The Ones You Trust

by Caroline Overington

  She picked up her bag and told Eric, ‘I’ll call a taxi. This is all wrong. I am so sorry. I have to get out of here.’

  Eric had reacted angrily, texting her as she made her way back to her hotel: Come on Emma, it was a joke. You know it was a joke. Turn around. Come back. We’ve both been looking forward to seeing each other.

  Then: You need this as much as I do.

  Okay you’re obviously not going to turn back but this is ridiculous. It was a fucking joke.

  I can’t believe you’ve done this. One stupid joke and you run away.

  She had been right to run away. That was crystal clear, because the messages had kept coming, not only that night, but for weeks, mostly after Eric had opened the first bottle of the night, she assumed. Then, when the selfie Emma had taken with the cab driver appeared online, on some kind of ‘Seen Out and About in The Hunter’ page, Eric had texted again: I suppose The Snoop would be very interested to know where you were headed that night!

  Emma had gone straight into panic mode, thinking, Jesus, this job of mine is the worst. Being public property is the worst. Normal people do normal things, make normal mistakes. It doesn’t end in public shaming.

  She’d never felt physically threatened. She had worried that maybe Eric would try to damage her good name, not that she’d actually done anything wrong not that it mattered. Rumours and innuendo were enough to kill a woman’s career. Not long afterwards, Matty had arranged for everyone on Cuppa to get the new iPhone on a new, sponsored plan, and the new phone number had put an end to contact with Eric too. She hadn’t heard a word from him since. Didn’t know whether he’d tried to call or not. So why should she tell Franklin about him? Just to give him one more thing to look into, while her baby was out there, lying on a faded bed sheet in an old house?

  No. She just wanted them to pay the ransom so she could get Fox home, where she needed to be, safe in the heart of her family.

  Maven – who knew nothing of Eric – seemed to agree, although for different reasons.

  ‘I realise you’re in charge of the police investigation,’ she said. ‘But I’m in charge of Cuppa. And Jock’s in charge of Stellar. And there is nothing you can do to stop us from saying that a ransom demand has been made. That’s information the public is entitled to. The whole country is waiting for news. People are beside themselves. Let’s stop playing games with a small child’s life. Let’s pay the shitty Bitcoin, and get Fox home.’

  For the first time in any of his many interactions with Maven over a decade, Brandon had felt like cheering.

  Tuesday 13 October

  2 pm

  ‘We’re going to take a quick break. We will return to our live coverage of the disappearance of little Fox-Piper after these messages from our sponsors . . .’

  Maven stepped into the front garden and fished around in her bag for the gold-plated Zippo. She had been intending to call Matty to leak the news of the ransom demand, but her phone was pinging with incoming messages.

  One hundred and twelve missed calls since she’d last checked. Pretty much all of the messages were requests for interviews with Emma – as if she was going to authorise anyone other than Stellar’s own team to do that – or else colleagues wanting to know what the fuck was going on. Some were from panicked advertisers and others keen to get on the Cuppa broadcast because the ratings were going through the roof. She flicked over to Twitter. The Cardwell kidnap – #FindFox – was still trending. Maven scrolled through. Most people were supportive of Emma. She had public opinion on her side, although the stay-at-home-mum brigade had a few loose cannons prepared to criticise.

  Why does she work so hard? She can’t need the money, surely?

  Why have them at all if you don’t want to take care of them?

  She scrolled on, and found one tweet saying, Pretty good publicity for your ailing show.

  Maven replied to that one: Who are you, evil person? What’s wrong with you?

  She scrolled on further, then flipped over to look at the mood on Facebook. As she did so, up came a message from a contact she immediately recognised.

  John Meddow. Pap.

  Jesus, didn’t he know that she was busy? She was prepared to ignore it, because what was he going to say? Come on, Maven, just bring Emma to the window so we can get a shot of her crying?

  But then she saw it was Pap’s third message in less than three minutes, and every one of them said the same thing: Urgent. URGENT. It’s URGENT.

  She lit a cigarette and pressed the call-back icon. ‘This better be good,’ she said, out of the corner of her mouth. ‘We’re on the edge of a breakthrough here. I’m not allowed to say anything but this could be over soon.’

  ‘It could be over now,’ said Pap.

  Maven paused. ‘What?’

  ‘The kid you’re looking for,’ said Pap, ‘she’s got blonde hair?’

  ‘Everyone knows that. It’s in the Amber Alert. What’s your point?’

  ‘She’s little and cute?’

  ‘Oh, breaking news, Pap. Yes she is. That was also in the Amber Alert.’

  ‘I know where she is.’

  Maven paused a second time. ‘What the fuck are you talking about, Pap?’

  He spoke slowly and deliberately, pausing between each word: ‘I. Know. Where. She. Is.’

  Maven dragged back on her cigarette. ‘Why are you shitting me?’ she replied. ‘I’ve got a few things on my plate right now, Pap.’

  ‘I’m not shitting you. I’ve been hanging around here since the middle of the night trying to earn my keep. I saw Emma’s bodyguard arrive. And I saw him leave this morning.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I followed him.’

  For the first time in many years, Maven felt dread washing over her.

  ‘And?’ she prompted again. ‘Where are you going with this, Pap? What the actual fuck are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about Liam. He’s got Fox.’

  Maven dropped her cigarette. For a moment she didn’t speak. Her mind was racing. Was it possible? She pressed her phone hard against her cheek. ‘This better not be a joke,’ she said.

  ‘It’s no joke. If you let me in, I’ll show you the pictures. He drove to a house – his house, I’m guessing – and the way he was looking around, I thought, okay, I know he’s ex-army, they’re always a bit jumpy, but this was weird. I waited for him to leave again this morning and I got the zoom lens out, and she’s with this lady . . .’

  ‘Who is?’

  ‘Fox.’

  ‘What lady?’

  ‘Jesus, Maven, I don’t know. I didn’t knock on the door. To me, it looks like the lady on the footage from CCTV. But who she is, I couldn’t tell you.’

  ‘Where’s the house?’

  ‘Shitsville. Over the Anzac Bridge. Dingy joint. I guess he lives there. He parked in the drive. He had a key.’

  ‘Jesus. She’s all right?’

  ‘The lady?’

  ‘No! Fox!’

  ‘Yeah, she’s good. She wasn’t crying or anything. Not from what I could tell, anyway. She was in the front room, playing with dolls. I am one hundred per cent telling you the truth. Let me in and I’ll show you.’

  ‘I can’t let you in. We’ve got a kidnapping going on here.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Pap, ‘but I’ve solved it. Let me in and I’ll show the police.’

  Maven fumbled between the phone and her cigarette packet. She lit one, and drew back.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Let’s think a minute.’ She took two quick puffs. ‘Okay. I want to see your pictures,’ she said, keeping her voice low. ‘And if what you’re saying is right, if this is Fox, I swear to God, Pap, I will never curse your name again.’

  ‘I didn’t know you ever did curse my name.’

  ‘I’m going to give you the biggest pay day of your life. You’re sure she’s okay?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Okay, good. This is what we’re going to do, Pap. I’ll have to work through t
he details, but tell me what you think of this plan.’

  Maven came swinging back into Emma’s house. Edie was slumped on the sofa, her belly like a mountain. Lisa was in the kitchen, drying dishes.

  Maven kept her expression neutral.

  She’d found Fox.

  Okay, she hadn’t. But she knew where Fox was, and Fox was about to be found. But not without pictures. No way without Stellar on the scene. Except how was she going to organise that?

  Carefully.

  So fucking carefully.

  She stuck her head into Brandon’s office. ‘No news?’ she asked.

  Brandon, Emma, Franklin, Panton, Sullivan – they were all in there, but nobody answered.

  ‘I guess not,’ she said.

  ‘We have to wait. They’ve moved it up to the Police Minister’s office,’ said Emma. She was sitting with her elbows on the leather desktop, fingers deep in her hair. ‘The minister wants to decide whether we pay the ransom.’

  ‘I say we fucking pay it,’ said Brandon. He was standing with his hand up to the plantation shutters. He’d opened a gap and was peering out. ‘We pay, and then we deal with the arseholes who took her. I’ll deal with them. Five minutes in a room with them, that’s all I want,’ he said.

  Maven sidled close to him. She’d had two cigarettes in quick succession and hadn’t done her usual spritzing of herself with French perfume. She reeked of tobacco smoke. Maven knew Brandon was an ex-smoker, and like all ex-smokers, she knew he sometimes had a sneaky one. He probably had a sneaky pack somewhere in this house. But they wouldn’t need that.

  She showed him a glimpse of her pack. ‘Want one?’

  Brandon hesitated.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘There’s a million paps outside, but we can go into the garage.’

  He followed her out of the office, with Emma rolling her eyes in sad resignation, like if he really needed to smoke at this moment, who was she to stop him? They went through the kitchen, out the small side door and down the concrete steps. There was space enough in the garage for four cars, but only Maven’s Humvee was there.

  Maven handed Brandon her pack and a lighter. ‘Now wait here,’ she said.

  ‘Where are you going?’ asked Brandon, confused.

  ‘I’ve got somebody who wants to meet you.’

  She walked around the front of the Humvee, and opened the passenger door. Pap stepped out, into the underground gloom. He was wearing the same crumpled, wash-and-wear trousers, faded polo shirt, and canvas tennis shoes he’d been wearing since the night before, and his expression was wary.

  ‘Who the fuck is this?’ asked Brandon.

  ‘I’m John Meddow,’ said Pap, hand extended.

  ‘He’s a pap,’ said Maven. She took her cigarettes from Brandon and lit one.

  Brandon looked appalled. ‘You brought me down here to talk to a pap? What the fuck is he doing here? Jesus fucking Christ, Maven,’ he came close to shouting.

  ‘Settle down. He’s not here to take pictures. He’s got something to tell you.’

  Brandon’s face turned to thunder. ‘How did he even get in here?’

  ‘I went out, met him down the street, stuffed him in the back of the Humvee, and brought him back here. I took your remote to get into the garage. I told the pack I was doing a coffee run so they’d leave me alone. Nobody knows he’s here. They’d kill me if they thought I was favouring one of them.’

  ‘Get him the fuck out!’ Brandon took one puff of his cigarette, then dropped it on the floor and ground it in disgust. He went for the stairs. ‘I’m not doing any fucking exclusives. Fuck you, Maven. Fuck this. We’re hunting for Fox! Get this guy the fuck out of my house.’

  ‘Wait, Brandon. Pap’s not here for an exclusive. He’s been following Emma’s bodyguard,’ said Maven, pocketing the lighter.

  Brandon turned at the base of the stairs. His face had darkened further.

  ‘Settle down and hear him out,’ said Maven, leaning against the sleek Humvee, patent shoes splayed. She reached up to pick a trace of tobacco from between her red lips. ‘He’s got something.’

  ‘What have you got?’ said Brandon. ‘Make it quick.’

  ‘I told Maven,’ Pap said, his voice catching slightly. ‘I think I know who’s got your kid.’

  Brandon strode towards Pap, took him by the faded collar and pulled him in, so they were nose to nose. ‘What the fuck?’ he said.

  ‘I followed the bodyguard to his house,’ Pap squeaked.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Your daughter’s there.’

  ‘I am going to fucking kill you,’ said Brandon.

  ‘Put him down, Brandon. He’s not messing around,’ said Maven, shaking her head. ‘He showed me a picture. Liam’s got Fox, and she’s fine. She’s with that woman from the CCTV, having a good time, playing with dolls. Don’t ask me why, or what’s behind it. The question is, what do we do now? Do we tell the police? You said you wanted five minutes with them. So do you want to handle this?’

  Maven came up from the garage, waving a hand around her head as if to disperse the cigarette smoke. The kitchen was empty but for two cops and one of the minions, who had her pretty head stuck in the fridge.

  ‘I’m heading back to Stellar,’ Maven said. ‘PJ’s been on air forever, and he’s got nothing new to report. Brew’s already gone back to normal programming and he must be begging to get off. He’s going to need a gee-up.’

  The minion closed the fridge door. ‘Do you want me to tell Emma?’ she said.

  ‘No. I’ll be back before she knows it.’

  Maven headed back down the stairs. She buzzed the locks on the Humvee and got behind the wheel.

  ‘I’ve told them that I’m off, but not you, Brandon. So we don’t have long. They’re going to notice you missing. So let’s get going. You need to stay low. The tint on these windows is celebrity-proof, but get down just in case.’

  Pap didn’t move.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to involve the police?’ he said. ‘That’s why I came to the house, to tell the police. I’ve already got my pictures.’

  ‘Of course you have,’ said Brandon.

  Pap shrugged. ‘It’s my job,’ he said. ‘I’m just saying if you want to just tell the police, I don’t need any more shots, what I’ve got is gold. You don’t have to handle this. They can do it.’

  ‘I should smash your camera.’

  ‘Come on, Pap. Just get in the car and try not to give Brandon another reason to kill you.’

  ‘I’m just saying . . .’

  ‘Just come if you’re coming,’ said Brandon. ‘This prick Liam has been driving my wife around for a year. Emma trusts him. Now you’re telling me he’s got my daughter? I want to know why. And if the cops get there first, I’m not going to get my chance to ask him why. Or to show him what I think of his “why”. So either you tell me where he lives or you get in the car now.’

  ‘I know where he lives,’ said Maven. ‘I hired him.’

  Pap hesitated. Maven figured on the calculation he was making: get in the car and maybe get pix but also get involved in what could be an ugly scene. She knew which way he’d go. He was a pap. He got into the car just ahead of Maven pressing the remote for the garage door. The media pack swarmed but Maven waved them away, and swerved the wheel of the Humvee hard enough to cause most of the rest to leap out of the way.

  ‘Bitch!’ one of them cried, as she tore out of the street.

  ‘We don’t have long,’ Maven said. ‘They’re going to notice you missing Brandon. I should have told you to dump your mobile.’

  ‘The cops already have it. I didn’t bring it down with me.’

  ‘That’s one small mercy. But I’ve got mine.’

  She sent an urgent text to Matty at Stellar, who responded with: On it. She turned the Humvee out of Emma’s street and roared up the main road, onto the freeway, in the direction of the Stellar headquarters on the Admiralty Way.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Pap. ‘It�
��s the other way.’ ‘Small detour,’ said Maven.

  She brought the Humvee to a halt at the McDonald’s across from Stellar.

  Looking out his side window in confusion, Brandon said, ‘What the fuck?’

  Then he saw him: PJ, behind the wheel of his own car, in the car park.

  ‘You must be fucking joking,’ said Brandon.

  ‘Calm down,’ said Maven. ‘This is our cover. We’re going to get PJ to knock on the door and tell Liam we’ve come to film a “Find Fox” video. Everyone’s doing them. We’ve got a message from the Prime Minister. We’ve got one from Nicole Kidman. We’re doing heaps of them. Cassie fucking Clay has done one. So we’ll have a reason to be on Liam’s doorstep.’

  ‘Fuck you, Maven. You can’t fool me. This is you wanting an exclusive. This is just about getting footage. Just tell me how to get to the house.’

  ‘We can’t just rock up and have you burst through the door. It’s too dangerous,’ said Maven. ‘Trust me on this.’

  Before he could object, she took off, with PJ following and Brandon seething and Pap not speaking as she made her way over the Anzac Bridge, following directions she’d programmed into her phone.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said to Pap. ‘Shitsville.’

  The neighbourhood was down-at-heel, with weedy lawns, and rundown houses. She brought the Humvee to a stop in Liam’s street. Brandon didn’t wait for instructions. He kicked the car door open, and Pap climbed out after him.

  PJ stepped out of his car, still in the suit he’d been wearing for the live coverage of the kidnap. ‘Does somebody want to tell me what’s going on?’

  Maven got out of the Humvee and lit a cigarette. ‘PJ, you’ve always wanted to be the big shot. This is your moment. We’ve found Fox.’

  ‘You’ve found Fox?’

  ‘Correct. She’s at Liam’s place, we’re guessing with his mother. She’s okay. She’s fine. Pap saw her. You know we’ve been doing those “Find Fox” videos for Facebook? We’re going to tell Liam you’re here to do one with him. But actually, we’re here to grab Fox. And you’re going to be the hero reporter.’

  ‘Are you fucking kidding?’ replied PJ. ‘He’s ex-army, Maven!’