Found

by Melissa Pouliot

  ‘No thanks,’ Ant said smoothly, charming the waitress with his smile as he continued to caress Christine under the table. ‘We’re heading off. Great coffee, nice muffins.’

  ‘Thanks,’ the waitress returned his flirting gaze, noticing that although he was older than her and a little on the paunchy side, he possessed a sexy kind of charm she couldn’t resist. ‘Just pay on your way out, see you next time.’

  ‘Sure will, great place. Definitely coming again.’ He put the emphasis on the word coming, noticing a rise in the moistness level as he pushed and probed within Christine’s folds. The waitress gone, he leaned in close and whispered as he brought her to the edge again, ‘Don’t come. Save it, for later.’

  Christine was like putty in his hands. She couldn’t help it. He smelt so good. Felt so good. Looked so good. He pulled his fingers out and she spent a few seconds getting herself together. He looped his sticky fingers around hers and brought their hands up to his lips, kissing each fingertip softly. ‘Mmm, you smell good,’ he murmured. ‘Let’s get out of here. Now.’

  She giggled as he paid, then followed him out the door like a love-sick puppy. He walked her to his recently-repaired Harley. She looked at him wryly as he handed her a spare helmet.

  ‘Pretty well up yourself aren’t you?’ she laughed, as she jammed the helmet over her head. It fit perfectly, like it was meant to be.

  ‘No crime in wishful thinking,’ he said, helping with the clip under her chin. ‘You know how long I’ve dreamed about having you on the back of my bike riding off into the sunset?’

  ‘It’s still morning,’ she teased. ‘We’re a long way off sunset.’

  ‘Yeah but by the time I’m finished with you, it will be well and truly sunset,’ he said as he swung his leg over, waiting for her to follow. She clambered on and pulled herself in close against his back, nuzzling into him and wrapping her arms around snugly. ‘I thought we were meeting to talk about Annabelle,’ she protested weakly.

  ‘We are, but we’ve got unfinished business of our own to deal with first,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Hang on tight, Babe, this is going to be one hell of a ride!’

  ‘You’re so fucking corny,’ she laughed again.

  He threw his head back. ‘Yeah, that was pretty corny I admit. Thought I was Maverick and you were Charlie for a minute there. All we need now is an airport runway.’

  ‘Stuck in the eighties again.’

  ‘Yep, stuck in the eighties.’ Ant gunned the bike and pulled away from the curb in a roar of fumes and lust, while she held on tight, just like the song And we danced which Annabelle used to sing with tears in her eyes.

  CHAPTER 25

  No trace

  Louise was no closer to finding Carl. It was as though he had never existed in Kings Cross. Nobody, absolutely nobody, had any memory of when he arrived and when he left. If she hadn’t found his family she would have wondered if he actually existed at all. The family hadn’t heard from him for years. They couldn’t pin point specific dates or times and his Mum slammed the door in Louise’s face with the words, ‘Couldn’t give a fuck if he’s dead or alive, the useless cruel cunt that he was.’ Nice, Louise thought to herself as she stood, shocked, facing the peeling paint on the front door of their public housing home in Mt Druitt. Classy.

  She made Rafe a cup of coffee as an excuse for being in his office without an invitation. She knocked gently.

  ‘Excuse me Detective, but I wonder if I could run something past you?’

  Rafe gave an approving nod for her to enter and accepted the steaming cup. He took a tentative sip, thinking English girls could only make tea, but it was perfect.

  ‘Sure, shoot.’

  She resisted the urge to pull him up on his cliche. Shoot?

  ‘It’s about the Annabelle Brown case.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ he said. ‘You seem to be spending quite a bit of time on it.’

  Louise couldn’t work out if he was criticising her or just making a comment. She pushed on.

  ‘I’m trying to locate that Carl. You know the one I was telling you about who is mentioned on the file? There are no medical records, he hasn’t collected the dole since 1988, hasn’t been to a hospital or claimed any sort of government benefit that we can trace. Doesn’t have a bank account, isn’t on the electoral roll. He’s not on any missing persons’ files, but he probably wouldn’t be because his family isn’t actually looking for him. He has a juvenile police record but that was a long time ago. I can’t find any record of his death either. It’s like he has fallen off the earth. He is a ghost.’

  ‘So what you are saying is that you feel you’ve exhausted all avenues?’

  Louise hesitated before answering. ‘All obvious avenues. I wouldn’t say all avenues. I keep thinking he might be in the Bone Room but then I don’t have any files to match him with.’

  ‘Well, start one.’

  ‘Easy as that?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. He did exist, at some stage, we are sure of that. His name has come up more than once, so he is a person of interest. Start the file, then fill it.’

  ‘But there’s nothing to fill it with,’ Louise protested.

  ‘I disagree. One thing you need to remember is that a lot of the time these cases are made up of ninety percent of how you eliminated possible leads and only ten percent of how you solved the case. Have you arranged to get DNA from his Mum?’

  Louise blushed. She’d been so rattled by the visit to his mother’s house that asking for a DNA test was the last thing on her mind.

  ‘No, not as yet. She wasn’t very happy to see me. I got the impression she’s not a huge fan of the police. Or of her son. She shut the door in my face. Actually, she slammed it. After she said the ‘c’ word. I just went to custard after that.’

  ‘I see,’ Rafe resisted the urge to smile; he’d never heard that expression before. She was so very, very English. ‘We need to get back there, I’ll come with you.’

  Rafe grabbed the keys from the hook near the door. ‘I’ll drive.’

  Louise went to protest, again, but instead she fell into line behind and let him take the lead. She felt like a complete goose for the oversights she made. Just when her self-confidence started to build, something would remind her just how much she had to learn. As she followed Rafe to the car the adrenalin started to pump through her veins, and she kicked her self-pity into the gutter. She was going to make sure this cold case, which had been cold for so long, heated to boiling point.

  CHAPTER 26

  Falling apart

  Christine felt disgusted, ashamed, of the day she’d spent with Ant. She thought the best way get her head together was to focus harder on perfecting her normal routine. Up early, on the train, work, back on the train, home, dinner with Danny, sex with Danny, then the spoon position with Danny. Repeat.

  Ant had different ideas. He messaged her incessantly, unable to get her out of his mind.

  ‘When can I see you?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s a bit hard for me to get away at the moment.’

  ‘Can I come to the city, meet you for lunch?’

  ‘I don’t have a lunch break.’

  ‘I’ll meet you on the train.’

  ‘Don’t meet me on the train.’

  ‘Don’t you want to see me?’

  ‘Yes, I do. But I can’t.’

  ‘Why can’t you?’

  ‘Because I’ve got a life. I’ve got Danny. I can’t just go racing back into a past life and expect that past meets present and everyone lives happily ever after.’

  No reply. Christine held her breath while she waited for Messenger to indicate a reply had come through. Nothing.

  Danny was at a work function tonight, celebrating the pickup of the new series they’d been working on. Some crime series, it was going to be the next big thing. A checkout chick with a dangerous past gets caught up in a murder at a bus stop with a straight uptight OCD young accountant, and they end up on the run with all sorts
of people chasing them.

  Christine’s eyes glazed over after Danny explained the first episode. She had very little interest in commercial television. Books were her thing. And podcasts. Mamamia Out Loud, which had just launched. She couldn’t get enough of Mia Freedman and her frank conversations about successful women managing their lives. She also loved Conversations with Richard Fidler. And a few laughs with Hamish and Andy. She also listened to random true crime podcasts from America.

  After five minutes of waiting for a little red number one to appear the top right corner of her Messenger icon, Christine decided to have her evening shower, brush her teeth and climb into her pyjamas. Maybe by the time she finished all that, Ant would have replied.

  As she stood under the hot, steaming shower, her mind wandered to the day they left the cafe and went back to his place. Before too long she was imagining his hands all over her wet body, lathering her with the soap sponge. She couldn’t help it. One minute she was in the present, next in the past. The present and past intermingled in the steam and soap and her mind fucked with her, literally.

  ‘I’m coming over,’ she wrote, despite being no message from him when she got out of the shower.

  It took less than one second for him to reply. ‘I’ll be waiting.’

  …

  Hours later, lying spent in Ant’s arms, Christine spoke.

  ‘What made you leave it all behind Ant? It’s a big step from the income of a dealer to the income of a mechanic. Why’d you give it up?’

  It took a while for him to answer. ‘I dunno. Why did you leave it all behind? It’s also a big step from the income of a pro to working in a jewellery store.’

  ‘It was Annabelle,’ she replied softly, snuggling closer into his chest. ‘Her disappearance, looking for her, not finding her, thinking about what could have happened to her. She was my turning point. She made me decide I wanted a better life for myself.’

  ‘I pined for you, did you know that?’

  Christine shifted so she could look into his eyes. ‘I pined for you too, Ant. But I had to make a choice. And I chose me.’

  Ant rolled away and made to get out of the bed. With his back to her he spoke.

  ‘I can’t believe we’re here. Now. Together. I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long.’

  ‘Sounds like you need to get yourself a life, buddy,’ Christine laughed, trying to block out the parting words she’d spoken to him all those years ago, knowing he was back in that moment.

  ‘It cut pretty deep, you know? To be told I was just like any other john and that because you’d decided not to take money for sex anymore didn’t mean I was anything special. You made out that I was just a customer, nothing more.’

  Christine bit her tongue. He was right. Although he wasn’t. What she had said wasn’t what she felt deep in her heart. But she couldn’t take the words back. She couldn’t rewind the film, then edit that dialogue out. That ship had sailed. If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. Saying after saying marched through her mind and crushed her. Actions speak louder than words. A glimmer of light entered the room. Her actions now could erase the words of then.

  She moved over to his stiff back and ran her hands softly over his skin, up to his shoulders and then around his neck. She pulled her naked body closer and wrapped her legs around his waist, her nipples squashed against his back, her lips on his neck. She kissed him softly, like a butterfly. His back remained stiff but he didn’t push her away. She continued to kiss him, behind the ear, then all over his neck. Gradually she felt him relax and melt into her. She got up onto her knees behind him, so her breasts were on his shoulders. She moved his hands so he could touch her and he gently tweaked her nipples.

  Shivers went right through her and her soft kisses became more urgent, more passionate, desperate. Afterwards she moved so they were face to face, noses touching.

  ‘I can’t change the past, Ant. But I can change the future.’

  ‘What is our future?’ His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion.

  ‘Our future is together, I know that for sure.’

  ‘What about Danny? What about your future with Danny?’

  Christine didn’t hesitate when she answered. She came here knowing she’d have to make a definite choice. She felt ready to make that choice.

  ‘Danny is not here. You are here. Danny is not my future, you are my future.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Yes Ant, I’m absolutely sure. I just need a bit of time to rearrange things, to talk to Danny, sort things out.’

  Ant rolled away with a loud sigh.

  ‘So when, when will you be mine again? Just mine?’

  She turned him back towards her so he could see the truth in her eyes.

  ‘Soon Ant, real soon. I promise.’

  They slept. As the morning birds twittered outside Ant’s bedroom window and the weak, early morning light started its gradual warming of a new day, Christine woke Ant in the best way she knew how.

  ‘Today is a new day with no mistakes,’ she said afterwards, her ear on his chest listening to his racing heart. Ant didn’t speak, he couldn’t. He pushed away niggling feelings of dread, knowing he could destroy everything in an instant with words she wouldn’t be able to bear.

  …

  After Christine left the safe haven of Ant’s arms and stepped out in the cold reality of the new day, she did what a lot of people who couldn’t face their hurtful and deceitful actions would do. She booked a plane ticket on her phone and caught a taxi to the airport.

  CHAPTER 27

  Missing again

  Once she arrived in Sydney, she booked another taxi and headed straight to Macleay Street. While waiting in the airport she’d found an Airbnb overlooking Fitzroy Gardens with the Kings Cross Police Station only just visible through the trees. They’d grown noticeably since Christine was last here. She had a clear view of the El Alamein Fountain through the large bedroom window, also from the second bedroom. The latter had been converted into a study with floor to ceiling French white built in cupboards, and a well-designed walk-in robe that maximised the small space. The apartment was crammed with tasteful art deco furnishings and a large bookshelf with fashion and art books neatly filling the shelves. When the lady on the third floor gave her the key she told her the owners used to work for the likes of Zimmerman, Collette Dinnigan, Alice McCall and David Lawrence, and were now in Paris.

  She stood perfectly still at the main bedroom window, still smelling of the sex she’d shared with Ant less than six hours ago. Everything looked different down on the street. Less dirty. Less dangerous. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and the park was filled with marquees and people carrying large bread sticks under their arms, eco bags bulging with fruit and vegetables, and fresh flowers. Children clutched protectively onto balloons as they weaved around perfectly groomed miniature dogs on leads. Christine struggled to associate the laid back family market atmosphere in the park with her Cross of the eighties.

  Her phone flashed on the little corner desk in the second bedroom. CALL ME! Danny had used all capitals and she could imagine him shouting angrily as he typed the letters. She’d messaged him from Melbourne Airport, explaining she was going away for a while; that things were messed up and she needed to work out what to do. He instantly tried to call and left a desperate, pleading message for her to call him back. She typed quickly, rewriting it several times in an effort to stop him launching a major missing persons’ campaign, especially given his newly found knowledge.

  Please leave me alone Danny. I can’t talk to you right now. I really need my space. I am okay and in a safe place. I’m on my own and that’s where I need to be. Don’t report me missing to the police. I’m not missing, I know exactly where I am. But I need a break. I will call you tomorrow. Be reassured that I am alright. Please understand, I never meant to hurt you.

  She turned off her phone, stripped off her clothes and, with a heavy heart, went to the bathro
om for a long hot soak in the bath.

  …

  Washed clean she went to her new oversized tan leather backpack for the a new pair of jeans and a T-shirt she’d bought at the airport Witchery store, plus the latest crime fiction novel everyone was raving about, Girl on the Train. She had forgotten to buy underwear though. She put her dirty clothes into the washing machine, wondering where the nearest lingerie store might be. Too hard, she couldn’t think about that now. She rustled around deeper into her bag to find the package she’d stashed in the airport toilets. It was a tiny discreet pocket, somewhere to house keys or other items you didn’t want to lose in the chaos of a big bag, and it was perfect for the tiny packet of pills she’d taken from Ant’s top drawer. She’d been looking for a hankie after one of their lovemaking sessions and found this little packet instead. Without thinking she put it into her jeans pocket, not deciding deliberately that she was going to take any, but keeping it for just in case.

  As the sun started to set over The Cross she decided now was her just in case. She popped one, looked around the apartment, turned the lamp on beside the adorable yellow art deco corner chair, checked she had the keys and walked out the door, pulling it shut with a determined bang.

  Time to see what had changed – and what had stayed the same. In the fading evening light, the markets all packed away, she walked out of her building and turned right, past the fancy Japanese restaurant, and towards the traffic lights on the corner. She turned right again, and her past hit her in the face like a burst of hot wind. Darlinghurst Road welcomed her with its bright flashing lights and as the speed kicked in, she could almost hear television game show host Larry Emdur beckoning her with his familiar call Come on down!. She quickened her pace and breathed in the smells, the sounds and the sights. She opened the door which led her right back to 1988. Where life was simpler, more exciting, and much, much less responsible.

  CHAPTER 28

  Campsite clean