Poison Bay Page 16

  “Yes, and try to support the others when we tell them what we know. Adrenalin from shock is dangerous for Rachel, especially when she’s so low on insulin.”

  He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Well, we can’t put it off any longer.”

  ***

  Jack glanced up and saw the two women’s faces as he approached: Rachel teary and frightened, Erica… “watchful” seemed the best description. As they’d climbed, he’d been shooting up silent little arrow prayers in time with his footsteps: God help me, God help me. And he’d decided to fall back on what came naturally and take the direct approach.

  Rachel was the one at immediate risk, so he started speaking straight to her as they drew level. “Rachel, don’t you have breathing or something you do to try to avoid an adrenalin rush?” She nodded. “Can you do it now? I know it’s hard to be calm with all this going on, but it’s worth a try.”

  Her expression changed, became more determined. “I’ll give it a go.”

  They moved into the denser forest, where a fairly solid tree canopy meant everyone could take their hoods down, making conversation easier.

  Jack looked at Callie to see if she wanted to speak first, but she nodded encouragingly at him.

  He spoke as gently as he could. “You’ve probably gathered from watching us down there, and the fact that we didn’t rush back, that we found Adam, and yes, unfortunately he has died.”

  Rachel sighed and nodded. Erica stared at her hands lying in her lap, her fingers interlinked, rhythmically squeezing them together. He made a mental note to watch the reactions of both women. Rachel wasn’t the only one who could suffer ill-effects from shock. He’d already made that mistake with Sharon.

  “We’ll need to work together to move him from there to somewhere he can be found later. But first of all we need to talk about what killed him.” His mind raced as he struggled to find a way to put it that wasn’t horrifying. “Adam didn’t die in the landslide, and you need to brace yourselves to hear this, but he was actually shot.”

  Erica’s glance flicked up to his eyes and back to her hands, but her face blanched. Rachel exclaimed, “What!” and put her hands to her mouth, staring from Jack to Callie and back again. “Who could have shot him?” It was almost a whisper, hard to hear over the slapping of the rain on the leaves above.

  “You okay, Erica?” asked Jack. Her glance skittered across his face and went back to her twitching hands, but she nodded.

  Rachel spoke up. “So what do we think happened? A hunting accident? They hunt deer out here, don’t they? Only they call them something else… woppities or something. I remember Bryan saying that.” She seemed satisfied with her solution. “But that must mean there are other people out here, and maybe we can find them!”

  Jack shot a glance at Callie; she looked back and nodded. He took it as indication he still had the ball. Darn. “No, we don’t think it was an accident, Rachel, unfortunately.”

  Erica’s glance flew up to his face again, and this time it held, and her fingers stilled. “But how can you say that?” she challenged. “Surely a hunting accident is the most likely explanation. If they were shooting from a distance in these conditions, they probably wouldn’t even know they’d hit him.”

  “I did a pathology course a few years ago for my work,” said Callie. “The kind of wound he had is the kind you get from being shot up close. From a small gun, not a rifle.”

  Erica’s face was red now. “I don’t know how you can be so sure.” Her tone was aggressive. “You’re not a scientist.”

  “I’m not absolutely certain, no. But I remember what I learned, and I know what I saw. Trust me, it wasn’t what I was expecting or hoping to see. It took me a while to accept it.”

  Jack joined in. “Plus, it’s not hunting season. Bryan said so. I guess there might be illegal hunters out here. But it’s hard to imagine anyone hunting in the appalling visibility we had this morning. And it makes sense to me that a high-powered rifle… well, let’s just say I think it would have done more visible damage, that’s all.”

  “You don’t really know anything do you? It’s just your opinion,” Erica retorted. She seemed angry.

  He sighed, and leaned on his knees. “There’s more, actually. We haven’t told you everything yet.” He looked at Callie, and indicated with one hand, encouraging her to tell her story.

  She took the conversational baton. “This one is about Sharon. Rachel, do you remember how she had those bruises on her face, when we were doing her hair?”

  Rachel nodded slowly. Callie went on. “I think they were coming out gradually, over time, because I didn’t notice them in the tent when we woke up. Or maybe the light in the tent was a funny color and that made them harder to see. We could look at it on the video, but that’s probably more stressful than necessary. But there was a bruise either side of her nose, another one under her chin, and her eye sockets were kind of red.”

  “Yes, I do remember it. It looked odd, but I thought it must be something to do with the cold.”

  “So did I, at the time. But it kept bothering me, because I knew it reminded me of something, but I couldn’t think what. And then later that day it hit me.”

  Rachel stared at her.

  “Remember back when I did that pathology course, I told you how they showed us a body? That young girl?”

  “Yes, I remember it. You couldn’t sleep afterwards.”

  “Yes, that’s the one.” She turned to include Erica in the explanation. “This poor little girl had been murdered, suffocated by someone who held her nose and mouth closed.” Callie focused on Rachel again. “Well, she had the exact same marks on her face as Sharon, the bruises in the same place.”

  “Are you saying…?” interjected Erica, but she couldn’t complete the sentence. “Do you think…?” Her anger had gone; she was pale again, and flustered. “But it can’t be.” Erica shook her head, and tucked her fidgety hands under her armpits, hunching onto her rock.

  Callie continued. “Just think about the shape of those bruises, Rachel.” She stood from her log, and maneuvered herself next to Jack in the mud. “Imagine someone reaching in from the tent opening above her head, like so.” She placed her hands on Jack’s face, thumb and fingers of the right hand either side of his nose, left hand hooked under his chin. She looked at Rachel. “Would it match?”

  Jack didn’t see Rachel’s reaction, because around the obstruction of Callie’s hand, he was watching Erica now. She was trembling, and tears were making a trail down her face. He couldn’t tell if the reaction was shock, or fear. Or something else. Guilt?

  Rachel spoke, and he looked at her again. Her eyes were narrowed, thoughtful. “Yes, it would match. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.”

  Callie unhanded Jack and moved back to her log. “Well, why would you think of it being that? I’d seen the exact same thing once before, and even I took hours to think of it.”

  “Are you okay, Erica?” asked Jack.

  Callie and Rachel both turned quickly to look at her; they’d been engrossed in their own discussion. “No, not really. I can’t believe I didn’t realize. I was the ‘medical professional’, you know? Everyone was relying on me to help Sharon. And I couldn’t believe she’d died after she was getting so much better. I should have twigged that something wasn’t right. I remember thinking the bruises were odd, when we were doing the funeral thing, and I was looking at her face from a bit of a distance. I didn’t know what they were. But I could see it when you put your hands on Jack’s face like that. That’s exactly the right shape.” She put her head in her hands and started to weep aloud.

  “Oh Erica.” Rachel got up and moved nearer to Erica. “Shove over.” Erica glanced up from behind her hands, and slid to one side of her rock. Rachel perched beside her, and put her arms around the smaller woman. “Don’t worry, sweetie, it wasn’t your fault. We all thought nature was enough to contend with. We didn’t know there was some ‘bad guy’ out here with us a
s well.” She looked from Jack to Callie. “Because that is what we’re saying, isn’t it? That there’s someone out here following us around?”

  Jack shot an inquiring glance at Callie, and she took on the explanation. “Well, we wondered if it could be someone Bryan hired, or even Bryan himself if he was organized with an aqualung or something back at Poison Bay.” She shrugged. “An odd idea, I realize.”

  Rachel was silent and thoughtful, and Erica’s sobs gradually subsided. “I suppose it’s possible,” Rachel said. “Poor Bryan. He’d got so messed up. We should have been there for him, years ago, and maybe none of this would ever have happened.” She sighed.

  Jack said, “There is one other possibility. We hope it’s not right, but we have to consider it.”

  “What’s that?” Rachel said.

  If it had been hard to say before, when it was only a discussion between him and Callie, it was even harder now that all but one of the remaining pool of suspects was gathered. He looked at Callie, but she dropped her eyes and chewed on her bottom lip. Clearly he’d be getting no help from that quarter. Jack sighed. There was no escape.

  “We have to keep in mind that it could actually be one of us.”

  Erica dropped her hands from her face and stared at him, her tears apparently forgotten. “Are you saying that after we all worked so hard to get Sharon warm and keep her alive, one of us waited till everyone was asleep, and then killed her? That’s crazy! Why would anyone do that to Sharon?” She shook her head in disbelief.

  Rachel’s eyes clouded, and her gaze dropped. “Actually, Erica, I can see a reason. Sharon was slowing us down, the way she was. Someone could have wanted to get her out of the way. To increase our chances of surviving.”

  Erica started to speak, and then stopped. She’d apparently thought of someone who might conceivably think that way. Someone she knew pretty well.

  Rachel spoke again. “But it doesn’t really make sense why anyone would get rid of Adam.” She looked at Jack and then at Callie, puzzled. “Did you think about that?”

  Callie was still busy chewing her bottom lip, so Jack replied. “Yes, we did. The two murders don’t match. So it’s possible…” he looked at Callie again for support, but she wasn’t looking at him. “It’s actually possible they were killed by different people.” Rachel inhaled sharply. Jack continued, “It’s also possible that Adam’s death was some kind of mistake, or he found out something about the killer.” He shrugged. “There’s lots of possibilities. But basically, we need to keep our minds and our eyes open, and be on our guard. That’s all.” He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, stretched his legs out straight in front of him, and stared at his mud-caked boots.

  “Well, I personally think it’s lunacy,” Erica declared, her voice much stronger now. “To think there could be two crazy killers tromping around the mountains after us is just outrageous. It must be one of Bryan’s mates. What do any of us know about guns, anyway?” She looked at Callie. “Unless you’ve had some training in how to use them. For your work, like.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and Rachel withdrew her arm and moved back to her own rock.

  “Come on Erica,” Jack said. “We’re all on the same team here.”

  “No we’re not,” she spat. “You’ve just as good as accused me and Rachel and Kain of being murderers, because you obviously don’t think it’s your precious Callie that did it, or you wouldn’t have been having such important, grown-up conversations with her behind everybody’s back.”

  “Don’t be childish, Erica, we didn’t accuse anyone.” Jack stood and moved back a few steps, withdrawing slightly from the circle. He was struggling to keep his anger in check.

  “It wasn’t like that, Erica, really it wasn’t.” Callie’s tone was conciliatory. “I know it must look pretty weird that we didn’t say anything before now, but we’ve been agonizing over whether or not to tell everyone.”

  “Huh!”

  “Honestly, you guys!” Rachel exclaimed. “I coped with the news about Adam and Sharon much better than this horrible argument.”

  “Oh, poor little delicate flower!” exploded Erica. “It’s all about Rachel. Whatever else we do, we mustn’t upset you! No one else is suffering here, we’re all having a lovely holiday.” She stood and stomped off into the rain, whipping her hood up over her head with a sharp snap.

  Rachel burst into tears. Callie went to her, hugging her. Jack stood awkwardly, wanting to escape and yet wanting to help. But what could he do?

  He caught Callie’s eye. “I guess I messed that one right up,” he said.

  Callie spoke firmly. “You did an amazing job. That was never going to be an easy conversation, so what did you expect?” She raised her eyebrows, her mouth wry. “She’ll come back when she gets scared. Or cold. She’s left her pack here.”

  “Oh.” He glanced at Erica’s rucksack, propped next to Callie’s, and then looked up the mountain for a bit, and then down at an angular rock. He started kicking it absentmindedly with the side of his boot. Rachel was still weeping into Callie’s shoulder. “Um, it’s just that we’ve got to sort out…” Jack began. He waved vaguely down the hill, not wanting to say “Adam’s body” in Rachel’s hearing when she was already upset.

  “Yeah, I know. We’ll get onto that. Just give me a minute. Go and pick some ferns or something, why don’t you?”

  He left, gratefully.

  34

  “Interpol called,” said Amber, as Peter walked back into the police station. Even his watch house assistant had volunteered for overtime this week. He wished he’d been there to take the call, but the fact was, the conversation with Ellen had been very valuable.

  “Any news?”

  “Brisbane managed to salvage a couple of suspicious-looking emails that had been deleted from Kain Vindico’s computer. I’ve printed them out and put them on your desk. They don’t say that much, but they seem to be referring to promises made in phone calls. Nothing strange on Erica Bonkowski’s computer. They’ve also sent through the coroner’s report on that girl who committed suicide. I forwarded it on to the pathologist. Was that the right thing to do?”

  She looked uncertain, but Peter nodded in approval. He liked his team members to take initiative. She moved on to her last piece of news. “The records show that someone asked to see that report back in February this year. You’ll never guess who.”

  Peter raised one eyebrow a millimeter and waited.

  “Bryan Smithton, that’s who.”

  35

  The steep slopes were alive with waterfalls, even though the rain was taking a breather. Jack picked his way carefully around the landslip that held Adam in its grasp, looking for a path the group could use later. They needed to get upstream of the pile of debris before nightfall, and find a stable place to sleep in relative safety.

  He paused at the peak of the mound, and looked up the river. The cloud had lifted, and he could see to the full thunderous height of the cirque at the head of the valley, with a lopsided pasting of snow—or was it a glacier?—at its center. The rim of the mountains was in front and to both sides, far above. He swung round to look downstream, taking in the majesty of more steep and lofty slopes marching away into the distance, following the twists and turns of the leaping river, their colors softening the further away they got.

  In spite of the pains in his body, the ache in his heart, and the fear that never really subsided even when he was asleep, Jack felt his spirits lift. It was, quite simply, a glorious view. He pulled his shoulders back, filled his lungs with air, and reveled in the uncomplicated joy of being alive and the freedom of a hoodless head after so many hours of claustrophobic rain. Thank you God.

  Returning to his task with renewed motivation, he continued upstream, looking for a route that was sufficiently elevated in case the river rose any further. He could see what might be a usable camping platform further up, but he needed to make sure they could get there without too difficult a climb.

  He clambered across a
small field of boulders, and then sidled along a rocky ledge for a few meters. It was manageable—the drop wasn’t enormous. As he prepared to round the end of the ledge he glanced at the ground for his next foot placement, and saw something that made the blood drain from his face and his innards contract. A footprint, from a large boot. It could be no more than a couple of hours old—the heavy rain earlier would have washed it away.

  Fighting down fear, he peered carefully round the corner of the rock face, dreading the gunshot that might be the last thing he ever heard. That’s if he could even hear it over the hammering of his heart in his ears. He could see nothing suspicious, but he didn’t have a full view of the rocky platform. He pressed himself in against the rock, and scanned the other side of the valley, and back the way he’d come, searching for anything that didn’t seem right. All he saw were rocks and trees and mountain scrub, looking back at him with blank faces. He craned his neck and tried to check above him, but it was pointless—all he could see was more of the rock face curving away upwards—and his head spun with dizziness at that strange angle, threatening to make him fall.

  He pulled back in against the rock, and waited for his equilibrium to settle. Peering around the corner again, he dropped to the ground, and edged forward on all fours in the mud, constantly scanning for anything that moved. He peered round a boulder and saw it. A tent. Kain’s tent, if he wasn’t mistaken. Relief flooded his body, and then sucked back out again like a receding wave as he recalled what had happened to Adam. What if Kain was the shooter? Or he might even have met the same fate.

  He stayed behind his boulder and called out. “Kain! Are you in there?”

  There was movement at the mouth of the tent, and Kain’s face and shoulders appeared. He didn’t answer, but stared at Jack silently, his eyes dark and unreadable.

  Jack said, “Are you okay?” He stood tentatively and walked towards the tent, trying to see if Kain had anything in his hands while also scanning the mountainside for signs of movement—a nearly-impossible combination of tasks.