by Perry, Kyle
‘MountainLion,’ said Yani.
‘No . . .’ moaned Murphy. He put the phone down on the desk and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t know.’
‘Tell Con why you left the group, Yani,’ said Gabriella.
‘Because . . . it was because of Denni King,’ said Yani. ‘We all thought she was getting better, like, her mental health, and then she . . .’
‘She was in this group?’ said Con, taking the phone back.
‘Yes. She was VoodooQueen,’ said Yani. ‘I wanted to go to the police, I wanted to tell them about how the club might’ve been part of Denni’s suicide, but then Madison found out . . . She has photos of me. Nude photos. She gets them from all the girls before they can join the Honcho Dori Club, as insurance. And then she shared one . . .’ Yani’s cheeks turned an even more brilliant red.
‘Does Madison have something over Jasmine?’ asked Murphy.
‘The same as the rest of us. Nudes. Secrets.’ Her voice grew hurried. ‘You can’t trust Madison. She’ll use anything against you. She kicked me out of the club, she started spreading rumours about me . . . I can’t defend myself, because if I do she’ll ruin my life . . .’ Tears rolled down her cheeks.
‘Yani, thank you. You’re doing something really brave and it’s going to help us a lot,’ said Con. ‘Gabriella, send me those screenshots and I’ll —’
‘No,’ said Gabriella.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Yani doesn’t trust anyone else to have them. Only me.’ Gabriella sounded apologetic, but Con could see right through it. ‘And since I’m not on the case anymore . . . I don’t have to do what you tell me.’
‘You got kicked off the case?’ said Murphy.
Con turned to Yani. ‘I need you to understand . . . if you don’t let us have those screenshots, we can’t look into this further.’
Yani glanced at Gabriella, then back to Con. ‘I can’t risk Madison finding out. I’d rather Detective Pakinga keep them.’
‘I’ve asked her too, detective, but Yani is seventeen and she can make her own choices,’ said Pastor Hugh, ‘But she’s agreed to answer any questions.’
‘I need more than that —’ began Con.
‘I didn’t know,’ Murphy said suddenly. ‘Jasmine never – I had no idea . . .’
‘No one’s blaming you,’ said Pastor Hugh. ‘There are plenty of ways to hide self-harm.’
Murphy turned to Con. ‘Are you going to take Madison down for this?’
‘No,’ shouted Yani. ‘You can’t tell her!’
‘But this could be why Jasmine went along with Madison’s plan to disappear!’
‘The what?’ said Pastor Hugh. ‘They planned it?’
‘There’s something else,’ said Gabriella. ‘Something important. But you have to take this seriously, Con.’
Con knew that tone of voice. His hackles rose.
‘Madison has another secret . . .’ said Yani. ‘She’s also . . . a witch.’
‘Oh for the love of —’ began Con.
‘Hear her out,’ interrupted Pastor Hugh. ‘Don’t dismiss everything you don’t understand.’
‘Madison turned all the girls into frogs and that’s why we can’t find them, got it,’ said Con.
‘Shut up, Con,’ snapped Gabriella. ‘Yani, go ahead.’
Yani swallowed, and when she spoke, her voice trembled. ‘M-Madison was trying to s-summon the Hungry Man.’
‘This just gets better and better,’ said Con.
‘Yes, it does, Con,’ spat Gabriella, standing up. ‘Because Madison knew about a ritual to summon the Hungry Man.’
‘You actually believe this, don’t you?’ Con laughed again.
‘Madison does!’ said Yani, suddenly louder than both of them. ‘She’s obsessed with the Hungry Man. She thinks he’s linked to the gateways in the mountains, the portals the Aboriginal people used.’
‘This is madness. What the hell is wrong with this town?’ shouted Con.
‘Easy, detective,’ said Pastor Hugh.
‘What does the ritual require?’ said Murphy, leaning forward. ‘Do you know?’
‘No, but apparently there’s a way to protect yourself. Madison told us the second part to the Hungry Man rhyme. It goes:
‘If you see the Hungry Man’s face,
he’ll never allow you to escape.
If you want to stay awake,
these three things you first must make:
carve a face and blind its eyes,
bind its throat with thread and twine,
and spend a night in the trees alone,
confess your sins, pray to atone,
then hang a girl from a tree to die,
and the Hungry Man will pass you by.’
‘I told you, bloody madness,’ snarled Con, standing up. ‘Let’s go, Murphy, we don’t need to get wrapped up in this.’
‘Con, I think that’s why Denni King killed herself,’ said Gabriella. ‘That’s why she arranged for Madison to find her. It was part of the ritual! Remember what Eliza said? Denni was obsessed with the Hungry Man.’
‘We all thought she was getting better,’ said Yani. ‘But she was always protective and caring – it’d make sense if she thought she was protecting her friends by —’
‘No. No, I don’t want to hear this, Gabriella,’ said Con. ‘This is real life. There is no Hungry Man.’
‘Think about what Eliza experienced up there,’ said Gabriella, poking Con in the chest. ‘The shoes. Dorrie Dossett. The yowie. There’s so many weird things about this case, Con, you need to open your mind up.’
‘And you believe this too?’ said Con, turning to Pastor Hugh.
‘I know that there are demonic forces all around us that we don’t understand, that would love to trick us into doing terrible things. And I know that Madison is a very twisted girl. Who knows what she’s opened herself up to?’
Con looked at Murphy. ‘I need to get back to real investigating to find your daughter.’ He walked to the door. For a moment he thought Murphy was going to balk, but then he followed Con outside.
‘If you don’t look into this, I will,’ Gabriella shouted after them. ‘Stay out of my way!’
Con kept walking, muttering under his breath. Murphy stayed silent as they climbed into the car, and it wasn’t until they were driving away that he asked, ‘Why did you freak out about that?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Didn’t know you could lose your cool like that,’ said Murphy. ‘You don’t even realise you’re shouting, do you?’
‘I’m not . . .’ Con took a deep breath. ‘I’m not shouting.’
‘You lost it in there. Why? It’s not completely crazy for this to be part of some stupid teenage delusion about the Hungry Man, is it? I mean, I can see how it would be good for Madison’s online thing.’
‘It’s ridiculous.’
‘But why does it upset you that much?’ said Murphy.
Con focused on the road. By the time they pulled up at Murphy’s house, Con felt the first prickles of shame at his outburst, but the faces of the Jaguar girls wouldn’t leave his mind.
‘You owe me the truth,’ said Murphy. ‘Why won’t you look into this?’
‘Alright!’ Con threw up his hands. ‘Alright. I worked a case in Sydney . . . a number of girls were tortured to death. It was ritualistic. Everyone in the investigation got wrapped up in all the stupid supernatural shit involved in the rituals, me included, and we missed the obvious evidence and leads that come from good police work. We missed . . . There were girls we could have saved. I just don’t want to make that mistake again.’
‘So that’s why you lost your shit,’ said Murphy.
‘I am well and truly in possession of my shit, thank you. I’m saying I have experience with ritual killings, and this feels different!’
‘Easy, mate. If you say so. You’re the detective,’ said Murphy, climbing out of the car.
Co
n sped off the curve, driving back to his hotel in silence. The Jaguar girls rolled through his mind and he could see their wounds afresh.
Con walked into his room and stopped cold.
The TV was playing soft chatter, as was his radio, but that was normal: he’d left them on. But the position of his medication bottles was not normal.
He turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him.
By the time he reached the reception desk, he was quivering.
‘Yeah?’ said the woman behind the counter.
‘I’m in room Sassafras 5. I requested a permanent “Do Not Disturb” status, but someone has been in my room.’
‘Hang on.’ She tapped at her computer. ‘Yeah, the alert is still on here. None of our lot would’ve gone in.’
‘Well, someone did.’
‘And I said it wouldn’t have been anyone on our staff. Did you give your key to anyone?’
Con slammed his hands on the desk. ‘Where is the manager?’
‘Listen, handsome,’ she replied, leaning forward, ‘we have enough rooms to clean around here without going into those of blokes who obviously think they’re better at it than us.’
He left. The tension in his shoulders and neck was building. He walked back to his room and locked the door behind him.
He looked again – his medication bottles were all facing the wrong direction.
You’re losing it, Cornelius, he told himself angrily. No one has touched your stuff.
He stripped naked and walked into the shower.
The hot water on his back was soothing, the steam filling the room, the sound of the fan buzzing above him. He put his head against the tiled wall and closed his eyes. It helped him relax a little, but he still couldn’t think clearly. His thoughts wouldn’t enter their boxes; he couldn’t arrange everything into a list.
Georgia’s body appeared in his mind. Broken, at the foot of a cliff, a life snuffed out forever.
How? Did you fall? Were you pushed? Did you jump?
He hadn’t even thought to ask whether Georgia had been part of the Honcho Dori Club. He’d have to ask Gabriella. She’d make him pay for it, but she’d give him the answer.
I can’t let the commander find out Gabriella’s still involved.
Maybe Georgia did jump. Maybe the pressure she put on herself to build the museum was too much. If she was in this Honcho Dori Club, she must have struggled with self-harm . . .
Self-harm group. A ritual. Hang a girl from a tree to die. Why is it always a girl who has to die?
Eliza’s chilling account came back to him. What Georgia thought she’d seen. Maybe Georgia was chased off the cliff?
The Hungry Man. A man the size of a bear . . .
The Jaguar himself had been a big man.
No. He’s dead. It’s not him, thought Con. Big breath; slow release.
Georgia’s body appeared again in his mind. This time, others seemed to be lying alongside hers. Mottled purple faces, swollen limbs, staring eyes, gaping mouths. The Jaguar girls.
Con’s stomach lurched. Get back into your boxes! He crouched down to his knees, heaving into the plughole.
He beat his head softly against the tiled wall, breathing through his mouth. He had to be strong: it was up to him to find Jasmine, Cierra, Bree.
And Madison was the key to it all.
A ritual . . . a secret club that glorifies self-harm . . . all of this for her YouTube subscribers . . . Denni King’s death . . . a witch.
Madison is a witch. She summoned him.
The Hungry Man.
The Jaguar girls appeared again in the shadows of his mind, their eyes open. Are you sure monsters don’t exist? they seemed to ask. Are. You. Sure?
He turned the water off abruptly. He stood there, dripping, the steam dispersing into the fan.
The Jaguar girls peered down at him. Georgia joined them.
You didn’t solve it fast enough.
You never solve it fast enough.
He wrapped the towel around his waist and headed to his bed, grabbing his laptop from the desk. The sound of the radio and TV was like a balm on his mind. These days he always needed the sound of human voices in the background. It calmed his anxiety at being alone.
He opened his laptop and started writing down thoughts as they appeared in his mind, trying to force them into boxes:
JASMINE MURPHY –
DAUGHTER OF A DRUG DEALER = RANSOM/BLACKMAIL?
CIERRA MASON –
SEXUAL ABUSE = ELIZA ELLIS IS PROTECTING SOMEONE
GEORGIA LENAH –
ABORIGINAL HISTORY MUSEUM
BREE WILKINS –
PTS???
Jasmine was the most obvious target, as some sort of leverage against Murphy. If Sergeant Doble really was corrupt, Con still couldn’t believe he had been allowed so much freedom in the town. He needed to tell the commander – unless he really just didn’t understand Tasmania? Just because Doble had an alibi, it didn’t mean he didn’t have an accomplice who took Jasmine. But to what end would he have done that, really? There had been no demands made of Murphy, no contact at all.
Cierra Mason was also a possible target. Con didn’t believe Eliza Ellis had slept with her, but the person she was protecting . . . Con suspected it was Tom North, but he had an alibi too. And why take the other two girls? Why kill Georgia?
This was the question he kept coming back to: why would anyone take three girls and kill one? Did the kidnapper need four girls, or want four girls, and something went wrong? Had the kidnapper wanted just one of them, and the others had to be taken out as witnesses? Would any of the four girls have done?
He thought again of Carl Lenah. He was still on the run, and with cops like Doble around, no wonder. In an ideal world, he’d throw more resources towards finding him, but they could only do so much. His instincts told him not to waste time on Carl Lenah.
When it came to directing resources, he needed to find out more about Bree. He hadn’t even spoken to her parents himself, except briefly on the day of the disappearance, up at the trail. Detective Coops had spoken with her father, Marcus Wilkins, and then also spoke to her mother later. The report hadn’t said much, so Con hadn’t looked into it any further. He couldn’t be everywhere at once, he barely had time to think as it was. He had learned to set limits, otherwise he overreached and made mistakes . . .
But was he missing something? He needed to gather more information about Bree. Did post-traumatic stress come into it? Did she snap and kill Georgia? No, that’s not how mental illness works. People rarely just snap and commit murder, that only happens in movies.
Was he dodging Bree because he didn’t want any uncomfortable questions about post-traumatic stress coming up?
Unless drugs are involved, then people can snap. Are drugs involved?
Cannabis was, but anything harder? When he’d first met Murphy, the man had clearly been under the influence of something else. He could see it in his eyes, in his reaction speed, and then in how he lost it and lashed out at the SES worker.
Murphy had mentioned Jack having ice debts. The teacher’s assistant definitely needed more attention too, but he was currently in a medically induced coma.
Murphy was in the box for people who weren’t suspects. Currently he was the only person in that box.
What about Eliza? Which box should she go in? Surely she wasn’t a suspect, but she’d known about Madison’s plan and hadn’t done anything. Why was she protecting Tom? Was she hiding anything else? He needed to speak with her again.
Bloody hell, there was so much to do! He couldn’t be everywhere!
Did one of the girls kill the others and they just hadn’t found all the bodies yet? How did the Honcho Dori Club come into it? What about the girls’ plan to disappear?
Maybe whoever killed Georgia knew in advance they were going to try and disappear . . . Lawful Evil, Madison . . . or it was motivated by something else, even random . . . Chaotic Evil . . .
Maybe the H
ungry Man really is the most logical answer . . .
He opened a new webpage and typed into the search bar: 1985 Great Western Tiers disappearances.
He began to read. He couldn’t get the stupid rhyme out of his head. That was probably why he kept thinking he saw faces at the window. Those lights out there in the woods were surely just the torches of the search team.
That night, when they came, the nightmares were fierce.
CHAPTER 34
CON
It was morning, and the rain had cleared, but mist clung to the summits of the Tiers.
Con and Commander Agatha Normandy sat across from Madison in a quiet room at the police station, Nelly Mason seated beside her daughter. It was the room usually reserved for difficult meetings with mourning family or for social work sessions. The couches were comfortable, the lighting gentle, a window looked out onto the street and the Tiers beyond.
‘I’ve already told you what I saw,’ said Madison. Her face was drawn and her whole body shook: she looked unwell. Even her deep red hair seemed to have lost some of its shine and the make-up didn’t hide the bags under her eyes. Her sleeveless green jumpsuit, at least, looked elegant. ‘You’ve already got the bitch: why can’t you find my sister?’
Nelly Mason held Madison’s hand, her eyes empty as she looked at the floor. Con wondered if she was even aware of where she was.
‘I’m sorry, dear, we just need to ask some further questions,’ said Agatha.
Madison folded her bare arms, but still kept a hold of her mother’s hand. ‘What else do you need to know?’
‘You told us that you caught Miss Ellis in your sister’s room, is that right?’ said Agatha. ‘Can you run me through the details again?’
Madison folded her arms tighter. ‘I already talked about this —’
‘I know. But it will help if I hear the details directly from you, in case I have questions.’ Agatha smiled.
Madison rolled her eyes. ‘We were home alone. Mum and Dad had gone away for the weekend. It was late at night, I was in my room editing videos, and Mr Bruiser started going psycho. He ran towards Cierra’s room. She wouldn’t open the door, but I thought she might’ve been in danger so I forced my way in, and that’s when I saw Miss Ellis by the open window, in her dressing gown. There were all these empty beer bottles, and it stank of weed. Cierra . . . wasn’t wearing much.’ Madison’s cheeks reddened.
