According to the author's notes at the end of the novel LYREBIRD, the idea for this story came on a walk in the bush one day, when Caro crossed paths with a lyrebird. Having previously lived in an area where the sounds heard never quite seemed to match what was going on around us, it's not that difficult to picture the scenario where a lyrebird is filmed mimicking the sounds of a woman screaming in terror, begging for her life. It's also very easy to image the shock that would be for anybody, let along a young, hung over PHD student, out in the bush studying birds. All on her own, having earlier heard unidentifiable noises nearby, the shock, surprise and fright would be astounding. The sounds of that call would go on to haunt Jessica Weston for years to come.
It was mostly confusing for the young, new to the job detective, Megan Blaxland who was assigned to the potential case. Quite how or what you'd be investigating with the call of a territorial bird and therefore at least an area of impenetrable rainforest to look into your only clues. No missing persons reports, no obvious victim, no obvious attack site. The case goes cold quickly.
Until 20 years later and a body appears as a result of a landslide. By that stage Weston's a biology professor, Blaxland a retired, widowed detective, and a cold case in the middle of a dangerous, threatening bushfire season suddenly becomes an active investigation. Called back from retirement as a consultant because it was her case all those years ago, Blaxland is teamed up with her original partner, and a small team of eager young cops, who find more than they bargained for in that dense forest - more bodies, and their only clue to identity, a home made shoelace.
There's lots of personal dynamics at play in this novel, Blaxland dealing with the grief of loss, Weston with the difficulties of a divorce and a teenage daughter right slap bang in the middle of the rebellious years. There's a bit of guilt from the old partner of Blaxland's as well - he poo-pooed the evidence of the call back in the day, and now he's part of a serial killer investigation. A man with enough personal problems of his own, Blaxland finds their working relationship is all over the place after her year or so away from the job.
It should be noted that this is a story which revolves around human trafficking and sexual abuse, so the subject matter can be quite confrontational and the circumstances that the women who ultimately ended up in graves in the bush like that difficult to process. There's also some aspects of the portrayal of their lives and that of a transgender witness from back in the day that some readers may find challenging. Also challenging is the way that the case story builds alongside the bushfire threat, culminating in a major firestorm and some very risky actions on the part of Blaxland's team. The way that the author has conveyed the reality of trying to function in a huge bushfire was pretty accurate - the lack of hearing (from the roar of the fire and wind), the lack of visibility from smoke, the heat, and the way they combine to affect your breathing, and your thinking, all of that felt very realistic (worth again checking the author's notes, she had some very experienced advice in all aspects of this novel).
It's also a novel that fires some shots across the bows on climate change, lack of resourcing for agencies responsible for managing natural areas, problems in funding educational institutions, and the never-ending misery and viciousness of people trafficking and enforced sex work. All barrows that I think anybody who knows even a smidgen about Caro's background and interests could expect to have included in a crime fiction novel by her. None of which came across as from the pulpit, all of the elements woven in the story fairly seamlessly.
I was slow out of the blocks in starting this novel, but once that initial setup, and that calling lyrebird, and the impact it had on a younger Jessica were revealed it became a couple of sittings read. Another good example of crime fiction that takes a long, hard look at real issues in society, and whilst the serial killer aspect is there, it's not the point. The point is the victims, the survivors and the greyness around the edges.
Lyrebird
Lyrebirds are brilliant mimics, so if they mimic a woman screaming in terror and begging for her life, they have witnessed a crime. But how does a young, hung over PHD student and a wet behind the ears new detective, convince anyone that a native bird can be a reliable witness to a murder, especially when there is no body and no missing person?
And what happens when they turn out to be right?
A sound froze her blood. A woman. A woman screaming in pure terror. Screaming and sobbing—begging—out here, in this desolate place.
Twenty years ago, ornithology student Jessica Weston panicked when she heard a woman screaming for her life in the remote Barrington Tops. Her relief, when she discovers that it is a lyrebird making the sounds, is profound. She is thrilled to have caught his display on video. Then she remembers—lyrebirds are mimics. Whatever the wild creature has heard must have really happened, and happened nearby.
Jessica takes her video to the police. Despite support from newly minted detective, Megan Blaxland, with no missing person reported and no body, her evidence is ridiculed and dismissed.
Twenty years later, a body is unearthed, just where Jessica said it would be.
Horrified they let the case go cold, Jessica, now an associate professor, and Megan, recently retired but brought back to head up the investigation, reunite and join forces. They are determined to find the killer, whatever it takes. What they don't realise is that they are not just putting their lives in danger, but also the lives of those close to them . . .
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