The Vanishing

by Gabrielle Lord

  ‘Lasssst chance. Tell me where the box is.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ sobbed Anika.

  The intruder seemed to think for a moment. ‘Then you’ll have to come with me.’

  Suddenly the invader lunged at her and Anika felt a sharp sting in the side of her neck. The last thing Anika noticed was the sense of falling . . .

  falling . . .

  falling . . .

  <40:00>

  ‘What did you put for question three on the maths test yesterday?’ Mack asked Jazz while they walked along the leafy street to Anika’s place, as the friends did every school morning.

  ‘Mack, I don’t have a photographic memory of the test!’ laughed Jazz. Mack’s phone pinged. ‘That’s the sixth notification you’ve had this morning,’ said Jazz, raising her eyebrows. ‘How come you’re so popular?’

  Mack looked a little sheepish. ‘Actually, it’s comments coming in on Anika’s blog.’

  ‘You’re subscribed to it?’ exclaimed Jazz.

  ‘It’s really exciting!’ Mack protested.

  ‘Well, don’t let me stop you from reading some more,’ said Jazz sarcastically.

  ‘I don’t want to look yet,’ Mack admitted as they reached Anika’s house. ‘I haven’t read her last post because I was busy with our science project last night.’

  Jazz rolled her eyes and was about to chide Mack again for her obsession with schoolwork when she stopped in her tracks on the Belmonts’ verandah.

  ‘Wait,’ Jazz said, pausing at the sight of the front door of Anika’s place, usually firmly locked, standing wide open. She slipped the unneeded key back into her pocket and looked down the side of the house. ‘Look, both Anika’s parents’ cars are still in the driveway.’

  ‘Do you think something’s wrong?’ asked Mack, her eyes showing concern. Wordlessly, the two girls went inside. Hearing sounds of distress, they rushed to the living room. Mr Belmont stood gazing at his phone, gaping in shock. Mrs Belmont, both hands covering her face, sobbed so violently that her whole body shook.

  ‘Mrs Belmont! What’s happened? Mr Belmont? What is it? Where’s Anika?’ Jazz asked through a lump in her throat. Both girls’ eyes, frightened and bewildered, were riveted on the adults.

  ‘Oh, Jazz!’ Mrs Belmont cried, grabbing her in a hug. ‘It’s Anika! She’s—’ Mrs Belmont broke off into more uncontrollable sobs.

  ‘She’s been kidnapped!’ Mr Belmont said numbly.

  Jazz and Mack stared at each other in horror.

  ‘You have to tell the police!’ said Jazz.

  ‘We can’t,’ said Mrs Belmont. ‘The kidnapper just rang. They said no police . . .’

  ‘But . . .’ Mack protested.

  Mr Belmont shook his head. ‘They said it three times. We can’t risk our daughter’s life like that! If we want to get her back safely, we have to wait for them to text us, then do exactly what they say!’

  Jazz’s ears pricked up. ‘“They”? Was the voice a man’s or woman’s?’

  ‘We couldn’t tell,’ said Mrs Belmont. ‘It was a strange raspy voice. Oh, this is a nightmare!’ she moaned.

  The Belmonts, faces white, sank to the sofa and huddled there, overcome.

  Jazz stood frozen, stunned. Anika—her oldest friend—kidnapped! A horrible feeling of regret washed over her. The last conversation they’d had was that stupid fight about the blog! Jazz wished more than anything that she could take everything she had said back.

  The sound of a phone alert snapped everyone to attention.

  They all huddled around Mr Belmont to see the text message he had just received. For a moment he simply stared at the phone, as if frightened by what it may contain.

  ‘Hurry up!’ Mrs Belmont cried.

  Opening the message, Mr Belmont’s brows knotted in confusion. ‘It’s a web address,’ he said.

  Jazz leaned in closer and swiftly memorised the address.

  ‘Where does it lead? What does it say?’ Mrs Belmont asked frantically as she and her husband exchanged fearful glances. He pressed on the link. Anika’s parents, and Jazz and Mack all held their breath looking at the phone screen as the site loaded.

  It was a blog, with a single entry:

  > IDENTITY WITHHELD <

  Somewhere hidden in your house, there is a small wooden jewellery box with the initials LT on it. When you find it, leave a comment below describing what you can see in the box but DO NOT TOUCH anything inside it. A new post will then give you further instructions.

  Your daughter will be safe if you do as you are told.

  YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT TOMORROW.

  IF YOU CALL THE POLICE I WILL KNOW!

  The last line of the message made Jazz shudder. Could they be watching us or monitoring the house, right now? she wondered.

  Jazz walked over to the large glass doors that overlooked the back terrace and garden. Methodically, she noted what surrounded the Belmonts’ house on each side. On the eastern border, above tall palm trees, she could see two of the windows of the upper storey of Deepwater, the spooky mansion next door. On the other side, the neighbour’s house was hidden behind the tall fence that ran around the Belmonts’ backyard, apart from a gable window that poked out from the roof. She took out her phone to take pictures.

  ‘Jazmine, what are you doing?’ Mr Belmont called sternly. He ran over and grabbed her phone from her hands. ‘You can’t post online about this! This is a matter of life or death!’

  ‘I wouldn’t!’ said Jazz, dismayed.

  ‘Promise me,’ he said. ‘Jazmine, Mackenzie, you mustn’t tweet or post about this. We told you what the kidnapper said. We have to handle this ourselves. Anika’s life depends on it.’

  <39:35>

  ‘We have to find that box,’ Mrs Belmont said. She searched the room, lifting cushions, peering into lamps and other items, no matter how unlikely.

  Jazz started to look for it as well but noticed Mack heading for the front door and beckoning her to follow.

  ‘Mack, where are you going? We’ve got to help Anika’s mum and dad find the jewellery box,’ Jazz said as they walked outside.

  ‘I think we need to let her parents have some time alone,’ said Mack. ‘This must be so hard. We can come back after school if they still haven’t found the box.’

  ‘School?’ cried Jazz. ‘I can’t go to school. No way could I concentrate on anything. All I can think of is Anika.’

  ‘I can’t miss class.’

  ‘How can you think about school at a time like this?’

  Mack looked away, her face lined with distress. ‘I’d like to help you, Jazz. I care about Anika; she’s my best friend too. But my parents would kill me. They’ve got enough to stress about without me ditching school to track down a kidnapper.’

  ‘But, Mack! This is really important! Anika, your friend, is missing and is probably in terrible danger!’

  Tears streamed down Mack’s face. ‘I know that, but I have to go. What could we do here, anyway? We might even get in the way. You may have read a lot of true-crime stories, Jazz, but that doesn’t give you real-life experience.’

  A car drove past and slowed as it approached the Belmonts’ house. Jazz watched it closely, noting its colour, the make and model and its number plate. She tensed as it pulled up outside Anika’s house. Was this something to do with the kidnapping? She started to get out her phone to take a picture of the suspect when . . .

  A security guard got out and went into Deepwater.

  Jazz sighed and turned back to Mack. ‘What I do know is that the first 48HOURS matter.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The first 48HOURS is the best time to gather evidence—before the trail runs cold and important clues get moved or whatever. What I’m saying, Mack, is that you’re right: the Belmonts can look for the box. But we both heard them say they’re not even going to call in the police. Nobody else is going to investigate this. We need to find out who the kidnapper is. I mean, even if the Belmonts do find the box, how do we know i
f the kidnapper’ll ever bring her back?’ Jazz shivered.

  ‘We don’t,’ whispered Mackenzie.

  ‘Mack, that’s why we have to find out what happened to Anika. Who took her and why, and bring her home safely. And do it within 48HOURS. I need your brain power! Will you help me?’

  Mack blew her nose and allowed herself a small smile. ‘I can help you.’

  Jazz relaxed. ‘So you’ll be my partner?’

  Mack shook her head. ‘Not me, but I can think of a great partner for you. And a much smarter option than me. You need the most brilliant brain in the ’hood to help you. Someone who can not only hack a website but also get you into a professional lab.’ Mackenzie couldn’t help but grin as she said, ‘If you’re going to investigate this crime, you’re going to need Phoenix Lyons.’

  ‘Phoenix?’ Jazz cried, incredulous. ‘You’re joking. No way, Mack! I’m never going to ask for his help. Not in a million years!’

  <39:19>

  Phoenix Lyons was fighting to save himself. Flicking his fringe out of his eyes, he put his clenched hands in front of his face, and braced himself for the next assault.

  ‘Think you’re tough, do ya?’ mocked his opponent. ‘Then let’s see what you’ve got.’

  His attacker came at him faster than he’d expected and Phoenix found himself backed into a corner, dodging blows.

  ‘Come on, would ya, fight back! Whaddaya scared or something?’

  Phoenix tried to block out the taunts and concentrate on his counterattack. He struck out with a quick one–two jab, putting all the desperate weight of his body behind the punch. The momentum carried him and he tumbled forwards. I won’t fall, he told himself as he tried to correct his dangerous angle, hearing his attacker close in on him. I won’t.

  Instead, he managed to steady himself and change the fall into a turn, spinning round to take his opponent by surprise and deliver a solid body blow that dropped him to the floor. Phoenix stood there, panting.

  His opponent stared up at him, then a big grin split his tanned face, crinkling up his blue eyes. He put up a gloved hand, which Phoenix took.

  ‘Phoenix! Well done, mate!’

  Phoenix returned the grin as he helped his boxing coach, Simon, to his feet.

  ‘That was a great combo. You kept your balance and turned defence into attack.’

  Phoenix and Simon stepped out of the ring, sipping water as they caught their breath. Phoenix had met Simon here at the gym about a year ago when he’d started up casual boxing lessons. Since he’d been suspended, he’d ramped up the sessions ’til he was heading to the gym on a daily basis.

  ‘Your style is really improving,’ Simon said. ‘It reminds me of something my dad used to say: If you can’t walk away from a fight, take it on with everything you’ve got!’

  ‘My dad has a saying too,’ scowled Phoenix. ‘If you can walk away from a fight, do.’

  Since coming to the gym, Phoenix had talked a lot about his dad, telling Simon stuff he’d never share with his friends. Like how distant his dad was. Mr Lyons was always working and never home. He only seemed to care about what Phoenix was doing when he got in trouble. And his mum was just as bad, focused on her work. At least she was home more, but that was only because her forensics business was based there. His parents had put an extension on to the house and kitted it out with a professional lab. But that now meant his mum worked even longer hours there than his dad did at the bank.

  ‘I gotta say, mate,’ Simon was speaking now, ‘it sounds like you’ve been taking your dad’s advice.’

  Phoenix stopped mid-sip, his granite eyes glaring at Simon. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘You’re still suspended, and you hang around here every day. Maybe you’re avoiding something. Aren’t you just supposed to write a letter so they’ll let you go back to school?’

  Phoenix towelled the sweat off his short dark hair and slicked back his fringe. ‘Maybe I don’t wanna go back.’

  Simon smirked. ‘Having too much fun, eh?’

  Phoenix took a long drink, stung by Simon’s words. He knew the instructor was teasing him, but Simon was so close to the truth he couldn’t think of a comeback.

  ‘I’ll catch ya tomorrow,’ Simon said. ‘Unless you’re back at school.’ He gave Phoenix a fist bump and started getting ready for his next student.

  Phoenix headed for the harbour after he left the gym. Kicking an empty oyster shell along the boardwalk, he saw a couple of old blokes with caps on their heads, sleeves rolled up and a bait bucket between them. They sat on the jetty’s edge, fishing and talking companionably. Out on the water, ferries cut through the low chop, carrying people from the suburbs to the central business district. Phoenix was in no hurry to get home. Did that mean that what Simon had said was true? Was he avoiding a confrontation with his parents?

  Hacking into the school’s computer system had been the most exciting thing he’d done in a while. Part of him had thought his parents would recognise the skill that it took. He’d even thought they might be proud! Instead, when they found out, they just went on about him having to grow up and learn some responsibility. He’d been given a list of jobs to do around the house and garden, mowing the lawn, weeding, hosing out the rubbish bins—which he’d ignored. Then they’d left him to his own devices, not even asking what he’d been doing all day.

  He hated to say it, but Phoenix kind of wondered if his hacking prank had even been worth it. He spent most of his days at the gym, or in his bedroom programming. His friends were all at school and there was often no reply to his texts and memes. Being suspended was boring.

  He’d never admit it to anyone—even Simon—but he actually missed school. Missed being the smartest in the class, missed hanging out with his mates. He could go back tomorrow if he just wrote the letter, but it was getting harder and harder to do. He almost wished he’d done it straightaway. Now it was a matter of pride.

  As he walked along the street he thought to himself, I did them a favour proving how insecure their computer system is. They should thank me!

  He started up the footpath to his house, then turned, hearing someone yelling out his name.

  ‘Phoenix? Phoenix Lyons!’

  A girl was running towards him, waving, her blonde hair flying. Suddenly his day was looking up. Phoenix patted his fringe to make sure it was sitting how he liked it, then slouched near the letterbox, trying to look casual. He squinted at the approaching figure, and his cool expression vanished. Oh no! Not her! He groaned inwardly. Not Jazz Mandell. She danced around the room every time she beat him in a maths test (which wasn’t that often, he reminded himself). She was some kind of budding amateur detective and always interrupted science class to ask the teacher something about forensic analysis. Since she’d found out his mum was actually a forensic scientist, he’d actively tried to avoid her. Why would she be ditching school to find him?

  As she caught up to him, puffing, he saw with surprise that she’d been crying. She was trying to hide it, looking down at the ground rather than straight at him, but it was obvious.

  ‘Phoenix, I need your help!’

  Phoenix wondered if he should ask what was wrong. Then he remembered his mantra: cool and nonchalant.

  ‘I don’t do tutoring. There are lots of good maths websites if you want help,’ he said casually.

  Jazz glared at him, her blue eyes suddenly clear and angry. ‘I’m not asking for tutoring,’ she said. ‘I’d rather not ask you for anything, ever, but this is really serious. Anika’s life might depend on it!’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Phoenix raised an eyebrow.

  ‘First you have to swear to total secrecy.’

  Phoenix rolled his eyes. ‘If you want me to join some kind of secret club, sorry, I don’t have time for that kind of thing. Maybe you should ask one of your girlfriends. Unless they’re not talking to you or something?’ He turned and walked up the path, trying to ignore the niggling truth that if there was anything he had in abundance rig
ht now it was time.

  Jazz came after him, pulling on his sleeve. ‘That’s just it! You don’t have to like me and I don’t have to like you, but I need your help! We have to collect evidence, find the clues and investigate what has happened. Oh, and I’ll need access to your mum’s lab so I can do the samples analysis. I mean we’ll need it—please, you have to help me, Phoenix!’

  ‘You’re not making any sense,’ Phoenix shouted at her, confused and annoyed. ‘Why would I let you into my mum’s lab? Is that what this is about? Why don’t you stop playing games and go back to school?’ He turned back towards his house and started walking away.

  ‘Phoenix Lyons! Listen to me!’ Jazz screeched at his back. She strode towards him and took a breath. More calmly and quietly she said, ‘What’s the use of having a brilliant mind like yours if you don’t use it to do something really good? Please, just look at this!’ Jazz held out her phone, a website displayed on the screen. The URL caught his eye.

  ‘That’s a heavily encrypted site,’ Phoenix said, intrigued despite himself. He read the post then looked at Jazz. The cool, nonchalant expression had vanished. Now Phoenix looked stunned. ‘What is this?’

  Jazz took a breath, clearly relieved to finally have his attention. ‘You know Anika Belmont? She lives around the corner from here.’

  Phoenix nodded.

  ‘She was taken—kidnapped—last night, from her own room! The kidnapper sent her parents that message this morning. They’re too scared to call the police. I need your help to investigate who took Anika and help me find her. Please, Phoenix.’

  He looked again at Jazz, seeing the fear and distress in her eyes. Phoenix could see now that Jazz wasn’t messing around. This was no game. This was for real, and very bad. He noticed his heart racing and his senses quickening. He felt more alive than he had in days.

  ‘She’s my best friend,’ Jazz continued. ‘Believe me, I wouldn’t normally say this, but I need your help. I need you to help me find her.’