Dow looked down for a moment. When he raised his head his attitude had shifted. He smiled. A calculating, full-bodied grin that hit his eyes.
‘What, like your alibi, you mean? For why my cousin wrote your bloody name before she died?’
The silence stretched taut as three pairs of eyes looked at the photocopied receipt on the table. Falk had been far more shaken when his own name was discovered among Ellie’s possessions than Dow seemed about this. He was wondering what to make of that when Dow barked a laugh.
‘Good thing my yarn is built of solid brick, isn’t it? You test it, mate, be my guest. Don’t get me wrong, I had no time for the Hadlers. And yeah, I’ll be selling my uncle’s property the first chance I get. But I didn’t kill them, I wasn’t at that farm, and if you want to put me there, you’re going to have to stitch me up. And you know what?’ He banged the table with his fist. The sound was like a shot. ‘I’m not sure you’ve got the balls.’
‘If you were there, Grant, we’ll prove it.’
He smirked.
‘See you bloody try.’
Chapter Twenty-four
‘You’re lucky we still have the footage, it usually gets deleted after a month.’
Scott Whitlam scrolled through the files on his computer until he found what he was looking for. The principal leaned back so Falk and Raco could see the screen. They were in his office, the sounds of the Monday afternoon school bustle drifting through the door.
‘OK, here we are. This is the view from the camera at the main entrance,’ Whitlam said. He clicked the mouse and CCTV footage started to play on screen. The camera appeared to be mounted above the large school doors, trained down on the steps to capture any approaching visitor. ‘Sorry, it’s not great quality.’
‘No worries. It’s better than what we got from the Hadlers’ place,’ Raco said.
‘Cameras are only as much use as what they capture anyway,’ Falk said. ‘What else have you got here?’
Whitlam clicked again and the view changed. ‘The other camera’s over the staff carpark.’ Again taken from a high vantage point, this footage showed a fuzzy row of cars.
‘Those are the only two cameras in the school?’ Raco asked.
‘Yeah, I’m afraid so.’ Whitlam rubbed his thumb and index finger together in the universal symbol for money. ‘We’d have more if we could afford more.’
‘Can we find Karen on her last day?’ Falk said, although it wasn’t primarily Karen they were looking for. It was Grant Dow. True to their word, Falk and Raco had spent several hours grilling Dow’s mates over his alibi. They had backed him up to the hilt. It was nothing less than Falk expected, but it still pissed him off.
Whitlam enlarged the carpark image so it filled the screen. ‘Karen usually drove in, so she’d probably be on this camera.’
He found the right recording and jumped through the timeline to the end of the school day. They watched the silent footage as pupils walked by in twos and threes, giggling and gossiping, set free for another day. A slim bald man walked into the frame. He went to one of the cars and opened the boot. He rummaged for a moment before retrieving a bulky bag. He heaved it over his shoulder and walked back off screen in the direction he’d come.
‘The caretaker,’ Whitlam said.
‘What’s in the bag?’
Whitlam shook his head. ‘I know he has his own set of tools. I’d say it was that, at a guess.’
‘He worked here long?’ Falk asked.
‘About five years, I think. For what it’s worth, he seems like a good guy.’
Falk didn’t reply. They watched for another ten minutes until the trickle of pupils had all but dried up and the carpark was quiet. Just as Falk was losing hope, Karen appeared.
Falk’s breath caught in his throat. She had been beautiful in life, this dead woman. He watched as she strode across the screen, her pale hair blowing back off her face. The low-quality recording made it impossible to read her expression. She wasn’t tall but had the posture of a dancer as she walked briskly through the carpark, pushing Charlotte in a stroller from the direction of the crèche.
Three steps behind her, Billy came into view. Falk felt a chill at the sight of the stocky dark-haired child who looked so much like his father. Next to him, Raco shifted his weight and cleared his throat. Raco had seen first-hand what horror was waiting for the boy.
Billy was pottering, fully engrossed in some toy clutched in his hand. Karen turned and silently called to him over her shoulder, and he ran to catch up. She bundled both children into her car, fastening them in, shutting the door. She moved fast, efficiently. Was she rushing? Falk wasn’t sure.
On screen, Karen straightened and stood completely still for a moment, one hand on the car roof, her back to the camera. Her head tilted forward a fraction and she brought a hand to her face. Made one small movement with her fingers. Then another.
‘Jesus, is she crying?’ Falk said. ‘Rewind that bit, quick.’
