The Girl Remains (Detective Corban)

by Katherine Firkin

  ‘We know Scarlett is somewhere in Dandenong, but Detective Nguyen has been getting all those details for me.’ Emmett looked to Lanh. ‘Any luck?’

  ‘Scarlett Reyes lives in a unit in Dandenong and works as a real estate agent for a company based in the south-eastern suburbs.’ Lanh recited the information as though he was a student who’d been rote learning. ‘Gypsy Chu now goes by the name Gina Harper; she and her husband own a property in South Melbourne.’

  Emmett raised his eyebrows. Gypsy – or Gina – had obviously done well for herself. South Melbourne was one of the city’s most affluent inner suburbs. Certainly, he and Cindy could never afford to buy there.

  ‘Sounds like we could get to both women today then?’ Bianca gave Emmett a look that suggested this wasn’t really a question.

  ‘Yes.’ He pushed his shoulders down, hating that he was being backed into a corner. ‘Let’s go over all the materials we have on Scarlett Reyes and Gina Harper. Perhaps we can even pay them each a visit this afternoon. But in addition to that . . .’ he quickly jotted a few key headings and dates on the whiteboard, before turning back to face the group, ‘it’s my intention to focus on Warren Turton. There’s good reason the initial investigators paid so much attention to him, and there’s a strong chance he’ll panic once news of Cecilia’s remains are confirmed. I want him under surveillance when that happens. We can’t afford to miss that opportunity.’

  The final property inspection for the day had finished early, and Scarlett left the apartment complex feeling oddly restless. Sitting in her car, she considered her options. Aside from meeting a girlfriend for a drink later that evening, she had nothing planned and the thought of heading straight home to her crammed unit was far from inviting.

  I could go to the gym . . . The thought dimmed as quickly as it appeared. Maybe get a manicure?

  She sighed, dropping her neck back against the headrest of her seat and staring at the roof of her car. Was this what her life had come to? Meaningless appointments created to fill the void? Also – she raised her right arm and scratched her fingers against the felted surface – what was that stain above her head? Coffee? Chocolate? How the heck did that get there?

  She sat up. Enough.

  Grabbing her phone from her handbag, she scrolled through her list of contacts. Most of her friends were utterly useless these days – married with kids, busy renovating their hideous McMansions out in the suburbs, or forging actual careers. At least Sophie, who she was meeting that night, had been decent enough to screw up her engagement to an overpaid stockbroker. So that was one friend she’d been able to claw back from the clutches of adulthood.

  Being thirty-seven and single was not at all like what the glossy magazines had promised. For the most part it was a rotating cycle of feeling hopeless and helpless; standing at the platform while everyone else took the express train through life, their greasy fingers waving back through smeared windows. Still – she stopped scrolling as she came across his name – there was one option. Scarlett’s heart began to pound. Should she?

  ‘Hello, Scar,’ his voice whispered in her ear before she’d even processed making the call. ‘I’ve been hoping to hear from you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since your little visit.’

  ‘You mean when you told me to clear off?’ She lowered her voice, deliberately pouty.

  ‘You know I didn’t mean it. I was just panicked. Stupid.’

  ‘How did you get my number?’

  ‘Online. It comes up on your real estate page.’

  Oh yeah. Duh. Scarlett twisted a stray strand of hair.

  ‘I mean it.’ His voice seemed to ripple through her entire body, goosebumps appearing on her arms. ‘I can’t get you out of my head. What are you up to?’

  ‘Just finished work.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘On a Saturday?’

  ‘A mate recommended me for a landscaping job in Carnegie. It was a bit of a drive but it paid well. Plus, I knew it would bring me a little closer to you.’

  Scarlett closed her eyes, giddy. It was like she’d gone back in time and was making the call from the kitchen in Blairgowrie, whispering into the handset as they planned their clandestine meetings, desperately hoping her dad wouldn’t wake up.

  ‘And now?’

  ‘About to head back to Rye. Unless you had a better option?’

  She rummaged through her handbag again, this time retrieving a heavy key chain. ‘How does an empty house with a plunge pool and spa sound?’

  ‘Like heaven,’ he whispered. ‘Text me the address. See you soon.’

  The drive was short but painfully slow, and Scarlett had to resist the urge to barge through a pedestrian crossing on which every weekend shopper in the world seemed to be dawdling. When she arrived, Dean was already there, his beat-up ute full of gardening supplies sitting conspicuously in the driveway of the impressive two-storey home.

  ‘Fancy,’ he whistled, eyeing the white brick exterior.

  ‘It belongs to my boss’s client and it’s been empty for ages – they’re asking over two million for it, and who’s got that kind of money these days? You’d have to be crazy.’

  ‘Our kind of crazy?’ Dean teased.

  The house was deadly silent when they entered, the heavy door that closed behind them blocking out any noise from the street. Scarlett led the way down the hallway, stopping to poke her head into one of the downstairs guest rooms. She flicked a light switch. ‘Lucky they’ve still got the power connected.’

  Two strong arms wrapped around her waist. ‘That bed looks comfy.’ Dean’s heavy breathing ran down her neck, his grip getting tighter.

  ‘Settle down.’ She pushed him away, turning off the light and continuing their expedition through the house.

  The back of the property opened to a large living area, with foldable doors revealing an outdoor dining space. The pool was around the side, hidden from neighbours by a vined brick wall. The spa sat adjacent, under a gazebo.

  ‘Last time I was here they even had a fridge stocked to show off to potential buyers.’ She stepped under the wooden structure. ‘Yes – we’re in luck. And there should be a power outlet that we can turn on somewhere.’

  ‘This switch?’ Dean hit a button, causing the pool and spa area to illuminate in a sparkle of fairy lights.

  Scarlett held up the bottle of Mumm she’d taken from the fridge, a nervous energy rushing through her. Am I really going to do this?

  She stared at Dean.

  Against the backdrop of the luxurious home, his usual roguish appearance seemed shabby: the garden overalls and heavy boots less attractive and more . . . what was the word she was after? Common? She hesitated.

  ‘Well, hurry up,’ he urged.

  Scarlett looked to the bottle, the expensive champagne she frequently saw at clients’ homes but had never tasted. He was common – but so was she.

  ‘Give me a second.’ She twisted the top, ripping the gold wrapping and enjoying the sensation of recklessness taking over. She marched towards Dean, bending down beside him and smacking the bottle’s neck against the edge of the spa. Pieces of glass scattered atop the ceramic tiles and into the water.

  ‘You could have just popped the cork,’ he smirked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Scarlett ran a finger along the top of the broken rim, finding an edge that wasn’t serrated and checking for any shards of glass, ‘but this is more us, isn’t it?’

  She gulped the liquid, the sharp bubbliness making her almost gasp for air.

  Dean took the bottle from her with one hand, using the other to pull her towards him. ‘Come here.’

  They tumbled into the water together, clinging to each other and clawing at their saturated clothes.

  ‘You should never have left me.’ He kissed her neck.

  ‘Shh.’ She dug her fingertips into his shoulder blades. ‘Don’t say any more. You don’t need to.’

  ‘No, I mean it,’ Dean murmured, pulling Scarlett further over him and grabbin
g at her bra hook. ‘She wasn’t worth it.’

  The words hung in the air, causing the two of them to freeze.

  A look of panic swept across Dean’s face. Scarlett hugged her arms into her chest, the cold air stinging against her wet body.

  ‘Shut up.’ She was first to recover, reaching to the champagne at the edge of the spa and thrusting the bottle at him. She helped him scull the last of the stupid drink.

  Then she focused all her attention on the man underneath her, doing everything she could to ignore the gnawing worries that threatened to break free in her mind, and the shrill sound of her phone, which rang from somewhere in the depths of her handbag left abandoned on the deck nearby.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Emmett watched as Gina Harper strode into the West Melbourne headquarters, the confident woman in dark jeans and a silk blouse a world away from the panicked teenager on police tapes. He ducked out of sight from the railing of the fourth-floor landing as she approached the first set of escalators.

  ‘Thank you for coming in.’ They shook hands as she entered the homicide lobby. ‘I imagine my call came as a bit of a shock.’

  Gina’s gaze penetrated him. ‘I suppose it was a surprise.’

  ‘Right, well, why don’t you come with me.’ Emmett led her to an interview room, where Bianca Tardio was waiting. ‘Can I get you anything. Tea? Coffee?’

  ‘A herbal tea would be good.’

  ‘Peppermint?’

  ‘Sure.’

  When he returned, Gina was sitting opposite Bianca, apparently lost in her own thoughts.

  ‘So how have you been, since the disappearance of your friend?’ Emmett asked, taking a seat next to his colleague.

  ‘I’ve been fine, nothing to complain about. I know it sounds cavalier, but it really does feel like all that happened in another lifetime.’ Gina’s glossed lips managed to move without the aid of the rest of her face, not a single line appearing on her flawless skin. ‘But of course I still think about Cecilia constantly, and I’m glad to hear there’s been progress on her case.’

  ‘Do you still keep in touch with your other schoolfriend, Scarlett Reyes?’

  ‘No,’ Gina chuckled, as though the possibility were preposterous. ‘My mother accepted a job in England rather soon after Cecilia’s disappearance, so my family moved to Oxford later that year. I think Scarlett and I might have attempted to be pen friends for a while, but you know how these things go.’

  ‘I see. And when did you return to Melbourne?’

  ‘Oh, sometime late 2012. My then-fiancé was offered a teaching role at Monash University, so it seemed like a good time to come home.’

  ‘He’s in academia?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And yourself?’

  ‘I’m a doctor – in dermatology.’

  ‘Why the change of name?’ Bianca’s husky voice was oddly comforting in contrast to the cold woman opposite.

  Gina smirked. ‘My mother had a flair for the theatrical, but Gypsy is hardly a name to be taken into adulthood, and certainly not through medical school. I dropped it as quickly as I could.’

  Emmett forced himself to smile. ‘Well, at any rate, we hoped to go through your memory of the night Cecilia May disappeared, if you’re comfortable doing that? I must stress that this is entirely voluntary, and we will be recording your interview if you consent.’

  ‘Of course. Anything that might help.’

  ‘Great. We have your original statements here.’ He pushed the papers across the table. ‘Have a read through those and then tell us if there’s anything you’d like to change or add. Anything at all that you think might be important.’

  Gina stayed silent as she perused the documents. When she was done, she fixed her gaze firmly at Emmett. ‘This all seems about right. I remember it was getting late and Cecilia wanted to go to bed, but Scarlett insisted we go out. We’d planned the night a few days in advance and had bought snacks from the general store to take with us. I think we’d had visions of holding a midnight picnic on the beach, or something like that.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘No. We never made it that far.’ Gina frowned, the first indication of any sadness at the memory. ‘We walked the same way we always did, taking the trail through the bush that came off the end of Koonya Avenue. But for some reason, about halfway along, we decided to go off the designated path. We had this silly idea about casting spells or something. Childish stuff, you know what teenage girls are like . . .’

  ‘Spells?’ Emmett darted a look at Bianca. It was the first he’d heard of anything like that.

  ‘Yes, just silly stuff.’ Gina waved a hand. ‘Using sticks for wands and chanting nonsense things. I couldn’t tell you exactly what we were doing. Probably just daring each other to be brave or something. Anyway, for whatever reason, we went off the marked trail and started going through the scrub itself. That’s when things went wrong.’

  Emmett waited to see if Gina would continue, but her unreadable expression, her body, even her recollection, it seemed, had frozen; locked in time. Beside him, Bianca leant forward.

  ‘What went wrong?’ the homicide detective prompted.

  Gina pursed her lips. ‘It sounds ridiculous, but there was an odd feeling that night. We all sensed it the moment we left the house. We should have gone back straight away, but we goaded each other on. There was . . .’ She paused, her eyes flicking between the two detectives, as though checking for their consent to say what she was about to. ‘There was an evil presence with us that night.’

  ‘An evil presence?’ Emmett repeated the words too quickly, and a flicker of annoyance flashed across the woman’s face.

  ‘We heard someone behind us as we were walking. Cecilia was the one who noticed it first and she wanted to go back. But Scarlett was being bossy, and I just wanted to keep the peace – those two were always butting heads.’

  ‘Scarlett and Cecilia didn’t get on?’ Bianca asked.

  ‘Well they did and they didn’t, if you know what I mean,’ Gina chuckled. ‘At times they were the best of friends, and at other times they were like opposing magnets. A personality clash, I suppose you could say.’

  ‘I see. And were they clashing that night?’

  Gina darted a look to the door before returning her attention to the detectives. ‘It’s hard to remember, but I think there was some sort of tension between them. I doubt it was anything serious though.’

  ‘Right. And how did you end up becoming separated?’ Emmett asked.

  ‘We had plans to make a fire. I volunteered to go and look for kindling, and that’s when I became lost.’

  Emmett nodded, but he still found the story implausible. ‘And what happened then? Did you call out to your friends? Try and find them?’

  ‘I think so. I must have, but I can’t really remember. I know I got disoriented and I started to think there was someone near me, hiding in the bushes. But looking back, it was probably just my imagination.’

  ‘And tell us what you heard,’ Bianca pressed. ‘In your original statement, you mentioned a scream?’

  ‘That’s right, I did. It was one of my friends. I think . . .’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Well, I can’t be sure. But it was piercing. I remember that.’

  ‘You also mentioned a neighbour,’ Emmett leant in. ‘You said that someone told you about the blood moon, and that that was why you initially decided to go out.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Gina nodded gently. ‘It was the old guy – at the general store where I mentioned we’d bought our supplies. Lovely fellow. I think he must have worked there every day of his life.’

  ‘This is the Koonya General Store?’ Bianca prodded, far more familiar with the area than Emmett.

  ‘Yeah, the historic one near the intersection, where all the tourists stop to take pictures. We used to blow all of our pocket money there on lollies and chips.’

  ‘Do you recall this man’s name?’

 
; ‘Henry?’ Gina’s lips pursed. ‘Harry?’ She shook her head. ‘It was so long ago.’

  ‘And what do you remember about this man?’ Bianca presented a photo of Warren Turton.

  Gina hesitated. ‘That was the guy who was arrested, wasn’t it? He lived up the street; a bit of a loner, if I recall correctly. I remember he was always watching us. Can’t remember his name though.’

  ‘Watching you?’ Emmett interrupted. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He was kind of always around. Whenever we were in the front yard or passing his house it felt like his eyes were upon us, and we definitely saw him out a lot. At the shops or by the beach. It was like he was always lurking.’

  ‘Did you see him on the night Cecilia disappeared?’

  ‘No.’ Gina shook her head, before appearing to remember something more. ‘Oh actually, yes we did.’ She clasped her hands before her. ‘He came out to speak to us as we left the house. He was quite worked up about us going out so late at night and seemed to take a particular interest in Cecilia. I remember thinking that was odd.’

  ‘A particular interest? What do you mean by that?’ Bianca asked.

  ‘He was sort of . . .’ Gina hesitated, ‘well he just seemed to focus on her. Addressed her as he was speaking. He actually got pretty angry about it all. Threatened to phone Scarlett’s father and dob us in for sneaking out.’

  ‘And did he?’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Gina laughed. ‘Scarlett got pretty crabby at that suggestion and started calling him all sorts of names. I think he decided it was better to let things be.’

  ‘Scarlett had a bit of a temper then, did she?’ Bianca pressed.

  ‘She was headstrong,’ Gina answered, diplomatically. ‘Liked things her way.’

  ‘Alright, and what about this?’ Bianca pushed another photo across the table. ‘Does this area look familiar to you?’

  Emmett watched Gina’s expression closely as she inspected the next image – the rocky crevice where the search team had discovered the haunting white skeleton.

  ‘Not really.’ Gina’s eyes barely blinked as she stared at the cliff face, her nostrils flared. ‘That could be any number of places along the coast. Why do you ask?’