we get the information together and circulating, the better chance we have of finding him, and
the safer my staff will be.’
She paused to take a breath, a little surprised at her own passion and anger. Coming on top of such a tense day, maybe the
near-miss had made her more on edge, more shaken than she’d realised. Yet he’d had to face more than she had – the brutal
death of a woman he’d known, his arrest and hours of questioning.
She slowed her breathing and continued more calmly, ‘Gil, I can’t do much about finding Marci’s killer. That investigation
is out of my hands. But I do want to find that driver, before he does someone real harm.’
Gil seemed about to say something, then changed his mind. He nodded, and said simply, ‘I’ll be back in a while,’ before he
turned and walked off down the road.
From the looks he’d been getting from Jim Barrett and others at the hall, Gil half-expected to hear shouts or footsteps racing
up behind him, but the only voice he heard was Beth’s, urging Kris inside and into the warmth.
He’d probably never spoken more than a few words to Beth in his life, but from the little he knew about her, Kris was in good
hands. Painfully shy and bookish as a kid, Beth had overcome her reserve enough as a young teenager to join the St John’s
volunteer ambulance in Birraga as a cadet. Hanging around the fringes of events in Birraga and Dungirri – football matches,
the Birraga show, the Christmas festival – he’d seenher, always neat in her black and white uniform, part of the community in a way he’d never be.
When Dungirri had first hit the news, almost two years ago, he’d felt little more than a flicker of connection, only what
he might have felt for any town facing such a tragedy. When it had made the news again last summer, with a second little girl
abducted, it had been harder to put from his mind. Not because of the fact that his old man had somehow been in the wrong
place at the wrong time – he still felt no sorrow about that – but because the child’s parents were Ryan and Beth. Ryan was
the closest thing to a mate he’d ever had in his youth, and Beth, with her shy nature and huge doe-eyes, the kind of girl
any half-way decent guy would want to protect.
The shadow of what had happened the previous time a kid was taken had hung over the long days of waiting, and Gil had found
himself tuning in to almost every radio news bulletin. When he’d heard that the child had been found alive and unharmed, he’d
done what he rarely did – poured himself a Scotch and drunk it, straight.
He’d never expected, all those months ago, that he’d ever set foot in Dungirri again. Until that lawyer had pulled a stool
up to the bar a few weeks back and he’d discovered how much he really owed Jeanie, the idea of returning had never crossed
his mind.
But now he was here, and what should have been a simple, fleeting visit to Jeanie had become as complicated as all hell. Maybe
that’s why his mind had strayed to things done and past rather than working on the present problems – Marci’s murder, his
arrest, the sergeant’s near-miss. He had no answers yet, for any of them.
His steps slowed as he approached the Truck Stop. The teenage girl.
Megan
. Another complication. He still couldn’t get his head around her existence, his brain constantly shying away from the ‘d’
word.
He paused on the driveway, his hesitation not so much because he didn’t want to see her, more that he didn’t want to be seen
with
her. Someone might notice the resemblance, and it had to be far better for her if she never knew who he was. He’d set up
a financial arrangement with Jeanie so that the kid wouldn’t ever need for money, but other than that he’d steer clear of
her. He’d made the decision on his walk this morning, and the day’s events had only confirmed the sense of it.
A couple of empty cattle trucks were parked out
the safer my staff will be.’
She paused to take a breath, a little surprised at her own passion and anger. Coming on top of such a tense day, maybe the
near-miss had made her more on edge, more shaken than she’d realised. Yet he’d had to face more than she had – the brutal
death of a woman he’d known, his arrest and hours of questioning.
She slowed her breathing and continued more calmly, ‘Gil, I can’t do much about finding Marci’s killer. That investigation
is out of my hands. But I do want to find that driver, before he does someone real harm.’
Gil seemed about to say something, then changed his mind. He nodded, and said simply, ‘I’ll be back in a while,’ before he
turned and walked off down the road.
From the looks he’d been getting from Jim Barrett and others at the hall, Gil half-expected to hear shouts or footsteps racing
up behind him, but the only voice he heard was Beth’s, urging Kris inside and into the warmth.
He’d probably never spoken more than a few words to Beth in his life, but from the little he knew about her, Kris was in good
hands. Painfully shy and bookish as a kid, Beth had overcome her reserve enough as a young teenager to join the St John’s
volunteer ambulance in Birraga as a cadet. Hanging around the fringes of events in Birraga and Dungirri – football matches,
the Birraga show, the Christmas festival – he’d seenher, always neat in her black and white uniform, part of the community in a way he’d never be.
When Dungirri had first hit the news, almost two years ago, he’d felt little more than a flicker of connection, only what
he might have felt for any town facing such a tragedy. When it had made the news again last summer, with a second little girl
abducted, it had been harder to put from his mind. Not because of the fact that his old man had somehow been in the wrong
place at the wrong time – he still felt no sorrow about that – but because the child’s parents were Ryan and Beth. Ryan was
the closest thing to a mate he’d ever had in his youth, and Beth, with her shy nature and huge doe-eyes, the kind of girl
any half-way decent guy would want to protect.
The shadow of what had happened the previous time a kid was taken had hung over the long days of waiting, and Gil had found
himself tuning in to almost every radio news bulletin. When he’d heard that the child had been found alive and unharmed, he’d
done what he rarely did – poured himself a Scotch and drunk it, straight.
He’d never expected, all those months ago, that he’d ever set foot in Dungirri again. Until that lawyer had pulled a stool
up to the bar a few weeks back and he’d discovered how much he really owed Jeanie, the idea of returning had never crossed
his mind.
But now he was here, and what should have been a simple, fleeting visit to Jeanie had become as complicated as all hell. Maybe
that’s why his mind had strayed to things done and past rather than working on the present problems – Marci’s murder, his
arrest, the sergeant’s near-miss. He had no answers yet, for any of them.
His steps slowed as he approached the Truck Stop. The teenage girl.
Megan
. Another complication. He still couldn’t get his head around her existence, his brain constantly shying away from the ‘d’
word.
He paused on the driveway, his hesitation not so much because he didn’t want to see her, more that he didn’t want to be seen
with
her. Someone might notice the resemblance, and it had to be far better for her if she never knew who he was. He’d set up
a financial arrangement with Jeanie so that the kid wouldn’t ever need for money, but other than that he’d steer clear of
her. He’d made the decision on his walk this morning, and the day’s events had only confirmed the sense of it.
A couple of empty cattle trucks were parked out
Similar Books
