Forest Shadows Read online

  Snook explained about their school project and how they wanted to look at any minerals he had that were native to the area.

  Mr Donald, if that was his name, looked up. ‘Sorry, all of my stones have somehow disappeared. Taken by someone. It’s the strangest thing. Whoever it was took all of my crystals but not the other more valuable items, like my precious stones, rings, watches. It’s most peculiar.’

  ‘Stolen?’ Snook blurted, a look of astonishment spreading across his face. ‘Not you too!’

  ‘Yes,’ the man started to explain, not understanding Snook’s surprised look. ‘They were stolen all right. Snatched from right under my nose.’

  Jars knew what Snook was thinking. The robbery at Mr Pearson’s and this one were identical. She waved an arm towards the empty glass cases where the crystals once were. ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘This morning and I was present in the shop the whole time.’

  ‘Did you see who did it?’ Jars asked.

  ‘I didn’t see a thing. Nothing. It’s almost as though they were taken by someone invisible. I simply can’t fathom it out,’ he said, shaking his head.

  Jars noticed that his voice was beginning to shake, too. It was time to leave. Thanking the shopkeeper for his time, Jars touched Snook on the arm. ‘Let’s go,’ she said out of the corner of her mouth. ‘I’ve just realised something.’ Heading for the exit, she whispered, ‘Another robbery by invisible thieves, the same as Mr Pearson’s! And I don’t think it’s a coincidence!’

  ‘I don’t either,’ Snook was quick to agree. ‘I wonder if there have been any more places robbed.’

  ‘Yes, I wonder. And why just take the crystals and not the other valuables?’

  ‘Dunno. All I know is that it’s confusing, nearly as mind blowin’ as that brainteaser Quigley found … about the hidden treasure.’

  Puzzled, they stepped outside and rejoined Quenton and Shadow, then waited for Reg, who it seemed, was still shopping.

  Chapter Seventeen

  * * *

  Macquarie Harbour, known for its choppy waters and fluky winds, had nevertheless remained kind to them as The Shandora made its way towards their destination, the Wild Rivers National Park, a mixed eucalypt forest reaching from northern mountains to a southern, narrow stretch of water known as Long Bay. Seldom visited by anyone other than the occasional government official such as Reg, it was known for its abundance of native animals – pygmy possums, quolls, Tasmanian devils, potoroos, bandicoots, currawongs, rosellas, goshawks all of which happily existed, largely undisturbed.

  They passed the popular Teepookana Landing to their left and an hour later came to an old, dilapidated jetty, a relic from the area’s convict past.

  Quenton had survived the short trip. No seasickness. The pills that Snook’s dad had bought, and the unusually smooth waters of Long Bay, had helped. ‘This is it; we’re here,’ Jim said as they pulled alongside the jetty.

  Arnie reached over the rails and gripped the sides of the landing to keep the boat from drifting, allowing Reg and the kids to jump onto the old jetty. ‘Geez, it’s not what you’d call safe,’ Snook commented straightaway, feeling the wooden boards sway and creak beneath his feet. Shadow leaped after them, not in the least concerned about the rickety, creaky structure.

  Assuring them that he and Arnie would be back about midday Monday, Jim steered the boat clear and headed back towards Strahan, Hell’s Gates and the open sea.

  Reg and the three kids didn’t waste time. As soon as they’d said their goodbyes, they set off, each carrying a sleeping bag. Reg also carried the box of groceries he’d purchased earlier. Shadow had already raced ahead; there were new smells and sounds to find, new things to see. He was in doggy Heaven.

  Walking along the narrow track, taking in the fresh, rich scent of the damp greenness surrounding them, Jars wondered where the birds were. She could hear their cries, shrill and piercing, that seemed to stab through the cover of the trees but she couldn’t see them. It was as if they were sending out an invisible warning – Look out, humans are coming.

  With Shadow still out in front, they ventured on, the forest growing darker, more complex with each step. The trees: myrtles, leatherwoods, dogwoods, blackwoods, all looked taller as they stretched upwards towards a hidden sun. Green lichen grew on the base of their trunks, and living in a permanent, dappled shade, different species of ferns grew – small ferns that looked like fish skeletons, larger ones that resembled leather straps, and every now and then there were tree ferns, as tall as a man.

  After a short walk they came to a shack, which stood alone in a cleared area next to the trees. ‘This is it,’ Reg said, walking up to its doorway. ‘Simple but passable.’ He placed the groceries on the ground and then pointed towards an opening in the trees. ‘Got its own river, too.’

  ‘Yuck,’ Quenton said, looking down a small incline that led to the narrow, fast-flowing stream. ‘Look at the water. It’s filthy. It looks like tea!’

  Unlocking, then pushing the door open, Reg laughed. ‘No, Quenton, that brown tinge you see is made by tannin. The button grass plains east of here cause that. The water’s pure enough.’ Still chuckling, he waved his arm, telling them to come inside.

  They filed through the doorway into the single-room shack. A brown wooden table and four chairs stood in the middle of the room. Bunk beds lined two of the walls. What looked like a supply cupboard stood against one wall, and set slightly back from the far wall was a woodheater complete with flue. A single window gave them a view of the path they had just come along as well as a section of the river.

  ‘Let’s get organised,’ Reg said. ‘Chuck your sleeping bag on whatever bed you want; then we’ll get busy.’

  Snook and Jars were sent to collect some kindling and logs from an outside woodpile for the fire while Reg stowed the food supplies in the cupboard. Quenton’s job was to fetch a bucket of water from the river.

  ‘Whatcha want us to do now, Reg?’ Snook asked when they’d done all that.

  ‘A cup of tea sounds like a good idea. Then we could go out, have a look around before lunch.’ He checked his watch. It was just after eleven o’clock.

  Snook, who had been sitting at the table, pushed his chair back and stood. ‘Yeah, let’s go explorin’. See what’s out there.’

  ‘There’s plenty of time,’ Reg said, smiling at his high spirits. ‘We’ll go as soon as we’ve had a short rest and that hot drink. In the meantime, look in the cupboard for some cups. I’ll put the kettle on.’

  Quenton, who’d been lying on his bunk, the one next to the window, raised his body to a half-sitting position. ‘Can we have a long rest instead of a short one? That walk in here nearly killed me. I’m pooped. Completely bushed.’

  Jars and Snook, eyebrows raised, glanced at each other. The walk hadn’t been that long. More of a stroll really. They both sighed. If Quenton kept the bellyaching up it was going to be a long three days.

  Chapter Eighteen

  * * *

  Reg and the kids were sipping tea and chatting just as Quenton’s mother drew into the Risdon Prison car park. Madeline Quigley glanced at her watch. Its digital face told her it was 11.30am. She was early.

  She rubbed the back of her neck and moved her head from side to side. She’d left early that morning from Cray Bay then driven over the one-lane Lake Highway, a mountainous, twisting road. The four-hour drive had taken its toll. Shrugging off the aches in her body, she climbed out of the car to examine her surroundings. The main prison gate, a stark grey structure, stood 50 metres or so from where she had parked, and circling a series of plain-looking buildings, was a high, chain-wire fence. The penitentiary, once called the Pink Palace, was a more sombre colour now – grey, like the gate.

  Clutching her handbag, she climbed out of the car and waited, her eyes focused on the prison gate where he would soon be walking through.

  It was a moment she had dreaded, a time she had hoped would never come. Now that it had, a raw, elect
ric fear flowed through her body like a wave, a wave that had been building from the moment she found out he was being released. Her hands trembled and butterflies danced in her stomach. She took a deep breath. Calm down, she told herself; it’ll be all right.

  She shivered, whether from her growing dread or a sudden coolness in the air, she wasn’t sure. Casting her eyes to the sky, she saw that the weather was about to change. Dark clouds were gathering in the west and the air smelled fresh. Wrapping her arms around herself for warmth, she continued to stare at the gate … waiting.

  Twelve months he had been locked up, a year when she had been free from his bullying, a year of freedom. She had become a different person. She knew that. No longer the mousy, stay-at-home hermit, she had done things, like joining the school committee and the Country Women’s Association. She’d gone on shopping sprees and she’d mixed with the other women in their homes and in the street. No longer having to live in constant dread of his biting tongue or cruel ways, she had learned to smile again.

  But all that was ending. He would be released … in a matter of minutes now. She bit her lip and shivered, whether from the chill in the air or her nervous fear, she still didn’t know.

  Chapter Nineteen

  * * *

  The prison gates opened and a man dressed in a dark blue uniform, walked through to the outside. Like many prison officers, keys dangled at his side. He stood, hands on hips, looking left and right as though searching. His eyes rested on the lady in the distance, who was standing next to a blue Ford sedan clutching a handbag. He signalled for her to come forward.

  Her steps hesitant, Madeline walked towards him. She drew level.

  ‘Mrs Quigley?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good morning, I’m Officer Watson. Follow me please.’

  They passed through the gate and across a paved courtyard leading to a group of buildings. ‘This is our administration block,’ he explained as he ushered her up some steps. He pushed a door open. ‘We go in here.’

  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.

  Chapter Twenty

  * * *

  Leaving 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.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  * * *

  Finally 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.