Into the Fog Read online

  Into The Fog

  Sandi Wallace

  Contents

  Praise for Sandi Wallace’s Into The Fog

  Also by Sandi Wallace

  Day ONE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  DAY TWO

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Day THREE

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  DAY FOUR

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  DAY FIVE

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Acknowledgments

  Tell Me Why

  Dead Again

  On The Job

  About the Author

  Into the Fog

  First published in Australia 2018 by Taut Press

  Copyright © Sandi Wallace 2018

  * * *

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  * * *

  All rights reserved. Taut Press thanks you for buying an authorised edition of this book. Thank you for complying with copyright laws by not using any part of this book without our prior written permission, including reproducing, storing in a retrieval system, transmitting in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical or by photocopying, recording, scanning or distributing. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  * * *

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of Australia

  http://catalogue.nla.gov.au/

  * * *

  Creator: Wallace, Sandi, author.

  Title: Into the Fog / Sandi Wallace.

  ISBN: 978-0-6481412-3-5 (paperback)

  ISBN: 978-0-6481412-4-2 (mobi)

  ISBN: 978-0-6481412-5-9 (epub)

  * * *

  Subjects: Genre fiction / Small town and rural.

  Mystery and detective / Police procedural.

  International mystery and crime, Australian.

  Georgie Harvey and John Franklin series.

  * * *

  Edited by Ruth Kennedy.

  Cover design by Lana Pecherczyk of Author Zoo.

  Cover image by Sandi Wallace.

  Internal design by Ebony McKenna.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Praise for Sandi Wallace’s Into The Fog

  ‘There is a certain cadence to Wallace’s stories, like a slowly quickening heartbeat leading you into the fog. She captures a sense of place in her rural thrillers, where even the nicest places can harbour evil. A page turner…Into the Fog will wrap around you, releasing you only in its enthralling climax.’

  B. Michael Radburn,

  author of the Taylor Bridges series

  * * *

  ‘Sandi Wallace’s best yet! Into the Fog is engaging, fast-paced, and full of suspense.’

  Karen M. Davis,

  former NSW police detective

  and author of the Lexie Rogers series

  * * *

  ‘If you’ve ever been lost in the Australian bush, you’ll know how bewildering and inescapable it seems. Sandi Wallace has captured the harsh, inhospitable landscape perfectly in this riveting tale of runaway children, sickening human predators and courageous would-be rescuers. Into the Fog is an engrossing third outing in Wallace’s rural crime series featuring gutsy journalist Georgie Harvey and intrepid cop John Franklin – unputdownable!’

  L.J.M. Owen,

  author of the Dr Pimms, Intermillennial Sleuth series

  Also by Sandi Wallace

  Georgie Harvey & John Franklin novels

  Tell Me Why

  Dead Again

  * * *

  Short story collections

  On the Job

  * * *

  Award-winning short stories

  ‘Busted’ (Scarlet Stiletto: The Eighth Cut – 2016)

  ‘Ball and Chain’ (Scarlet Stiletto: The Sixth Cut – 2014)

  ‘Silk Versus Sierra’ (Scarlet Stiletto: The Fifth Cut – 2013)

  * * *

  Non-fiction

  Writing the Dream (contributing author)

  To the children who haven’t made it home and those who miss them.

  Day ONE

  WEDNESDAY 28 SEPTEMBER

  Chapter 1

  HANNAH

  Hannah’s heart beat hard and fast in her chest. She checked the time so often it was driving her crazy, but she couldn’t help it. The back of her hoodie was still wet from before – which was annoying because it reminded her how close she’d been and how lame she was. For forgetting her jacket. For letting him stop her, and ending up back inside the dumb summerhouse.

  She looked at the clock on the wall above Riles and Coops. Not even a minute had passed. She was going to explode. What if it all went wrong? She’d be totally devo, that’s for sure – there might not be another chance.

  She checked the time and took a breath that hiccupped: 4.07pm. It could already be too late.

  On the outskirts of Ballarat, a vibration against Senior Constable John Franklin’s hip signalled a text message. He hooked his mobile and eased it out of his pocket, while his eyes never left the house across the road.

  ‘Bull’ Jenkins would have his balls on a plate if he fucked up the surveillance job, which wouldn’t be a good start to his detective training, especially if he ended up posted here full time after DTS.

  Another tremor through the phone meant he’d received a second message. Just then, the detective beside him pulled out his own mobile and took a call in a low voice. Franklin used the opportunity to check his messages.

  The first was short, typical of his daughter Kat. ‘All gd. L8er. K xx’

  The second was longer, just as typical of Sam Tesorino, the constable under his wing. ‘Kids settled. Weather awful but all going well. Place is posh! Wish you were here – not fair after all our planning. Speak later, Sam.’

  He slid the phone away, relieved that the camp had kicked off well. Still, the acid wash in his stomach marked his disappointment that Tim Lunny, his sergeant at Daylesford, had to step into his place.

  In Mount Da
ndenong, about 200 kilometres from Ballarat, the door of the summerhouse opened, letting in another blast of cold air. Georgie Harvey shrugged deeper into her leather jacket as Kat Franklin and Josh Curtis entered. She watched the response to the teenagers from the four families of younger kids spread around the room. Several visibly sparked up and little Cooper sang out, ‘Josh!’ That was exactly why they’d been included – the teens bridged the gap between the kids and other camp supervisors.

  Josh waved to the boy, while he flicked rainwater from his cropped hair. He turned to fire Kat a grin, and Georgie’s antennae picked up interesting vibes, especially when Kat ducked her chin and Josh rubbed the tattoo trailing his neck.

  Georgie realised that by occupational hazard she’d slipped into journalist mode, standing back to note the conversations, dynamics, body language and other nuances happening around her. Unlike the Camp Silvan instructor, Seb, who hunkered down to talk with two sisters, his manner easy even though the girls stayed subdued. They were lucky to have him too, being over-complement on the supervisor-to-child ratio after the last-minute dropout of three kids.

  Georgie’s mind jumped back to her role on camp. She wasn’t here to research a story. The hope was that she’d help these kids express themselves through words instead of internalising their troubles, though she realised they’d probably rather play outside. Her eyes grew. If the weather didn’t let up, outdoor activities would be off and she’d be up for more than she’d imagined.

  Josh side-tracked her with, ‘Who wants popcorn? It’s ready in the kitchen. Or Twister in the library?’ He leapt aside to let everyone past, landing on the balls of his feet, the physicality of the teenage boxing coach reminding Georgie of a panther.

  Sprinting from the summerhouse to the main building, Sam Tesorino yelled, ‘Who’s going to get there first?’ She and Sarge Lunny led the race but pretended they couldn’t keep up, and soon let most of the group overtake them.

  Sam half-turned when Cooper and Riley circled back. But drizzle blurred her sight. She knew Kat and Josh were to follow at the rear and would look after them, so she continued to jog across the waterlogged lawn as a curtain of fog rolled in.

  The next minutes were bedlam as they all kicked off their shoes and dried themselves with extra-large towels that they dropped in a mound in the laundry before splitting in different directions.

  Sam headed for the kitchen, stepping back as Noah and Tom whizzed around the island bar, giggling. Technically, they weren’t running and the owner of Upalong House, Mr Belfrage, had left with a case and suit bag shortly after they’d arrived, so she grinned.

  What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

  She watched Tom, thinking she’d rarely seen him smiling, let alone gurgling excitedly. The little guy suddenly stopped and gazed at her. Sadness swelled in her chest. He’d managed to let go for a few minutes but shrivelled back into himself in front of her eyes.

  She wanted to tell him I’m not your poor mum. I’m not going to tell you to be quiet or to shy away from your happiness, lost in my grief. It wasn’t her place though. She had to reach him in a different way.

  A burst of high-pitched laughter came from the mezzanine library and broke into Sam’s thoughts. The dramatic voice of the sarge resounded in another direction and she swallowed a wave of nostalgia for Tesorino clan gatherings – people, laughter and food everywhere. Yet in her family there would be at least twenty-five, not the eight kids and six supervisors in their group. Although, anyone who walked through the door here would think there was heaps more than that based on the volume level.

  Sam felt another tug of homesickness before her mind turned to the hush of possible snow in the frigid air outside. Their scheduled trek up the 1000 Steps in the National Park at nearby Upper Ferntree Gully postponed from earlier today seemed just as unlikely for tomorrow.

  So, not an ideal start, but overall Sam thought the camp was going really well.

  The housekeeper, Elke, waddled into the kitchen saying, ‘Dark for this time of day.’

  She was as laconic as her husband and their accents reminded Georgie of a Dutch couple she’d recently interviewed for a fluff piece for Champagne Musings, her regular magazine gig.

  As the woman lowered the blinds at each end of the room, Georgie saw her shiver and clutch her belly.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Elke rotated clumsily but didn’t meet Georgie’s eyes. ‘Yes, thank you. Someone walked over my grave.’

  Georgie hiked her brows while the housekeeper shuffled away. Elke wasn’t as aloof as her husband, but she was definitely strange. Hopefully the woman’s oddness wasn’t a sign that she’d pop out her baby over their five-day camp – judging by her size, she must be due soon.

  A boom of thunder shook the ground. One of the girls squealed and glassware tinkled in the cupboards.

  Tim Lunny whistled in the family room. ‘That was a beauty!’

  Josh said, ‘Reckon a tree came down?’

  No one answered him and a moment later, Nicole commented in a voice too sage for her eleven years, ‘I think storms are louder the closer to the sky you are.’

  Sam said, ‘You could be right.’

  The lights flickered and Seb went ‘Wooooooooooo’ then laughed.

  ‘Can’t see anything out there now,’ Noah yelled. ‘It’s black like the middle of the night, except when lightning comes.’

  ‘Must be bedtime then.’

  Georgie hid a smile, waiting for the kids’ reaction to Sam’s suggestion. It didn’t take long: they yelled over the top of each other.

  ‘It’s only four-thirty!’

  ‘No way! We haven’t had tea yet. I’m starving.’

  ‘It’s too early for tea – have some popcorn.’

  ‘Don’t want popcorn. I want real food.’

  The kids quietened and the housekeeper mumbled, ‘I have started dinner. We will have it when Mr Agterop is home.’

  Rings under the woman’s eyes had darkened since they’d met earlier in the day and the way she cradled her stomach and simply stared at the blind over the kitchen window made Georgie wonder what worried her – besides the fourteen of them lobbing in at short notice.

  Although Franklin maintained a visual with their quarry and listened to his offsider gripe and gossip periodically, he wasn’t really present in Ballarat. He kept thinking about the camp in Mount Dandenong. Whatever they were up to, it’d be more fun than his shift tonight, which boiled down to babysitting.

  Inevitably, his thoughts narrowed in on Georgie. He’d been looking forward to some bonus time together. Now she and everyone else was a few hundred Ks away while he was stuck in Ballarat.

  Can’t have your cake and eat it too.

  He squirmed in the car seat, knowing he wanted just that: promotion to detective while not letting go of his place in the Daylesford station and community, and a life with Georgie. Eventually, something would have to give.

  Boomer glared at him. ‘What’s wrong with you? Worms?’ He laughed too loudly, in keeping with his nickname.

  Franklin hid his blush by tucking his chin into his chest.

  Georgie slunk through the formal living rooms. When she reached what the owner had called the south wing, she released the breath she’d held through the expanse of marble, parquetry and crystal.

  Some people would be impressed by the swankiness, but it sickened her. Only two people lived in this mausoleum – one wasn’t even in the country, while the other had headed off to stay in the CBD about ten minutes after greeting them. Her curiosity about the couple piqued, Georgie searched the house for photos of Patrick and Catherine Belfrage. But there weren’t any.

  The lack of photos was bizarre, but she couldn’t pass judgement on them for that or for not travelling together. Look at her and Franklin: she stayed at his place in Daylesford part of the time and came back to Richmond for the rest, when not away on assignment. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t figure out how it would work any other way.
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  With a dry chuckle, Georgie slipped into the bedroom she shared with Sam and Kat. After she’d pulled on a warmer top, she headed deeper into the mansion. Of the three doors at the far end, only the middle one stood ajar.

  She knuckled the door and said, ‘Hey, you two.’