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Fandom: the Dry (Aaron Falk series) – Jane Harper

Relationship: Ellie Deacon & Aaron Falk

Summary: Aaron Falk paid his last visit to the cemetery. One last loose end to tie before he left Kiewarra, for good. 

Falk stayed in Kiewarra a bit longer than he expected. Mal Deacon and Grant Dow were in police custody, but it would take a while for prosecutors to formally press the charges. As a former suspect and a current witness, Falk did not get involved further in the investigation. He presented the evidence, gave his written testimony, and was told to wait.

It suited him fine. He was with financial, not homicide, after all. 

You can wait in Melbourne. Back in your cool, vacant apartment. So what are your excuses now? Ellie sit beside him. Why are you still here? She still had the same intense look just like twenty years ago.

Someone needed to clean up Karen and Billy’s graves. He could not leave Barb to do it. Barb wanted to come, but he said that the least he could do, and she really should take care of Charlotte and the farm. Care for the living, not for the dead. 

Barb hugged him. Falk felt her tears soaked through his shirt. “I can’t thank you enough,” She said, “For what you did for Karen and Billy, and for Luke. Take our car.”

So that gives you a reason to bring a shovel and a cart along. Ellie smiled. Calculated as always, Aaron.

Falk shot a glance at the rear mirror. The passenger seat was empty. Yet, Ellie was still seated beside him, just around the corner of his eyes. It all started after he found Ellie’s backpack in the rock tree. Under the fading twilight, her raven hair was dark as a midnight pond.

“It’s over.” He said to her or himself, “Ellie. It’s over.” He tried not to think of the empty river, how it used to be ample and angry, how it used to carry her down. He would have thought that he finally went mad after what Kiewarra did to him, but he just felt calm. After what had happened, she was almost a welcome sight. 

He had wanted to tell her how much had happened in the past twenty years. It would be an extensive monologue, like the ones he used to make in front of his mother’s grave. He did not say anything at all in the end. Ellie would understand. Life did not spare any of them. Especially her. 

Are you fit to drive? Ellie asked him. 

“Fit enough.” It was not entirely true. The burn still hurt, but less so these days. He could grip the steering wheel steady enough. Sometimes it became so itchy he could not fall back to sleep. 

He parked the car and took out the shovel and the cart from the boot. Ellie still stood beside them, watching him. 

Are you sure about this? She walked alongside him. Her body cast no shadow in the fading twilight. You don’t have to.

I know. Falk thought, I did not have to do a lot of things. See where that got me. He did not voice his thoughts, just pushed the cart along the cemetery road. The first stop was Hadlers’ graves. As he promised to Barb. The sweet rotten scent of bouquets started to get unbearable in the heat. He put on an extra pair of gloves and tossed the tributes into the cart. For a fleeting moment, he felt a bit sorry for those stuffed toys, but in the end, he tossed them into the cart anyway. 

Heartless. Ellie mocked him, not unkind. 

“Unless you want some of them.” He tossed another one in. It was strange, considering what happened in the past twenty years, to talk to your long-dead friend like you two were teenagers again. 

I like that one. Eille said. At least save something for the kid.

Falk hesitated, then decided to spare the last teddy bear. At least it looked clean enough until the next rainfall. He felt a bitrelieved to see a few more offerings on Luke’s grave. News traveled fast in this place. Still, he threw away all the rotten flowers. He dumped the cart to the nearest trash bin. And back to Hadlers’ graves, started again. When the sun disappeared, he emptied his cart one last time and pushed the cart further into the cemetery. 

He had come to the place before and brought a flashlight, but it still took a good while to find Ellie’s grave. It did not change much since his last abruptly ended visit. He paused for a moment, then took away that bunch of dead stalks from her headstone. No one showed up to stop him. It was all very quiet.

You did not even think of bringing me flowers? Ellie leaned on a headstone nearby, still looking at him. The gum trees rustled over their heads. 

“I didn’t think people would look at that kindly then.” He threw the dead stalks into the cart, took out that pair of gloves, and put them on again. “They would think that I came to gloat.” 

Yeah, I suppose so. Ellie said curtly, her arms crossed. Put your feet on your victim’s grave. That sounds wicked. Evil.That’s what Mal Deacon did, though.

They had never been this close when Ellie was alive, Falk thought. Not even when Ellie kissed him in that classroom.Back then, Ellie had already become a mystery to him. Then her death enshrouded her and whatever happened between them. Until he found her diary in the rock tree. Her previous life suddenly became an open book to him. 

She did not exactly talk much when she first showed up. She just sat on one of the plastic waiting room chairs in the police station, waiting for him to finish his statement. Before Falk opened his mouth, she had already disappeared. The receptionist told him that no one came along when he was in there. 

But Falk knew. It was Ellie. It was the same look she had when she had worked in that crappy milk bar. Forlorn. Numb. Depressed. And since Falk knew better now. With a hope buried inside. It was that look that gave him the idea. 

But you are different, Aaron Falk, you are not here for the small evil. Ellie grinned. You are here for something more unforgivable.

“You are welcome.” Falk looked around again, making sure no one was watching. Then he took the shovel and started to dig. 

It took Falk much longer than he expected to find what he was looking for. Being a city boy for too long, he had already forgotten that digging was a hard labour. The fading skylight did not help either. Ellie’s plot was so little. He had to be extra careful not to disturb her neighbours. A few more inches, beneath the roots of the yellow grass, the ground was still hard and dusty. Here, the dry did not even let go of the dead. 

Falk shook away the sentiment. He had to be careful now. What he was doing probably would not be looked at kindly either, but again, his name, along with his car, had been ruined enough here. A few dents would not make much difference. 

His shovel hit something hard. A dull glint of metal under the flashlight. He poked the shovel around the glint, then kept digging. Finally, a faded tea tin revealed itself under the bottom of the pit. Falk blinked away his sweat, bent down to brush away the dirt, and picked up the tea tin. He pried it open by a small crack, just enough to see the content. It was an urn. 

Not exactly six feet under – it could have been harder, city boy. Ellie’s voice had a tinge of quiver now.

Falk knew that she was right. Mal Deacon had decided to have her cremated because it was much cheaper, or, as he could not help himself to suspect, to destroy whatever evidence pathologists might have overlooked. He wiped the tin can, then carefully wrapped it in one of his clean shirts. Either way, this somehow made things easier for him. 

What would you do then? Ellie whispered. What if there was a full-size coffin and me down there?

I don’t know. Falk thought. Probably the court would be the first to dig you up. Or not. In the case of drowning, old skeletons usually yield very little. He tried to not think if there were any overlooked fractures. 

Falk started to shove the soil back to the place. He probably should have brought some tributes. Not that Ellie needed it, but to distract people from the disturbed grave. 

“What are you doing here?” A woman’s voice. Falk froze, blinded by the sudden light. 

“What are you bloody doing here?!” 

Falk blinked a few more times. He recognized that voice. Gretchen. He did not hear her approaching at all. 

“Gretchen, I can explain -” He could not.

“Explain what? I should have called the caretaker right away – You psycho – how dare you come to her resting place after you lied  – ”

Falk took a deep breath and decided to tell the truth. “Gretchen. It hasn’t gone official yet, but I found out who killed Ellie – they took in Mal Deacon and Grant Dow.”

As if someone just pressed the mute button, Gretchen’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came from it at all.

Reckless. Ellie warned him. Told you it would be a career-ending move.

Falk hesitated for a moment, but then he made up his mind. “Gretchen, what I trying to say is that … the police now have Ellie’s backpack and her diary. She was planning to leave, not to kill herself. She said if Deacon found out, he would kill her.”

And he did. Ellie added, coldly. 

“I still don’t see that has anything to do with you meddling in her grave.” 

Gretchen crossed her arms. Falk noticed that she still clutched her mobile in her hand.

Falk closed his eyes. He swallowed hard. 

You said no more secrets. Ellie whispered to him in the darkness. She also deserves to know after all these years. 

One last shovelful, then Falk patted the ground hard. Gretchen carefully laid her bouquet on the clean plot. Falk wondered if that bouquet had been meant for Luke. He kept the thought to himself. 

On their way to the carpark, they passed Hadlers’ grave again. Falk noticed that Luke’s grave now had a fresh bouquet laid, the same as the one she put at Ellie’s empty grave. He looked around, Ellie’s grave had disappeared among others, nowhere to be seen from where he stood. A new thought struck him. 

“Are you leaving soon?” Gretchen asked him.

“I am leaving tonight. Will return Barb’s car first. Then I’ll leave.”

“With that stinking car?” 

“A replacement. Just delivered two days ago.”Falk shook his head, then added. “I hope no one has found it so far.”

Gretchen nodded. “I still think you are insane. What you are about to do.”

Falk ignored her. “Did you come to the cemetery often? At Ellie’s place?”

Gretchen gave him a long and hard look. Her expression was unreadable. Then she pulled out a cigarette. A brief flame lit up her face. She took a long drag. 

“Not that often. But yes. ” She reluctantly admitted. “I used to pity her. And maybe a bit jealous. Not just because Luke loved her. Not after all these years. Because I had thought she got out of it so easily. Not nice, but out.”

“I used to envy you, too.” Gretchen looked at him, ruefully. “Because Luke covered for you. I used to believe that it was you who killed Ellie. And he still covered for you. I just don’t understand – ”

“Gretchen – “ He wanted to say something, but Gretchen stopped him with a wave of her hand. 

“I think maybe,” She said, “Maybe because you and Ellie are made from the same material. The misfits. The ones who got away.” She took another long drag, puffing out more smoke. 

“You really shouldn’t smoke out there.” Falk finally said. 

Gretchen gave him a dirty look. “Whitlam was not the only person who wanted to burn down this place for good.” But she snuffed the half-smoked cigarette anyway. “Like I said, I think Luke had loved you both.” She was looking at the wrapped tin, and then at Falk. 

“I would not tell a soul about what you did tonight.” She nodded to him, “But you really should go. Goodbye, Falk.”

With that, she climbed into her car and drove away. 

The one who got away, huh? Ellie appeared next to him. Said the sole survivor to the dead. 

It did not take long for him to get back on the road. Falk collected a few things in his room above the bar. If the barman saw the thing he put on the passenger seat, he did not say anything about it.

“It’s okay if you want to stay overnight. I presume it was a long drive back home.” Instead, he said to Falk over the counter. “You paid for it, anyway.”

Falk shook his head. The barman nodded.

Falk stood outside again. The stars were bright over his head. He walked to his new car and saw Ellie was already there,waiting for him. The same look. Always the same look. He started the engine. 

Kiewarra was gradually disappearing in the rear mirror. It was a peaceful drive. No white ute followed him this time. Yet he still found himself checking the rear mirrors more frequently than he would like. 

Relax. I don’t think that anyone cares. Ellie said. Gretchen will keep her promise. And I doubt that Deacon or Dow would have any time near the grave for a while.

How do you know? Falk thought. I was not exactly discreet back in the cemetery. Maybe someone else also saw. 

What would you do then? 

Falk thought for a moment.

I don’t know. He admitted. I probably would do the same. You are already here. 

Ellie turned to the window. The evening breeze blew in. Where are you taking me to? Her whisper almost drowns in the wuthering wind. 

He had run through the whole grave-robbing scenario in his head quite a few times since he first saw Ellie at the police station. None of them went as smoothly as it turned out. If the police were informed of what he did, it would be quite easy to catch him at his next stop. 

If only they paid attention. Most people do not. 

He was not exactly planning to drive overnight to Melbourne. Three towns away from Kiewarra, he drove into a cheap motel. 

“Falk.” He said and showed the yawning receptionist his driver’s license.  He felt Ellie was grinning behind his back. 

Seriously, Falk? He heard her chortled. He did not turn back to see her face, instead, open the door with his key, and then walked into the shabby motel room. 

He put the urn on the nightstand, and suddenly felt very, very tired. He did not turn the light on and sat in the darkness for a long time. 

“I am sorry, Ellie.” Finally, he heard himself. “I am so sorry.”

No response. The only sound was the low humming of the AC.

What am I doing? He thought. Who am I fooling? She was long dead. Then he saw her silhouette, just visible enough to tell her from the darker night. 

Why are you sorry, Aaron? Ellie watched him back in the shadow. Out of all people? You did me nothing wrong. 

Because I feel like someone should have apologized to you, he thought. Someone should have been held accountable.

A long silence. 

Is this why you did this to me?

Falk closed his eyes so he would not have to see the urn. 

Why do you care? Why do you decide to show up all of a sudden? He wanted to throw it back to her. You were dead. You decided to leave and failed and drowned and burned and reduced to this sorry state. Why do you care?

I am here because you care. Ellie said to him, calmly. Also because you are angry. Not just angry at people back at Kiewarra. You are angry at me. Are you?

He pursed his lips and sat in the dark. 

I suppose that you have a right to. Twenty years’ shame just for my whim. 

“No.” Falk forced himself to speak. “No. It was not that.” Especially not that. When he read about that piece of truth about the note in her diary, he felt a shameful pang of happiness in the fleeing moment. 

Then what is it, Aaron?

“I am angry at myself,” Falk said aloud. “If only I knew.”

I would not be here if it was just about yourself, Falk. Hell is a very personal space. You are still very angry at me. Falk did not even need to open his eyes to feel Eille’s gaze on him. Intense and sobering as always. Like a pair of dark ponds. 

What’s the harm? He thought to himself. I might as well drown. So he relented. 

“I was angry because … ” He swallowed, hard. “Because even if you did kill yourself, the consequence would be just the same.“

Ellie waited, patiently. Now she had all the time in the world. 

You left all of us behind. He could not bring himself to say it. How could he? Yet the notion was burning, searing, all the same. If you had told Eric or me, maybe … 

What would you do, then? Ellie said. Not in an accusing tone, just sad. 

“After what happened to you, we ended up in Melbourne, me and Eric.” Falk heard himself saying. “It could have been three of us.”

He did not believe it. And yet how bad he wished this was how it turned out. Instead, he just sat in a cheap motel room, talking to himself and the invented ghost. 

He woke up before the sun came out. No police car in the parking lot. No one was knocking on his door yet. What a paranoid he was. Some residues of his anxious dreams still lingered inside him, but he could not remember anything coherent enough. 

Last night felt like the end of the world. Yet, when the morning came, his mind was in a different place. Ellie was nowhere to be seen. The tea can still sat on the nightstand. He washed himself, changed into a clean shirt, took Ellie’s urn with him, and back to the road. It was still dark out there, but he was surprisingly calm and steady. 

Being an unimaginative cop sometimes was very helpful. You just got to do what was in front of you. Not to back out. 

What an ugly city. 

It was just past six when he first crossed the Yarra River. Ellie was in his passenger seat again. Her arms crossed, eyes on the front window. 

“Still much better than Kiewerra.” He had been longing for his cool apartment. Yet he felt odd to let Ellie see it. His job, his apartment, was just another life where someone was trapped and had to go back in. Some of us got away. None of us truly survived. 

Ellie shrugged. 

Falk was planning to drive to the southern beach area but soon changed his mind. It again felt wrong: Ellie despised the crowd. So he stopped to buy coffee and sandwiches at a local cafe. He drove west to cross the Yarra River again, then south to Point Gellibrand. It had a beautiful lookout to watch the sunset. Falk went there a few times with Rachel, but he was heading a bit further down the south, where the rockpools lie. 

He took the urn and his breakfast and walked down the trail. It did not take him too long to reach the rocky shore. What they saw here was not the real sea – Port Phillip was just a large shallow bay – but Falk would like to imagine this was where the sea began. 

He sat on a dry rock, finished his breakfast before seagulls noticed, and watched the waves surging and receding, leaving blue pools between the rocks. He opened the urn. 

It is nice down here.

Ellie stood in front of him. The water gently brushed through her bare feet. Her face was open like never before. Likewhat she would have looked like if she had managed to get out from here, had craved a life of her own. He knew she was capable. He just could not fathom what kind of life she could have lived.

There is something you cannot fix, Falk. You know better than me. 

He closed his eyes, listening to the gushing tide, then opened them again. Ellie was still there, looking at him, intently.  

The damage is done.

I know. 

Freedom is not something you can give posthumously.

I know. I did this for myself. 

Silence. 

Aaron. It is okay if you do not get through this.

I know. Falk swallowed. I will just live with it. I have experience. 

I suppose you are. Ellie smiled at him, sadly. 

You were not so bad at it, either. 

 Said the pot to the kettle. Ellie stepped a few steps backward and waved. 

Farewell, Falk. It was good to see you again. 

He tipped the urn, and let Ellie go.