Girl in an Empty Cage

by Graham Wilson

  Chapter 20 – Phone Links

  Alan had only seen the second half of Susan’s performance but was equally appalled. He had just two weeks now to crack this one. He had two leads remaining. One was the phone, one was that admission, made in the pre-trial meeting, that she had not destroyed everything. She had not said it quite like that but he was certain that was what she meant. And it was obviously important from the way she sought to smooth over those unintended words, as if they had no meaning.

  So he must trace her phone, the calls and the particularly that text she sent from Borroloola. Could she have found something out by text which prompted her change in behaviour? But what, a text was only a short string of characters, a few sentences at most. It could give a date, an ETA, a place or name. But to try and find information from other parts of the world one needed the internet. She could have used the internet at Borroloola, the corner store had it. But instead she had just sent a text; perhaps it was a happy birthday message to family or friends.

  What about the other lead, the something not destroyed angle. That meant something kept which meant something hidden, but where. If she had hidden something back in England she would have no concern that he would find it. But he had seen her tell tales of alarm when she realised she had made a mistake. So, if it was a mistake of real concern, it must be in Australia. So the where must be here in the NT, it was the only place she had been before she caught the plane, and her time after she was at the billabong until the plane left was pretty tight, there were some free hours, but hours was all, particularly as based on the report from the witness about someone driving around there in the early evening. That made it likely that she had not departed until after dark. Therefore, as best he could judge, she had just driven from the site to where she parked and abandoned the car, and she had done so at night when her view of the surrounding countryside was very limited. So it must be either at the site, somewhere on the way, or at this end there was be a hiding place holding something important. Rechecking the murder site again, even more carefully, had to be the place to start. Last time the search concentrated on any physical evidence associated with murder, but it had not focused on nearby hidey holes where something could be stashed.

  It was possible that, when she had driven there with Mark, she had seen another location on the way that would serve as a hiding place. She was clever enough to have seen a place and returned on the run; perhaps while she was driving there she had seen a landmark and come back on her return trip. But seeking that was futile, too many options. He must begin with the site.

  He knew that, now the trial was over and the guilty plea was entered, his official work was done. It was not for him to make a case for leniency. Tomorrow his bosses would be expecting him back at work to dump a new case on him; he would be buried by next week. So how to find the time this investigation required.

  He decided that he would have to make time. He guessed that the media would throw plenty of mud back on to the police after this verdict in tomorrow’s papers. Using that for cover he would claim a new lead based on her testimony; she had indicated that she had hidden some critical evidence at the site and they needed to do a new search.

  Tomorrow he would scout the area and formulate a search plan. The day after he would get a new party of searchers, he reckoned about eight blokes would do it and they did not have to be highly skilled. In fact it was good if most did not know the place, it may work out best with fresh eyes. They would go over the site again with a fine toothed comb and look for any hidey holes, probably something big enough to hide a box or bag of documents. There was certainly a missing will, and while she may have burnt most of Mark’s papers her reaction said that she had kept back something. It was needle in the haystack stuff but he would have to try.

  So, early in the morning, he drove out to the Mary River and first walked along the billabong. The edge gave a good reference point and there were some tree hollows and a couple piles of rocks and crevices along it which made possibilities. He walked the campsite looking again for disturbed earth areas though it was much harder after the wet season’s rain. He swept the edges going out twenty or thirty metres; there were a few other possibilities, places to be worked over but nothing really suspicious or promising.

  He looked around the surrounding area, going out to a few hundred metres for any landscape features. There was one small hill, perhaps 500 metres away, that was distinctly visible; that was well worth looking at. He walked across to it. It was bigger than he first thought. Lots of rocks and boulders lay on its sides but no obvious cracks or crevices. He walked to the back and stood on a low flat rock on the edge, and surveyed the ground in both directions. This hill was the sort of feature that someone might pick, but there was no obvious hiding place.

  Should he send a couple people to probe and dig around it tomorrow, look for any loose rocks or soft soil. If he had ten blokes and a D9 dozer for a week he would pull the hill apart and perhaps they would find something. But, on balance, it was less likely than a closer place. He needed to concentrate his limited resources for the one day he had on more likely places.

  He was back in the office by about lunch time and told his boss of his plans. He could see him look sceptical but he let it pass, the papers had given the police the expected bullocking. As he started to walk out his boss told him he was on a special operation all next week in Eastern Arnhem Land. It ran from Monday to Sunday, with long hours, so his boss suggested that maybe he should find time for a break before then.

  Next day they got to the site early and worked everywhere but the hill over thoroughly and found nothing. He walked back over to the hill for one last look and tried to lift up some of the more promising rocks, in case there was something underneath. But all the ones he tried were well embedded in the dirt and did not lift easily. There were hundreds more like them and he did not have time to try them all.

  Now he wished he had done the hill as well properly but it was too late. By three the crew were all pretty shagged and it was a Friday. So he ordered knockoff and told them he would shout them all a beer at the Bark Hutt Inn, for them to head off and buy a round and tell the publican he would pay when he came in five minutes after them.

  The work crew headed off leaving Alan alone by the water. He knew he had tried and failed with this roll of the dice. He walked right to the edge, to the place where they had found the man’s footprint beside a little bush. He squatted there alongside that place where the earth had been carefully dug out to make a plaster cast and now only a small hole remained.

  The water was incredibly still and all seemed so placid. It was hard to believe that, only months ago, a man had been torn apart by crocodiles, just metres from here. He knew he should move back from the edge as the danger was no less acute now than then. But he wanted to imagine himself in this man’s shoes on that fateful day, knowing more about him now that he did when he had first come to this place.

  He stood then squatted down right alongside where the man’s footprint had been found. He had a sense of now being in the shoes of this man, Mark, squatting and contemplating his future, knowing he had a choice to make, what was it that the Top Springs bartender had said – to choose between himself and the girl.

  Maybe she, Susan, believed she was the intended victim of the crocodiles because she knew something awful about Mark, while he, unknown to her, had decided that that the victim had to be him.

  So perhaps he was here, squatting and contemplating the end of his life before he joined the crocodiles. If Susan did not know, but fearing for her life, struck an unexpected blow to his head, then that could be how his injury happened. If she then discovered a message from him telling her otherwise, then that would constitute the mistake she talked about.

  It was at least a theory which fitted a couple pieces together. He was not convinced but it might help make sense of these events.

  Alan’s heel slid sideways into the hole as he went to stand up and he found himself o
verbalancing into the small bush. His hand went sideways to steady himself, landing on the ground covered by the bush. It lodged on a hard misshaped object among the leaves lying there. His fingers closed around it as he steadied himself. He retrieved his hand still holding the object.

  It was a palm sized piece of wood, carved into a crocodile shape, with faded charcoal and ochre markings. He realised this must be the crocodile totem carving that the bartender had described. It seemed a confirmation of his theory, not proof but one more step along the path to knowing and understanding.

  He looked closely at this carved object. At first glance it seemed small and insignificant but as you looked more closely you saw that it was a representation of an old and massive crocodile, a being of real power. He felt a sense of its spirit reaching out, connecting to the other crocodiles of this place. He looked out across the water. Far away he saw the head and eyes of a real crocodile contemplating him, unmoving. It was not the big one, but still seemed to be sending a message to his mind; this totem is for you to take to help you discover its owner.

  He placed it in his pocket. He should submit if as evidence but it seemed too significant for an exhibit bag. Perhaps it would help him gain understanding going forward from here, a connection between his mind and that of Mark, a link like that between Sandy and Susan. He would log it but hold it for now, it would hold no forensic clues after months lying in the weather and perhaps it would help to align his mind to the real Mark who to date he had only glimpsed as a shadowed outline, and somehow bring him towards a point of truth.

  As he drove back to Darwin he realised he was now down to his last option; tracking Susan’s phone. He had the rest of today, tomorrow and Sunday before he was sent off, so he would see what he could do. He decided to start with the obvious thing of asking Susan’s family and friends if she had a mobile as he needed to trace the calls she might have made in Australia. Her father promptly told him, “Yes she did,” and read out the number.

  Alan called David a minute later and he confirmed the same number. It was an English number but it had international roaming so it was possible that she had used it. It took an hour or two of chasing but finally he got through to the British company that supplied the service. After getting authority from Scotland Yard, giving identification and sending verification of his credentials he got access to the call records.

  There were plenty of calls before and after but nothing during the period of the Australian trip. There was also a gap for a bit over a week after Susan got back to England so he asked the operator about this. “Oh, that is because she got a new handset. She told us the previous one had been lost in Australia.”

  This was really interesting; it seemed like more than coincidence. He rang her father back and asked if he knew anything about a new handset after Australia.

  Susan’s father replied, “That sounds right, when she got back she said her luggage had got lost on the bus and her phone was with it. So she bought another phone but got the old number reissued. That way all her friends still had her number.

  Then Alan asked, “Do you know anything about her having a different phone or SIM card while she was in Australia, a local one?”

  Her father thought and said. “Not that I can think of. In fact while she was away she barely rang. The only time I can recall a phone call was from her cousins in Sydney, where she stayed for a few days. But that day they rang on their land line because they all had a bit of a chat to our family, if I remember right. Of course you could ring them and check if they had a local number for Susan or I will if you like.”

  Alan said, “Could you do that please and when you find out leave a message. I am just on my way home now but I will pick it up and check it out in the morning. And please don’t tell Susan about this or ask her.”

  On the Saturday Susan’s father rang back. “They think she had an Australian number that she got in Cairns but none of them have been able to find it. I have asked them to find their own phone bills and go through them from the time Susan was there and see if they can find anything. It does not sound like I will be able to get it for you inside a day or two as they were all heading off for a weekend of camping when I called and are all gone now.”

  Alan could feel his frustration rise but he knew her father was trying to be helpful and did not really understand what was at stake. So he put his angst aside.

  The weekend passed in a blur, he thought he would have time to follow up further on Susan’s Australian phone but in the end did not.

  Then the weekend was gone and he was off away. The operation was in a remote part of the Top End, out watching a part of deserted coastline a couple hours’ drive from the town of Gove, where a tip off of a drug landing was received. They were flown in for the week, not back out until the following Sunday. It was a continuation of the drug surveillance operation he was involved in from before. Alan could feel time slipping through his fingers but there was nothing he could do.

  On Thursday he had a flash of inspiration, he was almost sure where to find the phone number. He remembered the Mark Butler phone bill, the one that had linked him to Vic. There were a handful of calls on that he had never followed up once he got on to Vic. He seemed to remember there were three of four calls in the few days before Susan had come to Alice Springs. He had wondered at the time about the cluster of calls, but had not paid it much mind, not thinking at that stage that this phone had even belonged to their victim. But it had, perhaps it was not his only one, but Alan had a really strong feeling that those calls would have been to and from Susan, making arrangements for the trip.

  He could feel his impatience to get back to Darwin to follow it up. He also realised that nobody had looked in the Katherine mailbox where this phone bill was found since before Christmas, three months ago. He knew because he still had the key on his desk.

  Well that was another job for Monday, to get someone to Katherine to go through any mail, perhaps some contacts of Mark’s would emerge. He thought of getting a constable to go now. In the end he decided there was too much at stake and he would go himself.

  He used the radio at their base to get clearance from his boss to go to Katherine for the first two days of next week. There was a delay while the request was relayed then it was duly given. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was not much, but two days should be enough to get to the bottom of this phone story. And who knew what else he might also find in this town where Mark seemed to spend time.