The Girl Remains (Detective Corban)

by Katherine Firkin

  ‘I don’t know. I was in the thick of the bushes at one point, and I had to push my way through that . . .’

  ‘That’s how you sustained the cuts on your hands?’

  ‘Yeah, and then I think I must’ve found a track that looked familiar and it took me to the house.’

  ‘You were still alone when you got there?’

  ‘I found Scarlett on the doorstep; she was crying and stuff.’

  ‘Did she say anything? Did she tell you where she’d been or what had happened to Cecilia?’

  ‘No . . . not really. She was mainly just crying.’

  ‘She said nothing at all?’

  ‘Um . . . I think she said something about losing Cecilia, but she was just really crying a lot. Please, you have to understand, we were both really scared . . .’

  ‘I think it’s best if we give her a break now.’

  ‘Okay, interview suspended . . .’

  Emmett turned off the tape and exhaled, realising he’d been holding his breath. It was chilling, hearing the panicked words of the girl pouring out like that, a glimpse back in time more than two decades earlier. Gypsy had sounded so young, so scared. And yet there was something apparently untruthful about the whole thing.

  ‘What do you think?’ He looked to Lanh, who was sitting across from him at the table, noisily sucking a boiled lolly.

  ‘She’s lying,’ his colleague answered, without hesitation. ‘She says it’s too dark to see anything and then she says she can see footprints. She’s making it up.’

  ‘I agree, and the officer in the interview clearly thought that was dubious too. But there was something else . . .’ Emmett looked down to the pages of scrawled notes he’d taken. ‘Do you mind if I rewind the tape? There was something she said early on that bothered me.’

  It took several attempts to find the right spot, but when he did, he turned up the volume so that Gypsy’s desperate voice filled the office.

  ‘And what made the three of you decide to go out?’

  ‘We noticed it was nearly midnight, and we’d heard it was going to be a blood moon. One of the neighbours had said it would be bright red that night, and we wanted to see it.’

  ‘A neighbour?’

  ‘Yep. They said it was really special, and that it only happened every couple of years.’

  ‘But couldn’t you just see it from the garden, or the street outside?’

  ‘I suppose so, but they’d said that the beach would be the best spot to go – that there’d be these red paths through the water where the light reflected. We thought maybe we could swim through them.’

  ‘Right. And what made you choose Koonya Ocean Beach, specifically? Why not head to the front beach, or somewhere a little less isolated?’

  ‘We didn’t really think about it . . . the back beach is only a short walk from the house, and that’s where we usually go. And you know there’s that bit that’s like a lookout point?’

  ‘Near the stairs?’

  ‘Yeah. We knew that would be a good spot to see right down to the ocean, so our plan was to start there.’

  Emmett paused the recording.

  ‘So, according to Gypsy, she and her friends only went out that night because some neighbour told them to. Not only that, they were specifically instructed to go to the beach. That makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’ He hesitated, checking his colleague was following his train of thought. ‘Maybe there was someone following them that night. We need to make sure this mystery person was identified – and questioned.’

  Lanh took another lolly from the bag in front of him and wrestled with the wrapper until the sweet was free. He sucked it loudly, his expression settling into one of utter disgust.

  ‘That girl’s a liar.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘Well look who it is!’ Emmett grinned, marching towards the table at the back of Chino’s cafe. ‘If it isn’t Detective Carter.’

  His former partner beamed, standing up and extending an arm to shake hands. ‘It’s good to see you. These are some of my colleagues at the Arson Squad.’

  Emmett nodded to the unfamiliar faces. Though Steven Carter was significantly younger, he considered him a good friend. They’d worked closely together at the Missing Persons Unit, and Emmett had been thrilled to hear of the young officer’s promotion.

  ‘And how is life in the fire-ing line?’ He chuckled at his poor joke. No one else did.

  ‘It’s great!’ Steven’s cheeks rounded. ‘Every day’s different. Lots going on – I’m sure you heard about the arsonist out in Croydon recently?’

  ‘Sure did.’ Emmett pictured the news coverage of the hooded figure seen scampering in and out of grainy security footage around council buildings. ‘Is it five properties that kid ended up damaging?’

  ‘Four – the community centre blaze wasn’t his work after all.’

  ‘Still, you did well to catch him.’ Emmett addressed the group generally, having no idea who’d actually worked on the case. ‘I can’t imagine that was an easy task.’

  ‘Actually, it was pretty straightforward.’ An older detective gestured to a spare seat. ‘Fire bugs usually start young – they develop a taste for it early in life and it never really leaves them. You can nearly always track your arsonists back through the juvenile system.’

  ‘Really?’ Emmett sat down and happily accepted a menu from the woman next to him.

  He did feel a little guilty for slipping out on Lanh, leaving the younger detective to continue working through the interview notes while he indulged in a real lunch break. But there was something about his new colleague that was undoubtedly irritating.

  ‘What about you?’ Steven asked. ‘How’s cold case?’

  Emmett hesitated, reaching for a glass of water while he considered his response. ‘Good,’ he eventually managed. ‘Well, different. I’m not really sure yet.’

  ‘That good?’ Steven chortled.

  ‘No, it’s fine. I’m just taking longer to find my feet than I expected – my team’s only small, but because we’re part of homicide the dynamics are a bit hard to navigate . . . You know what that’s like. And I’m still answering to Bryce . . .’

  ‘Bryce Frederick?’ another detective scoffed. ‘What a flog. How that fraud weaselled his way to Superintendent is beyond me. And I bet he’ll be Chief Commissioner before we know it.’

  A collective groan echoed around the table and Emmett basked in the mutual dislike of his boss. ‘We actually went to the Academy together . . .’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yep. We were roommates there. In fact—’

  ‘Can I get you any starters?’ a waiter interrupted. ‘Why don’t I talk you through our specials?’

  ‘Sure.’ Emmett let the rest of the group order while he scoured the options. It was probably a good thing his rant on Bryce was cut short – that deep-seated rift was better left alone.

  He was halfway through his entrée when the phone call came. ‘Yes?’ He covered his left ear to block out the noisy background of the cafe. Lanh’s words spilled out in an incomprehensible rush.

  ‘The superintendent wants us to go now.’

  ‘What?’ Emmett only caught the end of the string of words.

  ‘The search team,’ his colleague tried again. ‘Down on the peninsula. They rang to say they’ve found more things.’

  ‘What things? What have they found?’

  ‘Bones.’ Lanh’s voice was breathless. ‘They say they’ve located the gravesite. They think they have the rest of the skeleton.’

  They’d been on the road almost an hour when Lanh’s fidgeting became intolerable, the detective wiggling in his seat and opening and closing compartments in the car.

  ‘Cut that out,’ Emmett snapped. ‘What on earth are you looking for?’

  ‘Tissues.’ Lanh shook his head, as though the answer should have been obvious.

  ‘I highly doubt I have any. There might be some old serviettes in the back seat though? Nicholas used a heap last n
ight when he was eating his Maccas on the way home. Made such a freaking mess . . . What the hell are you doing?’ Emmett did his best to keep his eyes on the road, but he was utterly distracted by his partner, who was now contorted at such an angle that his whole body was twisted into him, head burrowing out of sight somewhere behind the driver’s seat, buttocks wiggling in the air.

  ‘Want some?’ Lanh propped back up in his chair, a large plastic tub balanced precariously on his lap.

  ‘What is it?’ Emmett darted a quick look sideways before returning his attention to the merging traffic. They were out past Dandenong, and he soon needed the turn off for the Peninsula Link.

  ‘Fairy floss.’ His colleague plied the container open and held up a fistful of sticky pink substance. ‘Have some.’

  ‘No thanks. Do you normally bring fairy floss with you on investigations?’

  ‘Sometimes. Or gum. Are you sure you don’t have tissues?’ Lanh lurched forward again and started rummaging through the glove box.

  ‘Stop it.’ Emmett slammed the compartment shut. ‘This isn’t a school field excursion. You’re not a child.’

  His partner collapsed back in his seat. They continued on in silence, with only the occasional chewing or swallowing sound from Lanh to break the tension.

  ‘I think we’re nearly there,’ Emmett eventually offered, slowing at an intersection before turning onto a wide highway.

  Sure enough, the ocean appeared on their right, the clear water of Port Phillip Bay teasing them from behind shrubs of tea-tree.

  ‘It’s so old.’ Lanh seemed totally disinterested in the beckoning coast, instead pointing at the modest businesses that hugged the roadside closest to him: the poky little convenience stores, tackle and bait shops, and cafes, all stuck somewhere back in the nineties.

  ‘It’s quaint,’ Emmett insisted. ‘This is what a coastal town should look like. What did you expect? It’s not the bloody Gold Coast.’

  Lanh shrugged.

  They crawled along, the drive interrupted by regular pedestrian crossings and mini vans that were apparently lost. Further ahead, an outdated funfair sat idly on the foreshore, its abandoned carnival rides half dismantled. Emmett noted a roadside sign telling them they were now in Rye.

  ‘We can’t be far off, surely.’

  As though on cue, his GPS beeped, urging them past a caravan park and off to the left. On the other side of a major road, the street turned from asphalt to gravel. He slowed as they followed the single lane, weaving its path up a gentle slope.

  ‘I dare say we’re in for a bit of a hike.’

  He pulled up in a carpark which offered magnificent views of blue ocean, the presence of several marked police vehicles telling him they were at the right spot. To the right a sign indicated a walking track through the shrubbery.

  ‘Please tell me you’re leaving the fairy floss?’ Emmett sighed, watching his awkward partner hug the now near-empty tub against his chest before thinking better of it and dropping it to the car floor. Thank heavens.

  The trail was well-marked, a short walk down a wooden staircase and along a sandy path. But once they were away from the walls of tea-tree, it became terribly exposed and Emmett immediately regretted his decision to leave his sunglasses in the car.

  ‘So windy,’ Lanh complained, wiping at his eyes.

  ‘Yes, but incredible, isn’t it?’

  The beach stretched on for miles, home to impressive sandstone rocks and generous rockpools, its dunes speckled with grass and clusters of limestone. Up ahead, the drop down became steeper, the rocky edge creating a cliff face.

  ‘That’s where our bones are, by the look of things.’ Emmett pointed to the blue bodies halfway down the steep incline.

  They moved towards the group, carefully navigating their way down the cliff and between rocks.

  ‘You did well to find this so quickly; it’s such a secluded spot.’ Emmett nodded to the local sergeant. ‘How far are we from where the bones were discovered yesterday?’

  The officer smirked and waved him over to a ledge. ‘Not far at all, but it’s quite a drop.’

  Emmett took a step back, a sudden, violent lurch of vertigo overwhelming his senses. The wide expanse of sandy beach was directly below them, not quite a sheer fall, but enough to make him dizzy.

  ‘I’d presumed the bones were washed up from the ocean, but I guess that’s not the case.’

  ‘No. The remains were too well-preserved to have been affected by saltwater for all those years. That’s why we focused on this area first.’

  ‘You did well.’ Emmett retreated from the ledge and followed the sergeant towards the group of forensic officers who were bent down in a circle. ‘Mind if I take a look?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He peered into a deep gap between jagged rocks, a dark crevice where more of that same, dusty white bone he’d seen in photographs gleamed out at him. He shuddered. What a lonely grave.

  ‘Most of the remains are wedged in, so we’re waiting for help to excavate them. We don’t want to damage any of the pieces.’

  ‘Do you think it’s . . .’

  ‘A child? Yes.’ The sergeant nodded sadly. ‘The missing Blairgowrie girl? Quite possibly.’

  Emmett hesitated, watching the search team’s methodical work. Then he joined the officer in moving up and away from the gravesite. In the distance he saw Lanh scurrying further along the rocks, poking and prodding at different spots. What was his colleague doing?

  ‘You know, as awful as it sounds, I really do hope that this is that missing girl,’ the sergeant murmured, wiping his hands vigorously on his trousers. ‘I was actually just a junior at the local station here when she disappeared. It was horrendous. It changed our town completely.’

  ‘People became scared?’

  ‘Yes, but also suspicious. Neighbours looked at each other differently, front doors were locked – nothing was the same.’

  ‘Were you involved in the investigation yourself?’ Emmett stepped aside so that several forensic officers could move past.

  ‘We all were. It consumed our community for years. Like everyone, I desperately wanted answers for that poor girl and her family – some sort of closure. But eventually you have to let things go, don’t you?’

  Emmett looked to the horizon, where the blue of the ocean met the hazy white sky. A lone seabird swooped and rose across the water.

  He squeezed his shoulder blades together.

  ‘I hope not,’ he muttered.

  CHAPTER SIX

  They’d left the forensic team with the grisly task of extricating the bones and had returned to the car, where Lanh was refusing to get in until he’d removed every grain of sand from his body.

  ‘How does it get everywhere?’ The detective swatted at his legs as though covered in flies.

  ‘It’s your own fault for going off-piste like that,’ Emmett muttered, tossing his colleague a hand towel from the back seat. ‘What were you doing out there anyway?’

  Lanh paused, his lips pursed. ‘Just checking the area,’ he smiled mysteriously.

  Emmett let it go. ‘Do you feel like a little drive-by?’ He tapped at his GPS. ‘I was thinking we could have a quick look at Koonya Avenue, and the house where the girls had been staying. I’d love to know how far away that place is from the gravesite.’

  ‘Waste of time.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We don’t even know if the bones are the missing girl!’ The young detective finally got in and shut the passenger door. ‘Could be anyone.’

  ‘I hardly think so. How many other open cases are there around this area? And it’s not like it’s a huge detour – look.’ Emmett pointed to the map on the screen. ‘Koonya Avenue runs parallel to the road we’re on now. It’ll only take a few minutes.’

  Lanh scowled.

  Ignoring his partner’s lack of enthusiasm, Emmett began the short journey, soon turning into a narrow, dusty road. The houses that lined it were a mixture of new units and single
dwellings – the absence of direct beach frontage no doubt keeping the street from becoming overdeveloped.

  ‘It should be up on the right here.’ He peered at the letterboxes. ‘But I can’t see a number anywhere.’

  He parked across the driveway of a deserted-looking property, its rusting metal gates overrun by shrubbery. Lowering his window, he squinted towards the door.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  An older man was standing further along the street.

  ‘Detective Corban.’ Emmett got out and walked over. ‘I’m looking for number 20?’

  The man’s eyes widened. ‘Well you’re two houses too early. It’s my place you’re after.’

  Emmett took in the stranger before him. He was balding, with grey stubble, probably aged in his mid to late sixties; a faded tattoo across his right knuckle suggested a life outside the corporate world. Could it be?

  ‘Leicester Reyes.’ The man nodded, as though reading his mind. ‘You’re here about the bones.’

  After moving the car out of the way, Emmett joined Lanh and Leicester in the lounge room of the Reyes home: a typical beach shack that had been fitted out with just enough modern comforts.

  ‘I didn’t realise you’d still be living here.’ Emmett took a seat on a lime green chair. The cushion squeaked as he sat down.

  ‘Been here for almost thirty years now,’ Leicester sighed. ‘And they’ll be carrying me out in a box when I leave.’

  ‘I can understand why you’ve stuck around. It’s a wonderful area, so peaceful.’

  Leicester scoffed. ‘Peace hasn’t been my friend since the day we lost that beautiful girl. You have no idea how it haunts me.’

  ‘No . . .’ Emmett left the thought hanging. ‘And you’re retired now? From the force?’

  ‘Three years, almost to the day.’ The man scrunched his nose. ‘Time flies, doesn’t it? I keep up with the general happenings, of course; still got some good mates at my old station – that’s how I knew about the remains on the beach.’

  ‘I see.’ Emmett leant in, wondering how best to prod for information. ‘Do you think it’s her?’