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  In 2009, former corporate trainer Lee Christine decided to turn her writing hobby into a serious day job. Her first crime novel, the bestselling Charlotte Pass, was published in 2020. She lives in Newcastle, New South Wales, with her husband and her Irish Wheaten Terrier. To read more about Lee Christine visit leechristine.com.au.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First published in 2021

  Copyright © Lee Christine 2021

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

  Allen & Unwin

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia

  Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Email: [email protected]

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  ISBN 978 1 76087 890 0

  eISBN 978 1 76106 105 9

  Set by Midland Typesetters, Australia

  Cover design: Nada Backovic

  Cover photos: Stocksy (woman); Shutterstock (landscape)

  For Douglas

  Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  The Philippines

  He sits up at the distant whine of an approaching vehicle. Few come along here, and he has memorised the distinctive sounds of the regular ones.

  Scrambling over the weakened bodies of the other men, he peers out into the darkness through a gap in the rusty corrugated-iron wall. The sky is lighter than when he’d last woken, roused from sleep by the gnawing pain in his side. He puts his ear against the corroded tin. There is no mistaking the occasional misfire of the engine, and the grating sound of the changing down of gears.

  He sits back on his haunches. He can just make out the shadowy shapes of the prisoners inside the shed, their emaciated bodies curled into the foetal position. Outside the shed door he hears the guard move. Tall and skinny, the guard is quieter than the ones approaching in the car, and marginally kinder.

  Reaching out, he gropes for Goose’s bony shoulder. ‘Wake up. They’re back.’

  Weeks have passed since their captors were last here, and he has no way of knowing if progress has been made.

  He rouses Shady first, then, holding his breath against the stench of Viggo’s infected foot, nudges the Swede in the back. He would have killed them both months ago, but Shady is the only one who speaks native, and their chances of release are better with the Swede alive.

  The vehicle turns into the driveway, the fleeting sweep of headlights sending cockroaches scuttling for the soggy corners. He moves aside so Shady can get close to the gap in the wall and listen.

  The engine cuts. Doors slam in quick succession. Shady presses his ear to the hole.

  Although the voices are muffled, he recognises the inflections, the dynamics and the pitch, tuning into their emotions like a dog trying to read signals from its owner. A nasally voice laced with frustration rises above the others. The squat man with the wide-set eyes.

  ‘He’s saying they’ve gone quiet,’ says Shady, translating. ‘There’s been no communication for a month. The guard’s telling them about Viggo’s foot now. He’s saying he needs medical treatment.’

  The squat man speaks again, his tone more belligerent. Shady interprets, his voice low and quiet. ‘Food, hush money, even this shit garage. It’s costing them, he says.’

  A quieter voice, more tempered. It’s the thick-set one with a taste for fake designer sportswear. ‘What’s he saying now?’ he demands, grabbing Shady’s arm.

  ‘That they should cut their losses and let us go.’

  Hope swells inside his chest, but then the squatty one speaks again, his voice drowning out the others. ‘He’s disagreeing,’ reports Shady. ‘He’s saying they need to send a message, a strong one.’

  Raised voices as the men continue to argue.

  Then suddenly, Shady abandons his post, stumbling and crawling in panic to cower in the corner furthest from the door.

  Coward.

  The strong beam of a Maglite shines through the holes in the corrugated iron where the nails have rusted away.

  ‘Goose. Get up the back,’ he hisses.

  Goose moves close to Shady. The Swede has woken, and whimpers at the familiar sound of the key being inserted into the padlock.

  Chains rattle and the door flies open.

  He looks up. A blinding beam of light arcs through the air then crashes into his temple. He slumps sideways, pain exploding throughout his skull a second before his vision turns black.

  A hoarse scream. Somewhere.

  A chorus of frantic begging.

  Acid surges into his throat.

  Crying sounds as one of the others is dragged away.

  He rolls onto his stomach, muscles straining as he attempts to lever himself off the ground.

  A shot rings out in the darkness.

  One

  Three years later

  Thredbo, Snowy Mountains

  ‘Mummy!?’

  Eva Bell straightened up from the bed she’d just made. ‘I’m in the Wisteria Suite, Poppy.’ She smoothed her hand over the lilac quilt cover, then plumped up the pillows. Poppy’s quick, light tread was accompanied by much clinking and jangling.

  ‘You have your own percussion thing happening there,’ Eva said, turning as her three-year-old daughter appeared in the doorway. Poppy’s forearms were decorated to the elbow with Eva’s silver bracelets and an assortment of coloured bangles. The multiple necklaces she wore reached to the knees of her Minnie Mouse leggings. ‘You’ve been raiding my jewellery box again.’

  Poppy climbed into an armchair covered in a floral wisteria print. Silvery rays of late-May sunshine streamed through the window behind her, bringing out the hint of auburn in her golden curls.

  ‘Where did the turtle come from?’ Poppy asked, holding out her wrist so Eva could inspect a heavily laden charm bracelet. ‘I can’t remember. Was it the Gollygus, or something like that?’

  ‘Close. I brought it home from the Gal-ap-a-gos before you were born.’ Eva rubbed her thumb over the small gold charm. ‘This little turtle is actually a really old tortoise. I can show you where the Galapagos are on the globe, if
you like.’

  ‘Okay.’ Poppy slid off the chair and slipped a small hand into her mother’s. ‘Gal-ap-a-gos,’ she sounded out the name as they walked to the door.

  ‘That’s it.’ As she left the room, Eva glanced back to admire her work. Five years ago, the rooms at the Golden Wattle Lodge had been plainly furnished and identifiable only by the number on each door. Choosing an individual theme for each suite had been the top priority in a long list of changes Eva had made, and it had immediately added character to the place. The lodge was now a popular choice in the Thredbo area regardless of the seasons.

  With another housekeeping task ticked off her list, she adjusted her stride to match Poppy’s shorter one as they made their way along the hallway. All three suites on the east side of the lodge were now ready for the first guests to arrive in late June. That only left the three on the west side, which hopefully she would get to this afternoon.

  At the end of the hallway, Eva shut the door behind her and stepped into the warmth of the spacious lounge room, thankful the guest rooms could be closed off from the general areas of the lodge. ‘It’s warmer now,’ said Poppy.

  ‘The heating isn’t on in the rooms,’ Eva said. ‘No use wasting money when there’s only you and me here. And I was working, so I was warm.’

  On her right was the staircase leading to an equipment room, laundry and garage on the lower level. Running her hand along the bannister, Eva bypassed the stairs, Poppy skipping along beside her.

  ‘Okay, let’s have a look at this globe.’ She crossed the lounge room, glancing briefly into the lobby with its curved reception desk and double glass doors leading to the vestibule beyond. The lobby was deserted now, the front doors locked, but in a few weeks’ time it would be buzzing with excited guests checking in for their winter holiday.

  Eva smiled as they went over to the small bookcase tucked in a corner of the room. The globe sat top centre, the lower shelves crammed with a variety of paperbacks and magazines. She was spinning the globe, looking for the islands off the coast of Ecuador, when the downstairs door flew open with a bang.

  ‘Helloooooo! Are you there, Eva?’

  Eva looked around. ‘Bede?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s me. Sorry, the wind caught the door.’

  ‘No worries. Come on up.’

  The downstairs door slammed closed, but not before a blast of frigid air swept up the steep stairs. Eva put the globe back in its place and smiled at Poppy. ‘I’ll show you where the Galapagos Islands are later, okay?’

  ‘You’re allowed to use the front entrance, Bede,’ Eva said as their nearest neighbour appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Didn’t want to tramp dirt through your fancy foyer.’ Puffing a little, he arrived at the top and dragged off his beanie. ‘Good to see you both.’

  ‘You too.’ Despite the puffing, Bede had barely aged in the five years Eva had known him; his short-cropped hair now had a little more salt mixed in with the pepper, but he still had the slightly squishy dad bod of a man comfortably into his fifties and not fond of exercise.

  She waited while he unzipped his parka and shrugged it from his shoulders, then asked, ‘How was your son’s Byron Bay wedding?’

  ‘Beautiful. Worth the rush I’m now in getting ready for the opening weekend.’

  ‘Lucky the season was delayed a few weeks.’

  ‘I reckon.’ His gaze shifted to take in the spacious lounge room. ‘Geez, you’ve made some great improvements to this place. Your landlord will be loving you.’

  ‘He’s been great. He’s in full support of anything that will improve the building.’

  Eva looked at the room again with fresh eyes. A wagon-wheel chandelier with candle-shaped lights hung from the exposed beams, while burning logs cast a soft glow from a fireplace built entirely of river stones. The fake bear skin she’d brought home from Canada was spread on the floor between the hearth and a wooden coffee table. Atop the coffee table was a Mayan chess set with intricately carved wooden pieces, which Eva had picked up in South America.

  Bede took a piece of red river gum from the wicker basket and added it to the fire. ‘You know, I thought you were making a mistake when you ripped the old fireplace out of the wall and built this big one in the middle of the room.’

  ‘Really? I didn’t know that,’ Eva said with a smile.

  ‘Yeah. No, it’s worked a treat.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t want an awful internal wall cutting the room in half and the wall wasn’t structural, so putting the fireplace in the centre was a good compromise. I was thinking of my feet, too. With the dining table on the other side, it’s closer to the kitchen.’

  ‘Bora Bay!’ Poppy yelled triumphantly. She was holding up her heavily braceleted wrist to show off a tiny seahorse charm.

  Bede leaned over and peered at the bracelet. ‘What have you got there, munchkin?’

  ‘Mummy said Bora Bay. She’s been there, and to lots of places.’

  Bede straightened up and winked at Eva. ‘The perks of working on a fancy yacht, cooking for rich people.’

  Eva averted her eyes, trying not to think of how quickly things had turned sour on that last voyage. Eva smiled and ruffled Poppy’s hair. ‘No, I said Byron Bay, sweetie. Bora Bora is different.’

  ‘How did you know that seahorse was from Bora Bora, Poppy?’ Bede asked.

  ‘Mummy told me. I ’membered.’ Poppy looked up at Eva and she nodded.

  ‘What a clever girl,’ Bede laughed.

  ‘Okay,’ Eva said with a smile. ‘How about you put all my jewellery back where it belongs?’ She slanted a look a Bede. ‘Do you have time for coffee, or is nine-thirty too early?’

  ‘I reckon you could twist my arm.’

  Eva watched Poppy run off towards their room before leading Bede out to the galley kitchen. ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do, Bede, if you’re pressed for time.’

  Bede had helped her out several times during her first snow season when she’d literally been learning on the job. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong back then, and it had been Bede who’d shown her how to replace a blown fuse, maintain the septic system and hook up the portable generator. Waiting around for her Canberra-based landlord to organise tradesmen would have sent her out of business. Mutual support from the mountain community was the way things functioned in this harsh environment where Antarctic winds downed trees and knocked out electricity. By the time the roads were ploughed, and the tradies turned up, the water in the pipes could have frozen.

  ‘Just let me know if you’re going into Jindabyne,’ Bede said. ‘That’d save me a trip. How’re your preparations going?’

  ‘I have half the guest suites made up. Once the rest are done, I can start planning the menus and ordering the food.’

  ‘You’re ahead of me,’ he said, leaning against the square wooden table where Eva and Poppy ate their meals away from the guests. ‘I doubt my chef’s capable of thinking even a day or two in advance. Geez, he’s a temperamental bugger, always flapping around in a rush at the last minute.’

  Eva busied herself brewing the coffee. She knew what Bede meant. She’d helped his chef out of a few tight spots. ‘I’m the furthest away from the village,’ she said, ‘so I can’t afford to be disorganised. I’m counting on guests’ return business to keep me afloat.’

  ‘Your cooking will do that,’ Bede said as they carried their coffees into the lounge room. ‘How was business over summer?’

  ‘Up on last year.’ Eva took a sip of her espresso. ‘It’s growing … steadily.’ She sank onto the leather sofa with a sigh. ‘Have you thought any more about opening up the Willy Wagtail year-round?’

  ‘No, I want to spend a couple of months with my boy in Mullumbimby, and I’m loathe to give up my fly-fishing time. Still, every year it’s getting harder to make my money in four short months. I’d only open year-round if you agreed to come and manage it for me. I need someone I can trust.’

  ‘I know.’ It wasn’t the
first time Bede had extended the offer, but Eva had decided long ago she would always be her own boss. Occasionally, the wanderlust would bite, though, and she’d find herself envying Bede’s greater freedom. But all it took was one sweeping gaze around the idyllic home she’d created for herself and Poppy and the wistfulness would disappear.

  For a while they sat companionably, quietly enjoying their coffee and the revived heat of the fire. Finally, Bede broke the silence. ‘How’re your bookings?’

  ‘I’m around seventy-five percent occupancy for the season. You?’

  ‘Getting close.’ Bede drained his cup then sighed in appreciation. ‘That’s a top blend. Which one is it?’

  ‘Oh no you don’t,’ Eva said with a laugh. ‘I’m not giving away all my trade secrets.’

  ‘You’re killing me.’ He handed her his cup with a good-natured smile. ‘Well, I’d better be off. I just wanted to call in and say g’day, see how you two were getting along.’

  ‘We mightn’t be able to see you through the trees, but it’s nice to know you’re there, Bede.’ Eva followed him to the coat-stand as Poppy emerged from their private room. ‘Say goodbye, Poppy.’

  ‘Bye, Bede,’ she said, before yawning suddenly. ‘Mummy, I’m tired.’

  ‘How about you have a nap? It’s only ten o’clock but you’ve been up since six,’ Eva said, rolling her eyes at Bede.

  ‘See you, munchkin. And try and give your mum a sleep-in sometime.’ Bede pulled on his jacket. ‘Don’t come downstairs, Eva. I can see myself out.’

  ‘I have to come down anyway, I have clothes in the dryer.’ She made sure Poppy was heading to their room before following Bede down the stairs.

  ‘Feels like the temperature’s dropped again,’ he said, turning left into the hallway and heading for the side exit door.

  ‘Get going then. Don’t forget to call me if you need anything in town.’

  ‘I will.’ Bede dragged on his beanie and gloves before turning up his collar and opening the door. A rush of frigid air made Eva’s eyes water. ‘Yep, there’s snow on the way,’ he said, raising a hand in farewell.