FOUND
the case is cold
all hope is lost
…then the future catches the past
MELISSA POULIOT
#1 BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE DETECTIVE RHIANNON MCVEE SERIES
Copyright © 2017 Melissa Pouliot
www.melissapouliot.com
www.facebook.com/melissapouliot
Published by mp|media solutions (MP Media (Vic) Pty Ltd) in Australia, July 22, 2017
ISBN: 978-0-9872355-6-5
Also published via Create Space, an Amazon company, July 22, 2017
ISBN-13: 978-1548035204
ISBN-10: 1548035203
Also published as a Kindle ebook, July 22, 2017
ASIN: B072N2CT3Q
Cover design (2017) by Brent Occleshaw, Gooseboy Productions
Author photo by Dee Gee’s Photography
Book formatting by Jason Anderson, Polgarus Studio
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission from the author and publisher.
This storyline and characters are fictional and not intended to represent any individual or circumstance unless otherwise stated.
BOOKS BY MELISSA POULIOT
FICTION
Write About Me
FIND ME, Det Rhiannon McVee Crime Novel #1
When You Find Me, Det Rhiannon McVee Crime Novel #2
You’ll Never Find Me, Det Rhiannon McVee Crime Novel #3
FOUND
NON-FICTION
Yanga Track…Wanjab, Gadjin and Murnong
For Life…How We Got The Water Back
Project Hindmarsh, 10 Years and Beyond
A Pillar In Our Community, Celebrating 25 Years of Wimmera Uniting Care
For Ursula
After nearly thirty years, FOUND
And for Beck, who has redefined the phrase ‘never give up’
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1 - Bones in the bush - 1993
CHAPTER 2 - Right on time - 2015
CHAPTER 3 - Bad mix - 1988
CHAPTER 4 - Swings and roundabouts - 2015
CHAPTER 5 - Normal
CHAPTER 6 - Angelsea
CHAPTER 7 - Bessie
CHAPTER 8 - Back on the train
CHAPTER 9 - Annabelle - 1988
CHAPTER 10 - Missing - 2015
CHAPTER 11 - Yowies - 1988
CHAPTER 12 - I choose you - 2015
CHAPTER 13 - The party - 1988
CHAPTER 14 - Where’s Annabelle?
CHAPTER 15 - Find Me
CHAPTER 16 - Butterfly
CHAPTER 17 - Fresh eyes - 2015
CHAPTER 18 - We shouldn’t have left her - 1988
CHAPTER 19 - Finding Lee - 2015
CHAPTER 20 - Taking another look - 2016
CHAPTER 21 - The Bone Room
CHAPTER 22 - Leaving The Cross - December 1988
CHAPTER 23 - Dragging up the past - 2016
CHAPTER 24 - Stuck in the eighties - 2016
CHAPTER 25 - No trace
CHAPTER 26 - Falling apart
CHAPTER 27 - Missing again
CHAPTER 28 - Campsite clean
CHAPTER 29 - Still missing
CHAPTER 30 - Missing person
CHAPTER 31 - Return to The Cross
CHAPTER 32 - Bessie’s rescue plan
CHAPTER 33 - Heebie Jeebies
CHAPTER 34 - Carl - 1988
CHAPTER 35 - Coming home
CHAPTER 36 - Shirley bird
CHAPTER 37 - Haze
CHAPTER 38 - Going, going
CHAPTER 39 - Gone
CHAPTER 40 - Strawberry Shortcake
CHAPTER 41 - Yellow
CHAPTER 42 - Interview Two
CHAPTER 43 - Delivering the Diary
CHAPTER 44 - Baby come home
CHAPTER 45 - X marks the spot
CHAPTER 46 - The map
CHAPTER 47 - Map matching
CHAPTER 48 - X marks the spot #2
CHAPTER 49 - Bad news
CHAPTER 50 - Someone, somewhere, knows something - August 2016
CHAPTER 51 - Crimestoppers
CHAPTER 52 - Big John and Lins
CHAPTER 53 - Delayed farewell
CHAPTER 54 - Guilt
CHAPTER 55 - Dead end
CHAPTER 56 - Write About Me
CHAPTER 57 - Murder night - November 21, 1988
CHAPTER 58 - The final chapter - 1988
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
BOOK CLUB DISCUSSION NOTES
Yowie
The first reported sighting of a yowie came one year after the British colonisation of Australia. Australian Aborigines often warned British settlers to beware of huge, ape-like creatures that lurked in the rugged mountains and deep forests of the island continent. Their people, they said, had been encountering the hairy horrors since time immemorial. They knew them by many names, including doolagarl, thoolagarl, jurrawarra and tjangara. Soon the colonists, too, began to experience hair-raising encounters with the elusive, foul-smelling giants, which they referred to as “Australian apes”, “yahoos” or “youries”. Today, they are generally referred to as yowies. In 1789, a man was captured at Botany Bay and shipped back to England for study. According to the report, A description of a wonderful large wild man, or monstrous giant, brought from Botany Bay, the man was nearly three metres tall and had huge teeth, thick eyebrows and a body covered with strong black hair.** The list of modern-day eyewitnesses includes zoologists, rangers, surveyors and members of the elite Special Air Service Regiment.
*yowiefile.com
**Aliens, Ghosts and Vanishings, Strange and Possibly True Australian Stories by Stella Tarakson
As a child, Annabelle’s aunt used to warn her whenever she headed out into the bush to keep her eye out for yowies. She told her stories of sightings that terrified Annabelle in real life, and in her dreams.
CHAPTER 1
Bones in the bush
1993
Lee’s hands shook as she picked up the phone.
‘Steph, it’s Lee.’
‘Of course it’s Lee,’ Steph said, then asked. ‘You don’t think I know your voice my lovely friend after listening to it for, um, how long is it, forty years?’
Lee didn’t laugh, or sigh, or anything. Steph felt a prickle of alarm.
‘Is everything okay? Gordon? The animals?’
‘Yes, yes, Gordon is fine. Animals are all fine. Did you watch the news tonight?’
‘No, should I have?’
‘They found some bones. In the bush.’ The words came out in a rush, stumbling over each other.
Steph was confused, but only briefly.
‘Annnabelle.’ The name issued out of Steph like a shot of cold air. ‘Are they Annabelle’s?’
Lee burst into tears. She’d been holding them in since she’d watched the ABC evening news. She hadn’t really been concentrating when the story first came on. Gordon was away for work, so she wasn’t following a set routine. She hadn’t had dinner because she’d been sidetracked with her crochet and only really had the television on to help fill the silence.
‘It’s that serial killer again,’ she said through her tears. ‘More bones, in the same place as the others. Belanglo.’
‘I’ll be right over,’ Steph said. ‘See you in halfa.’ She hung up and swung into action. Her daughter Sara, Annabelle’s best friend, was home for a school friend’s engagement party, so first stop was her room.
‘Hey, Sairs, got any plans tonight?’
Sara looked up from the book she was reading, leaning over her bed at full stretch to turn down the volum
e on her cassette player.
‘Not really. Why, what’s on?’
‘Want to come out to Lee’s with me?’
Something in her Mum’s tone scared Sara. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she said, snapping her book shut and getting off the bed to move closer.
‘No, not that. But Lee’s in a fret. The news tonight, more bones in the forest.’
‘Annabelle,’ Sara said quietly.
‘Maybe,’ Steph wrapped her arms around her daughter. ‘Best place for us is with Lee, on the couch, with chocolate.’
‘And cups of tea,’ Sara tried not to go into a panic. They’d been here before. Waiting, watching, wondering. Watching every news bulletin for that glimpse of information that might connect bones to Annabelle. Daring the phone to ring, wondering how long it would take for detectives Andy Cassettari and Rhiannon McVee, and the seemingly slow-turning wheels of the police system, to match bones in the forest with Annabelle’s.
Within half an hour Lee and Steph were on the couch, Sara in the kitchen making tea and preparing a platter of sweet treats.
‘I hate this Steph.’
‘Me too, Lee. The not knowing, it’s so hard.’
‘Should I call Rhiannon and ask?’ Lee posed this question every time.
She and Steph went around in circles, like they had many times before, and eventually talked themselves out of it.
‘You’re right,’ Lee said, after they’d been over it from all directions. ‘They’ll have it in hand. Of course they’ll be checking against her file. Rhiannon will let us know.’
Sara handed them their steaming cups of tea, slipping easily into her role of chief carer. She never contributed much to the conversation, letting their words wash over her while she did everything she could to cheer up Lee and look after her every need. Sara kept her thoughts for her diary, the one she was planning to give Annabelle when she came home.
Sara stubbornly refused to entertain the possibility these bones could be Annabelle’s. She refused to let conversations like these filter through to her inner belief that Annabelle was still alive and well. That didn’t mean she didn’t feel paralysed right now. With so many bones being discovered, and all this talk of a serial killer on the loose, her hope of seeing her best friend again was at risk of shattering, piece by tiny piece.
Sara handed around a plate of chocolate on chocolate. Cadbury chocolate they’d brought with them and a selection from Lee’s bulging cake and biscuit tins – chocolate cake with lemon icing, chocolate chip biscuits and raspberry jam slice with a chocolate base.
‘It’s the wrong forest,’ Sara said quietly.
Steph talked over the top of her. ‘Just because the last place they saw her was the Blue Mountains, doesn’t mean she wasn’t hitchhiking and picked up by this crazy, then taken to Belanglo,’ she said firmly, believing it was only a matter of time before they discovered then matched Annabelle’s bones.
Sara didn’t say anything more and wandered aimlessly back to the kitchen. She was here but not right in amongst things. She was on the periphery, and felt like a child overhearing adult conversations. She wasn’t a child though, she was a muddled up young woman in her early twenties whose memories of Annabelle were fading, no matter how desperately she clung to them.
When she moved away from home, made new friends who knew nothing of her missing school friend, and started to build her own future, she felt herself moving further and further away from Annabelle. It was only when she was home that Annabelle crowded her thoughts.
Steph and Lee both believed Annabelle was gone, but cloaking that belief like a heavy winter blanket was more ambiguity than they could process. This ambiguity is what drove Lee’s need to sit glued to the television for any snippet of information that might provide a hint or a clue which could solve Annabelle’s case. Her need to listen for the telephone in case it rang. Her need to stand at the front gate with her ears strained for the sound of an approaching vehicle, because perhaps it would be Rhiannon and Andy delivering the news she dreaded, yet welcomed at the same time.
To have something to hold on to and focus on, like these bone discoveries, made them feel like things were moving forward. It sparked fresh hope that they’d soon have answers, and they would find a place to park their grief.
Sara polished every kitchen bench surface and the timber table top until they sparkled under the kitchen’s fluorescent overhead light. Lee and Steph were deep in conversation in the adjoining lounge, still going over every possible scenario and circumstance, and Sara didn’t have the strength to join them. She wandered aimlessly around the house, finding herself standing at the closed door into Annabelle’s room. She turned the old-fashioned door handle gently, and it clicked softly as she closed the door behind her. She leaned against the door, the pitch black darkness of the small room making her feel unsure if her eyes were closed or open. She breathed in deeply for any smells that would give her a sense of Annabelle. There were none.
As her eyes adjusted she could make out the shape of the bed, side table and a doll’s house she knew was filled with matchbox cars. She flicked on the bedside lamp and a soft dull light turned the shapes into things she recognised. The room was exactly as Annabelle had left it. Lee hadn’t added anything, or taken anything away. Sara wished she’d pack it all into boxes then put them somewhere safe. That way, when Annabelle came home, she would be able to unpack her old life into a new one, and decide for herself which childhood memories she wanted to keep, and which were no longer relevant.
Every time Sara came in here, she felt less and less connected with Annabelle. Tonight she felt no connection at all. With a lump in her throat and lead in her heart, she lay down on Annabelle’s bed and cried herself to sleep.
CHAPTER 2
Right on time
2015
‘Yoohoo,’ Christine called as she unlocked the front door, depositing her keys on the quaint white hall table she’d picked up at a market last year and refurbished to match her obsession with French chic. It was a long way from the dark and dirty streets of Kings Cross where she’d spent her youth, and helped erase the memories of those times. It also helped her pretend she was someone who sipped her English Breakfast tea from delicate china cups, ate sweet almond croissants and walked cobbled lanes through Paris. As opposed to someone who gave blowjobs and quick fucks in the back seats of cars, dark and putrid cobbled laneways behind rubbish skips, or in seedy rooms in a grungy motel room.
Danny walked out of the kitchen wearing her black apron with Paris, London, New York and Brunswick written in white on the front, his long unruly surfer-blond hair tied back in a messy ponytail.
‘Babe, You’re Right on Time,’ he replied in sing song, trotting out his standard reply when she walked in off the train at the same time from Monday to Friday. Christine didn’t have the heart to tell him the song was Ride on Time.
His piercing blue eyes went right to her heart. He wrapped his strong, safe, kind arms around her and escaping wisps from his ponytail brushed her cheeks tenderly as he kissed her soft, lovely lips.
Danny, a writer of screenplays for television and film, worked from home or cafes around Brunswick. He was always here to greet Christine at the end of her long days creating elaborate and unique engagement rings for the cashed up high-flying executives and celebrities in the inner city jewellery store where she worked.
‘How was your day?’ Danny walked back to the kitchen with its di pesco marble bench tops and French white cabinets to tend to his pumpkin risotto. She followed, unbuttoning her coat and blouse as she went, depositing her things in their designated places along the way. Shoes in the shoe rack underneath the hall table, coat on the hanger behind the first bedroom door on the right. An uncluttered life where she could keep track of everything.
‘Fabulous, wonderful,’ she replied. ‘I made one young man very happy today and tonight he’ll be making his future bride feel like the luckiest girl in the world. I have the best job, I truly do. You? Did you get those
scripts for Offspring finished?’
‘No, we’re behind schedule again. Can’t seem to get into the right flow. The viewers are absolutely hooked but I feel like we’re going too off track, you know? I wonder if this is how the writers of Seinfeld felt when they got into those last few series. They could’ve pulled out a bit earlier I reckon, the jokes were getting old, the actors tired. But when the people are demanding more, it’s hard to make that final decision to call it quits.’
Christine, back in the kitchen by now, had her shirt unbuttoned all the way. Danny was so intent on his risotto he didn’t realise she was standing behind him in a state of near undress.
‘Good to see you,’ she murmured, moving her hands underneath the front of his apron and shirt, seeking the soft skin of his torso. He wasn’t as toned and buff as he used to be, too much sitting around on his computer and not enough time in the surf or gym, but she didn’t care. She loved him any which way. She breathed soft kisses behind his ear and undid the apron at the back. Switching the gas off the stove he turned around to kiss her.
‘Good to see you too, beautiful lady.’ She melted every time he said those words. Beautiful lady. How did she get so lucky?
Within seconds Danny had deftly unhooked her bra and pulled her shirt off. She lifted the apron over his head, followed closely by his T-shirt and they grabbed at each other while joined at the hips and lips. He lifted her so her legs were around his waist and carried her to their bedroom, whispering love words the whole time. It had been this way since the day he first laid eyes on Christine, at a cafe in Little Bourke Street. She also intrigued him, and finding out she had a dark past made her all the more fascinating.
Ten minutes later, lying naked with their arms and legs entangled, and thinking they should probably get up to eat the risotto Danny had so lovingly prepared, Christine felt her body go cold. She knew who he was. The guy on the train, who sat opposite her this afternoon, with dark hair and a frightful scar down one cheek which was barely visible under his thick stubble. She should have figured it out the instant she saw his footwear. He always wore desert boots. She didn’t know they made them anymore but then remembered – everything old was new again. The eighties were back, stonewash, desert boots and all.
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