Web of Deceit (22 page)

He took out his mobile and scrolled through until
he found the name Pepper Green. It rang twice then she answered. ‘Yello.’ Music played in the background.

‘It’s Mia’s dad,’ he said. ‘Is Mia with you? Or do you know where she is?’

‘No, sorry.’

‘This is very important,’ he said. ‘Has she been talking about running away?’

‘Look, Mr Churchill –’

He thought he knew what was coming. ‘I don’t care about you wanting to
keep her secrets, I don’t care if you’re worried about what she’ll say to you at school. Kids die when people keep their mouths shut.’

‘What I was going to say,’ she said, ‘is that Mia and I aren’t that close any more. Like, we’re still in the same group, but we don’t talk much, you know? I don’t know if she’s got a boyfriend, or is friends with a girl from another school or what, but she’s
always on her phone, texting and talking to someone, and a couple of times I asked her who it was and she said it was none of my business.’

Alex’s stomach dropped. ‘How long has that been going on?’

‘Three or four weeks.’

He thought back, but it was hard to say whether her behaviour had changed around that time. She’d been irritable and moody for months.

‘And she gave you
no clue?’ he said. ‘You never saw anything over her shoulder that gave you an idea of who it might be?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘She was really careful.’

‘Do you know her computer passwords?’

‘They all used to be
rpattz86
, but I tried that a while back and they didn’t work.’ She sounded embarrassed. ‘I know that was wrong but I was curious. And a bit hurt that she’d found another friend.
I wanted to see who it was.’

‘Please call me if you hear from her, or if you hear that she’s been in contact with anyone else.’

‘I will,’ she said.

The three other girls he thought were Mia’s closest friends told him similar stories, Eleni adding, ‘I asked her if she had a boyfriend, and she said no and got all angry, but once I saw on her phone that she was texting “I love you”.’

Alex had to breathe deep. It could be another fourteen year old, a boy too shy to hold hands even. It wasn’t necessarily some older guy passing himself off as young; someone she’d met online who had designs from the start.

None of the friends had heard her talk about running away, or had seen or heard from her this morning.

He hung up. ‘She’s been hiding something.’

Jane
looked like she didn’t know what to say.

He pulled the keyboard close and started to type, but couldn’t help thinking about the parents of the dead Mia, and how they’d said they didn’t even know she had a boyfriend until they learned he was driving the car she’d died in.

TWENTY-ONE

E
lla sat in the meeting room, arms and legs crossed, watching from narrowed eyes as Murray, Kemsley, Gawande and Hossain ate donuts. They’d offered the box to the forensic accountant, Annie Blackwood, but she’d shaken her head.

‘Say thanks to your boyfriend for us,’ Gawande said to Ella.

‘He’s not my boyfriend.’

‘S’funny too,’ Hossain said,
‘sending a cop donuts.’

‘No, it’s not,’ Ella said. ‘It’s ridiculous. It’s pathetic. It’s insulting, and it’s an American stereotype anyway, therefore irrelevant, therefore even more ridiculous.’

Their mouths were too full for them to answer. Annie Blackwood looked down at her notes, trying to hide a smile. Ella frowned.

Langley walked in and shut the door. He didn’t bother sitting
down. ‘Okay. Nothing new overnight from the tip lines, so here’re the tasks for the day.’

‘I have something new,’ Ella said. ‘I got a call last night from Michael Paterson, the officer on the homicide in which Meixner was a witness. He said Meixner had complained about being harassed in the lead-up to the trial. Canning had alibis, but Paterson suspected that the people who supported those
alibis had been threatened.’

‘Suspected?’ Langley said.

She explained what Paterson had said about the council ranger. ‘He said he felt the same way about the other witnesses but couldn’t prove it.’

‘Is any of this in the file?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

She could feel Murray looking at her. ‘Because Paterson’s partner thought Meixner was having some sort of breakdown
and imagining it all.’

‘Isn’t that interesting,’ Langley said. ‘It’s the same story all these years later.’

‘I think it justifies taking a much closer look at his alibis for the time Meixner died, at least.’

‘You don’t trust the parole officer?’

‘I’m saying it’s worth looking into.’

Langley leaned forward on his hands. The end of his deep blue tie brushed the table.
‘Yesterday you were obsessed with Simon Fletcher. Today you’re sure it’s all about Paul Canning. How about you stop trying to think and instead just follow the plan I set out?’

The other detectives were silent. Annie Blackwood stared at the floor. Ella felt herself turning bright red with humiliation and anger.

‘Okay?’ he said.

She could barely breathe.

He snapped his fingers.
‘Okay, Detective?’

She managed to nod, the briefest nod of all time.

‘Good.’ He stood straight. ‘Right. As I was saying, here are the tasks for today.’

*

Alex entered his username and password into the Optus homepage. Mia’s phone was on his account, and when he brought up her usage page he could see that over the last month she’d repeatedly rung and texted a mobile number
that he didn’t recognise. He picked up his own phone with shaking hands and dialled. It rang five times then a robotic female voice kicked in: ‘
The person you are calling is not available. Please try again later.
’

‘It’s probably a boy,’ Jane said, her hand resting on her stomach. ‘You know what that first love is like. You want to be in touch all the time. They’re probably sitting in a McDonald’s
somewhere, holding hands and feeling magnificent.’

Alex dialled again and heard the same message, then he hung up and called Mia’s number. It went straight to voicemail, just as it had when he’d rung on the way from the station and the five times since. ‘
Hey, it’s me. You know what to do.
’

‘I love you, sweetheart, and I just want to know you’re okay. Please, please, call me back.’
He hung up.

‘The police will be able to trace it, no worries,’ Jane said. ‘They can do anything these days. We’ll track her down before you know it.’

Alex didn’t answer. He scrolled through to another number, and called Frances and Donald. They’d been his and Helen’s neighbours back before Mia was born, and quickly became her surrogate grandparents afterwards. With his own parents
dead fifteen years, and Helen’s busy doing missionary work in the highlands of Pakistan – or somewhere; it’d been years since he’d had any contact with them, they could be dead for all he knew – he’d been grateful for their interest and their willingness to look after Mia on the afternoons he was on dayshift.

Helen, he thought, just as Frances picked up. ‘It’s me,’ he said. ‘Is Mia there?’

‘No. Is she supposed to be?’

‘She’s run away,’ he said. ‘She left sometime during the night.’

‘Oh my goodness. What can we do? Have you called the police?’

‘I’m waiting for them now,’ he said.

‘Keep in touch, won’t you? Let us know how we can help,’ she said.

‘I will.’

He ended the call and sat for a moment with his eyes closed. He could smell Mia in the
room: the honeysuckle Body Shop perfume she liked, her shampoo and hairspray, deodorant and nail polish.

‘What if Helen’s come back?’ he said.

‘After so many years of indifference?’ Jane said.

He opened his eyes. ‘What if she decided she wants custody but knew she’d never get it after being away so long, so persuaded Mia to run away to her?’

‘But then what?’ Jane said.
‘She can’t get her out of the country. She’s got no documents so she can’t enrol her in school or anything. They’d be living on the run, and surely that’s not what she’d want?’

Alex scrolled through the contacts in his phone. He wasn’t sure he still had the number, but there it was, towards the bottom of the list. He pressed, hoping she hadn’t changed it. After three rings, he heard the
voice he remembered.

‘Nat,’ he said. ‘It’s Alex.’

‘Oh. Hi.’

She sounded guarded, which was understandable given the circumstances in which they’d last spoken, and the nine years that had passed since.

He said, ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to ask you something.’

‘Um, okay. Just hang on.’ She put her hand over the phone and he heard muffled voices, one of them
male.
How about that.
After a moment, she came on again. ‘What’s up?’

‘Have you heard from or seen Mia or Helen lately?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Why?’

He hesitated, not sure if he’d been so hopeful she’d say yes that he couldn’t quite accept her answer, or if he didn’t actually believe it. It seemed too fast, for one thing, and she sounded on edge. Nervous. Like she might if she was
lying. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. Why? What’s happened?’

‘Mia’s run away.’

‘Oh shit. When? How?’

He told her, then recited the mobile number Mia had been calling. ‘Do you recognise that?’

‘I don’t, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry, Alex. I wish I had heard from Helen so I could help you. But she’s been out of touch with me pretty much since she left you
guys, and I haven’t talked to Mia since the day of that birthday party.’ She paused. ‘I wish that wasn’t true. I haven’t been much of an aunt.’

There was no time to go into that now. Alex said, ‘Let me know if either of them gets in touch.’

‘I will,’ she said. ‘And Alex –’ She stopped.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Just… good luck. Keep me posted, will you? Tell me if I can help.’

‘Sure.’ He hung up.

‘Who was that?’ Jane asked.

‘Helen’s sister, Natasha. I thought Helen might’ve let her know if she was back in the country.’

‘And she hasn’t?’

‘She said no, but she sounded strange.’ He got up and crossed to the window. He felt like he was in hell. Images of kids he’d seen dead and maimed filled his head. ‘Where the fuck are the police? We need
that mobile number traced, we need them to find out if Helen’s back in the country. What the fuck are they doing?’

‘Did you check her bank account?’ Jane said.

He went back to the computer, sick and tense. As he opened the ANZ website, Jane went out of the room and he heard her phoning someone called Rooney and telling him or her what had happened. He logged on, then clicked to open
Mia’s account page, while Jane asked Rooney if the response could be hurried up a bit.

He stared at the screen, and when she came back in he said, ‘She had three hundred dollars in here, and she withdrew it all a week ago.’

Jane came around to look, then squeezed his shoulder in what he knew was meant to be reassurance.

*

Murray drove, and Ella glared out the window. Langley
was unbelievable. She’d presented him with a more or less legitimate lead, and sure, she hadn’t expected praise exactly, but attitude like that? Her blood boiled up all over again.

‘Wakey, wakey,’ Murray said, turning off the car. They were outside Miriam Holder’s apartment.

She looked at the building. ‘I was here last night.’

‘Where?’

‘Here,’ she said. ‘Parked here on
the street, watching the flat.’

He looked as if he was about to say something disapproving, but instead said, ‘See anything?’

‘There was a light on inside but I didn’t spot any movement. I talked to a neighbour, but he hadn’t seen her either. I went to Canning’s place too, but there was nothing to call in any anonymous tips over.’ She turned to face him. ‘There must be some way we
can go over Langley’s head without stuffing up our careers. Your dad could do something. Have you told him about how Langley’s restricting us?’

‘My dad’s got no power,’ he said.

‘Bullcrap. It’s the boys’ club –’

‘He doesn’t. I told him already and he said there’s nothing he can do.’

‘So we’re stuck.’

‘Sorry.’

She got out and slammed her door. Her phone buzzed
in her pocket. A text from Callum:
I really would like to talk.
Ridiculous that he thought he could twice behave so shittily then apologise the next day, and everything would be fine. Delete.

She stormed to the building’s front door and pressed the button for Number 8, waited five seconds for the reply she didn’t expect, then moved on to Number 7.

‘Yes?’ The woman’s voice was old but
bright.

‘New South Wales police detectives,’ Ella said. ‘May we speak with you?’

‘I’m on the top floor.’

The buzzer sounded and Murray pushed the door open. They climbed the stairs, going past the closed door to Number 6 where she’d spoken to the male neighbour yesterday. On the top floor landing, a woman in her early seventies, with rectangular glasses and permed and dyed black
hair, waited in her doorway.

Her name was Gwen Gorrie and she’d lived there for six years. Her flat smelled of coffee and toast. The walls of her living room bore faded Elvis posters, worn Beatles’ album covers, old concert tickets stapled to a ragged red ribbon that was nailed to the plasterboard, and assorted postcards featuring Graceland.

She told them that she knew all the other
residents by sight and some by name. ‘Some aren’t too chatty, like to keep themselves to themselves.’

‘How about your neighbour across the landing?’

‘Miriam Holder,’ Gorrie said. ‘Skinny miss with a frown.’

Ella started to feel a little better. ‘So you’re not friends?’

‘She’s too curt for friendship,’ Gorrie said. ‘She’ll paste a smile on her face and ask me to get her
post if she’s going away, but that’s the longest conversation we ever have.’

‘Are you getting her mail at the moment?’ Murray asked.

Gorrie shook her head. ‘Is she away? Has something happened to her?’

‘When did you last see her?’

‘Two days ago, in the afternoon. I was coming up the stairs with a couple of bags of groceries and I heard her come slamming into the building,
then she flew up behind me and past me and into her apartment. I said hello but she didn’t answer. Didn’t even look around.’

‘Was that uncommon?’

‘The rushing was,’ Gorrie said. ‘The ignoring less so. She gives the impression she always has a great deal on her mind.’

‘Did you see or hear her go out again later that day?’ Ella said. ‘Or since?’

‘No, but that doesn’t mean
she didn’t. I often have music or the TV playing fairly loudly. I wouldn’t necessarily have heard her.’

‘How about visitors?’ Ella asked. ‘Does she get many?’

Gorrie smiled. ‘You mean her gentleman caller? He seems friendly. Said hello to me a couple of times. Flushed red when he did, but that could be because he’s had to haul himself up all those stairs. Can’t be easy when you’re
so big.’

Ella sat forward, hopeful. ‘How big?’

Gorrie stood up and held one hand in the air, then both out to the side. ‘Big. Large. Round. With a voice to match.’

Yes!

‘When did you last see him?’ Ella asked.

‘Last week, I’d say.’

‘How often was he here?’

‘On and off over the last few months. Not all that often. Not regular either. Well, not that I saw
anyway, but as I said, if I’ve got the music on I wouldn’t necessarily hear.’

‘What was the timing?’ Ella said. ‘Did he seem to be coming for meals, or to stay the night, or what?’

‘The few times I saw him were different times of the day,’ Gorrie said. ‘There was no pattern that I noticed. The one time I saw him at both ends of the visit, he’d been there an hour, maybe two at the most.’

‘How was Miriam when he spoke to you?’

‘In a flap,’ Gorrie said with a smile. ‘Like she was embarrassed. But what do I care who she entertains?’

Ella smiled back, and got out her card. ‘How would you feel about keeping the music down today?’

*

Jane made tea and toast, but Alex couldn’t get any of it down. He stood at the front door until a police car pulled up, ten
minutes after Jane’s call. He wanted to shout at the officers but didn’t.

They were calm and serious. Senior Constable Brent Mason made introductions, then listened to everything Alex and Louise said while Constable Ellis Danaher wrote it all down. Alex felt no better.

At the end, Mason nodded. ‘Here’s what will happen next. We’ll put in a request to Immigration to find out if your
ex is back in the country, and if so, what address she gave them when she entered. We’ll get a trace started on this mobile number. We’ll put Mia’s picture into the system and alert all stations and cars. We’ll let the media know too.’

‘You have a recent photo?’ Danaher asked.