One Single Thing

by Tina Clough

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure he said Bellevue, number 152.’

  ‘This is 152 – perhaps you have remembered the wrong number? Or could it be Bellwood? They sound quite similar, don’t they? Do you know where it is? Over by Eden Park. My nephew lives there.’

  Out of the corner of my eye I see a small figure walking away from Stuart’s garage. I thank the old man for his suggestion and by the time I am back on the sidewalk Dao is fifty metres ahead of me.

  ‘I put it under the edge of the tray at the back,’ she says when I catch up with her. ‘It’s stuck on really tight and it’s far enough in under the tray, so you don’t notice it. I checked who could see the side door before I went in and it’s only the house straight across the road. I hope nobody was watching.’

  ‘If they did they probably wouldn’t bother to tell Stuart. And if they do he’ll just check nothing was stolen.’

  We get into the car and I take a proper look at her. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing, really. There was a bundle, like a big messy roll of stuff, on the tray. It gave me a fright. You know that sort of heavy, stiff stuff – what’s it called?’

  ‘A tarpaulin?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s it. When I first saw it, I thought it might be Hope – her body, I mean. But I pushed my arm inside and it’s just rolled up loosely. There’s nothing inside.’

  She says nothing else for a few minutes, then she turns her head to look at me. ‘That tarpaulin – he might have used it when he took her, you know. What if he had it laid out flat on his truck, and he had parked just outside the door at Hope’s building. Say she opened the door and he stepped into that little space at the bottom of the stairs and knocked her out with that drug, whatever it was. If he was quick, if he did it early evening when all the places had closed, he could lift her onto the tray of the truck and wrap the tarpaulin around her – and nobody would see it.’

  ‘You are right – that could be how he did it. That street would be very quiet by six – not too late for a police officer to call. And then he just needed to find somewhere secluded to park the truck and tie her up securely before he took her away.’

  We say nothing more about it and head for Kingston Street. Dao calls Tama and we manage a perfect drive-by drop, just like in the movies. I pull in to the side in front of a double-parked courier van. Dao is ready with her window down and passes a tracker in its magnetic box to Tama, who is waiting on the sidewalk. We are stationary for no more than a second before I filter out into the traffic again.

  Early on Saturday morning we are dressed and ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Scruff gets excited at the unusual activity and follows us around, tail wagging, hoping for an outing.

  ‘Do we take him or leave him in the courtyard?’ asks Dao as she fills a water bottle to take in the car. ‘I’m sure he would love an adventure. We haven’t been to the cabin for weeks and he loves long drives.’

  ‘He loves long drives? He falls asleep as soon as the car starts moving. But let’s take him.’

  We have debated strategies and decided that it would be pointless to park near Stuart’s house. We can follow him by using the tracker and if he stays at home we haven’t wasted a whole day sitting in the car. Both of us keep checking the app, even though we have set it to alert us. It is hard to settle down; we want him to make a move. I make sandwiches and pack them in a bag with some fruit, and water for Scruff, and put everything in the car.

  It is half-past eleven before the tracker alert starts beeping. Dao checks her phone and jumps to her feet. ‘He’s moving!’

  She watches the screen and gives me updates as I drive towards the Harbour Bridge. ‘He’s on Mt Eden Road, in the truck. He is halfway along. He’s turned east into Greenlane something. Now he’s on the motorway, heading south.’

  We sit at a steady hundred and ten on the motorway through the central city and out the southern side, passing exit after exit.

  ‘He’s turned off to Papakura,’ says Dao suddenly. ‘I bet he was going to the same place when he had Hope in the bin on the back of his truck. Remember? He was on the southern motorway, heading south.’

  When I turn off at the Papakura exit, Stuart is still a long way ahead on the Clevedon road. We trail behind him, slowly decreasing the distance between us, but careful not to get too close. We follow him towards Kawakawa and then onto McNicol Road. We are way east of Papakura now, in farmland with houses surrounded by paddocks, clumps of native bush here and there and a winding stream bordered by trees.

  ‘He’s just turned left into the Otau Mountain Road. We’re going to end up in the middle of nowhere.’

  We are about two kilometres behind him; there are few houses, then no houses. The road climbs into the hills and follows a winding course along a ridge.

  ‘How far ahead is he now? I don’t want him to see us.’

  ‘About a kilometre,’ says Dao. ‘The road is full of bends, but he might spot us anyway. Perhaps slow down a bit.’

  Steep hills covered in native bush on both sides. There has been no sign of houses or driveways for some time; he is heading into the wilderness.

  ‘This is the Hunua Ranges,’ I say. ‘There’s a Regional Park up here, very popular. I drove through this area once on the way back from Miranda.’

  Dao slants a sideways look at me. ‘Was she your girlfriend?’

  ‘No, it’s a place on the coast. Lovely spot. We’ll go there one day.’

  ‘Turn left at the next road. It doesn’t seem to have a name and it ends in the middle of nowhere – oh, I think it’s called Mine Road.’

  And then finally: ‘He stopped! Slow down!’

  Dao keeps her eyes on her phone as we close in on the now stationary truck. I pull off the road and park in a little space between trees, where the ground looks even. I nudge the car as far in as I can, and we get out, leaving Scruff in the car.

  ‘Look – we’re here and the truck is just there.’ Dao hold up her phone and points. ‘This road ends only a kilometer or so further up. Shall we walk along the road?’

  ‘Let’s walk to that bend just before where he stopped, and then we’ll continue along the edge of the bush. I want to see him before he sees us, if he’s hanging around the truck.’

  The truck is parked a few metres in from the road with some clear ground in front of it. We continue slowly forward, stop a couple of times, look around and listen. The truck is empty and locked. The tarpaulin is still on the tray. In front of the truck a fairly well-used track leads into the bush. We walk quietly along it, stopping frequently to listen, but we hear nothing but birds. Ten or fifteen minutes uphill the track splits into two, one narrower than the other.

  We take the wider one and walk for half an hour before we turn around and head down again. At the fork in the paths Dao checks her phone. ‘The truck is still there. Let’s try the other one. Have you thought of what we’ll say if we meet him?’

  I try to imagine what he would think if he met two people walking in a place that probably has few visitors. Would he be suspicious? Could that endanger Hope? Would it be better to wait in our car until he leaves and then walk up this track and see what we find?

  We discuss it and decide not to take the risk of bumping into him. I am reluctant to make him suspicious before we know what he is up to.

  ‘Let’s try to keep out of his way today. If he doesn’t see us now, he won’t get suspicious next time. It buys us time and opportunity.’

  ‘OK, but we have to hang around. We can’t afford to miss him. Let’s move further up the road and wait there.’

  We return to the car, drive past the truck and look for a good space to park off the road. Dao studies the map on her phone. ‘Just making sure he has to go back the way he came – yes, it’s the only way out.’

  We park well in among the trees a hundred metres further up the road. Scruff wakes up and wants to go for a walk, so we take him and our picnic supplies and walk into the bush straight i
n front of the car. Here the forest is quite open and there is little undergrowth to hinder progress, despite the lack of paths. We sit on a fallen ponga trunk in dappled sunlight, surrounded by birdsong and have just finished lunch, when Dao looks at her phone. ‘Oh, no! We have no signal here. We must have gone behind a bump or something.’

  ‘How many bars did we have before?’

  ‘Only two, but now we have nothing! Let’s go back to the car and check – I know we had a signal there.’

  He has left. There is a signal here and we can see that he is nearly back at Clevedon again. Following him back to town is pointless.

  ‘Let’s walk along to where those tracks start and take the other branch, see what we can find. He went in and came back in a bit over two hours, so we’ll do the same.’

  ‘OK and we’ll take Scruff. Can you take the water bottle?’

  It’s cool and slightly damp under the canopy of the trees. The smell of damp earth and decaying leaves is as familiar as the smell of baking. Native bush has that characteristic atmosphere; the cool dampness and the smell of decaying leaf litter and moist earth. We follow a gently undulating course, but always heading higher. Fifteen minutes into this second track it branches into two again. We take the right-hand branch and walk for another hour but find nothing.

  ‘Wrong again. We’ll have to go back.’

  ‘What if he ran?’ says Dao. ‘He could have gone a lot further.’

  ‘OK, let’s continue for twenty minutes and then head back.’

  We see nothing of interest. We return to the car and head back to the city, disappointed and mystified.

  Dao is annoyed. ‘I don’t get it. What did he do? Surely he didn’t just go for a walk.’

  To divert her attention, I change the subject. ‘What time are we due at Charlie and Kristen’s tonight? Did you say seven?’

  She checks her text messages and says, ‘Yes, seven. What should we bring?’

  ‘A couple of bottles of Craggy Range Sophia,’ I say. ‘Kristen loves a good red and the Sophia is spectacular. She is so kind to you, taking you shopping for clothes and things – we want to take something she will enjoy. I have half a dozen in the wine cupboard.’

  ‘What about me? Can we bring some of that lemon and lime stuff? Have we got some in the fridge?’

  And then, out of nowhere, comes one of those priceless Dao moments that I store away and smile about now and then. She says, ‘Why doesn’t everyone have two names?’

  ‘There’s no law about it. I don’t have two names. I’m just Hunter Grant – nothing in the middle.’

  ‘No, I mean only one name – a surname.’

  ‘I never heard of anyone who had only a surname. Where did you see this?’

  She stares at me as if I have lost my mind. ‘Benson, of course!’

  Chapter nineteen

  As soon as we arrive at Charlie and Kristen’s house, Dao is whisked away to look at something Kristen has bought. Charlie and I stay in the kitchen with a beer and I give her a brief summary of developments. It’s interesting how someone can ask you a question, and through the process of explaining you come to see things from a new angle.

  ‘Those tracks – someone made them, so there must be some purpose behind them,’ says Charlie. ‘If it’s a popular recreation spot that could explain it. Or maybe people hunt in those hills? I don’t really know anything about the Hunua ranges.’

  ‘We’ll try to find out tomorrow or Monday. I’ll check the Internet for a map. The part where he went is not where the recreational people go – it’s outside the Regional Park. We’ll continue on standby and when he leaves, we’ll follow him. He can’t have gone very far today in the time he was away from his car. We can eliminate one track after another.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose, but maybe he leaves the track at some point, cuts through the bush to some place where he has her hidden, or to another track. That would be quite clever – park in one area and cross to a track with a different starting point. And don’t forget that other woman, the one who vanished out of sight a couple of years ago. She must be somewhere too.’

  We look at each other and change the subject, but it is clear she has something on her mind. A few minutes later she abruptly reverts to the topic. ‘I haven’t told Kristen anything about this. I just can’t get involved. I would risk everything if I lie to her, mate. She’s the only person who ever loved me. I can’t risk it.’

  I’m speechless. She is not joking, she really means it. I had no idea she felt like that; she has never said anything like it in all the years we have known each other.

  She turns her back and peers into the oven.

  I get my thoughts in order and come around the counter to stand beside her. ‘I can’t believe you said that, Charlie. I mean, everyone loves you. The whole damn unit loved you – every last one.’

  She shrugs. ‘Yeah, I suppose. But that’s liking – not the same as love. You know the difference. My family can’t stand me because I’m gay. They’re staunch fundamentalist people, think they’ll go to hell if they so much as let me into the house. I haven’t been back to try to see them for years. My sister’s kids don’t know I exist – she told me when I called last year, just to test the waters. I’ve been deleted from the family, Hunter. I don’t exist. Thank God we have Kristen’s brothers and all their kids – and you and Dao, of course.’

  I put my hand on her shoulder. ‘I love you, Charlie. I’d do anything for you, just like I would for Dao and my sisters.’

  She sighs. ‘I know. I love you too. But I can’t risk my relationship with Kristen. I just can’t.’

  She steps away, turns back to the oven and fiddles with the knobs. I am about to say, ‘Let’s forget about it, we might never need the chopper anyway,’ when Kristen and Dao come back. They are both smiling, and Dao has a large carrier bag with a shop name printed on it. She puts it down and turns to me, her face alight with excitement.

  ‘Just wait till I show you what Kristen bought me for my birthday! Lovely clothes.’

  ‘Birthday? That’s not until August. Kristen, you haven’t spent a lot of money on Dao again, have you?’

  Kristen looks vague; not a look I associate with her. ‘Oh, is it August? I thought it was this month.’

  Charlie shakes her head. ‘It’s a girl conspiracy, mate. You might as well give up. She loves buying things for Dao. It’s like having a life-size doll to dress.’

  Kristen and Dao ignore us. Kristen pours wine for herself and lemon, lime and bitters for Dao and they sit down at the table with their backs turned and ignore us.

  Halfway through dinner Charlie clears her throat and says, ‘Kristen, I think you should know that Hunter and Dao have one hell of a problem. And don’t panic, I’m not going to get …’

  Kristen interrupts, cool as a cucumber. ‘You mean the search for Hope Barber?’

  I hold my breath and glance at Dao. She is putting a forkful of chicken into her mouth with a dreamy look on her face. Charlie just stares.

  Kristen lifts her wine glass and says in a conversational tone of voice, ‘I imagine they might need you and the chopper, if things don’t work out on the ground. I hope you’re not completely booked up the next few days.’

  I decide to keep my mouth shut. Charlie only manages to say ‘How …’ before Dao interrupts.

  ‘I told Kristen all about it, because you said you couldn’t have anything to do with it, but I thought she should know the story. You know, just in case she thought you should help. She has read Hope’s diary stories too, so she understands how serious it is, and that it can’t wait.’

  Her gaze moves to me. ‘We’ve made a deal, Hunter. I’ve promised Kristen that we won’t let Charlie shoot anyone. Or do anything illegal. So you’ll have to do it, Hunter – I mean, if we have to shoot someone.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ I say. ‘Did Dao tell you about our failure today, Kristen?’

  From this point there is only one top
ic of conversation. Charlie and Kristen are not familiar with the place Stuart went to, but as Kristen says, ‘If he wanted an innocent two-hour walk in the bush he would have gone to the Regional Park, not miles over to the side where nobody goes. Or maybe bird watchers do, and hunters.’

  She has only learned about this tonight, but she pulls facts and ideas together and comes up with conclusions and theories. I bet she is good at her job; she is a paralegal in a big law firm where a highly organised mind would be essential.

  ‘I do hope she is alive and kept up there in some hide-out, but there would be few places more suitable to hide a body relatively close to the city. I checked it on the Internet – it seems to be old established native bush – probably full of overgrown gullies and streams, fallen trees. And that part where the day trippers never go would be a safe place for him to do whatever he did without being disturbed. Dao said the tracks are good, so maybe even a moderately fit person could drag or carry someone up a track or conceal a body. If he drove up there at dusk and checked that nobody else was parked along that dead-end road – well, it would give him hours to do it and nobody around to see him.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I say, ‘but if he did that, why would he return today? Unless he left her body in a temporary place and went back to conceal it better?’

  I don’t want to voice the thought that maybe he is depraved enough to go back to gloat over her dead body – or worse. There is no need to plant that thought in Dao’s mind.

  Dao says, ‘Maybe he had her body in the house and loaded it on the truck this morning? There was that tarpaulin on the back, big enough to wrap a body in. No, he didn’t have enough time to disappear so fast, not if he was carrying a body. We can’t have been more than ten minutes behind him. And anyway, as Kristen said, why would he do it in daylight in a weekend, which is much riskier? I think he has her in a cabin somewhere up there.’

  Nobody debates the point; we know that for Dao it is important to continue to believe that Hope is still alive.

  Charlie and Kristen are very interested in Tama and, like us, they hope he will not end up in trouble. Kristen looks thoughtful when we tell her what we think it is safe to tell them.