by M. D. Archer
“Roman? What’s up?”
“Sophie with you?”
“No, I’m with Tim. Listen, Roman, I don’t want to get in the middle—”
“Did she lose her wallet recently?”
“Did you find it?”
“Has Sophie been in touch with her half-sister Hannah recently?”
“Yeah, actually. She showed up at our office the other day. They’ve been talking.”
“She looks a lot like Sophie, right? Enough to be mistaken for her?”
“Oh, for sure. The first time I saw Hannah I thought she was Sophie. I mean, Sophie if she’d visited a MAC store or been blasted with a makeup gun.”
Roman clenched his jaw. “Dammit,” he said again.
“What’s going on?”
“When you see Sophie, tell her I’m sorry, okay? And get her to call me. Immediately.”
Roman disconnected.
It had to have been Hannah. All of it. She had somehow gotten hold of Sophie’s wallet and was using her ID. Sophie said she was worried about Hannah’s motives, and now it looked as if she’d been right.
He tried Sophie’s number once again. “I’m sorry, Sophie,” he said into the phone. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have accused you. I now know it wasn’t you. Can you call me back? I need to explain.”
PAIGE PUT HER PHONE down on the table next to her plate.
“Can you put that away please?” Tim said. “This is supposed to be date night.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “Date night? What are we, an old married couple?”
“Is that so bad?”
“It just sounded... lame.” Paige pushed green beans around her plate. “How’s work?”
“Work is fine. I saw the little one earlier today. I think she smiled at me.”
“The little what?”
Tim made an irritated noise. “You can’t keep avoiding this Paige.”
“I’m not.” Paige stood up. “Listen, Roman was asking about Sophie and I need to find out what’s going on. She’s having a rough time. I need to check on her.”
This was true, Paige reassured herself.
“We haven’t finished dinner.”
“Mostly, we have.” Paige grabbed a few beans and shoved them into her mouth. “I’ll do the dishes when I get back. I’ll only be an hour. Bye!”
As she grabbed her bag and headed out to the car, she texted Sophie.
Quick drink at your local? She messaged, wondering what she would do with herself if Sophie said no. It was only eight o’clock, but she knew that Sophie sometimes got into her pyjamas straight after work. If Sophie wasn’t up for it, Paige mused, maybe she could check in on Leo. They’d barely spoken in days, and even if clinical memory problems were not in her area, she could still probably help with his Jane Doe at least a little bit.
But as it turned out Sophie was keen to meet up.
Yes please, she replied. Victoria is stomping around slamming doors. She’s driving me nuts.
ROMAN LET HIMSELF INTO his home, dread already churning in his stomach. He looked around the door to the living room and saw Anya sitting on the couch with a magazine. The TV flickered silently in the background and soft jazz was playing from the stereo. The scene looked so peaceful and idyllic that Roman almost had second thoughts about the conversation he knew they had to have.
Until she looked up, saw him, and scowled. “You’re home.”
It was almost an accusation. Roman sighed.
“Not out with your stalker tonight?”
“She’s not... That wasn’t Sophie.”
“Yes it was.”
“She has a sister who looks a lot like her. She’s been causing trouble.”
Anya frowned. “You sound ridiculous.” Suddenly she tossed her head. “You know what? I don’t even care. I literally do not care what you’ve been doing.”
Roman eyed her for a moment. “That’s becoming pretty obvious.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“It’s also obvious that this isn’t working. We both know it. Why do we keep trying? Why are we pretending.”
Anya’s lip lifted into a sneer. “Good question. I’ve wasted so much time with you. Why am I still here? Why am I still festering with you in this crappy house?”
PAIGE AND SOPHIE WERE halfway through their respective glasses of Shiraz and Malbec. They’d already chatted about the progress of the case—agreeing that it felt as if they were getting closer, even if they didn’t have a clear suspect.
After Paige had said her piece about Tim and his growing obsession with babies, she took a sip of wine and eyed Sophie. “Can we talk about Roman now? He called for you.”
“He’s left a couple of messages.”
“I think he found your wallet.”
“Oh, right.” Sophie looked uncertain. “That’s not what I...” She shrugged. “It’s doesn’t matter. I guess I’ll message him when I get home. Thanks for buying this, by the way,” she added glumly, gesturing at her glass.
“What’s wrong?”
“Things are a mess.”
“But you don’t want to talk about it?”
“Wade and I have pretty much broken up.” She lifted her shoulders. “I mean, can you even call it breaking up when we never really got a chance to start?”
“When did that happen?”
“The night of your barbeque. I didn’t go home... I went to Wade’s.”
“Drunken visit, huh? But not the good kind, I take it?”
“Not at all.”
Paige nodded, waiting.
“I broke up with him then fell asleep on his couch.”
“But are you sure it’s over? If you were drunk you could say you didn’t mean it. He might let it go. He’s pretty keen on you.”
“I told him the reason I couldn’t be with him.”
“The real reason? You mean—”
“Roman. Yes. I told him about Roman. And he wasn’t surprised. It was a very clear and very effective message.” Sophie shook her head.
“On a scale of 1-10, how awkward was it the next morning?”
“A million.” Sophie palmed her hands on her forehead. “Ugh, I’m such a mess right now. Damn you, Roman,” she whispered.
“But you’re not going to call him back?”
“I will. Just not right now. I can’t.”
“Fair enough.” Paige gestured at Sophie’s now empty glass. “Another one or...”
“Ready for home, I think,” Sophie said. “But I feel a bit better after talking. To get out of the house and away from Victoria and her mood was good. Thanks.”
“What’s Victoria’s problem?”
“I have no clue. To do with some guy, I think. I sort of want to know, but also, not at all.”
They stood up.
“I’ll give you a lift home,” Paige said.
“But—”
“I know it’s nearby, but it’s dark.”
“Okay.”
Less than a minute later Paige pulled up outside Sophie’s place.
“I’m sure it will all work out,” Paige said cheerfully.
“I hope so,” Sophie said, getting out. “See you tomorrow. Meet at the office and figure out what’s next?”
“Yep.”
Paige tooted once, then accelerated to the end of the street.
Sophie waved goodbye and turned to walk up the footpath, but before she even got to the gate, a hand clamped over her mouth and everything went black.
20
Paige unlocked the door to the S & S Investigations office.
She’d beaten Sophie to work which was a little unusual, but that had happened on Monday as well, so maybe Sophie had a new schedule. Or maybe she’d stayed up late festering about Roman. Paige shrugged to herself and went into the conference room to update the whiteboard.
She immersed herself happily in the task, then made a list of all the avenues they needed to follow up on. She then reviewed the footage taken from Cecilia’s office, including the att
ic, and concluded, with disappointment, that it was dead-end. Finally, she updated the invoice for Cecilia.
At around eleven thirty, Paige abruptly stopped what she was doing.
Where on earth was Sophie?
She picked up the phone and called her. It went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Soph, where are you? Do you have an appointment or something? We were supposed to figure out the locked room case,” Paige said. “Call me back. Or better, just get here.”
She disconnected, found Annie’s phone number from the case file, and picked up the landline. She listened as the phone rang and rang. She was about to hang up, when suddenly a breathless sounding voice answered.
“Yes?”
“Annie Singh?”
An excited squeak came through the line. “Yes. It’s me, I’m here.”
“It’s Dr Garnet from S & S Investigations.”
There was a pause. “Oh. You.”
Paige frowned. “We need to talk to you again. When are you available?”
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“If you refuse to meet us, we’ll think you’re guilty.”
“Oh, fine, I suppose. Tomorrow after lunch? About two o’clock? Same place?”
“Fine.”
Paige hung up and looked at her mobile phone display. Still no messages. She opened email. There was nothing in their calendar and there wasn’t an email from Sophie explaining where she was. She scanned her inbox. There was a prompt reminding her that she was also missing a reply from Professor Richard Thinton. She’d messaged him more than a month ago and it was about time she got a response. Yes, they’d had the Christmas break in the meantime and yes, her original email had been tersely worded to the point of rudeness, but it still required an answer.
Professor Richard Thinton, Paige’s doctoral supervisor for nearly four uneventful years, had since become something akin to a nemesis of both Paige and Sophie’s. He seemed personally affronted by the idea that they might manage to break away from academia and start an investigations agency. His initial scorn and derision had turned into something more malicious when Sophie had pulled out of an opportunity to work on a research project with him.
But despite the acrimony, he and Paige were not able to completely sever their ties just yet because they’d been asked to write an editorial on the findings from the last study of her PhD, for which there was a fair amount of scholarly buzz; even some interest from beyond the world of academia. And Paige was determined to receive the accolades she was due.
Paige wrote an even terser follow-up email to Richard, sent it with a triumphant click, then returned to her inbox. There was nothing from Sophie but there was, unexpectedly, an email from Zelda Ko.
That SOS agency has a real website, her message read.
How did Zelda know about the SOS Agency situation, Paige wondered briefly before reading the rest of the email.
You might want to reconsider an interview with me. You need the publicity. Check it out. Zelda had included a link.
“No way,” Paige said as she clicked.
Thank you for visiting the team at the SOS Agency, the homepage said. If you need help, we’re your guys. We take your problems seriously and we get results. Our full website is coming soon but email us in the meantime and we’ll contact you ASAP.
Unbelievable.
Paige stood up to pace the office. What should she do? She tried Sophie again, but nothing. “Where are you?” she cried at her phone. She returned to her desk and composed an email to SOS Agency.
This is Dr Garnet. I’d like to talk to the owners. Please email or call me as soon as you get this.
Almost immediately an automatic reply popped up.
Thank you for contacting SOS Agency. We have received your message and we’ll be in touch ASAP. We’re here to Sort Out Solutions to your problems.
“Damn you and your catchy tagline,” Paige hissed at the computer. She fumed for a moment, then abruptly deflated.
Where on earth was Sophie?
LEO OPENED THE DOOR to his small studio.
“Zelda?”
“Do you know about the SOS agency?” she said, eyeing him speculatively.
“The what?”
She shook her head. “That’s not why I’m here.” She marched past him to take a seat at the little two-seater table. “I was at Jane’s this morning.”
“You were?” Leo frowned. “I’m going there later today. Why did you go?”
She shrugged. “My visit paid off.”
Leo went still. “You know who she is?”
“She remembered something.”
He swallowed and nodded. Was he ready for this? And why was he so nervous?
“The name Helen,” Zelda said. “She thought it could be her mother’s name. Or maybe the woman who took her from the hospital. It seemed to be triggered by talking about the car crash and the memory of sitting in the hospital waiting room. We ran a search on an Australian search engine using the name Helen and other keywords like accident, and missing woman, that kind of thing. It took a while, but I got there in the end.”
Leo’s heart was racing. “You found her?”
Zelda opened her laptop and turned it to face Leo. On the screen was an article about a missing woman.
“Here’s the story,” she said. “Her name is Emily Ryerson. About a month ago, she was in an accident at her home in Adelaide. She fell through a glass table and cut her arms and legs badly. She lost a lot of blood and it was pretty touch and go for a while. She nearly didn’t make it. Once she’d recovered, her mother Helen had some sort of crisis of conscience and told Emily the truth: that she wasn’t her biological mother. After she told her the whole story, Emily freaked out. She packed a bag and disappeared. She didn’t tell anyone where she was going. They knew her departure was intentional, but since she didn’t answer anyone’s calls or messages, her family and friends got worried.”
“So she is the Lost Girl of 1997. Katrina Bellevue,” Leo said, nodding slowly. “And this Helen woman stole her from the hospital, smuggled her back to Australia and raised her as her own daughter, never telling her the truth. Or even that she was adopted or something?”
“Pretty much.”
“Wow. Why did she run to New Zealand when she found out?”
“Cheap flight maybe? Wanted to get out of the country?”
“Or because she’d just found out she was actually born here?” Leo said. “Do you know what happened when she got here? The bruise on her head?”
“No, but her memories have been coming back, so I think we’ll know what happened sooner rather than later.” Zelda raised her eyes to meet Leo’s gaze. “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“It was her fiancée who reported her missing.”
“Her what?” Leo said, turning white. “She’s engaged?” he whispered, something crashing from his chest through to his stomach. “Of course she is,” he mumbled.
SOPHIE STILL HADN’T replied to Paige’s calls, texts, or emails, and the little pickings of worry were growing into a rather substantial weight of unease.
When her phone rang, she snatched it up.
But it was only Cecilia.
“Dr Garnet of S & S Investigations,” she said.
“Oh for goodness sake, you know it’s me, you saw it on your display,” Cecilia huffed.
“Yes, hello, Cecilia,” Paige said smoothly.
“You won’t believe what’s happened.”
Paige sat up straighter. “What?”
“The Bonds of Death is being picked up by a major publishing house,” she said bitterly. “And there’s talk of a movie.”
“Oh.”
“If you don’t figure this out before they do that, I have no hope.”
“Surely contract negotiations will take days, if not weeks.”
“I don’t care. You have 48-hours.”
“What?” Paige hissed.
“You haven’t figured out who stole it, and to be hones
t, I don’t think you will. So I’m giving you a deadline.”
“Oh, come on, that’s—”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Or what?”
“Or you’re fired.”
21
When Victoria got home after work she found Paige on the doorstep, tapping her foot, her arms folded across her chest. Victoria’s eyes widened in panic. “Listen, I can explain—”
“I don’t have time for whatever self-involved story you want to blather on about, Victoria. Where’s Sophie?” Paige demanded.
Before Victoria could reply, the front door opened and Myra appeared. She had headphones dangling around her neck and she looked bewildered.
“Someone was home this whole time?” Paige said. “I’ve been waiting here for like half an hour. And I knocked four times.”
“I...” Myra gestured to her headphones. “Sorry.”
“Sophie isn’t home, is she?”
Myra shook her head. “And she didn’t come home last night, either,” she said anxiously, biting her lower lip.
Something surged in Paige’s stomach. “And you didn’t wonder where she was?”
“I thought she must be with that guy Wade.”
“I dropped her home at about nine thirty last night and there’s no way she went to Wade’s after that. They’re over.” Paige pushed past Victoria then Myra, to enter the house. “Are you sure she’s not here?” She entered Sophie’s bedroom. It looked completely normal, and Paige couldn’t tell whether her bed had been slept in or not. The covers were rumpled, but Paige was pretty sure Sophie didn’t make her bed every morning.
“Just to be crystal clear,” Paige said, coming to stand in front of Myra and Victoria. “Neither of you have heard from her or seen her, since yesterday?”
Myra shook her head.
“Why are you acting like it’s such a big deal,” Victoria said, her voice challenging.
“It is a big deal. If you didn’t have your head so firmly up your own arse all the time, you’d realise. And if you had any friends, you’d understand why I’m worried.”