Charlotte Pass Read online

  ‘Did he cordon off the area?’ Ryder asked.

  ‘She. Vanessa Bell.’ Henderson scanned a report sheet. ‘According to this, she roped off the area with hazard fencing, then radioed it in to the mountain manager. He called the village doctor, who phoned us.’

  ‘The ski patroller must have known they were human to do that.’ Ryder rubbed a hand across his jaw and looked at Lewicki, but his friend’s eyes were trained on the file.

  ‘There’s no skull, so she couldn’t be sure,’ Henderson said. ‘One bone looks like a femur and there’s some smaller ones that could be ribs.’

  ‘Who formally identified the bones as human, then—the village doctor?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Henderson closed the file and began tying it up with the coloured ribbon. ‘The uniform boys from Jindabyne are there now. They’ll stand by until you get there.’

  ‘Until I get there?’ Ryder needed a smoke, or to press the nicotine patch harder into the skin of his upper arm. In the end, he settled for raking a hand through his hair. ‘I’m here to hunt for Gavin Hutton. We think he’s crawled out from whatever hole he’s been hiding in and is collecting supplies for winter.’

  ‘How many people have gone missing from Charlotte Pass over the decades?’ Lewicki barked the question at Ryder.

  ‘Over the decades? I could probably count them on one hand.’

  ‘Five. And three of those bodies were recovered.’

  Ryder paused. He knew exactly where this conversation was going. ‘You really think it could be her?’

  ‘Yes, or that bushwalker who disappeared a few years back.’

  ‘But that’s her file, right there, on the desk.’

  There was a determined spark in Lewicki’s eye. Ryder pulled in a deep breath and huffed it out again. He knew that Lew wouldn’t let go of this, not while there was a chance the bones were those of Celia Delaney. This was the man who’d returned to Charlotte Pass after the winter melt in 1964 to tramp all over the mountains searching for her body, the man determined to give her parents closure and himself some peace of mind. Lew had never believed that Celia had lost her way in those mountains. He was haunted by a case that had cast a long shadow over his career. And his life.

  ‘Sixty-four’s a long time ago, Lew. If I were a betting man, my money would be on the missing bushwalker. There’s no evidence that Celia—’

  ‘You could be right,’ Lewicki snapped. ‘But I was the one who had to tell Celia’s parents time and again that there was no trace of their daughter. It destroyed their lives, and I had to watch that happen. You of all people should understand that.’

  Ryder’s chest contracted. Hardly able to breathe, he fought to absorb the blow his friend had just delivered. Was this how far, how personal, Lew would go if learning the truth about Celia Delaney was at stake?

  ‘Get yourself organised as soon as possible, Pierce,’ Henderson barked, oblivious to the tension between the two men in front of him. ‘I’ve spoken to Sydney. You and Flowers are to go up to Charlotte’s. Benson can lead the search for signs of Hutton. You’re the best man to take over Roman’s old case.’

  Ryder opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. He knew he was the logical choice. Apart from Lew, Ryder knew more about Celia Delaney’s disappearance than anyone. How many times had he heard the story—sitting on Lew’s back verandah in Castle Hill, drinking Galway Pipe long after Annie had gone to bed? Lost in his own agony, Ryder had absorbed every last investigative detail without even trying.

  He stood up and pressed his fingertips into his forehead. How could he refuse this case? He wasn’t sure who was issuing the order, Henderson or Sydney Homicide, but it may as well have been Lewicki, the man who’d hauled him up by the shirt collar, backed him against a wall and told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t special—that everyone had their own horror story to tell and to get the hell on with it.

  Ryder leaned forward and spread his fingers over Henderson’s perfectly polished desk. With luck they would leave smudge marks. ‘What about Hutton? He’s killed twice already, and he won’t hesitate to do it again if he’s cornered.’ As much as Ryder owed Lewicki, he was a Homicide detective and Hutton a wanted man—a serious threat to the community. ‘Even if Lew’s right, and Celia Delaney was the victim of foul play, that case is fifty-five years old. The perpetrator’s probably dead and no threat to anyone.’

  ‘That’s a big assumption, Ryder,’ said Lewicki.

  Ryder closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. ‘Hutton’s the biggest case of my career. What if something’s missed while I’m up at Charlotte Pass chasing a bunch of bones that could belong to a hiker who didn’t take a satellite phone?’

  ‘Then you’ll pick up where you left off,’ replied Henderson. ‘At least we’ll know it’s not her.’

  Lew stood up quickly. ‘Unless it is.’

  Two

  The Rambling Wombat’s Kids’ Club didn’t look at all like the other buildings at Charlotte Pass village. The octagonal windows were adorned with metres of butcher’s paper boasting the children’s latest crayon masterpieces. Inside the colourful space, twinkling fairy lights dangled from a high raked ceiling.

  Vanessa Bell smiled as she watched four-year-old Jake spoon mouthfuls of wobbly green jelly from his Frog-in-a-Pond dessert into his mouth. He was seated at the end of the table closest to where Libby Marken stood, a noticeable gap between him and the other children.

  ‘He has a life-threatening nut allergy,’ Libby whispered to Vanessa, turning away and taking an EpiPen from her pocket.

  Vanessa looked at the curly-haired little boy with a Harry Potter scarf looped around his neck. ‘Must be hard for the parents to relax,’ she said in a hushed voice. ‘I got lost on the farm once—it traumatised my mother for life. She’d still be checking up on me every day if she could, and I’m thirty-three.’

  Libby opened a cupboard and took a plastic box labelled ‘Medicines’ off the top shelf. ‘They’re confident he’ll be well looked after here,’ she said, putting Jake’s EpiPen inside before returning the box to its place.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure they know. You do a fantastic job running this place, Libby, everyone says so.’ Vanessa checked her watch for the umpteenth time. ‘How long do you think it will be before those detectives want to talk to me?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ Libby gave a shudder. ‘You poor thing. It’s enough to give anyone nightmares.’

  Like Vanessa needed any more of those after what she’d found in the snow.

  ‘You can put the presentation off until tomorrow if you like,’ Libby offered. ‘It’s been an awful shock for you.’

  ‘Thanks, but I need something to distract me.’ She reached for the silver snowflake around her neck and ran it up and down the chain. ‘I keep wondering who it was. And how did they die—was it quick, or slow and agonising? And what about their poor family?’

  ‘I know. Why don’t you give your sister a call when you’re done here? She’s close by, isn’t she?’

  Vanessa nodded. ‘Thredbo.’

  They turned back to the tables and began clearing away the used paper plates, soggy napkins and plastic glasses. ‘I really don’t want to burden Eva this late,’ Vanessa said a few minutes later as they dumped the scraps in the garbage bin. ‘She has her hands full with Poppy and running the lodge. How about we go to the bar when you finish here? The instructors are always up for a fishbowl cocktail.’

  Libby grinned. ‘That’s a hangover, not a distraction.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. The thought of going to sleep tonight is freaking me out.’

  ‘The kids will take your mind off it for a bit,’ said Libby, leading the way out of the kitchen. ‘Listen up, guys,’ she called out, clapping loudly as they walked back into the main room. ‘We have a very special guest this evening. Everybody, say hello to Vanessa.’ Libby waited until the chorus of hellos had died down before proceeding. ‘You might have seen Vanessa out on the mountain, or maybe the other ski patroll
er she works with. You’ll recognise them from the super-cool red jackets they wear.’

  ‘Like Santa!’ yelled one of the kids.

  As the group erupted in laughter, Libby moved aside so Vanessa could take centre stage. Because this was her first season working at Charlotte Pass it was her job to give the safety talk to the kids’ club while the other staff headed to the bar at the Charlotte Mountain Inn. Not that she minded. She enjoyed spending time with the kids, and Libby had become a good friend.

  ‘It is the same colour as Santa’s!’ Vanessa feigned surprise, as if it were the first time she’d heard that comment. ‘But mine has this symbol on the front and back.’ She spun around so the kids could see the white cross on her red zip-up fleece. ‘This cross is the medic symbol. It’s also on my ski parka. If you or someone you’re with gets sick or injured while you’re out on the slopes, or maybe you don’t know where to go, just look for me or my co-worker Johan in our red jackets. We’re always around.’

  ‘And if you can’t find a ski patroller, ask a ski instructor or, failing that, an adult,’ said Libby.

  ‘Are you a policewoman?’ asked a little girl with huge blue eyes and blonde pigtails.

  Vanessa smiled. ‘Not exactly. But I’m the next best thing.’

  ‘You’re the boss?’ the little girl persisted.

  ‘Out on the mountain I am. My job is to make sure the resort is safe for you to have fun in, and to help people who might be injured or in trouble.’

  ‘Or lost!’ a boy yelled from up the back.

  ‘That’s right. You won’t get lost if you stay inside the boundary fence.’ Vanessa looked around the group of children ranging in age from five to twelve. ‘As we all know, skiing and snowboarding are major fun, but there are safety rules we need to follow when we’re out on the mountain. Does anybody know of a rule from the Skier’s Code of Conduct? It’s on the back of every bathroom door and on the back of your lift passes. We have lollies if you get one right.’

  A young girl in a pink tracksuit put up her hand. ‘Give way to people below you.’

  ‘Correct.’ Vanessa smiled. ‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’

  ‘Audrey.’

  ‘As Audrey says, you must give way to people further down the slope than you. They don’t have eyes in the back of their heads.’ Vanessa curled her hands into fists as though she were holding her stocks and made an exaggerated skiing movement with her hips. ‘There you are, skiing away, minding your own business, then boom, someone below you on the slope turns right into your path. Carnage! Blood and guts everywhere.’ She paused, waiting for the excited giggles to die down. You could always count on the kids to laugh at the gruesome stuff. ‘That’s when I get a call on this,’ she said holding up her radio. ‘So, it’s very important to keep an eye on the people below you, and to give them plenty of space. Well done, Audrey. Anyone else know a ski rule?’ Vanessa looked around the group as Libby handed a lolly to Audrey. The sweets usually won the kids over. Pretty soon the boys would be making up all sorts of stuff.

  ‘Don’t jump off the poma lift halfway up!’ yelled a boy who looked to be about eight.

  ‘Woohoo! Good answer. You must never jump off the poma until you reach the unloading area. If a piece of loose clothing gets caught—’ she laid her hand lightly on Jake’s shoulder ‘—like this super-cool Harry Potter scarf, it will drag you up the hill. And you can imagine what might happen.’

  One of the boys put a hand to his throat and made a choking sound.

  ‘Exactly.’ Vanessa pointed at the boy. ‘If something horrible like that happens in the unloading area, the lift operator can hit the emergency switch and stop the lift. But if you jump off where no one can see you, you could be in all sorts of trouble.’ Vanessa leaned over and high-fived the young boy. ‘Give this handsome dude a Freddo, Libby, and—’

  ‘Excuse me.’

  Vanessa wheeled around at the sound of a deep voice. A man—tall, wearing a suit, which was definitely not the standard look at Charlotte Pass—was standing inside the door, flecks of snow speckling his dark hair. The wind had blown his tie over his shoulder, but he hadn’t noticed or didn’t seem to care.

  He slid his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, his dark eyes on her face. ‘I knocked. You couldn’t hear me over the din.’

  Heat warmed Vanessa’s face. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No need to apologise. Vanessa Bell?’

  She nodded. He was here, finally.

  ‘Detective Sergeant Pierce Ryder.’

  There was a collective intake of breath from the children. The detective glanced at them briefly but didn’t come any further into the room, nor did he whip out his badge like they did in the movies. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but would you be able to come down to the inn, please?’

  ‘Go—you’re needed.’ Libby shooed Vanessa away, her gaze never leaving the detective. His attention had shifted to two boys who’d lost interest in the conversation and were now wrestling on the floor.

  ‘Guys, listen up.’ Vanessa smiled at the kids. ‘I’ll come back and finish our talk another time, okay? In the meantime, study the rules for the chance to win more treats. And if you’re nice and quiet, I’m sure Libby will let you watch Frozen.’

  Chair legs scraped across the linoleum floor as the kids fell over each other in their haste to secure prime position in front of the flat screen.

  ‘See you, Jake,’ Vanessa leaned over and ruffled the little boy’s hair before walking over to the detective.

  ‘Is Jake your son?’ he asked when they were out in the corridor.

  ‘No.’ Vanessa took her ski parka from a hook on the wall. ‘He’s one of the kids in Libby’s care.’ She pushed an arm into one sleeve, then felt her face flame when the detective reached for the jacket and held it for her so she could slip her other arm into the sleeve. ‘He has a serious nut allergy,’ she went on as she shrugged the jacket onto her shoulders and turned up her collar. When she turned around, he was already waiting at the door.

  Not bothering with the zip, she pulled her parka across her chest and hurried towards him. It was a short walk to the Charlotte Mountain Inn. If he could do it in a business suit and overcoat, she could do it with her ski jacket open.

  ‘Does he have an EpiPen?’ he asked, holding the door open.

  ‘Of course.’

  Ryder nodded. ‘Shouldn’t be a problem, then.’

  Vanessa looked around the familiar suite while Detective Ryder hung his overcoat in a closet by the door. A tarpaulin was spread over the carpet beneath a wall half-painted with undercoat, and wooden planks and trestles were stacked neatly into a far corner.

  ‘Sorry for the paint smell,’ he said. ‘This was the best they could do at short notice.’

  ‘You’re lucky this was available. A section of roof blew off in a storm a while back. This suite was water damaged.’

  ‘So the owner said.’ The detective dragged his tie from his shoulder and made a cursory attempt at straightening it. ‘My partner’s downstairs in the staff quarters. Normally, we’d like somewhere more private, but the place is booked out for Winterfest.’

  ‘I like this suite.’ She pointed to the heavy drapes. ‘In the morning you’ll have an awesome view over the mountain, and there are only one or two suites here that have two bedrooms and a kitchenette like this one.’

  ‘You seem to know the place well?’

  ‘I helped them out with some cleaning at the start of the season. They were having trouble getting staff.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘They were hoping it would be fixed up and ready for guests in time for Winterfest, but I heard on the grapevine the plasterer held things up—’

  ‘Christ, it’s hot in here,’ Detective Ryder said suddenly, shrugging off his suit coat and tossing it over the back of a sofa. ‘Do you think it’s hot? That’s the thing I hate about the snow. It’s freezing outside and then you come inside and roast in the central heating.’

  So, the
detective wasn’t a fan of the snow—or small talk. Vanessa doubted he’d even registered her comment about the plasterer.

  ‘They turned the second bedroom into an office for me.’ He strode across the suite, beckoning for her to follow. A brown leather holster criss-crossed his back emphasising the width of his shoulders. ‘Come on in and take a seat.’

  He waved a hand towards a straight-backed chair that Vanessa recognised from the hotel dining room. ‘I’ve read the report you gave to the uniformed police, but I’d like to hear in your own words how you came to discover the bones.’ He rolled out a wonky-looking typist’s chair for himself.

  ‘Where would you like me to start?’ she asked, slipping off her jacket and draping it over the back of the chair. She sat down, her gaze drawn to the handgun hugging his left side. She hadn’t been this close to a firearm since she’d left the farm.

  He turned the swivel chair a little so that he was sitting at an angle to her, hiding the pistol from view. ‘Anywhere you like. I’ll interrupt or ask for clarification if I need to.’

  Vanessa took a deep breath. ‘Well, given the slow start to the season, we only have a thin cover, so it’s patchy in a lot of areas. That makes the groomer’s job difficult. He has to shift snow around. Mostly, he’s been putting it into the loading areas, so people can get up the mountain.’

  He leaned on an elbow, thumb under his jaw, one long index finger resting beneath a full lower lip. Vanessa stared at the deep vertical crease between the detective’s brows. He’d spent a lot of time concentrating. Or worried. Or in pain.

  She waited a couple of beats. When he didn’t comment, she went on. ‘So, the groomer asked Terry Harrison, the mountain manager, if ski patrol could build some snow fences up on Mount Stillwell. I’ve worked a lot of seasons in the northern hemisphere but it’s my rookie year here, so of course I got the job. Terry told a couple of the lift operators who weren’t rostered on to give me a hand. We went out early, before the first lifts.’

  ‘What are snow fences?’