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Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. Acknowledgements
  59. About the author
  60. Copyright

But come back they did, into focus slowly and filtered through everything else charging around his head. There they were: Arthur, the old, portly accountant forcing himself to trek through the outback for weeks. The mother – Sylvia. The proud, well-heeled woman who had eventually crumbled under the pressure. And their youngest son with the long, straggly hair and the name that was as lost in Chandler’s mind as their eldest child had been in the bush. The boy as Chandler had always thought of him. They were all there, images implanted deep in his memory despite having tried to blank them out. The entire episode in there waiting for the memories to crawl once again to the surface.

Chandler might misremember what had happened, but he would never forget it.

46

2002

The morning radio communication from base urged Chandler and Mitch to ramp up their efforts to persuade the family to stop the search. Twenty-five days had gone by with nothing to show for it. The opinion from up top was that Martin had disappeared into thin air and in all likelihood was dead – though under no circumstances were they to put it to the family that way.

Mitch was in full agreement with this decision, his face and arms scorched from the sun, his feet blistered, and ankles bruised from numerous collisions with exposed tree stumps and rocks. He took the opportunity to complain for the umpteenth time that he was out here walking himself into a fucking crisp in search of a person he didn’t know and no longer cared about. If he ever had in the first place.

After that came the morning ritual: a group prayer, which Chandler had now become drawn into for the old man’s sake, then payment, the unkempt mercenaries huddled around Arthur, their withered old paymaster, almost slobbering as the cash emerged from his inside pocket.

Mitch nudged Chandler while easing the boots over his prominent blisters. ‘You gonna let him keep getting fleeced with no hope of finding the guy?’

Mitch was probing for a response. Chandler knew it – but gave in anyway. ‘You don’t get it, Mitch; they have hope. They’ll always have hope.’

His colleague’s reply was sharp. ‘Hope – but no chance.’

‘You wouldn’t give up if it was one of your family.’

‘None of my family are stupid or suicidal enough to get themselves lost out here.’

‘It might have been an accident,’ said Chandler, though he didn’t believe it himself.