The Shearer's Wife Read online

  Ian had ended up sitting down one end of the bar that night, talking to her as much as he could. By the time the shed was finished, two weeks later, she’d handed in her resignation and said goodbye to her parents, leaving in the passenger seat of the Kingswood.

  Her mother had been horrified. ‘You’ve only just met him.’ That was the first thing she’d said.

  ‘Think of the family name—you leaving with him and not being married.’ Her father had frowned deeply. With his role as a lay preacher in the Baptist Church, Rose could only imagine what he’d think this was doing to his Christian image, and he hadn’t left her in any doubt of what he thought of her decision. ‘Living together and not being married is against God’s law, and no daughter of mine will be seen to be involved in such sin.’

  And, finally, they had both agreed: ‘Rose, you’ll be back here begging us to take you in within weeks. Well, my girl, if you leave, don’t think that will happen.’

  That had been that. Rose, the daughter who had never rebelled, against her family or society, had picked up her bag and walked away from the tidy front yard, with its lilly-pilly hedge fence and green lawn that her father mowed every Saturday afternoon.

  Her parents had stood in the doorway until she climbed into Ian’s car, then turned and shut their door tightly, finalising the end of their relationship.

  Their marriage had come eight months later, when they’d rolled into the sleepy town of Townsville. Rose had a photo of them standing on the town hall steps, both looking uncomfortable in their Sunday best. The registry office wedding had been followed by drinks at the Shamrock Hotel, where Ian had bragged to all who would listen that his Rose was the prettiest girl around. Their bed had been tiny and Ian’s drunken snores had kept her awake. As had an annoying mozzie who seemed to know exactly where her ear was. Nothing like she’d imagined her wedding day would be.

  The walk on the beach the next morning, the bouquet of flowers and gentle kisses and soft praises had made up for the flop of a wedding night.

  Rosie hadn’t given her family much thought, although from time to time the urge to speak to her mum was overwhelming, especially since she’d become pregnant. But that was a feeling she kept to herself.

  As Ian swung the car onto the road and headed out of town, she thought about their life since she’d left. At first, she’d loved the nomadic lifestyle. She’d seen more of Australia than any of the girls she’d gone to school with. They were all back in their hometown, married or studying to be a nurse or a teacher. Their lives would emulate those of their parents. Never moving out of the same postcode, and perhaps only shifting a few streets away from where they were raised.

  Rose had never wanted to be like that. She’d always yearned to get out of Ballarat, and that was why she’d taken the job at the pub—to earn enough money to be able to leave and start a new life.

  But she had never counted on falling in love with Ian. And she had, quickly and hard. His accent had made her knees tremble as he whispered Irish words she didn’t understand. He’d seemed wild and exciting and free.

  Free. That was what she wanted to be.

  Out of Ballarat and away from her parents’ expectations and tight rules. The ones that would see her end up just like every other young woman in town: working for a year or two until she ended up married and pregnant. Again there was the irony, because that was exactly what Rose now was—married and pregnant.

  She always found a smile on her lips when she remembered what Ian had said to her a couple of days before they left.

  ‘Come with me, sweet Rosie. Life on the road with you will be perfect. We won’t have much, but we’ll have each other, and I want nothing more than you. Come with me, A chroí.’

  Oh, how she loved the Irish endearments. They sounded so mysterious. Just like their travelling life had been meant to be.

  The countryside now opened up to wide red plains, covered in golden swaying grasses and low olive-coloured shrubby trees. They looked prickly to Rose. A heat mirage shimmered at the end of the road and didn’t get any closer as they drove towards it. The air felt as if it were burning as she breathed in, and the sunlight hurt her eyes.

  ‘Rosie?’ Ian was looking at her, concerned. ‘I love you,’ he repeated.

  She touched his arm and tried to smile. ‘I know.’

  Chapter 2

  2020

  A cold wind blew through the Barker police station as the door opened; the missing-persons posters and other pamphlets and brochures flapped under the force of the breeze.

  Joan, the long-standing receptionist, snatched at her paperwork and looked up, her smile turning to a frown.

  Three men dressed in casual clothes but each wearing identical navy blue vests now stood in front of the desk. Dark sunglasses and stern looks were on their faces.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Joan asked, trying to reorganise the documents she’d been working on.

  ‘Looking for the sergeant,’ the one closest to her said, putting his sunglasses on top of his head. He held out a badge.

  Joan looked at it. Jerry Simms.

  ‘I’ll get Dave for you,’ she said, rising and walking casually towards the back of the office. Ducking through the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder and saw all three standing to attention, their hands clasped low in front.

  ‘Dave!’ she whispered, frantically indicating towards the front desk.

  Dave looked up from his computer and over the top of the glasses perched on the end of his nose. Joan’s hands were pointing, and she was making all sorts of hand signals that didn’t make sense. He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘AFP!’ Joan finally managed to get out.

  Both his eyebrows were near his hairline now and he leaned back in his chair for a moment before getting up and walking out into the front area.

  ‘Detective Dave Burrows,’ he said, holding out his hand to the closest man, who merely fixed Dave with a stern look.

  ‘Can we go somewhere private?’ the nameless man asked, glancing at Joan.

  ‘Right through here,’ Dave answered, gesturing in the direction he’d come from.

  The three men walked past him and found chairs in his office. Dave glanced over his shoulder at Joan and gave a wink, before following them through.

  Settled in the office, the ringleader, his face still serious, introduced his team.

  ‘I’m Jerry Simms and these are my colleagues, Allan Taylor and Rob Cooper.’ They all shook hands this time, though the remaining stern-faced men still didn’t speak.

  ‘What can I do for you fellas?’ Dave said. ‘Pretty unusual to get a visit from the AFP out in a quiet country town like Barker.’ He sat and crossed his legs, ready to listen.

  ‘We’re here to intercept a package that will be arriving at the post office today. I’m only letting you know out of courtesy that we’re in town. Although we’d appreciate your assistance in “doing the door” when we go in to take control of the package.’

  Dave was quiet for a moment. ‘Whose door?’

  ‘We won’t tell you anything more until the parcel has been delivered.’

  Frowning, Dave steepled his fingers as he looked at the men. ‘That doesn’t sound very friendly.’

  ‘It’s not a negotiation point. We can’t compromise this transaction—it’s integral to a larger operation,’ Jerry said, as he leaned forward. ‘Detective, we require your assistance. You’ll have to trust us until the procedure is finished.’

  Dave narrowed his eyes and thought about his answer. ‘It’s the local show today. I’d hope that if you’re chasing someone, they won’t be a local. But if they are, it would be better if I knew who the person of interest is. You forget, Jerry, that my partner and I will probably know this person. We’ve both been in this town a long time. We have local knowledge that might assist you.’

  Jerry shook his head before Dave had finished speaking and kept it moving until there was silence. ‘No. No, we’re not forgetting. What you need to understand is we have
n’t worked with either of you before. Both you and Senior Constable Higgins come with high recommendations, and we understand you’re both competent and dedicated to the police force. But you’re also very entrenched in Barker. This is a small town and the walls have ears.’ He looked out towards where Joan sat, then leaned back and shook his head. ‘No go.’

  ‘Have you got a time frame? I’m going to need to talk to Jack. Let him know what’s going on. He’s out taking a statement from a burglary victim.’

  Jerry glanced at his watch. ‘At zero eleven hundred.’

  The office door banged shut as Jack Higgins’ voice filtered through from reception.

  ‘Perfect timing,’ Dave said.

  ‘That bloody wind!’ Jack could be heard declaring to Joan. ‘It’s straight off the snow. Pity it hasn’t got any rain in it. Whose car’s out the front?’

  There was a muffled answer from Joan and silence from Jack. Dave could imagine the mimed conversation as Joan tried to tell Jack who was in the office. Maybe she’d even written him a note saying who it was. He almost grinned as he envisaged the look of surprise on Jack’s face when he worked out the car belonged to Feds.

  ‘That’s Jack now.’ Dave nodded towards the front. ‘I’ll brief him and then introduce you.’

  ‘There’s no need,’ Jerry said. ‘I can do that.’

  Dave ignored him and met Jack as he was about to walk into the offices. ‘Back out here,’ he said quietly, pointing towards the front door. Jack reversed out and Dave saw Joan watching them. He gave her a thumbs up. Everything’s okay.

  Dave and Jack bent their heads together. ‘What the hell is going on?’ Jack asked.

  ‘The plastic police are in there. Need our help with an operation. Got some good grass on someone expecting a package. They want us to help with the door. Don’t know if its drugs or what.’

  ‘The Feds? Whose door? What package?’ The words tumbled out of Jack’s mouth as Dave saw his excitement rise.

  ‘You know as much as I do. They’re not exactly forthcoming with information. Come on, I’ll introduce you. Guessing it’s something to do with the imports who’ve come into town with the ag show. I certainly hope it’s no one local.’

  Jack sobered. ‘Yeah, good point. So, no indication?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Dave stopped and looked at Jack. ‘Where’s Zara today?’ he asked.

  ‘Being ever the good journalist and covering the agricultural show, but you know she’ll sniff this out quick enough. Just the strange car will be enough.’

  ‘Let’s hope she stays on the showgrounds for a while, then.’

  Dave pushed open the door and went back into his office, where the three men were leaning close together, talking in hushed tones.

  ‘This is my partner, Jack Higgins,’ Dave said. He resisted the urge to introduce the three AFP coppers as Huey, Dewey and Louie, dressed as they were in an unofficial uniform of beige chino pants and pale blue shirt, open at the neck. An air of serious confidence, and perhaps arrogance, radiated from each face. Still, Dave had come across that type of attitude before.

  ‘G’day,’ Jack said, shaking hands with them all. ‘Sounds like there’s something interesting in the pipeline.’

  ‘We’ve got intel that a parcel will be delivered today and we want to intercept it,’ Jerry confirmed. ‘Do you have experience on the video camera, Senior Constable?’

  ‘Yeah, I do.’

  ‘Good. We need everything from the moment we knock on the door until we walk out again to be filmed. You can work with Allan here, both filming from different angles. Rob, Dave and I will get the door open. Got that?’

  Dave cast a glance at Jack to see how he was taking the high-handed instructions.

  ‘Sure, whatever you need,’ Jack said, to Dave’s surprise.

  ‘Right, let’s move out, boys,’ Simms said to his men.

  ‘Hold on, don’t you think it’s going to raise some eyebrows, three strange blokes dressed in AFP vests? Let alone a different car parked in a quiet street where all the residents know everything about everyone?’

  Jerry turned to Dave. ‘That’s why we’re taking your vehicles. We’ll be back in an hour and a half.’

  Dave watched them leave and raised his eyebrows at Jack.

  ‘They can be tossers, can’t they? No such thing as flexibility.’

  Jack laughed and rubbed his hands together. ‘But they’ve given us some excitement for the day.’

  ‘Hmm. Like I said before, just so long as it isn’t someone local they’re chasing. I would hate to charge someone who lives here.’

  ‘Depending on who it is,’ Jack replied.

  Dave, Jerry and Rob sat in Dave’s unmarked police car, opposite the post office. There hadn’t been much conversation, which suited Dave. He’d been too busy watching all the locals who weren’t at the show, walking up and down the street, dressed in heavy jackets, trying to keep the biting wind from their bodies. Who were the Feds after? The only way to guess that was to see who was going to the post office, apparently.

  Dave was in the front seat, while the other two were in the back behind the tinted windows. The locals would have to look closely to realise there was anyone else in the vehicle with him.

  He’d seen Mrs Hunter stop and chat with the young girl, Beattie, from the chemist shop, and Jamie Flemming had pulled up in his muddy farm ute, run in to the deli and come out with an iced coffee and sausage roll.

  His wife wouldn’t be too happy if she knew that’s what her husband was up to, Dave thought. Jamie was supposed to be on a diet—diabetes, or so he’d told Dave last time they’d run into each other.

  Everyone Dave had seen was a local, and surely whoever was supposed to have this package—whatever might be inside it—was not a local. He knew his town. Or so he hoped.

  ‘What are we waiting for?’ Dave asked. ‘A delivery or a pick-up?’

  ‘The postal delivery truck,’ Rob said. They were the first words he’d spoken, other than to say hello.

  ‘The truck would have been here at ten o’clock this morning.’ Dave looked at his watch. ‘It’s now nearly twelve-thirty.’ As he said that, he saw Joan walking towards the post office, her keys in hand. She’d be getting the police station mail, and her own, he knew. ‘You’ve missed it.’

  ‘No, we haven’t. There had to be time to sort the mail. She’ll be getting it from her mailbox soon.’ There was a pause. ‘Look.’

  The two men leaned over the seat towards the windscreen, then Jerry muttered, ‘There we go.’

  Dave stared at his receptionist, Joan, as she walked towards the post office, dread filling his stomach. ‘What? Who?’

  ‘She’s coming now.’ Rob pointed, his hand coming from between the seats, aimed at Joan.

  Not able to find any words, Dave sat and waited. No. It couldn’t be Joan they were after.

  ‘Over there, in the green coat. Behind your receptionist.’

  Dave glanced away from Joan and saw Essie Carter in a green coat. The relief was instant but replaced with scepticism. ‘Who? Essie?’

  ‘Estelle Carter of 10 Fifth Street, Barker,’ Rob said. He held the page with Essie’s information on it, over the back seat for Dave to take.

  Reaching out, Dave kept his eyes on Essie. ‘You’re wrong. Essie’s been here in Barker forever; rarely leaves town. She goes to church every Sunday, and volunteers at the hospital and at the Red Cross op shop. Raises her granddaughter on her own. Bloody hell, Essie must be sixty-odd. I can’t imagine she’s doing anything illegal.’

  ‘You don’t think? Look at her. Checking out her surroundings, looking over her shoulder,’ Jerry said. ‘Got all the hallmarks of guilt to me.’

  ‘What’s she supposed to have done?’ Dave said. ‘What’s in the package?’

  The two men didn’t answer.

  Essie had stopped briefly to talk with Joan, then hurried on to the post office. As she stepped into the alcove, where the mailboxes were, she cast a glance over her shoulder. D
ave got his binoculars out and watched as, with shaking hands, Essie tried to insert the key into her box, but dropped the set. Joan was next to her and bent down to pick up the keys before Essie could.

  The elderly lady snatched the keys back and then gave Joan a quick smile. She said something that looked like, ‘Clumsy me.’

  Joan collected the mail and turned to go, putting a hand on Essie’s shoulder before she left. Dave thought he could lip read through the binoculars: ‘See you at church on Sunday,’ and Essie nodded without smiling.

  Dave continued to observe, his eyes fixed through the lenses, his heart sinking. It was like watching a slow-motion train wreck. Essie took another look around, then a deep breath. Dave had to admit Jerry was right. This wasn’t the behaviour of a person without something to hide.

  She inserted the key into the lock and ducked down to look inside. As she withdrew the contents, Dave got a glance of a small yellow padded envelope before she quickly stuffed it in her jacket pocket. Then she turned and walked out onto the street again, head down.

  ‘Guilty as sin,’ Rob said. ‘Hope those boys got her behaviour on video.’

  ‘What do you think, Dave?’

  Dave watched Essie walk with purpose towards the corner. ‘I think there’s more to this than you know.’

  His mind was racing. This was the Essie who had decorated the church with flowers for Dave’s wedding to Kim. The Essie who was so grateful for what Dave had done to save her daughter. The Essie who was always the first to pop into the station with a birthday cake and a smile. What he was seeing here couldn’t be right.

  Except he knew what he’d seen: something was happening and Essie was involved.

  There’s got to be more to this, he thought. I’ve got to find out what.

  Chapter 3

  Dave felt like a traitor as he knocked loudly on the door of 10 Fifth Street.

  There was no answer.