The two GDs passed on their initial notes: the mother, Mrs Lexie Parker, went to the shops for ‘373 seconds’, and when she returned, her daughter was gone. A very precise time frame: three hundred and seventy-three seconds. Six minutes. Mrs Parker wasn’t at the playgroup now; she was off searching the streets with her husband. Damn, an officer should have stayed with them.
Caruso could imagine his sister if one of her four kids disappeared—she’d be screaming down every footpath. If it were his five-year-old nephew, the boy would be quivering with fear, but his six-year-old niece would see it as an adventure. The eight- and ten-year-olds were addicted to their phones; they’d never get lost with Google maps, their mum on speed dial and Uncle Gabe in their local police station—unless their phone battery ran out.
Twisting his wrist, Caruso checked his Seiko: 12.35 pm. Almost two hours since the call had come in. The GDs had thoroughly examined every space around the playgroup where a child could hide. A few years ago, Suze had been involved in a search for a missing toddler for hours; eventually they’d found him curled up asleep in a laundry cupboard underneath a pile of towels. If Bella had escaped through the gate, she could have walked up to two kilometres an hour. It was amazing how far kids that age could travel if they were focused on following something like a cute dog. Lost and injured seemed most likely in this quiet village. Despite the media headlines, when a child was abducted, it wasn’t usually by a stranger but by one of the parents. From what the GDs had reported that didn’t seem to be the case, however, Caruso was open to all possibilities. An elderly neighbour on the laneway behind the playgroup recalled a red hatchback driving off around eleven o’clock, half an hour after Bella had disappeared. The doorknocks were trying to identify the vehicle.
Normally, the Crime team wouldn’t be involved at this stage; they’d leave it to the first responders and only come in later, after the initial searches and interviews had been completed. But this was no ordinary day. Most of the city’s police force was on duty at Parliament House. Thousands of people were marching to protest the bill for voluntary-assisted dying. One of the right-to-life leaders had managed to bring all the different groups together and they were congregating outside the Parliament. Caruso had seen some footage back at Woden police station, hundreds of people waving placards with slogans like KILL THE BILL NOT US, LOCK UP YOUR GRANNIES, DR DEATH IS COMING, SAVE THE SENIORS and MY RIGHT FOR LIFE. He’d been all for assisted suicide in the right circumstances until five months ago, when his dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Now, he didn’t want to think about any kind of sickness and dying.
Of course, the cameras had focused on Nurse Natalie, her long black hair and her impassioned, indignant tirade. When her face appeared on the TV, the detectives had groaned. Whether or not they agreed with her, they were tired of Natalie Alvarez inciting fear and hatred. She stirred up emotions and encouraged her people to attack their opposite number. The pro-euthanasia groups were arriving now, and police teams were ready in their riot gear. Some of the roads around Capital Hill had been blocked off. At the Lodge and Government House, extra patrols were in place, as well as at a couple of the churches with outspoken priests. The protest was expected to turn ugly fairly quickly.
Not the best day to mount a search and rescue with so many police involved elsewhere. Hopefully they’d find Bella quickly and it wouldn’t come to that.
Inside the playgroup, two of the kids were crying, confused about Bella, and terrified by their sobbing mums. Suze was good with children; she had two teenagers of her own. Kneeling to their level, she tried to calm them down. It helped that she wasn’t in uniform; they thought Suze was just another mum. One girl was too shy to speak. A boy kept asking: ‘Can I have Dora?’ That made the mothers cry even more.
When Bella had gone missing, four mothers were in the room—how could they not have noticed?
With the mothers’ consent, Caruso asked the kids what had happened that morning.
‘Last week, I played in the sandpit,’ said one of the twin boys.
‘Bella was here yesterday,’ said the other.
Caruso hoped they could understand the next question: ‘Did anyone come to playgroup who wasn’t normally here?’
‘Santa came at Christmas,’ chirped the loudest twin. ‘He gave me a dumb car. I wanted a truck.’
‘Anyone else today?’
‘Jimmy,’ whispered the blonde-haired girl, Morgan.
‘Who’s Jimmy?’
Her whisper became a little louder. ‘He’s friendly. He’s big.’
‘Is Jimmy a grown-up or a child?’
‘He’s strong. He can lift me up to the sky.’
Must be a grown-up. Caruso squatted down closer to the girl.
‘Is Jimmy someone’s father? Or a friend?’
Morgan shook her head, and then changed it to a nod.
‘He says he’s my friend.’
‘Do you know where Jimmy lives?’
Morgan frowned at the question and replied carefully: ‘Only I saw him.’
‘Can you tell me what Jimmy looks like?’
‘He has hair like me. But he’s big like Daddy. Big and strong. Really, really strong.’
Caruso nodded at Suze, allowing himself a small sigh. This is it. Bella’s with this Jimmy bloke.
As Suze hurried over to the huddle of mums to find out Jimmy’s surname and address, he watched her body language—a frown, a shake of her head, a glance at Morgan. She was back with him in a heartbeat and Caruso felt for his radio. They’d get to Jimmy’s house ASAP.
‘What’s his surname, Suze? Where does he live?’
‘Sorry.’ She shook her head and motioned him closer so she could speak directly into his ear. ‘Jimmy is an imaginary friend.’
Caruso made a clicking noise through his teeth and stood up straight again. After all that mountain biking last week, squatting hurt his fucking knees.
The room was much quieter now that the playgroup kids had been taken away by grandparents and friends. The mothers remained. When Suze had rung in to request background checks on all the playgroup mums, she’d said the station was almost silent. Normally a buzz hummed through Woden police station, the sound of colleagues on the phone, in interviews, briefing the team, discussing surveillance. But between the officers out at Parliament House and a missing child, it was like a morgue. On top of that, everyone went quiet when a child was involved in a case; the usual black humour was suppressed, and the competitive piss-taking too.
Suze asked if any of the mothers had taken photos of the children on their phones this morning; they might have captured someone or something in the background, outside the fence. But none of them had.
Shifting uncomfortably in the hard-backed chair near the kitchenette, Caruso checked his notes. Imogen Lawrence. Mother of twin boys. Brown bobbed hair, average size. Jeans and a spotty jumper. Wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. Friendly. Wanted to help.
‘Where exactly did you see Bella last?’
‘I couldn’t really say. Bella was in here near the dressing-up box.’ Imogen pointed to the far corner. ‘But then she was also outside in the cubbyhouse with my boys. They were going in and out.’
‘Did any adult go outside with the kids?’
‘Yes, I think Julia was outside. Or was it Mel? Oh, I can’t remember.’
The woman put her hands to her face and the tears flowed. Her hair was damp against the sides of her cheeks. Tears mixed with sweat from racing around the streets earlier.
Passing her a box of tissues from the shelf next to him, Caruso smiled encouragingly.
‘Was anything happening in the room?’ he pressed. ‘Any kind of distraction inside?’
‘I don’t know.’ Imogen blew her nose loudly and wiped her cheeks. ‘There are always distractions. Children crying, toddlers arguing, stuff being dropped on the floor. My twins are always distracting someone.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Oh.’ Imogen hesitated. ‘They�
��re not very good at interacting with other children.’
Caruso waited to see if she would say more.
‘I … we … it’s just that … they get … um … easily frustrated.’
Did the twins have behavioural issues? ADHD? Had they hit Bella? Was that why she’d disappeared? Was she scared and hiding from the boys? Imogen was the one who had called triple zero, he wouldn’t forget that. But none of these mothers seemed to have any concrete information; no-one remembered Bella’s movements. Through the window, he noticed a new mum with a toddler in hand.
‘Who’s that coming in the door now?’
‘Oh no.’ Imogen’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘It’s the Thursday afternoon group. I’ll have to go and tell them.’
‘Thanks for your time, Mrs Lawrence.’ Caruso nodded at her. ‘If you think of anything, please let me know.’
‘I’ve been praying,’ Imogen said, sniffling, as she stood up. ‘God will help us find Bella.’
Caruso believed in God the same way he twirled his spaghetti. Without thinking too much about it. His Italian Catholic parents expected certain things from him—a steadfast belief in God, a solid job with superannuation, a traditional wedding to a nice girl and a few grandchildren for them to enjoy. He’d covered off the first two. But the traditional marriage had ended in divorce. Casualty of the job. He’d always pictured himself with kids but now, after two decades in the force, he didn’t know if he could bring a child into this world, even if he had a wife. Thankfully, his sister had popped out four in close succession, taking the pressure off him. So, instead of being the most protective father on the planet, he was the most protective uncle. Drove his sister and brother-in-law mad; they preferred to see the world through rose-tinted glasses.
Looking out the window he saw Suze walking around the playgroup yard. Ostensibly, Imogen was showing her the sandpit, the cubbyhouse and the shed where the scooters were kept. Caruso tracked their movements to assess if there were any areas that couldn’t be seen from the chairs where the mums had been sitting. The big window gave the impression that the whole garden was in view, but the corners by the sandpit and the gate were both hidden. While Caruso could see the bottom fence, it was partially obscured by some small trees. And of course there were blind spots behind the shed and the cubbyhouse. Caruso sketched a rough map in his diary, highlighting the blind spots. It was possible, although unlikely, for someone to enter the playground without being noticed.
Julia Fleming. The playgroup organiser. Thirty-two years old. One girl here, one child at school and a baby on the way. Her whole body seemed swollen with the pregnancy, her face round, her wrists plump, her ankles thick. She was the only mum wearing a skirt.
‘We’ve never had a child go missing before.’ Julia’s chin wobbled. Then she gritted her teeth as though trying to stop herself from breaking down.
‘We have officers out there looking for Bella,’ Caruso assured her. ‘So, you have the key to the playgroup. What time did you arrive this morning?’
‘I normally come straight after dropping my daughter at school but today I picked up Tara on the way. I got here at about nine fifteen.’
‘Does anyone else have a key?’
‘No, only the convenors. That’s me. Each playgroup has one convenor.’
‘And what time did—’
‘Oh my gosh, I’ll have to ring the Playgroup Society. They’ll want me to do an incident report.’
Julia reached down to pick up her handbag, puffing as she bent sideways. Caruso stretched forward, grasped the straps and passed it to her. A huge bag, an extra weight to lump around.
‘Before you do that, Mrs Fleming, just a moment, please. Did anything unusual happen this morning?’
The woman was already scrolling through the numbers on her mobile. She gritted her teeth again and groaned under her breath.
‘No, nothing unusual. Can I make this call now?’
Tara Murphy was up next—the one with red hair, spiky on top. Short woman with a loud personality. A toddler plus a baby in a pram. She’d already spoken to him a few times since he’d arrived. Caruso flipped open his diary but Tara was already speaking.
‘Aren’t we lucky that you’re here now, rather than that boy? Has anyone told you that you look like George Clooney? A much younger version, of course. You’ll find Bella, won’t you?’
From one extreme to the other—terrified Imogen and flirty Tara. The type who flirted automatically whenever she wanted to get something.
‘We’re doing our best, Mrs Murphy,’ he answered.
Tara scanned the room and leant in close to him, despite the fact that none of the other mothers was near enough to hear their conversation.
‘You know that Bella has a cast on her left arm? Well, the whole story sounds strange to me. And you should see Lexie’s cheek. It’s got a big cut along the bone here—’ Tara drew a line down her own cheekbone ‘—and it’s black and blue.’
‘How do you think Bella broke her arm?’
‘Let’s just say that nothing would surprise me.’
‘Are either of the parents violent towards Bella?’
The woman jerked back from Caruso as if she’d been bitten. Fine for her to provide innuendo, but he could see that she wouldn’t actually answer any of the hard questions with facts. When the Parkers came back from their search, he’d have to separate the parents to interview them. Caruso watched as Tara folded her arms against her chest. Perhaps there was violence in her own family.
‘I’ve met Dr Parker a few times and he’s lovely.’ She leant forward again. ‘He’s going to pull some strings and get Zoe into the best ENT specialist in Canberra.’
‘And Mrs Parker?’ Caruso prompted.
‘She’s got the perfect life—perfect husband, perfect house and perfect daughter.’ Tara suddenly seemed to realise what she’d said. ‘Fuck, where can Bella be?’
‘Were there any distractions inside the room?’
‘Those twins are always a bloody distraction. But apart from that, nothing out of the ordinary. Sammy was trying to pour a drink and he tipped a bottle of milk over the table. They were playing hide-and-seek before that.’
Caruso wrote in his diary: Sammy spilt milk. Playing hide-and-seek. As an investigator, he always noted everything down, but at this particular moment he wished he could press fast forward on Tara. Clearly, she was a gossip who liked the attention, but he didn’t have the time to give it to her. When he finished interviewing the mothers, he had to find the Parkers, check with the foot patrol, call in the SAR team, brief the land search coordinator, discuss the search areas of possibility and probability, and decide whether to bring in the SES. And he’d have to set up a police forward command.
He sighed and carried on. ‘And does that often happen, Mrs Murphy?’
‘Yeah, Mel’s very permissive. She says it makes them independent. But now I’ll have to wash Zoe’s sweater. It’s covered in milk.’
You can always buy another sweater from the shop. But you can’t buy another little girl.
‘Thank you, Mrs Murphy, you’ve been very helpful. Just one last question: does anyone in the playgroup own a red hatchback?’
‘A hatchback?’ Tara repeated the word as though she didn’t understand it.
‘What sort of car do you have?’
‘A Honda Jazz. Is that a hatchback?’
‘Yes, that’s right—it’s the hatchback shape. What colour is your car?’
‘Maroon.’
‘Uh-huh. And were you driving it today?’ Caruso wondered if maroon could be classified as red.
‘No. Julia picked me up this morning. My husband has the car today.’
Mel Wainwright. The youngest one. Attractive, with dark curly hair, curvy top and bottom. Single mother with one boy. A large wooden pendant hanging over a poncho-style jumper, fringed at the hem. Slightly bohemian. The earth mother type dedicated to raising her kids in the most organic way.
‘I told the other police off
icers everything,’ Mel said softly. ‘Are they still looking? Why haven’t they found her yet?’
‘We’ve got officers out searching. I’m just double-checking to see if anyone remembers anything. Was there any kind of distraction when Bella went missing?’
‘We were looking after her properly.’ Mel’s voice cracked. ‘We were watching her.’
‘Sorry, I wasn’t implying that you weren’t, Ms Wainwright,’ Caruso said hurriedly. ‘I’m wondering if something unusual happened. Did anyone come into the playgroup who wasn’t normally here?’
‘No.’ Her answer was emphatic; the same answer everyone else had given to that question.
‘Okay, so where were you when—’
‘Wait. Someone did come. Tara’s husband. I don’t know why. He just popped in.’
‘Did he speak to you?’
‘No, he and Tara went outside to talk. He didn’t come inside.’
‘What time was this?’
‘I don’t know.’ Mel shook her head, the long curls settling around her shoulders. ‘And I don’t know if anyone else saw him. Oh my God, do you think Josh has something to do with it?’
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A three-year-old girl is missing from Merrigang playgroup. Please help look for her by checking around your house, shed, garage, boats, trailers etc.—anywhere a child might hide. Let’s find little Bella together.
283 people liked this. 207 shares.
COMMENTS (85)
– That’s terrible, I’m sharing this right now.
– OMG—that poor family. I lost my boy in Woden Mall for a few hours and I was beside myself.
– I’m checking my property and the neighbour’s.
– Shared Watson 2602.
– She looks so sweet. She must be scared without her mum.
– I wondered why all the police were hanging around the shops. I thought it was a robbery.
– Have they checked on that paedophile in Acacia Drive?
– I think our kids do gymnastics together. Is her mum the tall one with dark hair?
Six Minutes Page 5