It would also give her a chance to press him for the stuff that wasn’t being said in earshot of the Daylesford crew.
‘Coffee, huh?’ Dean Pickett cut in. ‘Good, make me one while you’re at it.’
Sam flushed, worried he’d seen her ogling the constable. There was no point wishing Ty hadn’t noticed, so she’d just pretend it hadn’t happened. She wasn’t interested in anything beyond looking anyway.
The detective’s mobile pealed as Sam and Ty headed to the kitchen. Sam glanced across. She saw Dean check the family room, then change direction and move towards the kitchen too. Although they’d scaled down for the night, there were still a dozen or so tired police members on phones and computers, faces buried in folders and reports. Many talked as they worked, sometimes to themselves, and Sam guessed Dean chose the kitchen because it’d be quieter.
She rinsed and dried mugs as Ty refilled the urn.
The detective halted on the opposite side of the room. His voice had been a drone, but Sam looked up sharply when he said, ‘Dammit, I don’t care if she doesn’t want to talk to us. We must speak with Mrs Belfrage and it’s urgent.’
Ty spilt some coffee granules and Sam brushed up the mess.
‘You must know where she’s staying if you’ve spoken with her.’
She traded glances with Ty. Dean sounded ready to explode.
‘You’ve only exchanged voicemails and texts?’ The detective made non-contact punches towards his phone with his free hand. ‘And you have no idea where she’s staying?’
The person on the other end must’ve gone into a wieldy explanation.
After ninety seconds, Dean said, ‘Her right to privacy! That hardly rates against –’
He broke off, listening with his eyes flashing. Sam looked away, giving Ty a discreet nudge, and they made the coffees while still eavesdropping, although not as blatantly.
Eventually, Dean spoke again. ‘Please get a message to your sister that I need to speak with her urgently. Day or night over here, it doesn’t matter, I’ll have my phone on. But impress upon her that delay may impact the lives of three children.’
Hannah
The scary men were yelling and laughing over the sound of music and a TV, both blaring at the same time. And one of them was playing drums again, sort of. Hannah thought he might be using an old dustbin or something instead of proper drums. The dog howled along.
She thought they were drunk, hoped they weren’t high. They’d talked about drugs at school and the boxing studio. She didn’t get why anyone would want to get hooked on something that was going to wreck everything and maybe kill them. And where did people get all the money from anyway? She really didn’t want them to be stoned – she’d heard scary stuff about how drugs can make people not feel pain and make them more aggressive.
That totally scared her. They’d done some sex-ed at school too, and when she’d started Year Seven, Mum had sat her down for ‘the talk’ about what people did when they loved each other and wanted to make babies. So embarrassing. But Mum said if you weren’t ready to have a baby, you weren’t ready to have sex. She didn’t bag Dad, but said even grown-up men were sometimes not ready to be dads, so you had to be sure you wanted that baby and could cope on your own if you had to.
Hannah’s teeth chattered. She had never been this sick before in her life…although at least she could think a bit better now, so maybe she was improving? She got to worrying that the pervs would hear her teeth clunking together and come and check her. If they were too high or drunk, maybe they’d rape her, even though they kept saying stuff like My dick’s not going near her while she’s like that.
She kept her eyes closed whenever they came in. But she’d worked out that Haydn’s friend, the one who put her in the van and made her drink something horrible, was the main talker: Deep Voice. He said things that made her stomach hurt.
Hannah was really glad she hadn’t found Riley and Coops before he’d turned up. She’d been expecting Haydn and spent a lot of time wondering why he’d sent his friend instead. He wouldn’t have brought her to this dump and let his friend talk like he did. He would’ve made sure she got home. And he would’ve been cool with her little bros.
She shrivelled up inside herself, thinking about what Deep Voice might’ve done to them.
DAY FOUR
SATURDAY 1 OCTOBER
Chapter 32
Sam had spent much of the night praying and thinking about her family, especially her nephews and nieces and how she wished she could protect them from the evil stuff she heard and saw in the job.
She’d watched Kat: unsettled, limping around with her face ghostly pale in the orange light coming from the fire. If the girl had slept at all, Sam would be amazed.
And Lunny. She’d thought about him too, how he was faring in Ando’s spare bedroom. She was concerned about him – there were times when he seemed close to breaking, then he rallied.
Sam lay listening to a concert of sighs and breathing from the camp beds – no one was sleeping well. She heard a growing rumble, wondered if it was more thunder, then critters on the tin roof hissed and squealed. Just possums. She closed her eyes, wishing for even thirty minutes of solid rest. But she immediately flashed back to Wednesday: Riley and Cooper laughing as they wrestled, Hannah watching.
Sam shifted to her side and tried to clear her mind. As soon as her lids fluttered down, she pictured three slight silhouettes, backlit by a stormy late-afternoon horizon. They laughed, then fog swallowed them. For a few moments, she still heard distant giggles. Then they too disappeared into the fog.
Chapter 33
The detective sergeant strode into the room wearing a different pants suit to yesterday’s; already slightly crumpled. Her eyes had a wired-by-too-much-coffee look.
‘Well, 5.00am is an unusually early start but you’re all here, so let’s go.’ Jules Manthorp nodded at Bernie and Vikki. She lifted a hand in collective greeting to her CIU team from Lilydale and the Daylesford crew.
Sam was suspicious – surely they would be kicked out before the real briefing commenced.
‘Did anyone get decent sleep last night?’
A handful of personnel, including a pair of police IT experts, continued with their specific tasks without answering. The rest shook heads or mumbled no. Sam spotted Kat choke back a yawn.
‘It’s bloody hard when the clock’s ticking on three lost kiddies, isn’t it.’ It was a statement, not a question. Jules added, ‘Learn to powernap, that’s my best advice.’ She gathered up some papers. ‘Give me a sec.’
Sam heard Kat’s jaw pop as she swallowed another yawn and noticed a sickly tinge to her skin this morning.
Franklin needs to take her home. If we can find her a helmet, she should ride back with him today.
Kat turned to a whiteboard behind them that held three large photos: one posed formal picture each of Hannah, Riley and Cooper. The two older kids wore school uniforms. Hanny’s If I have to expression was classic, while Riles snuck in a half-hidden thumbs-up. In his preschool portrait, Coops sat cross-legged and grinned from under his baseball cap, tufts of blonde hair framing his face.
Kat drew close to the fourth photo on the board—another one of Hannah taken at about Riley’s age—and tensed across her shoulders. Sam followed her gaze. This younger version of Hannah hugged a small tan and white dog that licked her face. They seemed unaware of the photographer and shared doting looks.
Sam recognised that there was no chance Kat would go home.
Jules joined them at the whiteboard and slapped a flat palm just under Hannah’s photo. Sam and Kat both jumped.
‘This is the fourth day these kids are missing. And what’ve we got?’ Jules glared at the assembled group.
Nobody answered.
‘Sweet FA.’
The detective’s words hung. Sam glanced at Hannah with her dog and swallowed hard.
‘But we have to get results today. This morning. If another day goes by without a breakthrough,
the odds of finding the kids safely start to resemble those of me winning the Miss Chinese Melbourne Pageant.’
It was funny coming from the solid, plain-Jane, Caucasian detective. But the meaning crushed Sam.
If we don’t find them today, they’re probably dead.
Jules flicked a glance at Franklin. ‘You’ll need to head off soon, John?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘You can’t have a role in the investigation,’ she pointed at Lunny and Sam, ‘but you can finish the search in the park. Ando was up before the birds and has it all set for an 8.00am kick-off, though we don’t have as many bods as yesterday. Georgie, stay on the computer. And Josh, take Kat to have that ankle looked at.’
Kat’s face coloured bright red. ‘But –’
‘You bluffed through yesterday, but you’d be a liability out there today.’ Jules shook her head. ‘Get yourselves ready!’ She did a karate chop with her right hand into her left, then held a finger in the air. ‘Hold on.’ She turned to the adjacent table and extracted something in a plastic evidence bag. ‘Anyone got a charger that’ll fit this?’
Sam craned to see the mobile phone found in the park. Basic and old, it wouldn’t be compatible with her charger.
Pickett took it. ‘Leave it with me.’
Manthorp regrouped in the small study with her two offsiders from Lilydale and Bernie Willy. Franklin found his phone and pretended to drift to a quieter spot to take a call, which just happened to be near the doorway.
‘…mum and stepdad, we need to reinterview them this morning.’ The detective briefed her team, speaking quickly. ‘Priority two is to track down and grill the biological father. Dean, what the hell’s taking Mount Isa so long? We need to recheck taxis and buses. Revisit neighbours, shops and the like. Also organise follow-up checks of brothels and extend it to the wider eastern area. Do the same with the sex offender list. The comp-crime whizzes are still working the IT angle, which might give us a break.’ Manthorp paused. ‘Where are you at, Bernie?’
‘I’ve got some locals to talk to this morning.’ The Olinda cop didn’t elaborate.
‘Right, keep me posted. Okay, Dean, I’ll leave it with you to allocate tasks – you have extra help coming at eight.’ Manthorp broke off, muttering, ‘The mum’s on the phone.’ In a softer voice, she said, ‘Hello, Ness.’
Franklin moved his mouth in fake conversation, shuffling closer.
Manthorp said, ‘No, I’m sorry. We don’t have any news.’
Franklin strained, but couldn’t make out Ness’s response.
‘You’d be the first to know, Ness.’ There was a short gap then, ‘How are you and Duane holding up? … And is Vikki there with you? Your family liaison? … Carol, right. So either Vikki or Carol is with you all the time? Good.’
The detective’s conversation murmured on for another minute, then she gently brought it to an end, after arranging a meeting for 10.00am.
‘She’s hanging on by that much.’
Franklin guessed Manthorp made a pinch gesture before she added, ‘Where were we?’
‘Done, I think.’ Pickett sounded impatient.
‘Yes. Wait, no! Have you finished backgrounds on the Agterops and Belfrages?’
‘Still to speak with Catherine Belfrage, Jules, but making progress. One interesting thing from Holland is that Elke and her hubby were both raised in an orphanage – that might explain their reserve, I suppose. Apart from that, their records are clean. Being rude isn’t a crime.’
‘And what about the boxer bloke…Josh Curtis?’
Franklin stiffened. So Josh was a suspect.
Pickett seemed to hesitate, but that was probably tension distorting Franklin’s sense of time, before saying, ‘His story seems to check out.’
‘Poor bastard.’
As the housekeeper waddled in, Sam assessed the way she knuckled into her lower back and said that she’d rustle up some help with breakfast. She wanted Kat to stay off her ankle, but Josh was outside searching the yard again and the others were busy with phone calls. Besides, Kat insisted on pitching in. So the two of them slaved with Elke, cooking a mountain of toast, eggs and bacon and brewing coffee.
There should’ve been plenty for everyone at the command post, currently made up of the Daylesford people, Lilydale detectives and a small number of other cops, but the food disappeared in minutes. Sam blew stray hairs off her face and slid yet another round of bread under the grill. Kat started a fresh pot of coffee. Her limp had doubled but she didn’t complain.
Elke suddenly held her belly and moaned.
‘Are you okay?’
The housekeeper glanced at Sam, pain showing in her eyes, then rushed away.
Sam looked at Kat. ‘What do you think that’s about?’
‘I hope the baby’s not coming.’ Her young friend looked worried.
Sam chuckled. ‘That’d really top things off, wouldn’t it?’
Georgie’s phone vibrated. She checked the caller’s name on the screen: Sheridan Judd.
‘Hi Sheridan.’
The Champagne Musings editor said, ‘Still haven’t found the children?’ immediately adding, ‘What’re the latest developments?’
‘No, and I can’t tell you – which I explained when you rang before. Conflict of interest and all that.’
Franklin stared at her.
Georgie mouthed Judd, then said into the phone, ‘You’ll need to check with Police Media if you want an official update, but look, we don’t go to print until next week – maybe I’ll have something for you by then.’
They wrapped up and Georgie said to Franklin, ‘Just because I’m here, doesn’t make it a magazine feature. This story’s more suited to the Herald Sun than Champagne Musings at this stage. It’d need to drag out longer or take a –’ He winced and she stopped, wishing she could suck back the words.
Who cared about story placement when it came to these kids?
Chapter 34
Hannah
The men sounded really close when High Voice said, ‘You took the other one didn’t ya?’
Hannah’s heart banged. She didn’t know what they were talking about.
The other one?
‘The fuck you say that for, Dicko?’
So, High Voice was called Dicko. Hannah filed it, just hoping she could get away and use the information against the pervs. It’d be a nickname but at least it was something.
Scuffles and grunts made her think they’d started fighting. The dog went berko, barking and growling, until one of them laughed.
‘Another beer, mate?’
‘Yeah.’
They moved away, but Hannah could still hear them clearly. She guessed they’d left the door open, probably to keep an eye on her.
She snuck a few peeks when she could tell it was safe, and each time got more depressed.
She was in an old, dirty bedroom. The window was boarded up on the outside and no cracks even showed. The only furniture was the bed, which didn’t even have a mattress, just a rug underneath and another one on top of her. The pillow was covered in gross stains. A mirror looked like someone had been popping their pimples all over it and the plastic bucket by the bed that was her toilet didn’t have a handle.
There was nothing that she could use as a kind of weapon or tool and the window was out as an escape route. Hannah sighed.
She felt sorry for herself for a bit, then her brain stuck on what Dicko said. Did he mean Deep Voice took another girl? Was she in the house too?
Just then, Deep Voice yelled, ‘Taking a slash,’ and Hannah risked another peek, this time at the next room. Dark and dirty too, although some light came between the planks over the window in there. The open fireplace was going, and she took in shabby chairs, flashy stereo gear, a giant TV and a couple of metal bins. There were also some drums, a guitar, an amp and other music gear piled up near the wall.
She shut her eyes when Deep Voice came back saying, ‘Gonna watch the footy later?’
‘Yeah.’
Hannah hoped that would keep them busy for a few hours.
Franklin called out, ‘Hello, a Queensland number.’
Sam made it to the kitchen doorway as he jiggled his phone, before answering, ‘John Franklin.’
She migrated to his elbow, dying to know if the Mount Isa cops had located Savage.
‘Right,’ Franklin said.
She shuffled, trying to see what he wrote on his pad. His awkward left-hander style blocked her view, so she switched to his other side, crowding in with Georgie. His pen halted, the nib still connected to the page. While he listened, Sam rubbed her eyes and peered closer.
Ric Spicer. Lives/works mate’s cattle station 4hrs from town plus at G/F’s p/t near the mines.
She interpreted his shorthand: their suspect was employed by and resided at a mate’s large-acreage farm out of town, while he spent the balance of his time with his girlfriend, near the mines on the outskirts of Mount Isa.
‘Uh-huh. Gotcha,’ Franklin said, while he jotted: Checked mate and G/F.
Sam frowned, assuming they’d had no luck.
‘So, he’s expected this morning? Good…yep…right. Later. Thanks, mate.’ Franklin disconnected and grinned. ‘Savage is due at work,’ he looked at his watch, ‘in about fifty minutes. The local cops will have a welcoming party for him.’
Jules Manthorp had entered while he was on the phone. She raised her hands overhead and applauded.
‘So, we’ll have some answers today.’ Franklin’s grin dropped. ‘But seeing as Savage hasn’t missed a beat at work over the past three days, he’s unlikely to be behind his kids’ disappearance.’
Sam’s shoulders drooped. If he was out of contention, they had nothing. She wandered back to the kitchen as Elke returned, full of apologies.
Into the Fog Page 17
