by Perry, Kyle
Nelly didn’t even twitch.
‘What did they do?’ said the commander.
‘Cierra pushed me back out of the room before I could see anything else. She made me swear to never, ever tell anyone.’ Tears now glistened in Madison’s eyes. ‘So I went back to my room and put my headphones in.’
‘Why did you think Cierra might have been in danger?’
Madison shrugged. ‘Just did.’
‘I need you to be honest with me,’ said Agatha. ‘Why did you believe there was danger?’
Madison shrugged again.
‘Even if you don’t think it’s important, Madison, you need to tell me.’
‘Alright!’ Madison looked away. ‘Because of who I thought she was seeing. Okay?’
‘You knew she was meeting Miss Ellis?’
‘No.’ Madison’s cheeks went red. ‘If I’d known that, I would never have . . . She was dating a boy, and before that she had asked me . . .’
‘What did she ask you, Madison?’
‘She asked if I wanted to join them.’ The tears returned in a sudden rush.
Nelly started. She turned to Madison, pulling her close. ‘Shh, baby . . . shhh . . .’
‘She told me she was seeing someone,’ Madison’s voice was hoarse and trembling, ‘and that both of them really wanted to try a threesome, because we were twins and he was really into that. I said no – of course I said no, it’s disgusting. The boy she was dating is an absolute slut. His name is Tyler Cabot. You should question him. He was at school all day, but I just . . . I thought maybe Tyler was hurting her, but then I walked in and it was Miss Ellis. And then the whole twin thing made sense!’
Madison became hysterical, shaking her hands in front of her as though trying to fan her face. Nelly pulled her head closer.
Con was certain Madison’s tears were real. For the first time, she had lost control of a situation. That meant she truly did think Eliza was the one in Cierra’s room.
‘It’s alright,’ said the commander absently. ‘It’s okay . . .’
An hour later, Con and Agatha stood outside the interview room, Agatha with a manila folder in her hand.
‘Why does this feel wrong?’ he muttered.
‘You’ve never had a problem with bending the rules before,’ said Agatha.
Con was silent a moment. He’d already told her about Doble, and she hadn’t been surprised in the least. It still rankled him, more so now he saw that what he was about to do could, probably, be construed as something akin to entrapment. I’m nothing like Doble. ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me there was this kind of corruption around?’
‘Because sometimes, Cornelius, you only see the good in people, and sometimes that’s what makes the best detectives – and I sorely need good detectives. Now stop fidgeting.’
‘I never fidget,’ he said, affronted.
She opened the door and the two of them walked inside.
Eliza Ellis was already waiting – alone, without her lawyer, whom she’d not requested to attend. She’d been kept in remand all night and was now dressed in the clothing her sister had brought in for her. Across the metal table she appeared weak, pale.
Con and Agatha watched Eliza for several minutes. She kept shivering occasionally, but her back was straight.
Suddenly Agatha stood up, so quickly Eliza flinched. Agatha opened the door and shouted, so Eliza could hear, ‘Could we have the heaters turned up in here?’
She returned and sat back down. She gave a sad smile. ‘Well, I can’t say I agree . . .’ She took some papers out of the folder and shuffled them. ‘But I suppose I understand.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Eliza.
‘I had the most interesting chat with Madison Mason earlier today. She remembers a lot that she initially didn’t think was important.’
The commander pretended to read through a typed-up ‘report’, which she and Con had fabricated just half an hour earlier. It was full of things that Madison definitely did not say. It wasn’t illegal, as it wouldn’t leave the room: it was just a prop. That’s what Con kept telling himself, anyway.
‘Madison said Cierra told her that there was a man coming – a man, mind you – who wanted to experiment with twins.’ She glanced up at Eliza. ‘She said that she heard a thump, like a heavy body hitting the ground. And that, now that she thought about it, the hedges outside her sister’s window were much flatter than before. As though someone had jumped out the window. In fact, that’s likely the bump that she heard.’
The commander showed Eliza a photograph from the Masons’ house, which Con had raced to take just fifteen minutes earlier, with a red circle drawn around the hedge underneath Cierra’s window. There did seem to be some damage to the conifer.
‘The smell of marijuana and the empty bottles in the room . . . Tell me, what is Tom’s alcohol tolerance like? Of course, when you add marijuana, you’re much more likely to feel . . . unwell. No doubt you saw it firsthand when you rushed to the Masons’ house to rescue him. I’ve also heard you should never drink while on steroids.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Eliza.
‘What I am surprised by is that he called you. Did his wife know about it? I’m guessing it was a fetish of his long before he even met you?’ Agatha grimaced. ‘I’m not begrudging the man his sexual tastes, but when it comes to underage girls, especially his students . . . wait, no . . . Cierra called you, didn’t she? Not Tom. She called you, the only person she thought might be able to help in that situation. Did she call from her own phone or from Tom’s?’
‘I want my lawyer.’
‘Certainly. You don’t have to say anything more until she arrives.’
That was Con’s cue.
He tapped at his phone under the desk. Ten seconds later, the timer’s alarm began to ring, sounding like his ringtone.
He made a show of pulling out his phone and looking at it, puzzled, then pretended to answer.
‘This is Con. What have you got, Tran?’ He raised his eyebrows and pitched his voice higher. ‘She’s alive?’
Eliza leaned forward over the table. Con mirrored the action, leaning towards Eliza. He met her eyes, looked away.
‘Yes. Where? Any sign of Jasmine?’ He let his shoulders slump. ‘But Cierra? She’ll be able to talk?’
Eliza released a sob. ‘Thank God!’
‘I’ll be there soon, I just need to finish with Eliza . . . Yes, I agree. We’ll ask the girl to corroborate.’
Eliza had one hand resting on the table and again he mirrored her pose, not letting his gaze linger too long. Mirrored body language to build subconscious rapport. Drawing her into his web.
‘I’ll call you back soon.’ He pretended to hang up the phone, then blew out a long sigh through his teeth. ‘She’s alive,’ he whispered, almost to himself.
‘Perhaps next time you can take the call outside the interview room?’ said Agatha, words clipped.
‘Where is she? Where did they find her? What about Jasmine?’ said Eliza. ‘Con, please!’
Con opened his mouth to reply, but Agatha spoke over him, her voice hard. ‘No. You’ve already said enough, Badenhorst. She’s still a person of interest.’
Eliza fell back, anguish playing on her face.
Con felt a stab of guilt.
‘You know what I think, Miss Ellis? You’re taking the fall for Tom,’ said Agatha. ‘I think you wanted to do the best thing for your sister, her daughter. And I understand that. But I wonder what it is about Tom that makes you want to protect a man like him.’
For the first time, Con saw anger in her face.
‘If Cierra is alive,’ Agatha said wryly, glancing at Con and his phone, ‘then we’ll be finding out the truth soon anyway. But in the meantime, we’re wasting time and resources investigating you. We should be investigating Tom.’
‘You know Tom can’t have been involved,’ said Eliza. ‘He was far ahead of our group.’
‘Then why li
e about his relationship with Cierra?’
Eliza was silent.
‘He’ll go to jail. Maybe you will, too, if we don’t find Jasmine. Once Cierra confirms you were lying, it won’t take long until people start wondering why you haven’t been more closely examined as a suspect.’
‘But Wren will be the one to suffer . . .’
‘And how much has Cierra suffered? And it could have been Madison, too, that night. It was only a matter of time before Tom had them both, just like he wanted. You realise this is sexual abuse, right? Does Monica know?’
‘Yes,’ Eliza finally forced out. ‘She stayed with Wren when I went to get Tom.’ Tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘Cierra is safe . . . thank God . . .’ She began to cry.
Con felt the prickling of guilt all over his body.
When Eliza regained a little composure, Agatha slid one of the pieces of paper across the table – it was a typed confession. Agatha, with Con’s input, had included everything. ‘You’ll sign this, confessing that Tom was the perpetrator,’ said Agatha.
Eliza picked up the pen and signed.
An hour later, Con and Agatha sat across from Tom North and his lawyer, a Mrs Barrow.
‘Whatever that bitch said about me, it’s all lies,’ Tom shouted.
Commander Normandy took a long sip from her cup of tea, never taking her eyes off him.
‘Shall we discuss the ludicrous charge against my client?’ said Mrs Barrow finally.
‘Yes,’ said Agatha, ‘we shall. We have a statement here, from Eliza Ellis.’
‘You’re basing this on the word of a woman trying to save her own bacon?’ said Mrs Barrow. ‘Surely you’re smarter than that?’
‘It won’t be long before we have a forensic report showing Mr North’s DNA matches that found on the weed and condom wrappers from Cierra’s room. Curiously, did you know your client tried to refuse a DNA sample? It had to be taken from him by force.’
‘Be that as it may —’
‘Be that as it is, Mrs Barrow. Mr North, are you going to be honest with us, or will I need to make another cup of tea while you continue playing games?’ Her voice was hard. ‘There are three missing girls, and a family mourning the loss of another. I would like to put my energy into investigating that. The more you delay me here, the more I suspect you have something to do with it.’ She leaned forward. ‘Word has already started to spread about you. Our custody may well be the safest place for you right now. If you continue to waste our time, imagine what will happen if that time is the difference between life and death for Cierra?’
‘Tom, be careful,’ warned Mrs Barrow. ‘Once you’ve said it, you can’t take it back.’
Tom grimaced.
And then he confessed everything.
Yes, it had been him in Cierra’s room. Yes, they’d been having an affair. Yes, Eliza had been in the room that night, she had helped him out the window and then to the hospital. Yes, they could check the hospital’s records. Yes, he knew he was in real trouble. No, no, no, he had nothing to do with their disappearance. No, no, no, there was nothing he wasn’t telling them.
Later, when Con was outside to get a break from fluorescent light and some fresh air, he caught sight of Eliza across the car park. Constable Cavanagh was going to drive Eliza back to Monica North’s house – likely an awkward place for her to be, considering her testimony against Tom.
When she caught Con’s eyes, the look of utter betrayal on her face made him stop. Obviously, she now knew Cierra still hadn’t been found.
Con ducked his head, ashamed, and fled back inside.
Did the end justify the means? He wasn’t so sure anymore.
CHAPTER 35
ELIZA
When Eliza was dropped off, Monica wasn’t home – she was still at the station, where she had tearfully ignored Eliza.
She was so angry at Con! She quickly collected her things and drove herself back to her own house. She’d shared that cottage with Denni for most of last year, just the two of them, auntie and niece . . . but really, Eliza had been of a blend of big sister and mother.
She drove up the driveway to her cottage, at the end of a steep block, the long grass brushing the underside of the car. The lawn was overgrown with blackberries and bracken ferns, and a riot of bursting yellow daffodils.
The cottage itself was small, crooked, haphazard on the steep country block, although the previous owners – an elderly couple with a lot of grandchildren – had edged the whole front wall with a large timber deck. The walls were trailed with deep green English ivy that grew wild up to the roof.
Eliza had fallen in love with the entire house at first sight, and had bought it from the elderly couple for a steal. She could barely stand to look at it now; this would be her first night sleeping in the house since Denni’s death. The rusting barbecue on the deck, the creak of the rooster weather vane, the broken back fence – every part of it brought back painful memories.
But Eliza had to live here now. She couldn’t stay at Monica’s.
But it was the truth. I don’t need to feel guilty about telling the truth . . .
Tom deserves to take the fall, no one is denying that . . .
She sat in the parked car, smothered by guilt over Wren. What would her niece’s life look like now? How long until Monica forgave her?
She pounded the steering wheel in anger.
All because Con lied to me. How could he do that? How could he?
She climbed out of the car and stood in front of the house.
I was tricked. He led me into doing exactly what he wanted. Him and the commander both!
Never again.
A couple of hours later, Eliza lay back in the little bath, full of hot water and lavender oil, holding a glass of wine on the edge of the tub. Gentle music played from her phone while afternoon rain played on the roof, a comforting pitter-patter.
I have permission to be okay.
But she’d forgotten how creepy the house was, creaking and cold. As though Denni’s ghost – malevolent, vengeful – haunted the walls.
Then she heard pounding on the front door. She lurched, spilling the wine. The knocking continued.
She climbed out of the bath, wrapping a white bathrobe around her, and crept to the front door. She opened it a crack.
Madison stood there, her hair wet and clinging in the rain, her red lips drawn back in a snarl. ‘You witch,’ the girl hissed. She shouldered her way forward and forced the door all the way open. She had something in her hand: a small wooden statuette.
‘Get out of my house,’ said Eliza, rage boiling up.
‘I’ve heard all about your “confession”. You’re a liar. A liar. I know what you really are. How did you get into my room?’
‘Your room? What the hell are you talking about?’ spat Eliza.
‘This.’ Madison held up the statue in her hand. It was a carved figure of a woman, about the size of a carton of milk, rough and messily hewn from light brown sassafras, shards of bone driven where its eyes should be and a rough rope noose around its neck.
Eliza stepped back. ‘What is that?’ she said in disgust.
Madison dropped the statuette on the floor, trembling. ‘Don’t lie to me – I know you’re the one who put this in my room! This is one of Denni’s statues! I know you’re lying about Cierra, too!’
‘Denni’s statues?’
‘Why did you help us? You played along with the fight, you did what I said, but now you’re claiming you weren’t sleeping with Cierra?’ Madison’s voice shook, and her eyes kept coming back to the statuette, like iron filings to a magnet. ‘You know what I can do to you, so why did you go along with our plan only to mess with me now?’
‘Aren’t you happy, you little bitch? Everyone’s looking at you. Everyone’s watching your videos. Poor little Madison, her sister and her friend are missing. Poor little Madison, her friend Georgia is dead, just like poor Denni. Good for you, you got what you wanted.’
‘Shut up!’ shrieke
d Madison. ‘You took the girls! I’m going to tell everybody!’ Madison looked at the statuette again, whites showing around her eyes. ‘Where are they? Where are they?’
‘Get out of my house. Get out!’
‘Or what, you’ll call the police?’ said Madison.
‘No. I’ll make my own video, telling everyone how you blackmailed me, how you planned for the girls to disappear.’
‘You can try,’ said Madison, her pale hands clenching and unclenching. ‘Don’t you realise I’m three steps ahead of every one of you?’
‘Then I’ll tell everyone about the Kundela Game.’
Madison froze. A beat later she sneered, but it was forced. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I know Denni was playing. If it had anything to do with her death —’
‘Stupid bitch.’ Madison turned and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her.
The thud of the door set the timber walls creaking. Denni’s ghost, raging.
Eliza fought to regain control of herself. Madison had left behind the statuette. She turned it over in her hands, touching the bone fragments in its eyes, then shuddered. The thing was hideous, and sickly, like the taste of blood in her mouth.
Denni made this . . .
She left it on the little table by the door and walked back to the bathroom, biting her lip. She let the water out of the bath, the drain squealing, and dried herself with trembling hands. She dressed herself and headed back out to the kitchen, tying the red scarf over her forehead.
The statuette filled the room with a slimy menace.
There was another knock on the door.
She straightened her back and wrenched it open, ready for Madison, but it was Detective Gabriella Pakinga. Her eyes were bright, her face flushed.
‘I heard you gave up on trying to protect Tom.’ She sounded excited. ‘And I heard about Con’s dirty trick. But I think I’m close to something, and I need your help . . . I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but I’m not on the case anymore.’ She was taking off her denim jacket when her eyes caught on the statuette. The blood drained from her face.