“First one’s in a few weeks.”
“Then off to uni?” Falk said as Joel nodded. “And then what, eventually?”
“Law, I think.” The boy didn’t sound entirely enthused. “Something that gets me a job somewhere else, anyway.”
“You don’t like it here?”
“It’s not that, it’s just boring.”
“Find it a bit quiet?”
“Yeah.” Joel looked at Falk like nothing could be more obvious. “Because it is.”
“That’s not always a bad thing, though.” Falk looked out through the kitchen doors to the veranda, where he’d sat with Gemma the first night he’d been there. The bushland was deep and still and he could hear the lorikeets calling to each other. “Sometimes that can actually be a good thing.”
Joel was staring at him with a slight frown, unsure whether or not he was meant to respond. Falk didn’t blame him. He cleared his throat.
“Listen, I had a closer look at your video. Of the accident.”
“Yeah?” Joel straightened immediately against the kitchen counter.
“Don’t get excited, though. It was small stuff in the end.” Falk pulled out his phone. “It’s a bit hard to see on this screen, but—”
“I’ve got it on the computer.” Joel put down his empty glass with a clatter and motioned for Falk to follow. Joel’s bedroom was marginally neater than Falk might have expected, but that wasn’t saying a lot. The boy swept an armload of assorted junk aside so Falk could lean in to see the screen on the desk.
“Yeah, there.” Falk pointed as Joel pulled up the video and paused it. He explained about the glass, and told him what both Shane and Sergeant Dwyer had said. “So it doesn’t really take things forward. I’m sorry.”
The boy was silent for a long time, trawling back and forth through the footage.
“Someone was trying to hide what they’d done,” he said finally. “While Dad was still down there in the water?”
“It’s possible, yeah.”
“Who would do that?”
“People do all kinds of things when they’re scared or desperate,” Falk said. “I’m not excusing it. It doesn’t make it right, but it happens.”
“Unbelievable.”
Joel shook his head, his eyes still on the screen. He had one hand on the mouse, and with the other he absently reached across his desk and picked up a slender plastic jar. The container had been kept separate from the rest of the clutter, tucked in carefully at the end of a stack of books. It was a cheap screw-top thing, small enough to fit in Joel’s palm, and the boy rolled it between his fingers as he scrolled with his other hand. Something was rattling around inside that Falk couldn’t make out. Then Joel sighed and put it down, and the contents suddenly became clear. Falk blinked.
“What’ve you got in there, mate?” he asked, but he had guessed now. Inside were a few small shards of wood, raw brown on one side, blue on the other.
“Paint samples from the broken barrier,” Joel said, without looking up from the screen.
“Seriously? Can I see?”
“Sure.” Joel pushed the jar toward him. It was an ordinary container, nothing official about it. Falk held it up and peered at the contents. The wooden shards inside were rough and uneven. He looked at the boy, who was still staring at the screen.
“Did you get these yourself? From the accident scene?”
“Yeah. A couple of days later. Scraped off a few bits with a penknife.” Joel sensed Falk’s surprise and looked up. “What can I say? I watch a lot of movies. And he was my dad, and he was gone, and no one seemed to be able to tell me what was going on.” He shrugged, hisvoice quieter. “I dunno. Just felt weird to leave it all to be cleared away, like it had never happened.”
Falk could understand that. But still. He imagined Joel, twelve years old, down there alone, penknife chipping against the wood. “Does Gemma know?”
“Yeah. She didn’t like having it in the house at first, but—” Joel’s expression softened a little. “I really wanted to keep it, so she let me.”
Falk turned the jar over in his hand, then stepped closer to the window to get a better look. He moved aside a dusty collection ofStar Warsfigurines and held the container up to the light.
