drugs. You know that as well as I do.’

  ‘Of course she didn’t. I figured that there must have been a mistake, but I couldn’t say anything since I wasn’t supposed to read that stuff.’

  ‘Well, what else did the report say?’

  ‘I don’t know. I heard Dad coming back and I couldn’t read anymore. Her death was probably an accident just like the others but . . .’

  ‘Maybe it was something more. Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?’

  ‘I haven’t told anyone. I felt bad for reading the file, and it didn’t seem that important when it’s always been seen as a horrible accident. But now that you’re trying to put the pieces back together and work out what happened that night . . . I don’t know, maybe it is important, and it’s bothered me for so long,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ve always wanted to discuss it with Dad but then he’d know that I was mucking about with his papers.’

  ‘Geez. Thanks, Charlie. Listen, I need to mull this over. Are you ever going to tell him?’

  ‘I don’t know—maybe I should,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Hey, it was a long time ago. Your dad loves you—I think he’d forgive you for peeping where you shouldn’t. I’ll call you soon, okay?’

  ‘Yeah, maybe you’re right. I’ll talk to you later.’ She hung up.

  Henny sat for a moment as she tried to insert this the new information into her understanding of that long ago night. ‘So what the hell happened?’ she whispered under her breath.

  Chapter Thirty

  Henny followed Nick through the 50s-style metal gate and then up the step to the narrow verandah. He gave a couple of raps on the door before leaning on the door frame. A moment passed and then another.

  Henny glanced over her shoulder at Stephen and shrugged. She was about to say something inane like ‘maybe no one’s home’ when the door jerked open. Mark stood there with a frown on his face. Ignoring it, Nick grinned and hugged his brother.

  ‘I told you that I didn’t want to talk to anyone. No offense Henny,’ Mark said as he looked over his brother’s shoulder. ‘But I just wanted to be left alone.’ Begrudgingly Mark stepped back to let them into the house.

  ‘Hey, Mark,’ said Stephen. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Same as always, Bro.’ Mark clasped Stephen on the shoulder. ‘Come on—this way.’

  They walked into the lounge room, which consisted of a large window, two well-worn brown couches and a small coffee table. There was a television mounted on the wall and several large cardboard boxes stacked in one corner.

  ‘Take a seat,’ Mark said before gesturing to the boxes. ‘Sorry about the mess. We’ve just started fixing up the nursery and the cot and all the other stuff has to be in here until it’s done.’

  ‘Congratulations on the baby,’ Stephen said. ‘That’s great news.’

  ‘Yeah it is,’ Mark replied with a smile. It was the first one he’d made since they arrived, Henny noted. ‘Anyway, Henny, you wanted to ask me something for that thing you’re writing.’

  Henny looked over at Stephen. ‘Actually Mark, I was wondering if you could tell me what happened at the res?’

  ‘Geez, Hen, you were there—you know what happened.’

  ‘Yes, but I want to hear it from your perspective. We know that you saved Harley from drowning but what happened after that?’ Henny asked.

  ‘I went back in to help and ended up having to get rescued myself,’ Mark replied. ‘It’s common knowledge. I was always a bit embarrassed about having to be pulled out, but there you go.’

  ‘Don’t bullshit, Mark. We know that you’re leaving something out,’ Stephen said.

  Nick frowned and glanced at Stephen. ‘Hey, easy on, mate. You come into a guy’s house and speak to him like that?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I really am,’ Henny said. ‘We don’t want to upset you but we really need to know the truth. Something happened between the time you fished Harley out and when you were rescued. Please Mark, please tell us what happened.’

  Mark shot Nick a look but remained silent.

  ‘Mark,’ Henny continued. ‘I don’t think that Harley’s death was an accident.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Mark asked. ‘He’s dead?’

  Henny looked over her shoulder then nodded her head. ‘Yes. I think Harley knew something and someone wanted to keep him quiet.’

  ‘Harley was an innocent—why would anyone hurt him?’

  ‘Because he saw you up on the cliff,’ Henny said.

  The colour drained from Mark’s face. His hand came up and clamped over his mouth as if he was trying to stop any words from spilling out.

  ‘Mark are you alright?’ Nick asked.

  He shook his head. ‘I need you to leave. I don’t remember what happened after I made it to shore with Harley. It was a long time ago and I don’t want to relive it. Sorry you drove all this way for nothing.’

  ‘Mark, please . . .’ Henny said, standing up, but he was already heading for the door.

  ‘I have nothing more to say to you,’ he said before disappearing into the next room.

  Henny and Stephen looked at each other.

  ‘I’m sorry guys,’ Nick said. ‘I can’t imagine what’s come over him. I guess you’d better get out of here.’

  ‘I’m sorry that I upset him,’ Henny said.

  ‘Yeah well, I don’t know what that’s all about,’ Nick confessed. ‘Listen, I want to go and check on him—I’ll meet you at the car in a while.’

  ‘Sure,’ Stephen said as he took Henny’s hand. ‘We’ll see you outside.’

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Mark

  Killop Reservoir, 2 February 2008

  Mark hurried away from the barbeque area and headed further along the bank. He needed to get away from the sirens, shouts and crying. The night air was still warm, and yet he shivered as he headed towards the hill. The track was difficult to see in the darkness but the moon cast enough light for him to weave in and out of the trees. The land began to rise and the bank of the res went from kissing the water’s edge to almost a sheer cliff with a steep fall. There’d been talk of having this part of the reservoir cordoned off or at least a fence or rail erected so that some unfortunate fool wouldn’t go over the edge. It probably wouldn’t kill you—but it would hurt like hell.

  Mark turned around and looked back down the hill. From up here he could make out the flood lights, which shone out into the black water, the flashing lights from the emerg
ency services vehicles and the line of cars that were pulling up in the car park. There were people, his friends—running, crying and huddling together in small groups. Guilt bit at his heels as he turned around and made the last bit of the climb, through the stringy saplings until he stepped out onto a levelled area that had been cleared. Dan was already waiting for him. He was standing with his back towards Mark, staring out across the inky water of the res.

  He glanced over his shoulder as he heard Mark approach. Mark’s eyes seemed almost hollow and his face drawn.

  ‘So what do you want?’ Dan said, turning towards him.

  ‘What do I want—is that all you can say?’ Mark said.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Like hell, you don’t. This is on you and don’t pretend it isn’t.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Georgie is and it’s your fault,’ Mark said and he pointed at Dan.

  ‘Geez, Mark, it was an accident. The bloody platform collapsed—how could that be my fault?’ Dan said wearily. ‘I dived for her over and over again but I couldn’t find her.’

  ‘There’s still a couple unaccounted for. The divers are going in now.’

  Dan rubbed his hand over his eyes. ‘So there’s no hope?’

  ‘Not much, not now—it’s been too long.’

  ‘Shit.’ Dan said. He looked up into the starry sky and dragged in a breath.

  ‘I’m not blaming you for the platform, but let’s be real. You gave her some pills didn’t you? And Georgie would be safe on shore if you hadn’t given her them.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ Dan said, shaking his head as if to brush away Mark’s accusations.

  ‘Yeah, I do. Georgie is a good swimmer, hell she’s even on the swim team. If anyone should have made it out of the water, it was her.’

  ‘I didn’t give her all the stuff—you’ve got to believe that. I’d never hurt Georgie.’ Dan glanced down at the ground as if he couldn’t look Mark in the eyes.

  Mark glared at Dan. ‘But you did. Anyway, you have to own up to it and tell the police.’

  Slowly Dan raised his head and stared back at Mark. ‘Are you serious?’