The Good Daughter (13 page)

Zach took the docket, folded it, and put it in his pocket.

Now, through the riflescope, Zach takes his time and watches them say goodbye. He lies down on his belly and moves the scope from window to window. He can focus his attention on what he wants to focus his attention on, and block out what he doesn’t want to see, he can put his own words and thoughts into action. He can – he won’t say exactly – close his eyes and put himself down in the house with Rebecca. He can have her apologising, in her dressing-gown on the edge of her bed, one leg exposed, the side of her breast, listening and agreeing there is a way they can do this … He can roll over and forget things for a bit.

At last Aden leaves and Zach feels much better. He takes off his backpack and puts the rifle beneath a fallen tree. He runs his tongue along his teeth and rakes his fingers through his hair. It’s a return to a good place. There’s the clamour in his heart at the thought of seeing her, the sweaty palms, the dry mouth, a reminder that only a short time has passed. He is still Zach, she is still Rebecca, and they live next door to one another in Kiona …

She is around the back of the carport, squatting and growling at a dog. Zach hangs back a moment. There are bits of rubbish and the remnants of a garbage bag spread all over the backyard. The dog being yelled at is cowering and the other dogs come around and stand over it. ‘Get out!’ she is saying. ‘Go on, all of you, out!’

And suddenly, with savagery far outstripping the moment, two of the larger dogs attack the dog being reprimanded.

‘Hey!’ she says, jumping up.

The set-upon dog squeals with fear. The dogs crowd in and bite it. Rebecca takes a plastic lid from the rubbish bin and throws it at them. This has no effect whatsoever. The singled-out dog continues to squeal. Rebecca’s voice lifts to a shrill scream. ‘Get out! Stop!’

Zach jumps the fence.

She sees him and their eyes lock, but the dogfight can’t be ignored. ‘Get the hose,’ he says to her.

The dogs are so engrossed they don’t see him. There are fl ashes of bloodied jaws, wet gurgling, and a terrible gnashing sound emanating from the centre. The prone dog grows quiet.

Rebecca rushes back, pale-faced, with the hose; Zach grabs the broom.

She sprays the dogs and he pushes them apart. The animals seem to have lost all sense. They snap at the head of the broom, at anything they run into. After a few more seconds, they begin to back away.

The worst offenders slink off growling, others go under the house to lick their wounds. Rebecca is shaken and wet; Zach is also trembling. It’s a spectacle you don’t see every day. The dog at the centre of it, the one at fault, doesn’t get up. It’s on its side in the mud and garbage. It’s the German short-haired pointer, the youngest and most immature member of the pack. It has puncture wounds on its face, an ear torn almost through, bristled glistening fur around its neck and down its body. It doesn’t try to rise as they kneel beside it. ‘My God,’ Rebecca murmurs, ‘what have they done?’

She tentatively touches the dog on the top of the head. A flicker of life comes into the animal’s eyes, but then the glazed look returns. It’s breathing with difficulty.

‘I have to take him in to the vet,’ Rebecca says.

She gets to her feet, turns to the house, and then turns back to him. ‘I’m going to ring someone. Would Cummings come over?’

‘What for?’

‘I’m not allowed to drive.’

‘He might come over and shoot it, but I don’t think he’s gunna take you into town.’

‘Who else could I ring?’

Zach shakes his head.

‘Help me put him in the car. I have to take him in. We have to hurry.’

‘I don’t think it’s worth it. He’ll have to be put down.’

‘Help me carry him.’

‘I don’t think there’s any point, Rebecca.’

She squats down over the dog, and holds her hands above its chest like a faith healer. ‘What can we do?’

‘He’s going to die. Look at his neck, his windpipe is crushed.’

‘We have to do something.’

‘It’s probably best to put him out of his misery. I can shoot him for you.’

She looks up.

‘You can take him to the vet if you want, but it’s not like you’re going to be able to afford the bill. I can do it for you right now.’

She goes back on her haunches.

‘I’ve got a rifle with me.’

She doesn’t seem to hear this and looks around the yard. Her hands are clasped together. ‘I might ring Aden.’

‘I’ve got a rifle with me,’ Zach repeats.

‘What?’

‘I was out shooting. I can run and get it.’

‘You’ve got a gun?’

‘Do you want me to get it?’

The dog’s breathing continues to rasp in and out.

‘I don’t know …’

‘It’s twenty minutes in, Rebecca. He’ll die in the car.’

‘Do you think?’

‘I’ll go and get the gun and you can decide.’

Zach runs. It’s the first purposeful thing he’s done in days. Life is better with Rebecca in it. It’s richer, more exciting. He reaches the tree and pulls out the rifle. He grabs his backpack and sprints back down through the gully.

She’s patting the dog when he returns. ‘He’s been fitting.’

‘Do you want to go inside while I do it?’

‘I …’ She gets up and backs away. ‘Are you going to do it right now?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll turn away.’

She does, and Zach shoots the dog once in the head and then watches to see if it’s dead.

Rebecca turns around and looks down at it.

‘Aren’t you upset?’ she asks.

There is a neat hole where the bullet went, a trickle of blood.

‘No.’

‘You should feel something – it’s not normal to feel nothing.’

‘I feel pleased it’s cleanly dead.’

‘God, Zach, your bedside manner could do with some work.’

Together they pick up the body and put it down on the path that runs along the back of the house. They go to the tap and wash their hands, and then walk together to check on the other dogs. She calls the last few out from under the porch. She hesitates before touching them, having seen now what they can do.

‘Murderers,’ she says, half joking.

The two German shepherds she can’t look in the eye, and no wonder, they’re the kingpins in the pack. Zach can’t look at them either for fear they might take it personally, or remember him from the last few days. Really, he thinks, it’s like living with a couple of grizzlies, the idea of domesticity absurd in that moment.

It’s hot. Rebecca’s wet from the hose. Her shoes squelch as she walks. She waves flies from her face. With hands on her hips, out the front of the house, she sighs and invites him in for a drink. ‘I guess I have to,’ she says.

‘Really, Rebecca – a
drink
– are you sure? Do you really think … ?’

‘Shut up, Zach,’ she says, ‘don’t even joke.’

He smiles, pierced with joy to be with her.

‘You shot my dog,’ she goes on. ‘That hardly sets you up for the Nobel Peace Prize.’

‘Ignoble Peace Prize maybe.’

‘Stop trying to impress me, Kincaid.’

The house has been tidied up, as though overnight she has spread her care for things beyond her bedroom; it’s still soiled though, hints of Aden everywhere. Zach eyes the Tally-Ho papers on the kitchen table, the packet of tobacco, the same brand as the one in his mother’s van. He sits on the very edge of the stool.

‘Do you want a cold drink?’ she asks.

Zach spots the bottle of bourbon on the sink.

‘I’ll have a bourbon and Coke thanks.’

‘Don’t be dumb. Do you want a Coke?’

‘Yes, with bourbon.’

She drops her head back. ‘Why are you here again?’

‘Well, you drink it, right? Isn’t it what he gets you drunk with? Doesn’t he top up your glass, roll you a joint and spike your drinks?’

‘Do you want a Coke or not?’

‘Does he make you drink and smoke and screw all at the same time?’

It’s too far, he knows it, but finds he can’t help it – he wants to touch her, even if it is only pokes and prods.

She looks away.

Zach rocks on his stool as a way to soften what he’s said.

‘When I’m old,’ she says, ‘will you still walk up to me and say stuff like that? Will you always think you’re better than me, no matter what happens? If I end up rich and you end up broke in the gutter, would you still say stuff like that if I passed?’

‘I might ask you for a drink, if I’m a bum in the gutter.’

‘You want a drink …’ she says, and unscrews the lid on the bourbon. She splashes the alcohol into a glass. She takes the Coke from the fridge and pours it in. ‘There,’ she says, putting the drink down in front of him, spilling some on the bench. ‘After it you can go. I’m not having you here drunk if I don’t know what you’re going to do or say sober.’ She shakes the spilt drink from her hand.

‘If I’ve got a bad bedside manner, then you’ve got bad bartending skills.’

‘That’d be right – you the doctor, me the barmaid.’

‘You said it.’

‘Get stuffed, Zach.’

‘I’m
joking
.’

‘How any of you ever think it’s funny I’ll never know.’

He takes a sip of his drink. It’s strong and he can’t help but grimace. ‘You’re right, after this I could say anything.’

He glances at her.

‘Do you want me to help you get rid of the dog?’ he asks, after a moment. ‘I’ll take it up the bush if you like.’

‘It’s all right; I’ll bury him.’

‘It’s the end of summer, the ground’s rock hard. You won’t be able to dig a hole deep enough.’

‘I’ll find somewhere.’

‘Have you got an old vegie garden?’

‘It’s all right, I’ll deal with it.’

‘You mean when
Aden
gets
home
.’

‘Why do you do that?’

‘I would have thought it was obvious.’

She breathes out heavily, takes a glass from the draining board and pours herself a Coke. ‘Any news about your mum?’

‘I’d rather talk about dead dogs.’

‘You must be pleased she’s all right – you know, up in Charlotte’s Pass. That’s right, isn’t it? She’s up there.’

‘Who cares?’

‘You care.’

‘No, not really, I don’t care much.’

‘Yes, you do.’

‘Yeah, all right, I’m beside myself with worry.’ He sips his drink and watches her. ‘I’d ask you, wouldn’t I – if I did care, I’d ask you what happened. I’d ask if Aden’s told you.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘I’m not being stupid.’

She draws in her cheeks. ‘Well, you said you knew what happened to her. Hasn’t she left your dad?’

‘No.’

‘That’s what it seems like.’

‘You should probably tell Aden that he better prepare himself for a bit of a shock – my father doesn’t forget things.’

‘I don’t think this is going to work. You should probably go.’

‘Is dole bludger due home?’

She stares at him. ‘What were you doing out shooting in the middle of the day, anyway?’

‘I wasn’t shooting. I was watching you.’

‘It wouldn’t surprise me.’

‘Then don’t be surprised.’

‘Hurry up and finish.’

‘You better tell Aden too – when we do find out he organised Mum’s disappearance, he’s got no chance of keeping the restaurant. He’s got no chance of keeping it anyway.’

‘Why do you hate him?’

‘You don’t know what he’s like. He took Mum up there. He’s lied to the police.’

‘He didn’t have anything to do with it.’

‘He was probably gunna ask Dad for more money.’

‘He was playing cricket. No-one did anything.’

‘They want the restaurant.’

‘How does this get them the restaurant? It probably does the opposite.’

‘So he
has
talked about it?’

‘No.’

Zach drinks and watches her. ‘My mother knew him before this, you know. He’s been at our house. He’s written in one of her art pads.’

‘What?’

‘He’s written his name and number in an art pad out in Mum’s van. She doesn’t let anyone out there, or let anyone look at her stuff, but Aden has been out there pawing all over everything.’

‘How do you know it’s his writing?’

‘Show me his writing and I’ll tell you.’

Her gaze becomes vague. She sets her drink aside and folds her arms. ‘They probably did know one another. Your mother knew Kara, they were probably friends and Aden went one time to look at her art. It doesn’t mean anything just because his name is on something.’

‘Don’t forget
he
knew he was Dad’s son – Mum didn’t. So who’s the liar?’

‘Your mum might have known.’

‘She didn’t. I know, Rebecca – I know for a fact he’s been up there in Charlotte’s Pass. Did he give you that jacket?’

‘Why?’

‘Cause if he did, he bought it up there.’

She sniffs and shakes her head. ‘You can’t believe someone might want to be with me.’

‘What time did they leave that night she went missing? How long did they stay?’

‘I don’t have to tell you anything.’

‘Were they here all night?’

‘What do you mean – they? What night?’

‘Him and Nigel Fairbanks, the night she disappeared. Everyone knows the two of them were here with you.’

Rebecca’s gaze clouds with thought; she reaches for her drink and takes a sip. She looks around for something, most likely her cigarettes. She turns and puts her glass on the sink. He watches her.