To the Sea

  ‘There is no phase where Eva Kennett’s story, whatever exactly it is, seriously contributes to this investigation.’ Narelle stood her ground with her hands on her hips. ‘I can’t believe you think we can brainstorm that angle.’

  ‘Well,’ replied Paul, still looking relaxed, ‘if we’re half decent cops, we should be able to brainstorm anything. Let’s try and see where it gets us. You staying?’

  ‘Oh, I’m staying for this,’ said Narelle.

  He stood up and walked over to the whiteboard. He nudged Narelle towards her chair.

  ‘What have we got?’ And he went over it. ‘No body. No evidence of violence. No sighting of Zoe in the water. A missing person presumed drowned by some members of her family, presumed at sea by others.’

  ‘I still don’t know why we’re even taking the crazy story into account,’ said Narelle. ‘If we heard that from druggies or bogans, we wouldn’t even bother taking notes.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Tony, getting involved. ‘But they’re not. By police standards, they’re reliable witnesses.’

  ‘But they didn’t witness anything.’

  ‘Very rarely is a missing person, other than sometimes a child, observed in the process of going missing,’ said Tony. ‘This is all pretty standard. Different recollections, different views, different explanations.’

  ‘OK,’ said Narelle, ‘but how did she go missing? That’s the big question.’

  ‘I can’t believe you just said that,’ said Paul, shaking his head at Narelle. ‘Have I taught you nothing?’

  Paul was right. Cops only exist to answer one question. Not how, but who. Find who did it and lock them up.

  ‘Is there a “who”?’ Paul said.

  ‘Do we think a stranger has abducted and killed her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Runaway?’

  They had dismissed that option on day one.

  ‘Do we believe Zoe was murdered by someone in her own family?’

  ‘The family genuinely don’t seem to know anything and I just can’t see any one of them harming Zoe,’ said Narelle. ‘I know that there can be violence or sexual abuse in any family but I just can’t feel anything like that here with any of them. Even Armitage.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Tony, ‘and Charlie Morgan told me that Zoe was a virgin the first time he had sex with her earlier this year. He may not know much about such things but he knew that.’

  ‘Just for the record, even though I think the whole family is batshit crazy, I’m with you two. I don’t think they’ve harmed Zoe or driven her away in the usual ways families do,’ said Paul. ‘So we have no evidence at all of foul play on land.’

  He went on.

  ‘Do we believe she went snorkelling in Driving Sound and has been dragged out to sea?’

  Two nos.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘No evidence,’ said Narelle, ‘and Bill Watson says it would have been impossible given the conditions on the day.’

  ‘So, we can be pretty certain that those family members who offered that explanation were incorrect?’

  Narelle and Tony kept slowly nodding.

  ‘But,’ offered Paul tentatively, ‘we’ve heard from all members of her family that Zoe is an exceptional swimmer. Her brother-in-law, Max, said he’s even medically tested her after a long swim and was amazed at her body’s response. And Mrs Kennett tells us that Zoe can survive in the water in ways other people can’t.’

  Narelle looked like she was ready to jump in with a million objections.

  ‘Hang on, hang on,’ said Paul, holding up his hand traffic cop style.

  ‘The mother, at least, believes it and the father also seems accepting. We don’t know if Zoe believes it but we do know that she’s been told this since she was a baby. It’s not unreasonable to assume that it’s lodged in her psyche somewhere.’

  ‘We dismiss the story because…?’ he paused. ‘Now, DS Clarke.’

  ‘Because there’s no evidence to allow that possibility.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘There is absolutely no evidence to suggest that Zoe Kennett can survive in the ocean differently from any other human being. Really.’

  ‘OK,’ said Paul. ‘Let’s see if that’s true. How many unrecovered bodies from coastal drownings there are each year in Tassie?’

  ‘God, I don’t know,’ said Narelle.

  ‘Well, lucky for you, DS Clarke, I do,’ said Paul. ‘One last year, zero the year before and zero the year before that. Overall, we’re talking about one every five years on average. And they’re just the ones we know went into the water.’

  Tony was impressed with the homework Paul had obviously been doing.

  ‘We all think she went into the water because of all the land options we’ve ruled out. Yes?’ Paul looked pumped.

  Tony and Narelle both nodded.

  ‘So, if we’re saying that Zoe Kennett is a coastal drowning and after five days her body has not been found, that’s an extremely rare event. And that’s because the experts know where to look and almost always find what they expect to find where they expect to find it.’

  ‘And,’ continued Paul, ‘the conditions of Zoe’s disappearance make it even rarer. Wrong age group. Wrong gender. Wrong socio-economic status. Wrong skill level. Wrong location. Wrong conditions. Wrong everything. But let’s keep going.’

  He was pacing up and down in front of the whiteboard.

  ‘Bodies mostly disappear to sea following boating accidents because the person missing was in a boat a long way from shore when they went into the water. Not technically a coastal drowning. But how did Zoe get so far out from shore that her body could be dragged twenty-plus kilometres into Storm Bay by the current and then out to the Southern Ocean? The experts tell us she couldn’t swim far enough from shore for that to happen. And we’re pretty confident she wasn’t in a boat.’

  ‘Can I hit him now, boss?’ asked Narelle.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘The boss interviews Zoe Kennett’s boyfriend. From all accounts, an honest and reliable boy. He tells the boss that he saw Zoe dive naked from a cliff that we now know is thirty-four metres high, then swim at least two kilometres against an incoming tide in rough seas in a time frame that he can’t explain. And then she comes on shore uninjured. Did you believe young Charlie’s story when he told it to you, boss?’

  ‘Yes. I did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He described every aspect of it precisely, especially Zoe’s swim. His description of where she went was traceable on a chart. And Charlie’s no sailor or surfer. He doesn’t know enough to fake the details he gave me. And he doesn’t know this coastline at all. He was also embarrassed to tell me the story because he didn’t dive too. He was too afraid. Seventeen-year-old boys don’t tell stories like that unless they have to. And he was honest about a lot of other things like drug use, sex, underage drinking.’

  ‘Well, if the diving story is true, we can all see why he would remember it so accurately,’ said Paul. ‘So, in a police interview an interviewee gives a statement that you believe. His statement lays out an act that we all accept is either impossible or at the very least, absolutely incredible.’

  ‘I had a chat to the coroner about Charlie’s statement,’ said Tony, ‘and he also said it would be extremely unlikely that a naked girl could dive thirty-plus metres and not sustain serious injuries, particularly life-threatening internal or spinal injuries. He was sceptical about a two k swim after said dive too.’

  ‘And we do accept that the coroner is an expert on such things?’ asked Narelle.

  ‘We do,’ said Paul. ‘But did he say it was impossible?’

  ‘No,’ said Tony, ‘but you know what they’re like. They never rule anything out completely.’

  ‘That’s because they know that the world is a strange place and the human body even stranger,’ said Paul.

  Narelle shook her head slowly.

  ‘The boss interviews Zoe’s mother. She tells him that sh
e and her daughter can swim distances that experts say are impossible. She didn’t mention diving but let’s just throw that little skill in too.’ Paul paused again. ‘Now, don’t take this the wrong way, boss, but you said that she asked you not to tell us all the details and you’ve respected that. But did you believe her?’

  ‘She certainly believes it,’ said Tony.

  Paul waved his hand dismissively at Tony. ‘But do you believe that she and Zoe have frequently swum out to the Isle of Caves and White Eye and Black Arm islands?’

  Tony had hoped he wouldn’t ask this question.

  ‘I really don’t know. She was so relaxed and matter of fact about it. I know what Bill told us but, I don’t know. It felt like she was telling the truth.’

  ‘So, you think it’s at least possible?’ asked Paul, relentless.

  ‘I don’t think we can dismiss it without evidence to the contrary.’

  ‘We have evidence to the contrary,’ said Narelle. So this is her frustrated voice, Tony thought. He liked Narelle in all her moods. Paul was right. The three of them made a good team. ‘Bill Watson, and I bet any other expert, will tell us, has told us, that it’s not possible. That is evidence. Corroborated forensic evidence.’

  ‘Those same experts told us that a person could not dive off that cliff and swim around the headland and into Driving Sound. And yet,’ Paul raised his voice and was waving Narelle down as she tried to interrupt. ‘Zoe’s boyfriend, who doesn’t know the stories Zoe has been told by her mother, told us unsolicited that he saw Zoe do it and the boss believed him.’ He paused. ‘How do we reconcile that with the so-called corroborated evidence? The same corroborated evidence that tells us that Zoe couldn’t have swum out past the channel and the headland of the bay and yet the experts can’t find her body in the places they said it must be?’

  There was silence.

  ‘Just because someone in an interview says something doesn’t make it true and it certainly doesn’t make it evidence. It’s unreliable evidence at best,’ said Narelle. But the fight had gone out of her a bit.

  ‘I agree,’ said Paul. ‘But it’s interesting that an independent interviewee should say something that completely matches what other people are telling us when he didn’t know any of those stories.’

  ‘And we haven’t found Zoe,’ said Tony.

  ‘And that’s the clincher,’ said Paul, drawing a big circle around Zoe’s photo up on the whiteboard. ‘If she’d gone into the water of Driving Sound, or any other obvious entry points near Rosetta as identified by Bill, her body should be here, here, here or less likely here,’ continued Paul, pointing at the four locations already searched by the marines and air support. ‘Her body could have been dragged out from shore into Storm Bay and then out to the Southern Ocean but it’s extremely unlikely. Particularly unlikely this week when the marine traffic through that area is heavy and constant with the Sydney to Hobart boats and all the recreational boats, TV crews, international media and choppers covering the Derwent and the mouth of Storm Bay.’

  ‘So you think that if the experts got this wrong, that makes another explanation plausible,’ queried Narelle.

  ‘It has to,’ said Paul. ‘If we’re prepared to accept the extremely rare, some would say profoundly unlikely, scenario that Zoe Kennett has drowned in shallow water close to shore and her body has, against all the marine experts’ advice to the contrary, washed out to sea, then why are we so quick to dismiss the equally unlikely scenario that Zoe Kennett swam an unlikely distance and is who knows where? If we absolutely reject the suggestion that Zoe Kennett is an incredible swimmer – the reason why is irrelevant – then where is she? We’re back to a missing person case with no leads.’

  The three detectives sat silently looking at the whiteboard and Zoe’s lovely face.

  ‘All I’m saying is, let’s follow the only lead we currently have. That she can swim further than the experts say, and see where that leaves us,’ said Paul. ‘It’s the last day of the search. We have nothing else and, if we don’t find her, she’s just going to be a photo on station walls. Another missing girl in Tassie until in twenty years’ time, her photo goes from the wall to a filing cabinet and she’s completely forgotten. And I hate that.’

  Tony and Paul headed down to Rosetta for the last time. Five days was the absolute extent of this search unless a very promising lead presented itself. They all knew that wasn’t going to happen. Zoe would be declared missing, presumed drowned. The coroner would sign off on it and then the Kennetts could have a memorial service or do whatever they chose to acknowledge their loss.

  Most families were accepting of a coronial decision. After weeks, months or sometimes years of uncertainty and looking for the unfindable, families grabbed the first tangible certainty presented to them. A piece of paper headed with a rampant lion holding a pick and shovel between two thylacines and the inevitable Latin words, these ones promising fertility and faithfulness of all things. Once the letterheaded paper was filled with words and signed by someone in authority declaring the obvious, it was over. Tony had seen it work time and time again.

  Even so, he wasn’t convinced the Kennetts would be so accepting. But that was all they would get and so they would have to make the best of it. Like every other family stuck in that endless limbo.

  ‘Reckon we’ll have any luck?’ asked Paul, breaking the silence as they drove past the airport roundabout. The Falls Festival was over. Today the heavy traffic was all the other way.

  ‘Well, Bill’s going to get a bit of a surprise when we tell him where we want to look today,’ replied Tony. ‘But I like your thinking from earlier. Last day, time to try something new. Maybe we’ll find her.’

  ‘I only expect to find her body,’ said Paul, ‘if we’re lucky. Unless the mother has said something to you that could make me hope for anything more?’

  Tony wasn’t going to tell Ornice’s story. It was a story for the few and he liked being one of those. Telling it couldn’t help Zoe.

  ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Mrs Kennett thinks Zoe is still alive. She believes Zoe can swim to the islands or anywhere else she chooses. But she’s worried. Zoe has never done this before. She’s afraid Zoe is not coming back. I don’t know if she will ever accept that Zoe is dead but she wouldn’t be the first mother to hang on to that desperate hope.’

  Paul was quiet for a while.

  ‘Come on, tell me. What’s the story?’

  ‘It’s just an old family myth. It’s harmless.’

  Tony hoped Paul would let it go. But he knew he wouldn’t.

  ‘It might not be harmless,’ Paul continued. ‘If Zoe believes it, she could have swum out to her death. Do you think the mother feels guilty or responsible? Maybe that’s contributing to her state of denial.’

  ‘She feels guilty about not knowing how to train Zoe properly, I think.’

  ‘Train Zoe?’

  ‘She thinks that Zoe has been struggling with who she is lately and that maybe Zoe has gone looking for what she needs in the sea.’

  ‘Looking for love in all the wrong places,’ said Paul.

  ‘Something like that.’ Tony had fallen asleep last night hoping that Zoe hadn’t been tricked far offshore by a black-hearted finman.

  ‘So if we find Zoe and she’s alive, do we then need to find her a man to make her want to stay on land?’

  ‘Not sure our job description runs to that but that’s what Eva Kennett is hoping.’

  ‘And Eva Kennett told you the full story,’ said Paul, looking across at Tony. ‘Have you wondered why?’

  Tony didn’t answer.

  ‘You could do worse, boss.’

  ‘Jesus, Paul. Try and focus on the job at hand, will you?’

  ‘I am. Finding Zoe Kennett and keeping her safe is the job. Safe and secure, remember? All I’m saying is –’

  ‘Yeah, I hear what you’re saying. Leave it.’

  ‘What have you got for me, Constables?’

  Jack and Eric were on the
western verandah seated at the little table when Tony and Paul arrived. Tony could see Sadie and Edie down on the jetty and there were several boats out in Driving Sound and the channel beyond. He could not see John or Eva Kennett. Carl and Matt were just pushing off from the jetty in a small but very expensive-looking speedboat Tony hadn’t seen before. He heard the engine roar into full throttle as they pulled out into the bay. Matt waved to the women on the jetty. Ben came trotting up across the lawn. Tony greeted his old companion with a familiar ear rub.

  ‘Happy New Year to you too, sir,’ said Jack, grinning. ‘Don’t worry, Eric and I got to our parties before midnight last night. And we’re not hungover at all today. Not bad for our eighth day straight. How did you pull up, sir? You look a bit seedy, to be honest.’

  Paul and Tony looked at each other. Tony wondered just how much he could let go before he had a word. Again, he decided he couldn’t be bothered. Some senior sergeant at Sorell could deal with it.

  ‘A briefing on your interviews this morning, please,’ said Tony, sitting down.

  ‘Well, we met with those neighbours with good views over the mouth of Driving Sound as you requested, sir,’ said Eric. ‘And you were right, sir. Three people confirmed your suspicions.’

  ‘I was not suspicious, Constable, but go ahead.’

  ‘Sorry, sir. The most detailed interview was with Mr Arthur Coombes who lives about a k up the road and whose lounge room window looks out over the mouth of Driving Sound, two other bays and the channel. Mr Coombes is eighty-eight years old and has had his current house in Pelagus Road since 1951. It used to be his family’s shack and it has been his primary residence since 1982. His wife died four years ago.’

  Eric paused and looked over at Tony. ‘Mr Coombes says that he has seen both Eva and Zoe Kennett, both together and separately, out on Isle of Caves, White Eye and Black Arm islands. He says he has seen them out there with no boat. Mr Coombes has a telescope in his lounge room and I looked through it to see how good the vision of all these islands is. It is excellent, sir.’

  Eric looked up at Tony. The boy looked nervous at what he had to say next.