By the time the first reporter had arrived for the advertised time, young Harry was already pedalling hard to return to the office and develop the piece of history now contained within his camera. As Steph and I were asking another young reporter what was happening, young Harry was standing open-mouthed in his darkroom, holding the developed photograph in his hand. What made it even more special was that it was the first time that young Harry had used colour film. He had spent the extra money on the film only the day before, paying four times more than the normal black and white option.
He showed the photo to his editor, the man nearly falling off his chair. The photo was sold and resold, copies being sent across the world. The St. Petersburg Times in Florida, the first newspaper to use a colour photo in its pages earlier that year, offered the editor $10 000 for exclusive rights to use the photo. Harry’s editor counter-offered them exclusivity for the colour part only, offering the black and white version to everybody else. The paper accepted and by the end of the week, young Harry Bowden was riding a shiny brand-spanking new Harley Davidson to his appointments. He had also been paid a $1500 bonus by the editor, a pretty poor sum considering the editor had managed to amass a total of just under $65 big ones from the sale of the photo alone, but you couldn’t have wiped the smile off the lad’s face. The kid had smashed one out of the park.
16.
Steph and I were sitting on the log fence as the reporters continued their anger-fuelled tirade. They had begun chanting at one stage, one older man standing atop the steps that led to the front gate yelling and screaming for the governor to meet them. Thomas never made an appearance. There was a single guard standing on top of the wall, his rifle held up, cradled into his shoulder. We watched them yelling for Thomas, yelling for a statement, yelling for Lightman to be brought back.
We sat in silence, Steph smoking. There were no words needed for how we felt. He had gotten away with it. In some crazy way, the Daylesford Devil had beaten the system. He had help of course, but in the end, he had walked from the prison a free man.
The only way I can describe how I felt at that moment was that I was numb. I felt numb all over. My ribs hurt, my arm throbbed, my head felt heavy, but it was in my gut that I felt that heaviness, that low empty feeling of defeat.
“We have to get him, Steph. We have to speak to the Chief.” She looked at me, her head nodding slowly as she butted her cigarette out on the log.
A car started just in front of us and I saw that the crowd was finally dispersing. Several other cars also fired up and began to leave the prison car park. We waited until they were all gone from the steps, had all walked back to their cars and were heading back to wherever they had come from. We stood as we watched the last of them leave, following slowly behind his brothers. I was about to ask Steph if we should call for a taxi when a very strong reflection caught my eye. It was the sun bouncing off the windscreen of one of the remaining cars. There were about a dozen or so and with all the other cars that had filled this lot a few moments before, hadn’t noticed the one parked almost out of sight along the far edge of the park. It was a black Mercedes, and I knew instantly what I wanted to do next. I tapped Steph’s shoulder, pointing at the car and I saw her face grow dim. She nodded, understanding what I meant to do.
Chapter 11: Secrets and Lies
1.
“Where’s the Doc?” Steph asked the guard as he opened the smaller door that led into the prison. There were two guards standing on top of the inner wall, neither of them interested in us.
“He’s in the med unit,” he said, pointing at the only building that remained from the old Hancock farm, its tin roof glaring in the morning sunshine. Its thick bluestone walls looked ominous as we approached it, its small windows almost beckoning to us as we climbed the steps and walked through the door.
There was very little activity as we walked down the hallway, muffled voices coming from several of the cells that lined the corridor. At the end of the hall was the main medical unit, several beds set up like a normal hospital ward. Two of the six beds were occupied, a single guard sitting in one corner reading a book. A nurse was sitting behind a desk and looked at us as we walked in.
“Dr. Levinson?” Steph asked him and he pointed back down the corridor.
“Last door on the right,” he said, looking back at the folder he was flicking through. Steph and I turned and left the room, making our way back down the corridor. When we reached the last door, we realized that it was the door we had been looking through when we watched Levinson have lunch with Lightman. I opened the door, expecting to find the doctor in the room but it sat empty. I also remembered how Lightman had disappeared into an adjoining room when the Doc had invited us in. We entered the room completely and closed the door behind us. It stood exactly like it had previously. I looked at the door that was set into the other wall and walked toward it. As I reached for the doorhandle, a slow low thudding came
