Dark Country (18 page)

She let that sink in for a moment, watching the faces, the exchange of glances. The news certainly discomforted some of them,
puzzled others. Years of prejudice was going to take some shifting.

‘If any of you witnessed anything,’ she continued, ‘or have any information about how the fire started, I’d like you to come
over to the station.’

Blank looks and shaking heads answered the question.

‘We’d just started playing cards,’ Tom Trevelyn said, indicating Jim and Frank Williams, the usual Friday night card crew.
‘Then we heard the bang.’

‘Eleni and I, we were watching TV,’ George Pappas volunteered. They lived behind the store they’d run for decades. ‘We too
heard the bang.’

It seemed that no-one had seen anything. Those who’d been at the working bee at the hall had either gone straight home or,
like Jim and his mates, had gone to the pub.

She stifled a disheartened sigh. ‘Okay, thanks, everyone. The fire’s contained now, and the RFS will keep watch on the embers
all night, so it’s safe for you to return to your homes. Thank you all for your cooperation in the evacuation. I know it must
have been a worrying time for you.’

She pulled her cardigan around her as she stepped out again into the evening air, the aroma of smoke that clung to it
scratching her eyes. The post-adrenaline let-down had settled in, making her feel the chill more, and long for a warm bed
and oblivion. But Adam and Steve would be waiting for her in the station, and there were too many questions that needed to
be answered to even think about resting yet.

No-one had followed her from the the Wilsons’ place. Well, no-one except him. Maybe she’d forgotten, or was disregarding,
the threatening text message, but Gil wasn’t. The situation had escalated far too fast to take any risks.

He waited until she emerged from the hall before he stepped out from the shadows of the gum tree in her backyard.

‘You shouldn’t be wandering around in the dark alone, Blue.’

She waved her hand at the spotlights glowing from the eaves of the hall. ‘It’s hardly dark. And it’s probably a whole fifteen
metres to my place.’

‘It’s dark on Scrub Road,’ he pointed out.

‘Not with a good moon. And there are a dozen houses along the road,’ she retorted with a sharp edge. But the edge blunted
when she added, ‘Don’t creep around behind me, Gillespie. I might mistake you for a thug.’

He’d half-expected her to be angry. He’d known her less than twenty-four hours, didn’t have any right to play the protector,
especially for a capable police officer. But he couldn’t shake off his fear for her, and wouldn’t risk contemplating why it
was so strong.

He changed the subject to more practical, logical matters. ‘The text message … could they trace the sender?’

‘No luck. I got the report a short while ago. It was a pre-paid phone, owned by a Sydney school kid who lost it last week.
The message was sent from somewhere in the Birraga area, but the phone’s now gone dead, so we can’t trace its whereabouts.
They’ve probably tossed it in the bush somewhere, impossible to find.’

Inside the station, the interview room seemed smaller with Fraser and Adam seated at the table. Claustrophobic, almost, particularly
with both of them looking at him. Gil made his face expressionless, and wished himself anywhere but there.

Kris pulled out one of the two remaining chairs and sank on to it, with a steadying hand on the table. Gil reluctantly took
the other, nearest the door.

Fraser took the lead, casting Gil a guarded look, but not objecting to his presence. ‘Adam’s updated me, Kris, on what you
discovered tonight. So we’re all agreed that the circumstances of the fire are suspicious.’

‘Did you have a look at the site, Steve? Anything obvious there?’

‘I’m no expert, and the place is still too hot to go right in, but the RFS guys think it started in the office, and there
are signs of accelerant in that area. It’s just as well Adam copied those images because the chances of there being anything
salvageable from the computer are bugger all.’

‘What about the garbage skip?’ Kris asked. ‘It was at the other end of the building.’

‘It’s a heap of molten plastic,’ Adam replied. ‘Forensics might be able to get something from it, but it will take them a
lot of time and processing.’

‘Shit.’ Kris closed her eyes briefly in frustration.

Fraser leaned forward. ‘Did you see anyone around when you were down there, Adam? Or you, Gillespie?’

‘A couple of truckies,’ Adam said. ‘Nobody I knew. They left around the time I did.’

‘They were there when I was there, earlier on.’ Gil spoke for the first time. ‘They probably heard me talking with Jeanie
about the security cameras.’

‘And me, too,’ said Adam. ‘In fact, when we were leaving, one of them asked me about the “excitement” this morning. The news
will be all around the district, and I didn’t think of it as anything more than a casual query.’

‘Did either of you see who the trucks belonged to?’ Kris asked. ‘A transport company?’

Gil hadn’t noticed – the trucks had just been shapes in the dark – but Adam had.

‘One of them at least was a Flanagan’s truck.’

Flanagan. The name hit Gil like a physical blow, and some of the puzzle pieces slammed into place in a recognisable picture,
dark and threatening.

‘Flanagan’s?’ he asked sharply. ‘As in Dan Flanagan?’

‘Dan Flanagan and sons, these days,’ Kris answered. ‘Brian and Kevin are both involved in the family businesses. Irrigation
equipment, earthmoving, harvesting and transport. Flanagan’s Agricultural Company has a virtual monopoly for the entire region.
And, with the drought bankrupting many graziers, Flanagan’s has been buying up properties these past few years. Across the
northwest, and in to Queensland.’

‘What do you know of him, Gillespie?’ Fraser demanded.

‘Flanagan got his start working for the ’Ndrangheta in rural Queensland in the early nineteen-sixties,’ he said, uncomfortable
about drawing everyone’s attention, but ploughing on anyway. ‘Extortion and blackmail were his main focus back then. He came
here in the late sixties, and within a few years he was managing a pretty large marijuana production network for the mob.’

Kris frowned, studying him. ‘I’ve heard some stories about Flanagan and his family over the years, but nobody’s ever produced
facts, evidence or witnesses. Have you got anything more than hearsay to connect him with organised crime?’

He respected her for needing evidence, at the same time as he worried about all she didn’t know.

‘Flanagan is careful. Those who cooperate aren’t pressed too hard; there can even be benefits to having someone as influential
as Flanagan on-side. But he uses fear to keep people silent. Getting on his wrong side is dangerous, and he doesn’t hesitate
to act on his threats. I could suggest names of people to ask, but chances are they’d deny they know anything.’

‘So how do you know all this?’ Fraser challenged him, folding his arms and staring. ‘You left here a bloody long time ago.’

The challenge held an edge that made Gil even more wary. He gathered from a conversation he’d overhead in Birraga, that Fraser
was usually based in Moree. But by the way Kris had described Flanagan’s expanding business interests, nowhere in the northwest
– and no cop – would be out of potential reach of his influence.

Steve Fraser displayed a brash confidence that bordered on arrogance, and an attitude that suggested he didn’t have much
time for authority. Not a combination that Gil felt inclined to trust. Fraser couldn’t be suspected of passing on the information
about the security footage, because Kris hadn’t had time to inform him before the fire, but he’d had plenty of opportunity
during the afternoon to leak other details about the investigation – including the fact of Kris’s alibi.

Still, both Kris and Adam seemed comfortable with him, despite the occasional hint of annoyance in Kris’s body language. Annoyance,
not distrust.

Gil had to rely on her judgement.

‘My old man ran a portable sawmill,’ he explained, ‘so we worked all around the district, felling trees for landholders and
sawing timber. Other than a “donated” load of lumber every now and again, we didn’t have much business with Flanagan, but
I kept my eyes open and my mouth shut. I didn’t go to school much after fourteen or so, but a few of the guys I’d known there
ended up working for Flanagan. I saw them around here and there, and sometimes they didn’t keep as quiet as they should have.’

‘So, what’s the connection with the mafia? Last I heard, “Flanagan” wasn’t an Italian name.’

Gil responded to the question, not Fraser’s sarcasm. ‘There’s plenty of organised crime run by Australians. But as far as
Flanagan goes, I didn’t find out all his history and connections until years later.’

Not until the day he’d delivered a couple of cases of single-malt scotch to the Russo family Christmas party, and come face
to face with Dan and his sons.

He met Kris’s earnest stare for a moment before he transferred his attention back to Fraser, and explained. ‘I bumped into
him when he came to visit his brother-in-law in Sydney.’

‘His brother-in-law?’ The question seemed genuine. Fraser either didn’t have a clue who Flanagan was, or he was a damn good
actor.

‘Yes. Dan’s wife was Gianni Russo’s twin sister.’

He should have left when the others did. There wasn’t much more that could be done; the fire site was secure, guarded by Birraga
police officers, waiting for the arson investigators and forensic team. Both he and Adam had given descriptions of the two
truckies, and Steve Fraser would attempt to follow up those with the Flanagan Agricultural Company in the morning. No-one
expected he’d find out much. Fraser had headed back to Birraga, and Adam had finally been ordered off-duty and home.

Kris tried to hold back a yawn as she closed the door behind Adam, and failed. She had to be near collapse from exhaustion,
and she moved stiffly, wincing in pain from her injuries.

‘I should go,’ Gil said.

‘To where?’ Her blunt question echoed his own thoughts. ‘If Jeanie’s cabin isn’t a heap of ashes, it will still be off-limits.
And last time I looked your father’s hut wasn’t in any fit state to stay in. So you might as well just sleep in my spare room
again.’

‘Is that wise?’

‘Wise?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Seems to me that given the threats and the day we’ve both had, it makes more sense than you
staying alone in the pub, and me staying alone here. If anyone comes looking for us, or we develop any aftereffects from the
smoke, at least this way there’ll be someone nearby.’

There were still reasons why he should refuse – to protect her from insinuation and gossip, and from association with him
– but only one overriding reason to stay: to protect her from harm.

Jeanie had almost died, and he still didn’t know if the fire was set to eliminate evidence, or to punish her for supporting
him. Maybe both. Kris had spoken out in support of him too many times already, and that information would have made it back
to whoever was pulling the strings. With it likely that Flanagan’s local resources were involved now, there was no way could
he leave her alone and vulnerable in her house overnight.

He nodded and muttered his thanks, following her down the short corridor to her residence.

She raised her arm to lock the connecting door, sniffed at her sleeve and grimaced. ‘Sheesh. These clothes smell like a bad
barbeque. And yours are probably the only ones you have. Toss them outside the door when you go to bed, and I’ll run them
through the washer with mine. If I hang them up tonight, they should be dry by morning.’

It was a good plan, except for the fact that she was almost asleep on her feet. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and
resisted the urge to pick her up and carry her to her room.

‘You go to bed, Blue. I’ve worked nights for years, and I don’t usually sleep until the bats go home to roost, so I’ll stay
up to hang out the washing.’

She was tired enough not to argue. ‘I’ve got some old cargo shorts that will probably fit you. And I’ll find a T-shirt. They’re
not much but …’ She turned away, the words trailing off.

But it’s better than wandering around her place stark naked, he finished the sentence in his head. Being naked anywhere near
her would definitely be a bad idea.