“I know. I’m honored. Genuinely. I didn’t expect this.”
Rita had looked at Falk across the empty plates, her face a little sad. “You really didn’t, did you? Even after everything.”
“Well, it’s just that you have so many people—”
“That’s true. But we wanted you.” She’d taken his hand, placing it on her stomach. “It’s not like the movies, I’m afraid. And fair warning, it’s more church than I find ideal, personally.”
“Noted. But still up for it.” Under his palm, Falk could sense the future Henry Aaron Raco stirring, and felt a protective surge. “Thanks, Rita. I’ll do my best for you all.”
“We know you will.”
Had he really done his best? Falk wondered now, as thirteen-month-old Henry regarded him with nothing warmer than suspicion. He’d had good intentions. He’d driven out to the Marralee Valley last year for the christening, fully ready to play his part, but then everything had been derailed. When he’d gotten back home to Melbourne, work had been manic, and sometimes he’d blink and find whole months had gone by and he hadn’t once spoken to the Racos.
Okay, he thought, smiling at Henry. Starting now.
Henry slid his dark little eyes away, as though embarrassed on Falk’s behalf.
“Ignore him.” Raco laughed and plonked a sun hat on his child’s head. “Grab a seat.”
Falk pulled up the chair next to Rita, while Eva lolled against the table beside him, fiddling with a glittery hair clip. Eva was big for five, with her mum’s curly hair but her dad’s eyes. She kept stealing glances at Falk, a little overwhelmed by his presence. Her parents had once mentioned that it had been Falk who’d given her the doll that had been her constant companion for the past few years. That, coupled with the fact that she only saw Falk in person on rare occasions, had given him something of a Santa Claus allure.
“Watch the table, sweetheart,” Rita said as Eva leaned in to slip Falk the glittered hair clip and nearly knocked over Rita’s water glass.
“Thanks very much, Eva.” Falk took the clip and moved the glass. Beneath it was the printed flyer Rita had been looking at. Kim Gillespie’s face smiled up from the paper.
The photo had been taken in sunlight, and the woman’s dark brown hair had a sheen to it. She had slightly rounded features that made her appear a little younger than her thirty-nine years, and she looked happy in the photo. Falk wondered when it had been taken.
“He’s been out there for a while,” Rita murmured suddenly, and Falk glanced up in time to see Raco nod.
The pair both had their eyes trained on the vines stretching out below. At first the space appeared empty but, following their gaze, Falk could now see the shape of a man moving along the rows. He was alone and walking at a slow pace. He stopped at a fence post, something unseen catching his attention, then after a long moment continued on.
“How is your brother?” Falk said, and Raco and Rita exchanged a glance.
“Charlie?” Raco rubbed his chin. “Yeah. He’s not bad. Considering.”
Falk nodded. If there was one person likely to attract even more questions than the spouse of a missing person, it had to be the ex-partner. However amicable the parting of ways was said to have been.
Charlie Raco and Kim Gillespie had shared a seventeen-year-old daughter and an on-again, off-again relationship, which had sparked to life with a teenage infatuation, bumped along for two decades, and finally fizzled out for good five years ago. A co-parenting arrangement and division of assets had been mutually agreed without the need for either party to engage a lawyer. Falk knew this, because everyone knew it now. The details of the relationship had been rehashed and picked over at length after last year.
Falk turned back to the vines, but the rows once again appeared empty. He couldn’t see where Charlie Raco had gone. He reached out instead and picked up the flyer from beside Rita’s glass.
“Zara got them made up,” Rita said.
Falk nodded. The seventeen-year-old. He cast his eye over the information. All the important stuff was there. She’d done a good job. “And what’s the plan tonight?”
“The festival’s agreed to do a minute’s silence for the anniversary,” Raco said. “Plus an appeal on the main stage.”
“Appealing for what exactly?” The question came out more bluntly than Falk had intended, and he rephrased. “I mean, are there doubts? I thought after they found her shoe it was pretty much—”
“Not doubts,” Rita said quickly. “But questions, I suppose. About Kim’s state of mind on the night.” She glanced toward the house, and Falk guessed that Kim’s older daughter was inside somewhere. “But we’re trying to manage Zara’s expectations.”
“She’s struggling?” Falk said.
Rita flashed a reassuring smile as her own daughter looked up, and waited until Eva wandered off in search of more gifts for Falk before she spoke again.
“To be fair, it’s not only Zara pushing for this; we’d all like to know. I mean, I still think about it a lot,” she said, and Raco nodded in agreement. “What Kim must have been thinking to leave her baby like that.”
Falk looked down at the caption below the woman’s photo. Kim Gillespie, age thirty-nine. Last seen at the opening night of the Marralee Valley Annual Food and Wine Festival. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium build, 168 cm. Wearing a dark gray jacket, white or cream T-shirt, black jeans or leggings, white sneakers. Falk had never met Kim and as far as he knew had seen her alive only twice—once on a phone screen and once from a distance.
“I reckon the locals have probably said all they can say by now, but the opening night’s always mostly tourists.” Raco took a long pull on his beer. “They’ll probably get maybe a thousand of them tonight. Lot of the same families come every year. So it’ll jog a few memories, at least.” His frown returned. “Like it or not.”
Falk nodded. He’d been involved in all kinds of witness statements over the years, and among the least helpful—worse than those who refused to speak, worse than those who straight-up lied—were the well-meaning bystanders who reckoned they’d seen plenty. It was rarely deliberate, most people simply wanted to help. Falk didn’t blame them; there was something in human nature that compelled people to fill in the gaps. But what they’d seen and what they thought they’d seen were not necessarily one and the same.
Falk looked out to the empty vines again and thought back to his own statement last year. The local cop had been young and his questions a little leading at times. He should have known better, and if they’d been in the same chain of command, Falk would have pulled him up on it.
How did Kim seem?
Falk couldn’t say. He couldn’t even begin to say.
He suspected he probably wouldn’t have remembered anything much about those minutes at all if Kim hadn’t gone missing, but that was life. Insignificant things became significant unexpectedly. He’d tried to pick out only what he could recall for certain.
The time. It had been 8:00 p.m., and he knew that because the children’s fireworks had started. Night had crept in, and he remembered the lights and music had suddenly felt brighter and louder, the way they always did in the dark.