Risk

by Fleur Ferris

‘Mum, I really need to talk to you.’ I tell her the story, ignoring her gasps. She listens without interrupting. A shadow comes over her eyes and the colour drains from her face.

  ‘We’ve got to tell Rachel. Right now.’ Her voice shakes and the absence of anger terrifies me. The seriousness of what has happened is suddenly epic.

  There’s a knock at the door. My stomach lurches. Maybe she’s here. Maybe she’ll fly in the door in her Taylor Wolfe shorts and say, ‘What’s all the fuss?’

  It’s Callum. He knows immediately that I didn’t wait. Mum is on the phone to Rachel. She’s repeating what I told her, over and over. Rachel is going to kill me. I just lied to her. Callum walks over and hugs me.

  ‘You’ve done the right thing,’ he says.

  Mum gets off the phone.

  ‘Grab your laptop,’ she says. ‘We’re going over to Rachel’s. She’s calling the police now. Callum, you go home. We don’t want any more mothers looking for their kids.’

  ‘Mum knows I’m here and I have my phone. I’d like to come.’

  ‘Look, Callum, I was really thinking of Rachel. Sorry. I think she’ll want privacy. Please, go on home.’

  Callum nods. When we get outside our house he turns to me.

  ‘No matter what the outcome is, if Sierra turns up in ten minutes’ time and it all hits the fan, you’ve still done the right thing. It sets a precedent. It tells her, “No more disappearing stunts.”’

  Tears well in my eyes but I hold them back. I look at him and hope with all my heart that he’s right, that Sierra is only a few blocks away, on her way home.

  When we get into the car, we don’t talk. I feel sick about seeing Rachel.

  Rachel’s door swings open before we can knock.

  ‘Tell me everything,’ she demands.

  ‘She went to meet a guy, on Friday night. She rang –’

  ‘From the start, Taylor. When and where did she meet this guy?’ Desperation radiates from her. Her stare is scaring me.

  ‘Ah …’ My voice shakes. ‘It was on Thursday, last week, when you arrived home from the States – you came over to our place. Sierra went on Mysterychat and started chatting to a guy.’

  ‘A guy? Who was it?’

  ‘I don’t know. Everyone on Mysterychat is a random. The guy’s name is Jacob Jones.’

  ‘So he says,’ Rachel turns to Mum. ‘He could be anyone.’

  ‘I believe that really is his name,’ I say.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because when you came to the door to collect Sierra, she gave him my email address. She didn’t know if she’d be able to check hers because of the bans. So I spoke to him, too.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me that,’ Mum interjects.

  I look to the floor.

  ‘Sorry,’ she says, ‘keep going, Taylor. You have to tell Rachel everything. Don’t leave anything out.’ Her voice is loaded with stress.

  ‘But when Jacob contacted me,’ I continue, ‘thinking I was Sierra, somehow we started exchanging emails and then chatted in Skippertychat. He seemed really nice. He sent a photo.’

  ‘Show me,’ Rachel demands.

  I boot up my computer and show Mum and Rachel the photo of Jacob.

  There’s a knock at the door. It’s two women in police uniform. Their presence magnifies the seriousness of the situation. It makes me think that something bad really could have happened to Sierra. Suddenly, being in trouble with Rachel isn’t important. Right now, finding Sierra is the only thing I care about.

  The police officers introduce themselves and sit down. Rachel talks fast, her voice and hands trembling. The police listen intently and after ten minutes of questions, they tell us that they are calling in a special unit dedicated to dealing with these types of incidents. While we wait, they keep chatting to me, keep asking me questions. They want the whole story. Their calmness seeps through us all. There is a knock at the door. Two more women walk into the room.

  ‘We’re from the Sexual Offences and Child Investigation Team.’ The words ring in my ears. This is surreal. I look them up and down. They are dressed in suits, not uniforms. One is in a skirt and heels and the other is in pants and flats.

  They speak to Rachel first. She tells them everything, but the story is a bit jumbled up. She’s nervous. She starts crying. I can’t stand to see it. I drop my eyes to the floor.

  ‘Has Sierra ever done anything like this before?’

  ‘No,’ Rachel says. ‘Never.’

  ‘Yes,’ I interrupt. My voice is gravelly. I clear my throat. ‘Yes, she’s done this before.’

  ‘What? When?’ Rachel is defensive, shocked, and I feel sorry for her.

  I look back to the floor. I feel so awkward and uncomfortable. Now I have to tell the police and Rachel about Sierra sneaking out and spending the night with Matt. My voice catches and I can’t speak. I start a few times but stop.

  ‘Taylor, I know this is very difficult for you,’ says the woman in heels. ‘You feel like you are going to get your friend into trouble. Would you rather talk to us alone?’

  ‘No. I want to hear this, please,’ Rachel interjects.

  I’d much rather talk to them without Rachel but I don’t want to say so in front of her.

  They look to Mum. ‘Are you Taylor’s mother?’

  ‘Yes,’ she says.

  ‘Would it be all right if we chat to Taylor in private?’

  ‘If you think it will help, yes.’

  ‘For god’s sake! This is my daughter we’re talking about. I want to hear this,’ Rachel protests.

  ‘At this stage, Rachel, we need to get all the facts – and as quickly as possible.’ The policewoman then turns to Mum. ‘Ms Gray, we’ll need to call in an independent person to be present when we talk to Taylor, in case anything she tells us needs to be admissible in court. Is that okay?’

  Court? The enormity and seriousness of this is escalating by the second.

  Mum nods. ‘It’s fine.’ It comes out as a whisper. She looks at Rachel. ‘Rachel, if it means getting the full story …’

  Rachel’s jaw clamps shut. She turns her head away from Mum and her eyes meet mine. I know I’m not helping her the way she wants; she’s so upset it sends a pain through my chest.

  We move from the lounge room to the dining room. Mum sits with me at the table until the ‘independent person’ arrives, then she goes back to sit with Rachel. The ‘independent person’ is about fifty, has a friendly smile and kind eyes. His name is Roger. The whole time I speak to the detectives, he doesn’t do or say anything. He just sits on the same side of the table as me.

  ‘Tell us about the time Sierra did something similar.’

  ‘She started seeing Matt, a guy she met through friends of friends on Facebook. He was eighteen, so a bit older than us. She’s always gone for older guys. She was staying at Riley’s one weekend and on one of the nights she started texting Matt. She told Riley she was going to go to meet him and asked Riley to cover for her.

  ‘But the thing is, Sierra didn’t come back that night when she said she would – and she didn’t call Riley, or text her, or anything. The next morning, Riley got up and lied to her mum and said Sierra was still sleeping. At lunchtime, Sierra finally did come back – she snuck in through Riley’s bedroom window, and then slept for the rest of the day. Riley was spewing about it because why didn’t Sierra just call? Sierra said her phone went flat and she didn’t think to use Matt’s.’

  ‘Is Sierra sexually active?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The detective writes down what I say.

  ‘You mentioned that Sierra was banned from using the internet. Tell me about that.’

  I take a deep breath.

  ‘She met some guys in a chat room and they asked for photos.’ I flush with embarrassment. ‘Ah, photos of … ah, her boobs. So she sent some. She was just joking around – she thought it was hilarious. She was never going to follow through with anything and you couldn’t tell it was Sierra. It was literally just her
boobs. Anyway, her mum found them on her phone and hit the roof.’

  ‘Did Sierra ever meet with the guys she sent the photos to?’

  ‘No! That’s what I’m saying. She only did it to be funny. Every guy you meet on these sites asks for photos of your boobs, but nothing ever goes further.’

  ‘What about on this occasion with Jacob Jones?’

  ‘He didn’t ask for those types of photos. He wasn’t like that.’ I tell them everything I know about him and about how Sierra used Cassy’s computer to chat with him all weekend. I show them my emails and both the photos Jacob sent. They ask about my friendship with Sierra. I tell them the whole story, from our mums and dads being friends to the IVF story and Dad dying.

  Suddenly I feel awful. I’ve painted a terrible picture of Sierra. I try to explain it to the officers.

  ‘I’ve made us sound pretty bad, but really, we don’t get up to much. And this chatting with strangers – we don’t often do it.’

  ‘Taylor, please don’t worry about what anyone is thinking about you or Sierra right now. No one is judging you,’ says one of the detectives.

  ‘Yeah, but I just want you to know we’re not like that …’ They don’t believe me. I look down at my hands, clasp them together and squeeze them so tightly that my knuckles go white. ‘Is this common?’

  ‘Disappearing? Yes,’ one of them says. ‘Your story – or Sierra’s story – is quite common. The thing is, I don’t really see Sierra as a typical runaway. I’d like to talk to her mother again.’

  We all walk back into the lounge room. Mum and Rachel stop talking and look to us. Mum has wet cheeks.

  The detectives sit down, one on each couch. The uniformed police have gone.

  ‘Rachel, given that no one has heard from Sierra since Friday night, we are going to notify the Major Crime Desk and a detective will be allocated to this case …’ The policewoman talks on in her official, detached language – e-crimes, investigation teams, Sexual Crimes Squad … I can tell that she is speaking slowly and is being careful with her words but they wash over me. They don’t sink in.

  Rachel stares at the detective, her face expressionless.

  ‘Rachel,’ the detective continues, ‘you said your husband is overseas?’

  ‘Yes. He works the northern ski season. It doesn’t finish until March or April. Dave and our eldest daughter, Cassy, stayed on to run our business.’

  The policewoman purses her lips. ‘I think you should notify your husband and get him back to Australia as soon as possible,’ she says.

  It’s the first human thing they have said and the fear it brings to Rachel’s eyes is palpable. Mum stops breathing for a moment and clasps at her chest. She puts her face into her hands and breaks down. Her shoulders move up and down with each quiet sob. My heart feels like it is being squeezed by a vice.

  This last comment – calling Dave and Cassy back from America – tells me one thing.

  Sierra isn’t just mucking around this time. There is definitely something wrong.

  More detectives arrive and though they introduce themselves, I quickly forget who they are and which squad they are from. Everything is happening so fast and they all look the same in black suits, black ties, short dark hair, and stony faces. They ask me the same questions over and over and I am so tired of answering them that I start to cry. They ignore my tears and push on. Roger says nothing. Ever.

  They take my computer and place it into a clear plastic bag. A detective writes ‘Exhibit 1’ on a white sticker which he sticks onto the bag. I don’t understand why they’ve taken it; it’s as if they don’t trust me. But they say something about it being important that they track my movements before we met Jacob. A couple of the detectives disappear into Sierra’s bedroom and come out with more labelled plastic bags. I see her school diary and her personal diary. She’d be horrified. They move on to Cassy’s bedroom. They bust open Cassy’s desk and take her computer, place it in a bag and label it, then go through all of her things.

  ‘Taylor, can we have your phone, please?’

  My stomach turns. I don’t want my phone to go into the clear bag.

  ‘Why?’ My voice is raw.

  ‘We need to examine your messages and retrieve numbers from it. We need a list of all Sierra’s friends.’ I look to Mum. She nods. I pass it over. My hand shakes. The detective is straight into it. He connects it to a computer and starts downloading my contact list and text messages. I try to think of what messages might be in there. And photos. This is so humiliating.

  ‘Was this phone used to communicate with Jacob?’

  ‘No.’ I’ve told them a thousand times I had no phone contact with him.

  When he’s done, my phone is placed in a bag, labelled and taken away.

  I’m winded. I try to breathe but I can’t draw in any air. My stomach clamps down. I stand, look around. I’m going to spew. I rush for the door. As soon as I’m outside, I projectile-vomit into the garden. I retch so violently it feels as if my stomach is going to throw itself out of my mouth. Mum rushes after me. She rubs my back, holds my hair and massages my shoulders while I heave again. A detective follows us outside.

  ‘I want to take her home,’ Mum says to him. ‘This is too overwhelming for her.’

  ‘We need to come with you. I’m really sorry, but we have to search Taylor’s room,’ he says.

  ‘Why?’ Mum’s voice is strained.

  ‘For clues. Anything that may help or give us a lead,’ he says. ‘We don’t think Taylor is keeping anything from us – she’s been most helpful – but we could find something that she may not realise is important.’

  ‘Of course. We’ll do anything if it might help.’ It’s all Mum seems to be able to say.

  A detective offers to drive us home in our car. Roger comes too. A detective in another car follows us.

  When we arrive at my bedroom, I sit on my desk chair in the doorway so I can see what they are doing. Mum sits on the bed, and Roger leans against the wall near the door.

  I hand over my tablet. It goes into a labelled bag. The detectives go through my desk drawers. They pull out the piece of paper that has Jacob’s name all over it, with love hearts decorating my signature as Taylor Jones. Heat creeps into my neck and moves up to my face. I didn’t tell them I liked Jacob, too.

  I look at Mum. Her hands make their way to her face and over her mouth. Her eyes close. She has it all worked out, I can tell. She knows why I started my early-morning jogs. She knows why I was short with her on Monday – that I would have had a fight with Sierra over something about Jacob. She knows I would have galloped off to meet him in a heartbeat.

  ‘Mum … I …’ I can’t finish it.

  The detectives have stopped searching my room. They want details.

  ‘This is really important, Taylor. Would you like to speak with us in private?’

  ‘No … I want Mum here,’ I say, and burst into tears.

  Mum slides across the bed and stands beside me with her hand on my shoulder.

  ‘He contacted me, like I said at Rachel’s,’ I whisper. ‘I didn’t know Sierra was also in contact. I liked him … I thought he felt the same.’ I look at Mum. ‘If he had wanted to meet me, I would have gone.’

  Mum stares straight ahead and rubs my back.

  ‘On Monday I was so excited.’ I’m talking to Mum now. ‘I was going to tell Sierra that I had stolen her Mysterychat guy. But she told me first – that she was going to meet him on Friday. I felt so stupid. She wanted me to go with her, but I was too embarrassed to meet him.’ I’m crying so hard I find it difficult to speak. ‘I should have gone. But I was so angry and … and …’

  Mum bites the inside of her cheek. Her breathing is shaky.

  The detective makes no attempt to comfort me or to put my mind at ease. He tells Mum that counselling will be provided for us in due course.

  ‘Is there anything else you’re keeping from us?’

  I know they have to ask questions; I know they just
want to find Sierra. But the way he asks upsets me. They’ve made me really confused. I don’t know what I have to tell and what I can keep private. Do I have to tell them about making out with Callum? It’s kind of related to Jacob, I guess …

  I shake my head. ‘There’s nothing else,’ I say.

  ‘Where did you chat and how long were you online with him? It’s really important we know everything, Taylor. It tells us something about Jacob Jones. If he is predatory he may be talking to others, too.’

  I answer their questions again and again, over and over. Nothing has changed since I told them this at Sierra’s place. My story stays the same, apart from the bit where I fall for him, too. I start to fret about Rachel finding out that I refused to go with Sierra even though she asked me to. Will they tell her that?

  The detective’s phone rings. He doesn’t leave the room to take it.

  ‘No. We’ll go to Callum’s after here,’ he says. ‘I want you to question Riley McDonald and her boyfriend Joel. Search their rooms. Stress how important it is we know everything, even if they think it’s not important.’

  Bile bites at the back of my throat at the sound of Callum’s name. I feel the blood drain from my face. He will tell them about us … I already look really bad in all of this. Sierra and I both do.

  ‘Do you keep a diary?’

  ‘No. Not anymore,’ I answer.

  ‘When did you keep one?’

  ‘After Dad died.’ My voice starts to waver. I don’t want them to take it. That diary is a part of my soul.

  ‘Can I please see it?’ he asks.

  I drop to the floor, snake under the bed and pull it out from its hiding spot.

  ‘Who are you hiding it from?’

  ‘Ah, no one … no one in particular.’ What is he getting at?

  ‘What else do you have hidden in this room?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Taylor. Your friend is missing. She could be in grave danger. There could be something in here that you don’t even realise is a clue, something that could help us find Sierra. We need to know everything you know. Even if you don’t think it’s important.’

  I know, I feel like saying. You’ve told me a thousand times already.