by Jane Harper
The ‘Asian girl’, the librarian had told Sergeant Mallott and Constable Renn later, was in tears and packing her belongings, while the ‘tall one’ appeared to be trying to convince her to stay. She was seemingly unsuccessful, as both girls left a few minutes later, together but – the librarian wasn’t sure – perhaps not speaking. She had warned them as they’d left that rain was expected.
The walk home had taken them past Gabby’s house, which was quiet and empty, Mia had told Mallott and Renn when it was her turn to be called into the station. They hadn’t stopped, instead continuing down to the beach.
Why? Mia said Renn had asked. Because you were arguing?
They hadn’t been arguing, Mia had insisted. Gabby had given Mia some honest feedback on her short story and Mia had taken it to heart. She hadn’t wanted to stop at Gabby’s house, so Gabby had followed her. It had all seemed important at the time.
By Mia’s account, she and Gabby had walked a short way across the sand, watching the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. By then Mia was getting cold. She wanted to go home before the rain came. Gabby had tried to persuade her to stay a little longer but Mia had picked up her own backpack of library books and said goodbye. She had left Gabby sitting alone on the beach.
They had parted on good terms, Mia told Mallott and Renn. This was slightly contradicted by Mia’s own mother, who was later overheard confiding in a friend that she had battled her way home from a rained-out engagement party to find her daughter ‘upset’ in her bedroom. Mia, in turn, had insisted that wasn’t the case. She had simply been tired and increasingly unsettled by the storm now raging outside.
Gabby was officially sighted only once more that day, thirty minutes later at 3.50 pm. She was seen standing on the large flat rocks that jutted out from the beach, her hair billowing and her striped backpack over her shoulder. Then the clouds drew closer and the waves began to swell and roll in a way they rarely, if ever, did along that stretch of coast, and Gabby Birch was never seen again.
A string of storm-related injuries began flooding into Evelyn Bay’s overwhelmed medical clinic shortly after 5 pm. The most serious, including Kieran, were transported to hospital in Hobart. Within ninety minutes, the phone system was down along a sixty-kilometre stretch of coast. The streets were deserted. Motorists were advised, then warned, then forced by conditions, to stay off the roads. The medical centre remained overrun as treated patients, including Olivia, had no option but to stay and shelter in place. The bodies of the two local men recovered from the water near the caves lay covered by sheets in Clinic Room 2.
And so it wasn’t until the next morning that Patricia Birch was at last able to leave the clinic after a double shift, with her daughter Olivia in tow. They returned home, both weary and battered, to discover that Gabby’s bed had not been slept in.
Neighbours’ doors were knocked on, school acquaintances were summoned, and when there was still no sign of the girl, a search was mounted. Volunteers helped pick through the debris of their broken town as boats scoured the water. A handful of ‘missing’ posters were printed, but in the chaos no-one managed to put up a single one. Perhaps because in their hearts no-one in Evelyn Bay really thought Gabby was missing. They all knew where she was; it was just a question of whether or not the sea would give her up.
The search continued for two long days. On the third morning, Gabby’s purple-striped backpack washed ashore.
Kieran and Verity gave Pendlebury the short version. The girl, the beach, the storm, the vanishing, the bag. The grief the town shared with her family, and the questions that inevitably lingered. The details were all on file somewhere, if Pendlebury was that interested. Mia perched on the armchair nearest the door, holding her baby daughter. She said almost nothing.
When they had finished, Pendlebury tapped her pen against her chin. She glanced at Brian, who was watching them from his corner.
‘Is there any particular reason why Mr Elliott thinks I’m here now about Gabby rather than Bronte?’
‘No.’ Verity’s gaze was unflinching. ‘He’s just confused.’
Kieran blinked in surprise, and also sensed Mia tense a little behind him. Neither corrected Verity. But Kieran felt uneasy. They’d already told Pendlebury that the details of Gabby’s disappearance were all on file. If she was at all curious, it would take her two minutes to discover what Verity was now failing to mention. Kieran debated, then took a breath. Verity turned her head and met his eyes, and he closed his mouth again. Maybe Pendlebury wouldn’t bother. She had enough on her plate.
The officer asked a few more questions and they told her what they could – how Bronte had chased Audrey’s hat into the sea; how Kieran and Mia had seen a car driving by so fast that Mia couldn’t even be sure of the colour; how they both thought that Bronte had seemed ‘fine’ at the Surf and Turf, whatever the opinion of two people who didn’t know her at all was worth.
At last, Pendlebury flipped her notebook shut with a word of thanks and stood. She made her way to the door, taking out three business cards and handing one each to Kieran, Mia and Verity. Her finger tapped on a fourth as she glanced through at Brian, still sitting in his armchair, then she returned it to her wallet.
‘Call me if you think or hear of anything else,’ she said.
They nodded in unison as they watched her walk down the path and through the gate. Verity waited until the officer was safely back on the road before she shut the door. In the living room, Kieran could hear his dad mumbling something to himself.
Verity ignored it and went through to the kitchen. Kieran and Mia followed her, watching as she put on the kettle and leaned against the sink, staring at her reflection in the window. She reached over and opened the door of the fridge, scanning its contents. Kieran could tell she was counting her breathing, in-two-three-four and out-two-three-four. When she straightened, her face was once more as placid as a lake.
‘We’ll get a takeaway for dinner tonight.’ She shut the fridge door carefully.
‘Why didn’t you tell Pendlebury about Dad and Gabby?’ Kieran said.
The kettle shrieked and Verity got out four mugs.
‘I didn’t think it was relevant.’
‘Mum –’ Kieran stared. ‘It absolutely was.’
No response.
‘Mum –’
‘I can hear you, Kieran.’
Verity simply tilted the kettle, the water steaming as it streamed out.
‘She’ll find out.’ Mia was stroking her daughter’s head. ‘I’m not going to be the one who tells her, Verity, but someone will. Even if she doesn’t read the file, which I also think she will.’
‘Well, I’ll deal with that as it comes. If it comes to anything at all.’ Verity put her mug down on the table with a soft click. ‘I mean, it was all sorted out at the time.’
Verity was right about that, Kieran thought, which was all the more reason not to hide it.
The facts remained the facts. Among them that Brian Elliott had been Gabby’s teacher. And Kieran’s, and Sean’s, Ash’s, Olivia’s, Mia’s. As the only PE teacher at the town’s secondary school, he had, at some point, yelled instructions at every single student across the footy oval or netball court or gym.
On the day of the storm, Brian had seen Gabby at the beach. She was standing alone on the rocks and staring at the waves. A fisherman giving his dog a hasty walk as the weather drew in had spotted Brian talking to a girl whose long brown curly hair was blowing all over the place. Brian had never denied it.
Brian had been in town buying a new bike lock and was rushing home himself, he later told Sergeant Mallott and Constable Renn at the police station. He’d been walking briskly, hoping to beat the rain that was threatening to start.
Gabby caught his eye simply because the beach was otherwise deserted. He had called her name and she’d turned and given a shy wave of recognition. At that point, Bria
n Elliott made his way across the sand towards her.
‘What did the police want to know?’ Kieran had heard Verity ask later when Brian had returned from the station. Her voice floated into Kieran’s bedroom, soft and low from the back verandah.
Brian’s reply had been muffled, and Kieran could picture him sitting in one of the beach chairs, his head in his hands. ‘They asked what I’d said to her.’
The rocks Gabby was standing on got slippery in bad weather. Brian told her this, and warned that rain was coming. It wasn’t safe. She should come back onto the beach.
Gabby had agreed, so Brian had helped her across the rocks until she was safely on the sand.
‘That bloody annoying new cop –’ Brian’s voice was still muffled. ‘The young one. What’s his name? Ben?’
‘Chris Renn,’ Verity said.
‘He asked if I had touched her when I helped her. Jesus.’ A heavy sigh. ‘I said yes. Once, on her elbow, and only because she nearly bloody went in.’
‘What did he say to that?’
‘He didn’t say anything, Ver.’ Brian’s words were clearer now. ‘Christ, I hope she turns up soon.’
‘Yes,’ said Verity. ‘I hope so too.’
Both had fallen quiet.
‘What else did you tell the police?’ Kieran heard Verity say eventually.
Brian had asked Gabby if she was all right and she’d said she was. She seemed perhaps a little subdued, in hindsight, but not enough for him to feel concerned, as he explained to the officers. Brian told Gabby to go home before the storm hit. Gabby had said she was leaving soon.
The young constable, Renn, had observed that Brian lived nearby. Had he offered to get his car and drive her home?
Brian said he had not.
Had Brian considered it? After all, the clouds were grey and heavy.
No. It was against school policy to allow students in your car.
Even in a storm?
Even then. Besides, the rain hadn’t started yet, Brian had pointed out, quite rightly. And nobody knew then how bad it would be.
What happened next? Renn had asked.
Nothing.
Brian had said goodbye and left Gabby standing on the sand beside the rocks, her hair blowing and her backpack on her shoulder. He had walked the rest of the way home alone. He had seen no-one, been seen by no-one, let himself into an empty house, and in the process, officially become the last person to admit to seeing Gabby Birch alive.
Chapter 14
If it was possible to find any kind of silver lining at all in the deaths of Finn Elliott and Toby Gilroy, it was in the timing.
When the word spread – and it had, fast – that the Nautilus Black had rolled, Verity and Brian Elliott were among the first to reach the cliffs. They had braced themselves against the wind, their hands pressed to their mouths and wet hair plastered to their skulls as water streamed down their faces. They had watched the boat rocking upside down in the waves and even while being treated by a first responder, Kieran could hear the pulse of their silent incantation. Please, please, please.
The minutes ticked on. Finn did not emerge from under the vessel.
Eventually, Verity had covered her eyes. Brian had seemed unable to look away as the rescue operation led by Julian Wallis fought its way through the swells and was almost immediately abandoned when they saw the conditions. It was already too late for this to end well, but down in the water Julian would have been able to see the desperate observers up on the cliffs. Brian and Verity, still clinging to a hope they both knew had long passed. Toby’s parents, Kevin and Anne, who had raced over from their place on the other side of town. Their other son, Sean, was there too, as was Toby’s wife, Sarah. They all stood beside each other in numb disbelief. Toby’s head wound was washed grotesquely clean and the high-visibility strips on his life jacket kept him in their sight the whole time as he floated facedown in the waves. In the end, both men’s bodies were recovered, as was the boat, and that was more than anyone could reasonably have asked for.
In the days following Gabby’s disappearance, Kieran guessed that Sergeant Mallott and Constable Renn had considered the dual fatality at the caves and decided not to push Brian Elliott too hard when they inquired about the last known sighting of the girl. Because wherever Gabby was just over an hour after she was last seen on the beach, it was not with Kieran’s father as he stood on the clifftop with a dozen fellow townspeople and watched his eldest son drown.
Kieran was still thinking about that when he and Verity entered the Surf and Turf that evening. He and Mia had spent a long afternoon clearing out the hall cupboards, while Verity had tried to distract Brian from helping.
‘Brian. Sit. I am begging you,’ Kieran had heard her snap from the living room as she turned up the volume on the TV.
The Surf and Turf was quiet as Kieran pushed open the door. He could see no sign of Julian, either front of house or in the kitchen, but Lyn the waitress greeted them with a nod. She finished clearing a tray then threaded her way through the mostly empty tables, wearing the same orange uniform and faint aura of cigarette smoke as she had that morning.
‘No baby with you?’ She looked disappointed at Kieran’s empty arms and he shook his head.
‘We weren’t sure you’d be open,’ Verity said to Lyn as she wrote down their takeaway order.
‘Julian didn’t want to, but I suppose he felt he should.’ Lyn nodded to a couple of tables filled with a handful of police officers, including one or two Kieran thought he recognised from Fisherman’s Cottage earlier. They looked subdued as they ate. Sergeant Renn sat at the end of one of the tables, sipping coffee and talking to the officer next to him. Detective Inspector Pendlebury was not with them.
A third table by the window was occupied by two other men. Kieran would have recognised the better looking of the pair even without the hint of makeup and the impractical suit that was already damp and sandy around the ankle cuffs. The reporter had been appearing on the local TV news since his hair had been that dark naturally. He was flicking through his phone. Across the table a cameraman, more comfortable in flannel and denim, yawned and checked his watch. Killing time before the 10 pm live cross, Kieran guessed.
‘They were interviewing Janice Manning outside the supermarket earlier,’ Lyn said. ‘I don’t know what they think she can tell them about anything, she’s only been here since the late nineties. Anyway –’ She punched their order in. ‘This’ll be as quick as we can. They’re short-handed in the kitchen obviously, and I’m on my own out here.’ She glanced at the door. Outside, the road was dark. ‘Julian asked me to cover. The two girls who were rostered on tonight refused to come in.’
‘Is that right?’ said Verity. ‘You didn’t mind, though?’
Lyn shrugged. She avoided looking at the kitchen where Liam usually worked.
‘Got my bills to pay, like everyone else. And look, I’m not saying a word –’ She took a deep breath and licked her lips. ‘But that boy is a piece of work. Just because his stepdad owns this place, he swans around here, thinks he can get away with mur–’ She stopped herself in the nick of time. ‘– with anything. You should hear the way he speaks to me sometimes. And Julian does nothing. Spoils him, gives him chance after chance. And Liam was all over Bronte, even when she told him she wasn’t interested.’
‘Did she?’ Kieran said. ‘You heard her say that?’
‘Not directly, but I know she would’ve. A girl like her wouldn’t be interested in Liam. She had a boyfriend for a while anyway, foreign bloke, but still. Liam didn’t like that, I can tell you.’ Her eyes slid to the few occupied tables. ‘I told the police that, as well.’
Verity frowned. ‘It feels like you might be making a bit of a leap, Lyn.’
‘Sometimes you just know, though, don’t you?’ Lyn sucked on the end of her ballpoint pen like it was a cigarette. ‘Can feel it in
your gut. You know what my first thought was this morning, when we heard it was him?’ She paused for effect, drawing out the moment until Kieran and Verity both shook their heads. ‘I thought to myself: “Yeah. That’d be right.”’
Kieran wasn’t sure how to respond to that. ‘Right,’ he said, finally.
Lyn was clearly waiting for more of a reaction, and they were all saved by the sound of a bell ringing from the serving hatch. Verity blinked and shook her head as Lyn walked away.
‘Back in a minute,’ she said, and headed in the direction of the toilets.
Kieran stepped aside to let the cameraman pass on his way out for a smoke, and wandered over to the community noticeboard. Among the usual notices for private piano lessons and sunrise yoga, a collection had been started for Bronte. Or her family at least, Kieran guessed. A grainy colour printout of her staff photo was pinned to the board. She was smiling, her eyes a little too wide, as though she’d been caught off guard by the flash. A money tin sat on a small table below. A candle placed next to it had blown out, its black wick looking sad and shrivelled.
Kieran fished out what little cash he had in his pockets and put it in. The box felt quite empty, but it couldn’t have been there long and Lyn was right, there weren’t many people about. The walk into town had been even quieter than usual. He and Verity had seen a couple of men walking their dogs in the deepening twilight. No women though, Kieran realised now, other than Verity, who had clearly been desperate for a break from Brian.
It simply had not occurred to Kieran not to step outside. He had offered to bring Audrey with them and been surprised when Mia had looked out at the gathering gloom and hesitated.
‘Do you think you should?’
‘Yeah, why not?’
‘I don’t know. It’s getting dark. Maybe it’s better not to, until we know for sure what’s going on.’