The Vanishing

by Gabrielle Lord

  Jazz was starting to squirm. No way could she tell her mother that she hadn’t gone to school at all that day, let alone what she and Phoenix had been up to! But one thing her mother insisted on with her and Tim was a relationship of truth and trust. Jazz hated having to lie. Her mind racing to come up with a cover story, she started to speak when . . .

  Ding-dong.

  ‘That’ll be Mack!’ Jazz said with relief. ‘We’re working on a project together!’ At least that’s not a total lie, she thought to herself as she ran to the front door. ‘Your timing is excellent,’ she said, hustling Mack straight upstairs to her room.

  Once there, she opened up CrimeSeen and took Mack through what they’d found out so far.

  ‘Sounds like you and Phoenix make quite the team,’ teased Mack.

  ‘You mean me, Phoenix and his ego,’ said Jazz, filling Mack in on how Phoenix had lied about the DNA analysis machine.

  ‘But you’ve found out so much stuff anyway. And I’ve got something to add!’ She grabbed the tablet and loaded up Anika’s blog.

  ‘I’ve already read through the posts,’ complained Jazz. ‘Unless you’ve found the one that was deleted?’

  ‘No, and I’m kicking myself for not reading it earlier,’ replied Mack. ‘But it’s not the posts I’m talking about. It’s the comments.’ Mack clicked on the first post and scrolled down to the comments.

  Most of the comments were very short, with a few words or emoticons.

  ‘But look at this one,’ Mack said. ‘It’s different from the others.’

  She clicked to the next post and down to the comments again. They were all short, but the one Mack pointed out had a very different tone to the others. It was just one word:

  Jazz looked at Mack. ‘What’s a narcissist? I know it’s not exactly a compliment.’

  ‘I think it’s someone who’s up themselves. It’s from a Greek legend about a guy who fell in love with his own reflection.’

  ‘And who are they accusing? Anika or Linda?’ Jazz frowned. ‘Are there more?’

  ‘Yup,’ said Mack, clicking through to a more recent post.

  ‘They’re all from an anonymous user, and they all have that winking smiley face at the end,’ Jazz observed.

  ‘They get weirder,’ said Mack. ‘Check this one out.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’ Jazz asked.

  ‘It’s like Anonymous is attacking Anika for blogging the journal,’ Mack agreed. ‘Maybe trying to discredit her?’

  Jazz got up to grab a copy of Dark Places: Criminal Minds from her bookshelf. ‘Let’s check out what this has to say about narcissism.’ She flicked through it, then read out:

  ‘Narcissists generally reveal a sense of entitlement, no empathy for others’ feelings and they show an inflated sense of self-importance. They often have a dangerous and demanding character which is masked by superficial charm.’

  She looked up from reading to find Mack watching her with a twitching smile. ‘Remind you of anyone?’ she asked.

  ‘There should be a picture of Phoenix next to this description! Seriously though, a narcissist sounds like exactly the sort of person who could take a daughter from her parents’ house without any worries.’

  ‘And leave smiley faces on threatening blog comments,’ said Mack.

  Jazz clicked back into CrimeSeen and under the Kidnapper heading added:

  Thinking out loud, she continued, ‘This isn’t about personal gain. They haven’t even demanded any money, just that jewellery box. It’s all about them and covering their tracks.’

  ‘Maybe it’s someone famous,’ offered Mack. ‘Someone who’s already got lots of money, and wants to suppress the evidence to avoid a scandal.’

  She started searching sinclair + celebrity. ‘I’m not getting anything.’

  ‘The sister!’ cried Jazz. ‘You’ve reminded me that I meant to run a search on her.’ She quickly typed karen taylor. ‘Oh no. There’s a heap of them.’

  ‘Try adding “Redcliffe”. Your notes mention that’s where Debbie said she had come from.’

  ‘Oh, yes! Here’s a Karen Taylor—and her business address is Redcliffe!’

  Mack leaned in closer. ‘But that’s a natural therapies place! Can’t be her. She’s a pathologist.’

  ‘That’s disappointing,’ Jazz said. None of the other Karen Taylors looked promising at all.

  Mack sighed. ‘Whatever happened to Linda Sinclair, I just hope we can find Anika.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Jazz softly.

  Mack’s phone beeped. ‘I have to go,’ she said, switching off her alarm and standing up.

  ‘That’s fine,’ Jazz said, giving her friend a reassuring hug. ‘Go look after your family. This blog stuff has been a great help. I’ll keep you posted.’

  Once Mack had left, Jazz was about to turn back to CrimeSeen when her mobile whistled a message alert. She read it and gasped.

  I can tell you everything you need to know.

  Meet me at Deepwater tonight at 9 pm.

  I must not be seen. Tell no-one where you’re going. I am in great danger.

  Linda Sinclair.

  <30:25>

  ‘What?’ Phoenix’s shocked question spoke for both of them. Jazz had rung him as soon as she received the impossible message. ‘I don’t believe it. Read it to me again.’

  ‘Trust me. The message is from Linda Sinclair,’ Jazz said for the third time.

  ‘How could she possibly have your number?’ Phoenix asked, bewildered.

  ‘Never mind how she got my number, how is she messaging me at all? Is she still alive?’

  Jazz and Phoenix were silent, in complete incomprehension. Finally, Phoenix spoke, ‘Maybe she faked her death after all, because she was really frightened and she’s been in hiding.’

  ‘For what, like, twenty years?’ Jazz’s voice was incredulous. ‘What if it’s not her but someone using her name?’

  ‘And how could that person know that we’ve even heard of Linda Sinclair?’

  Once again, they were stumped until almost at the same moment they arrived at a terrifying possibility.

  Jazz said, ‘Unless it’s not her at all but somebody pretending to be her to get us off the track!’

  At the same time Phoenix said, ‘What if it’s the kidnapper?’

  ‘What should we do?’ Jazz asked after a pause.

  ‘Not sure. We could just ignore it.’

  ‘But if it really is Linda Sinclair, and we don’t go and meet her, and something dreadful happens, how would we ever forgive ourselves?’ Jazz asked.

  ‘I think we have to agree to the meeting. Text her back and say we’ll be there.’

  Jazz nodded to herself, pleased that she and Phoenix were thinking the same way.

  ‘Had Mack read the blog? What did she say?’ he asked.

  Jazz filled him in on what Mack had revealed about the comments on Anika’s blog. From the keyboard taps and mouse clicks coming through the phone she knew he was looking them up for himself.

  ‘Very interesting,’ he remarked. ‘Although that emoticon seems weird on such a serious message. So after dinner tonight, I’ll come by your place and we’ll head to Deepwater early. We should do some surveillance first.’

  ‘And just how do you plan to do that? What if the security guy is there?’

  ‘I’ve got just the thing,’ he replied, with an unmistakable grin in his voice.

  It was 8.09 pm on his mobile when, later that same evening, Phoenix walked downstairs with the bulging sports bag under one arm. He was heading for the front door when he heard his mother calling him. He cursed. Why was she choosing now to be interested in what he was doing?

  She was sitting at the dining room table with a pile of papers in front of her.

  ‘Phoenix,’ Dr Lyons said, taking off her glasses. ‘It’s hard to catch you these days. We need to have a chat.’

  ‘I’m just on my way out, Mum.’

  ‘I can see that. “Out” seems to be where you’re always go
ing. I thought we agreed you would have an increased level of responsibility around the house while you’re suspended.’

  ‘I’ll do the washing up tomorrow, I promise.’

  ‘To be honest, Phoenix, I’d prefer you to be back at school than doing the washing up. Have you written that letter of apology yet?’

  Phoenix didn’t answer.

  ‘You haven’t, have you?’ Dr Lyons sighed. ‘Of course, I can’t force you; there would be no point in that. But it’s clear that you can’t go on like this.’

  ‘But if I apologise it means everyone’s missing the point. Their system needs to be more secure. They need to build a serious firewall and mitigation scripts—’

  ‘You’re still defending your position, I see. I really hope you have a change of attitude soon. So does your father. I’ve got some interesting cases coming up and I could use the help in the lab, but I’ll be sticking with my rule. Until that letter is written, you’re not to go in there.’ She put her glasses back on and returned to her paperwork.

  <27:30>

  Phoenix was so lost in his thoughts as he walked that he almost didn’t spot Jazz waving at him from the shadows on the footpath outside Deepwater.

  ‘What’s in the bag?’ she asked.

  He opened it up to reveal a drone. Shaped like a large black X, with a rotor blade at the end of each arm, and a curved beaklike scoop underneath each of the four arms, it reminded Jazz of a very large clawed spider.

  ‘It’s against the law to use it in a built-up area. But I think if we’re after a killer, we might have to bend the rules a bit.’

  ‘Anything that gives us a better idea of what’s lying in wait before we go in sounds good to me,’ said Jazz. She looked up at the dense outline of Deepwater and shuddered. It had never felt so sinister. Now it seemed to loom over Anika’s house. She remembered reading about a killer who used to watch his victims’ houses for days before he attacked, getting acquainted with the daily rhythm of his targets—what time they left the house, what time they came home from work, when they locked up the house, when they went to bed . . . The kidnapper could well have done that to make sure that all was quiet the night they took Anika.

  Crouching where they were hidden by the stone pillars at the gate, Phoenix placed the drone on a level part of the drive.

  He opened the control app on his phone and started the ignition. The four rotors started spinning, gaining speed until they were an almost invisible blur. A red diode gleamed, highlighting the inner parts of the drone’s four arms. The slight whine increased and as Phoenix guided his finger upwards on the screen, the black drone lifted off the ground and over the garden towards the house.

  ‘But it won’t be able to see anything,’ Jazz said, looking at the black fuzz on Phoenix’s screen.

  ‘Watch this,’ he whispered.

  Phoenix changed a setting and suddenly the drone transmitted a clear black-and-white picture.

  ‘Infra-red?’ Jazz asked.

  ‘Correct.’

  They both watched intently as Phoenix steered the small craft past each window of Deepwater’s upper storey, letting it linger a moment. Nothing moved inside. Only the greyish feedback of empty, derelict rooms, one with an old chair leaning against a wall, and the occasional running white form of a rat skipping across the floor.

  After they’d checked out the upper levels, they used the drone on the windows of the ground floor, following it around the old mansion outside.

  ‘Looks safe enough,’ said Phoenix as he brought the drone back to where they crouched. Once it had landed and the rotors wound down, he stowed it back in his bag.

  Keeping low, they made their stealthy way up the drive. Even though they’d been there earlier that day, things looked very different in the dark. Now the overgrown garden had a menacing feel. Strange sounds in the undergrowth made Jazz think of snakes and deadly spiders, or bats that might suddenly attack her head. Long brambly branches with vines weaving them together seemed to have grown since their visit only hours ago, and almost blocked their way.

  They ducked and pushed their way through the foliage and finally reached the overgrown terrace. Once a place for elegant lunches and afternoon teas, it was now a derelict space, infested with weeds and grass coming up between the stone flags.

  ‘Where do you think we’re supposed to meet her?’ Jazz whispered.

  Using only starlight and their night-sensitive eyes, the two investigators crept along the terrace to the front entrance. The huge front door stood ominously ajar.

  The thought of going in was not at all appealing. Jazz took a deep breath. There were some things about being a hands-on investigator that were much more fun to just read about. But no way in the world was she going to admit that to Phoenix.

  ‘Let’s go in,’ she said.

  They stepped inside and waited until their eyes had adjusted to the even darker space inside the tumbledown old mansion. The beams of their mobiles slid across the walls and ceiling showing them that once, maybe a century and a half ago, Deepwater would have been a glorious dwelling. They were standing in what would have been a large reception room, the marble fireplaces long removed. The outline of a huge mirror or painting still showed over the mantelpiece. Stained wallpaper showed signs of its original beauty in its pattern of garlanded rose wreaths and ribbons. The ceiling, collapsed in one corner, had been decorated with tiny cherubs. The floorboards creaked beneath their feet as Jazz and Phoenix crept along the main corridor.

  ‘Let’s check in all these downstairs rooms first,’ whispered Phoenix, a little intimidated by the size of the decaying mansion and the stench of damp and rot. They tiptoed from room to room only to find more decay and damp, but there was no sign of Linda Sinclair.

  ‘Upstairs it is,’ said Jazz, eyeing the semi-spiral staircase, ‘though that staircase looks pretty dodgy. I think we should stick to the sides of the steps and not put too much weight in the middle.’

  Cautiously, following the narrow beams of light from their mobiles, they moved up the once-grand curving staircase until they came to the landing, a long gallery with rooms on either side. They headed for the first room on the western side, pushing open the heavy door. Phoenix entered first. He freaked as bats, spooked by the light from the mobile, squeaked past his head.

  ‘Harden up, Phoenix,’ Jazz said, then froze as she saw Phoenix staring at her. ‘What is it?’ she asked, trying not to sound panicked. ‘Is one stuck in my hair?’

  ‘Not your hair,’ said Phoenix. ‘Bat hair!’ He ran a quick image search on his phone. ‘That’s what those hairs were that we found in Anika’s room.’

  ‘You think Anika is here?’

  Phoenix shook his head. ‘Doubt it.’

  ‘But whoever took her has been here,’ Jazz said, looking behind her. ‘Or might still be?’

  Something scurried across the floorboards as they headed to the next room. ‘Rats! Even worse! What’s next?’

  ‘With all this animal life I think we can assume there’s no-one—’ Phoenix broke off.

  ‘What is it?’ whispered Jazz. ‘Do you see someone?’

  Phoenix shook his head and pointed his torch at the floor. A set of footprints gleamed in the dust. Trailing them with the torchlight, the prints led along the floorboards of the empty room and over to the window. Discarded sweet wrappers littered the floor near the window and Jazz bent down and picked one up.

  ‘Cherry de Lix,’ she said, showing Phoenix the wrapper.

  Phoenix shook his head. ‘Never heard of them.’

  ‘Look,’ Jazz whispered. She was peering out into the darkness past the dusty windowpane with its coating of spider webs and dead insects. ‘This window looks right down on to the Belmont house. If the lights were on we’d be able to see inside their living room through that huge window.’

  ‘The kidnapper’s observation post,’ said Phoenix. A sound made them swing around from the window. ‘What was that? Linda?’

  Together, they hurried out of t
he upstairs room and crept along the wide hallway, straining to listen, trying to discover where the sound had come from. The crunch of footsteps reached them from outside.

  ‘Quick!’ said Jazz. ‘Back downstairs!’

  As fast as they dared, they stumbled down the crumbling staircase. They stopped at the bottom, listening carefully. Jazz was about to point to something on the ceiling when they heard the footsteps crunching much more clearly from the back of the house.

  ‘This way,’ said Phoenix, darting into the corridor. ‘She must be in the backyard.’ Barely breaking stride, he flung open the back door and bolted out. Jazz heard a strangled cry as Phoenix disappeared from view!

  ‘Phoenix!’ cried Jazz. Creeping forwards, she saw a yawning hole in the ground with steps leading down. A cellar! ‘Are you OK?’ Jazz heard nothing but some muffled groans. ‘I’m coming down.’ Jazz picked her way down the stairs.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Phoenix, taking Jazz’s hand as she helped him up off the floor. ‘More shocked than bruised. You didn’t need to come all the way down—’

  BANG!

  The meagre light that had drifted down into the cellar was suddenly shut out. The sound of a bolt scraping home confirmed their worst fears. Someone had blocked off the cellar opening.

  They were trapped!

  <26:57>

  Phoenix clambered up the stone steps and started banging on the covering. ‘Hey, open up!’ he cried. ‘Let us out!’

  ‘Oh, genius idea, Phoenix,’ said Jazz. ‘I’m sure whoever just locked us in here is going to turn around straightaway and let us out.’

  ‘Got a better idea?’

  ‘Yes, hello?’ said Jazz, waving her mobile phone. ‘I’ll just call for help.’ She frowned at her screen. ‘Oh no! There’s no signal.’

  ‘These walls are concrete and probably a metre thick,’ said Phoenix, checking his phone as well. ‘Damn these old houses!’

  ‘We’ve gotta get rid of this cover,’ said Jazz, shining a light from her phone to reveal a timber lid across the hole above the stairs. ‘Everything else in this place is rotting. We should be able to lift it.’