by Jane Harper
Carmen held her phone in her hand. She’d been trying to get through to Margot’s dad. ‘What about Lauren’s place?’ she said finally. ‘Just a thought. It’s only for one night. At least she’s aware of the photo situation.’
‘Yeah, maybe,’ Falk said.
‘Okay.’ Carmen glanced up the stairs. ‘You try to call Lauren. I’m going to have a chat with Margot about where her mother might keep confidential documents.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes now. It might be the only chance we get.’
Get the contracts. Get the contracts.
‘Yeah. Okay.’
Carmen disappeared up the stairs and Falk took out his phone, wandering back into the kitchen as he dialled the number. Outside the large windows, the afternoon was already growing dark. The cloud patterns were reflected in the smooth surface of the pool.
He leaned against the kitchen counter and stared at a cork noticeboard on the wall as he put the phone to his ear. A number of a handyman had been pinned to the board, alongside a recipe for something called quinoa power balls written in Alice’s handwriting. There was an invitation to the Endeavour Ladies’ College awards night which had come and gone last Sunday, the same day Alice was reported missing. A receipt for a pair of shoes. An Executive Adventures leaflet with the weekend’s dates scribbled across the top.
Falk leaned in a little closer. On the cover of the leaflet, he could make out Ian Chase in the back row of a group staff shot. Chase was turned a little away from the camera, partially obscured by the colleague to his right.
The phone line was still ringing in his ear and his eyes wandered to a number of framed photo collages lining the kitchen walls. The pictures were all of Alice and her daughter, separately or together. Many of the shots mirrored each other – Alice and Margot as babies, on their first days of school, at dances, lying by pools in bikinis.
In Falk’s ear, the ringing stopped and went through to Lauren’s voicemail. He swore silently and left a message asking her to call him as soon as possible.
As he hung up he leaned in to look more closely at the nearest collage. A partly faded image had caught his eye. It was an outdoor shot in a setting that reminded him a little of the Giralang Ranges. Alice was wearing a t-shirt and shorts bearing the Endeavour Ladies’ College logo, and was standing beside a raging river, head up, kayak paddle in her hand and a smile on her face. Behind her, a group of damp-haired, rosy-cheeked girls were crouched by the vessel. Falk’s gaze snagged on the girl at the end, and he made a small noise of surprise. Lauren, he realised. The pinched look she wore now was buried beneath a layer of puppy fat, but like Alice, she was still entirely recognisable, especially around the eyes. That photo must be thirty years old, he thought. It was interesting how little they’d both changed.
His mobile trilled loudly in his hand, and he jumped. He looked at the screen – Lauren – and forced himself back to the present.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked as soon as he answered. ‘Have they found her?’
‘No, shit, I’m sorry. It’s not about Alice,’ Falk said, kicking himself. He should have made that clear in his message. ‘We’ve got a problem with her daughter. She needs somewhere to stay for tonight.’ He explained about the online images.
There was such a long silence, Falk wondered if they’d been disconnected. Playground politics were something of a mystery to him, but as he listened to the dead air, he wondered just how fast the school mums would move to distance their offspring from Margot.
‘She’s not handling it too well,’ he said finally. ‘Especially with everything with her mum.’
Another silence, shorter this time.
‘You’d better bring her around.’ Lauren sighed. ‘Jesus. These girls. I swear, they will eat themselves alive.’
‘Thank you.’ Falk hung up and headed down the hall. Opposite the stairs, a door opened onto a study. Carmen was sitting behind a desk staring at the home computer. She looked up as Falk entered.
‘Margot gave me the password.’ Her voice was low and he shut the door behind him.
‘Anything?’
Carmen shook her head. ‘Not that I can find. I’m searching blind, though. Even if Alice did save anything useful on here, she could have called the files anything, put them in any directory. We’ll need to get the permits in place to take this away. Get it searched properly.’ She sighed and looked up. ‘What did Lauren say?’
‘She said yes. Eventually. She wasn’t too keen though.’
‘Why, because of the photos?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe partly. Maybe not though, it sounded before like she has enough trouble with her own kid.’
‘Yeah, that’s true. She won’t be the first or last to judge Margot over this though, you watch.’ Carmen glanced at the closed door and lowered her voice. ‘Please do not tell Margot I said that.’
Falk shook his head. ‘I’ll go and let her know the plan.’
Margot’s bedroom door was open and he could see the girl sitting on her hot pink carpet. She had a small suitcase open in front of her. It was completely empty. She was staring down into her lap at her phone and she jumped as Falk knocked on the doorframe.
‘We’ve arranged for you to stay at Lauren Shaw’s tonight,’ Falk said, and Margot looked up in surprise.
‘Really?’
‘Just for tonight. She knows what’s going on.’
‘Will Rebecca be there?’
‘Her daughter? Probably. Is that okay?’
Margot picked at the corner of her suitcase. ‘Just that I haven’t seen them in a while. Does Rebecca know what’s happened?’
‘I imagine her mum will tell her.’
Margot looked like she wanted to say something, but shook her head. ‘That’s fair enough, I suppose.’
There was something about the way she said it. Daughter’s mouth, mother’s voice. Falk blinked, again feeling strangely unnerved.
‘Okay. Well. It’s only for one night.’ He gestured at the empty case. ‘Pack a couple of things and we’ll drive you over.’
Distracted, Margot reached out and grabbed two garish lace bras from a pile on the floor. She held them in her hand, then looked up, watching him watching her. Something flickered across her face. A test.
He kept his eyes firmly on hers, his expression completely blank.
‘We’ll wait for you in the kitchen,’ he said, feeling a wave of relief as he shut the door on the cloying pink room. When had teenage girls become so sexualised? Had they been like that at his age? Probably, he thought, except back then he had been all in favour of it. At that age, a lot of things seemed like harmless fun.
Day 3: Saturday Afternoon
For once, Beth was sorry when the rain stopped.
While it had been drumming down on the cabin roof, it had been difficult to talk. The five women had spread themselves out around the larger of the two rooms and stayed that way as the late afternoon wind blew in through the missing windows. It wasn’t actually a lot warmer inside than out, Beth admitted privately, but at least it was mostly dry. She was glad they had stayed. When the rain eventually petered out, the silence draped itself thick and heavy around the cabin.
Beth shifted, feeling a little claustrophobic. She could see one edge of the mattress in the other room. ‘I’m going to take a look around outside.’
‘I’ll come,’ Bree said. ‘I need the loo.’
Lauren stirred herself. ‘Me too.’
Outside, the air was crisp and damp. As Beth pulled the cabin door shut behind her, she heard Alice mutter something inaudible to Jill. Whatever she’d said, Jill didn’t reply.
Bree was pointing across the small clearing. ‘Oh my God, is that literally an outhouse?’
The tiny shack stood some distance away, its roof rotted and one side open to the elements.
‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ Lauren said. ‘It’ll be a hole in the ground.’
Beth watched her sister pick her way through the overgro
wth to the ramshackle structure. Bree peered inside and recoiled with a squeal. The sisters caught each other’s eye and laughed for what felt to Beth like the first time in days. Years even.
‘Oh, God. Just, no,’ Bree called.
‘Shitty?’
‘Spidery. Don’t do it to yourself. Some things can’t be unseen. I’ll take my chances in the bush.’
She turned and disappeared among the trees. Lauren managed a smile and tramped off in the opposite direction, leaving Beth alone. The light was already fading, the sky turning a deeper grey.
They had been lucky to find the cabin at all, Beth realised now the rain had cleared. There were two or three gaps in the trees that might once have been trails, but nothing that encouraged visitors to discover the clearing. Beth felt suddenly edgy and glanced around for the others. They were nowhere to be seen. Birds cried to each other above her head, high-pitched and urgent, but when she looked up they were all hidden from sight.
Beth reached into her pocket for her cigarettes. She’d found the pack submerged in a puddle after Alice had thrown it. It had been ruined, soaked through by the dirty water, but she hadn’t wanted to give Alice the satisfaction of admitting it.
Her fingers wrapped around the edge of the box, the sharp corners now soggy, and she felt the clamouring call of nicotine. She opened the pack and checked yet again that the cigarettes were beyond saving. The damp smell of tobacco sparked something in her and all at once it was unbearable to have them so near and yet so far. She felt like crying. Of course she didn’t want to be an addict. Not to the cigarettes, or to anything else.
Beth hadn’t even known she was pregnant when she’d miscarried. She’d sat in the sterile room in the university’s medical clinic while the doctor explained that it was not uncommon within the first twelve weeks. She probably hadn’t been very far along. And there was very little she could have done to avoid it. Sometimes these things happened.
Beth had nodded. The thing was, she’d explained in a small voice, she’d been out drinking. Most weekends. Some weekdays. She had been one of the only girls doing her computer science degree at the time and the guys on the course were good fun. They were young and smart and they all planned to invent the next big dot com thing, become millionaires and retire by thirty. But until that happened, they liked to drink and dance and take soft drugs and stay out late and flirt with the girl who, at age twenty, still looked a lot like her eye-catching twin sister. And Beth had enjoyed those things too. Maybe, in hindsight, a little too much.
She had confessed to all her vices that day under the bright lights of the sterile clinic room. The doctor had shaken his head. It had probably made no difference. Probably? Almost certainly. But not definitely? It had almost certainly made no difference, he had said and handed her an information pamphlet.
It was for the best anyway, she’d thought on the way out of the clinic, clutching her pamphlet. She had dropped it in the first rubbish bin she passed. She wouldn’t give it another thought. And there was no point telling anyone. Not now. Bree wouldn’t understand anyway. It was fine. It wasn’t like she could miss something she hadn’t even known she’d had.
She had planned to go straight home, but the thought of her student flat seemed a bit lonely. So she’d got off the bus and gone to the bar, met the boys. For one drink, then a few more, because it wasn’t like she had a reason to avoid alcohol or the odd narcotic, was it? It was a bit late for that now, wasn’t it? And when she’d woken up the next morning, and her head was aching and her mouth was dry, she hadn’t really minded. That was the one good thing about a decent hangover. It didn’t leave much room to feel anything else.
Now, Beth looked out at the surrounding bushland and squeezed the damp cigarette packet in her hand. She knew the group was in the shit. They all knew they were in the shit. But as long as Beth had been able to smoke, it had felt like a thread linking her with civilisation. And now Alice had ruined even that. With a rush of anger, Beth closed her eyes and hurled the cigarette packet into the undergrowth. When she opened her eyes, it was gone. She couldn’t see where it had landed.
A gust of wind blew across the clearing and Beth shivered. The sticks and leaves around her feet were damp. No easy firewood there. She thought back to that first night, when Lauren had checked around for dry kindling. Beth scratched her palm, empty without its cigarette packet, and looked back at the cabin. It had a lean to it, with the tin roof jutting out at one side more than the other. It probably wasn’t enough to keep the ground dry beneath, but it was the best chance she could see.
As Beth made her way back towards the cabin, she could hear voices coming from inside.
‘I’ve already said, the answer’s no.’ Stress clipped Jill’s words short.
‘I’m not asking your permission.’
‘Hey, you need to remember your place, lady.’
‘No, Jill. You need to open your eyes and take a good look around. We’re not at work now.’
A pause. ‘I am always at work.’
Beth took a step closer and all of a sudden felt herself stumbling as the ground disappeared beneath her boot. She landed heavily on her palms, her ankle twisting under her. She looked down, the groan in her chest rising to a shriek when she saw what she had landed on.
The sound cut through the air, silencing the birdcall. There was a shocked stillness from the cabin, then two faces appeared in the window. Beth heard footsteps running up behind her as she scrambled away, her twisted ankle throbbing in protest as it bumped along the ground.
‘Are you okay?’ Lauren was first to reach her, with Bree close behind. The faces vanished from the window and a moment later, Jill and Alice were outside. Beth hauled herself to her feet. Her fall had scattered a pile of dead leaves and forest debris, exposing a shallow but distinct dip in the ground.
‘There’s something in there.’ Beth heard her voice crack.
‘What?’ Alice said.
‘I don’t know.’
With an impatient noise, Alice stepped forward and skimmed her boot across the dip, sweeping the leaves aside. Collectively, the women leaned forward, then almost instantly back. Only Alice remained in place, staring down. Small and yellow and partly covered by mud, even to an untrained eye they were unmistakable. Bones.
‘What is that?’ Bree whispered. ‘Please tell me it’s not a child.’
Beth reached out and took her twin’s hand. It felt surprisingly unfamiliar. She was relieved when Bree didn’t pull away.
Alice swept her foot across the hole again, clearing more leaves from the space. She was more hesitant this time, Beth noticed. Alice’s toe caught something hard, sending it skittering a short way through the leaves. Her shoulders visibly tensed, then slowly she bent and picked it up. Her face froze, then she made a small noise of relief.
‘Jesus,’ she said. ‘It’s okay. It’s only a dog.’
She held up a small rotten cross, clumsily fashioned from two uneven pieces of wood nailed together. Across the centre, in letters so old they were barely legible, someone had carved: Butch.
‘How can you be sure it’s a dog?’ Beth’s voice didn’t quite sound like her own.
‘Would you call your child Butch?’ Alice glanced at Beth. ‘Or maybe you would. Either way, this doesn’t look exactly human.’ She pointed her toe at what appeared to be a partly exposed skull. Beth looked. It did look a bit like a dog. She supposed. She wondered how it died but didn’t ask the question out loud.
‘Why isn’t it properly buried?’ she said instead.
Alice crouched next to the hole. ‘The soil probably eroded away. It looks shallow.’
Beth itched for a cigarette. Her eyes darted across the tree line. It all looked exactly the same as it had minutes ago. Still, her skin prickled with the unsettling sensation of being observed. She dragged her eyes away from the trees and tried to focus on something else. On the movement of the blowing leaves, on the cabin, on the clearing –
‘What is that?’
<
br /> Beth pointed beyond the shallow hole containing the lonely dog. The others followed her gaze and Alice slowly stood up.
The depression sank into the earth beside the cabin wall in an apologetic curve. The hollow was so gentle, it was almost like it wasn’t there at all. The grass covering it was damp and windswept and a shade different from the growth on the other side. The difference was just enough, Beth felt instantly sure, to suggest that the earth had once been disturbed. There was no cross this time.
‘It’s bigger.’ Bree sounded ready to cry. ‘Why is it bigger?’
‘It’s not bigger. It’s nothing.’ Beth’s thoughts were scrambling to backtrack. It was nothing but a natural dip, probably erosion or soil shift, or something to do with some sort of science. What did she know about grass regrowth? Absolutely bugger-all.
Alice was still holding the wooden cross. She had a strange look on her face.
‘I’m not trying to cause trouble,’ she said, her voice oddly subdued, ‘but what was the name of Martin Kovac’s dog?’
Beth sucked in a breath. ‘Don’t bloody joke –’
‘I’m not – no, Beth, shut up, I’m not – everyone try to think. Do you remember? Years ago when it was all happening. He had that dog that he used to lure hikers and –’
‘Shut up! That’s enough!’ Jill’s voice was shrill.
‘But –’ Alice turned to Lauren. ‘You remember, don’t you? On the news? When we were at school. What was the dog’s name? Was it Butch?’
Lauren was looking at Alice like she’d never seen her before. ‘I don’t remember. He might have had a dog. Lots of people have dogs. I don’t remember.’ Her face was white.
Beth, still holding her sister’s hand, felt a warm tear fall onto her wrist. She turned to Alice and felt a wave of emotion. Fury, not fear, she told herself.
‘You are such a manipulative bitch. How dare you? Scaring everyone to death because you didn’t get your own way for once in your bloody life! You should be ashamed!’
‘I’m not! I –’
‘You are!’
The words rang out through the bushland.
