Page 42 of Down the Track
‘Hux! Are you listening to me?’
He looked up at Phaedra but left his finger on the timeline. ‘Sorry. I’m just trying to trace what we know about Dave’s movements. Have I forgotten anything?’
She tilted her head in the direction of a row of filing cabinets. ‘The map’s wedged behind them. We took it down a few weeks ago when we gave the place a paint and haven’t gotten around to putting it back up.’
Hux pulled the big old board out from its hidey-hole. A daddy longlegs skittered off the board as he gave it a tap on the ground to dislodge the dust that had settled then placed it face up on a desk. The map was huge, a relic from a survey job he and Charlie had worked on for the Department of Resources back in the day. He mapped the route from the airfield out to where he assumed Corley Station must be. The flight out had shown how isolated the place was from the east, but the map in front of him showed how isolated it was from pretty much any place else. The odd dashed line, indicating an unsealed road, headed west or north and disappeared into blank map space long before it reached anywhere else.
That was one thing the schoolkid’s article in the newsletter had got right: the man was definitely out past Woop Woop. So what had been Dodgy Dave’s reason for going there, if it hadn’t been to visit a mining lease at the old caravan? Why prevaricate about his destination? To keep the true lease location secret, perhaps.
‘I wonder where I could find out the location of mining leases,’ he muttered, as much to himself as to Phaedra. ‘Where would the closest Department of Resources be? Longreach?’
‘Most of the fossicking around here is specking or noodling for fragments. You know, by tourists wanting to scratch around in the spoil dumps from old workings. There’s a few designated opal fields around where you don’t need a licence—Opalton, Yowah. Every now and then someone finds a spectacular opal. They can be worth a fair bit of money.’
‘I didn’t know you were into opals, Phaedra.’
She tossed her hair a little. ‘I may have found a little boulder opal in my time. Me and the boys don’t mind a day trip out to Opalton every now and then. Nick paid for that dirt bike of his with opal money and Cody’s saving up for an electric guitar.’
‘Dirt bikes and guitars? Aren’t your boys, like, seven?’
Phaedra rolled her eyes. ‘Nick is nine, turning ten, and Cody is eight. Don’t tell me you and your sisters weren’t hooning around Gunn Station on dirt bikes when you were barely out of nappies because I won’t believe you. Now, what was I saying before you interrupted? Oh, yes. It’s a pity the Leggetts aren’t here this time of year, they’d have been able to answer all these questions better than I can. Your serious opal hunter is different. He or she is quite cagey about what they’re doing. They’d want to have their own licence for somewhere no-one could stickybeak, I’d imagine. You can apply for a licence on Crown Land or even on someone’s property, because landholders don’t own anything under the surface, but I’d reckon it’d be harder to get a licence to mine on a property, as the property owner could object.’
‘Sounds like hot and lonely work.’
‘Yeah, but not too dangerous at least. I mean, boulder opal runs close to the surface, so at least people aren’t tunnelling crazy deep on their own. Here—’ Phaedra plucked a brochure from the rack lining the wall near her desk. ‘Have a read of that.’
AGUIDE TOQUEENSLAND’S UNIQUE BOULDER OPAL. Hux wondered if he was wasting his time pursuing a potential link between Dave’s interest in Corley Station and mining. Maybe. But until he knew better, mining was the reason the guy had given for heading out there.
But why that spot, specifically, where apparently there was no mine? No mate with a genset waiting for fuel? And what went wrong so Dodgy Dave ended up missing his lift home?
Unless he’d chartered a flight home with Yindi Creek Choppers with no intention of using it? A red herring, maybe?
TYSON: You only need a red herring if you’re hiding a crime, mate.
Good point. Hux grabbed his whiteboard marker and wrote down the bottom:Did Dave book the return flight with no intention of using it? Did Dave book the return flight to give him a 48-hour window of privacy to do some dastardly deed?
The way he saw it, there were only three possible scenarios: Dave was truly lost and wandering, or lost and injured, and hopefully the police and SES were still searching for him; Dave had met with foul play; or Davewasthe foul play, and he didn’t give a shit that people were looking for him, because he wanted his dodgy deeds done on the down-low.
TYSON: Write that down too, Hux.Clueless Jones: Dodgy Deeds on the Down-Low.It’s a heck of a title.
Hux ignored the grandstanding of his constant companion and scribbled down a few more questions to think about:What else was in the duffel? How did he get to the airfield? Ask the police if they’ve found CCTV of him and will they share an image?
Phaedra came over to stand beside him and inspect the map.
Town names were in dark type: Hughenden, Cloncurry, Julia Creek. A sparse web of thin lines were marked with names like Stoney Creek and Fly Creek where—if a person was lucky—there might be a trickle of running water. Or, if they were unlucky, nothing but bone-parching dry or so much water the flood would take you off your feet and trap you under some weathered old stump.
His eyes found Gunn Station. Impossible not to wonder if people had pored over maps just like this one all those years ago when Jess went missing, thought through the conclusions: lost and alive; lost and injured; a victim of foul play; left the area of her own accord …
Only Jess had taken off in denim shorts and a t-shirt and a brand new pair of boots, with no duffel bag, just a lot of hairspray and the key to the old ute, the wordsCharlie, 7 pmwritten on the back of her hand with texta.
His texta.
He’d been drawing mutant turtles and she’d taken the green one and he’d yelled at her for taking his stuff. His last words to her, in fact, other than the really fateful ones:I don’t need a babysitter so go to your dumb party.
He rubbed his chest over the dull ache that had begun when he was twelve and had never quite settled. He couldn’t do anything about Jess. Hecoulddo something to help Charlie realise that he was in no way to blame for this other person going missing.
‘Oh, shit,’ said Phaedra, out of the blue. ‘Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a lawyer, would you, Hux?’
‘Hmm?’ He’d start his questions at the bakery. The Klumps had been selling him bread and vanilla slices for thirty-plus years and they’d be happy to talk to him. Then maybe—
