‘What do you want?’ Ant growled, eager to get back to Christine.
‘I need your help,’ Carl pleaded.
‘What? More drugs? I haven’t got any on me right now, doing other things. More important things.’
‘No, not more drugs, I need to keep my mind clear. I need you to drive me back out to the party site, there’s something important I left out there.’
‘You’re joking aren’t you? Why would I want to drive you all the way to the Blue Mountains to pick up something you left behind? What is it? A jacket, a pair of shoes? I’d prefer to buy you a new pair than drive you out to get your old ones.’
‘It’s important, really important.’
For the next five minutes, Carl begged. ‘I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t desperate. I have to get back out there.’
‘Why, you killed someone or something?’ Ant asked flippantly.
‘Yes, that’s exactly what I did.’
Ant shook his head, wondering if he’d heard correctly.
‘You messing with me?’
‘No, I’m fucking not. I killed someone, and I lost one of my sneakers out there.’
Ant looked down at Carl’s feet. He was only wearing one sneaker.
‘I don’t want to know,’ he hissed into Carl’s ear. ‘Turn around right now and don’t tell me another fucking thing. I don’t want to know, you hear me? You’re not my problem. Get away from me and don’t ever come near me again!’
Carl was whimpering and shaking. ‘But you gotta help me. She’s your girl’s best friend. Annabelle, it’s Annabelle.’
Ant turned on his heel and ran. He didn’t know what direction he needed to go to get away from what he didn’t want to know. He wanted to unhear it. When he thought he was well away, he stopped, doubled over with a stitch. Before long he realised he still had company. Carl’s foot was bloodied, scratched and torn from not having a sneaker to protect it while he’d run after Ant in hot pursuit.
‘You gotta take me out there, help me cover it up. Get my sneaker, make sure there’s no evidence left out there. I’m desperate, man, I don’t know what else to do. I didn’t mean to kill her, I dunno what came over me.’
Ant was torn. What should he do? What was the best choice? Help Carl – and spare his newfound relationship with Christine? Or not help him, and risk him getting caught, then somehow have Carl drag Ant into his web of murder and deceit? He had no doubt Carl would drag him into this, now that he knew what he knew. He was in a lose-lose situation. Fuck it.
‘Rightio, let’s go. But you breathe a word of this to anyone who knows Christine, or her whore master, Bessie, and you’ll be the one who’s dead and buried in the bush. Got it?’
‘Got it.’ Carl hadn’t stopped sniveling the whole time. The relief at having Ant’s help made him snivel even more.
‘Pull yourself together you idiot, and stop drawing attention to us with your stupid bawling, you fuckhead.’
Ant strode purposefully back to where he had illegally parked his car, slipping the meter man a small drug fee to stop him leaving a ticket. Within ten minutes they were headed out of the city.
Ant’s knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. He focused on the road while Carl tried to explain what happened.
‘Don’t speak to me,’ Ant ordered. ‘I don’t want to hear another fucking word.’
The two didn’t speak for the next six hours, working in complete silence to cover up a murder that should never have happened. A random, senseless act that would destroy and torture the family and friends of Annabelle Brown to the end of their days.
CHAPTER 58
The final chapter
1988
A dark and sinister feeling blanketed him. He wished he didn’t have to carry this terrible secret around. Earlier this morning, just as the sun was about to come up, he had woken in a cold sweat, thinking his door lock was rattling. That it was Carl, or the police. The guilt ate away at his insides, the guilt of lying to Christine and Bessie.
He could have stopped Christine, the love of his life, from moving away, if only he’d told her the truth. The confusion of Annabelle’s disappearance was what drove her away, the not knowing, the loss without closure. He could have prevented all of this… if only he had told her the truth.
It seemed that every time he turned around, Carl was at his elbow. He would just appear, with evil in his eyes. Ant was in danger; he was putting his own life at risk if he didn’t do something.
It would be easy to make Carl disappear. Nobody would miss him. He had no friends, and from what Ant could work out, no family who wanted to know him. It would be like he never existed at all. He had nothing to contribute to society, in fact, society would be a whole lot better without him. He had a life of crime, death and despair to offer, that was all.
Ant would spare the world from so many bad things by acting now. And he was damned if he was going to spend the rest of his days worrying that Carl would come up behind him, in the dark of night, knife in hand, ready to slit his throat. He couldn’t live another day having to look over his shoulder.
He also saw it as a gift to Christine. A gift she would never know she’d been given, but a gift nonetheless. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, that’s what Bessie would say.
He caught the whiff of a foul breath and his skin crawled. Usually the smell would make him nervous, but something had changed since he had made his decision, and confidence replaced nerves.
‘What’s up, Doc?’
‘Nothing,’ Ant replied, curtly.
‘They still looking for her?’
‘I dunno, s’pose,’ Ant replied.
‘Seen you with that girl, Christine, hangin’ off her. Seen you and her get into the cop car, too.’
‘Leave her out of it, I stuck with the plan, she’s got nothing to do with this. She’s gone anyway, left The Cross.’
‘Yeah? Why’s that?’
‘Dunno.’
‘How do I know you’re not going to dob me in?’ Carl asked.
As they walked, Ant noticed it had become awfully dark and foreboding. There were no cars, no loiterers, no street kids. Just him, and Carl.
Ant stopped walking and turned to face Carl, up close, trying to gauge his exact mood. Carl reached into his jacket and Ant grabbed his hand. Was he reaching for a gun? A knife?
‘Relax mate, it’s just a book.’ He pulled out a pink book, it looked like a little girl’s notebook.
‘What is that?’
‘It’s a diary.’
‘What are you carrying a diary around for? And why is it pink?’
‘It’s not my diary, it’s someone else’s. I just carry it around with me.’
‘You’re one fucked up dude, you know that, don’t you?’
‘I found it in a dark alley, ages ago,’ Carl continued, ignoring Ant’s insult.
‘Show us.’
‘Nah,’ Carl packed it away, and Ant noticed his hands were shaking.
‘You right, got the shakes?’
‘Sure ‘ave. Wond’ring if, ah, you could give me an advance?’
‘What, another one?’
‘A bit low on cash right now, might have to rob meself a convenience store,’ he grinned at his own joke.
Ant paused, frowned and humphed. ‘Righto, but it’s your last advance. Sick of giving out freebies. If you don’t start paying me back soon I’m gunna send me lynch mob out for ya.’ Ant guffawed at his own joke and handed Carl a packet of pills he’d retrieved from the innermost pocket inside his jacket. The packet he’d been saving for an emergency situation.
‘Thanks, mate.’ Carl’s hands shook as he opened it, before popping three or four pills at once.
‘You’re not my mate,’ Ant mumbled, as he watched the pills start to take effect.
Before long, Carl collapsed to the ground. Ant stood expressionless, while he watched him die a horrible, drug death. When he was sure he was dead, he pulled him off the laneway and moved him
behind a skip bin overflowing with stinking rubbish. He toyed with the idea of leaving him there for the coppers to discover.
But then he figured that if he was going to get rid of him, he was going to get rid of him for good. Leave no trace. He rifled around in the pockets of Carl’s jeans for anything valuable, then moved onto his jacket. He wasn’t expecting to find money, but you never knew, maybe he had a whole roll of it stashed away.
He pulled out the pink diary, and stuffed it into his inside coat pocket without opening it. He’d have a look later. He continued searching through the jacket, but didn’t find anything of interest.
He looked down towards Carl’s feet. His jeans had ridden up slightly, and he noticed something sticking out of the top of his old sock. A knife. He carefully retrieved it, knowing this was the knife. Although clean now, this was the knife that had killed Annabelle. Should he take it? Or leave it where it was? He put it back where he found it, then walked to the nearest phone box and made a call.
Shoulders hunched, head down, he walked home feeling lighter than he had in weeks, although a tiny little thought was still niggling for his attention. What about Annabelle? Annoyed, he pushed the thought away. He’d done all he could. There was nothing else he could do. This was the only way it could play out. He’d squared the ledger, and that was the end of the story.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
As a storyteller you can create any ending you choose for your readers. As a keen reader myself, there is something extremely satisfying about reading the final pages of a book and having all those loose ends tied up.
In my Detective Rhiannon McVee crime series I leave each book with a frustrating, infuriating cliffhanger. My reasons for doing this are connected with the frustrations I have lived with since my cousin Ursula Barwick disappeared in 1987, and as a way to express the ambiguities that families and friends of missing people live with every day.
But in my debut fiction novel Write About Me in 2013, and now my fifth fiction crime novel FOUND, I have chosen to tie up those loose ends for you. Because wouldn’t it be wonderful if life was like that? To have answers to all your questions, and all your mysteries solved.
More than 38,000 people are reported missing in Australia every year. That’s around 100 a day. While most people are found within a short period of time, there remain more than 2000 long term missing persons; those who have been missing for more than three months.
Going missing is not a crime
For every missing person’s case reported, at least 12 others are affected
20,000 young Australians are reported missing each year
You do not have to wait 24 hours before reporting someone missing
People don’t ‘choose’ to go missing, they often feel they have no other options
People suffering from a mental illness are at a high risk of becoming a missing person
For more information about missing people in Australia, or if you are the family member or friend of a missing person and are needing support, please visit:
National Missing Persons Coordination Centre www.missingpersons.gov.au
The Families and Friends of Missing Persons Unit, Department of Justice, NSW www.missingpersons.justice.nsw.gov.au
Missing Persons Advocacy Network www.mpan.com.au
Australian Missing Persons Register www.australianmissingpersonsregister.com
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Through the public conversations I have shared since I published Write About Me in 2013, I am proud to have shown that my beautiful, fun-loving, outgoing, fabulously witty, adventurous and brave cousin Ursula Barwick is not just another one-dimensional face on a missing persons’ poster. Ursula is a loving, and much loved, member of my family, and she will always be remembered.
Unlike my fictional teenager Annabelle Brown, Ursula was not murdered, and after imagining the worst since she disappeared in October 1987, that is of great comfort. What we know now is that Ursula changed her name when she arrived in Sydney, and her new friends knew her as Jessica Pearce. Jessica Pearce died in a car accident on October 27, 1987 on the Hume Highway near Tarcutta. She was buried in an unmarked grave in the Catholic section of Emu Plains Cemetery.
It has taken nearly thirty years, and two determined detectives, Kurt Hayward and Amy Scott, to join the dots and discover this truth. Kurt and Amy have given us an end point to nearly thirty years of ambiguous grief. That’s nearly thirty years of us not knowing for certain if Ursula was alive, or dead.
I am eternally grateful to the amazing swell of community support during my own personal quest to discover the truth about Ursula, which started in earnest after I published Write About Me. I initially set out to correct three details on her official missing persons profile which were wrong – her eye colour, hair colour and the day she went missing. At the time, I said to the Australian Federal Police it wouldn’t make any difference to being able to solve her case, but that it would make a big difference to her family. I believed because her case was so old, these details were inconsequential. How wrong I was. Ursula’s legacy is that it is never too late to find your missing person.
I could not have gotten through the ups and downs of the past four years without my husband Cam and our children Jake, Tom and Laura by my side. They remind me every day that the most important things in life are family, love and laughter.
I owe my bravery (and stubbornness) to my Mum, Dianne Panov, and Dad, John Hosking, who have been unwavering in their support for my obsessive pursuit of the truth. My baby brother Luke, who has always been wise beyond his years, has given me essential perspective when needed.
A huge thank you to Ursula’s school friends, in particular, Melissa Donnelly, Pauline Mizzi and Heidi Williams. Also to Ursula’s family, extended family and friends who came to Picnic for Missing events in Quirindi in 2014 and Fitzroy Gardens, Kings Cross in 2015.
As mentioned previously, I am forever indebted to Detective Sergeant Kurt Hayward and Detective Senior Constable Amy Scott from Kings Cross Detectives, and everyone who worked on Strike Force Hemingway. When they started taking a fresh look at her case in 2014, they went above and beyond for Ursula, and for her family and her friends.
I would also like to thank the Australian Federal Police National Missing Persons Coordination Centre, especially Rebecca Kotz, Marina Simoncini, Emma Whalen, Rebecca Brown and the dedicated, hard-working team behind the scenes. Another big thank you needs to go to Liz Davies from The Families and Friends of Missing Persons Unit, who has been a wonderful support and reminds me regularly to take care of myself.
Others who have been an important part of my journey are Loren O’Keeffe from the Missing Persons Advocacy Network, Nicole Morris from the Australian Missing Persons Register and Mark Jones, the brother of Tony Jones who has been missing since 1982.
I am also extremely grateful for the support from Child-Safe International founding chairman and retired UK Detective Chief Superintendent, Chris Gould and his wife Helen. Also for the support from Bruce and Denise Morcombe and the beautiful, kind people at the Daniel Morcombe Foundation. I feel privileged to be involved in the foundation’s positive action for child safety as a Day for Daniel Ambassador.
I would also like to thank Mary-Ann ‘MA’ Harris and the wonderful media people who have taken the time to write Ursula’s story, and who have played such an important role in raising awareness for not only her case, but for missing people in general.
I have so far written half a million words inspired by Ursula, and my five crime fiction novels bring me immense joy and pride. The people who have been with me every step of the way, and have suffered through very rough first drafts, are my parents-in-law Ron and Lyn Pouliot, my Mum Dianne Panov, and my dear friends Jamie Klemm, Chantal Scarlett and Sarah Little.
I am also indebted to the international author’s group I have been part of since 2012 at the invitation of my dear friend Christine Kaine – this group also includes Carolyn Jourdan, Adriana Koulias, Deborah Hawkins and Ca
ry Ariel Wulff. Their book publishing knowledge and personal encouragement and support has been invaluable.
While I’m thanking book people, I’d like to acknowledge Australian bestselling author Fleur Ferris for her generosity, and unwavering belief in my writing. Also the lovely Natalie Godward, who takes my book launches to a whole new level by making me feel like a superstar.
There are many more people to thank, but I will need another whole book to name them all. So to my family and extended family, my friends, my readers, my loyal social media followers, my book launch crowds, my ever-growing number of author friends from around the world and every single person who has liked, commented and shared a post about Ursula and my books – thank you, thank you, thank you.
BOOK CLUB DISCUSSION NOTES
Who is your favourite character in this story and why?
Do you feel empathy or frustration with Christine and the choices she makes with her relationships, and life in general?
Ant is an antihero in the novel. As the story reveals itself, do you think Ant is good, evil or somewhere in between?
What do you think of the choices Ant makes right through to the end of the book?
Before you read this, what was your understanding of the impact when someone goes missing? How has this book changed your understanding?
More than 100 people a day go missing in Australia, more than 20,000 of them teenagers like Annabelle. What can we do as a community to help prevent our vulnerable, at risk youth from going missing?
Who would you turn to in the first instance if someone close to you went missing? Your local police, the Australian Federal Police, a missing persons’ organisation like Australian Missing Persons Register or the Missing Persons Advocacy Network, your local newspaper or social media?
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