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Saving Rose

Page 24

by Kate Genet


  She pulled her mind back to the present.

  ‘Look, I know it happens all the time in books and movies, but really, how would he get her in the car, and keep her there? It’s not like he’s going to be carrying a gun to stick in her side.’

  Claire’s eyes were steady. ‘He could get her to drive, hold a knife to her.’

  ‘But to what purpose? Don’t get me wrong, the man’s obviously a menace, but he must know we’ve only the thinnest of cases against him. He can’t even know we have Zoe’s phone, or that there are photos on it.’

  They were both silent, staring out at the street. Moana couldn’t tell what Claire was thinking.

  ‘He came here looking for the photograph,’ Claire said. ‘And he found it, obviously.’ She gestured back inside the house where Tracey and Margaret both sat on the sofa looking at them. Moana looked quickly away.

  ‘Since it’s no longer on her phone where we know it was,’ Claire continued. ‘There’s no reason for Jeanette to have deleted it and every reason for her not to have, so I think we can safely say Danny let himself in knowing there was a photo – probably because Zoe had said so – and found it, deleted it.’

  ‘Then left,’ Moana finished. ‘We need to know where he is, and where Jeanette is.’

  Agitation made its first show in Claire’s gestures. ‘Do we have any sort of case against him at all? Because I have to say I am not prepared to hand Rose over to him; knowing what I know now, to let him near her would be inconceivable.’

  Moana stuck her hands on her hips and considered it. ‘Not for Sahara Woolsley’s death, not yet,’ she considered. ‘But maybe as a child sex offender. We have the two photos on Zoe’s phone.’

  ‘Which don’t even show him.’ Claire was definitely agitated. ‘And they’re on Zoe’s phone, not his.’ She looked out over the street. ‘And I'm guessing the originals went up in flames with the rest of the house.’

  Moana bared her teeth in a grin. ‘All that is as may be, but this is where good old-fashioned police work comes in.’ She nodded. ‘We need to find his sister. Talk to her.’ She ticked off a mental list. ‘What about his parents, what do you know about them? He’s Australian, right?’

  Claire snapped her fingers. ‘That’s it!’ she said. ‘I knew there was something bothering me when we saw the house burnt down and now I’ve finally got it.’ She looked at Moana, eyes intense.

  ‘I remember Zoe telling me about Danny’s family. She said their house burnt down when he was eighteen years old.’ A slight pause and Claire’s face took on a thoughtful cast. ‘His parents died in the blaze.’

  Moana let that sink in. ‘We can’t let ourselves jump to any conclusions.’

  ‘No, but it’s certainly suggestive. I'm not going to pretend I'm not thinking this might be indicative of a pattern, here.’

  Moana thought it was too early to think anything of the sort, except she found herself considering it anyway. ‘What about the sister?’ she asked.

  Claire gazed into the middle distance, remembering. ‘She survived. Zoe said she went to live with an aunt, I think.’

  ‘She never met her?’

  A shake of the head.

  ‘Strange, don’t you think? They never made a trip back to Aussie for Zoe to meet the sister? It’s not that far away. Hell, everyone I know nips over there just to lie around on the Gold Coast every winter. Visiting family is an even better reason, don’t you think?’

  ‘I think we need to speak to her.’

  Moana fingered her phone, considering the photos on there, the ones from Zoe’s phone. ‘His sister must have been quite a bit younger. I'm sure it won’t take long for me to find her when I get back to the station. A few calls will probably do it.’ She paused. ‘With a bit of luck.’

  Her phone rang and a moment later a constable was updating her.’

  ‘Where is he?’ she asked.

  ‘We’ve traced the signal to Dyers Pass Road.’

  ‘What?’

  The sound of a mouse clicking. ‘Yes, that’s right. Dyers Pass Road.’ A brief pause. ‘The lookout area there. I’ve been there, actually – it gives an amazing view down over Lyttelton Harbour.’

  Moana was nodding. She knew where it was, though couldn’t have said at all the last time she’d been there. No one went that way anymore. Except right now, the tunnel was out of commission.

  ‘Will that be all, Detective?’

  Definitely not. ‘Do we have anyone on that road, Dwight?’

  Constable Dwight must have had the answer at his fingertips. ‘Only a road services crew, Sergeant. There’s been a lot of rock fall along parts of the road, although reports say none of it is blocked.’

  Moana could feel Claire’s gaze on her. For a moment she had the mad idea of putting the phone on speaker, so they could both hear, then realised what an absurd notion that was. She was the police officer. Claire was at best – what? A concerned citizen.

  Maybe, but Moana could feel the intense force of her personality without even looking at her. Claire Wilde was not going to rest until she could guarantee her best friend’s little daughter was safe.

  Neither, for that matter, was Moana.

  61

  Fury rode with him like an extra passenger in the back seat, leaning over and hissing in his ear.

  He spent the first twenty minutes of the trip back over the hill spilling curses from his mouth. He was exhausted, dirty, hungry, and mad as hell.

  All that effort. Planning. Wasted.

  Now, not only had he lost his damned computer, he’d lost just about everything else he needed as well. Leaning forward as he drove, he touched shaking fingertips to the back pocket of his jeans, reassuring himself.

  His wallet was still there. Driver’s license, ATM cards, credit cards, thirty dollars in cash, a bunch of old receipts he’d kept meaning to chuck out but never got around to, and a photo of him holding Rose.

  What he didn’t have, of course, were the insurance papers, Zoe’s will – all the things he was going to need to start a nice life over in Aussie with Rose. The stuff that would make it that much more comfortable, the details for the pay-outs that would let him build up a business again.

  His mind ticked over the details. He guessed though that he could claim he’d lost it all in the quake and the house fire. No one would question him about that. Crap would be lost like that all over the city.

  All he had to do, he decided, was get out of the country as soon as he could.

  Because, as much as he didn’t want to acknowledge it, if the dirty thief who stole his stuff managed by some nasty miracle to break the password to the computer, then he really would be fucked.

  His fists slammed into the steering wheel again. Just when he’d thought he had everything sorted out! Just when he’d realised there was no case against him for Sahara’s death, this had to go and happen. What were the odds?

  His foot lifted slightly from the accelerator and the car slowed on the twisting road. A moment later he was sitting in the middle of the road, light-headed.

  He should have locked the car. Because what if it hadn’t been just an opportunistic kid who took the backpack? What if it had been Jeanette? What if she’d seen him coming and snuck out around behind him, and got her own back?

  He shook his head. The thought was ridiculous. Impossible. Relief flooded him, and he put his foot back to the pedal, the car lurching forward again. He steered around a drift of boulders, still turning over the thought.

  No, he decided at last. That was taking everything too far. And how would she have done it anyway? Her flat was too small – he would have seen her running out the front door as he was coming through the back.

  It had been some kid on the street. No one to worry about.

  All the same, he decided there’d be no hanging around once he got Rose. Snatch the kid up and get out of there. Just to be on the safe side.

  It was a bloody long drive, he decided, coasting around yet another tight corner, going at s
nail’s pace to avoid all the rocks. For a moment, he craned his neck upward, looking at the towering hill on the right side of the road but it made him dizzy and he sought the road again in a hurry. Squinting at the two narrow lanes ahead of him, he consulted a map in his head, tracing lines and squiggles across what he could remember of the way the land lay around here, looking for another way out. A way that wouldn’t involve another interminable trip over the bloody winding little pass.

  It was too unfamiliar to him. He’d never paid much attention to sight-seeing or anything. What a waste of time! Who wanted to look at stupid rocks and bunches of waddling penguins and shit like that? He had better things to do with his time and there were most definitely better things to watch. Especially if you had a camera and a little girl to give you some legitimacy.

  Thoughts humming around in circles, Danny flicked on the car radio in time for an announcement that brought a happy smile to his face. Just what he needed to hear.

  Qantas and Air New Zealand have put together an initiative for Australians to travel home on compassionate fares. There are arrangements being made for those who have lost passports and other important documents. Australian citizens wishing to return home are advised to make their way to Wellington city and there are local check points around Christchurch set up to help…

  That was a bloody handy stroke of luck. Thumping the steering wheel again, this time in glee, Danny crowed out loud, proud of how worldly he was to keep his passport on him, and no one was going to question his desire to return home, or to take his little daughter with him. She didn’t have a passport, or birth certificate anymore, but it didn’t sound like that was going to be a problem. There was a way around it. He had lots of photos of her, right from when she was a baby. Except, he realised, his pleasure turning sour as curdled milk, they were all on the computer. Which was gone. Stolen right out from under his nose by some looting arsehole.

  There was activity at the lookout.

  Slowing imperceptibly, Danny cruised by, trying to fathom what was going on.

  It looked like a bunch of the road workers he’d seen here and there were standing around the rubbish bin he’d burnt the photos in and talking on walkie-talkies.

  The walkie-talkies made him think of Claire and the snooty-smug way she’d chatted up her father, organising everyone into doing what she wanted. Was she behind this too?

  Common sense came to his rescue. She couldn’t be behind this, there was no rhyme or reason to it. Probably these fellas were just scratching their heads over the rubbish bin because it gave them a break from hauling rocks.

  Except one of them was setting out a bunch of bright orange road cones, standing them in a semi-circle around the bin. Danny pressed his foot slightly harder to the accelerator and the car gave a lurch forward.

  Something, it seemed, was going on, and he didn’t like any of the options he could come up with as to what that something was.

  He needed to get Rose, and he needed to get her right away.

  62

  Tracey launched herself at Jeanette as soon as she appeared in her own living room.

  ‘I thought he had you!’ Tracey wailed, and hearing his mum fussing so loudly set the baby George off across the room as well.

  Jeanette was shaking her head and working hard to extricate herself from Tracey’s clinging embrace.

  ‘Nope,’ she said after a tense minute to free herself. ‘Not even close.’ Claire watched her take them in one at a time, gaze finally stopping on Claire herself. ‘You’re Detective Sergeant Hodge, right? You should have gotten here just a bit earlier and then we’d have the bastard.’

  ‘I'm DS Moana Hodge,’ Moana said, and Jeanette’s eyes swung around to meet the police woman’s. ‘We’ve been trying to figure out where you were.’

  ‘I told them everything that happened, Jeanette,’ Tracey burst out. ‘I told them he climbed the fence and came right in, but I’d got you out just in time, but when I came back from finding your mum – or not finding her, I mean, cos I never did after all – then you were gone.’ She stopped to draw breath. ‘I thought he must have had you.’

  Jeanette’s only reply was a shake of the head. She looked curiously back at Claire. ‘You look familiar,’ she said.

  Claire winced. Of all the times to be recognised. ‘I'm Claire Wilde,’ she said. ‘I was a friend of Zoe’s.’

  The assessing eyes blinked at her. ‘Claire Wilde, the sailor? You were on telly a few days ago?’

  Had it been only a few days ago? Already it seemed as though years, maybe centuries, had passed.

  Everyone was looking at her now. ‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘That would have been me.’

  Tracey’s eyes had turned saucer-shaped. ‘You were on the telly? How come I didn’t recognise you?’

  Claire had no answer to that. She pressed her lips together then decided to get things back on the right track. Right now, it didn’t make a hoot of difference who she was or what she did for a living.

  ‘Zoe and I were pretty much sisters,’ she said. ‘My parents are looking after Rose right now and I want it to stay that way. I don’t want her going back to Danny Fry.’ She paused, looking at Jeanette. ‘Except we don’t have much to go on when it comes to him.’

  A slow smile spread over Jeanette’s face, and she swung something off her back. ‘Actually,’ she said. ‘We do.’

  A frown burrowed in between Claire’s brows. ‘Where did you get that?’ she asked. It looked an awful lot like the backpack her mother kept in the boot of her car. Her Go-Bag she liked to call it.

  ‘Right out of the passenger’s seat of Danny’s car!’ Jeanette’s words were a cry of triumph. ‘He came right in here and started rifling around.’ The pride in her eyes turned to anger. ‘I couldn’t stand around doing nothing while he did that, not knowing he was going to go into Sahara’s room…’ She glanced down the little hallway, and Claire knew she was itching to go push the door open to her daughter’s room, check if anything had been disturbed.

  Jeanette swung back around. ‘So I went off to find his car.’ She shrugged. ‘It was better than doing nothing.’ She held up the pack. ‘And as you can see – it paid off.’ A sly smile. ‘His computer’s in it.’

  Moana’s voice was an abrupt bark. ‘Did you look on it?’

  Claire watched the shutters fall a little over Jeanette’s eyes. ‘I turned it on,’ she said. ‘But it needs a password. And I didn’t put my sticky little fingers all over it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Of course, I didn’t get a warrant to take it in the first place, but since I'm not the police, I don’t guess that matters. You can charge me with stealing, if you like.’ She stopped talking, waited a few beats, but no one said anything, and she resumed. ‘There’s a bunch of paperwork in the bag as well. All the sort of stuff you grab when you’re going on the run.’ Her look moved from defiant to exhausted, and she slumped over the bag.

  ‘I just want to you get him for killing my daughter.’

  Even Claire couldn’t stop her wince at the words. She dug her fingers into the flesh of her arms and promised herself that if Danny had killed Sahara, then she would see that he paid for it.

  Moana took the backpack and unzipped it, peering in.

  ‘But where have you been?’ Tracey demanded. ‘I mean good work and everything, right? But where were you?’

  Jeanette shook her head and sank down on the sofa, absently letting her mother put an arm around her. ‘I was with old Mrs. Murray,’ she said. Her eyes flicked to Claire’s. ‘She lives in the end flat. She came out just after I’d nicked the bag, and I was worried Danny would come along and find the both of us. The poor old thing was super scared because of all the aftershocks, so I stayed and had a cup of tea with her.’

  No one said anything for a moment. It was Jeanette who broke the silence, speaking to her mother, and to Moana.

  ‘I don’t think we should go ahead with the funeral,’ she said. She looked at her mother. ‘Everyone’s going to need
another day or two to pull themselves together after the earthquake.’ Turned to Moana. ‘I want someone else to go over her body,’ she said. ‘Take another look. There must be some evidence they missed. I'm not burying her until we’re absolutely positive there’s nothing there to show what Danny Fry did.’ Her face was white with grief and fatigue but composed and determined. Claire turned to see what Moana was going to do with that one.

  Moana had her eyes closed. She opened them a moment later, obviously having come to a decision. A nod confirmed this.

  ‘All right, Jeanette,’ she said. ‘We’ve got enough to make me suspicious. I'm going to take this back to the station.’ She held up the bag. ‘And get one of our tech guys to access the hard drive.’

  ‘What about Sahara?’

  ‘I’ll see what I can make happen on that front, too.’ Moana looked uncertain for a moment, probably about her chances of being able to find someone to look at the child when there were so many still trapped and dying in buildings in the city centre, but her expression cleared into grim determination.

  Margaret untangled herself from the baby George, who had fallen asleep, his little mouth open in a perfect O, slipping him down to lie against a cushion, where Jeanette stared at him.

  ‘I’ll make some calls,’ Margaret said. ‘Just as well the lines are back up, or whatever they are these days.’

  Claire didn’t bother to tell her what they were. She had already moved on to think what her next step was.

  They were leaving before she asked, however. ‘What can I do to help?’

 

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