Louise and Rafe were on foot patrol.
‘There is a comment in Rhiannon’s notes that’s been bugging me,’ Louise said, as they walked along Darlinghurst Road, eyes peeled for trouble. She didn’t wait for Rafe to reply.
‘It says ‘campsite clean’. When you look at the photos, it bugs me to see such a clean area after the wild party Ant and Christine described. If you think about it, with the crowd that was at this party, carefree, wild, out of control – it doesn’t make sense that they would clean up after themselves. I would’ve thought the site would have been littered with bottles, cans, drug paraphernalia – it just doesn’t seem right. I don’t know if Rhiannon found it strange as well.’
Rafe was thoughtful.
‘Do you think Ant took them to the wrong place?’ Louise continued.
‘There you go Louise, another one of those million dollar questions,’ Rafe said, eventually.
Back then, they didn’t have council workers or park workers coming by regularly to collect rubbish. Had this come up in their investigations, their questions? He was sure it would have. So, what had Ant said which satisfied this extremely thorough and highly decorated detective?
CHAPTER 29
Still missing
Ant called Christine’s phone for the hundredth time. When it went to her voicemail, again, he hung up and threw the phone across the room.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!!’
He’d been to hell and back since she walked out his door three days ago, kissing him tenderly and telling him she was going to sort out her life then be back in his arms before he had time to miss her.
He didn’t worry for the first day – he was trying to be noble and give her space to speak to Danny before packing up her things. But when he hadn’t heard from her after twenty-four hours, he started to get nervous. He’d expected, at minimum, a text, or a message on Messenger. After another twelve hours he started pursuing her in earnest, but her phone was going straight to her recorded message. She hadn’t viewed her messages on Messenger since she’d said goodbye. She hadn’t checked in anywhere. Nobody at her work would tell him where she was, only that she wasn’t at work. His only choice, after three days, was to go to her house.
He stalked across the room and picked up his phone from the floor, shoving it angrily into the inside front pocket of his black leather jacket. He pulled his door shut with a slam, gunned his Harley with an angry roar, and rode as fast as he could to Christine’s quiet, leafy, suburban street.
…
Christine’s behaviour since she’d seen Ant on the train had been wildly out of character from the woman Danny knew. His Christine insisted on routines, had methodical, predictable nature and was extremely reliable. He tried to immerse himself in work but that didn’t help. He tried to call on friends, to see if they were up for a drink at the pub, but nobody was available. He cleaned the house, until everything sparkled and not a thing was out of place. She’d be so pleased when she got home.
When he ran out of things to do, he went to her drawers, then checked where she stored her long-trip suitcase. Everything was in its place. He went to her computer, but it was password protected. He tried random passwords; prostitute88, missingbrown, annabellebrown, antdrugs, prostitutecross, kingscross88.
‘Fuck!’ Danny swore out loud. This was madness. His madness matched her madness. He stormed out of the house and headed down to the local, even though it was the middle of the day. Fuck her, and her complicated past. Fuck her, and her adorable eyes. Fuck her, and her incredible sense of humour. Fuck her, and her caring, nurturing nature. Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her! Pushing aside all thoughts of kindness towards the woman he’d spent the past ten years of his life adoring, he walked faster towards the beer tap that would help him drown his sorrows, at least for the moment.
…
Ant parked a block away. He took off his leather jacket and stuffed it into a locked box on the back of his bike, not wanting the yuppies and stay-at-home mums to think a bikie gang member was invading their neighbourhood.
After skulking the perimeter and establishing that nobody was home, he entered via the laundry door; it was a cinch to break into. Bloody yuppies, he thought to himself, thinking they’re safe here in the leafy, rich streets of Brunswick surrounded by families and other yuppies.
‘Wooaaa,’ he whistled, when he entered the main living area. ‘Fancy!’
He wandered around slowly, acquainting himself with the life Christine had created for herself. The more time he spent in her understated luxury, the less sure of their future he became. Why would she leave all this for him? His bachelor’s pad was only a small step up from his dirty apartment in Kings Cross. He was happiest in his back garage, covered in grease and tinkering with his motorbike, and the creature comforts of home were of no consequence. This was another gripe his long line of exes pointed out, as they slammed his shitty front door in his face.
He didn’t hear the click of the front door lock until it was too late. He was in the bedroom, looking through her underwear drawer, marvelling at the collection of vibrators she had tucked behind her sensible black knickers and sports bras. Looking around quickly, he wedged himself behind the door. He could hear every movement Danny made around the house and had no choice but to stay there, still and silent.
CHAPTER 30
Missing person
The beers gave Danny the buzz he needed, but when he walked back in the front door, he felt flat again. He flicked on the television and dozed in the ads. Once the effect of the alcohol wore off, the panic returned. What could he do? Bessie! Of course! He found her number on a piece of paper on the desk, and dialled with shaking hands.
‘Hello?’ She answered on the first ring.
‘Hello, is this Bessie?’
‘Yeah, who’s asking?’
‘It’s Danny, Christine’s partner, Danny.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Bessie could tell immediately, by the tone in his voice, something was amiss. ‘Is Christine okay?’
Danny’s heart sank with the realisation that Bessie was none the wiser to Christine’s whereabouts.
‘That’s what I was hoping you could tell me. She’s disappeared. Been gone three days. Won’t return my calls, text messages. It’s like she’s dropped off the face of the earth.’
‘Bloody hell! Where do you think she’s gone?’
‘I don’t know! I’ve got no idea. I’ve called her work, they haven’t seen her either. She sent a text message to her boss to say she was sick. She hasn’t got many friends, but those who I know of haven’t heard from or seen her for ages. She’s been so focused on this Annabelle thing, spending all her spare time on the Internet researching, then putting together lists upon lists. I don’t know where she’s progressed to though, everything just looks like dates, times, people to talk to, a few missing persons’ groups, random names and phone numbers that mean nothing to me.’
‘What about her Facebook?’ As she spoke Bessie logged into her Facebook, checking if there were any missed messages in Messenger, check-ins or posts from the past few days.
‘No, nothing. Which is unusual for her.’ Danny’s voice was squeaky and shaky at the same time.
‘Sure is, she’s always liking or commenting or sharing something,’ Bessie scrolled down Christine’s timeline, looking for clues.
‘Is she on any other social media?’ Bessie asked.
‘Yep, everything. I’ve checked them all. There’s nothing. Complete silence.’
They talked in circles for the next ten minutes. Bessie asked if he had reported her missing to the police.
No.
Why not?
Because she told me not to.
Bessie asked if he thought Christine was suicidal.
No.
Are you sure?
Yes, I’m sure.
How can you be sure?
Because she told me she wasn’t.
The more questions Bessie asked the more paranoid Danny became. He was start
ing to feel like an idiot for not going to the police on day one.
Bessie was feeling more and more frustrated at what she perceived as a lack of action from Danny. She didn’t know if Christine would be hiding her chance meeting with Ant or not, but she decided now was not the time to beat around the bush.
‘Did you know she’d met up with Ant, her friend from The Cross?’
Danny groaned. ‘Yes, I did know about Ant. I do know about Ant.’
‘Have you contacted him?’ Bessie had a feeling in her bones that Ant was somehow wrapped up in this.
‘As far as I know, it’s been weeks since she’s seen him. They met in a café then, she asked me if I wanted to come too, but I had work to do. That night she didn’t say much about it, just that they’d only had a quick coffee, then Ant had to go back to work. She said he wasn’t going to be much help to her in finding Annabelle, that he’d already told her and the police everything he knew about the party. Said it was nice to see him but he reminded her too much of her painful past, the past she’d moved on from. Said they parted on good terms, and that they both agreed not to keep in touch.’
Bessie listened carefully as Danny over-explained Christine and Ant’s meeting. She knew how hard Christine had fallen for Ant all those years ago. How much it broke Christine’s heart to walk away from him, when she left in pursuit of her new life and new career. Call it women’s intuition, but Bessie doubted very much Christine and Ant had shared a quick coffee, then walked away.
‘I’m going to be honest with you Danny, because that’s just the way I am. But I reckon if you find Ant, you’ll find Christine. I’ll bet my bottom dollar the two of them have hooked up and disappeared somewhere together. As much as it hurts me to say it to you, find Ant and you’ll find Christine.’
Danny started to cry like a baby. Bessie was verbalising the wild thoughts which had been marching around in his head for the past three days, thoughts he didn’t want to say, or hear, out loud.
‘Stop your crying, nothing you can do to change the way people behave,” she said, not unkindly. ‘I know my Christine, and people don’t change. She fell hook, line and sinker for Ant all those years ago, and when she came to see me after spotting him on the train, she was rattled. She might have moved on and created this whole new life, but there’s no walking away from the love of your life when he comes around a second time.’
Danny blew his nose noisily and pulled himself together.
‘Will you help me, Bessie? Will you help me find him, before we go to the police?’
‘Of course. And yes, let’s keep the police out of it for now. No point dragging all this personal stuff into the public arena if it’s just a simple case of her running off with an old flame and not being brave enough to face up to you for what she’s done.’
…
Ant was finding it nearly impossible to breathe, listening to one side of Danny’s conversation. Sweat started to run down his forehead when he realised Danny was pouring his heart out to the old pimp Ant hadn’t seen in decades. Bessie. His ears felt like someone was holding a hot flame on them when Danny mentioned his name, and he listened to the lies Christine had weaved about the day they met in the cafe.
From his hiding place he surveyed the bedroom, with its comfortable furnishings and framed photographs of the happy couple. Their smiling faces taunted him and he felt his legs start to shake. Then came the sudden realisation that Christine was missing. With bolt of new energy, Ant remembered she had promised herself to him. Christine was his now, they belonged together. And he was going to be the one to find her.
CHAPTER 31
Return to The Cross
With only a few stops to fuel his bike and himself, Ant arrived at the traffic lights at the top of Darlinghurst Road within ten hours of sneaking out of Christine and Danny’s place. He looked right to the familiar Coke sign, but it wasn’t in its usual place. Puzzled, he missed the change to green until someone rudely honked from behind. He purred slowly down the street. How could things looked the same yet look so different?
He rode to the bottom of the road, turned left into Macleay Street, then did a blockie to get him back to where he started. He rode around like this for the next half an hour, wondering if fate would intervene and put Christine right in his path.
Realising he was wasting his time, he parked his bike in the underground carpark behind Kings Cross Police Station. Highway robbery, twenty five dollars a day, but at least it was safe and nobody would pinch it.
He checked into the cheapest accommodation he could find; it was in Orwell Street, a good walking distance to everywhere he planned to visit. He felt like a gawking tourist. Sure, it was the same streets, but trendy cafes with tiny wooden stools had replaced grungy bars. Dirty back laneways were now paved, and filled with art installations, hanging from above as well as on brick walls.
He instantly felt better, more at home, when he noticed one of the locals with her dirty greasy hair, twenty layers of clothing and incoherent mutterings, wandering the street. What was her name? He laughed, she still had the plastic bird, duct-taped to her shoulder. That’s right, Shirley. Fond of flashing her bits to anyone silly enough to look her way.
Ah, The Cross! Dress me up, give me some spit and polish, add fancy signage and new pavers, but I’ll still always be Kings Cross.
CHAPTER 32
Bessie’s rescue plan
Danny was visibly taken aback when he opened the front door to a large frame which blocked all the daylight behind her.
‘G’day love, good to meet you at last,’ Bessie smiled, while Danny spluttered for words.
It hadn’t taken long for the initial hope Danny had felt, after he first spoke to Bessie, to dissipate. Bessie hadn’t made much headway either, which was why she was here. She had another plan, but she wanted to speak to Danny in person.
At the kitchen bench, over fancy coffee in fancy cups, she pulled two stools together – one butt cheek on each. He stood opposite, sipping his coffee and trying not to stare at her oversized breasts which rested comfortably on the bench, hardly contained by the flowing floral moo moo she was wearing.
Once she was settled in, she got straight to the point. ‘We’re better off splitting up.’
Danny didn’t reply, his eyes were glazed and he looked like he was about to collapse. Bessie realised he was in shock, and, seeing her for the first time probably wasn’t helping.
‘You look like you need to eat something,’ she tut tutted. ‘You’re way too skinny.’
‘I haven’t eaten much lately, can’t seem to get interested in food,’ Danny yawned, and felt a wave of giddiness.
She pushed herself out of her two stools and took charge.
‘Let me look in your fridge and panty, I’ll whip something up for you in no time. I’m a pretty decent cook, but I s’pose Christine’s told you that.’
Danny sat down wearily and let Bessie take over. He was exhausted from the worry, spiralling deeper and deeper into a paranoid depression with every day Christine refused to answer his calls and messages. Now that Bessie was here, it all caught up with him.
He and Christine kept a well-stocked pantry and freezer, and it didn’t take Bessie long to find frozen bacon, an onion, a sweet potato and a tin of evaporated milk. She oohed and aahed when she discovered unopened fresh fettuccini and cloves of garlic in the fridge. A few fresh chives and parsley from the little herb pots lining the window sill finished the creamy bacon and roasted sweet potato pasta nicely. Nothing had ever tasted better to Danny than the big steaming bowl of comfort food Bessie laid out grandly in front of him. After he ate, he curled up on the couch, and within three minutes, he was snoring.
While Danny slept, Bessie poked around the house, not snooping exactly, just familiarising herself with the new Christine. Christine had always liked nice things, and while living with Bessie she would often splash out on a fancy French pottery piece or ornament. Bessie recognised a few of her old things and admired how well she had
matched the old with the new.
When Danny resurfaced, Bessie was in the comfortable chair in the office, reading the latest Louise Penny Inspector Ganache mystery on her iPad.
‘Sorry ‘bout that,’ he yawned.
‘You must’ve needed it. You been on your own since she disappeared, eh?’
‘Yeah, pretty much.’
‘Haven’t got family or anyone to come round?’
‘Nah, not really. Christine’s my family. We keep to ourselves. I’ve got a few work mates but we write television scripts, so Christine doesn’t like to get too close to outsiders. We don’t want to give anyone any fodder for the next blockbuster television series,’ he laughed wryly.
Bessie joined in, she really liked Christine’s fella, and couldn’t imagine why Christine would choose Ant over Danny. ‘Things are a bit of a mess, aren’t they?’ she said.
‘Sure are. I dunno what to do. I’m wondering now if I should’ve gone to the police. I feel like I’ve done the wrong thing by not reporting it.’
‘Nah, fuck the police. They’d be no use.’
‘Really? I don’t know. Maybe they’d have better luck than us.’
‘Yeah well, I’ve got a theory, that’s why I’m here. I reckon I know where she is, and we don’t want to be dragging the police into it.’
Danny became alert. ‘You’ve heard from her?’
‘No, I haven’t. But I know where I’m going to look for her. I’m going back to The Cross. She’s there, I’m sure of it. She’s fallen off the rails, for one reason or another, all this stuff with Annabelle I reckon. And she’s gone on a bender. I know my Christine, and when she falls off the rails, she falls off good.’
‘But, she’s changed,’ Danny protested.
‘One thing you learn when you’ve been around as long as I have Danny, people don’t change. Haven’t you heard the saying ‘a leopard never changes its spots’?’
Danny started to cry. Bessie hated nothing more than watching a man cry. ‘Come on now, stop your fussing. Pull yourself together.’
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