Jazz got into position on the stair beside Phoenix. The two of them raised their bent arms until they had the palms of their hands flat on the underside of the timber cover.
‘On the count of three, push as hard as you can. Put everything into it, OK?’ Phoenix said.
‘You bet.’
‘One, two, three—push!’
Jazz pushed with all her might. ‘Ouch!’ she cried. ‘My wrist!’ She shook it out and rubbed it for a moment, then said, ‘That’s better. But the lid didn’t budge!’ She put her mouth near the cover and shouted, ‘Help! Somebody! Anybody! Help us!’
‘Like you said, genius idea,’ said Phoenix. ‘Let’s push again.’
Still the cover did not move. Their combined efforts only resulted in rocks and stones falling from the housing around the lid.
‘Ouch!’ Jazz yelled, as a stone hit her on the head.
Over and over they tried, even taking turns on a higher step to push the cover with the strength of their backs. For the next hour they strained against the hatch, but it wouldn’t budge.
Finally, Phoenix dropped down and sat, dejected and in darkness, on the steps. ‘This isn’t working,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to think of something else. What if no-one comes close to this cellar for days?’
‘We’re not going to be able to help Anika!’ Jazz bit her lip, refusing to give in to the tears that threatened. The darkness of the cellar didn’t help her feeling of hopelessness but they were trying to conserve their phone batteries. A thought struck. ‘The cameras!’
‘What cameras?’ asked Phoenix, wearily.
‘You didn’t notice the security camera above the back door?’
‘No!’ He paused. ‘Why is that a good thing?’
‘Maybe security will see us and come and rescue us.’
‘Arrest us for trespassing more likely.’
Jazz leant back in exhaustion against the unyielding hard stone that walled the cellar. She didn’t want to be arrested, but the alternative was far worse. What if nobody ever came? What if they were down here for days? They had no water. Nothing to eat.
A stone hit her hard on the head and she felt like screaming in frustration and fear. ‘There can’t be many more stones left in the wall on each side of the steps. They all seem to have fallen on my head,’ she said bitterly.
‘Brilliant!’ cried Phoenix as he jumped up and hit his head on the cellar cover. ‘Jazz, you are brilliant! We should have thought of this earlier.’
Jazz heard him go down the steps and start crawling around on the dirt-floored cellar.
‘This oughta do it,’ he said.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘A tool,’ Phoenix said as he came back up the stairs wielding a rusty old set of hedge clippers. ‘If we can use this to dislodge the stone housing around the timber—’
‘I get it! We could loosen the cover!’ Jazz blurted with excitement. ‘Let’s do it!’
Phoenix was already in position back on the third step but instead of banging at the cover, he started chiselling away at the join between the sandstone blocks which held the cover in place. When he tired, Jazz took over while he rested. When she needed a break, Phoenix took over again. It seemed to take forever but finally, the big stone block on the right-hand side underneath the timber cover started to move just a little when they pushed it. This gave both of them renewed vigour and although their hands were sore and rubbed raw they kept at it.
Now they could see a crack of dim moonlight which got wider and wider as the stone got looser and looser.
‘I think we’re just about there,’ said Phoenix. He gave one more shove, then yelled, ‘Look out!’ as they flattened themselves against the wall. There was a huge crashing sound and the big stone block smashed its way down the steps, coming to a thudding halt at the bottom. Phoenix gave a hoot of triumph and squeezed his way out through the narrow hole. Jazz followed, pushing herself through and out into the refreshing night air.
‘We did it! We’re free!’ she cheered. ‘Let’s get outta here!’
<24:54>
Phoenix sat slumped on the verge, a few houses down from Deepwater, exhaustion and fear showing on his face. ‘That was close,’ he said.
‘I think we’re the ones getting too close,’ said Jazz. ‘It must have been the kidnapper who locked us in after luring us here with that fake message from Linda Sinclair.’
‘There’s something weird going on here,’ said Phoenix. ‘How did the person claiming to be Linda Sinclair get hold of your phone number to leave the phoney text message?’
Their phones started pinging with messages they had missed while locked underground. Jazz checked the notifications. ‘Oops,’ she said guiltily. ‘My mum’s been calling.’
‘No such luck for me,’ said Phoenix. ‘I wonder sometimes if they’d notice if I didn’t come home at all.’
‘If only!’ said Jazz. ‘If my mum could legally put a tracking device on me, she would.’
Phoenix stared at her.
‘Um . . . are you OK?’ she asked.
‘Quick, what’s Anika’s blog address again?’ he demanded.
‘What are you doing?’ Jazz asked as Phoenix logged on to Anika’s blog site once more.
‘A tracking device—those emoticons. It’s obvious.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Phoenix raced to the first of Anonymous’s comments and tapped on the emoticon. ‘See that?’
He copied the URL address to a text editor and Jazz leant over to see.
‘Oh no!’ she whispered. ‘Is that what I think it is?’
‘Jazz, that emoticon isn’t just a winking smiley face—it’s a tracker! Whoever’s running that tracker records everyone who logs on to this blog, and at the moment that’s you and me. You know that every device connected to the internet is assigned a unique address? An IP address? Anonymous has been watching us all this time!’
Jazz’s eyes widened at what Phoenix was saying. ‘But how did Anonymous know to pay attention to us, and not the other online followers?’
‘Jazz,’ he went on urgently, ‘when did you first look at Anika’s blog of the journal?’
‘Today, at the gym.’
‘And I first looked at it when you told me about those weird comments.’ Phoenix paused, his mind racing. ‘I know how they got on to us! So suddenly, Anonymous sees these two usernames appearing and all they’re reading are the journal entries. They don’t look at anything else, like Anika’s stories. So, assuming Anonymous knows something about Anika’s kidnapping, they might be wondering why we picked today to suddenly get so interested. Right away they’ve got our locations and it’s just a matter of time before they find out our real names . . . and addresses.’
A jolt of fear went through Jazz’s body, shocking every cell. All the time they’d been trying to work out the identity of the killer and the kidnapper, this evil person had been watching them as they logged on, gathering information about them, tracking them down.
‘So are we saying that this Anonymous might know the kidnapper?’ she whispered in horror.
‘Either that or Anonymous could be the kidnapper,’ said Phoenix.
The night seemed to close more tightly around them. Jazz unclenched her fists, realising that the fear had made her whole body tense. They both nearly jumped out of their skins when their stunned silence was suddenly shattered by Jazz’s phone ringing. Puzzled by the unfamiliar number, she answered it with trembling fingers.
A horrible hissing voice filled her ears: ‘I know who you both are and I know where you and your families live. Back off. Both of you. You know I’ve killed before and I’ll kill again—anyone who gets in my way. Anyone! Consider this the only warning you’re going to get.’
Phoenix, alerted by Jazz’s shocked face, grabbed her mobile and listened—but the line was dead. ‘What did they say?’ Phoenix demanded.
Jazz repeated the words to him in a shaky voice.
‘It was a warnin
g and a threat as well.’ Phoenix stood up. ‘Let’s move.’ He kept talking as they walked, his voice less certain. ‘My dad always says, “If you can walk away from a fight, do.” We’re being threatened by the kidnapper who’s possibly killed before. If we keep investigating, we could get hurt or make a mess of things and put Anika’s life in even more danger.’
‘Do you think we should walk away now?’ asked Jazz, half disappointed, half relieved at his words. They’d both done a lot of work so far, maybe they should hand over what they knew to the proper authorities. But what if telling the police only put Anika in more danger?
‘I prefer my boxing coach, Simon’s, saying: if you can’t walk away from a fight, take it on with everything you’ve got. Don’t give up until the end—whatever that might be.’ Phoenix paused. ‘That’s our choice.’
‘I’m scared,’ said Jazz, frightened further by his words, glancing around as they reached her house. A new and even more frightening realisation hit her.
‘Phoenix, even if we stop our investigation now that the killer knows we’re onto them, do you really think they’re going to leave us alone?’
Phoenix shook his head. ‘Whoever it is can’t afford to let us stay around. We know too much. And they know we know too much.’ He lowered his voice. ‘We’ll have to be eliminated.’
Jazz raised her face to look at his, knowing that it would be like looking into a mirror—both of them pale with shock and terror. The sudden shrieking of a night-bird made them both jump.
‘They’re going to come after us,’ she whispered, ‘so now we can’t just give up. Even if we wanted to. Not if we want to survive.’
‘So we don’t really have a choice at all,’ said Phoenix. ‘We’ve got to give it everything we have. It’s not only Anika’s life that’s on the line. It’s ours too.’
‘What’s your plan?’ Jazz asked.
‘We start with the kidnapper’s own tracking device. Using it, we can track them! All I need is the right program. I’ll do it as soon as I get home. This is great.’ Phoenix was visibly brightening as he spoke. ‘And the best bit is they won’t be expecting us to come after them! They’ll be thinking we’ve crawled back home to our families to hide.’
‘OK,’ Jazz said, feeling a little more hopeful. ‘We’ll have to be really careful.’
‘Of course we’ll be careful. Three people’s lives depend on it.’
Jazz snuck upstairs, relieved not to bump into her mother. I could be in a lot of trouble tomorrow, she thought, but right now I’ve got to crash.
Jazz’s sleep wasn’t restful, haunted by dreams of Anika and an unseen, hissing monster that had taken her friend in the night. Strange humanoid figures with animal features drifted through them. She kept waking up in fits of anxiety, worried she was trapped in the dark cellar again, before falling back into another restless doze.
The next time she woke up, her alarm clock said it was 4.00 am. More than half of the vital first 48HOURS had slipped away.
The thought that the kidnapper had been electronically following them all the time caused her to sit up suddenly in the darkness. The kidnapper knew where she lived. The kidnapper had come for Anika in the middle of the night. What if he came for her?
It wasn’t until dawn brought relief from the dark, and the chirp of morning birds drove away the dreadful sounds she’d been imagining, that Jazz was able to fall back into a troubled sleep.
<15:00>
The chime of her mobile woke Jazz later that morning. It was Phoenix, sounding excited.
‘The tracker on the emoticon worked! I’ve got an address in Sunshine Beach.’
‘Just like Debbie Chandler said!’ exclaimed Jazz, instantly wide awake.
‘It matches one I looked up yesterday—C Sinclair.’
‘But his initial isn’t C. It’s N.’
‘It’s a Sinclair. We need to get out there and suss the place out! Can you meet me at the gym in thirty minutes?’
Before Jazz could ask how they were going to get to Sunshine Beach, Phoenix was gone.
She headed downstairs for breakfast. Helping herself to some cereal in the empty kitchen, she felt a brief hope that her mother might have already gone out for the day, saving any awkward explanations.
‘You got home late last night,’ said her mum, startling her as she appeared at the door of the kitchen. ‘I couldn’t sleep a wink for worrying about you.’
You’re not the only one, thought Jazz.
‘You don’t seem to be taking my concerns very seriously. Don’t you realise how important it is for me to know where you are, and preferably to know that you’re safely here at home?’
Jazz decided against mentioning that Anika had been ‘safely at home’ when she was kidnapped. She couldn’t tell her mum and she felt awful about it still. But who knows who her mum might feel she had to tell, and if the police found out . . .
Her mother noticed Jazz’s bag on the bench. ‘Where do you think you’re going now?’
‘I’m sorry about last night, Mum, but today’s really important. I have to—’
‘Have to what?’ Her mother sighed. ‘Jazmine, please tell me you’re not going out again. You’ve been running yourself ragged. Why don’t you stay home and we can go to a movie this afternoon?’
There were so many things Jazz wanted to say, like the fact that her best friend was missing and no-one else was doing the investigating so she had to. She hated lying to her mother, but to tell her the truth would have been to send her worry levels into overdrive. She knew she would also have to lie about her plans for the day.
‘I need to go to Mack’s. She’s already having a tough time and she’s pretty upset about Anika too.’ Jazz realised her mistake as soon as she spoke, but her mum unwittingly came to her rescue.
‘Has Mack been dragged into this fight between you and Anika?’
Jazz nodded, miserably.
‘OK then, you can go,’ her mum relented. ‘But please try and sort this out sooner than later. You need to stick with your good friends in high school. It’s not worth losing them over some silly project. And Jazz?’
‘Yes, Mum?’
‘Don’t be back late!’
Jazz hurried over to Phoenix as soon as she arrived at Schmick n Fit. ‘So what’s the plan?’ she asked. ‘How do we get to Sunshine Beach from here?’
Phoenix nodded to where Simon was finishing up a session in the ring. ‘You heard what he said yesterday; he’s happy to help.’
Jazz gave a doubtful frown. ‘We can’t tell him anything about what we’re doing, Phoenix.’
‘I know that,’ he said with an exasperated sigh. ‘Let me do the talking.’
Simon smiled at them as they walked over. ‘Shall I leave these on?’ he asked, indicating his boxing gloves.
‘Actually I was thinking of a different kind of session today,’ replied Phoenix. ‘Fancy a trip to the beach?’
Simon looked from Jazz to Phoenix, confused. ‘What are you two up to?’
‘It’s all part of that, ah, homework we were doing here yesterday. We just need a ride. Unless, of course, you want to lend me your ute.’
‘Ha!’ scoffed Simon. ‘No P-plater’s taking that baby out for a spin. Just give us a sec to cool off and I’ll be right with you.’
Phoenix gave Jazz a triumphant wink as he steered her towards the car park.
Jazz navigated as Simon drove. When they reached the right street, they slowed down, looking for street numbers.
‘422, 418, 410—there, 406, that’s it. Pull up down the street a bit.’
They scoped the building as they drove past. It was a two-storey house with a double garage beside it. This stood behind a chest-high stone fence lined with bushes to provide privacy to the front lawns.
‘Pretty ritzy,’ Phoenix muttered.
‘Do friends of yours live here?’ asked Simon, eyeing off the flashy street.
‘Not a friend, exactly,’ said Phoenix.
‘We’re here to . .
. pick something up,’ added Jazz.
Simon eyed them both. ‘I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything.’
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I did!’ said Phoenix. ‘I’ll catch you back at the gym,’ he added, opening the car door and stepping out on to the footpath.
‘Thanks for the lift,’ said Jazz, then she followed Phoenix out of the car. They watched as the ute drove away, Simon giving a toot of the horn before turning the corner.
‘Look,’ said Jazz, ‘there’s a cafe right across the street from Sinclair’s house. We can stake it out from there.’
Phoenix gave a nod, but they hadn’t even made it to the entrance when movement from across the road caught their eyes.
The garage door lifted completely to reveal a large vehicle nosing its way out.
Jazz gasped. ‘A green SUV!’
‘And its passenger-side door is scratched! That’s our guy! It’s the kidnapper!’ Phoenix said.
Jazz made to cross the road.
‘Where are you going?’ hissed Phoenix.
‘Anika could be in there! We’ve got to get inside!’ she called back.
As the car roared off, the automatic garage door started rumbling down. Phoenix made a split-second decision, then followed Jazz across the road. They raced up the driveway and ducked under the garage roller door just before it closed, the thunk echoing around the dimly lit space.
<13:30>
Inside the garage, they looked around at the shelves of tools and spare parts.
‘Did you get a look at the driver?’ Phoenix asked her.
‘No. Did you?’
Phoenix shook his head.
Jazz went over to a pair of workboots which stood along the wall near the front of the garage. She picked them up. ‘Yes! Size twelve Hardywear! Here, hold them so I can see the bottom of them,’ she said to Phoenix.
Jazz got out her tablet and opened up the CrimeSeen app, and compared the sole of the boots to the picture of the boot print they’d found in the Belmonts’ laundry.
The Vanishing Page 8