Forest Shadows (7 page)

They walked into an office. Standing alongside another officer and dressed in a grey suit, clutching an overnight bag, was her husband. ‘Hello, Madeline,' he said with a thin smile that could have doubled as a sneer. ‘I didn't know whether you'd bother to come. Conscience get the better of you?'

Madeline smiled nervously as if she didn't know what to say.

Officer Watson saved her from her dilemma. ‘Please, Mrs Quigley, take a seat,' he said, waving to a chair. It was a small office containing a couple of metal filing cabinets, Officer Watson's desk and chair and three other chairs. On the desk was a computer, a phone, a stack of files and several loose sheets of paper. There was one window overlooking the yard, and on the wall above the desk was a photo of the queen. Another officer, who stood at the back of the room next to her husband, wasn't introduced.

‘If you don't mind, there are a few things I'm obliged to ask you,' Officer Watson said to Madeline, sounding very official. ‘I have already consulted your husband on certain matters. I would now like to confirm a few details with you.'

Madeline nodded as she lowered herself onto the chair. She waited. ‘I understand you are currently residing in a private dwelling in Cray Bay, Mrs Quigley,' he began. He picked up a sheet of paper he appeared to be studying. ‘Will Mr Quigley be staying at that address, too?'

‘Yes, I should imagine that would be the case.'

‘Is your husband likely to associate with any known crimi-nals whilst at that residence?'

She almost giggled. Criminals? In Cray Bay? She regained her composure and bird-like she said, ‘No, I shouldn't think so.'

‘Will he have a job?'

She hesitated. ‘I don't know. I-I've had to sell the Cray boat, so I don't know what his plans will be.'

The officer made a note on some official-looking form, and then said, ‘Very well, now this is the last question, Mrs Quigley. Do you have a son whose name is Quenton Quigley and will he be living with you and your husband?'

Yes, I do have a son by that name and he will be staying in our home.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Quigley. You and your husband are free to go but before you do …' He eyed Quigley. ‘Let me remind you that you are on probation and that you are required to report to the nearest police station on a weekly basis. Should you break any of these conditions you will be arrested immediately and locked up for the remainder of your original sentence, which is one year. I hope that is clear.'

Quigley nodded but smiled inwardly. He had no intentions of meeting any of this upstart Watson's demands. He had his own agenda.

‘Good, now follow me, please,' the officer said, standing, then walking to the door. Madeline, her mind a turmoil and Quigley, still clutching his case, fell in behind. They came to the exit gate. After jangling and fiddling with a bunch of keys and without saying a word, Officer Watson opened the gate. With a brief goodbye and a warning to abide by the release rules, Madeline and her husband walked through the gate to the outside world. Then, crossing over to the car park, they silently made their way towards their car, a late model Toyota. Reaching the vehicle, Madeline pressed the remote to unlock the doors and they climbed in.

Quigley broke the silence. ‘Did you bring it?'

‘If you mean the book, yes. It's in my handbag. But why would you want that on the very day of your release? It seems so … so bizarre.'

‘Head for Timber Creek,' Quigley barked, not answering. Deciding not to pursue the subject, Madeline started the car and then drove to the end of the long driveway. Instead of turning right, which would have taken them on their normal route, Quigley snapped, ‘Take the Midland Highway.'

Cringing from his blunt instructions and offensive manner she managed to stammer, ‘B-but that's not the way home. It'd be quicker going through the mountains.'

‘I'm not going home,' he said in the same brusque way, ‘so just do as I say.'

‘You mean you're not coming back to Cray Bay?'

‘That's correct. And I'd appreciate it if there were no more questions. Just drive.'

Madeline's heart leaped. She couldn't believe it. He wasn't coming home.

Trying hard not to smile lest he see her, she gripped the steering wheel with renewed hope and pointed the car towards the long straight road before her.

L
eaving the grey walls and wire netting behind, Quigley sighed with relief. Prison had been a living Hell. The other inmates as well most of the prison officers, were well below his elite standards. Uncouth, the lot of them, certainly well below his superior status.

It had one redeeming feature though; he'd made a deal with Hector Grimshaw. He remembered broaching the subject with Hector one afternoon in the prison exercise yard.

‘I have an idea that you and your sister might like to hear.'

‘Evelyn's in Hutchinson, the women's lockup. You know that,' Hector replied in his usual surly manner.

Quigley flicked an imaginary speck of dirt from the lapel of his shirt; then lowering his voice, he said, ‘I suggest we leave her out of it for now. If you are au fait with the idea I'm about to relate to you, then we'll contact her in due course.'

‘What're you saying? What's with the
ofay
business? Talk English, will ya!'

Quigley glanced around. There was a group of inmates a short distance away sitting on some stone steps, talking and laughing among themselves. Other prisoners, watched by several officers, were either standing or walking around in groups. He grabbed Hector's sleeve and led him to a far corner of the yard near the chain-wire fence. Keeping his voice low, he said, ‘I have, in my care, a document that will lead its owner to a small fortune.' Seeing Hector's look of disdain, he quickly added, ‘And before you ask, I'm of the opinion that the document is absolutely genuine.'

‘Where is it then? Show me.'

‘As I've said, it's in my care, not actually on my person. However, it can easily be obtained.'

Hector spat on the ground, barely missing Quigley's shoes. ‘Humph. Where is it then, this so-called answer to our prayers that can be so
easily obtained
?'

Quigley took his time answering. ‘It's a clue, a puzzle if you like, that shows the way to a hidden treasure.'

Hector laughed. ‘So, you reckon you've got a treasure map? Ha! Pull the other one, why don't you!' He spat once again and then turned to walk away.

Quigley grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. ‘Listen to me! I can understand your skepticism, but believe me, all I've told you is the truth. What I have is genuine!' He pushed his face close to Hector's. ‘You're to be released tomorrow and I'll be free of this place shortly after and when that happens, I propose we meet to discuss this matter further … at your sister's and your home in Timber Creek. She'll be out of jail by then. So will I. Think about it, Hector; you have nothing to lose.'

‘You're talkin' rubbish, Quigley, but I suppose it wouldn't hurt.'

‘Good, I'll pay you and your sister a visit immediately after my release.'

‘Yeah, and you'd better bring that treasure map with you.'

‘Oh, I shall, Hector. You can be certain of that.'

Hector watched as Quigley crossed the prison yard, head in the air like a Grand Duke. ‘What an idiot,' he said under his breath before spitting on the ground for the third time that morning.

F
inally settled in and refreshed after their boat journey, Snook, Jars and Quigley stood on the track outside the shack under the canopy of the forest, waiting for Reg to lock up. Jars looked up. She couldn't see the sky, hidden by overhanging trees, but she knew what the airy smell of dampness meant. ‘It might rain later,' she remarked to no one in particular.

‘Let's hope not,' Reg said, as he joined the group.

‘Where are we goin'?' Snook asked.

‘Left. If we follow the track skirting the river. That'll take us deeper into the forest. From memory, there are a few sidetracks leading off this one; we could try going up one of them. You know, have a look around. Get our bearings so to speak. What do you say? Good idea?'

‘I don't want to go too far,' Quenton said. ‘My legs are still aching from before.'

Jars saw Snook roll his eyes. She also saw him bite his lip. She smiled to herself. Snook was trying his best to cope with Quenton. Good on him, she said to herself, at the same time wondering how long his patience would last. Quenton's whining really was exasperating.

They made their way along the track in single file, dodging the occasional puddle and fallen tree branch. Birds continued to issue their warnings, and every now and then, to their left and right, the grass and ferns rustled.

‘Lizards,' Jars commented to Snook, pointing into the bush.

‘Yeah, or snakes.'

‘What? What did you say?' Quenton asked running to see what they were talking about. ‘Did you say snakes?'

‘Don't worry about it,' Snook said, ‘just watch you don't step on one.'

A half-hour later they came to a river. ‘It's blocking our path,' Snook said, disappointment showing in his face.

‘Looks like the end of the line,' Reg said. ‘We must have missed those other offshoots I was talking about. ‘We might as well head back. It's close to lunchtime anyway.'

At that moment, Jars noticed something to her left; some of the ferns had been broken and several fungi had been knocked from one or two dead logs. She bent over, looking closer. Yes, it was another track, barely visible. ‘I wonder where that goes?' she said pointing.

Snook peered into the tangle of ferns. ‘Where? Whatcha lookin' at?'

‘There,' Jars said, pointing to the ground. ‘The vegetation has been disturbed, the soil, too. Not by a wild animal though, by something more human I'd say.'

Snook bent over to look. ‘I can't see a thing. Have you got x-ray vision or what?'

‘No, but I'll tell you something that's more than a little strange.'

‘What's that?'

Jars, eyes squeezed into slits as she bent over to examine the ground more closely. ‘It's the impressions on the ground. I've never seen anything like it.'

‘What? Howdya mean?'

‘They're webbed.'

Reg wandered over; then he bent and parted the ferns that had grown over the path's opening. He saw the marks. ‘Platypus have webbed feet,' he said. ‘It might have been one of them.'

‘No, I don't think so,' Jars was quick to say. ‘These were made by something much heavier. The impressions are too deep.'

Reg looked thoughtful; then, as though coming to a decision, he said. ‘Anyway, it looks reasonably clear up ahead. We might as well soldier on.' With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he said, ‘We might even find out what the mysterious web-footed creature is.'

‘No way,' Quenton objected. ‘Whatever it is might be dangerous. I say we go back. Anyway, I'm hungry.'

‘Don't be stupid, Quigley,' Snook said, trying not to think of the webbed footprints. ‘What's to be scared of? It's just another way through the forest. And if you're hungry, why don't you suck on one of those lollies you've been hiding from us?'

Looking a little guilty because he had been sneaking one of his boiled lollies from the stash in his pocket every now and then, he hurriedly changed the subject. ‘What are those things on those dead logs, all those orange and white lumps? They look poisonous.' The logs were, in fact, fallen branches that had piled next to one another at the base of the trees and the lumps were various forms of fungi.

Snook, trying not to laugh, shook his head. ‘C'mon, Jars, let's go take a look up the track, but watch out for Quenton's scary toadstools on those bits of kindling.'

‘Laugh if you like. I only hope you know what you're doing,' Quenton mumbled as he brought up the rear. ‘There could be anything up ahead but that's not all we need to worry about. Everything's starting to look the same. We could easily get lost.'

‘There's no chance of that happenin',' Snook called over his shoulder. ‘Jars is with us and she never gets lost. Not in the bush anyway.' He looked to Reg for confirmation. ‘That's right, eh, Reg?'

Reg grinned, nodding. Snook wasn't exaggerating.

Jars wasn't listening. Something was out there. Ahead of them and slightly to their right. It was two blurred figures appearing to dash from behind one tree trunk to another. They were indistinct, hard to describe. She'd had the briefest of glimpses but there had been something, a flash of movement. 'Did you see that?' she asked, pointing.

The others stopped and followed her line of sight. ‘See what?' Snook asked.

‘Out there. There were two of them. One second they were there and then they vanished.'

Snook looked at his cousin. ‘Two of what – wild animals?'

‘No, what I saw was different. These were more upright, shadowy, sort of ghostly.'

‘Wh-what?' Quenton, who looked as though he really was feeling the strain of the walk, stammered. ‘G-ghosts? Wh-where?' He caught up with Jars and then stood on his toes to see over her shoulder. ‘I-I can't see anything. Y-you're just messing with us … aren't you?'

‘No, I definitely saw something.'

Shadow ran over to Jars' side, whimpering. ‘You saw them too, didn't you, boy?' she said, ruffling his ears. ‘And like me you can't figure out what it was.'

‘C'mon. Let's keep goin',' Snook urged. ‘We might find out what Jars' ghosts really were.'

‘I w-want to go back to the shack. I don't want to find out anything.' Quenton bent over, hands on his knees as though out of breath.

Jars frowned when she saw the state he was in. He'd clearly had enough of the bush and its surprises for one day. She turned to Reg. ‘Maybe Quenton's right. Maybe we should go back.'