The Hidden by Bryan Brown Extract

Drug busts, dead roosters and a predator on the loose- what’s really going on beneath the surface of this seemingly quiet coastal town?

Read a sneak peek of The Hidden by Bryan Brown.

Drugs were a problem. Everywhere. The coast had a drug problem, and in this part of the coast it was Sergeant William Jarrett’s problem. A problem he shared with other cops in other regions.

They shared information, but it was a big problem. No longer a bit of weed being grown out in the bush, but harder stuff. Methylamphetamines, coke and heroin were rife. Easy to score.

Too much money to be made and too many wanting it. Mental health problems, leading to alcohol, leading to drugs, leading to domestic violence. Round and round it went.

The Sergeant had been investigating the death of Lilly Gray for six months. She had been found by her son overdosed in her bed. Tragic. Young. Nobody knew anything. All quiet on the Western Front.

Sergeant William Jarrett took a run out to the beach. Not for a swim.

No, the Sarge was simply observing . . . life. Observing had been good to him. Seen stuff he shouldn’t have seen. Led to arrests. Which was a fairly big part of his life. So today was observance day.

Alright, so observing the female form didn’t hurt. He wasn’t a perv, but he was human. Nothing wrong with that. Late arvo. Special time. The light fading on the water. Time for a coffee. Nice big mug of latte at The Cross.

The Cross was the local haunt and local haunts always revealed. Something. Sometime.

Daisy ran The Cross. For over twenty years it had been run by her father, Matt. But when he retired, so he could surf more, he’d handed the keys to Daisy and Daisy had changed The Cross. She had studied interior design. You could tell.

When Matt ran The Cross, it was basic. Tables, chairs. Peeling walls. No plants or colour. Matt had run it down. Not purposely. Just didn’t pay attention to that side of things. Coffee, toasties and surf talk.

With Daisy, that changed. Local artists were encouraged to hang their wares. Hoping to sell, and some did. A coat of paint did wonders.

In Matt’s time, it had been a morning breakfast and coffee hangout, with lunch on until three in the arvo and then shutters down. But, with Daisy in charge, the shutters stayed up until early evening. Get the tradies in after a swim, cleaning off the dirt and dust.

Then three nights a week—Friday, Saturday and Sunday— dinner was served. Greek or Mexican, depending on how his tummy rumbled. He still ruled in the kitchen.

And music. The area was home to lots of musos. Mostly out of Sydney. Musos that were making it, or had made it, or were never going to make it. But who were all fucking good.

Lilly Gray had been one of these. But Lilly Gray wouldn’t be playing The Cross ever again. Tommy Gray would be. Because Tommy Gray wasn’t dead, like Lilly was.

Lilly and Tommy had met in a lane. Lilly had been homeless. Been on the streets for a few years. Not always on the streets. There were times she had a place at the Salvation Army hostel and other hostels like that.

Tommy had been jamming with some mates in a terrace down in the Loo. Woolloomooloo. Everyone loved Woolloomooloo. He was carrying his guitar, and Lilly called out to him.

‘Hey, James Taylor. Sing us a song.’

Tommy stopped, smiled and sang Lilly a song.

That’s how they got together. Hung out. Played music together. Dated. Married. Had Rory, their pride and joy.

Moved up the coast, where Tommy had family. Found a good rent, an old holiday joint with two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen and a large veranda running around three sides of the house. They loved each other. Everyone knew that.

Then Tommy fucked up. Times got tough for musos. Especially up the coast and for its locals. The Sydney and Melbourne bands got the venues. Tommy and Lilly were short of money cause music wasn’t paying. Not enough for a family to live on, that was for sure. So Tommy helped offload some weed for a fella.

He got caught and went inside for three months. He felt bad. Couldn’t believe he could do that to his little family. Lilly knew it was up to her now to provide, and there was only one way she could see to do that. She was a looker. It would only be until Tommy got out.

Lilly made money. Never knew there were so many horny blokes around. Money came in. Rory and Lilly could eat and pay bills.

Lilly closed her eyes to the source of the money. If she thought about it, she felt shame and she couldn’t bear that. One  of the horny blokes introduced her to something that would make her forget any shame. It was nice and it was free.  For now.

By the time Tommy came out, Lilly had a habit. Big bad habit. The rest is history. History that Sergeant William Jarrett needs to uncover. And so the odd drop in to The Cross, where he might learn something.

Daisy knew the Sarge. Fancied him if truth be known. But who was to know? Daisy wasn’t saying anything.

Okay, he was maybe ten years older than her, but that’s not abnormal. Sexier, Daisy reckoned.

‘Hi, Sergeant.’

‘Daisy, it’s William. Stop with the Sergeant bit.’

‘I think Sergeant is cute and respectful. My father taught me to respect the law, even if the law is awfully cute.’

Sergeant William Jarrett smiled.

‘Okay. Hi, Daisy.’

‘You here on official business, Sarge, or doing a tour of duty down the beach to make sure all those stunning bodies are behaving as they should?’

‘Give me a break, Daisy.’

Daisy sat herself down at the spare chair at the Sergeant’s table.

‘Okay, William.’

They sat in silence looking at each other.

‘Still beating yourself up?’ she asked.

William Jarrett had been the one who arrested Tommy Gray for dealing in weed. It was the court who gave  Tommy the three months, but The Heads was a small community. Everyone knew everyone or about everyone, and they all knew about the dark slide the Gray family went on after Tommy’s incarceration.

As a cop, you have to remain impersonal. But that’s not easy. You also have to stand behind the law. Sure, there’s some room to move, but if you are dealing in drugs there are consequences. The consequences for Tommy’s dealing had been Lilly’s overdose, and William Jarrett was having trouble living with that.

Daisy had discovered this at the funeral for Lilly. She had seen the Sergeant sitting in his car outside the church. She had seen it in his eyes.

‘Any news? Any breakthrough?’ Daisy asked.

‘No, Daisy. Brick wall. That’s why I’m here again. Hoping someone lets something slip. Someone knows something, that’s for sure.’

‘No one’s been pushing stuff here, William. They’d have their dick cut off if they dared try.’

‘Tommy been in lately?’

‘Comes in at times. He’s playing Sunday night in fact. We’re all pleased. First gig he’s taken on since it happened. Why don’t you come along? I’ll keep you a seat.’

‘Might do.’

‘Latte?’

‘Thanks.’

‘It’s on the house.’

‘You know I can’t accept that, Daisy.’

‘Yep, I know, William.’

And at that Daisy wandered off to find a latte for the Sergeant.

Extracted from The Hidden by Bryan Brown,

available in all good bookstores from November 4.

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The Hidden

by Bryan Brown

Bryan Brown's distinctive storytelling voice returns in this unflinching, gripping novel from the bestselling author of The Drowning.

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