Our house backs onto a stretch of land that is about a kilometre long and a few hundred metres wide. It is dotted with thick trees, squat shrubs and patchy grass. It’s not a thoroughfare. Unless you live nearby you wouldn’t even know it was here. Unless you’d been watching the house, I think. Is the woman who took Ben the same person who killed Rosalind, trying to warn me off, or are the roses just a decoy for something else? Is she working with someone? Being paid by someone to spook me off the case? The Ryans have money; they could probably arrange something like this. I push away the possibility that it’s an inside job, that someone wants me to give up and admit defeat. Inviting paranoia in won’t help me right now.
I think about the marks on Rosalind’s neck and can’t imagine a woman doing that. Careful, I warn myself. I know better than most what women are capable of if pushed hard enough. Maybe there are two people working together—but then why kill her? What would they gain from her death? And how would the woman know about the gate in the fence to the backyard? Back in high school I was out here all the time, climbing trees or having picnics. Mum and I even camped in the reserve one night, but I’ve barely been out here in years. Placing my hands on my hips I look up at the sky. I stare into the blue, trying to let the pieces fall into place. Nothing. None of it makes sense.
I look back at the house. The gate is open and I can see Scott and Ben through the window. Scott is laughing. He kisses Ben on the top of his head. I look along the line of the fence. I remember Jacob pushing me against the slats and kissing me with Dad just metres away inside. I felt so safe out here in the dark, Jacob’s strong arms wrapped around me.
I imagine the woman who took Ben standing out here last night listening to him cry, hearing us come outside to find him. Disappearing into thin air. I spin around, half expecting to see a face quickly slipping back behind a tree. I scan the bush. The sun is breaking through the far side. A butterfly slowly beats its way from one shrub to the next. Goosebumps break out across my arms and legs. Our house suddenly seems awfully exposed and vulnerable alongside this strip of peaceful, untouched nature.
Chapter Forty-six
Tuesday, 22 December, 9.25 am
‘Woodstock, I don’t remember calling you,’ says Jonesy.
‘I know, sir, but I wanted to be here. I wanted to know if you had turned up anything yet.’
‘Would have called you if we did.’ Jonesy is gruff but there is an undertone of kindness. ‘How’s Ben?’
Eyes make holes as they bore into me. The soft murmur of conversation niggles like a stray itch. ‘He’s fine. He’s young, he doesn’t really know anything was wrong yesterday. He’s very trusting. Too trusting, obviously.’
‘Well thank goodness he turned up. But, Woodstock, you know this changes things.’
Felix walks in from the back office and my pulse skips a beat. Jonesy is still talking and I focus on his mouth but I can see the top of Felix’s head bobbing behind him and then disappear as he sits down at his desk.
‘Woodstock?’
‘Yes, I know. But I have to finish this case, sir. It’s personal now.’
‘That’s the issue though: it’s—’
‘Personal in a good way. I need to do this. Work out who took Ben. Jonesy, please.’
‘Okay. Okay, look. Lay low for a bit. Don’t touch anything to do with your boy, let Matthews handle that. You focus on the teacher. We need to keep that moving and we don’t know for certain that they are linked, anyway.’ He beckons me closer, indicating that he wants to talk into my ear. ‘I’m getting calls from the press on the hour. Your mate Candy Cane is a pain in the arse. Worse than my wife wanting the deck waterproofed before Christmas.’
‘You know she’s not my mate.’
‘Doesn’t matter. She’s right. Everyone wants this thing done by Christmas. It’s just the way it is.’
‘We’re doing what we can, sir. We’ve got more interviews today. More things to look into. We’ll crack it.’
He pulls away and does a signature slap and clasp on my upper arm. ‘Right, well, off you go then.’
Felix gives me a cautious smile as I walk over to my desk. ‘How’s Ben?’
‘He’s fine.’
‘Scott cool with you being here today?’
‘Yes.’
Felix nods and keeps typing. I feel sick. Something is not right with us: he won’t look at me. ‘Scott is going to stay with him today in the house.’
‘Good idea. He should be with you guys today. Feel safe.’
‘So you don’t think I should be here either?’
Finally, his eyes rest on me. ‘I didn’t say that, Gem. I’m sure he’s absolutely fine. I just wasn’t sure you would want to be here.’
‘Well, I do.’
‘That’s cool. I get it.’ He finishes scribbling something in his notebook and then stretches his legs. I can see the toe of his boot peek out from under his desk.
‘God, I’m tired.’ He rubs his eyes and the creases take a moment to settle. ‘Okay, so, we’ve got twenty minutes before check-in. I pushed it out because everyone was up so late last night. So if you like I can catch you up on what I found out yesterday.’
My teeth grind together. No, I don’t want to get caught up. I want to kiss the soft skin under his eyes, his eyelids. ‘Sure,’ I tell him.
‘Okay, so I’ve been tracking Rosalind’s voice messages and yesterday someone left a message about a rental enquiry that she made a couple of weeks ago. So I called them back—it was a Brisbane number. Anyway, she’d applied for a rental up there, starting the twenty-fifth of January. Offered them twenty dollars a week more than the asking price.’
‘She was planning to move to Brisbane?’
‘She was.’
I think about this for a minute. ‘What about a job?’
‘I thought about that too, so I dug around a bit and it seems that a Rosalind Ryan successfully applied to start teaching English and drama at Waterford High. In Brisbane. She used an old Hotmail account that I’ve got the guys looking into.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Exactly. It turns out she had made enquiries about putting her house on the market. That was the fancy car her neighbour saw in the driveway a few weeks back. A real estate agent from Gowran drove over to evaluate the house. Rosalind wasn’t planning to teach at Smithson next year.’
My heart begins to thump into gear. ‘Had she resigned? Does Nicholson know? Her family? I can’t believe that no one has mentioned it. Wouldn’t the school in Brisbane have done reference checks?’
‘I don’t know yet. I was about to call Nicholson last night when you called about Ben. Obviously we need to pay the Ryans a visit too.’
‘Well, we should go see Nicholson straight after check-in.’
Felix flashes me a grin and, just like that, everything is normal again.
‘Great minds, Gem. I just called the receptionist to tell her I’m coming.’
Chapter Forty-seven
Tuesday, 22 December, 11.37 am
It turns out that John Nicholson isn’t at the school. The harried receptionist looks at us blankly and then taps her hand to her head as if to tell herself off. ‘Oh dear! Yes, you rang, sorry. He was here when you called but I forgot that he was taking a half-day today. We break up tomorrow, you see, and there’re hardly any classes today anyway. I think he’s doing some work from home. It’s all been rather strange, really—you know, since … I did mention you might come, but he’s been quite vague lately.’
‘So he’s at home then?’
‘Well, yes. I think so.’
‘Thanks. We’ll have his address, please.’