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Lexi leaned back in her chair and stared at the audio waves on the screen. Colours marked the various frequencies in orderly hills and troughs. Trent hadn’t mentioned his conversation with Father Donald to her or to Grant Herbert. But he’d expected a visit from the priest, which didn’t happen. The police had traced the call and would need a warrant to obtain a recording from the prison service. But when they did, it would sound like a book request asked of a regular visitor. Could they link any of the puzzle pieces into a discernible landscape?
Father Donald’s passenger didn’t speak, making identification impossible. Shade padded into the kitchen barefoot. Garima’s shorts hung off him like curtains, but he almost filled the tee shirt. Water dripped from the ends of his curls and created grey tracks in the white fabric. He acknowledged Lexi’s raised eyebrow with a nod. She experienced a moment of uncertainty when he pulled out the chair to her right and sat beside her. His thigh touched hers, increasing the sense of an electrical current passing between them. The hairs on his legs prickled against her soft skin. Nahla raised her bristly face and squinted at the newcomer. She yawned, displaying each of her needle-sharp teeth. His upper lip twitched in a smile. Another confirmation they’d met more than once.
Against the backdrop of an impossible two way conversation, Lexi continued her work. She activated the recording just after a long stretch, where only engine noise occupied the bass frequency levels of the spectrum. The decibels jumped, and she held her breath.
‘Oh, look, it’s Robin,’ Father Donald said. His voice held the strain of an internal dilemma. His conversation with Trent had disturbed him.
‘Do you have a moment for a chat?’ Another male voice. Robin. Lachlan’s chauffeur. Lexi felt gratitude to the priest for naming him. In eight years, she’d never heard the driver speak.
‘Hello. I thought I recognised your vehicle behind us. Are you not chauffeuring today? Oh, you are.’
‘Yeah, I have an appointment with the shrink woman. But I need to see you and it’s important.’ Robin coughed, as though embarrassed. The recording registered a sharp frequency spike. Lexi frowned as she considered the tiny marker. Not embarrassment perhaps, but stress.
‘Well, I’m just dropping this wonderful lady at the back door, but I can make myself free later, if that suits you? I’m nipping to grab a book from a friend, but I can meet you in the café across the road from the church afterwards. Unfortunately, there’s a meeting late this afternoon which I absolutely can’t miss. It’s made me a little tight on time. That suits you. Fantastic. See you there.’
Lexi clamped her teeth over her lower lip. Father Donald had identified his passenger as female. He’d assumed she also knew Lachlan’s chauffeur by name. Garima’s vehicle would contain her fingerprints, but a shudder ran through Lexi at the next voice on the recording.
‘He seemed a little agitated, didn’t he?’ The woman’s clipped tones created a buzz through the laptop speakers.
‘He did rather. Misses his wife terribly. Father Allen is such a wonderful friend to him.’
Her throat cleared. ‘I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation, but I once knew a Trent. It’s such an unusual name, isn’t it? His brother worked for my Hilly’s brokerage on the investment side of the business. Bright young man. Keith’s father and Hilly went to school together. Great friends. Sam begged Hilly to help his son. He didn’t want two of his boys cooking savories for undesirables.’ She snorted, as though finding the notion intolerable. Lexi winced at her tactlessness. She obviously didn’t know Father Donald part owned the Christian camp at Rangiriri then. Or that his guests were children and teenagers in difficulty.
‘Ah yes?’ Father Donald sounded only half interested. Irritation burgeoned in his casual reply. Did it irk him that she’d insulted the camp or that she’d strained to catch the identity of his caller? And she must have intentionally listened because the bug had missed the other half of the conversation. This marked the first lapse in the priest’s nicety since Lexi began monitoring the backing track of Father Donald’s crazy, unappreciated Monday. It meant his passenger had stalked the conversation, right from the introduction, with avid concentration. The priest hadn’t named his caller, but perhaps Trent had used the natural salutation and identified himself. Or she’d heard the prison system asking the priest to accept his call. The woman had the hearing of an owl. In that moment, Lexi doubted she’d missed the fight between her and Rojas in the church bathroom.
‘Yes, I had to let him go after Hilly died. He made a terrible business decision. Lost the company a great deal of capital.’ Darlene Barrymore cleared her throat as though wounded by the memory.
‘Oh?’ Father Donald released the word in a rush, as though the tidbit had revived his interest. ‘It’s such a shame when a mentee lets you down. But our dear Christ wishes us to forgive and keep trying.’
‘Yes,’ Darlene mused. ‘I haven’t seen Keith for years. Do give my regards to Trent. Tell him I haven’t forgotten the Barnard boys.’
Father Donald glossed over the feigned greeting, but the frequency wave indicated a rise in his pitch. ‘Am I okay to drop you outside the back door here? Father Garima is meeting with the parish council chair person in the nave.’
Muttered sounds of thanks and of Mrs Barrymore exiting the vehicle. Then the engine started again.
