‘Things will get better,’ Falk lied automatically.
‘Will they?’ Whitlam said. He was slumped back down in his seat, touching his nose gingerly. ‘I’m not sure. I remember when I used to worry about normal things. Footy scores and reality TV. Seems unbelievable. Now it’s the school, and the funding gaps, always trying to find the money. Little kids turning up dead, for God’s sake.’
Whitlam stared out of the window until they pulled up outside his house. A welcoming light glowed over the porch. Relief passed across his busted features. Home.
Falk, exhausted and uncomfortable in his sticky clothes, was hit with a fierce longing for his own flat.
‘Thanks for this. You want to come in for a drink?’ Whitlam asked as they got out of the car, but Falk shook his head.
‘I’ll take a raincheck, thanks. It’s been enough for one day.’
Falk opened the boot and jostled the bike, twisting the handlebars until it came free.
‘Sorry if it’s made a mess,’ Whitlam said, peering at the upholstery in the dark.
‘Don’t worry about it. You’ll be OK from here? With the nose. And everything else?’
Whitlam swung his bike around. He attempted a smile. ‘Yeah, I’ll live. Sorry for being morose. It’s the over-the-counter paracetamol talking.’
‘It won’t always be like this. You’re just unlucky to be caught up in it.’
‘That’s the thing, though, isn’t it? No-one can control the ripple effect of something like this.’ Whitlam’s voice sounded heavy. Falk wasn’t sure if it was just the nose. ‘It’s almost funny. I’m standing here feeling sorry for myself, but then I think about poor Billy. Talk about being caught in the wake. I tell you, whatever went on in that house – with Luke, the drought, the farm – whatever the reason, that little boy should never have been touched by it.’
At the top of the driveway, the front door opened and Sandra stood framed in the glow. She waved. Whitlam said goodbye and Falk watched as he wheeled his bike up the path. He still looked a little shaky. As Falk clambered back into the car, his phone beeped once. It was a text from Raco. Falk read the words and thumped the steering wheel in delight.
Want to know why Jamie Sullivan was in the laneway? Call me ASAP.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The man was already waiting patiently outside the station when Falk and Raco arrived early the next morning.
‘Dr Leigh.’ Raco introduced Falk. ‘Thanks for coming.’
‘That’s fine. It’ll have to be quick, though, if you don’t mind. I’ve got a full surgery today. And I’m on call later.’
Raco said nothing, just smiled politely and unlocked the station door. Falk looked at the doctor curiously. He hadn’t met the town’s GP before, but recognised the name from the Hadlers’ murder report. First medical attendee on the scene. He was in his mid-forties, had a full head of hair and the healthy glow of someone who practised what he preached.
‘I brought the notes on the Hadlers.’ Dr Leigh put a folder on the interview room table. ‘That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Any progress?’
He sat down in one of the offered seats and crossed his legs, relaxed. He had an iron-rod spine and excellent posture.
‘Some.’ Raco’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. ‘Dr Leigh, could you please tell us where you were on the afternoon of the twenty-second of February?’
Jamie Sullivan stood alone in his paddock and watched Luke Hadler’s ute disappear in the distance. As it vanished, he took out his mobile and sent a single text. He waited. Within two minutes the phone buzzed with a response. Sullivan gave a tiny nod and headed to his own four-wheel drive.
Surprise darted across the doctor’s face and he gave a confused smile.
‘You know where I was that afternoon. I was with you at the Hadler murder scene.’
‘And the two hours before that?’
A pause.
‘I was at the surgery.’
‘With patients?’
‘Earlier, yes. Then I rested in the flat above the surgery for a couple of hours.’
