Crackenback Page 4

  ‘So?’ Eva followed, the knuckles on her right hand beginning to throb. ‘What do I care if they come in all guns blazing and scare him off? As long as he’s nowhere near us.’

  ‘You need to care.’ He opened the door wide, then crouched down and shoved the metal wedge under the door. ‘Stand in the doorway where I can see you,’ he said, straightening with obvious pain and grabbing hold of the vanity unit for support. Bracing his hands on the granite top, he breathed heavily.

  ‘How is it that you know so much about this man, and yet you say the police know nothing? And why are you locking everything up here when he’s probably gone deeper into the national park?’

  Jack turned his head and looked at her, still leaning heavily on the vanity. ‘Because he knows this place. He’s stayed here before.’

  Shock stole Eva’s breath.

  ‘He was a participant on one of my courses.’ Jack straightened. ‘Years ago, before you took over the lease on this place.’

  ‘Okay, so even if he was here years ago, we know that he hides away from people now. Why would he risk being caught coming here, close to the village, when there are so many other remote properties in the mountains that are empty?’

  ‘Because he knows I’m onto him. And he knows where I’ll be.’

  ‘Here? In the Golden Wattle?’ Anger flared deep inside Eva again. ‘If what you’re saying is true, and I’m not sure how much I believe you, all you’ve done is put Poppy and me in danger.’

  ‘You and Poppy will be safest here, with me. Look, I know what he’s doing, and he didn’t entirely get the jump on me, I did some damage to him, too.’ Jack ripped open some plaster strips and started to apply them as makeshift stitches to the wound. ‘You may be right, though,’ he said between gritted teeth. ‘Gavin Hutton mightn’t be here just yet, but he will be, in time.’

  Four

  Jack picked up the soiled cotton balls and empty packaging and threw everything into the waste basket. The cut was painful, but it was a flesh wound and would begin to heal quickly. He’d kill for a hot shower, but he couldn’t take the time now. The child was in the lobby, upset, but it was impossible to hear what the problem was over the furry singing thing.

  Eva appeared in the doorway and looked right at him. The child was on her hip, her face streaked with tears, her chubby arms wrapped tightly around the toy. When she caught sight of Jack, she let it fall to the floor and buried her face against her mother’s neck.

  ‘She’s wants a drink,’ Eva said, her voice ringing with challenge. ‘Stop me if you have to.’ She walked off, leaving Jack alone in the bathroom.

  A wave of dizziness hit him, and he leaned against the bathroom wall. When his vision righted, he changed into the clean track pants Eva had brought him and slid his feet back into his boots. Exhausted by the exercise, he waited, taking deep even breaths until he was able to raise a foot and rest it on the toilet lid. Sweat poured from his forehead as he fumbled with his laces.

  Eva wasn’t going to let him walk all over her, and why would she? They’d only known each other for five days, and that was more than four years ago. Every six months he transferred money into her account and then waited for the inevitable email asking him to stop. The only contact they had was the photograph she emailed him twice a year, on Poppy’s birthday and at Christmas.

  When both boots were back on, he gladly rid himself of the filthy shirt. The area around the wound was swollen and angry, but already the artificial stitches had started to work, holding the skin together and helping the blood to congeal. As he’d done many times before when he’d been on active duty, Jack tore open a gauze packet and placed a soft square of it over the wound before securing it with strips of surgical tape.

  A second wave of dizziness flooded over him, and he leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of the basin. Staring in the mirror at a leaner, dirtier reflection of himself, he tried to remember when he’d last eaten.

  When his head cleared, Jack picked up the striped hoodie. He was fit, and his body would quickly make up the lost blood. But he needed a meal, painkillers and antibiotics to stave off infection—and, most of all, sleep.

  He was sliding his arms into the sleeves when he heard them coming back. Eva was trying to pacify the little girl. ‘I made dumplings for lunch. They’re your favourite.’

  After weeks in the back country existing on tinned food, chocolate and energy bars, the thought of dumplings had Jack salivating like Pavlov’s dog. But as vital as it was to build his strength, he couldn’t think of food right now. He needed to check the security of the lodge again in case he’d missed something in his haste. Steeling himself against the spreading ache in his abdomen, he leaned over and picked up the little girl’s teddy bear. A few specks of dirt clung to its fur, and he hurriedly brushed them off before they could leave a mark.

  Jack stepped out of the bathroom in time to see a juice popper fly across the lobby.

  ‘She’s not usually like this,’ Eva said defensively as juice began to seep onto the tiles. ‘It’s you.’

  He propped the bear on top of the reception desk. ‘I’m going to take another look around.’

  A handful of dying embers winked at him from the fireplace, a faint aroma of powdery ash wafting in the air. Pausing by the bannister, Jack looked down the shadowy staircase to where a faint wash of light was visible. The laundry light was clearly not on a timer. From memory, there were two more internal doors in addition to the laundry further along the hallway. One led into the garage, the other into some kind of storage room. The external door where he’d forced his way in was where they were most vulnerable.

  At the windows, he parted the drapes again and made sure the locks were in good condition. He would check the windows in the suites later when he’d regained a bit of strength, but those rooms were high off the ground and had no direct access to the verandah at the front due to the natural slope of the land.

  Back in the lobby, he was pleased to see that things had calmed down. Eva had wheeled the swivel chair out from behind the desk and Poppy was spinning it around giving her bear a ride. A light still shone from the bathroom where his putrid clothes lay in a heap on the floor. He caught Eva’s eye as he moved past her to the front doors. Like many dwellings built in cold climates, the lodge had a vestibule, the extra room between two sets of double doors the most effective way to stop heat from escaping and cold getting in when guests were coming and going.

  Satisfied that the sturdy outer doors were deadbolted, he was pushing his way through the glass-panelled inner doors when the sound of an approaching vehicle pulled him up fast. A truck in low gear was revving up the driveway.

  Eva hovered by Jack’s shoulder while he shifted the curtain aside and peered at the vehicle. ‘It’s a faded burgundy four-wheel drive with a trailer,’ he said.

  Eva pushed in front, forcing him to take a step backwards. This was her life, her lodge. Jack Walker had burst in here unannounced, with a story of Gavin Hutton and revenge. How could she be sure he wasn’t weak and dehydrated from lack of food and water? Dehydration caused delirium. Worse still, he could be in the middle of a psychosis.

  ‘It’s probably Randall,’ she said, putting her eye to the break in the curtain. ‘It is. He’s delivering the firewood.’

  ‘Why’s he stopping there?’ he asked, moving up behind her again and peering over the top of her head.

  ‘I keep the wood in the extra car space underneath so it stays dry. He always stops there and backs the trailer up.’

  Jack pulled her away from the window. ‘What’s the normal routine?’

  Normal routine? She wrenched her arm from his grasp. ‘For God’s sake, we’re not the army.’

  ‘Does he come in here first, or do you go out and meet him?’

  ‘Most of the time I’m so busy I don’t even realise he’s arrived until I hear him under the house, or when he comes into reception to get his money.’

  ‘You pay him cash?’

  ‘Yes. He’s a pensioner earning a few bucks on the side.’

  ‘Does he use the bottom door like the other bloke did?’

  Eva stared at his unreadable face. There was a faint bruise close to one temple, a vertical scratch on his neck. ‘You mean Bede?’

  He gave a careless shrug. ‘If that’s his name.’

  ‘Yes, that is his name.’

  ‘I need to know. That bottom door is where you’re most vulnerable.’

  She swung away, angry at his interrogation and eager to get back to Poppy. ‘Randall always comes in the front doors,’ she said over her shoulder, uneasy at how closely he was shadowing her. ‘I pay him in notes from the petty-cash tin. That’s the one you locked away in the drawer with my laptop.’

  In the lobby, she watched as Jack dug in his pocket for the key and unlocked the drawer. Poppy had gone from spinning the bear in circles to wheeling the chair around the lobby like a pram. How was it that their lives had changed so much in an instant? One minute, she’d been looking forward to the snow season and happily chatting to Bede about his son’s wedding, and the next …

  ‘Take the exact amount with you to the door, and carry Poppy on your hip. She’ll play up if you leave her with me.’

  ‘I wonder why,’ Eva muttered, reaching into the drawer for the tin.

  ‘How long is he likely to be down there?’

  She put the tin on the desk, the loose change rattling inside. ‘Depends on how much firewood I need.’

  ‘Act naturally, but get rid of him. If he’s inclined to chat, apologise and say you’re in the middle of something.’

  ‘You know what?’ she said, fumbling with the latch. ‘How about you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just open up that door and ask Randall to call the police?’
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  Annoyance flashed in his eyes. ‘Because the cops won’t move quick enough to catch Hutton. They’ll just scare him off. Good enough reason?’

  Eva shoved some notes into the back pocket of her jeans and lowered her voice to a whisper so Poppy couldn’t hear. ‘That’s preferable to being held hostage in my own home.’

  Jack closed his eyes for a second before opening them wide as though he were clearing his vision. Then he moved to the glass front doors and waited, listening for Randall’s approach.

  ‘If they don’t apprehend Hutton, he’s always going to be a threat. The safest place for you and Poppy right now is here with me.’

  ‘The safest thing is to call the police and then leave,’ argued Eva. ‘If Hutton’s coming here, I can’t think of a better reason to get in the car and get the hell out. You said yourself he wants revenge and he’s coming after you.’ Eva looked at her daughter, knowing she would give her own life to protect her. Poppy took a small sip from the juice box, the plastic straw turning orange. Then the little girl leaned forward and spoke in the bear’s ear before holding the straw to its mouth.

  Eva looked back in time to see that Jack had also been watching Poppy. ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘It’s true that Hutton wants revenge, but he’s not coming after me. He’s coming after you.’

  Five

  ‘Both Hutton’s parents were heavy users—booze and drugs,’ Ryder said, glancing at Sterling as he drove along the congested Woodville Road. ‘There was neglect and domestic abuse during his formative years. At seven, he was made a ward of the state. Every foster parent—and there were many—described him as difficult to handle. They all said he was a loner, distrustful of people, quick to anger.’

  Beside him, Sterling shook her head in resignation at the sad yet all too familiar story as Ryder took the turn-off onto the Hume Highway.

  ‘He left school halfway through year eleven and joined the army. He served in Afghanistan mostly.’

  ‘Was he violent towards Kimberley?’

  ‘She said he wasn’t, but admitted they argued a lot.’

  ‘What about his extended family?’

  ‘We haven’t found any yet.’

  A few moments of silence followed, and then Sterling spoke again. ‘You said in the meeting that Hutton emptied his bank account after flying into the country.’

  ‘That’s right. He only uses cash. There’s no paper or electronic trail to follow. That is what’s making locating him so challenging.’ Ryder checked his side mirror and changed lanes. ‘We’re waiting for the company he worked for in Zimbabwe to release his file.’ He glanced at the new recruit. ‘Ever tried dealing with Zimbabwe?’

  She smiled a little. ‘Haven’t had the pleasure yet.’

  There was a brief pause.

  ‘So, are you a Taree native?’ Ryder asked.

  ‘Wingham.’

  ‘Ah, I’ve been up to Wingham Brush a couple of times.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful part of the world.’

  The quiet conviction in her voice had him wondering how she was coping with life in the emerald city. Sydney wasn’t for everyone. Ryder checked his speed, his thoughts shifting to Benson. The detective’s jovial demeanour had been in short supply in recent weeks, and the thought that he might request a transfer back to Queanbeyan made Ryder nervous—Inspector Gray had made it perfectly clear they wouldn’t have the numbers to replace him.

  ‘I read in your application that you’re a keen water skier,’ he said to Sterling, shaking away thoughts of Benson. Ryder always found the information listed under ‘leisure activities’ the most interesting part of a resume. Every applicant was ‘hard working, motivated and enjoyed new challenges’, but you could tell a lot about a person by what they did in their spare time. ‘Did you grow up skiing on the Manning River?’

  ‘Yep. I had hopes of turning professional, but I wasn’t quick enough.’

  Ryder nodded, pleased to see Sterling remained alert throughout the conversation, eyes scanning the heavy traffic and nearby surroundings. ‘My girlfriend was a ski patroller for many years,’ he said.

  ‘Snow skiing is a completely different technique to water skiing.’

  ‘So she tells me.’

  ‘What does she do now?’

  Ryder glanced at the dashboard’s digital time display, a twinge of worry unfurling in his stomach. ‘She works as a rep for one of the big ski brands.’ Vanessa had a long drive ahead of her from Mount Beauty today. He would be glad to see her safely back in Sydney tonight. ‘Are you hoping to do some water skiing while you’re stationed down here?’

  ‘I am. I have a caravan and a boat on the banks of the Hawkesbury.’

  ‘The Hawkesbury? That’s a long commute.’

  Sterling laughed. ‘Oh, no, I’ve rented a unit in Parramatta, about five minutes from the station. I’ll only be up at the Hawkesbury on my days off. A friend of mine owns a property with a river frontage.’ She glanced at him uncertainly, as though wondering how much she should tell him. ‘He’s a driver, like me, in the bridge to bridge.’

  Ryder couldn’t hide his surprise. ‘You’re a speedboat driver?’

  She gave him a wry look. ‘Like many who didn’t make the grade.’

  ‘That’s interesting.’

  ‘It’s a lot of work, training with the skier behind the boat,’ she said.

  ‘And a lot of responsibility, too, for the skier’s safety.’

  Sterling turned away to gaze out the window again. ‘Yeah, there’s that as well,’ she said quietly.

  Five minutes later, he pulled the unmarked car into the high-school carpark. A white sign with an arrow pointed the way to the principal’s office.

  ‘Takes me back,’ said Sterling as they set off down the pathway. ‘I spent a bit of time in the principal’s office myself.’

  Ryder smiled, surprised at her openness. A bell rang, its long, high-pitched wail cutting through the air like a siren.

  The reception area hadn’t changed since his visit last year. The school crest was mounted above the desk, while framed awards lined the walls, testament to students’ academic achievements, prizewinning artworks and champion sports teams. Two girls sat quietly together. One looked ill, like she might be waiting for someone to come and collect her. Her friend was lending support. A boy sat nursing his right hand, his nose bloodied, his lower lip swollen as though he’d been in a fight.

  Ryder and Sterling remained standing.

  Before too long, the receptionist appeared with the principal in tow. Meredith Evans wore her suit jacket slung around her shoulders like a cape, her dark hair styled into a heavy bun. ‘Detectives,’ she said, glancing at them briefly.

  Before Ryder could answer, she spoke to her charges: ‘Ryan, I’ll deal with you shortly.’ Then to the girl who was clearly unwell: ‘Rebecca, your father is on his way to pick you up. If you could go and wait in the sick bay, please.’ And, finally, to Rebecca’s friend: ‘Maddison, run down to the history staffroom and fetch Mr Carmen. Tell him he’s needed urgently in the principal’s office.’

  Ryder figured Matthew Carmen had to be nearing retirement age. He watched as the history teacher with scruffy grey hair and beard settled himself into the principal’s chair. After apologising twice for the meeting room being unavailable, Meredith Evans finally left them alone.

  ‘Mr Carmen, thanks for calling the hotline,’ Ryder began before introducing himself and Sterling. He lifted up his mobile phone. ‘I’d like to record what you’ve got to say about Gavin Hutton, if that’s okay by you.’

  ‘That’s totally fine,’ the history teacher said. He shifted around, straightening his brown tweed jacket and looking out of place in the principal’s chair. Ryder brought up the recording app on his phone, understanding Carmen’s nervousness—the teacher was about to give the police information about a wanted killer.

  Ryder put his phone on the desk. ‘Just take your time and tell us what you know about Gavin Hutton.’

  The teacher licked his lips. ‘I remember him being a troubled youth when I taught him years ago. He had a quick temper in the playground, and on the footy field. I used to coach the school side in those days, and I had him for modern history as well. Every so often he wouldn’t show up. He’d just go AWOL for a week. I remember calling his foster parents and they said it wasn’t unusual. Apparently they’d notified the police the first few times but eventually gave up. I got the impression they thought getting on his back about it would only make things worse.’