Vanished

by James Delargy

  ‘And people.’

  ‘Yes. But fortunately rarely people. It was fired from a distance of about four metres, which rules out suicide, despite the gunpowder residue on the victim’s remaining fingers.’

  ‘On that. Have you a time frame for when the victim might have fired a gun?’

  ‘Given the continued presence of residue, I’d say recently.’

  ‘And he’d been dead for about a week when we found him?’

  ‘The results indicate so. Though we have to account for accelerated decomposition due to exposure to high temperatures which allow the bacteria to thrive.’ This information was delivered in a friendly but cold fashion, like a priest giving last rites, the ritual to be respected but the edges lightly smoothed. The results matched Dr Patel’s initial observations. Emmaline would have to remind her next time that sometimes facts could be immediately known. She wouldn’t like that at all.

  ‘And the fractured bone?’

  ‘A radius bone. Forearm. Nasty fracture suggesting blunt force trauma from a large object.’

  ‘Like a crowbar? Sledgehammer?’

  ‘Bigger. Most likely a vehicle. Possibly bull bars as a culprit. A lifesaver if you hit an animal, a killer if you hit a human, but I digress,’ said Dr Collins.

  ‘So a ute?’ asked Emmaline, thinking of the family’s vehicle.

  ‘Or any 4x4 or off-road vehicle,’ said Dr Collins. ‘If you can locate the vehicle and it hasn’t been thoroughly scrubbed you might even find evidence of human material, blood, skin or hair, still present.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘The toxicological report brought up nothing unusual in his system, no drugs, no alcohol, though of course the dingoes contaminated some of that too.’

  Emmaline didn’t need that visual circling her head again. Not this early in the morning.

  Dr Collins continued. ‘Blood that matches Dylan Maguire’s registered blood group was found on the shirt at the scene.’

  ‘Enough to suggest death?’

  ‘Any amount of blood loss could suggest death, Detective. But it’s not in worrisome quantities if that’s what you are getting at. Naiyana Maguire’s blood type was present too. Again not enough to necessarily suggest death, but enough to indicate injury.’

  Emmaline thought back to the house and the broken mirror. A family raided, maybe even burgled. Things get out of hand, Naiyana is killed and the father grabs the son and runs before being chased down in the desert by the burglars. Or Naiyana and Dylan taken as hostages. Maybe by the voice in the tunnel. But Lorcan had recorded the video eight days before the final frantic message, so the presence of whoever this voice belonged to hadn’t immediately frightened the family off.

  48 Emmaline

  Her next call was to Perth. ZZ and the others were looking into Lorcan Maguire’s dealings, pre- and post-redundancy, and a team led by Neil Templeton, another detective from the MCS, was looking into the charity and the scandal that forced Naiyana Maguire out of a job.

  It was the latter team that brought news this morning. A Leona Sanchez had come forward admitting to meeting Naiyana in Wisbech on 21 December.

  An interview had been set up for noon. Emmaline told them to make it one and she would be there.

  * * *

  Emmaline entered the interview room to be greeted by a slim woman in her forties with lines on her face that foundation could not cover. Despite her exotic-sounding surname she was pasty white and looked like she would burn at the sheer mention of the word sun. Her demeanour was a little agitated, her long fingernails scraping her palms.

  After formalizing greetings and informing Mrs Sanchez that this interview was being recorded, Emmaline settled into the questions.

  ‘You said you met Naiyana Maguire in Wisbech?

  ‘On the twenty-first of December. In the Half-Door Cafe.’

  ‘And on any other occasion since she left Perth?’

  ‘No, just that once.’

  ‘Has anyone else from the charity met with her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  There was nothing that suggested Leona Sanchez was a liar but Emmaline decided to push her.

  ‘Why didn’t you speak up before?’

  Leona Sanchez’s agitation materialized into a persistent hand tremor.

  ‘We didn’t chat about much, just the latest… the fallout from what she – we – had done.’

  ‘And what was the fallout?’

  ‘You must have read about it, Detective?’

  Emmaline kept quiet and waited for Leona to expand on her own question.

  ‘It was in the papers, online, on the news even. The boycott of Brightside Foods, the recall of their new baby food line? Over a hundred jobs lost? The protests outside our office? The things sent to Naiyana—?’

  Emmaline pounced. ‘What kinds of things?’

  ‘Online threats mostly. And two letters with dog shit in them. One with human. It was too much heat for the charity. It was adversely affecting donations. They told Naiyana to leave.’

  ‘And what did you think?’

  ‘I think they should have supported her,’ said Leona, the tremor now paused. She had found Leona’s backbone. Loyalty to her friend. ‘Instead they threw her out. Nee was in the right. We were in the right.’

  ‘So you want her back?’

  ‘Yes, I want her back. But she had to move away. Into hiding.’

  ‘Is that what she said?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So she didn’t want to go?’

  Leona shook her head. ‘No. We both knew she couldn’t cope with being in the middle of nowhere. She was just so full of energy. And now…’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘I don’t know. No one can find her. The police are around asking questions. It must mean that it’s serious.’

  Leona’s eyes closed, the renewed tremor threatening to knock the glass of water off the table.

  Emmaline didn’t need her breaking down so changed the subject. ‘On that day – the twenty-first – did you chat about anything specific?’

  ‘I updated her on the whole shitstorm, nothing specific, just that it was still a shitstorm. We talked about how she and the family were doing.’

  ‘And what was the impression you got?’

  ‘She was coping. Trying to cope. It was a massive change for all of them.’

  ‘Did she seem distressed?’

  ‘No. Maybe bored and a little sorry for where she found herself. I was sorry for her too. We talked about the vlogs. I told her to make sure no one could identify the town.’

  ‘Because of the threats?’

  ‘Yes. This scandal affected a lot of people, Detective. Including that sleazeball MP.’

  ‘Chester Grant.’

  ‘Yes. I told her that his office had been in contact.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘They didn’t say. Probably arse-covering. Getting Nee to do a photo shoot with BS Foods and their revised product.’

  ‘And was she interested?’

  Leona bit her lip. ‘I don’t know. But she did hint that she knew something about him.’

  Emmaline frowned. ‘Like what?’

  ‘She didn’t say.’

  ‘She didn’t mention anything?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But it sounded important?’

  ‘Seemed to be.’

  Emmaline made a note to contact Chester Grant. To see why he wanted to get in touch with Naiyana Maguire so badly.

  ‘Just a few more questions, Mrs Sanchez. Could anyone have followed you? Did you use your credit or debit card anywhere?’

  ‘For fuel, yes.’ With this Leona’s eyes flashed wide. The tremors returned. And the self-blame. ‘You don’t think that someone could have… And I led them to her. And Lorcan. And Dylan.’ She couldn’t hold back her tears any longer.

  ‘Did you tell anyone else about the meeting?’ asked Emmaline.

  Leo
na continued crying and didn’t answer.

  ‘Mrs Sanchez?’

  ‘Just in the office. I thought the others should know she was okay. Was that wrong too?’ she asked, tears now dripping freely from her lined face.

  49 Lorcan

  Lorcan looked at the boxes of furniture lined up in the living room. This was the easy part of fixing up the house. No Internet manuals needed, just a simple set of stick-figure instructions. However, it was excruciatingly boring given what he knew was taking place just past the crossroads.

  Naiyana ducked her head into the room. ‘How are you getting on?’

  He stared at the box in front of him – a rocking chair – and didn’t respond.

  ‘I’m going to get some groceries. More ice for the box. Dylan is drawing in the kitchen.’

  ‘Take him with you.’

  ‘He’s happy where he is. And I need to get away.’

  He looked at her. They both knew why she needed to get away. To come to terms with the fact that they weren’t alone.

  He listened to the engine cough into life and the crunch of the tyres on the sand, before both sounds faded away leaving silence again. He opened the cardboard box – a jumble of pieces. He had no interest in it.

  He headed to the kitchen to check on Dylan. He was giving some anonymous superhero a decidedly garish cape, his tongue poking out.

  ‘I’m going out for a while. Stay here.’

  The head lifted from his work. ‘I’ll come too, Daddy.’

  Lorcan went to say no. Then thought about it. No harm in having a lookout. Just in case.

  * * *

  The house was still. No ute. No lights. And no rumbling. He put his finger to his lips to warn Dylan to stay quiet but the silence gave him no reason to suspect that the three men were lying in wait.

  Carefully easing the cupboard away from the hole following the precise lines, he heard Dylan coo as the tunnel was exposed.

  He prepared to enter. ‘Now, you keep watch up here. If you hear a truck, shout down the tunnel for Daddy and then run and hide.’ The stupidity of posting his six-year-old son as lookout became overly apparent to him but there was no one else.

  ‘I don’t want you going down there, Daddy.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’ll only be fifteen minutes.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Dylan, fifteen—’

  ‘I want to come too.’

  Lorcan looked at his son. Through the fear was a determination not to be left behind.

  ‘Stay behind Daddy then.’

  He switched on the torch and entered the tunnel.

  50 Emmaline

  After Leona’s admission the charity was interrogated again. It was quickly discovered that Naiyana’s location had been leaked to Chester Grant’s office. They had been in touch under the pretext of contacting Naiyana for a discussion about the revised baby food and someone had thought they were being helpful by letting them know that she had moved to the Wisbech area.

  Emmaline contacted Chester’s office to arrange a meeting but he was unavailable all afternoon. Even to the police.

  So taking advantage of being in the city, Emmaline decided to visit Nikos Iannis again. Oily joined her.

  Nikos lived in a stylish, detached house in Applecross, his view of the Swan River obstructed by the really expensive houses. So near and yet so far. Which must have been galling for him. Still he wasn’t doing so bad, the red slate, two-storey, an impressive property, with a swimming pool tucked under the trees at the back. In the wide driveway was a 4x4. With bull bars.

  After giving their names to the intercom, a buzzer opened the gates, Nikos not bothering to leave the house to meet them, indicating his disrespect through nonchalance.

  Approaching the 4x4 Emmaline spilled her keys from her pocket. Kneeling on the gravel, she surreptitiously checked the bull bars for any residue. For blood, hair or dirt, as Dr Collins suggested. Fumbling them further under, she glanced at the underside. It was clean. Recently washed. She supposed that people like Nikos didn’t get to run a successful company or afford a house like this without having some smarts. And being utterly ruthless.

  As she gathered her keys and looked up Nikos was standing in the doorway in a dressing gown, open down the front to reveal a chest that was flabby but glistening. Freshly shaved.

  ‘Find anything down there?’ he asked, with a grin.

  ‘No work today?’ Emmaline responded.

  ‘When you’re the boss you can choose when to go in. Maybe you’ll get the chance someday.’

  ‘Once I learn how to tie a dressing gown.’

  Nikos rolled his eyes. ‘What is it you want, Detective?’

  ‘To talk about your past.’

  Emmaline already knew about it. Nikos and Georgios Iannis had made their money in the shady world of debt collection, specializing in clients who had defaulted. The provision of financial advice was the reputable face of the business. Their MO, however, was mugging businesses that were in trouble and even some that weren’t. There were rumours that these negotiations were fraught and in some cases, violent, the use of roughhouse tactics suspected but unproven. Beatings, leanings and breakings.

  ‘We can talk about that out here,’ said Nikos, not moving from the doorway.

  ‘You and your brother are no strangers to violence, are you?’

  ‘Have you come to give me a history lesson or ask a question? If it’s A, I’m not interested. If it’s B, I’d like to have my lawyer present.’

  Oily stepped in. ‘We have statements from people in your office that there were lots of anxious meetings in the days following Lorcan Maguire’s redundancy.’

  ‘There were. Looking for the information he stole.’

  ‘Allegedly stole. Which you since haven’t found.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You don’t seem all that worried. Especially considering we found Lorcan Maguire’s body,’ said Emmaline.

  ‘What do you expect me to do about it?’

  ‘He was shot, Mr Iannis.’

  ‘And what? You think it was me? We were, and are, furious at the theft but more for allowing it to happen. We got negligent and it cost us. Greatly.’

  ‘But you admit trying to contact Mr Maguire to get the information back?’

  ‘We tried via the court.’

  ‘And when that failed you tracked him down and sent out someone to meet him. Is that right?’

  Nikos glared at her, trying but failing to disguise the look of guilt.

  ‘All we want is to save the company,’ said Nikos, less boisterous now, treading carefully. ‘We had lawyers threaten other companies off buying the info. But we still don’t know if he was flogging it. It hasn’t turned up. Yet.’

  ‘Which means that it was lost or is still out there somewhere. Maybe on a disk,’ said Oily.

  ‘Which you would kill to get your hands on,’ said Emmaline.

  ‘Kill is a big accusation, Detective. We’re the ones who lost out in all this shit.’

  ‘Apart from the dead man, of course.’

  ‘I had nothing to do with that,’ said Nikos, curtly.

  ‘The house had been turned over. As if someone was looking for something.’

  ‘I have nothing to say about that.’

  ‘There was little in that house of value apart from that information,’ said Emmaline. ‘It sure seemed like professionals were sent in to search and destroy. I’m sure you know a few.’

  ‘I’m sure I do too,’ admitted Nikos.

  Emmaline continued. ‘They found nothing so used Naiyana Maguire as leverage to get Lorcan to tell them where the information was hidden. Her blood was found in the house. Lorcan then escaped with his son before he was caught and killed.’

  ‘Are you accusing me of something?’ asked Nikos. ‘Is the answer, B? Do I need my lawyer?’

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ said Emmaline. ‘But we’re just covering all angles at the minute. Yours is one of the sharpest ones. Animosity breeds revenge. Doesn’
t it, Mr Iannis?’

  Nikos Iannis curled his lips into a snarl, stepped back and shut the door.

  51 Lorcan

  Dylan kept bumping into his legs, making them both stumble. His son was obeying the order to stay close to the letter. It had been a slow five-minute shuffle so far, ears trained for any stray noise that might indicate they weren’t alone.

  ‘I’m scared, Daddy.’

  ‘We’ll be there soon.’ Lorcan wanted to check the machine’s output. If there was gold, diamond or opal then he would be able to detect fragments somewhere. Or at least he thought so anyway. And if it was uranium or plutonium? Well the three men who’d been here last night hadn’t donned any special equipment to ward against radiation so he had ruled that out.

  ‘Can we go back?’

  ‘A little further. You can be my brave boy,’ said Lorcan. Thankfully the darkness shielded Dylan from seeing that his father’s own bravery was paper-thin.

  His reassurance lasted for thirty seconds. Then the tears started.

  ‘I want to go back, Daddy. I don’t like it down here.’

  Lorcan took another few steps and stopped. The crying bounced off the walls, surrounding him in despair. This had been a stupid idea. Bringing Dylan down here. He would have to come back alone. When Naiyana took Dylan to town next time. Tomorrow hopefully.

  ‘Okay, let’s go back,’ he said, nudging Dylan back towards the exit.

  * * *

  The light hurt his eyes for a few seconds after they emerged from the tunnel. His skin prickled with the heat and the fact he hadn’t been able to definitively prove what the men were mining.

  He manoeuvred his son into the open air, the heat instantly cranking from mildly irritating to almost unbearable.

  Holding his son close he gazed up and down the street to see if they had been watched. They hadn’t.

  One small, green bearded dragon was perched on a rock by the collapsed fence, its tongue flicking, tasting the fear in the air. Lorcan could taste it too.