by Garry Disher
Pity they were a lot older than him. Pity they were senior in rank. He couldnt see either of them becoming his best pal when Murph left. He respected them, thats all. Looked up to them. Thank Christ he had that in his life.
Two girls aged about ten walked past, beating their knees with tennis racquets. Sweet kids, friends, not a care in the world. Then they saw the Jarretts and veered away, suddenly afraid, and John Tankard acknowledged what was at the back of his mind: an image of Natalie, his kid sister, and how awful it would be if anything ever happened to her.
The radio crackled. Sergeant van Alphen was replacing them. Apparently Sergeant Destry had called an urgent briefing.
* * * *
Pam was glad of the reprieve. It was close in the patrol car; even closer, with big, sweaty John Tankard behind the wheel, overheated from watching the Jarretts and from learning that she might be leaving the uniform behind. Even so, she couldnt see any harm in raising the temperature a little. Are you going to miss me, John?
She usually called him Tank. He scowled and muttered, reading John as an insult, and pressed hard on the accelerator pedal.
Sorry, I didnt catch that?
Think your shit doesnt stink.
Charming as ever.
She looked away at the run of tyre outlets and engineering firms that lay between the estate and the Waterloo police station. He is going to miss me, she thought. Hes always been half in love or lust with me, I dont let his bullshit get to me, and hes afraid of being left behind. Its no big deal, Tank. Its just a training course. Doesnt mean there are any detective positions open once Ive completed it.
A training course for a select few, he said. Who did you suck up to? Challis? Destry?
Im not going to honour that with an answer, John.
They rode in silence. The shadows were lengthening, pines and gums striping a roadside field that would soon be crammed with new housing. Plenty of traffic, people returning home from work, heading for the pub, the Waterloo Showor just cruising, Pam thought, as a lowered Falcon utility roared up behind them, two kids on board, nervous about passing a police vehicle but itching to all the same. Pam, her window down, could hear the hotted-up motor.
Tank, she said, is everything okay?
After a pause he said, Im working a one-up tomorrow night.
A one-up was a lone patrol, just you in the vehicle, owing to a shortage of police on the Peninsula. Pam herself had made several lone patrols in the past few weeks. Nothing bad had happened to her, but you heard stories. Take it easy, okay? she said, meaning it.
His voice lightened, welcoming the concern in hers. No worries.
Pam daydreamed. Then she heard him say, Katie Blasko. Ive got a bad feeling.
Me, too.
Its no bullshit, there really is a paedo ring on the Peninsula?
Ive heard rumours, thats all.
He shook his head. Ive got a sister her age. I was at her birthday last weekend. It makes you think. Makes you... He rolled his hand, searching for the word. Makes you feel how vulnerable they are.
Hed never mentioned a kid sister before. Whats her name?
Natalie. Nat. My parents had her late in life.
Pretty name.
He shrugged. Hed revealed too much, and gave a blokey squaring of his shoulders. Im picking up a new set of wheels tomorrow.
Until recently hed driven a real shitheap, a barge-like Falcon station wagon, in which hed hauled the local kids to and from football matches, but the motor had seized on it and hed given up coaching the Waterloo Wallabies at the end of the season. What kind? said Pam.
Mazda RX, one of the scarce series.
She had no idea what that was. Where from?
Caryard up in Frankston. I saw it in the Trading Post. Thirty grand, he said proudly.
Thirty grand? Jesus, Tank.
He said defensively. Low kilometres, one owner. I beat him down from thirty-five.
Pam gazed out of her side window, not wanting to talk about cars or let him see that she thought hed done a stupid thing. They reached the station, parked at the rear and got out, but instead of heading inside, Tank walked off into the shadows with his mobile phone. Oi, were supposed to be at the briefing, Pam said.
Ill be there in a sec. Gotta make a phone call.
Shrugging, Pam entered the station and climbed the stairs to CIU.
* * * *
8
The evening light was drawing close in Waterloo. Ellen stood at the head of the incident rooms long table, waving around a small plastic object clipped to a narrow woven neck strap. It resembled a flattened purple egg with buttons and a screen. This is a Tamagotchi, she said. A pink one resembling this was found on Trevally Street, not far from the foreshore reserve, and identified by Donna Blasko as belonging to her daughter, Katie.
Shed sent the original Tamagotchi to the new lab, ForenZics. This one belonged to Scobie Suttons daughter, Roslyn. Hed gone home for the day, but shed called him in again. You dont get time off when a kids missing.
Just then, John Tankard hurried in. Nice of you to make it, Constable.
Tank went red and sulky. Sorry, Sarge.
Her face tight, Ellen said, To continue, Donna Blasko found her daughters Tamagotchi lying on the footpath near her home and
Kees van Alphen raised a lazy hand. What the hells a Tamagotchi?
Scobie said indulgently, Its a little electronic toy. You give it a name and a personality. My Ros spends all of her free time
Ellen had to cut him short before he bored the pants off everybody. I was there for an hour before Katies mother mentioned the damn thing.
Nothing else? asked van Alphen, bored, picking nuggets of Styrofoam out of the rim of a disposable cup. No signs of a struggle? No witnesses?
No.
No sign of the bike, helmet or school bag?
Correct.
So what are you saying?
They all looked bored, this was just a missing kid, but, in her bones, Ellen was afraid for Katie Blasko. She wanted to act swiftly. There were three whiteboards behind her: photographs of the girl, and headings and notes in her neat hand. Here are the obvious alternatives, she said, using a pointer. One, Katie Blasko ran away.
Exactly, said van Alphen heavily.
Ellen ignored him. She has a history of it, always returning home of her own accord or being discovered at a friends house. But shes never stayed away as long as this before, and none of her friends have seen her. Second scenario: shes had an accident, possibly on her bike, possibly while running away or exploring waste ground somewhere. If thats the case, shell be found eventually, but if she requires urgent medical care we need to send out search parties at first light tomorrow morning. Uniforms have already begun searching the mangrove flats, the tip and the quarry. Here Ellen nodded an acknowledgement to Kellock. Third alternative, her classmates, or older children, have done something with her. Locked her in a shed, perhaps. An abandoned house. Again, we need to search thoroughly. Four, this is revenge for something. Does the family have any enemies? Five, the mothers de facto, Justin Pedder. He had access to Katie. Shed go with him willingly. He has an alibi, however, and I didnt really get a feeling that there was anything amiss in the home situation. But what if his mates are involved? Six, shes been abducted by a stranger or strangers. She might be found alive, or dead, or never found. For years now there have been rumours of a paedophile ring on the Peninsula.
Rumours, thats all they are, said van Alphen.
Ellen ignored him. Trace, interview, eliminate, she said. Thats what police work boils down to in cases like this. Friends, family, neighbours, teachers, everybody. But we dont have a lot of time. According to statistics, most kidnapped or abducted children are killed in the first twenty-four hours. If a paedophile ring is involved, theyll abuse her for a few days and then kill her. We cant sit around worrying about our shift entitlements, childcare arrangements or overtime. This is too important for that. She could be in a car or house on the other side of t
he country by now This is the worst kind of case: no body, no obvious crime scene, and no clear place to start.
She hoped she wasnt communicating her performance anxieties and doubts to the room. Of course she wasnt Challis, but how would Challis handle this case? Would he move swiftly, too, and hang the criticisms? She visualised the way he liked to stand at briefings, either propping up a wall, pacing at the head of the long table or tapping wall maps or displays of surveillance and arrest photographs. There were always coffee cups and plates of scones and apricot Danish on the table, but her table was bare, apart from reams of paper. She didnt want him to hear whispers about her. She didnt want the officers now watching her expressionlessly to smirk, roll their eyes, look bored or later go bolshie on her because they didnt think she was up to the job.
Friday, early evening. Theyd all rather be at home. She glanced out of the window at the darkening night. She could see flags and streamers curling lazily outside, lit by the streetlights, advertising the Waterloo Show. A perfect weekend coming up.
The mother and the boyfriend told you shes run away before? van Alphen asked.
Yes.
Then shes run away again.
Leaving her favourite toy behind?
He shrugged as if the whole thing was beneath him.
Kees, Ellen said exasperatedly, tell us what you really think.
He pushed away the ruins of his cup and looked at her finally. She has a history of running away, right? And shes a kidkids have short attention spans. She dropped her stupid toy and forgot about it. As for running away, maybe shes reacting to tensions at home; maybe shes trying to throw a scare into her mother. Note she didnt leave the bike behind, a bikes too precious for that. Shell turn up. They always do.
Weve tried all of her friends, Ellen said, feeling defensive.
Yeah, but have you tried her enemies? Her friends are bound to lie, to protect her.
And her enemies are bound to tell us the truth? said Ellen, cocking her head at him, even though she knew his idea was sound: an enemy will lie to hurt, just as a friend will lie to protect, but an enemy might also reveal those things a friend will want to concealnot that she thought little girls of that age had confirmed enemies.
Van Alphen shrugged. Its just a thought, he said, meaning that she hadnt covered all of the bases yet.
Prints on the Tamagotchi? Scobie asked.
Ellen turned to him with relief. Too soon. Its being tested.
They watched her, and waited. Ive had a few hundred flyers printed, she said, her voice sharp. Van, Id like you to muster up some uniforms and start distributing them tonight and tomorrow, all around town, especially along her bike route and at the showgrounds. I want a thorough canvass: flyers in shop windows, on bus shelters and light poles, etcetera, a saturation doorknock. The main Melbourne newspapers will run stories tomorrow, and TV and radio this evening. But we do not make public anything about an abduction or a paedophile ring. Its too alarmist. Its also too soon.
Senior Sergeant Kellock hadnt said a word as yet. Hed sat there, a massive, brooding presence, signifying disapproval, as though shed gone too far. She sighed inwardly. Senior Sergeant?
He stirred, his huge head lifting and turning to take in Ellen, the room and the men and women around him. This is a kid, just remember that, he growled, and Ellen could have embraced him.
Thats what she wanted them all to remember. This was a kid. A kid was missing. Scobie, you can be incident room manager. If this gets any bigger well want data inputters, a receiver and an analyst, so plenty of computers and phones, please.
Okay.
The briefing had taken ninety minutes. Before Ellen could wrap it up, her mobile phone rang. She took the call, tried not to show how thoroughly it disturbed her, and crossed to the TV set in the corner. Behold, she said sourly, the mother and the boyfriend.
Evening Update, Channel 5, five days a week from 7.30 until 8 pm. As Ellen watched, it occurred to her that grief, stress and anxiety have many faces: numb, teary, expressionless, defeated. But sometimesawfullygrief wears a smiling face. The voices coming from the TV were a little hoarse and broken, but Katies mother and her boyfriend were smiling for the cameras.
The segment was live, the reporter in Donnas sitting room. The police fear that little Katies been abducted, he said. Have you a message for her abductors?
We hope youll return Katie to us unharmed, said Justin Pedder, showing his teeth. Reptilian teeth, thought Pam.
Ellen Destry whirled around. I never said a word to those two idiots about abduction. How did the media get onto this?
They looked at her blankly.
If I find that anyone in this investigation has been leaking information, Ill come down on them like a ton of bricks. Understood?
Sarge.
Ellen scowled and turned to the TV again, where the question of victims-of-crime compensation was being raised. Yes, we think we should be compensated for our suffering, Pedder was saying.
How do you put a dollar amount on that? the reporter asked rhetorically.
Katie is priceless to us.
The reporter nodded, full of feeling, and said gravely, Tell us how youre feeling right now.
Like I want to rip your wig off, snarled Ellen.
We feel just devastated, said Katie Blaskos mother.
Afraid?
Yes.
Gently now: You fear the worst?
Yes, the mother and the boyfriend said with their blinding smiles.
How would you deal with the monster or monsters who have taken little Katie from you?
Justin Pedder showed his teeth and gums and mimed hanging from a tree.
Wheres the public interest in this? Kellock demanded.
Ellen was angry, but a part of her was also thinking that the public interest would quickly move on, leaving behind Justin Pedder and Donna Blasko, who surely felt ravaged to the core, even if they hadnt the means to express it.
* * * *
She closed the briefing and returned to the paperwork in her office. Thirty minutes later, she had an inkling of what Challis often went through.
I understand we have an abduction, Sergeant, said Superintendent McQuarrie from her doorway.
Sir, I
I have that on good authority, of course. The media, no less.
Sir, someone must have
This station has always leaked like a sieve, McQuarrie said.
He began strutting back and forth before her desk. She didnt know what the protocol was. Should she come out from behind the desk? Should she be standing while he bawled her out? She decided to stand. That made her taller than McQuarrie, who was slight, dapper, a bloodless little man. Was it correct protocol to be taller than your boss?
He scowled at her resentfully. Ive called a press conference. What do you suggest I tell them? That Evening Update got it wrong?
Ellen sat again. Headlights flickered outside. Waterloo was bopping tonight. She could see all the way down High Street to the waterfront and the showgrounds, the Ferris wheel and the wilder rides lit up like Christmas trees. Its beginning to look like an abduction, sir.
Beginning to look like, said McQuarrie flatly.
A snide little turd. She wondered what he was overcompensating for. His size? His total lack of coppers instincts? His years of administering rather than policing? The fact that his Rotary pals were company CEOs while his occupation was largely blue collar? She badly needed to go home, pour a gin-and-tonic, soak in a bath.
I realise were talking about a small child, for Gods sake, but its surely too soon to state categorically that it is an abduction, and too soon for teary parents to be making a public appeal. Do you have compelling evidence one way or the other?
No, sir.
Then you see my dilemma.
Sir.
Are you up to this, Ellen?
So now she was Ellen, his best pal? What a prick. I am, sir.
Because Inspector Challis is only a phone call and a plane ride away.
Ellen clenched and felt herself blush, the heat and the colour coming from shame, defiance and anger. When she found her voice she said, That wont be necessary, sir.
Glad to hear it, her boss said, turning briskly and striding out of the station to address the cameras. He loved the cameras and believed sincerely that they loved him.
Ellen stared gloomily at the wall. Presently she got a call from a technician at ForenZics. His name was Riggs; the voice was the kind that sniffed disapprovingly. That toy you sent us. We found prints and partials from the child and the mother, no one else.
