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He avoided small talk at the best of times and this, unquestionably, was a million horrific miles from the best of times.
How short was the road from that decision to this moment? The question ached like a bruise.
‘Maybe whoever was here that day didn’t kill the baby because they just didn’t need to kill the baby,’ Falk said finally. ‘Nothing personal about it. Doesn’t matter who
you are, thirteen-month-olds don’t make good witnesses.’
huge river was nothing more than a dusty scar in the land. The empty bed stretched long and barren in either direction, its serpentine curves tracing the path where the water had flowed. The hollow that had been carved over centuries was now a cracked patchwork of rocks and crabgrass. Along the banks, gnarled grey tree roots were exposed like cobwebs.
He stood on shaky legs, his vision blurred as all
around the cockatoos whirled and screamed into the scorching red sky. Alone, in that monstrous wound, Falk put his face in his hands and, just once, screamed himself.
