Now You See Her

by Paul J. Teague

  Cabera was full of questions, which he put to Bianca at machine gun speed.

  ‘Where did you find it? Was there anything else nearby? Are you certain it's Poppy's? Could you show us the precise location? Was this mud there when you found it?’

  Bianca answered calmly and confidently, like she was an old hand at being interrogated by the police.

  When Cabera saw the name marked on the label, he called over a couple of officers and got the toy bagged and taken into the school.

  ‘Ask the mother about the toy,’ he said. ‘I want to know everything about it. Did the kid have it at school today? Did she leave school with it, or did someone steal it? I need to know everything about that toy. Ask the teachers, too.’

  Cory watched as a pizza delivery guy handed over several flat boxes to another officer who was standing at the doors at the school entrance. He guessed Reece was still in there, along with the teachers. It was a long, hard day for all of them.

  ‘You did well, Bianca,’ Cabera said. ‘A tip for next time, though. Try to leave anything you find where it is. There may be evidence around it that we can use. But don't worry, this is good—it helps us big time.’

  Cory could tell Bianca wasn’t sure how to respond to what the deputy had just said. Cabera walked off to grab himself a slice of pizza before it made its way into the school.

  ‘It's okay, you did well,’ Cory reassured her. ‘That toy would still be sitting in a puddle if you hadn't found it. If Poppy has been taken, it will help the police figure out which way she was driven.’

  Bianca perked up.

  ‘Come on, let's get this story filed and find something to eat. The smell of that pizza is reminding me how long it’s been since we both ate.’

  Cory was relieved when his car started the first time. He was so hungry that he didn't have the energy left to mess around with the engine.

  ‘Lacey's Diner okay?’ Cory asked.

  Bianca nodded, so he pulled over and parked farther down the road.

  There were two diners in Shallow Falls, and Lacey's was the most popular. It was a traditional diner, just the way the local residents liked it. Need 24/7 coffee on tap and a burger that'll destroy your heart but blow your mind for taste? Lacey's was the place to go.

  There were a few people dotted about the place. As he walked in, Cory gave a noncommittal wave to Spencer Jones, who was at the far side of the premises, emptying one beer, with the next bottle already delivered to his side.

  ‘Who's that?’ Bianca asked.

  ‘Spencer Jones—retired magistrate, Shallow Falls busybody, and occasional drunkard. Scratch that—frequent drunkard. It seems he hasn't taken too well to retirement. Or some might say it suits him very well, particularly when he likes a beer.’

  They placed their orders and Cory steered her to a table that was well away from Spencer and separate from the other diners.

  ‘I don't want anybody listening in to our conversation. They have to buy the paper to read this information,’ he said with a smile.

  He took out his laptop from the bag at his side, fired it up, and connected to the diner's Wi-Fi. Within minutes, he was tapping at the keyboard, updating the breaking news story online, writing the first few lines of the newspaper version for that week's printed edition, and transferring images of Poppy's toy to the office system so that his colleagues could access them the next day. Sometimes Cory wondered how reporters managed in the old days, before the internet.

  He became aware of somebody approaching from behind. Thinking it was their server, he tilted the top of the laptop downward so as to conceal the image of Poppy's toy.

  ‘If ya ask me, that woman got what she deserves.’

  It was Spencer Jones. Sitting well away from him hadn't been a sufficient deterrent; he was intent on making conversation. Cory could smell the beer on his breath.

  Spencer sat down next to Bianca, pushing her out of the way as he dropped down unceremoniously at her side. She made a face at Cory.

  ‘How can I help you, Spencer? I'm a bit busy writing up this story at the moment, to be honest with you.’

  ‘That young girl—her trailer is nothing short of a whorehouse, what with all those men coming in an’ out all the time.’

  ‘Easy, Spencer—that's a bit much,’ Cory tried to protest.

  Bianca's body language said it all.

  Spencer took a long swig from his bottle.

  ‘She got what she asked for, if ya ask me. All those children, all those fathers, it's a right ol' mess. And that ol' trailer of hers, that piece of junk cluttering up the town. I guess you get what's comin' to ya, that's all I can say.’

  Cory could see Bianca was about to lay into him. He held up his hand slightly to give her a gentle warning. He knew Spencer Jones from way back. He might be retired, but he still had influence in the town. Bianca would do well not to cross him if she wanted to keep a low profile.

  ‘That poor kiddie of hers is probably better off. She probably found some responsible adult who knows how to take care of her.’

  Bianca could stay silent no longer.

  ‘You do know that what you're saying is highly slanderous, don't you, Mr. Jones? As a former magistrate, you of all people should know that Reece Norman has the same rights as everybody else in this country, whatever you think about her lifestyle.’

  ‘Aren't you the Williams girl?’ Spencer asked, looking at her closely now. Bianca drew back at the smell of his breath and flinched as he leaned in uncomfortably close.

  ‘Yes, what of it?’ she answered, more defensively than Cory had expected.

  ‘You're the one who caused all that trouble at the high school, ain't ya?’

  Bianca's face reddened and, not for the first time that day, Cory's finely-tuned antennae detected an incoming signal.

  ‘Yeah, I know ya. Real piece of work. You're the one who got banned from the school prom and left out of the year book because of what you did. First time ever in Shallow Falls’ history. Nope, it never ever happened before. Sounds to me like you're defending Reece Norman because you’re a pair of peas in a pod.’

  Chapter Seven

  It took Cory some time to get Spencer Jones to move on from their table, but he saw the relief on Bianca's face the moment he finally stood up and headed back to his spot at the other side of the diner.

  ‘I'm sorry you had to sit through that,’ he said. ‘Are you all right?’

  She didn't look all right, but she nodded anyway.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it, or would you rather I leave well enough alone? None of it makes any difference to me—Spencer Jones stopped making sense a long time ago.’

  Bianca shuffled in her seat and looked out the window into the parking lot.

  ‘It's almost fully dark now. That poor child. Reece Norman must be out of her mind with worry.’

  Cory followed her gaze. It was starting to rain, too. Large drops began to pound against the diner’s windows.

  ‘It was just something that happened at school,’ Bianca began. ‘I had some problems with… some people in my year at school. They made life difficult for me. The school blamed me about an incident there. It's difficult to recover from something like that at my age. The principal agreed to write me a clean set of references if I took the rap. The penalty was writing me out of school history. No prom, no yearbook—that was the deal. I had to take it; mom and dad said it could mess up my life if I didn't.’

  Cory had covered enough news stories to know that there were always many points of view when it came to a sensitive issue. For every proposed new building, there was always the builder who'd make a profit and provide employment with it, the landowner who stood to make good money from it, and the people who lived in the surrounding area who'd be concerned about road access, views disappearing, property values, and so on. Every dispute was a tight knot that had to be picked apart. Either way, he liked Bianca, so he decided to go with his gut on this one.

  The sound of a voice at the count
er distracted him.

  ‘I think that's the last beer now, don't you, Mr. Jones?’

  Spencer Jones was demanding another bottle, but the waitress was having none of it. If Spencer hadn’t drunk enough when he joined Cory and Bianca at their table, he had now; he was growing belligerent and aggressive. Cory watched, wondering if he should step in and help the waitress. Two men, a couple of tables away, were obviously thinking the same thing.

  ‘A man can't even get a beer in this town no more,’ Spencer slurred. ‘I spent my working life looking after everybody round here, and what do I get in return? Let me tell you, there are things in this town that would make the hairs on your neck stand up on end…’

  ‘That's enough now, Mr. Jones. It's time for you to be leaving.’

  Tom Lacey, the owner of the diner, had seen fit to come down and intervene, alerted by another of the waitresses. He was wearing slippers and a cardigan, evidently interrupted while watching television. He seemed annoyed, but showed Spencer Jones polite respect.

  Cory wondered how many drunks Lacey had had to throw out over the years. He was probably quite an expert at it by now, considering he looked close to retirement age, if not past it already. Some people in Shallow Falls never seemed to retire. If Tom Lacey wasn't careful, he'd become one of them.

  ‘He's going,’ Cory said to Bianca. ‘Thank heavens Tom came down to sort it out. I thought I was going to have to get involved there.’

  The rain was coming down heavily now, beating down like tiny pebbles on the wooden roof above their heads.

  ‘What do you think he meant by that?’ Bianca asked. ‘The bit about things going on in the town?’

  ‘He's drunk, Bianca—ignore him. People can say some stupid things when they've had one too many beers. Besides, remember what I said about journalistic work? You need to listen to everything but always reserve judgment; most things are not what they seem. A reporter's job is to listen to all sides of the story, then weave it together to get to the truth. It's not unlike being in the police, except we just write the story—the cops have to do all the hard work and dangerous stuff.’

  ‘Look at that rain. Do you think they'll call the search off now?’ Bianca asked.

  ‘It won't help matters, that's for sure. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to try to get an interview with Reece Norman. We could do with a decent picture of Poppy for the newspaper, to help get the word out.’

  Cory noticed Bianca tensed.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘It feels a bit insensitive calling on Reece when she must be going crazy with worry.’

  ‘People complain about the press sometimes,’ Cory began. ‘But if we get the word out about that little girl, it's going to help Reece in the long term. Sure, it'll be hard for her. But we're here to help, not to hinder.’

  Cory continued typing up his news story, then tilted his laptop so that Bianca could take a look.

  ‘I'm going to file that now—it'll go live on the website right away and sit in the template we use for the weekly edition of the newspaper. This is now a missing child news story, whatever the police are saying officially. We'll splash it all over the paper on Friday. Most importantly, we need pictures of the child. We'll have to ask Reece for those tomorrow.’

  Two police officers stepped into the diner, shaking themselves like wet dogs on the huge doormat at the entrance to avoid dripping all over the tiled floor. Cory didn't recognize them; they must have come from the next town.

  ‘Good evening, officers. Have you been involved in the search for Poppy Norman?’ Cory asked. ‘I'm local press, from the Tribune. Cory Miles.’

  ‘Hey, Cory,’ the first officer replied, ‘I've read your stuff. It's good to meet you. We've been up by the woods and falls at the edge of town. The chief has spread the search area. It's hellish out there—the ground is wet and deadly slippery. If that poor kid has wandered off the roads, she's in for a hard night.’

  ‘Are they out there now?’ Cory asked. ‘By the falls?’

  The second officer nodded.

  ‘They're probably going to call it off until daylight—it's too dark and dangerous now.’

  ‘Sherri,’ Cory called over to the waitress, ‘I'd like to settle my bill. And please would you get these officers whatever they'd like to drink? Two coffees, I'm guessing?’

  ‘You bet! And strong ones, too. Thanks, Cory, it's appreciated.’

  ‘You're doing valuable work out there, officers—it's the least I can do.’

  With the two officers served, the story filed, and the bill settled, Cory nodded to Bianca, indicating it was time to leave. They ran out to the car and got in as quickly as possible, still getting drenched over the short distance from the diner.

  ‘Okay if I take a run out to the falls and just see what's going on? Then I'll drop you off at home, I promise.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ Bianca said. ‘It's interesting.’

  Cory felt himself making a wish before starting the car. He had to get that part replaced; it was getting ridiculous. The car started and he felt himself relaxing.

  The drive to Shallow Falls took them past Reece Norman's trailer at the edge of town. He'd passed it a thousand times, but had thought nothing of it—as if it was part of the town's furnishings. There was a police car parked outside and he could see that the lights were on inside the trailer. He couldn't help but feel for Reece, thinking about what she was going through.

  The moment he passed the trailer, they were into woodland. He switched on his high beams as they left behind the streetlights and drove into the wet, dismal darkness of a rain-saturated woodland. At Devil's Corner, he slowed right down and took the car around it gently.

  ‘You can never be too careful right there,’ he said to Bianca. ‘When you start driving for real, be really careful on that stretch of road—it can be deadly.’

  As they came around the curve of Devil's Corner, they were immediately greeted by a cluster of police cars, flashlights, and generator-powered floodlights. Cory pulled up by a small group of police officers who were huddled under the branches of a large tree, keeping the rain off as best they could. Cory lowered his window.

  ‘How's it going?’ he asked.

  ‘Hey, Cory, that's it for the night—the chief has called it off until first light. It's far too dangerous in this weather. We're back at six o'clock tomorrow morning. There'll be officers posted out here all night, but that's it for now.’

  Cory nodded and closed the car window. The rain had driven in as they were speaking, and his pant leg was wet.

  ‘Is there anybody you don't know in this town?’ Bianca asked.

  ‘Yes, lots of residents,’ Cory said with a smile. ‘It's just that, as a reporter, you get to know certain people. It helps with the job—the more of them that are happy to speak to you, the better.’

  Cory turned the car around, making the most of the large parking area at the side of Shallow Falls. He was calling it a night; the next day would be long and possibly very difficult. If they found Poppy, all well and good. If they found a body—God forbid—it would be a dark and terrible day for the entire town.

  Bianca directed Cory back through the streets to her home, where he dropped her off and waited until she was safely through the door before moving away. She lived in a nice part of town: pleasant detached houses, wide roads, two-car garages and well-tended gardens. He wondered what had happened to get her kicked out of school like that.

  He was still churning it over in his mind when he pulled up outside his own apartment. Luckily, there was a parking space on the street outside his house. He sensed there was something not right before he saw it. As he locked up the car and walked towards his door, he spotted something on the pathway. Moving closer, he realized it was a brick. The small glass pane at the top of the door was untouched, so he checked the windows to the side. His bedroom window had been cracked.

  There was no sign of a break-in; the damage was superficial, as if the brick had been thrown from a pa
ssing vehicle. His immediate guess was an attempted burglary or kids causing trouble. But there was something about the timing of it, on the night of Poppy's abduction, that made every journalistic bone in his body scream out that there was something much more to it than that.

  Chapter Eight

  Tuesday - Day 2

  Cory nearly slept in the following morning, thanks to the boarded-up window blacking out his bedroom and preventing the light from waking him. He automatically reached out his arm for Nadia. It was force of habit; he wondered when he'd stop doing that.

  He'd been up late waiting for the glazing team to arrive. They were as reluctant to be out so late as he was to be there waiting for them to finish the job. But there was no way he was leaving it wide open. The landlord said he'd get it fixed properly the next day.

  It was six o'clock. The moment Cory opened the door of his small bedroom, the dim, early-morning light spilled in from the rest of the apartment, revealing a lovely day, the complete opposite of the torrential rain the night before. Any town with water figuring in its name is bound to get its fair share of rain, and Shallow Falls was no exception.

  Cory decided to skip breakfast in favor of getting in an early run. He knew which route he would take to make an early call at Shallow Falls. He pulled on his shorts and t-shirt, tied up the laces on his running shoes, and left the house, checking carefully to make sure the door was locked properly.

  Cory liked jogging; it helped him get things sorted in his head. It often helped him make connections in news stories, too. There was something about the rhythmic motion and the mindlessness of it which enabled him to take a detached view of things. He started at a slow trot, feeling the bright sunshine on his face and squinting from its glare as he turned onto the main street. The sidewalk was completely dry, as if the rain of the previous night had never happened.

  The Shallow Falls road was not Cory's normal route. It could be a bit winding for his tastes, but he'd done it a couple of times before and it was a decent enough circuit. To the falls and back would be roughly three miles, so he'd be back, fed, and showered well before half-past seven, in plenty of time to pick up Bianca at eight o' clock.