Voices in the Dark, page 1
Fleur McDonald has lived and worked on farms for much of her life. After growing up in the small town of Orroroo in South Australia, she went jillarooing, eventually co-owning an 8000-acre property in regional Western Australia.
Fleur likes to write about strong women overcoming adversity, drawing inspiration from her own experiences in rural Australia. She has two children and an energetic kelpie.
Website: www.fleurmcdonald.com
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OTHER BOOKS
Red Dust
Blue Skies
Purple Roads
Silver Clouds
Crimson Dawn
Emerald Springs
Indigo Storm
Sapphire Falls
The Missing Pieces of Us
Suddenly One Summer
Where the River Runs
Starting From Now
The Shearer’s Wife
Deception Creek
Broad River Station
Voices in the Dark
DETECTIVE DAVE BURROWS SERIES
Fool’s Gold
Without a Doubt
Red Dirt Country
Something to Hide
Rising Dust
Into the Night
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 2023
Copyright © Fleur McDonald 2023
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
Cammeraygal Country
83 Alexander Street
Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100
Email: info@allenandunwin.com
Web: www.allenandunwin.com
Allen & Unwin acknowledges the Traditional Owners of the Country on which we live and work. We pay our respects to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Elders, past and present.
ISBN 978 1 76106 648 1
eISBN 978 1 76118 809 1
Typeset by Bookhouse, Sydney
Cover design by Nada Backovic
Cover images by Shelly A Richmond/Arcangel (woman); Ewen Bell (Flinders Ranges landscape)
To my Great-Aunty Dinkie, I hope you would have had a laugh at the mention of Dinkie Downs and the story behind the name. You knew it well! I miss our chats and visits, your wisdom and love.
And
To my true north.
CONTENTS
AUTHOR’S NOTE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Detective Dave Burrows appeared in my first novel, Red Dust. Since then Dave has appeared as a secondary character in sixteen contemporary novels, including Voices in the Dark, and six novels set in the early 2000s in which he stars in the lead role. These six novels are Fool’s Gold, Without a Doubt, Red Dirt Country, Something to Hide, Rising Dust and Into the Night.
In the earlier novels, Dave is at the beginning of his career. His first marriage to Melinda has ended due to issues balancing their careers and family life. No spoilers here because if you’ve read my contemporary rural novels you’ll know that Dave is currently very happily married to his second wife, Kim.
I had no idea Dave was going to become such a much-loved character and it’s reader enthusiasm that keeps me writing about him. Dave is one of my favourite characters and I hope he will become one of yours, too.
CHAPTER 1
‘You need to come now. Don’t wait.’
The words felt like they were bouncing off her skull.
You need to come now.
‘Yes, I know,’ Sassi muttered.
Don’t wait, the memory repeated. Don’t wait.
‘I heard you, I heard you.’ Her voice broke as she told the windscreen she was trying her best to get there.
Sassi pushed her foot down harder, clenching the steering wheel. Uncle Abe always said that driving at this time in the morning before the sun has started to rise, and the beautiful pinks and oranges spread out across the sky, is the most dangerous time to drive.
Kangaroos, wombats, even camels seemed to come out at this time of the day. And, inevitably, their feeding grounds would be across the road from their burrow or tree. The table drains beside the roads also held the sweetest grasses and water, especially when the flats were dry.
Her foot hovered above the brake pedal in anticipation of movement. It would only take one second—a small lapse in concentration—and there could be some serious damage to the ute. Not to mention to her and Jarrah, who was curled up in the passenger’s footwell.
The black hazes of midges hung near the trees that lined the road, and kamikaze bugs hurled themselves at her windscreen. Bush shadows stretched out across the black strip of road but, thankfully, so far, not one of those shadows had morphed into a kangaroo or another animal she might hit.
The temperature gauge on the dash told her it was already twenty-seven degrees outside, and Sassi pressed her fingers to the window to check. The glass was warm to touch yet the sun hadn’t risen above the horizon. She reached forward and turned the air-conditioner up a notch as Jarrah started to pant.
The dog’s eyes closed in bliss at the coolness.
I should stop, she thought. Give Jarrah a drink and stretch my legs. The heaviness of her eyelids were a bit of a giveaway that she was tired after six hours of driving.
The phone call had come several hours before as she had put the kettle on for her nightly cup of tea.
She’d been throwing a tea bag into her mug, leaning her hip against the bench. Jarrah was at her feet, tail thumping against the floor as she looked up, waiting for any crumbs that might fall. It took all of the six-month-old pup’s self-control not to move, while Sassi had her hand held in a stop sign. Jarrah’s little body was quivering in readiness at the first sign she could move.
When her ringtone, Kaylee Bell’s ‘Keith’, had ripped through the kitchen, causing her to jump, Sassi knew there was something amiss. No one called so late at night.
The photo that had been taken last Christmas of her and Abe flashed onto the screen and her first thought had been: Which one is it? Which grandparent?
‘It’s bad, Sassi,’ her uncle told her when she answered.
Her hands shaking, she’d slid down next to Jarrah and buried her fingers in the kelpie’s caramel fur.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Not sure. Dad managed to raise the alarm but …’ His voice had trailed off and Sassi realised her kettle was screaming a high-pitched whistle above her. Sticking a finger in her ear and ignoring the sound, she stayed where she was.
‘The ambo couldn’t say much, but he suggested we get everyone together as quickly as we can. I’ve rung your mother.’
Sassi snorted. ‘She won’t be much use.’
‘Sassi.’ As always, Abe’s calm and conciliatory tone didn’t change. Sassi was angry and he was the peacemaker. ‘She’s going to be on the first plane that she can get out of South Africa.’
‘She’d probably prefer the borders were still shut so she didn’t have to come back.’
Abe had ignored her comments. ‘You need to come now,’ he said. ‘Don’t wait.’
Kaylee Bell blared from the stereo in her ute now. The opening piano and lyrics for ‘Who I Am’ sent goosebumps shooting across her skin. Sassi was sure the writers of that song had peered into her past and found the words which suited her most. Kaylee sang about it being seven years since she’d left her home town. For Sassi, it had been longer.
She’d visited over those years, staying only long enough to get to know her cousins, hug her granny and sit quietly with her pa. Watch them communicate with each other through looks, nods and winks. Her grandfather was still mostly abled in his body, but not with his words. A stroke, some years before, had seen to that.
Still, Granny had always been able to understand him. What would Pa do without her?
When Sassi
Granny, smelling of lavender soap and shortbread biscuits, had sat down with her and held her hand. ‘A year off will help clear your mind, love. So you can make sure that ag science is what you want to do.’
Abe was going to marry Renee and, in time, they’d have kids and then there’d be no room for her on the family’s five-thousand-hectare property. She wasn’t the son or daughter of the family farmer, she was the granddaughter.
Pa hadn’t said a word. Only sat in the rocking chair and sipped his bourbon as he always did. Sometimes his eyes had darted her way, but more often than not, they’d stayed fixed on the TV or the Farming Journal.
The handwritten cashbook had been on his lap, and he’d licked the end of the pencil as he wrote figures and products into the columns. When he finished he’d looked over at her and squinted as if trying to work out who she was. Sassi was close to her grandmother, but her grandfather hadn’t allowed her, or anyone, to get close to him.
Granny had squeezed her hand again and got up, leaving Sassi to her thoughts.
That had been when both of her grandparents had still been fit and able to live on the farm.
Neither of them were any of those things now.
‘That might have been the best bit of advice she ever gave me, Jarrah,’ Sassi said softly, reaching over to touch the dog’s silky ears, which had flopped near the gear stick, while her chin rested on the console, causing her to have her nose in the air like Lady Muck.
Sassi returned her eyes to the windy stretch of bitumen and readjusted her grip on the steering wheel. Moments later, the sun rose from behind the ranges and rays of gold and red reflected off the clouds that had gathered above. Maybe there would be thunderstorms later in the day.
Only another fifty kilometres to go. That worked out to about the whole of the Kaylee Bell Essential playlist, so she reached forward and hit start again then focused back on the road.
You need to come now. Don’t wait.
‘Hang on until I get there, Granny,’ Sassi said softly. ‘Please.’
CHAPTER 2
The weather in Barker that morning reminded Mia Worth of her childhood. Hot, a strong northerly wind whipping up dust devils in the paddocks and on the dry footy oval.
Tightening her belt and making sure her handcuffs, taser, baton and everything else she had to lug around in the sleepy town of Barker were in the right place, she stepped out of her house only to be engulfed by a furnace. She could feel the grit on her teeth when she closed her mouth.
‘Crap,’ she muttered, sweat already breaking out on her forehead.
The northerly was forcing trees to bend over, nearly touching the ground, while leaves tumbled along the street and branches scraped the path.
Mia hoped all the volunteer fire-fighters were in town, really close to the shed that housed the truck. The day was shaping up to be the kind that would make controlling a blaze incredibly difficult. A catastrophic fire rating for sure.
Even though it was only a five-minute walk to the police station, she thought about going back and getting her car. Running from the air-conditioning of the vehicle to the air-conditioned office and then, if they had to do anything on the road, to another cool vehicle, held some appeal.
‘Don’t be weak,’ she told herself. Those were the words her nan would have used. ‘Take the easy way out and you’ll be feeble before your time.’
‘True enough, Nan,’ Mia murmured, and ducked back inside for her water bottle, before legging it towards the police station on the main street of Barker.
Her heart ached at the echoes of her nan’s voice. Only a month ago, they’d gathered alongside the grave in Barker to lower her coffin into the chocolate-red earth that Clara had loved so much. A fall, a broken hip and then pneumonia had taken a toll on her elderly body.
Mia had learnt that the sting of tears could turn up at any moment and memories of Nan hit her when she least expected them. She missed her grandmother like she’d never missed anyone before. Clara had raised her and loved her fiercely, and now there was just an empty hole in Mia’s life.
The word ‘orphan’ reverberated around her head. No mother or father and now no grandmother. Clara had been Mia’s reason to stay in Barker and now she was gone.
Still, Barker was her home town and the streets held memories of Nan, especially the shop on the main street that her family owned. It was no longer a cluttered haberdashery store but a busy cafe, one that supplied her with free coffee every time she visited.
Mia refocused her thoughts and waved at a young boy who lived a few houses down from her. He was always in the driveway of his house on his skateboard, no matter the temperature or time of day.
‘Aren’t you hot, Charlie?’ she called out to him as he stood the skateboard on its back wheels and pirouetted. The wind almost whipped her words away, but he answered with a grin.
‘Nah. Don’t notice it,’ he called back.
A true local. Or kid. Nan always said that she noticed the heat more and more as she got older.
Maybe twenty-five is the new old, Mia thought. A little rivulet of sweat ran down the side of her face and she swiped at it before giving Charlie another wave.
At the next house an unsurprising yapping noise reached her above the wind. Mia ignored the little Jack Russell who ran along the wire mesh fence, barking at her ankles. He sounded as if he’d tear an intruder limb from limb if they ever dared come inside his yard, but Mia knew it was a front. Whenever she’d reached over to pat him, the little dog had stood on his hind legs, tongue lolling, and accepted every caress and kind word she’d offered.
Yet, six months in, she still hadn’t convinced him she wasn’t a threat every time she pounded the pavement at the front of his home.
Rounding the corner onto the main street, she noticed the normal scattering of cars parked in front of the shops as the early birds came to collect their milk or mail before the heat increased in the middle of the day.
To her surprise, Dave was pulling up in the patrol car nearly an hour earlier than usual.
‘Hey,’ she called out, when he slammed the door behind him, pocketing the keys. Mia broke into a slow jog to catch him before he went inside. ‘You’re here early.’
‘Morning,’ Dave said, giving her a smile. ‘How was your night?’
Mia shrugged. ‘Pretty quiet. Night tennis is starting up again next week, but until then, it’s me, dinner and a book. God, this wind is awful, isn’t it?’ Mia waited while he unlocked the front door of the station, and let her in. ‘Have you been on a call-out?’
‘Yeah. Quilby needed a hand. We’re so damn short of volunteer ambos around here, and he couldn’t lift Mrs Stapleton by himself, so he rang me.
‘She was found by her husband, at about nine pm. We tried to stabilise her but, unfortunately, Mrs Stapleton died before we could transfer her to the hospital.’
‘I don’t think I know the family.’
‘You probably haven’t come across them yet. Elderly couple in Barker, living on their own. The husband has trouble communicating and can be a bit wonky on his feet, but they’ve been able to continue to live alone since they moved in from the farm.’ He shut the door behind Mia, before getting a hankie out of his pocket and dabbing his brow. ‘They’ve got a son, Abe. He’s married to Renee with twin boys and took over the family farm a while back.’
‘It’s nice their family is close by to support the husband left behind,’ Mia said, keeping her voice steady. To try to dull the ache in her chest, she reached for the air-conditioner remote and switched it on.
‘There’s a daughter I’ve never met. Quilby told me he wasn’t sure Mrs Stapleton would last the night and, because the doc had to get over from Broad River, and every moment counts in cases like this we suggested that Abe ring all the family. Apparently, she’s trying to get on the first flight out of South Africa. The granddaughter, Sassi, is on her way here now. Abe told me Sassi used to live with Mr and Mrs Stapleton until she left school. Funny, though,’ he crinkled his brow, ‘I don’t remember her, and I would have been living here by then. Only just, mind you. Obviously, she never got into any trouble.’
‘Well, that’s got to be a good thing. The no trouble, I mean.’ Mia turned on the computer, hearing the whirring above the noise of the branches scraping across the roof of the station.
