Franklin had also grilled Seb O’Brien and felt reasonably confident the bloke was clean, although he would run background checks on him, as well as on the house staff and property owner, Patrick Belfrage.
In view of Belfrage’s connection with District Inspector Knight, which had brought about the unanticipated, late change of camp venue, the last three seemed unlikely suspects in the kids’ disappearance. It was doubtful they’d had sufficient time to implement an abduction, let alone had a motive. But considering the strange behaviour of the caretaker in particular, they couldn’t be discounted without proper process.
Franklin would have to wait a little longer for the opportunity to question them, which frustrated him. The housekeeper was run off her feet catering for the increased number of guests and dealing with a telephone ringing hot, and her husband was apparently tied up with repairs to the glasshouse roof. The stormy weather hadn’t let up all day, so wrestling with a tarp and broken glass would be hell. And Belfrage still hadn’t returned, making him a very odd fish. First, he’d turned over his home to a bunch of strangers without staying. Then he’d remained away after hearing about the incident.
And where was his wife? In England, as alleged, or lurking somewhere closer to home?
Franklin groaned, pained by his growing list of questions and lack of progress. He needed more time to be sure he’d extracted everything from Lunny, Sam, Georgie and Kat, but so far they’d given him nothing useful.
That left Josh on the main list. And the boxer hadn’t been inside the house since Ness and Duane arrived.
Until now.
Franklin heard him speaking with Elke. He looked through to the kitchen, assessing the young bloke with narrowed eyes. Drenched, he stood at the island bar wolfing down a sandwich. His eyes constantly shifted to the window and his feet shuffled on the spot.
Before Josh nicked off again, Franklin moved in, just as Duane Smith entered from the opposite room.
Josh reared away from Duane. He dropped the remaining quarter of his sandwich on his plate, swivelled around and banged into Franklin’s shoulder as he fled.
Josh brushed past Georgie as she slipped into the house, intending to grab a snack for the kids.
‘Hey, Josh. Where –?’
He’d already gone.
She was still frowning when her phone vibrated and launched into the swelling guitar and drums of Foo Fighter’s Walk. She dug into her pocket, mortified she hadn’t flipped it to silent.
Everyone twisted towards her. Vanessa was last to turn. She frowned, although her reaction seemed mechanical. Her eyes grew wide before she seized her own mobile. She stared, drew it close and tilted the screen, seemingly confused.
At last, Georgie grasped her phone and jogged through the kitchen, past Franklin, to the front foyer as she answered the call.
Her best girlfriend, Bron, jumped straight in. ‘Your missing kids have hit the news, GG.’
‘How’s that?’
‘The local Leader’s broken the story online with: “Three Daylesford children lost in the Dandenong Ranges.”’
‘But how? Franklin said the local Crime Unit would meet with us before giving a media release.’
‘Maybe someone leaked it?’
‘None of us would –’
‘But the others?’
‘Who – the housekeeper or her husband? I can’t see it – they’re too reserved. The camp instructor…well, anything’s possible for money or fifteen minutes of fame. The Olinda cop?’ Georgie swore and slapped her forehead. ‘Half the “breaking news” comes from Twitter or Facebook these days. Any one of the people we’ve spoken to might’ve posted something that the Leader picked up and ran.’
‘Sorry I’m not ringing with better news.’
‘Me too.’ Georgie’s sigh echoed over the phone.
After a few beats, Bron asked, ‘What’s it like up there?’
‘Still raining, foggy and bloody freezing. A tree came down and took out the power, but the caretaker fired up the generator. The roads are a mess.’
‘So you haven’t managed much of a search?’
‘We’ve done what we can but we need proper help.’
‘Well, you’ll get that now, won’t you? More resources. And media coverage.’
‘Yeah. The media. Great. Be just my luck if they connect this with the Goyne or Pentecoste cases.’
The stories coming out of Georgie’s involvement in those earlier cases had been a blessing and a curse. She’d finally been noticed as a writer, landed a permanent gig with Champagne Musings and her articles appeared semi-regularly in dailies and journals that would’ve turned their noses up at her a few years ago.
But she’d also been written about. She’d been through some seriously bad shit in the past eighteen months – it made for good copy but was difficult to deal with personally, especially when splashed over the papers.
It only takes one journo to connect me to this, and then when the investigation slows and they’ve got nothing new to report, they’ll make it about me…
Kat wandered into the family room, clearly tired and worried but with a little pink in her cheeks. A fraction of the tension in Sam’s shoulders released. She’d been concerned, having seen Kat grow paler as the hours went by – verging on grey-green when she’d encountered Vanessa for the first time today. Sam had mentally given her young friend two hours to rally or she’d suggest that Franklin take her home.
It looked as if Kat had won a reprieve. Particularly as she now approached the couch. Vanessa sat in the middle, with Duane on her right and Bernie’s wife Vikki on the other side.
Kat radiated a purposeful aura and Sam was intrigued to see her squat down before the mother. ‘Mrs Savage –’
Vanessa shook her head. ‘You’ve always called me Ness.’
Kat nodded. ‘Okay.’ After a small pause, she said, ‘Ness.’
The mother’s lips trembled in what might’ve been an attempted smile, then Kat continued. ‘I know you and Dad phoned around your family and the kids’ main friends before. But I was thinking…it might be an idea if I did follow-up calls to them and their classmates. Like, because I’m closer in age to them, they might open up more to me? No offence, but they might be worried they’ll get in trouble for whatever they say – or drop Hanny or her brothers in it.’
Ness snapped alert. ‘Hanny’s not in trouble. I just want my three babies home. Safe.’
Sam stayed in the background, impressed by Kat’s suggestion.
‘I know and I’ll pass that on to her mates. I’ll also say that whatever they tell me won’t get Hannah or the boys in trouble with the police. Right?’
Lunny hedged. ‘Well, that really depends.’
Kat gave him a dark look. ‘Not helpful.’
‘Just be careful. We’ll work out a way you can insinuate it rather than promise it.’
‘But you like my idea?’ Kat’s gaze centred on Ness.
‘Anything that might help is a good idea. Thank you.’ Ness’s voice cracked and Kat looked away, giving Sam a glimpse of her teared-up eyes.
The teen scrambled to her feet and paced while she spoke again. ‘I could start up a Facebook page too. Like Where’s Hannah, Riley and Cooper? or something.’
Bernie said, ‘We should run that past the detectives beforehand.’
‘No,’ Sam cut in. ‘Sorry to put this so bluntly, Ness and Duane. But we have already lost a day and need to ramp this up now.’
She waited for a reaction.
‘In principle, it’s a good idea.’ Lunny pursed his lips. ‘Just give me a look before you go live and don’t be surprised if you have to hand it over to the detectives.’
‘But aren’t the kids too young for Facebook?’ Duane scratched at his short, boxed beard.
‘Technically, yes,’ Kat answered. ‘They’re meant to be at least thirteen, but it’s a joke really. A girl from school’s little sister is only eight and she has three Facebook pages with different names and photos.�
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Ness gasped and her partner stiffened, his nails still tangled in the black bristles on his chin.
‘I’m just saying, even if your kids aren’t social networking, some of their mates will be.’
Sam broke in again. ‘And it’s not just their friends we’ll be targeting. It’s the wider community, right across Victoria, Australia, overseas. We’ve had some radio coverage and the press will be helpful in raising awareness. But more people tune into social media than formal news these days. Hopefully the more people we have acting as our eyes and ears the sooner we’ll bring your kids home. Do you understand?’
Ness nodded vigorously.
‘You’re happy for us to go ahead then?’ Sam checked.
After yeses from both Ness and Duane, Kat said ‘Good’ and moved to the door.
Sam caught Lunny’s eye and asked, ‘And the other parents?’ Mindful of Ness and Duane listening, she didn’t want to spell it out.
Lunny must’ve understood. He drew next to her and spoke softly. ‘Yes. I’ll get back to the local Ds first, then call the others again and suggest they come and collect the kids.’
‘They won’t want to.’
Sam shot a look at Duane, stunned that he’d heard Lunny’s comment. The man hadn’t spoken much since the couple arrived, but every one of those words held a poise that surprised her. She knew everybody reacted differently to stressful situations but his self-control had started to bother her. Shouldn’t he be getting somewhat rattled as time stretched? And what did he mean by They won’t want to?
She said, ‘Sorry?’
‘They’ll want to come up here and help. Every parent would…but especially those whose kids’re on the same camp and could easily have been the ones to go missing. They’ll be so relieved, they’ll feel guilty and make up for that any way they can.’
Franklin came in just as Ness leapt up, crying out, ‘Everyone’s doing something. But I’m not doing anything. I need to find my kids. I need to do something!’
Bernie’s wife came to Ness’s side. She gently touched the woman’s closest hand and when Ness allowed the gesture, Vikki wrapped it in both of hers.
‘Why don’t we make a batch of posters, Ness?’ She pointed at Sam’s laptop on the coffee table. ‘You’ll let us use your computer, won’t you, Sam?’
‘Of course.’
‘We can make the posters while we wait here. The kids will probably be back by then.’ Vikki made it sound like they’d just popped down to the shops.
Ness’s eager voice saying, ‘Duane, where’s the photo album? We need some nice pictures of the kids,’ gave Franklin goosebumps.
Chapter 17
Lightning slashed through the steely sky with a rifle crack of thunder. It sent quivers through the damaged nerves in Georgie’s left hand as an eerie graphite added to the skyline.
At just after 4.00pm, sunset shouldn’t be for another couple of hours, but a premature darkness had descended in the few minutes since she’d traded babysitting duties for standing outside. She rubbed her hand, craving a smoke. She had a secret pack of Benson & Hedges for emergencies. This rated, but she didn’t want to fall off the wagon in front of Franklin and Kat.
A car snaked up the driveway, diverting her thoughts. Her nose curled at the big boxy thing, two-toned poo-brown and silver with a thick chrome grill. Mr Belfrage had returned.
The Roller parked near the cluster outside the garage: Vikki’s runabout, Bernie’s police truck, Ness’s Subaru, Seb’s battered Jeep and the minivan hired in Daylesford for the camp.
A minute later, two more vehicles trundled in.
The first of the latest arrivals was a crew cab ute that didn’t stop near the garage and continued along the driveway. So, Willem Agterop was back again, although Georgie hadn’t realised he’d gone out. Around lunchtime, Franklin had caught up with him long enough to politely request a look around the caretaker’s residence; Agterop had less politely told him no. According to his wife, he’d been making emergency repairs to the glasshouse roof since.
It seemed that wasn’t the case, at least not entirely.
The second vehicle was a Commodore sedan, unmarked, but Georgie picked it for a cop car even before she saw the shadow of strobe lights behind the tinted rear window.
She forgot the need for a smoke.
Sam had observed the inflow of vehicles on the intercom monitor with a strange mix of feelings. If it weren’t for the fact that three young kids were in grave danger this would be pretty thrilling for a first-year newbie.
She reached the entrance as Georgie stepped through with Upalong’s owner, Patrick Belfrage. His expression was priceless: angry and arrogant.
The man looked straight through her as she took his coat. He spotted Lunny and Bernie approaching in tandem.
‘Sergeant Lunny. My study for an update, please.’
The man tilted his nose towards the back of the house, referring to the small office adjoining the family room that Franklin had unofficially commandeered.
Who does he think he is?
The sarge took it in his stride and thrust out his hand, forcing the owner to shake hands. After checking that Bernie and Belfrage were acquainted, he said, ‘Glad you’ve returned. I’ll be more than happy to give you that update, just as soon as I’ve briefed my colleagues.’
Belfrage’s mouth slit, but he didn’t have a chance to speak before the doorbell sounded and Sam admitted a sturdy woman in a pants suit, a ferrety looking man also in plain clothes and a guy in uniform that she could only describe as beautiful. Not feminine, but drop-dead gorgeous.
The foyer felt crowded. Egos, power and pressure clashed like floral perfume and spicy aftershave in a lift, and Sam took a step back, surprised when Belfrage did the same.
‘Julianne Manthorp, Detective Sergeant, call me Jules,’ the woman introduced herself. She shook hands all round, then indicated the ferret. ‘My detective senior connie, Dean Pickett – he doesn’t do nicknames.’ She pointed to the gorgeous Asian man. ‘And Constable Ty Long – he answers to just about anything, including Shorty.’
Sam understood the pun. If Australians could call redheads Blue, they could nickname a tall man with the surname Long, Shorty.
‘We’re all from Yarra Ranges CIU,’ Jules added. She nodded to Lunny. ‘Good to put a face to your voice, Tim.’
Nods, smiles, more handshakes, with Sam enjoying the feel of Ty’s touch for a second too long, and the lead detective took charge again.
‘Right, Tim.’ Jules nodded to Lunny. ‘Where can we set up? No time to waste.’
Georgie went to the family room and looked around. ‘Katz?’
Josh hung over the mezzanine’s balustrade. He made a gesture with thumb and pinkie to indicate that Kat was on the phone, then pointed over his shoulder.
Georgie bolted up the staircase. She heard Kat say, ‘Do you know if she uses Insta, Facebook, Twitter or anything like that?’
Josh met her at the top. She eyed him, wondering if he was still in the strange mood that Seb and Franklin had struck earlier.
‘Right. And boyfriends?’
Georgie carried on listening. Kat managed to be matey enough to build trust, yet she was thorough and stuck well to her script. She couldn’t have done a better job herself.
‘Uh-huh. Can you share our Where’s Hannah, Riley and Cooper? page and ask your friends to do the same? Cool. Oh…and could I friend you on Facebook, like, just to keep in the loop with anything that might pop up?’
It apparently worked, because Kat typed, scrolled, clicked and said, ‘Done.’
When she finished the call, Josh sat next to her and took the laptop.
Georgie asked, ‘How’s it going?’
Kat rolled her eyes, then dropped her head onto her knees. ‘It seemed like a good idea.’ Her voice muffled against her jeaned legs.
‘Keep going.’ Josh nudged her. ‘One little thing that someone tells us could be what helps us find them.’
‘Yeah, I know
.’ She sat up and sighed. ‘Anything happening online?’
Josh took a moment to answer. Georgie looked over his shoulder, spotting the Facebook page Kat had set up with input from the others as he said, ‘Some tool’s just posted, “When did they start being missing?” I put all that in the first post and pinned it to the top and it’s in the “about” section.’
Kat said, ‘At least people are talking about them and are on the lookout.’
Josh huffed. ‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘You should crosscheck the names on my list with those who pop up on our page,’ she told him. ‘See what the kids’ friends say online – it might be more helpful than what they’re telling me. And look out for posts from people who might be friends or family we don’t know about. Especially anyone that seems to be based in this area, even though Ness and Duane reckon they don’t know anyone out this way.’
‘All good ideas.’ Josh pointed to his temple. ‘Just don’t blow my mind, hey?’
She nodded mutely.
Georgie broke in. ‘So, nothing useful so far?’
Josh shook his head. ‘All these people act like they know the kids, so it’s hard to work out who are genuine friends, not weirdo-wannabes.’
They all stared at the screen as he scrolled.
‘“Come home!” and a love heart.’ Josh hovered over the poster’s name. ‘And he’s a middle-aged advertising manager who lives in the Bronx, USA, apparently.’
‘Whether he is or isn’t –’ Kat trailed off, pulling a face. ‘People can pretend to be anything or anyone they want online. Scary, isn’t it?’
‘New post.’ Josh spoke loudly. ‘Loser. “Someone saw them playing ball at the school in Daylesford.” Do you believe that?’
‘Bloody hell,’ was all Georgie managed. They were going to have to sift through mountains of useless information and hope they spotted the real leads – if there were any.
Into the Fog Page 9
