by Garry Disher
Ellen sighed. Thank you.
Riggs said, Hours. The state lab sometimes takes days to furnish results.
Was he after praise? Thank you.
At your service, Riggs said, closing the connection with a brisk click.
Ellen stared at the wall again, then picked up her desk phone and dialled.
Fielding occasional calls from journalists, and referring them to the media office, she worked until 10 pm. Without the benefit of daylight or fresh leads, there was no point in hanging on later than that. Shed be of more use to Katie Blasko tomorrow morning, with a clear head, and so she clattered swiftly down the stairs and out into the car park at the rear of the police station. More than once on the drive along the moonlit back roads did she think about turning back and doing an all-nighter at the station. She wanted to be in her office, not in Hal Challiss unfamiliar bath, kitchen or bed, when the body was found.
For she was sure thered be a body, crammed into a culvert somewhere, or tossed onto waste ground. Katie Blasko would be torn and bruised, internally and externally. Ligature marks on her wrists and ankles, maybe her neck. Things organic and inorganic would have been inserted into her. Shed have been photographed and videoed by the creep or creeps who abducted her, the images transferred onto compact disc and sold overseas or stored on computers and e-mailed all over the world, catering to a range of perverts: those who liked pre-pubescent girls posed in their cottontails, those with rape and incest fantasies, sodomites, all the way up to those who got a kick out of killing children or seeing it done.
* * * *
Challiss house was dark, her footsteps a lonely series of slaps on his floorboards. It was a house to her, not a home. Without Challis there, it was just a house shed be living in for the next few weeks. None of the angles were friendly, even with all of the lights on.
Shed collected Challiss mail and rolled copy of the Age from the letterbox at the foot of his driveway. Now she poured herself a gin-and-tonic and tried to free the Age of the plastic film that wrapped it, but couldnt find the join. Frustrated, she got one of Challiss kitchen knives and cut and sawed at the plastic, tearing the paper here and there. She could cry.
Instead she did a stupid thing and picked up the phone.
Al? Its me, she said in a small voice.
Her husband didnt know how to read it. Oh, hi, he said neutrally.
He was renting a flat in Frankston now. She didnt know what his life was like. How are you?
All right. He was wary. Is everything okay, Ells?
He hadnt wanted her to leave him. She heard from his voice that he was a little encouraged that shed called. Im fine, she assured him hastily.
You dont sound it.
No, honestly, Im fine.
I heard on the news they acquitted Nick Jarrett.
Yes.
Bad luck.
Ellen tried to detect satisfaction in her husbands voice. Like her, he was a cop, but he was also liable to be pleased by any reversal that came her way. She changed the subject. I saw Larrayne while I was in the city.
She told me.
Oh. She had a boy with her.
Travis.
So you know him. You could have told me. Are they living together?
Why dont you ask her? Shes your daughter.
No, said Ellen, feeling hurt and nasty, shes her dads daughter.
They were silent. The past and the present sat heavily. Ellen sipped her drink and said, I wasnt sure youd be home.
He was attached to the accident investigation squad. He rarely had Friday nights free. Meeting up with a friend later, he said.
Code for a female friend, a lover? Ellen wondered if he was telling the truth. It hadnt occurred to her to think about his love life, for she hadnt wanted to sleep with him again. Now she felt a faint twinge of something she hoped wasnt jealousy. Was it jealousy because he had a love life, or jealousy because he had a love life and she didnt? There was a world of difference between the two.
Oh yeah? Who?
Are you jealous, Ells? Lover boys gone away and youre all on your lonesome?
Go to hell.
She almost cut the connection, but found herself telling him about Katie Blasko. There had been a time, long ago, when theyd talked over their days work, the hassles and triumphs. That was before shed become a sergeant and hed failed the sergeants exam. That was before hed decided she was sleeping with Challis.
I might be able to help there, he said, when shed finished.
She sipped her gin-and-tonic. Challiss sitting room began to take on warmer configurations. She liked its plain furniture and simplicity, the mix of wood and leather, the CD collection under the rows of books along one wall. How?
I dont know, Ellen, he said impatiently, as though shed doubted his abilities. Check speed cameras in the area, infringement notices, stolen vehicle reports.
Thanks, she murmured, oddly touched.
Yeah, well...
Into the pause that followed, she said, Dont be late for your date.
Oh, okay, he said mutedly, and she didnt know if hed been hinting for an excuse to break his date, or keeping up a pretence to make her jealous. She felt about sixteen again.
* * * *
As she was getting ready for bed the phone rang, and Hal Challis said, Burnt my house down yet?
Relief flooded her. There was no cluttered history, he was rock solid and hed be able to help her. Then, just as instantaneously, complications took shape in her mind. Her boss was a thousand kilometres away. He had troubles of his own. Hed left her in charge.
She cleared her throat, trying to rally. Burnt the toast, she said.
He laughed. Hows the grass?
Long, getting longer.
He said apologetically, Get someone in to mow it for you. Ill pay you back.
They were far apart in the night, the staticky murmurs of the atmosphere sounding on the line between them. Bad news, she said. Nick Jarrett was acquitted.
Hell.
Tell me about it. McQuarries steaming.
Ill bet. Look, dont beat yourself up about it. Well get Jarrett on something else.
Yeah, something minor, no jail time.
They were silent, acknowledging the frustrations of the job. Hal, theres something else, Ellen said, and told him all about it: Katie Blasko, Katies home life, the delay, the indifference of van Alphen, McQuarries grandstanding, and, more than anything, her doubts and fears.
Youre right to treat it as a worst-case scenario, Challis assured her. When its a kid, you cant afford to take chances.
But I did take chances, Hal. Instead of sticking around this afternoon and mounting a proper search, I left Scobie in charge and swanned off to the city. What if shes dead because I didnt take it that one step further?
But you have to cover the obvious bases first, he said soothingly, and thats what Scobie was doing.
I know, but I feel guilty.
And youve made up for it.
She laughed without humour. Now everyone thinks Im overreacting.
Youve got good instincts, Challis said. Better instincts than I have.
Did she not believe him, or not believe that he believed it? She was about to reply when he said, Get Kellock and van Alphen on side. Theyll look out for their own interests first, but theyre straight and theyre canny. Above all, dont let McQuarrie stage-manage everything.
I know. Its just that I keep imagining Katie Blasko somewhere dark, she said. Shes hurt. Shes scared. I know you have to take a step back and not get involved, but its hard.
Actually, Challis said, I dont think you can be a good investigator if you dont feel something. Feelings are an essential part of imagination and intuition. You cant do those things cold.
Theyd never talked like this before. Perhaps it was the phone. She liked it. You think so?
Positive.
Thanks, Hal.
They lingered on the line. Eventually she heard him say, Goodnight. Call me if you need me.
&nbs
p; Hows your dad? she said, because she wanted to know, and to prolong his voice in her ear.
* * * *
9
Early on Saturday morning, Ellen was back at Katie Blaskos house, acting on the firm principle that you always examine the home situation first. In this case she wanted another look at Justin Pedder, the mothers de facto. His alibi for Thursday afternoon was sound, but that didnt mean anything. For all that Ellen knew, hed been sharing Katie with his mates, only this time something went wrong and theyd killed and dumped the girl. Or hed stoked them with photos and fantasies and theyd decided they wanted some of that action while he was away at the races.
Or he was completely innocent. Certainly he was unknown to the rape squad, the child exploitation unit and the various government agencies like Childrens Services.
But Ellen was thinking of the six-year-old, Shelly. Was she next? Would Pedder groom her, too, and discard her as easily as hed discarded Katie? Had Katie been discardedtoo old?or had something gone wrong, shed been smothered to shut her up, or strangled because someone failed to control himself?
Wanting answers to some of these questions, Ellen knocked on Donna Blaskos door at eight oclock. Donna answered, blotchy from weeping and sleeplessness, stale smelling, a tissue in one hand, wearing a grimy towelling robe over mens pyjama pants and a green T-shirt. The air was laden with odours: breakfast toast and bacon, and older, fuggier layers that Ellen automatically sifted through, identifying cigarettes, beer, marijuana and perspiration. She wanted to open up the house, every door and window. A TV set droned in the background: cartoons.
Have you found her?
Ellen shook her head. Sorry, Donna, and sorry to call so early. May I come in?
S pose, said Donna reluctantly.
They moved through the sitting room to the kitchen at the back, skirting a pizza box, a bra, empty DVD case, the Saturday Herald Sun, toys, and the little sister, Shelly, sprawled in front of a wide-screen TV. Excuse the mess.
You should see my place, said Ellen, then wondered why shed said it. She didnt have a place. Her old place had been tidy, with Larrayne no longer living in it. Donna looked at Ellen in astonishment, either because she thought the police were neat or she didnt expect kindness. Cuppa tea?
Thank you.
Ellen sat, touched the sticky tabletop, withdrew her hand into her lap. The sink was piled with breakfast dishes, the fridge noisy, the floor grimy, linoleum tiles lifting here and there. And apparently the cat liked to move its food from the bowl to the floor. Ellen itched to get a scraper out.
Justin still in bed?
Donna shook her head. Out with his mates.
Ellens disapproval must have been apparent, for Donna added aggrievedly, Theyre looking for Katie.
Ellen got her notebook out. Bright and early. Their names?
Theyre looking for Katie, Im tellin ya.
I dont doubt it. We need to speak to everyone whos had contact with your household in the past few weeks and months.
I thought Katie was snatched off her bike?
Were not absolutely sure what happened, Ellen said. But lets not jump the gun. She paused. I saw you on television, Donna. At no point did I state categorically to you that we thought Katie had been abducted.
No, we had to hear that from the Evening Update guy.
Ellen sighed. There are other scenarios.
So? Shes still missing, no matter what happened to her. Are the police actually doing anything to find her?
Search parties went out at first light. From eight-thirty this morning an incident caravan will be parked at the entrance to Trevally Street. Officers will be on standby to hand out leaflets, answer questions and take statements. After school on Monday weve arranged for a model to trace Katies movements.
Roslyn Sutton, in fact, Scobies daughter, the same age, build and height as Katie Blasko. Do you have a photo of Katie on her bike? Wearing her helmet? We need to match bike and helmet.
Somewhere.
And a spare school uniform we can use?
Donna was looking alarmed and confused. Yeah, but what do you mean, a model?
A child who resembles Katie will ride slowly from the school gates to this house, taking Katies usual route home. Then well do it again, taking alternative routes. Several police officers will follow her, handing out leaflets. Well use a megaphone to explain what were doing. The purpose is to jog peoples memories, either of last Thursday or of other days when something out of the ordinary might have occurred.
Like what?
Perhaps Katie spoke to an adult along the way, a stranger or someone she knew. Or an unfamiliar vehicle was seen in the area. Anything at all. Youll be surprised how well it works.
Ellen held no hopes whatsoever that it would work, but couldnt say that, and in fact Donna didnt look gladdened. Her face crumpled.
You think shes dead.
We mustnt give up hope.
I wish Justin was here.
A bit callous of him to leave you alone, Ellen said carefully.
Im not alone, said Donna hotly, pointing in the direction of the TV in the other room. Plus hes not far away. Hes doing more than you lot to find Katie.
Guilt? Smokescreen? Genuine concern? How well diddohe and Katie get along?
Donna sniffed. Not bad. Argue a bit.
What about?
Oh, you know, the usual stuff, noise, TV watching, homework, stuff like that. Katies always saying, Youre not my dad. Shes got a temper on her. A sudden change came over Donnas face. You think he done it, dont you? Well, he was with me on Thursday and I can prove it. And if he was abusing her regular, or at all, would she shout and yell and give him cheek? I dont think so. My uncle done stuff to me and I tell you now, it makes you quiet and sad.
Ellen blinked away sudden tears. Im sorry, Donna.
Yeah, well, so you should be.
Ellen said carefully, What about his relationship with the little one. Shelly She held up a placating hand. I have to ask, Donna, to get it out of the way. If I dont, someone harder and more senior will come along and ask, she added, feeling nasty and small.
Shelly? Shell adores him.
She doesnt say, Youre not my father?
Donna was disgusted. Justin is her father. God. Get your fucking facts right, why dont you.
Ellen blushed. Forgive me, Donna, I should have checked. Are you Shellys mum?
No. God. When we first met, I was alone with Katie and he was alone with Shelly.
Ellen bent her head to her notebook to hide her face. She should have been told all of this. She should have checked.
Justins not involved, take it from me. His mates arent, either. Theyve all got kids of their own; were always in and out of each others houses. Yeah, theyre rough, theyve got tattoos, a couple have even been done for minor stuff, but theyre not into anything sick. Its a stranger, I tell ya.
Ellen nodded, closing her notebook, glancing at the crowded refrigerator, where drawings, cards and photographs jostled. Peninsula Plumbing, the cards read. Mr Antenna. Waterloo Motors. Rising Stars Agency.
* * * *
10
The Seaview Park kids were notorious for surging and flickering about the town like a dangerous organism, appearing, disappearing, dispersing, merging again. On Saturday morning they were first spotted forming inside the main entrance to the estate, eight of them, mostly Jarretts and Jarrett acolytes, aged between six and eleven; a moment later they were outside it, throwing eggs at passing cars. They were gone well before the police arrived. So what else is new? sighed Pam Murphy, taking witness statements from irate motorists in between doorknocking and handing out flyers.
Over the next hour she tracked them by their crimes. They lifted packets of LifeSavers from Wallys milk bar and spray paint from High Street Hardware. All along High Street they went, like quicksilver, terrorising the law-abiding. T-shirts from Hang Ten Surf Wear, sunglasses from a rack in the pharmacy, cheap jewellery from a couple of the $2 shops. Their movements were obvi
ous: they were heading straight down High Street to the parkland on the waterfront, to the dodgem cars, shooting galleries, Ferris wheel, ghost train, flower, jam and cake displays, pony rides, outdoor art show, sound stage and food stalls that denoted the annual spring show in Waterloo. Pam didnt know what theyd do there, but did know theyd do more than merely gawk or spend any money theyd stolen or cadged. It wasnt in their nature to give to the community but to take. That was the Jarrett way, and there were plenty of takings at the Waterloo Show.
