Darkening Skies Read Online Free PDF

station wore a plain whiteshirt and dark trousers, but the weapon on his hip marked him as police even before he approached and introduced himself.
    ‘Jennifer Barrett? I’m Detective Sergeant Steve Fraser.’ He gave her a firm handshake and a cop’s assessing look. ‘How’s Jim doing?’
    Jim
– not
your uncle
or
Mr Barrett
or something similarly formal. Small towns, rural communities – she hoped he didn’t only know Jim because of his youngest son’s arrest and conviction. ‘He’s still unconscious. They’re taking him to radiology for scans now.’
    ‘Good. Can you spare a few minutes to tell me what happened?’
    ‘Yes.’ Anything had to be better than just sitting and waiting.
    He ran a quick eye over the others in the emergency department – the kid with the broken arm and his father, the dizzy elderly lady and her daughter – and indicated the exit.
    ‘There’s a garden outside where it’s quiet. Let’s talk there.’
    Close to the solstice, it wasn’t yet dark, the light tinged with gold. Long shadows stretched across the grassed area between hospital buildings. The sweet scent of honeysuckle hovered in the air. Detective Fraser chose one of the outdoor tables, and although she would have placed him in his mid-thirties, with a toned and fit-looking body, he eased down on to the bench seat with a suggestion of weariness in his movements.
    ‘So, Ms Barrett, I presume you’re
the
Jennifer Barrett? International award-winning journalist?’
    She inclined her head. ‘Yes.’
    She didn’t ask how he knew. Not many people recognised her outside theframe of a TV screen, but Dungirri was a small town and some of the older folk probably still proudly claimed her as one of their own.
    ‘Jim’s spoken of you,’ Fraser said. ‘And sometimes I have time to watch the news. I guess you’re here because of Mark’s announcement?’
    ‘I am. I have questions I want answered.’
    An almost-grin cracked the hard lines of his face. ‘You and me both,’ he said dryly. ‘So, take me through what happened today. What time did you arrive at Marrayin?’
    He didn’t make notes but he listened attentively while she recounted the events in order, facts only, clear and precise. A detective who referred to Mark by his first name might be a useful contact, so she would give him the information he needed now, freely and fully.
    ‘You said you saw the intruder?’ He interrupted her to clarify. ‘Can you describe him?’
    ‘I only saw a silhouette, blurred through the textured glass in the window. I had the impression of a man in a light-coloured top and darker trousers, but I can’t give you more detail than that.’
    ‘How long after you saw him did you enter the house?’
    ‘Maybe three or four minutes. I went around the back to see if he or anyone else was there.’
    When she described finding Jim, barely conscious, and dragging him away from the fire, the panic she’d suppressed at the time rose again and threatened her steadiness.
    ‘Take your time,’ the detective said, and she regained control by concentrating on him, on observing his body language andresponses to assess how he interpreted what she told him. Usually she asked the questions; she knew the techniques, the tricks, the ways to draw a subject into saying what they didn’t want to say.
    Steve Fraser was cool and confident, and although he listened carefully he didn’t necessarily believe her. He listened to find the holes in her story.
    ‘You seem pretty familiar with the place,’ he said, when she told him about remembering the fire extinguisher in the kitchen and using it to slow the fire.
    He might be on first-name terms with some of the locals now, but he couldn’t know all the history. ‘When I was a teenager, my uncle worked on the property and we lived in one of the cottages. Paula and I were good friends with Mark. We used to spend a lot of time in the homestead.’
    ‘The three of you were friends? But you didn’t go