by Sarah Bailey
Oli pictures Isabelle’s handwriting in the diaries. ‘I don’t know.’
Bowman lifts his head and looks back at the sky. ‘Good intentions aside, it’s not helpful when people who have no information try to connect dots that aren’t there. There is a lot of information you don’t have.’
‘I don’t care what Nicole told her sister. Those girls, they were all involved in something bad. It wasn’t just Alex.’ She pauses, catches her breath. ‘Did you think there was a link between the housemates and Louise Carter?’
He glances inside. Scratches his head. ‘I’ll give you an exclusive, give you a quote, but I want you to hold off for a few hours. Let us have a chance to work through this mess.’
‘Until when?’ she counters. She can’t get anything in print tomorrow now anyway—a few hours exclusive online is probably the best she can expect at this point.
‘How does midday sound?’ He coughs.
A possum rustles the leaves of a nearby tree, and they both look in its direction.
‘No, earlier,’ says Oli. ‘How about 9 am?’
‘You’ve had a busy day, Ms Groves. And a difficult week.’ Bowman seems to hesitate. ‘Constable Frost tells me you’re under a lot of pressure, and with what happened to your colleague, well,’ he holds up his hands, ‘you really should get some rest. We can talk in the morning. I’m sure I can work with your deadline if required.’
His tone is patronising, but when she meets his gaze she only sees concern. Has Rusty told him about her visit to Bouris? She crosses her arms to try to keep warm. ‘I want everything you have,’ she says, forcing herself to look him straight in the eye. ‘Everything.’ Oli catches Rusty staring at them from the kitchen window. ‘And you should know, I’m not scared to run a story on how you failed to draw a link between the cases ten years ago.’
A white puff of air bursts from Bowman’s mouth. ‘No point standing around in the cold, then. I’d best get to it.’ He turns on his heel and stalks back into the house.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
TUESDAY, 15 SEPTEMBER 2015
OLI DRIVES STRAIGHT TO THE OFFICE. BOTH HER HUNGER AND exhaustion have vanished, no match for the fiery charge of a story. The streets are almost empty, giving the world a strange apocalyptic feel. Nineties hits play on the radio, the graveyard shift DJ recounting stories from his youth in between songs. Oli taps her fingers along to Green Day, Nirvana, No Doubt.
At the office she pauses briefly at the news desk to speak to Kay, a plump redhead who has been working nights for over a decade. Oli tells her she will file copy for editorial to review by 8 am. Suggests she get the legal team on standby. Without a word, Kay plonks her romance novel on the desk, moves her hands to her keyboard and starts to type.
As Oli takes the stairs to the studio, she fishes out the keys Cooper gave her. She flicks on the light and blinks as her pupils adjust. Cooper’s juice is still on the table alongside his pens and notebook. She ignores it all and sits facing the door, opens her laptop. Flexes her fingers.
Oli writes hard and fast, her typing like gunfire. Her eyes sting and her back aches, but she doesn’t stop until she’s done. She re-reads the piece, replacing some words here and there, then emails it to Kay. Slumping back in her seat, she feels stunned; blood pounds through her head as if she’s been running, and her arms and legs are floppy and weak.
She left Rusty at Cara’s house with Bowman, barely saying goodbye. Shame at her earlier confession has crept in, paired with guilt at dragging him into her mess. He makes her feel safe, but he can’t be her saviour. She feels caught between the past and the future. The perfect life with Dean that she had been sailing toward now seems completely out of reach. Maybe it always was.
Her encounter with Theo Bouris plays over in her mind. Someone must have tipped him off about Isabelle, cut him a deal to hunt her down. He wouldn’t have needed much convincing—he was on parole, hours from being hauled in for a spate of fresh crimes, and he surely revelled in the idea of going down in flames. Killing Isabelle was his grand finale, and an act that quite possibly secured him some kind of financial future for his wife and kids while he was in gaol.
Oli’s thoughts go to Dean again, her emotions running in opposite directions. She wants to be with him, back when it was just the two of them lost in their bubble. Not with the Dean who has appeared these past few days, the one she can’t trust. The one she worries has done something truly evil.
On a whim, she turns on the sound system and moves to Cooper’s chair. She puts on the headphones and speaks into the mic, her deep voice extra gritty from the lack of sleep. She provides some background on Isabelle, then on Bouris, explaining how they came to meet, before detailing Isabelle’s final moments. Oli pauses before switching to the present. She lays out the questions that have plagued her during the past few days, then describes her visit to the prison. Blood thrumming, she ends with an appeal for information before pressing stop. She pushes the equipment to the side and rests her arms on the table, tips her head forward and sleeps.
Oli wakes with a jolt. No concept of time. Checks her phone: almost 6 am. Ignoring a voicemail from Kay, she finds some gum in her bag and brushes her hair. She feels supercharged, as if she’s drunk a dozen coffees. She plugs the recorder into her laptop, downloads the file she recorded about Isabelle’s murder and attaches it to an email for Dawn, typing Idea for a new podcast episode into the subject line. Next she reads over the piece she wrote about Nicole and Evie, the babysitting link, and the possibility that Evie is Louise. The words are unfamiliar, as if written by a ghost. She sends it off to Kay and copies Dawn, explaining that Bowman agreed to revert to her by 9 am.
Sitting back against the chair, she looks over at Cooper’s scrawled notes. Doubt grips her. If Nicole took Louise in 2005, where did she hide the little girl the month before she disappeared? Not the Paradise Street house—even if Alex and Evelyn were involved, it would have been impossible to conceal a one-year-old from Miles and the neighbours for over three weeks. Unless Louise was drugged, perhaps. But why would Nicole take her?
Oli presses her fingertips into the arches of her eyebrows. Julian McCrae went to Cara’s house last Friday, that much is certain.
Just before Oli shuts her laptop, she notices the Melbourne Today home page is advertising a new episode of the Housemate podcast. The second episode is live. The last thing she and Cooper worked on together. She bolts from the room before the tears take hold.
The McCraes’ double-storey terrace looks enchanted in the early morning light. Insects create a pretty haze across the small square of lawn, and ivy ripples gently at the eaves. Oli presses hard on the doorbell and glances nervously behind her. She’s hedging her bets that the cops won’t come calling here until later this morning, once changeover has happened and Bowman has had some sleep. A rustle inside makes it clear that she has woken the McCraes, and she braces herself for a confrontation.
Julian opens the door, Diana behind him. A repeat of the scene from yesterday—god, was it only yesterday?—but this time the couple are bleary-eyed, hair matted, dressing-gowns thrown over flannel pyjamas.
‘Oh.’ Julian looks both surprised and defeated.
Diana’s small face puckers with nerves.
‘Sorry,’ Oli says. ‘I’m sorry, but can I please come in? It’s important.’
A beat goes by, but she can tell they will acquiesce. It seems they don’t have the energy to turn her away, perhaps sensing the inevitability of what is to come.
Diana ushers Hugo ahead of her into an airy kitchen. ‘Coffee?’
‘Yes, please,’ Oli says.
The house is stunning, a perfect alchemy of glossy textures. Tasteful art adorns the walls, flowers bursting from perfectly positioned vases. The kitchen looks out across a light-grey courtyard to a garden studio weighed down by ivy. A sparrow dips in and out of a sculpted bird bath, framed perfectly in the window.
Oli runs a finger under each eye, adjusts her coat. She must look awful.
&nbs
p; Diana busies herself in the kitchen, and Julian watches her before his gaze drifts to Oli. ‘Have a seat,’ he says formally.
They sit opposite each other, waiting for Diana. She places a steaming mug down in front of Oli, hands her husband an espresso cup. They sip their drinks in unison. Oli puts hers on the coffee table, while Diana and Julian cling to theirs, eyes huge.
‘Nicole Horrowitz has been in Melbourne this past week,’ Oli says. ‘But you both already know that.’
Diana’s mouth falls open. Julian doesn’t move.
Oli fixes her gaze on him. ‘I know you met with her. You gave her money. Why?’
He puts the cup on the table and takes his wife’s hand. Looks at his feet, clad in dark-green slippers.
‘Professor McCrae?’
‘Yes, yes. I mean, Christ, what do you want me to say?’
‘How about the truth,’ Diana says firmly.
They lock eyes. A long look.
‘Yes, I gave her money.’ Head in his hands.
‘You’ve been giving her money for years,’ says Oli. ‘Why?’
‘Because I was trying to do the right thing!’ Flecks of saliva fly from his mouth. ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’
‘Tell me what happened,’ Oli says.
He moans quietly. ‘She, Nicole … She was impossible.’ He looks to Diana for confirmation, turns back to Oli. ‘She was. In the beginning she was going to help us. We’d become close.’ He holds up his hands. ‘Nothing inappropriate, she was my student, but I guess I admired her. She had spunk. Evelyn did too, although she was more introverted. I enjoyed their company. One night we went to a student play in the city and got a drink afterwards. I told them that Diana and I were having trouble conceiving, that she’d been told she couldn’t have a baby.’
Next to him Diana uncrosses her legs, recrosses them.
‘It felt like it all happened quite quickly.’ Julian looks confused. ‘Nicole did some research and proposed how it might work, what we would pay her and such.’ He glances at Diana again, who nods absently. ‘It felt right. She was so sure of it all. It was as if we’d met her at the perfect moment.’ His forehead crinkles. ‘But then it all went horribly wrong. We became friends. All of us.’ He squeezes Diana’s hand again. ‘Nicole was a real intellectual, wise beyond her years, and I liked talking to her. We discussed waiting until November to go ahead with the procedure—after exams. She came here for dinner once, then she invited us to dinner.’
‘At her house.’
Julian moistens his lips. ‘Yes.’
‘But you didn’t go,’ Oli says to Diana.
‘Diana came down with a migraine,’ Julian answers for her. ‘But I felt like I should still go.’ He pauses. ‘Nicole was very friendly, but the others were clearly uncomfortable that I was there. Even Evelyn seemed a bit frosty. I could tell something odd was going on between the three girls, although it was only the second time I met Alex.’ He hangs his head. ‘Even now I can’t really explain it. It was the most reckless thing I’ve ever done. I was drunk, but I realise that’s no excuse.’
‘What happened?’ Oli presses.
‘After I’d been there a couple of hours, Nicole made it clear she wanted to sleep with me.’
Diana flinches.
‘I came back from the bathroom, and she pulled me into her room. She said she’d had a terrible few weeks, that things weren’t going her way and that I could make her feel better. She said we had a connection and that if she had our child it was essentially the same thing anyway. It was almost November. I was aroused, yes, but I also felt compelled. I don’t know how else to explain it. Basically I wasn’t thinking, and what she was saying about the baby made sense in my muddled mind. She was so insistent, very determined. She locked the door and that was that.’
The house is silent. The McCraes’ expensive appliances don’t even hum.
‘Afterwards I was mortified—I barely spoke to her, just said goodbye to the others and left.’ He brings his hands together. ‘I think for days I was in shock, not just about what had happened to Evelyn but also what I’d done. And once we learned Nicole had disappeared, I suppose I assumed it was my fault. That she was upset about what happened between us. I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted was for it not to have happened.’
‘You didn’t tell anyone?’
‘Not a soul. Diana was very upset about Nicole’s disappearance. Not only were we worried about her, but she had been our source of hope. I have to admit, however, that a part of me was glad. I wanted to forget what had happened, and that would have been easier if she was gone.’
‘But she wasn’t,’ Oli says.
‘Well, not exactly. She contacted me, maybe eight weeks later.’
‘Where from?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She said I had to give her money. That she was pregnant and that if I didn’t give her money she would tell everyone I raped her that night and that’s why she disappeared.’
Diana looks stricken. ‘Oh, Julian.’
‘So you sent her the money?’ Oli asks.
‘Yes.’ He nods miserably. ‘To a PO box in New South Wales.’
‘And you’ve been doing that ever since?’
‘Yes.’ His voice is barely audible. ‘She said that if I didn’t, she would tell the child that I’d refused to provide support for her. It seemed like the least I could do. Over the years I sent money wherever Nicole asked me to.’
His sadness is contagious, and Oli feels it deep in her bones. ‘What happened last week?’
‘My mobile was playing up, and Nicole called me at the house. Said she was in Melbourne. I’d obviously seen the news and I was worried. She sounded desperate and asked me to bring her money in person.’ His eyes snake to his wife. ‘A large amount of money. She said I could meet the child.’
Diana flinches again.
‘And I wanted to,’ he says. ‘I wanted to. In case it was my only chance.’ As he looks at Diana, his expression is full of pain. ‘I met her, the girl. Spoke to her. I barely talked to Nicole.’
‘Did Nicole say anything about her plans?’
‘No, not a word. I didn’t ask any questions, not even about Alex’s suicide. I just wanted to make sure the girl was okay.’
A truck shudders by in the street, causing a minor tremor.
‘What happens now?’ Diana asks quietly.
‘Well—’
Oli’s phone starts ringing, and they all jump.
‘Good morning, Ms Groves. I hope I didn’t wake you.’ Bowman’s voice is jarring in the sunny room.
‘No. I’m up.’ Oli glances at the McCraes, who look like they’ve been pulled from the wreckage of a car.
‘Good. This is just a courtesy call based on our conversation last night. I thought you’d be interested to know that the child you saw last night is not Louise Carter, so I would strongly advise your organisation against making any references to this theory.’
Bowman adds, ‘That’s not all. She’s not Nicole Horrowitz’s daughter either.’
Oli gets into the Toyota and calls Bowman back. ‘How do you know it’s not her child?’
‘Nicole has a condition that prevents her from having children. She had surgery as a very young child. Only her parents knew. Apparently, it caused her a great amount of distress as a teenager.’
Oli stares up at the McCraes’ house. After Bowman called she made hurried excuses and left. Now she feels like her head is about to explode. ‘But Nicole promised the McCraes.’
‘What’s that?’ Bowman says.
She closes her eyes and tries to focus. ‘Are you sure Nicole can’t have children?’
‘Based on what I’ve been told, I’m one hundred per cent certain.’
‘And you’re sure the kid isn’t Louise Carter?’ Oli almost screams.
‘Yes. The forensics don’t match. The investigation into Louise Carter’s disappearance remains open.’
&n
bsp; Oli’s voice cracks as she says, ‘Well, who is the child, then?’
‘We don’t know. Perhaps she belongs to a friend or an ex-partner. But we may never know.’
She kicks her leg out in frustration. ‘This is bullshit.’
Bowman sighs. ‘Ms Groves, I suggest you update your story and do your radio show, then get some rest. Take some time off. I’m still happy to provide a quote. Finding this child is still good work—you should be proud.’
A strange energy takes over Oli, a desperate feeling. Like everything is slipping away. ‘What did you mean the other night when you asked me about Isabelle? About Dean telling me what she’d decided. Was it about not wanting to be a detective anymore?’
Bowman sounds confused. ‘No, as far as I know she was still passionate about being a detective. But I do know she was finding other aspects of her life challenging.’
Oli swallows. ‘Do you think Bouris acted alone?’
‘I have never had a prouder moment than when we put that piece of shit away,’ Bowman says with frightening intensity.
‘Did he follow her from the house that morning?’
‘We think he was following her for days.’
‘But—’
‘He is a monster. Pure evil.’
‘Do you think it’s possible he was tipped off? I’ve been wondering—’
‘Get some sleep, Ms Groves.’ Bowman hangs up.
Oli throws the phone in the console and starts the car. Nicole’s manipulation is starting to become clear. She fooled everyone. She connects to Bluetooth and calls Dawn.
‘I need to change the piece I sent you,’ she says in greeting. ‘Apparently it’s not the Carter girl. But I’ve found out more about Nicole that I think is worth digging into. I think she might be involved in some kind of fraud—’
‘We’re not running them, Oli.’ Dawn interrupts. She is in the office; phones bleat in the background, and a familiar voice is reading a news report. ‘We’re not running either of them.’
‘What?’ Oli asks, accelerating into the morning traffic.
‘Oli, I appreciate that you’ve been working around the clock, but this isn’t right. You need to slow down.’