And here, in secrecy and solitude, a tall forest of marijuana plants reached into the sunlight, whispering in the wind. Dull green like Christmas trees, with the iconic seven-bladed leaves lush and healthy. A mountain stream trickled down and through the dug-out irrigation trenches.
The smell of the plants, the solitude, the sense of purpose and life – usually this place was a sacred escape for Murphy, where all the good things about cannabis seemed epitomised, where it was a symbol of a good life, lazy and under control and with money in the bank.
But not today.
‘Jasmine? Are you here?’
Avoiding the bear traps scattered through it, Murphy ran along a row of plants, looking for any sign of Jasmine, her tent, her footprints. He came to the brink of the gorge and rested his hand against the trunk of a tree, peering over the small cliff, down into the dense gorge filled with foliage and fallen trees.
‘Jasmine?’ he called. ‘Jasmine!’
There was no response but the rustling of the marijuana plants and the slow growth of the Tasmanian bush.
He called for a long time.
His only answer was bird call.
Walking back with Butch, Murphy’s heart was as heavy as his footsteps. When they got home, Murphy stepped in the back door and kicked off his boots. Then he froze – he’d heard a girl’s cough. Someone was in their house.
Murphy motioned to Butch and put a finger to his lips.
‘What now . . .?’
Murphy ignored him and crept up to Jasmine’s bedroom door.
Footsteps creaked on the floorboards inside.
‘Jasmine?’ croaked Murphy, and opened the door.
A terrified shriek answered as a teenage girl leapt off Jasmine’s bed, thin and dark-haired. Jasmine’s photo albums lay open on the bed.
‘Carmen?’ Murphy croaked. He knew her from Jasmine’s class. She’d come over a few times for sleepovers, and was one of Jasmine’s closer friends outside the Fab Four.
The girl swallowed and nodded her head.
‘Why are you here?’ shouted Murphy.
‘A while back . . . Jasmine showed me the spare key,’ whimpered Carmen, quailing before Murphy’s anger.
‘Why are you here?’ Murphy stepped out of the room, gesturing for her to leave, struggling to force his temper back under control. ‘Can you get out of my house, please? You’ll only get me in more trouble.’
‘That’s why I’m here.’
‘No.’ He walked through the dining room, opening the front door wide. ‘You need to leave.’
‘Please, Mr Murphy.’ Carmen followed him but stopped short of the door. ‘I know you didn’t take the girls. I know you’re not what everyone is saying.’
‘I need you to go!’ He didn’t mean to roar the last word and regretted the way it made her squeal and jump back. But he kept his hand on the handle of the open door.
‘You heard him,’ said Butch, leaning against the doorway. He folded his arms and stood taller.
‘No,’ said Carmen shakily. ‘I have something to tell you . . . I-I know who Cierra was sleeping with . . .’
‘Then you need to go tell the police, not me,’ said Murphy. ‘Please, leave before someone sees you here.’
‘The condoms were just . . . just a bit of a joke, I think . . .’
‘Go.’
‘I know you weren’t sleeping with Cierra because she . . . well, because . . . Cierra was sleeping with Miss Ellis!’
There was a moment of silence. Murphy’s hand dropped off the door handle.
Butch slipped where he was leaning against the doorway, swearing loudly.
Murphy’s mouth opened and shut. ‘That . . . doesn’t make any sense. Eliza isn’t . . . she’s not a . . . is she?’
‘Cierra is not straight,’ said Carmen firmly. ‘Cierra and Miss Ellis were . . .’
‘This is bloody perfect,’ said Butch. ‘We need to go down to the station. You’ll tell the detective this, won’t you?’
Carmen nodded quickly. ‘Yeah. Of course.’
‘No,’ said Murphy suddenly.
‘Sorry?’ said Butch.
‘We’re not telling the cops.’
‘Why the fuck not?’ shouted Butch.
‘Eliza couldn’t have taken the girls,’ he said. ‘She had that blow to the back of the head. She couldn’t have done it. And I don’t believe for a second that she’s . . . that she’d —’
‘Sleep with another chick?’ said Butch.
‘Sleep with a student,’ said Murphy. ‘She’s a good person. A good teacher.’
‘That detective needs to know! And it’ll take the heat off you —’
‘Exactly!’ shouted Murphy above Butch’s increasing volume. ‘You’ve seen what they did to me. If this comes out about Eliza, she’ll be lynched in the streets —’
‘So she fucking should,’ shouted Butch. ‘And they’ll leave you alone!’
‘No, Butch . . . This . . . this is my decision to make.’ Murphy leaned forward so his face was level with Carmen. ‘I need you to promise not to tell anyone else.’
‘How the hell is this your decision to make?’ said Butch. ‘This is Carmen’s decision!’
‘But you don’t deserve all this horrible stuff they’re saying!’ said Carmen.
Murphy’s face was unchanged. ‘I’ll go talk to Miss Ellis. But you’re not to tell anyone else. Okay? Promise me.’
Carmen gripped his hands. ‘That’s not all. Madison wanted me to give you this.’
‘Madison sent you over here?’ said Murphy, pulling his hands out of hers, feeling suddenly cold.
‘She wanted you to know about Miss Ellis —’ began Carmen.
‘Madison told you to tell me?’ said Murphy. ‘What else has she said?’
‘Just about Miss Ellis, and that she wanted you to have this.’ Carmen fished a USB drive out of her pocket.
Murphy took the USB drive but held it away from himself like it was another tiger snake.
‘Murph, you need to tell the cops,’ said Butch.
Murphy glanced at the driveway, then at the USB. Anything that little witch says is lies and poison. Whatever is on this USB is just something to help her get her way. I won’t be part of her game – I don’t believe for a second that Eliza slept with Cierra, but I need to go warn her.
He put the USB in his pocket. ‘I’m taking the Hilux and I’m going to speak to Eliza. Carmen, promise me you won’t tell anyone else.’
Carmen shrugged. ‘I guess. Unless Madison tells me to – Cierra’s her sister, after all. But —’
Murphy had already grabbed the Hilux keys off the hook and was walking out the door.
CHAPTER 30
ELIZA
Eliza sat on a stool in Tom and Monica’s kitchen, showered and warm. She had a new red headscarf around her temple and her golden hoops in her ears. She was drinking white wine straight out of the bottle and staring out the bay window, watching the wind in a maple tree.
It had been an hour since she’d returned from the mountains. Monica was at Tom’s mother’s house with Wren. Tom himself was volunteering up at the search around Lake Mackenzie. Sarge the dog was locked in the backyard: she didn’t want him getting in the way when the police came.