But even after they’d find the perfect home, she could never make that final step. How could she move away from all the memories of Annabelle? And no matter how far-fetched she knew the notion was, what if Annabelle came home and she wasn’t here? If she did, and there was always that slim possibility, Annabelle wouldn’t know where to find her.
The house still looked very much the same as it did when Rhiannon and Andy used to visit. The kitchen had been modernised; she now had a fancy pants dishwasher, cupboards without handles that opened with a neat press, a large walk-in pantry, and floating floorboards. They had also extended and widened the verandah so it ran generously along the whole southeast side of the house. With comfortable cane lounges and plump oversized cushions, it was the perfect spot to enjoy a morning cuppa, and enjoy endless views of cane fields with mountains shimmering on the horizon.
She’d even renovated Annabelle’s bedroom in 1998, directing all her energy and worry on the ten year anniversary of her disappearance into making it a bedroom for someone in their twenties. She’d consulted with Annabelle’s best friend Sara, and they’d pored over house and garden magazines to find the right look.
They wallpapered one complete wall in yellow and white damask and painted the others plain yellow. They covered a new queen sized bed with a rich cream bedspread, and went to town with cushions of all shapes and sizes, adding a rich aqua blue into the colour mix to cut back on the yellow. They’d framed all their photos of Annabelle in simple white frames, and filled a whole wall with neat rows of memories, in date order. New cream carpet and a glorious cream-coloured art deco chandelier completed the look.
They were so proud of the finished room. It sparkled with hope at a time when their hope was waning. They were preparing for a big homecoming, and thought that if they made her room beautiful and welcoming enough, she would never want to leave again. The room looked tired and dated now, although Sara reassured Lee damask would make a comeback.
Lee couldn’t remember when they started talking about Annabelle in past tense. Or when they accepted she wasn’t coming home. Or when she could get through a whole day without her mind crippling her whenever she remembered Annabelle was gone. More often now, she felt peace in her thoughts of Annabelle. A memory would leave a happy feeling instead of a bitter aftertaste.
But days like this were torturous. Meeting, for the first time, the new investigators who had taken up the mantle of this cold case, thinking they could solve it despite all the resources and energy Rhiannon and Andy had already put in. She appreciated it, of course she did. But it sent her mind into kilter.
She’d told Rhiannon and Andy when they profiled Annabelle for National Missing Persons Week in 2011, using age progression technology, that if all the exposure and attention resulted in no new leads, everyone had to move on. The experience had used up all her energy; the adrenalin and rush of renewed hope, followed by silence and hollow devastation.
She had wanted to close the file and accept Annabelle was gone. Or so she thought. When she got that first phone call from Louise to tell her she was taking a fresh look, the excitement and anticipation inspired a fresh round of hope. Old memories flooded her mind. They came so thick and fast that they got jumbled around, leaving her dazed and confused.
On the phone Louise simply said they wanted to give her an update. Lee asked several questions, but Louise was delicately evasive. Long after she hung up, Lee wished she’d been pushier, more demanding. But that was never her style, she had not been brought up to question authority.
Dogs barking heralded the visitors’ arrival. She wondered if they were anything like Rhiannon and Andy. If they would be as caring, kind and comforting. Although Andy was gruff and frowned a lot, she had liked him instantly. She could see through his tough exterior and it hadn’t taken long for her to discover his penchant for home-cooked food. A tear came to her eye as she remembered he was no longer with them, but before she could finish that thought, the gate rattled and she heard approaching footsteps.
Lee’s immediate impression was that they looked like babies, and she felt like an old woman greeting them. They were stiff and awkward. This was way harder than she thought it would be, and she felt tongue tied and unable to get her thoughts into words, her words into sentences.
Louise had a large black bag with her. Lee found it distracting as she welcomed them into her home. They finished their pleasantries and she seated them at the kitchen table. Lee made their cups of tea and coffee in silence; they’d all run out of small talk.
‘So,’ Lee said awkwardly, as she sat down opposite them. ‘It’s a long way to come, so you must have some news.’
Rafe blushed and burnt his tongue while sipping his coffee. Louise, noticing he was at a loss, took a deep breath and smiled her dazzling smile. Rafe nodded with relief, giving her the okay to take the lead.
‘We do have something, but not really news. Not definite news.’ Louise had practiced the line on the plane, wanting to make sure the first words she spoke were succinct and clear. She didn’t want to start with one of her rambling, long stories.
‘Is it the phone call from that prostitute, Christine?’ Lee’s voice was panicky.
Louise quickly filled Lee in on what they had discovered since Christine had been in touch.
Lee wanted to cry, but talked herself out of it. No point crying over spilt milk, when the milk hasn’t actually spilt yet.
Rafe, who had recovered from his burnt tongue, cleared his throat. ‘But the main reason we have come here is to deliver something we’ve come across, something of Annabelle’s…’ Rafe’s voice trailed away while they watched Louise pull something out of her big, black bag.
Lee didn’t speak as Louise pushed a package wrapped in brown paper across the table. Her hands shook as she worked at the sticky tape and when she saw what was inside she gasped out loud. She instantly recognised the distinctive diary, which had sat on Annabelle’s bedside table when she was a little girl. It had been a birthday gift, Lee couldn’t remember exactly what birthday, and Annabelle used to scribble short stories and draw pictures of fairy gardens onto its pages.
When she was a teenager the diary disappeared. Sometimes Lee would wonder where it had gotten to, but she didn’t give it too much thought. Seeing it now was the strangest feeling, one she couldn’t explain.
Louise and Rafe squirmed awkwardly, feeling like voyeuristic intruders on Lee’s grief. They quietly, carefully pushed their chairs out and walked out to the side verandah. As soon as Louise sank into a comfortable cane chair, an old dog appeared, its nails making a click click click sound on the timber as it wandered over for a pat. In appreciation of her gentle hand on its head, the dog lay across her feet and leaned in, using her legs as a back rest.
‘This is an absolutely stunning place,’ Louise breathed in the fresh country air. ‘One of the most beautiful gardens I’ve ever seen. I love all the old fashioned English garden plants in amongst the tropicals, roses and lavender, just like my Mum and Dad’s garden back home at Kent, near the sea.’
‘Do you miss home?’ Rafe asked.
‘Yes, all the time.’
‘Why did you move to Australia?’
‘For a man, or should I say, boy,’ Louise confessed. ‘I was head over heels. He was from Sydney and I came over to meet his family. He proposed on New Year’s Eve, it was so romantic. The fireworks were dancing across the sky…’ Rafe listened while she wandered along memory lane.
‘I ignored my parents’ pleas not to rush in.’ She stopped, wondering if she was revealing too much of herself. She patted the dog again, sneaking a quick glance at Rafe to see if he’d dropped off to sleep. He was listening intently, so she pushed on.
‘But it didn’t work out. When I realised he had another girlfriend the whole time we were together, even after we were married, I was so heartbroken and ashamed. I couldn’t go back home, and admit to my parents I’d been the fool they accused me of being when I told them I was getting married.’
She forced brightness into her voice. ‘After the obligatory period of wallowing in my own self-pity I decided to see it as a blessing and pursued my dream of being a policewoman. Just like Sergeant Barbara Heavers in the Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley series.’
‘Geez, I hope you’re not as big a train wreck as her,’ Rafe said, a thin layer of sarcasm hiding his discomfort at Louise confiding so much.
‘And I hope you’re not as far up yourself as him,’ Louise was quick in her biting reply, embarrassed at being teased after revealing so much personal information.
‘I’m just joshing with you,’ Rafe said gently. ‘You’d better give me the number of your ex so I can call him to say thank you for sending such a promising young policewoman our way.’
Louise blushed. They sat in silence, waiting for sounds from inside that would indicate Lee was ready for them to return and answer the questions they knew she would have.
…
Eventually Lee joined them. Her eyes were puffy and her hair out of place, but she’d applied fresh lipstick.
‘Would you like to stay for lunch?’ she asked with false cheerfulness.
‘Ah,’ Rafe looked at his watch, then felt ashamed. ‘Of course, we’d love to. As long as it’s no trouble.’
‘No trouble, I’ve always got a full fridge!’
Lee pulled out a half ham leg. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t Christmas, she always had a leg of ham in the fridge. She deftly sliced generous pieces and placed them neatly onto a large platter. A loaf of freshly baked bread was sitting on a large wooden board underneath a tea towel. She sliced into it with an electric knife, the pieces thicker and rougher than usual as she tried to control her shaking hand. A jar of home-made green pickles, hot English mustard, freshly churned butter, tomato, lettuce, cheese and stuffed boiled eggs all appeared. By the time Rafe and Louise returned from washing their hands, the table was laden with a feast for kings and queens. Later, back at the station, Rafe and Louise bragged to everyone about them being the best ham sandwiches and stuffed eggs they’d ever eaten.
After clearing the lunch plates, Lee boiled the kettle again and the plates of biscuits returned.
‘I’m going to roll out the door if you keep bringing all this beautiful food out,’ Louise said as she took her third cranberry and white chocolate biscuit.
Lee laughed. ‘I’ve got a bit of a reputation around the traps, nobody ever leaves this place hungry.’
Eventually the subject got back to where it had begun.
‘What next?’ Lee asked.
‘As Louise said, we’re looking into a few things,’ Rafe replied. ‘We’ve gone through the diary and we don’t think there’s anything in there relevant to the investigation. It does give us a really good insight into Annabelle’s thinking at the time, and shows that she was running away from something that even she didn’t seem to understand…’
Lee flushed, before cutting him off. ‘So where exactly did you get the diary from? Who had it all this time? Christine? Bessie?’
‘No, neither,’ Rafe reassured her. ‘It came to us in the mail and we’ve spoken to both Christine and Bessie. They had no idea of its existence.’
‘So who has held onto it all this time and posted it randomly to you? What does this mean?’
‘We’re not sure,’ Rafe said. ‘We’re still looking into it. There are so many questions we all have, but we are making some headway and following several lines of enquiry. We will keep you informed as best we can.’
Louise continued his sentence, her words wrapped in kindness. ‘We won’t be able to tell you everything that’s in the investigation, I hope you understand.’
To their surprise, Lee was snappy with her response. ‘Yes, I understand. I know by now that you can only tell me what you can tell me.’
They sat in silence while the sting of Lee’s words buzzed around them.
After a long time, Lee asked the question she’d asked Rhiannon and Andy many times before, wanting them to give her a definitive answer even though she knew they couldn’t.
‘Do you think she is still alive?’
Rafe spoke carefully. ‘At the moment our belief is still what Rhiannon and Andy believed. That Annabelle has died, potentially as a result of foul play.’
‘There’s no hope that she’s still alive, in your opinion?’
‘We’re hopeful that we’re going to find out the truth, there is obviously someone out there who knows something. We just need to figure out exactly who that is, then we can figure out what it is they know,’ Louise said. ‘We can’t discount that she might be alive, but it does seem unlikely.’
Louise mulled over the word hope in her mind. What does hope really mean? What does it mean when you say there’s always hope? In cases like this that have gone on for so long, how can anyone still have hope?
The three of them looked into the dregs of their cups, harbouring their private thoughts. Hoping it wouldn’t be too long before they had more answers than questions, instead of the other way around.
CHAPTER 44
Baby come home
With Gordon away for work, the house was lonely. Tonight, lonelier than usual. Lee read the diary over and over, then again. Its words stung and wounded her. But they also comforted, as she gained the best understanding of Annabelle she’d ever had. It was a gift, to know her daughter so intimately. Eventually she felt tired enough that she thought she would fall straight to sleep. Instead, she lay in the dark, wetness on her pillow, longing and yearning for her baby to come home.
CHAPTER 45
X marks the spot
He pulled up beside a post box on a street corner and slipped it through the slot before he could change his mind. It still wouldn’t give them all the pieces of the puzzle but it would be good enough. If they could join the dots, they’d find Annabelle’s bones somewhere near where X marked the spot. With a lump in his throat, and a glisten in his eye, he spoke out loud. The words reverberated inside his helmet. ‘Goodbye Christine, goodbye Annabelle. I hope we all meet somewhere down the road.’
CHAPTER 46
The map
Louise burst through his door, in a whirlwind.
‘Sir, sir, something has come in the mail!’
He carefully closed the folder he was reading, the photocopied pages from Annabelle’s diary, shaking off his irritation.
‘Yes?’ No matter how many times he tried to tell her to knock, then enter, she insisted on combining the knock and enter as one fast action without any space in between them.
Admonished by his look, she breathed in and tried to slow herself down. She had a really good excuse this time. Once he opened the envelope he’d surely forgive her.
‘You need to see this!’
She placed it in front of him. A white envelope addressed to her. No sender’s address, no other markings apart from the stamp.
He opened it carefully after putting on the gloves Louise handed to him.
‘It’s exactly the same writing as the person who sent the diary. As soon as I saw it I put the gloves on. It will be covered in fingerprints. They’ll be on both, I know they’re going to be…’
Rafe looked up at her with a silencing frown. She pursed her lips and counted in her head, even though she had much more to say.
He carefully pulled out a piece of A4 paper and looked at the hand-drawn map with Annabelle’s name at the top. He studied it carefully for a long time.
Louise couldn’t help her foot from tapping and her legs from jiggling. He gave her another silencing look.
He wanted complete silence, while he tried to figure out the location indicated on the map.
‘I know where it is!’ Louise burst out. ‘It’s where we’re going to find Annabelle’s bones. Or a clue, or something. It’s where she’s buried. I know it, I just know it!’
Rafe looked at her through piercing eyes. ‘You’re sure are you? And why are you sure? Have you checked anything out, have you cross-matched, have
you done anything apart from look at this map and make your own deductions based on…what you keep talking about…your instinct?’
Louise felt hurt; indignation followed.
‘Yes, it is instinct. And I must say, Sir, instinct has served me quite well so far in moving this case forward.’
She noticed what she thought was an attempt to stop a smile, and she relaxed.
‘This is a campground, and I believe it’s the campground where the party was. I’ve looked at the file and the party location is different. My theory is that Ant took Rhiannon and Andy to the wrong campground. I don’t know why, I don’t know how. I don’t know if it was a simple oversight by a drug-addled brain or if he deliberately lied to the police. I don’t know if he killed her, but that seems unlikely, because Christine swears she was with him and, that when they left, Annabelle was alive and well. I don’t know if he was covering up an accident, whether she might have accidentally overdosed perhaps. Yes, that could be an option! And, for whatever reason, he thought it was better to hide the body rather than call it into the police. Maybe it was crook drugs he supplied, yes, that could be a theory.’
Louise was going in so many different directions her head started to spin. ‘Ant doesn’t seem like a bad person, so if he did cover up something, I’m sure he had a good reason.’
Rafe stopped her.
‘Just because someone seems like a good person, doesn’t mean that they are.’
‘What if he witnessed a murder, and it was somebody he cared about, and he didn’t want to get in trouble? It could have been Christine. We didn’t even consider her!’
Rafe didn’t reply. It was plausible. Everything was plausible. But what was the motive? There seemed no clear reason for Christine to kill Annabelle.
‘It is worth considering. You need to follow all possibilities,’ he said. His tone changed. ‘There’s something I haven’t had a chance to tell you. We’re forming a taskforce, I’ll be leading it. This case needs more resources, and finally the powers that be agree with me. Taskforce Adams.’
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