It took longer to deal with the police over the matter of the crows than Cory would have liked. At Reece's request, he kept quiet about the letter, but he felt conflicted; what if the letter held the key to Poppy's disappearance? He consoled himself that there were no clues on the envelope or the letter itself. Any fingerprint evidence would be long gone, considering their circuitous journey through the mail system and the endless pawing by Reece.
Cory couldn't accuse Tarrant's team of skimping over anything: they were thorough and professional. The crows had been dead for some time, possibly the day before. Neither Bianca nor the children had seen or heard anything. The sound of the gunshot had come from the adjoining woodland, but the officers said the two things might not be related—the gun could belong to a poacher or even a farmer. Cory was skeptical about that, and he could tell that Reece was, too.
Officer Ambrose was in the doghouse for leaving her post. She'd have gotten away with it if it wasn't for the crows. Word came down the food chain that Reece was to be under supervision at all times, in case news came in.
Cory was pleased to see Officer Louise Powell had been called to the scene. They'd struck up quite a friendship in the time he'd been reporting on the paper and they got on well, finding each other easy company.
‘Hey, Cory, good to see you again! I can tell you're sinking your journalistic teeth deep into this news story.’
As she smiled, her face lit up and her eyes sparkled. He liked her positivity; he needed a bit more of that in his life.
‘How's the case going? I guess two dead crows don't help?’
‘Probably some wacko with a grudge against Reece. They all come out of the woodwork at times like these. Poor woman, she's been two days without Poppy now. I can't imagine what it's like to be in that position.’
‘Any news on Xander Griffen that won't land you in trouble with the chief if you share it with me?’
Louise looked around. Officer Ambrose was close by. She moved up to Cory.
‘What are you doing this evening? Can you join me for a drink?’
Cory was taken aback for a moment.
‘It's strictly professional,’ she added. ‘I can't speak freely here, but there are a couple of things I can share with you. Are you up for it?’
Other than calling Nadia to apologize and to chat with Zach before bedtime, Cory's schedule appeared to be clear that evening. It was clear most evenings.
‘Yeah, sure. Not Lacey's, though, if you don't mind. Spencer Jones has made it his evening haunt, and I don't want to have to chase him away all night. How about that new wine bar that opened recently?’
‘Chez Nous?’ Louise offered.
‘That's the place—how about we meet there at, say, eight o' clock?’
‘It's a date.’ Louise smiled, then corrected herself. ‘It's a professional meeting to discuss pressing business matters.’
She gave Cory an impish smile and he returned it. He felt the excitement of collusion and a frisson of something that he couldn't put his finger on. He liked Louise, and that was that. He had a son to think about and a marriage that was down but not yet out.
‘Are we good to go here, officer?’ Cory called over to the senior officer on site. He got the nod and caught Bianca's attention. She was still playing with Toni and Megan, and the color had now returned to her cheeks.
As Bianca finished off whatever game she was playing, Cory moved over to Reece, who was sitting on the lower step of the trailer. He kept his voice low as he spoke to her.
‘You sure you're going to keep that letter quiet? It might be better to let on.’
She nodded.
‘Yes, let's keep it to ourselves for now. If I thought for one minute it would help me find Poppy, I'd let the police know.’
She began to sob, and Cory felt a desperate need to offer some comfort to her. But what could he say? She'll turn up safe? It'll all blow over? The simple truth was—and they both knew it—the longer that Poppy was missing, the greater the chance she'd be identifying a body, not picking up her little girl from the police station.
‘I'm sorry, Reece, really I am. I promise you, we're doing all we can at the newspaper to get the word out far and wide that Poppy's missing. If you think of anything else, you have my number.’
Bianca was waiting for him at a diplomatic distance now. She'd left the girls and was ready to leave.
‘Let's hope this car starts,’ Cory said to her. ‘I don't want a big performance about it when we have such a crowd watching.’
It didn't start right away, but it did start the second time, without Cory having to lift the hood and do his trick of tapping the starter motor.
‘The internet says it's something to do with the brushes inside the motor. They're worn or something. Sometimes they make contact, sometimes they don't. A gentle tap usually fixes it. Eventually, it'll just stop working altogether.’
He looked at the clock on the dashboard.
‘I'm not getting over to Kelsey Baker's yard today—I'm going to have to file updates for the newspaper. Shall we grab a bite to eat on the way back to the office? I'm starving—I assume you are, too?’
It was late afternoon by the time they got back to their desks, pre-packed sandwiches and sodas in their hands. Oliver Vasey brought Cory up to date with the layout of that Friday's special supplement, which had been mocked up on his computer screen.
‘Mitchell might extend the coverage tomorrow,’ Vasey began. ‘It depends if the kid turns up—so keep these photos and the profile info flowing. Anything to report from today?’
‘I've got more profile and background information to add, a couple of comments from police officers and so on. But nothing substantial.’
‘What about the crows?’ Bianca asked, then stopped dead, picking up on the glare that Cory had just given her.
‘Crows?’ Vasey asked.
‘Oh, it's nothing.’ Bianca recovered the situation. ‘Just a bit of a scare we had while we were out in the car. Nothing to do with a disappearing child.’
Oliver nodded and returned to tapping away at his PC.
Once installed back at their desks, Bianca came seeking answers from Cory.
‘Why didn't you mention the crows?’ she asked.
‘A couple of reasons,’ Cory replied. ‘First is that it's probably the work of some weirdo. They tend to come out around cases like this. They can confuse the issue and set the police along the wrong path. Secondly, the senior officer at Reece's trailer asked me not to, for that very reason…’
‘Do you always let the police decide what you say?’
Cory looked at her. She was clearly struggling with a basic journalistic principle: that of oiling the wheels.
He owed her some patience after his earlier bad-tempered displays that day.
‘Think of it as information management. Sometimes the police don't want us to share certain pieces of information. We're here to help the police, not hinder them. If I thought releasing that information about the crows would help find Poppy, I'd do it in an instant. But I agree with the police. It's unsettling and it's not a good development, but it probably is the work of a weirdo. So, for now, it's best kept quiet.’
The remainder of the afternoon was spent filing news copy, importing new photographs and making check calls. Xander was still being questioned, but no charges had been made. Imogen Franklin hadn't gotten back to him. It was a little annoying, but she had told them she was short-staffed. And he’d sneaked off into one of the abandoned conference rooms to make a call, smoothing things over with Nadia and checking in on Zach.
‘Is it okay if I drop you near my apartment?’ he said to Bianca as they were leaving the office. ‘Are you okay to walk from there? It's a little closer to your house.’
‘Yes, no problem,’ she replied. ‘I appreciate you giving me so many rides. I'll be fine. In fact, if you drop me off on the main street, I'll pick up some bits and pieces to take home. It'll keep me in Mom's good books.’
C
ory stopped the car as close as he could to where she needed to be, without leaving himself running late for Louise. As Bianca walked off, he made a final check call into the police station to see if Xander had been charged. There was still no news.
He ended the call and moved to start the car. Something along the street caught his eye. It was only because there was something not quite right about it that he was even giving it a second glance. He strained his eyes to get a better look. Some young guy looked like he was getting very heated up about something or other. His body language said it all: cocky, confrontational, and arrogant. He was shouting at some young woman.
It was Bianca. She looked upset, so he pulled his keys out of the ignition, ready to step in and lend his support. He stepped out of the car, but Bianca walked off and the man—youth—whatever he was, walked away in the opposite direction. Cory stood and watched for a few moments to make sure that Bianca was safe.
Once he was satisfied Bianca was in no immediate trouble, he got back in the car. He'd ask her about it the next day, to see if he could help with anything. It was probably none of his business; for all he knew, it could be boyfriend trouble. He'd tread carefully, making sure he wasn't interfering where he wasn't wanted.
By the time he was sitting in Chez Nous with a glass of red wine at his side, he was feeling good. He'd forgotten about the episode with Bianca, had time for a shower and even managed to make arrangements through the landlord for the glazier to come and fix the window. And he didn't have to drive that night; Chez Nous was within walking distance of home.
Louise Powell looked like a completely different person out of her uniform, wearing her hair down. It was a stunning length and made her look spectacular as she entered the wine bar. She was wearing a dress, too; Cory had seen her in her uniform pants so many times now that he'd almost forgotten wearing a dress was an option.
She walked up to him, smiling, and ordered herself a white wine.
‘Busy day?’ Cory asked.
‘You can say that again. A chilled white wine is exactly what I'm after.’
The conversation was easy, moving quickly from that day's incident with the crows to matters that weren't work-related: Zach's progress at school, Louise's new house, Cory's car problems, and Louise's mom’s health. As they chatted and laughed, Cory noticed Louise moving a little closer. The bar was busy—it was probably so that she could hear him better over the sound of the chatter.
‘What is it you wanted to discuss with me?’ Cory asked. ‘You mentioned something earlier at Reece's trailer?’
Louise tensed a little, now Cory was moving the conversation into slightly less personal territory.
‘Yes, you're right, we've been gossiping away all evening like a couple of… well, yes, I did have something to tell you. It might be something, it might be nothing. It's Chief Tarrant. He's busting balls to get an arrest on Xander Griffin. He's determined that the interviewing officers find something and make it stick.’
‘What have they got to go on? Anything?’
‘That's just it. I know Officer Mansfield, and he thinks Xander is clean. The chief seems to want to hang the whole thing on him being a bit weird. But let's face it, if we were all arrested because we do odd things now and again, we'd all be in jail.’
Cory laughed. She joined in and as she moved forward, she placed her hand on his knee, as much to steady herself as anything.
Cory stopped for a moment as something hung in the air between them, something he couldn't put his finger on. They were looking at each other, neither saying a thing, caught in a silent moment in time.
Louise leaned forward, as if she were moving in to give him a kiss. For a moment, Cory considered reciprocating, but instead got up from his stool abruptly.
‘I'm sorry, Louise, really sorry. I still need to sort things out with Nadia. We've got to do right by Zach. I have to go…’
Cory walked out of the bar, leaving Louise to figure out for herself what had just happened.
Chapter Fifteen
Wednesday - Day 3
Cory woke to the sound of his phone ringing. His mouth felt as dry as if he'd gargled with sand before going to bed the night before. He swallowed a couple of times to get his saliva glands working before picking up the call, trying to check the number but unable to focus on the digits.
‘Cory Miles speaking…’
His voice was so weak that he couldn't quite make it to the end of the sentence.
‘Hello, Mr. Miles, it's Imogen Franklin from the library.’
Jeez, what time is it?
Cory moved his phone closer, then further away from his eyes, trying desperately to find a focal point. It was after eight o'clock. He'd missed his run and would have to rush at the speed of a miser with a coupon code to get in to work on time. And there was Bianca to pick up, too.
‘Hi, Imogen, have you got that information we were talking about?’
‘Yes, some of it's here at Shallow Falls, but I'm going to have to request some of it from the county branch. They have more storage space than we do. Is that okay? It's not a rush job is it?’
‘No, no, it's all good, Imogen, thank you.’
He could feel his voice working properly now; his eyes were beginning to adjust to the light and his brain had kicked in, too. It was the plywood panel that was covering the smashed window that had done it: the morning sunshine which normally shone in at that time of day couldn't break through. He'd been like a parakeet with a blanket thrown over its cage. It was a good thing Imogen had called.
‘You start early at the library,’ Cory said.
‘Well, I'm pleased I caught you. I've seen you jogging around the town at this time of day. Did you have a good run this morning?’
Cory mumbled a reply and thanked Imogen for making the call. He switched off the phone and decided to go around to view the documents she had so far before picking up Bianca from her home.
He surprised himself how fast he could get showered, dressed, and fed with a slice of toast. The car even obliged him by starting the first time. Cory felt it was going to be a good day.
The library was quiet when he walked through the heavy doors. It was still before nine o'clock and the public hadn't bothered to turn up yet. Imogen was busying herself at the reception desk, getting ready for the day ahead.
‘Good morning, Imogen. Thanks for digging out that information—I know you're busy.’
‘Well, since my husband died, I'm just pleased to have this library to come to. We don't even open until half past nine today, but I honestly don't know what I'd do with myself if I wasn't here. Perhaps watch television all day. After a life reading books, that's not something I'm prepared to consider.’
‘Good for you,’ Cory smiled. Then the memory of how he'd walked away from Louise the night before came back to him. He cringed. What was he, some hormone-fueled youngster incapable of expressing himself? She had just caught him off guard. It was another apology he'd need to make, something he seemed to be doing a lot of recently.
‘Here are the documents,’ Imogen said, sliding them across the counter. ‘I'm sorry I couldn't get everything you were after, but I promise I'll let you know as soon as the rest arrives. Have they found young Poppy yet? Are they any further forward?’
‘Still no breakthrough,’ Cory replied, shuffling through the papers that he'd been handed. ‘This is fascinating. That piece of land has been in Reece Norman's family for generations. Does she have any idea, do you think?’
‘I doubt it, Cory. Do you think she'd be living in that trailer if she did? It must be worth a pretty penny, I'd think.’
Imogen had placed some newspaper clippings in the file, too. They included the reports from the Tribune about the fire that destroyed Reece's house.
‘My God, it was quite some place in its day. Look at this: was that really where those charred remains are now?’
‘Yes. It used to be quite some property. All built of wood, of course. It went up in flames in no time; th
ere wasn't a chance of saving it.’
‘Any insurance involved? It must have been insured?’
‘Well, that I do remember. The house had been on that plot for many decades. It was owned outright and was never insured. I assume that's why Reece has to live in that trailer.’
‘The land must be worth something, though? If she sold it off as building plots…’
‘Well, that's where you'll have to speak to somebody who knows more about those matters than me. Someone who knows about a register of deeds or something like that will be able to steer you in the right direction.’
‘This is great. Thanks, Imogen. Okay if I make some copies?’
‘Those are copies, Cory. I knew you'd want to take them with you.’
Cory tucked the paperwork into the folder that Imogen had provided and thanked her again for her trouble. He'd need to head over to pick up Bianca; she'd be expecting him.
Cory inserted the key and attempted to start the car. There was nothing. He tried again. Then a third time. He leaned over to flick up the hood and tapped the starter motor, then returned to start the car again. Five minutes later he gave up. There was no way that engine was firing up until he fixed the starter. Baker's junkyard was getting a visit that day, whether he liked it or not. He hoped Kelsey had the part he needed.
Cory phoned in to the office to let them know that he'd be showing his face late. Then he updated Bianca on his movements.
‘Hey, Bianca, it's Cory. Sorry, but I'm going to be late. I have to walk over to the junkyard. The car has given up on me—it's stuck outside the library. I'll let you know how I make out, but you may need to get a lift or walk in today.’
Bianca was fine with that and said she'd start walking over.
He paused a moment, wondering if he should ask about the incident he'd witnessed the previous night. He went for it, even though he knew he should probably keep his mouth shut.
‘Was everything okay when I left you last night, Bianca? You weren't in any trouble or anything? It's just I saw you with some young guy…’
Now You See Her Page 8
