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“I don’t know. Things like, did I know if Karri had any enemies. Anyone who might hold a grudge against her. I thought this was an accident. I thought she got washed off her ATV.” Sally’s dark eyes were troubled. The petite woman had stopped making any pretense at eating and pushed her plate away. Her glossy, black hair was still up in its neat bun, as always, but there were deep worry lines etched around her eyes.
“They asked me the same thing?” Daisy said. But it’d taken her a while to process the question because she’d been so freaked out that the cop would recognize her. At first her answers had all been robotic and strictly calculated. She was also busy pretending she’d never met the girl before. Her rote reply was that she’d only been on the station less than a day, and she’d never met the dead woman before. She forced herself to look the senior constable in the eye as she said this. And it’d worked. Well, at least she thought it had.
But as she went over the interview in her head afterwards, his probing questions had become surprising, as well as unsettling.
She was now fairly confident that the senior constable hadn’t recognized her. Because surely, if she was showing up as a wanted person on their system, he would’ve arrested her? Right? She’d gone over and over his reaction to her during the interview. He’d remained calm, brisk—but not uncaring—and recorded all her answers on a pad of notepaper, while also recording her responses. Not a flicker of awareness that she was anyone else than who she said she was passed over his face. Not an ounce of suspicion. So, he was either superb at hiding his reactions, or he genuinely didn’t know who she was.
Both she and River had altered their appearances as much as they were able. He’d dyed his normally blonde hair, jet black. Which’d been a shock to Daisy the first time he came out of the bathroom with his new look. People commented that River’s looks were an unusual combination for an indigenous person, his light-colored eyes, blonde hair and dark brown skin. But it wasn’t as uncommon as people thought. Because their culture had interbred since the days of the convicts, there were often throwbacks, a mixture of DNA. There was no way to change River’s eye color, but he’d taken to wearing sunglasses wherever he went as well as toning down his normal attire of gangster-rap baggy pants slung low around his hips, oversize hoodies and lots of bling around his neck. Even his best mates would hardly recognize him now, in his conservative attire of jeans and button up shirts, which went along with his new consultant persona.
She’d gone almost the complete opposite to River. Dyed her normally dark auburn hair a honey blonde, always keeping it tied up in a ponytail or braid, instead of left loose to flow over her shoulders. River told her she should cut it off, but try as she might, she couldn’t force herself to shear off her long locks. And she’d toned down her clothing, going for shorts and casual tops, instead of the elegant dresses and corporate suits she often wore to impress at the legal firm where she was interning. Her face was also devoid of any makeup now. Half of her missed the theatrics of applying makeup; the way it made her look. But the other half didn’t miss it all, especially not in this tropical heat and humidity.
But a good cop should be able to recognize her facial features, nonetheless. Shouldn’t they? So, she was fairly optimistic she’d gotten away with it.
Her fears hadn’t been completely laid to rest, but at least they’d subsided to a low rumble in the base of her gut, instead of a wild animal trying to claw its way out of her throat. The most likely scenario was that the West Australian cops hadn’t alerted the Queensland cops, because they had no reason to suspect that River had fled to the other side of the country. Or perhaps, even if they had listed River on the Queensland wanted lists, these ones up in the top end didn’t have the time to study their lists carefully, never dreaming anyone would hide up here in the middle of absolutely nowhere.
Besides, she was hoping the cops never even found out that River was here. She’d failed to mention her work colleague, Ryan, and King had failed to ask her if there was anyone else staying with her at the outstation. Daisy knew she was skating on thin ice, and might get herself into hot water if—when—the police found out about him. But she hadn’t lied to King; not really. It was a lie of omission. The cops might eventually find out about River, but maybe by then, they might be long gone. She’d been tempted to ask Dale not to mention her colleague to the senior constable, but knew that would raise far too many suspicions if she did. All she could do was hope that no one else thought to mention him in their interviews. She’d soon know if they had, because King would surely question her again if he found out she’d been withholding information.
After King had finished questioning her, he led her back into the main dining area, beckoning Bindi over to take her statement next. As Daisy had watched him follow the other woman back into the room they were using for interviews, she noticed Skylar track his movements from across the large space. While Skylar’s face remained pale and drawn, her eyes told a different story. She watched King like a hawk, and Daisy caught the flash of longing in her stare. That’d been interesting.
Once she thought about it, Senior Constable King was very good-looking. She hadn’t taken much notice during the interview, but now she could look at him without that fear of discovery, she could understand Skylar’s attraction. He had the most amazing blue eyes she thought she’d ever seen on a man. So bright blue they rivaled the skies above Stormcloud on a clear day. Short curls of straw-blonde hair covered his head. But even with his serious police face on, she could feel her fingers itching to touch those blonde locks, to see if they were real. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought he belonged on a white sandy beach somewhere, a surfer God brought to life right here in the Stormcloud dining room.
“They asked me that, as well,” Skylar added, pulling Daisy out of her musings. Skylar fixed her gaze on her mother. “So, come on, spill it. There’s something else going on here that you’re not telling us.”
Daniella looked at Steve before she answered. It was only after he nodded his agreement that she laid her knife and fork aside and carefully wiped her mouth.
Daniella was an attractive lady—Daisy didn’t want to add the qualifier for her age, because that would be stereotyping the woman, and Daisy hated stereotypes—always dressed neatly in jeans and a long-sleeved, checkered shirt, with her bobbed, brown hair tucked neatly behind her ears to keep it out of the way. Daniella had a way of looking at you, with dark blue eyes, that seemed to evaluate everything in a single sweep of her gaze. She was obviously highly organized, clear-headed, strong, and determined. Driven might be one word that summed her up nicely. Daisy definitely wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of Dale’s mother. But she almost seemed at a loss for words tonight. Which Daisy figured might not happen very often.
“If I tell you, this doesn’t get repeated. Not to anyone. Not to the guests and not to the neighbors. And especially not to anyone over at Koongarra.” Daniella speared Daisy with her sharp gaze at her last words.
Daisy nodded her promise. She wasn’t likely to tell anyone, because this story was getting more and more complicated every day. So much so, it was hard for Daisy to keep it all straight in her head. What she was and wasn’t supposed to tell people. She was completely onboard with Daniella’s wish that the fewer people who knew about the details, the better.
Everyone had stopped pretending to eat and were all watching Daniella with mixed versions of interest.
“Karri had a large wound on her head—what did King call it? A contusion?” She looked to Steve for confirmation. “When Wazza first pulled her out of the water, he thought she must’ve hit her head on a rock, or a large, submerged log. But Steve wasn’t so sure. He thought it could’ve been from something smaller, like the end of a metal pole, or a hammer.”
Sally Tsun gasped and covered her mouth. Skylar and Bindi followed suit.
“And after the senior sergeant examined her, he confirmed it looked more like Karri had been struck with some kind of object or weapon.”
Which meant only one thing. Karri had possibly been murdered. This brought on a whole other level of complication, especially to Daisy’s life. The last thing she needed was to be involved in another murder investigation. Daisy held in a moan of distress. This was terrible in so many ways.
She slid a sideways glance at Dale. He didn’t look surprised by the revelation. So that was why Dale had been avoiding her questions earlier. He must’ve already have known about the blow to the girl’s head.
“Can they really tell the difference?” Sally asked, but her voice was barely above a whisper, so that Daisy had to lean across the table to hear.
Daniella inclined her head. “King said they’d know more after an autopsy.”
“They’re going to autopsy her?” It was Bindi’s turn to sound horrified. “Her family won’t allow that.”
Bindi’s outburst surprised Daisy, but she was correct. Traditional Aboriginal laws didn’t allow for autopsies. Some Indigenous people believed that if a body was interfered with, then the spirit would be prevented from moving forward. Although, that rarely stopped the police procedure, if they thought it was warranted. A lump formed in Daisy’s throat as she thought about this young woman’s family. The Kuku community would already be involved in the Sorry Business, traditional ceremonies and practices conducted to mourn the passing of a loved one. This news would rip them apart and cause even more heartbreak.
“Hang on,” Wazza’s voice rang out around the table. “I want to get this clear in my head. Are we saying that Karri was killed? By someone on this station? Why would anyone do that? No one here is a murderer.” He stood up, pursing his lips in confusion. The hat that was never far from his side was swept onto the floor, unnoticed, as he spread his hands on the table and leaned forward. “You can’t seriously be telling me that there’s a murderer running loose on the station, somewhere.” Wazza grunted, like the notion was completely preposterous.
No one answered, and he sat down heavily, retrieving his hat from the floor.
Daisy felt sorry for the guy. He didn’t want to believe it was true. But Daisy knew it could very well be. She’d seen it happen. Had witnessed it first-hand helping her brother. People weren’t always what they seemed. One of these people sitting around this table right now could be hiding a deep, dark secret. Hell, she was probably the worst offender at keeping secrets. If anyone found out about her duplicity, she had no doubt they’d see her in a completely different light.
“That’s an utterly ridiculous notion,” Daniella said, primly taking up her knife and fork once more. “I trust everyone on our staff one-hundred percent.” Daniella cast her cool gaze around the table. “But you can see why I don’t want the guests hearing this information. It’ll panic them even more. They’re already distraught enough about a death on the station. If this gets out…” Daniella didn’t need to finish her sentence, Daisy knew enough to realize they’d start leaving in droves. And not come back. The luxury resort’s reputation would be tarnished.
Death was one thing.
Murder was a whole other ball game.
