‘No.’
‘All right,’ Sullivan said. ‘Just bloody ask. I’ve got to get back.’
‘Good. We visited you two days ago, Jamie,’ Raco began. ‘To talk to you about the day Luke, Karen and Billy Hadler died.’
‘Yes.’ There was a fine sheen of sweat on Sullivan’s upper lip.
‘And during our visit, you told us that after Luke Hadler left your property at about 4.30 pm, you stayed behind. You said –’ He checked his notes. ‘I stayed on the farm. I did some work. I had dinner with Gran.’
Sullivan said nothing.
‘Is there anything you want to say to us about that at this point?’
Sullivan swivelled his eyes between Falk and Raco. He shook his head.
‘OK,’ Raco said, and slid a piece of paper across the desk. ‘Do you know what this is?’
Sullivan’s tongue darted out and ran over his dry lips. Twice. ‘It’s a CFA report,’ he said.
‘Yep. You’ll see here on the date stamp it’s from the same day the Hadlers died. Every time the firefighters are called out, they log one of these. In this case, they were responding to an emergency alert. You can see that here.’ Raco pointed to typed lines on the paper. ‘And below, the address they were called to. Do you recognise the address?’
‘Of course.’ A long pause. ‘It’s my property.’
‘According to the summary –’ Raco picked up the report. ‘– the fire crew was called to your farm at 5.47 pm. They were alerted automatically when your gran activated her panic button. They arrived to find your gran alone in the house with the stove alight. It says here they put it out, calmed her down. Tried to call you, got no answer, but then you arrived back at the house. That was at 6.05 pm, according to this.’
‘I was in the paddocks.’
‘You weren’t. I called the guy who wrote the report. He remembers you approaching from the main road.’
They all stared at each other. Sullivan broke away first, looking down at the table as though an answer might appear. A lone fly circled over their heads with a tinny drone.
‘I was in the paddocks after Luke left at first, but then I went for a bit of a drive,’ Sullivan said.
‘Where?’
‘Nowhere really. Just around.’
‘Be specific,’ Falk said.
‘Out to the lookout. Nowhere near the Hadlers’ place, though. I wanted some space to think.’
Falk looked at him. Sullivan tried to meet his gaze.
‘That farm of yours,’ Falk said. ‘How big is it?’
Sullivan hesitated, sensing a trap.
‘Couple of hundred acres.’
‘Pretty big then.’
‘Big enough.’
‘So tell me why a man who spends twelve, fourteen hours a day on a couple of hundred acres of paddocks needs any more space to think?’
Sullivan looked away.
‘So you reckon you went for a drive. Alone. What’s your excuse for keeping that quiet?’ Raco said.
