Down Among the Dead Men (Entangled Ignite) (4 page)

“Max told you that, I guess.”

“Sort of. Who’s looking after Ginny tonight?”

“My mother.”

“Your parents live in the town as well, then?”

“Only my mother. She lives with Ginny and me. She makes sure Ginny has a proper home life, including all the things a little girl likes and a father has no clue about.”

“And Max helps out?”

“Yes. It’s hard work looking after a toddler. Rose has to have a day to herself each week, and Max is our first-choice babysitter.”

Caitlyn nodded. “Max seems like a good kid.”

“Seems like?”

“Oh, I mean, she is. I don’t know her very well. This is my first visit out here.”

“She had to grow up early. Once her mother died she had to basically raise herself, because Wally was as useful as—” He stopped abruptly.

“A chocolate teapot?”

“That’s a polite way of putting it. Sorry, I forgot for a minute there about him being your father.”

She waved her fork at him. “Please, don’t censor yourself because of that. It’s not like he and I are close.”

“Right. So, what do you want to know for your book? Ask away.”

He had an infectious smile and bright, intelligent eyes. She could almost forget they’d only just met. He felt like a friend. “Great. Let’s see. Perhaps you could tell me what you know about ratting?”

He frowned.

“Or do you call it nightshifting? I think they’re one and the same, aren’t they?”

“What kind of book are you writing?”

“It’s fiction. A fictitious account of…well, you know, it’s a novel.” She’d have to refine her description before she used it again.

“But it’s about ratting?”

“Well, some of it might be. I haven’t written it yet, I’m doing my research first.”

“Research,” he repeated, his voice skeptical. “I gather you haven’t done much of it yet or you’d know that most people don’t talk about ratting openly. And I’d advise you to be careful who you talk to about this book. People around here consider ratters the lowest of the low.”

She leaned further across the table, lowering her voice. “But you’ll talk to me about it?”

He took a long drink while she waited for an answer. “Ratting,” he said as he placed his glass on the table, “is the practice of going into another person’s mine without permission and extracting the opal.”

“Stealing it. Right, I understand that much, but what I don’t understand is, why bother? I mean, why not mine their own? It’s not hard to register a claim to mine a plot of land, is it?”

“It’s not hard, but there are conditions involved. A minimum number of hours to be worked and so on. But it’s not that so much as the difficulty of working the claim, with no guarantee of striking lucky. Ratting eliminates all the hard work, or most of it. They go into a shaft where they know there’s already been an opal strike. A miner might have spent weeks, months even, carefully gouging out a drive—a horizontal tunnel—then, when he finally finds opal, these guys come in overnight and steal it.”

She drew in a sharp breath. “That would piss anyone off.”

“Too right.”

“Do you think any rat people have been killed for doing it?”

“Rat people?” He chuckled, sipped his beer, and looked at her over the top of the glass. “It’s highly likely,” he said, putting the glass down. “I wouldn’t say the opal fields are a lawless place exactly, but the miners aren’t angels. When they’ve slogged away to find the opal, they can hardly be expected to be happy about people stealing their strike, can they?”

“No. Of course not.”

“What’s more, ratters often leave the mine in an unsafe condition. Honest miners have died as a result of ratters doing their stuff.”

“Because they’re in a hurry to get the opal out?”

He nodded. “Partly. They have no reason to be concerned about the safety of future work, so they’ll take too much rock from one area and leave an overhang, for instance. They have no regard for the miners’ lives, so in return, the miners don’t waste any sympathy on them. I’ve heard of houses being bombed on suspicion of ratters living there. Gelignite justice, it’s called.”

Caitlyn gasped.

“In fact, if you’re under suspicion of being a ratter, it’s better to leave town and disappear rather than wait around to be proven innocent.”

Had Wally left town to save his neck? It was a possibility from the sound of it. But what about his daughter’s safety? He sank even lower in her estimation. Even if he was innocent, he’d done the wrong thing in leaving Max alone to face the consequences of his actions.

“Will this help you?”

She nodded, but as she lifted her glass, her hand shook. Max hadn’t told anyone her father had gone, which meant she could have been at risk at any time. She hoped their story about Wally going away would make people think twice about burning the house down. They wouldn’t target innocent family members, surely?

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

“I don’t understand how the ratters know when someone has found opal. Surely the miners don’t go around telling everyone?”

“No, they certainly don’t. But ratters are observant. They see who has opal to sell to the gem buyers who travel here from the cities. They notice who has money to spend on new furniture or appliances. Anything out of the ordinary attracts attention.”

She couldn’t resist a furtive glance around. Could any of the pub’s customers be ratters? More to the point, would any of the pub’s customers blow up the servo?

She turned back to Dale. She felt she could trust him, felt secure talking to him. Max seemed to like him, too. Maybe she should have faith in her own instincts and ask him for help?

He leaned closer. “Can I ask you something?”

She nodded.

“Have you struck opal?”

“Me? No, no. Nothing like that.” She shook her head.

He sat back. “What is it, then? Why do you look so scared? Are you in some sort of trouble?”

“Yes, but it’s not because of something I’ve done.” She hesitated, but the concern in his eyes convinced her to continue. “I kind of stumbled into it, and now I think I’m in over my head.”

He sat forward. “You can’t just walk away?”

“No.” God, she would if she could.

“Well, I don’t know if I can help but, if you want to talk to someone about it…” He shrugged. “I’ll listen.”

“I don’t know who I can trust.”

His eyes narrowed. “No, you don’t. It’s good to be cautious.”

She swallowed, and sent up a silent prayer that she was doing the right thing. “Wally has disappeared.”

“What are you talking about? I thought he’d gone away and asked you to look after Max?”

“That’s what we’re telling people, but actually, Max thinks he might have been ratting.” She kept her voice low, and shielded her mouth with her hand to prevent anyone lip-reading. “She thinks something might have happened to him.”

His voice was neutral when he said, “What does she think happened?”

“I don’t know exactly. She’s told me something vague about the night he left, but she doesn’t know anything for sure.”

“Did he tell you where he was going when he asked you to look after Max?”

“I haven’t had any contact with my father since I was eight years old.”

His eyes widened. “Then how did you come to be involved?”

“Pure fluke. I came up here looking for him, but I didn’t know he owned the servo. I drove in looking for help with the car, only it turned out that Max needed help as much as I did.”

“Crikey.” After a moment’s silence he said, “I’ll get some more drinks.”

She handed him her empty glass. While she waited, some instinct told her she was being watched. She turned her head and sure enough, Michael Peterson was staring at her from the next table, and not in an appreciative way, but as if he was trying to work out what she was up to. Out of uniform, but still working.

She leaned over. “What happened to the youths you had in the back of the police car when you filled up?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you want to know?”

“I didn’t like the way they were shouting at me. I wondered whether they were likely to come back to the servo.”

“No chance of that. I took them to Roxby Downs, where the magistrate remanded them into custody to await trial. You’ll be long gone by the time they get out.”

She nodded. This was welcome news. “Thanks.” She turned back around.

When Dale returned she said, “The barman looks about ready to retire. Is he Brenda’s husband?”

He handed her another glass of wine. “Yes, that’s Bruce. He and Brenda want to sell up, but they’re having trouble finding a buyer. No surprise there. Who’d come to this dump voluntarily? But they don’t want to leave the town without a pub, so they’re stuck here for the foreseeable future.”

“That’s very considerate of them.”

“They’re providing an essential service. They take it seriously.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Four years come winter.”

“So Ginny was only a baby when you moved here?”

He nodded.

“Why did you do that?”

“I had my reasons, just like everybody else who chooses to live here.”

And he wasn’t going to tell her what they were, that much was clear. She glanced around the room at the assorted pub patrons, wondering what kept them all in such an isolated place. A blonde carrying a thick folder entered the pub and hurried to the far side of the room, her generous hips swaying beneath a floral skirt.

Dale had seen her, too. He drained the last mouthful of his drink and said, “I have to go now. It’s been good talking to you, Caitlyn. I’ll probably see you around. Just remember to be careful who you’re questioning about certain things.”

His tone was casual. The look he gave her was anything but.

Chapter Four

It had been quite an evening. She’d found out that her own father might be a thief, and she’d left Max alone at the servo thinking that the threat to her safety in the shape of Terry and Kyle was out of the picture. Now, she knew that there was far more danger to worry about.

She jumped up, skirted the crowd, left by the front door, and dragged the car keys from her pocket. As she reached to unlock the driver’s door, a man leaned past her and pushed against it.

“What’s your rush, lady? I’ve been watching you. Why don’t you come back to my place? I’ve got something you’ll like.”

Oh God, she dreaded to think what it was. He stank of booze, and his bare belly was exposed between shorts that were too small and a shirt that had lost some buttons.

“No. Thanks, but I don’t want to. I have somewhere else to be.”

He caught her wrist, pulling her close, and held her hips against his while he ran a hand up and down her back. Then he kissed her. Roughly. Her stomach threatening to empty itself, she brought the car keys up and jabbed one into his arm with as much force as she could.

He lifted his lips from hers and frowned. “That hurt.”

“Good. It was meant to. Let go of me.”

He tightened his hold.

“Get off me,” she yelled.

A voice called from the direction of the pub doors. “Caitlyn? Delvin, put her down. Leave her alone.”

The brute let go of her, and she stumbled away from him.

“Are you all right?” By now, the voice was closer and she recognized it as Dale’s.

“O’course she’s all right.”

“Go home, Delvin.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Delvin glared at her before stumbling off.

Her pulse pounded as adrenaline she no longer needed drained from her body. She nodded at Dale as she opened the door of the car and got in. “Thanks. I’m fine now.”

With a hand on the roof of the car, he leaned in. “Are you sure? Do you want me to follow you to the servo to make sure you get home safely?”

She caught her breath at the knowledge that he thought something might happen to her, but common sense made her shake her head. “It’s only a couple of minutes’ drive. I’ll be there in no time. Honestly, I’ll be fine.”

“All right.” He tapped the roof with his fingertips, thinking. “We need to continue our conversation.”

“Yes, I know,” she said. “I’ll be in touch.” She waited for him to move, then shut the door when he did. Taking a few deep breaths, she started the engine.

Max was already asleep when she got back, so she went to bed herself only to find her mind gyrating with thoughts of violence, burning houses, and men who jumped out at women when they were alone in the dark. Delvin had taken her by surprise. She would have to be more aware of her surroundings in future. She had to be more careful.

…

The next morning Caitlyn started sorting through the papers on Wally’s desk, hoping to find a clue to his whereabouts. Max brought her a coffee and sat across from her.

“Anything interesting?”

“Not yet. I’d throw most of it out if it were mine. It doesn’t seem worth keeping.” She took a sip of coffee. “Are you babysitting today?”

“No. Why?”

She went back to the pile of papers. “I need to talk to Dale again and we didn’t arrange a time. I was wondering whether he’d be home if I went into town this morning.”

“Did you tell him about Dad?”

“Yes. He seems like an okay guy.”

“He is.” Max chewed on her lip. “What did he say?”

“Not much. At least, not about where to start looking. That’s why I want to talk to him again.”

“You don’t think he’ll turn us in, do you?”

“No, I don’t get that impression at all. But you know him better than me. What do you think?”

Max looked thoughtful. “He’s a good guy. If he was going to, he’d be straight up with us and give us some warning. I don’t think he will, though. He knows I’d never babysit for him again if he did.”

Caitlyn didn’t think that was much of a bargaining chip with his mother doing most of the babysitting, but hopefully they wouldn’t need one. “I’m hoping he’ll point me in the right direction, because I’m just flailing around here. I’m looking, but I don’t know what I’m seeing.” She fanned herself with the papers in her hand. The tiny office could double as a walk-in oven. “So…the best time to catch Dale at home?”

“I think he’d be there now.”

“I’ll take a chance, then.”

…

After following Max’s directions, Caitlyn parked outside Dale’s house, which stood in an elevated area looking over the town. The galvanized-iron house itself was ordinary, but on the wide veranda that spanned the front of the building, there was an extensive collection of potted plants. When she walked to the door, she found there were far more pots than she’d seen from the car.

Dale answered the bell wearing tatty jeans, a ripped T-shirt, goggles, and a dust mask. He swung the goggles onto the top of his head and tugged on the mask until it dangled around his neck. “Hi. I’m glad you found me. Come in.”

“It looks like you’re busy. We can do this some other time.”

“I’m due for a break. Come inside.”

“I’ve never seen so many potted plants,” she said as she stepped over the threshold. “Yours?”

“Er, no, not mine. My mother’s attempt to create a garden in the desert. She doesn’t complain, but I know she wishes she was home in her leafy garden in the suburbs.”

“Why is she here, then?”

“To look after Ginny.”

“It’s good of her to do that.”

He nodded and led her through to the large lounge room, which was much cooler than the one in Wally’s house and way more spacious. Not that it had appeared that way from the outside.

“Wow, it’s a bigger house than it looks.”

“That’s because you can only see some of it from outside. It’s a partial dugout. This room is mostly carved out of the hill.”

She turned, taking it all in—the walls made from solid blocks of rock in colors of ochre, cream, brown, and gray, the potbellied stove, which she imagined would make the room cozy in winter, and the stylish furniture. The room’s only light came from a shaft in the ceiling, but it was ample. “I had no idea. It’s fantastic.”

“This is nothing. Some of the Coober Pedy dugouts are so big they have underground swimming pools.”

“Wow.” She half expected to see opal shining in the rock. She made herself comfortable at one end of a squishy sofa and Dale sat on another sofa facing her. He removed the goggles and mask, tossing them onto a lamp table.

She gestured at them lying there. “What type of work do you do?”

“I’m a lapidary.”

“Uh-huh. And what’s that?”

“I cut and polish opals.”

“Of course. I should have known.”

He smiled, putting his dimples on full display. And she felt a little less stupid.

“I guess you’d be a pretty important person around here.”

He shrugged. “Not me, but the role is, yes. It’s pretty important to the miners. It means they can get the best possible price for their stones because it reveals their beauty. Would you like to see the workshop?”

“I’d love to, if that’s all right. I don’t want to get in your way.”

“You won’t.” He led her along a hallway to a room almost as large as the one they’d left but crammed with workbenches and bench-mounted equipment.

She had a good look around, careful not to touch any of the unfamiliar tools. “It looks like a serious business.”

“Opal is a valuable commodity. A small mistake, a single turn of the grinding wheel, could cost a huge amount in lost value to a miner. So yes, it is a serious business.”

He unlocked a wall-mounted cabinet, brought out a small glass jar, and held it under a bench light. “What do you think of this?”

Half filled with fluid, the jar contained a floating teardrop-shaped stone. She held her breath as blue and green glimmered through the glass. Red and yellow flared as Dale jiggled the jar, as if the stone had its own internal light source.

“It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I shouldn’t think so. This pattern—rolling flash, it’s called—is extremely rare. A collector’s item.”

“I can see why.”

“It takes five million years to form an opal this thick.” He returned the jar to its shelf and took down a tray containing lumps of milky white rock.

“What are they?”

“These are opals in their raw state, before I’ve removed the white stuff that we call ‘potch’ and polished them.”

“Oh.” She inspected the ordinary-looking chunks of stone, and then, at Dale’s nod, picked up one of them. Along an edge, the white stone had been chipped away to reveal a hint of blue-green.

“Amazing. If I’d come across one of these by chance, I would never have known they were worth anything.” She replaced the stone and Dale locked it away in the cabinet.

“Will that help you?”

“What?” She gave him a blank look. “Oh, that. I didn’t get around to telling you last night…there is no book. I invented it to explain why I needed to ask questions.”

He nodded. “I thought that might be the case. I’ve thought about little else since you told me your problem last night.”

His hand brushed her back as he ushered her out of the workshop. The warmth of personal contact in the coolness of the underground room sent a shiver through her. Embarrassed, she looked sideways at him as he switched off the lights in the workshop and locked the door with no sign that he’d noticed.

When they were back in the lounge room he said, “What do you do in Sydney?”

“I was a chef in one of the city’s best restaurants, but I’ve quit my job there. My boss threw a hissy fit when I said I had to fly to Adelaide to help my mother, and said some things that made me angry. I won’t work for him again. I don’t know whether I’ll ever go back to Sydney.”

“And Wally’s really your father?”

“He is, but like I said, I haven’t seen him since I was a child. I definitely don’t have hopes of a happy reunion. He’s more likely to be angry when I tell him why I’m looking for him.”

Dale gave her a questioning look.

“It’s family stuff. Like I said, my mum has a problem. The point is, I already wanted to find him for my own reasons, but now for Max as well.”

“Tell me you weren’t serious about him ratting.”

“I wish I could, especially now you’ve told me how serious it is, but that’s what Max suspects.”

“Does she?” He grimaced. “She’s not one to dream up something like that unless there’s a basis for it. She’s sensible. But what I don’t understand is why she didn’t tell me he was missing. She must know she can trust me.”

“I think she does, as much as she trusts anyone. She’s terrified of having everything taken away from her—her home, the business.”

“She trusts you, it seems.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Yes, but I almost wish she didn’t. I feel she has these huge expectations for me, and I don’t know whether I’ll be able to fulfil them. I don’t know where to start.”

“I’d hate to see her suffer because of Wally. We’d all miss her if she had to leave town, but if she did, I’d prefer it to be on her own terms.”

“Do you think anyone’s noticed that Wally isn’t around?”

“I doubt it. The servo’s open whether he’s there or not.”

“I think the police officer might be suspicious, but I don’t know whether he’s basing that on anything in particular. I get the impression that he thinks I’m in on it, whatever it is.”

“You haven’t given him any reason to think so?”

She hesitated. “I might have been a bit evasive at first. I wasn’t sure how to answer his questions, but the more I lie, the easier it gets.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

Seeing the amusement in his eyes, she laughed. “I know. It’s a bit of a worry, actually.”

His smile deepened into laughter and he looked ten years younger. She tilted her head and studied his face, enjoying the transformation as well as the gentle camaraderie between them.

“Seriously, though,” he said as his laughter died, “you need to be convincing. You don’t want to arouse anybody’s suspicions because that would place you in danger.”

“I understand. After what you told me last night, I can’t help wondering whether Wally’s done a runner. Maybe he thought someone was on to him.”

“It’s certainly possible.”

“But to just go off without making arrangements for his daughter?”

“He knows she’s capable of looking after herself. In fact, in some ways, she’s better off without him.”

Caitlyn decided not to say anything about Kyle and Terry as it wasn’t related to Wally’s disappearance. The incident could have happened at any time Wally was away from the servo, even if he was only at the general store, and it was Max’s private business.

“If he was working alone—”

“Max doesn’t think he was. He had a regular visitor, a man called Chet. Not a local. They went out together the last night she saw him.”

“So, there’s a good chance this Chet knows something. I don’t suppose she knew where they were going.”

“She thinks they went to the opal fields, but she doesn’t know for sure.” Caitlyn crossed her legs, uncrossed them again, and blew out a breath. If she was going to ask him for help, now was the time, but she didn’t know what she’d do if he said no. She shot him a small smile. “I’d be grateful if you could give me some idea how to go about finding him. I don’t know where to start looking.”

“I’ll help you.” At the sound of the front door opening, Dale checked his watch. “Ginny’s home,” he said as he rose. “Look, can you leave it with me? I need to give it some thought.”

“Sure,” she said, taking the hint and getting to her feet. “Any advice you can give me will be great.”

He touched her shoulder as she passed him. When she looked up he narrowed his eyes and said, “Don’t do anything rash before you hear from me.”

She shook her head. She deliberately shut down the awareness that had coursed through her at his touch. He was easy to talk to, one of those people with a natural ability to listen, and he was serious about helping her. There was a lot to like about that. She didn’t need anything else.

She walked ahead of him to the door, where a giggling Ginny grabbed her around the knees. “Hello,” Caitlyn said. “What have you been doing?”