by Sarah Bailey
Cooper pouts. ‘You said in the car that it was probably jealousy. And maybe you’re right, but maybe it wasn’t jealousy over a guy.’
‘Sure,’ Oli says diplomatically. ‘The green-eyed monster comes in many forms.’
‘The day before she died, Evelyn auditioned for a role in a movie. Did you know that?’
Oli is momentarily floored. Had she known that? She crosses her arms and looks at him expectantly. ‘So?’
‘So, she got the part. She was going to move to Sydney in the new year.’ He lowers his voice as if someone might overhear. ‘I bet she told the girls that night. Nicole always wanted to be an actress. Maybe she was jealous.’
‘That hardly means she killed her friend.’
‘I’m just trying to keep an open mind,’ he says sarcastically. ‘It could have been anything—revenge, a psychotic episode.’
‘Drugs, or shame. Shame is big with young women. Maybe Evelyn was about to reveal some big dark secret about Alex to the world, and she lashed out.’
‘Maybe they had ties to the Mafia.’
Oli rolls her eyes. ‘I said an open mind, not fantasy land.’
‘And then, ten years later, the guilt finally got to Nicole,’ Cooper continues dreamily. ‘She tried her best to make a new life for herself, but ultimately she just couldn’t get away from what she did. It ate her up inside until bang, she ended it all.’
Oli has a sudden thought: what if Alex tracked Nicole down somehow? What if she came to the house on Laker Drive and took Evie? Maybe that’s why Alex hasn’t called Cooper yet—she might be halfway across the country with a kid in tow.
But then the suicide wouldn’t make sense. Surely Nicole would stop at nothing to get her child back if someone took her. Oli considers a different possibility: maybe it was all too much for Nicole and she decided to end her life and take her daughter with her. She might be dead on the property somewhere.
Oli glances at her watch. ‘I need to file something soon.’ She scratches the side of her face—something is making her skin itch. She looks up at the trees accusingly.
Cooper is bouncing around as if he needs to piss. He cranes his neck back toward the main street. ‘There’s a cafe over there. We can grab a coffee, and you can write up your piece? I mean, I don’t really know how you usually work, but I’m happy to do whatever you want.’
Oli closes her eyes, trying to think. The trouble with this job is that there’s no roadmap telling you what to do next; there’s just deadline after deadline, and angry editors yelling and texting from the office.
She scans what she can see of the main street. Dawn’s intel suggests that the jogger spotted Nicole’s body early this morning, and from what Oli saw of her corpse, she hasn’t been dead longer than a day. Oli feels a surge of hope. If Nicole planned her suicide, there’s a chance she also made plans to protect her daughter. Perhaps she entrusted the little girl to someone she knew would look after her and keep things as normal as possible.
Oli rams the empty milk carton into the chip packet and starts back toward the car. She wants to believe the child is alive. ‘Come on!’ she yells over her shoulder.
‘Where are we going?’
‘To the school.’
‘School?’
‘Yep.’ She fires up the car, revs the engine, then activates the GPS app, which thankfully has decided to start working again. Once Cooper is in too, Oli reverses onto the road. Her heartbeat is racing ahead of her brain. ‘We need to find Nicole Horrowitz’s daughter.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
CRYSTAL BROOK PRIMARY SCHOOL IS ALMOST ENTIRELY CAMOUFLAGED by gums. The twists and turns of the unwieldy building seem to accommodate the tree trunks and native shrubbery rather than the other way around. There are only four cars parked out front: two Toyotas, a Ford ute and a tired-looking Holden, hardly the fancy specimens always parked in front of Amy and Kate’s school. No cops, which might just mean they’re slow to move—or, thinks Oli grimly, it might mean they already know Nicole’s little girl is dead.
Oli pulls open the heavy front door and strides confidently toward the reception area, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder as she looks past the worn partition. Cooper stands to her left, repeatedly lacing his fingers. A young woman in jeans and a lemon-coloured jumper is rustling through a filing cabinet, humming loudly to an Usher song on the radio.
‘Hello. My name is Sarah Finlayson.’ Oli speaks loudly, using her trusty old fake name. ‘From the Education Department.’
The girl startles and promptly drops two folders. Her fringe is set in a thick curve above her wideset eyes, giving her a distinctly churchy look. ‘Oh!’ She looks at Oli and looks at the folders. ‘Um.’ She bites her lip.
‘You can get those.’
The girl squats to pick them up, her face flushed. ‘I’m Hayley. Did you say you’re from the Education Department?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Oli says primly. ‘We’re here to inquire about a student. Evie Maslan.’ Oli speaks briskly and flits her eyes impatiently around the room.
‘Evie Maslan?’ Hayley’s face lights up, then drops. ‘Why, what’s happened?’
‘Evie is ten, correct?’
Hayley looks from Cooper to Oli. ‘Ah, yes, ten or eleven.’
‘Must be her,’ Oli murmurs, letting her gaze rest on the wall before whipping her eyes back to Hayley, who straightens her shoulders in response. ‘Is Evie in class right now?’
Hayley shakes her head. ‘She doesn’t go to school here.’
Cooper flips out his iPad and starts typing. ‘Do you know which school she attends?’ His voice is several notes deeper than normal. ‘I’m Clark Wayne,’ he adds, clearing his throat.
‘Her mother homeschools her, but she’s linked to our community so attends our events occasionally. Please, can you tell me what’s happened?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Oli says, ‘we really can’t discuss it. Have you met her parents?’
Hayley’s hand goes to fiddle with her necklace. ‘I met Natalie a few times. She’s nice.’
‘Mmmmm.’ Cooper acts as if this piece of information is fascinating.
Oli gives him a sharp look, and he busies himself with clearing his throat again.
‘Should I get the principal?’ Hayley squeaks. ‘I can call him?’
‘No, that won’t be necessary.’ Oli holds out her hand. ‘Thank you for your help.’ In situations like this, she finds it’s best to keep people talking, moving and thinking. The more their senses are occupied, the less likely they are to remember details. ‘Like I said, our investigation is confidential, so we’d appreciate it if you kept this exchange to yourself, Ms … ?’
‘Oh, ah, Thurston. Hayley Thurston.’
Oli smiles stiffly. ‘Thank you, Ms Thurston.’
‘Of course. As long as Evie’s okay.’ Hayley pulls on the locket around her neck. ‘She is okay, isn’t she?’
‘Have a good afternoon, Hayley.’ Oli sets her lips in a line and heads to the door.
Cooper gives Hayley an awkward wave and follows.
‘Clark Wayne?’ Oli says as she gets in the car.
Cooper’s dark eyes shine. ‘Yeah, well, I was trying to think of an alias, but I knew if I said Bruce Wayne it might be kind of obvious, so I figured I’d combine Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne.’
‘Genius.’
Cooper looks pleased.
Before starting the car, Oli calls Dawn and fills her in.
‘This kid stuff is incredible, Oli, but I’m not running with it until you’ve got more.’
Oli bites her lip and puts the keys in the ignition. ‘We’ll push the cops, see if they’ll talk once we tell them what we’ve got.’
‘Good. We need to get some new info up as soon as possible to go with the shots.’ Multiple phones trill in the background, and a male voice dips in and out of range. ‘Can you get us copy in an hour?’
‘I’ll try.’
‘It looks like O’Brien’s going to get off, so
TJ’s lining up some interviews. But no matter what, we’ll have to juggle both stories for the next twenty-four hours.’
‘Okay.’ Oli presses her lips together. ‘Makes sense.’
‘When are you speaking to Alex Riboni?’
‘The interview is supposed to be on Sunday, but we’re pushing to speak to her earlier.’
‘Good,’ Dawn purrs. ‘That will show the slugs at the Sun. There’s a lot riding on it, Oli, so make sure that kid knows what he’s doing.’
Oli hangs up and starts the car. ‘Damn it.’
‘Everything okay?’ Cooper says.
‘Just deadlines.’ She exhales slowly. ‘It’s fine.’
He checks his phone. ‘Still nothing from Alex.’
Oli is starting to think that there won’t be an interview with Alex at all.
Thick bushland blurs as they drive past, heading to the cafe on the main strip.
‘Do you do that kind of thing all the time?’ Cooper asks, a tentative note in his voice.
‘What kind of thing?’ Oli yanks down the visor.
‘Pretend to be someone else?’
She shrugs. ‘Sometimes, it just depends. Often it’s the easiest way to get information, especially before a story breaks and people refuse to talk to you.’
‘Don’t you feel bad lying like that? I mean, she seemed nice.’
‘No,’ Oli replies. ‘I know what I’m using the information for, I know my intentions are good. As long as that’s always clear in my head, I don’t feel bad.’
He stares straight ahead.
‘What, you don’t like that answer?’ She glances at his profile, sees his jaw set at a stubborn tilt.
‘I thought only cops went undercover,’ he says after a few moments.
‘Cops conduct extensive undercover operations. I just throw a fake name around now and then in exchange for information. Sometimes making yourself part of the story is the best way to get the facts.’
When Oli first met Dean eleven years ago, she was going by Sarah Finlayson. She had parked herself at a bar, eyes ringed with dark liner, tight white singlet exposing her tanned cleavage, when Dean came to her rescue. He firmly removed the sweaty arm of a man she’d been talking to who had started to blatantly grope her.
Oli was after the scoop on some high-flying lawyers allegedly involved in wide-reaching fraud that involved one of the big four banks, and she knew that two of the key players frequented this bar every Friday. So, she had tarted herself up three weeks in a row, but all she’d learned so far was that rich professional men could be just as creepy as poor uni students, and that drinking too many lemon, lime and bitters gave her mouth ulcers.
Dean Yardley was different. ‘I’m sorry that dickhead was harassing you. Guys like that give men a bad name.’ Dean proceeded to study her face so intently, she felt like she was being examined under white light. ‘Do you want me to sit with you while you wait for whoever it is you’re waiting for?’ His wedding ring glinted, and his cologne filled her nostrils, reminding her of crafted wooden furniture and old movies. She could tell he was older than she was, but he was very good-looking—of course, he was also very married.
‘It’s just me,’ she said. ‘But I’m fine, thanks.’
His hand on the small of her bare back felt protective, not predatory. She didn’t want him to stop touching her. ‘I’m sure you know this,’ he said, ‘but you have the most incredible voice.’
‘Thank you,’ she said simply.
He smiled. ‘I’m Dean.’
‘I’m Sarah.’
‘And how do I contact you, Sarah?’
‘You don’t.’
He pinched the skin between his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. ‘Fair enough.’
She discreetly pulled in her stomach, stuck out her chest.
‘Well, even if I never see you again, I’m not sure it’s safe for you here alone. You might get hassled by another creep.’ His tone was loaded, but he didn’t try anything on. He told her later that although he wanted to kiss her right there in the bar, he thought it was important that if anything happened between them it was on her terms.
‘Honestly, I’m fine.’ She smiled at him, and he smiled back, his eyes glued to her lips. ‘And surely you have to get back to your friends?’
‘Boring businessmen.’ He laughed. ‘From out of town. Believe me, I’d rather hang with you.’
He offered to buy her a drink before he returned to his table. She acquiesced and spent the next half an hour sipping the elaborate cocktail, her nerves on fire every time his gaze shifted her way.
The dodgy lawyers never showed up, and Oli left, even though she wanted to stay. Dean tipped his beer and winked at her as she weaved through the crowd to the exit. She smiled back and elbowed off unwanted attention until she was safely in a cab.
On the following two Fridays, she returned to the bar. She finally scored a lead on the lawyers, but Dean didn’t show again.
He appeared two months later, outside court, while she was jostling with her peers, shouting questions at the premier about infrastructure overspend. Dean, outrageously handsome in a suit, was standing with the communications team. His eyebrows shot into the air. ‘Sarah,’ he mouthed. She shrugged and winked, a move that was completely out of character, but he made her feel light. Playful. She sometimes wonders how things would have turned out if she had pretended not to recognise him, had turned down his offer of a drink later that evening.
‘I don’t do it as much as I used to,’ she muses to Cooper. ‘I guess it’s different these days—so much information is on social media.’
‘So where to now?’ he asks.
‘We need to find the kid. Dawn’s not keen to run with it until we can be sure.’
He swallows. ‘Do you think Evie could be at the house?’
‘I think it’s possible. Or Nicole might have taken her somewhere safe.’ Oli pauses, daring to say what they’re surely both thinking. ‘Or it could be a murder–suicide.’
‘Yeah, I figured that too.’ Cooper looks out the window, his jaw tensing again.
‘But,’ she reasons, ‘if they found another body at the house, I think Rusty would have told me. Assuming he knew.’
Cooper brightens. ‘So maybe Evie is with someone else. A friend or something.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Maybe she’s with a neighbour?’
‘I hope so but realistically there’s every chance she’s dead too, so we should be prepared for that.’
‘That’s pretty negative,’ Cooper says prissily.
Oli looks at him, eyebrow arched. ‘When you’ve been doing this as long as I have, you tend to assume the worst.’
He shrugs like he thinks this is a bad strategy. ‘Nicole might have had a partner, so maybe Evie is with them.’
‘Sure,’ Oli says sarcastically, ‘in which case I’d really like to, first, know who he is and, second, see what he has to say about the whole situation.’
Cooper looks confused. ‘She might have had a female partner.’
Oli forces herself to stay calm. ‘Sure, whatever. Male or female, the point is that partners are problematic. They’re the most likely to kill you, and your kids.’
‘You saw her,’ Cooper whispers. ‘Did it look like she’d been murdered to you?’
‘No,’ says Oli, scratching at her chin, her nose, ‘but we don’t know what happened yet. Maybe he did something to Evie, and it drove Nicole to take her own life. Statistically, if you’re murdered it’s most likely at the hand of your partner, ex-partner, kid or parents. In that order.’
‘I know the stats.’ Cooper turns his head to look out the window. ‘I’m not an idiot.’
Oli sails through the roundabout, easing them back into the main street of Crystalbrook. ‘Had you ever seen a dead body before?’
‘Not in real life,’ he mumbles.
‘Well, if you’re going to be a crime journalist you need to get used to it. It’s not as bad as be
ing a paramedic or a cop, but it’s still pretty bleak sometimes.’ She meets her own gaze in the rear-view mirror, hating how naive her round blue eyes make her look. ‘Though I have to say, that scene today was pretty bad.’
Cooper nods, looking stricken.
She hopes he isn’t about to fall in a heap. ‘Anyway, that’s enough Journalism 101 from me for today. I need to get some copy to Dawn.’ Oli indicates the cafe on the other side of the road adorned with old-fashioned lampposts and cast-iron trimmings. ‘You can start making some calls.’ She holds up her hand as he opens his mouth to speak. ‘We need to start lining up other interviews—with family members, Miles Wu, everyone at the party that night who will talk to us.’
‘Okay, sure.’ Cooper wipes his palms on his jeans. ‘I can do that.’
‘And I want to go through your questions for Alex. God, I hope she gets in touch soon.’
Without warning, the road shudders beneath them. A fire engine screams past at breakneck speed, heading in the direction of Laker Drive. Less than thirty seconds later, another does the same. Cooper’s mouth pulls into an O.
‘Shit,’ Oli says.
He looks at her. ‘You said nothing else was going to happen at the—’
‘Shut up, Cooper.’ Oli puts her foot to the floor.
CHAPTER NINE
A NEAT CLOUD OF SMOKE BILLOWS ABOVE THE TREES. OLI AND Cooper are silent, both lost in their own scrambled thoughts. Oli’s entire body is like a coiled spring as she sifts through the possibilities. Maybe Evie was locked in a storage shed and set it on fire in an escape attempt?
Oli grits her teeth and pulls over at the Laker Drive turn-off, her stomach in knots. She turns to Cooper. ‘Take the car and see if you can get higher. We can always pick up the aerial footage from the TV networks, but if you can find a lookout you might get a decent shot of whatever is going on.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To find someone who can tell me what the hell is happening.’ Without waiting for his reply, she heads off on foot, thankful again she’s wearing her boots. The cool air is already hazy with smoke, but there are no sirens now. The only sounds are the swish of the trees and the erratic orchestra of birdlife. She starts to jog, her legs protesting immediately. She used to swim three times a week, pushing her body through the water while she turned stories over in her head. When was the last time she went to the pool? March?