by Jane Harper
There was a silence, then Pendlebury’s pen began scratching again. Renn’s fingers lay still on the keyboard. He turned to Mia.
‘And what did you see of this car?’
Mia switched Audrey to her other arm. ‘I don’t remember what it looked like. I couldn’t say either way.’
Pendlebury stopped writing and tapped her pen thoughtfully on her notebook.
‘Liam said he hadn’t known you two were back in town, so he was a bit upset to see you in the Surf and Turf on Saturday night,’ she said. ‘Whose idea was it to meet there?’
‘Ash suggested it,’ Kieran said.
‘And it was just a general catch-up, is that right?’ She looked up at Mia, her pen hovering. ‘You didn’t want to invite any friends along, Mia?’
‘Well, Olivia was going to be there. I haven’t really kept in touch with anyone else. I left when I was fourteen, and before that I only really hung around with Gabby.’
‘Were you and Gabby Birch very close, then?’
‘Of course.’ Mia frowned. ‘We were best friends.’
‘Sure. It’s just that, knowing teenagers, that’s not always the same thing,’ Pendlebury said. ‘It’s a complicated time.’
That was true. Kieran thought about Ash and Sean and how their own three-way balance had shifted and resettled over the years. It had been just Kieran and Sean for a long time as kids, and then it had felt like Ash had been the one firmly by his side for those big crazy high school summers. Now it was Ash and Sean who saw each other every day, and only saw Kieran every once in a long while.
‘What do you do for work, Mia, by the way?’ Pendlebury’s question caught Kieran by surprise. For a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, the way Pendlebury was watching Mia made him a little uneasy.
‘Nothing right now.’ She fished out a tissue and wiped Audrey’s nose. ‘Stay-at-home mum.’
‘And before that?’
A pause. ‘I worked in immunology research for a biotech company in Sydney.’
‘Impressive.’
Mia shrugged. She didn’t talk about it much, mainly because she missed it but felt bad admitting it, Kieran knew. He couldn’t blame her. The ink had barely been dry on her employment contract when the anniversary of the storm had rolled around and, both feeling sorry for themselves, they’d taken each other out for a few too many Mia’s Mayhems. Whether Mia’s vomiting the next day had diluted the effects of Mia’s Pill or not they were never sure, but either way, nine months later they had Audrey. And they were happy, Kieran could say that without hesitation. They had sat down and considered their options and made a conscious decision. They loved Audrey, but it was possible to be both welcome and a surprise. With an eight-year age gap between himself and Finn, Kieran had long suspected that might in fact have been his own situation.
‘And what about you?’ Pendlebury turned to Kieran.
‘Sports physio.’
‘Also impressive,’ she said, but he could tell she didn’t mean it as much. She straightened. ‘All right. I think we’re finished here for now.’ She flashed a glance at Renn, who pushed his chair away from the desk in confirmation.
Mia stood up as well, a little too fast, prompting Audrey to regurgitate down both of their fronts. ‘Shit.’
‘I’ll show you to the toilets,’ Pendlebury said. ‘They’re on the way out.’
‘I know where they are.’ Mia’s tone was brisk. ‘I’ve been in here before.’
‘Of course,’ Pendlebury said mildly. ‘Still. I’ll take you anyway. There are boxes and all sorts of things lying around. I don’t want you to trip.’
Kieran watched them go, then turned back to Renn, who was shutting down his computer.
‘Let’s wait outside. Get some fresh air.’ Renn checked his phone. ‘I’ve got to head over to Fisherman’s Cottage anyway.’
Kieran followed him along the hall and through the glass doors. Once outside, Renn leaned against the brickwork. He rubbed a hand over his head.
‘You don’t owe anyone anything, you know.’
Kieran looked over in surprise. Renn wasn’t looking back, instead gazing out at the service station next door. A blue car had pulled up at one of the pumps.
Kieran wasn’t sure what to say, so he said nothing.
‘Whatever pressure Liam might be putting on you,’ Renn went on. ‘Or your good mate Sean, for that matter, you’ve got no obligation to them –’
‘I know that. They’re not.’
‘Right.’
Renn fell quiet, and unexpectedly Kieran found himself picturing the funeral. Not remembering Liam this time, for once, or even Finn or Toby. Instead, he could see Renn – young, newly minted Constable Renn – staring at the coffins. His uniform had been perfectly pressed, but there was now something about him that seemed weather-beaten and storm-damaged, like everything else in Evelyn Bay. From what Kieran remembered, Constable Renn had barely said a word all day. But then, Kieran didn’t remember much from that day at all.
‘When I first started here, under Sergeant Mallott –’ Renn was still looking past Kieran. ‘Well. Geoff had his own way of doing things, as you know. So I suppose all I’m saying –’
He broke off again. Across the service station forecourt, the woman with the blue car had finished filling her tank and had gone inside to pay.
Renn’s eyes followed her. ‘I’m saying I know what it’s like to want to do the right thing. And I know sometimes it can be hard to know exactly what that is. Especially if you’re being asked to support someone you trust, like your boss –’ Renn looked at Kieran. ‘Or your mate, for example.’
Kieran shrugged. ‘You asked me about the car, I’ve told you what I thought.’
‘Yep. All right, then. Just –’
He stopped as the glass doors of the police station opened and Mia came out, followed by Sue Pendlebury. Mia was cleaned up, mostly, while Audrey looked disgruntled by the fuss.
‘Okay?’ Kieran said, and she nodded. He looked at the officers. ‘Are we right to go, then?’
‘You are. Are you heading home?’ Renn’s tone was once again all business. ‘I’m walking that way –’
‘Mia?’
They all stopped and turned at the sound of the voice. The call had come from the service station, and Kieran could see the woman with the blue car was standing by the driver’s door, keys in one hand. She was shielding her eyes with the other.
‘Mia?’ she called again. She started walking over. ‘It is you.’
Mia placed her before Kieran did. ‘Trish. Hello. How nice to see you.’
Kieran had not seen Patricia Birch up close since before Gabby’s disappearance. She had never looked that much like either of her daughters and Kieran guessed Olivia and Gabby took after their father.
Trish Birch had aged in the past twelve years, not surprisingly. But to Kieran she seemed older in a way that was hard to define. Her hair was still a neat shoulder-length bob, shiny and maybe a little lighter in colour than he remembered. She had put on a bit of weight and had the faraway look of a woman who Kieran could believe relied on sleeping pills. There was something different around the eyes too. Kieran hadn’t known Trish well before the storm, but he was willing to bet the heaviness he saw there now hadn’t been there then. It looked to him a lot like grief, specifically old grief. The kind that left a permanent mark, like rings in a tree trunk. Brian and Verity had it as well.
‘How are you, Mia?’ Trish said. There was a slight pause. ‘And I heard about your baby. Congratulations.’
‘Thank you.’ Mia twisted her body to show Audrey in her arms. Trish glanced down, but her gaze bounced straight back up.
She stared at Mia, who had once been the same age as Gabby. Who had shared homework notes, slept over at their house, eaten at their table. Mia, who had got to grow up and have a child of her
own. Live her life. Kieran could almost see the what ifs swirling in the air around Trish. She turned suddenly to Pendlebury.
‘You haven’t worked out what happened to Bronte yet?’
‘No.’ Pendlebury shook her head. ‘But we will.’
Scepticism flickered on Trish’s face. ‘You sound sure.’
‘I’m sure we’ll do everything we possibly can.’
Trish’s gaze slid to Sergeant Renn. He tried his best to maintain eye contact, Kieran noticed, but seemed to be struggling. Kieran didn’t blame him. He found it quite hard to look into those eyes himself.
‘Because it’s the same beach, isn’t it.’ Trish’s voice was steady. An observation, not a question. Gabby’s name hovered unspoken.
‘Mrs Birch.’ Pendlebury’s tone was careful. ‘Patricia. If you’re worried there may be some connection between what happened on Saturday and what happened to your daughter, I’ve said I’m very happy for you to –’
Trish was already shaking her head. She gave a small, tired laugh.
‘You don’t need me to tell you what the connections are. Everyone knows. It’s the same beach. Same time of year. The same responding officer even. So I’m sure the sergeant here can tell you all about those days. What was and wasn’t done.’ She looked squarely at Renn. ‘He would know.’
Pendlebury’s eyes also flicked, swiftly and just once, in Renn’s direction. Audrey, sensing the tension, screwed up her face and began to cry. Trish reached out and stroked the baby’s head.
‘Mrs Birch,’ Pendlebury said. ‘If you want to come inside and –’
‘No. I’ve got an appointment to get to.’ Trish dropped her hand. ‘But it’s good to see you, Mia. Take care of yourself.’
She turned, then paused in front of the two officers. Her mouth was pressed tight but in the end she couldn’t stop herself. ‘Just take it seriously this time. Please.’
Chapter 19
Olivia was waiting on the road outside Fisherman’s Cottage, her arms crossed over her chest. Kieran could see she was staring at the small collection of bouquets laid at the gatepost, the flowers already wilting as the cellophane flapped in the breeze. She straightened as she sensed movement, looking a little surprised to see Kieran and Mia approaching with Sergeant Renn.
No-one had said anything as they’d watched Trish Birch turn and walk back to the service station. She’d driven away, Renn’s gaze following the car until it was well out of sight. He’d turned to Kieran.
‘Let’s go.’ He nodded at Pendlebury. ‘See you shortly.’
‘Yes,’ she had said simply, her eyes on his face. ‘See you.’
Renn had not said another word all the way to Fisherman’s Cottage. Now he pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, ducked under the police tape and went to open the front door.
‘They’re letting you back in?’ Mia said to Olivia as they stood by the gate and watched Renn find the right key. ‘That’s good.’
‘Not permanently, just to get some clothes and things. And Julian’s asked me to get Bronte’s work keys back. She was supposed to be on earlies this week so she’s got one of the sets for the back door.’ Olivia was wearing the same borrowed outfit she’d been in that morning and toyed with the hem of her jumper. ‘Chris says they’ll give Bronte’s parents the chance to visit the house – if they want to, I guess – and then I might be able to come back.’
Olivia did not look at all keen on that idea, Kieran thought, as Renn opened the front door and disappeared inside.
‘If you’re allowed in, do you reckon that means they’ve found whatever they were looking for?’ Kieran said.
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ Olivia shook her head. ‘Or else they’ve decided it’s not in the house.’
Renn reappeared in the doorway. ‘All yours, Liv.’
Olivia rested a hand on the gatepost, but went no further. Kieran saw her glance at the dying flowers at her feet, then to the darkened hallway.
‘Do you want us to come?’ Mia said, and raised her voice as Olivia nodded. ‘Chris? Sorry. Is it okay if we come in with her?’
Renn saw Olivia’s expression and considered. He looked at Kieran, empty-handed other than Audrey in her sling, and Mia, holding only the small nappy bag.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘You grab what you need, Liv, but I’ll have to make a note before you take it.’
Renn stepped aside to let them pass and Kieran followed Olivia up the path and into the cool, dim hallway.
‘Come through,’ she said. The cottage’s kitchen and living room were cosy and felt like they would be welcoming under different circumstances, but even to Kieran’s untrained eye he could tell both areas had been searched. It looked like some effort had been made to restore items to their rightful spots, but even having never been there before, Kieran could tell things were slightly off. The cushions on the couch looked somehow in the wrong order, and the entire contents of the bookshelf felt misaligned.
Even now, Kieran caught Renn casting his eye over the room. Whatever he and Pendlebury and the other officers had been looking for, they still hadn’t found it, Kieran felt sure. They must be fairly certain it wasn’t in the house, though, or Kieran doubted they’d have let Olivia back in, let alone him and Mia. Renn also hadn’t seemed worried about them smuggling something out in their pockets or the nappy bag Mia was carrying, Kieran realised. So, probably nothing small then.
What was it? He couldn’t help glancing around as well, aware he wouldn’t recognise a missing item even if he tripped over it.
Olivia barely looked around, walking straight to her bedroom. Mia followed her in and sat on the edge of the bed as Olivia opened a drawer and began to pile underwear on the dresser. Kieran hovered in the hall, giving them some space.
Renn peered in to check what Olivia was doing and ducked straight back out again. He went to the back door and unlocked it, stepping out onto the verandah. He stood framed in the doorway with his arms folded, and his gaze resting on the floral tributes near the shoreline. Two camera crews were down there, Kieran could see. The guys from the Surf and Turf the other night, plus a new pair. They were both interviewing a man who was pointing at something out to sea while trying to stop his dog from chewing the flowers.
Kieran turned away and came face to face with the last room in the hallway. The back bedroom. In his parents’ house, this was his room. In Fisherman’s Cottage, it had belonged to Bronte. The door was wide open. No privacy for the dead, Kieran guessed.
Bronte’s room had the specific type of sparseness that suggested its occupant hadn’t planned to stay long, Kieran could tell from the hallway. A double bed with a green and white doona cover took up most of the space, along with an open clothes rail where she had hung up a single row of dresses and tops. A spare Surf and Turf uniform dangled from the end, garish against her own clothes, which were mostly black and grey. A full-length mirror was propped against the wall, with a hair straightener and a makeup bag on the floor beside it. The single window in Bronte’s room looked out onto the beach, across the sand and down to the place where her body was found.
A desk had been pushed underneath the window. Bronte’s art station, Kieran thought. It was the only cluttered space in the whole room, the surface covered by different types of pencils stacked in cups, small pots of paint and a pile of notebooks and papers. On top of a thick sketchbook lay a yellow industrial-looking torch. ‘Sean Gilroy’ was printed along the side in capital letters.
Kieran looked at the torch and the desk and suddenly imagined Bronte in that room at night. Settling in with the blinds pulled down, and then hearing a noise outside. Getting up from the bed or desk chair, reaching for the torch and going to the window. Kieran tried to picture what Bronte would have done next. Would she turn off the main light and peer around the edge of the window frame, letting her night vision adjust to give her an advantage? Or would she hoist the
blind up and stand there, brazen and backlit as she aimed that beam of the light out onto whatever was waiting on the dark beach? Kieran hadn’t known her well enough to guess.
He turned away from the bedroom and walked across the hall and to the back door. Renn looked up as he stepped out.
‘Olivia told you Bronte thought she heard noises at night a few times?’ Kieran kept his voice low so as not to wake Audrey.
Renn sighed. ‘Yeah.’
‘Any idea what that was?’
‘No.’ Renn rubbed his eyes and turned his back on the beach. ‘You know what it’s like along here. Could have been anything at all. Dog, another animal, anything. A person. Who knows?’
He seemed very flat. Kieran wasn’t sure if it was down to being here in the house, or the sight of the tributes on the sand, or the encounter outside the station with Trish Birch. Take it seriously this time. Perhaps simply the investigation in general. Kieran suspected having Pendlebury as a shadow would make anyone want to make sure they were doing things to the letter. Kieran looked back at Bronte’s room.
‘Am I okay to take Sean’s torch, do you reckon?’ he said. ‘He needs it for the wreck.’
‘That yellow one?’ Renn said, his eyes still on the shoreline. ‘Yeah. You’re right to grab that.’
‘Thanks.’ Kieran went back inside, blinking in the sudden darkness of the hallway. As he stepped into Bronte’s room, he could hear Mia’s and Olivia’s voices floating from the main bedroom.
‘Bronte lent me that book.’ Olivia sounded subdued. ‘She said it was her favourite of his.’
‘Yeah, it’s one of my favourites too. They made it into a movie.’
‘I think I saw that. It was good.’
‘Yeah. The book’s still better though,’ Mia said, and Kieran could hear the rustle of pages. ‘“For Bronte, thank you for the inspiration. Yours, George Barlin.” Were they friends, then? The most I’ve ever got from him was a signature. “All the best” once, when the signing queue was short.’