The Stalk Club
By Neil Cossins and Lloyd Williams
Text copyright © 2012 Lloyd Williams and Neil Cossins
All rights reserved
Chapter 1
10 June 1997
The mist gathered on the quiet Clyde River, curling and twisting in gentle eddies on the breeze. It moved up the bank at a low point and billowed across the land, an invasion of fog that would remain until conquered by the sun later in the day. A battered old Bedford tow truck gently backed down the slope toward the river’s edge, its burbling V8 engine the only man-made sound interrupting the dawn cacophony of lonely frog and bird calls.
The tow truck driver was old and tired but had dragged himself away from his warm bed and come down to the river nonetheless. He had always found it hard to say no to a job. With engine still running he tugged a lever at the rear of the truck, reversing its winch and playing out the twenty millimetre diameter cable that was tipped by two large battered steel hooks. When he gauged that he had enough length coiled around his still thick arm he passed it over to a diver in full wetsuit with a single tank strapped to his back.
The diver, a local tourist instructor who occasionally moonlighted as a recovery diver for the police, positioned his face mask and took the coil beneath the steamy water, its weight dragging him down. His ripples quickly faded, his bubbles the only telltale sign of his sub-surface movements to those who watched from the bank. A couple of minutes later he returned to the surface and gave a wave to the tow truck driver who stood plain-faced by his truck with arms crossed. He threw the lever forward and the winch whined into life and started to take up the slack. When the cable stiffened, the tow truck, despite weighing nearly four tonnes, lurched backwards from the strain and would have been dragged into the river but for the large wooden wedges that had been placed under the twin rear wheels and spiked into the ground with steel pegs to hold them fast. The tow truck driver had done this sort of work before.
Very slowly the winch and the truck started to win the battle of inertia and began to wind in its heavy weight. A car eventually broke the surface of the smooth water and mist and sent a small bow wave towards the bank before it. As it came up onto the bank, water poured from the door sills and an open rear window. Two occupants with white skin, bulging eyes and contorted faces could be seen still occupying the front seats.
A young girl wrapped in a blanket watched on silently, her face an impassive mask. Her forehead had been bandaged, but a small spot of blood seeped through undeterred. The ambulance paramedics tried to shield her from the sight with their bodies but she pushed them aside with hidden strength, her gaze fixed on the car.
Holiday makers from the nearby campground came out of their tents and Winnebagos to see what had awakened them at such an ungodly hour and stayed to watch, morbidly transfixed by the gruesome scene playing out before them. It would be something newsworthy to share with their relatives and friends upon returning to their mundane lives.
Constable Fred Carey had been the first to arrive at the scene at the beckoning of the campground manager. Initially Carey hadn’t believed that there was a car in the river because apart from the quiet word of a traumatised young girl there were no obvious signs of an accident having taken place. It wasn’t until he noticed the set of tyre marks leaving the road and heading towards the river that he began to piece together what had happened.
Batemans Bay Police Station senior officer, Senior Sergeant John Soward arrived at the scene at about six- thirty a.m., looking and feeling every bit of his fifty-seven years. Constable Carey quickly briefed him. He explained that he had been working on an alcohol breath testing operation five kilometres down the highway for most of the night when he’d received the call for assistance at approximately two-thirty a.m..
“Did you get many on the breathalyser last night?” asked Soward. He was a large country copper with a proud silver mane of hair swept back from his forehead and a lined brown face which contrasted with his keen blue eyes.
“Yeah we got a few. Big night for a Thursday.”
“Not surprising, seeing it’s a long weekend. Plenty of people knocking off early and hitting the sauce. Let’s have a look at the car then.”
Soward made a quick inspection of the inside of the car and its two occupants. He noted the deep cuts and abrasions on the heads that seemed consistent with a car accident. Their faces had been leached white by the cold water and the river creatures had already begun their recycling assault on the bodies. Some continued unabashedly with their feast despite their new found audience.
As he chatted with Constable Carey about the accident, Senior Sergeant Soward noticed the rear passenger side window was wound down and glanced at the slender teenage girl still receiving treatment in the back of the ambulance.
“Why is she still here?” asked Soward.
“Paramedics only got here about thirty minutes ago. They’ve had a busy night apparently.”
Soward made his way towards the girl in the ambulance, silently cursing the ogling campers who stood transfixed, men with arms crossed, women with their hands over their mouths as they whispered to each other. They weren’t locals and they didn’t have the sense to mind their own business. He waited beside the paramedics with his notebook in hand until they gave him a nod and stepped back. They knew him well enough to know he was a family man with his own kids. It would be a gentle inquisition. Soward looked down at the girl. He seemed to dwarf her. He correctly guessed she was about fifteen years old, but small and petite for her age. Her face, which was probably attractive under normal circumstances, was marked by shock and sadness and involuntary shivers racked her body beneath her bandages and a silver thermal blanket.
“Hi honey. My name is John. What’s your name?”
“Kylie. Kylie Faulkner.” she said in a barely audible croaky whisper.
“Kylie, I know you’ve been through a lot but I just want to ask you a few questions if it’s alright.” She looked toward him and tried to focus on his face but the image refused to sharpen. She blinked repeatedly until she could see him more clearly.
“Kylie, can you tell me what happened?”
She opened her mouth but it took a few seconds before the words arrived.
“We...we were coming down to the coast for a break, school holidays. It was late. Dad wanted to avoid the Friday traffic before the long weekend.” She stopped and Soward waited a little before prompting her.
“What happened?”
She tried to focus but the memories wouldn’t come. She grimaced as if trying to force out the pictures in her mind but they only came in pieces, shattered glimpses.
“We were driving. Then there were lights, really bright lights. We couldn’t see. They were right in front of us. We thought we were going to crash. Dad had to swerve to miss them and…”
Kylie grimaced as if in pain. “That’s all I remember.” Tears flooded her eyes and she buried her head in her hands and quietly cried, her body shaking. Soward put an arm around her as if she was his own daughter.
“You’re doin’ real good honey. You’re being real brave. Can you remember anything about the other car?”
“All I could see were lights,” she replied in between sobs. “Lots of lights. It was big, maybe it was a dark colour. I don’t know.”
“Did you see the driver?”
She continued crying and shook her head. Soward decided to give up for the time being. She’d had enough, more than enough. He hoped she would remember more when he visited her later at the hospital.
Her description of events made sense to Soward. Constable Carey had pointed out the two sets of tyre marks to him upon his arrival. He walked up to the road for another look, noticing the arrival of another squad car. The skid marks from girl’s car started in the left hand lane, travelling east toward the coast, and then veered onto the gravel shoulder of the road. Soward surmised that once the tyres hit the shoulder the car would have lost
