She had been tempted to go straight to Adelaide; her mum would have happily taken her in and looked after her. But she couldn’t put her family in that danger, not after what had happened to Danny’s parents. She was a curse and she needed to stay away from them. She even regretted the email she’d sent from London; it must have worried them so much.
She had so many regrets these days it was hard to know how she could start again. If only she had never been in that revolting movie. Or perhaps if she had never mentioned to Danny the under-age girls they were using for it. Maybe if she’d tried harder to convince Danny that using the information was a mistake. Or left him once and for all, like she had been thinking about doing for months. But she hadn’t saved enough money to start on her own. It all came back to money. Or so she had thought at the time.
As she pulled into the hospital car park, Charlie started to pull the seat belt over his head, making it far too easy for him to slip off the seat. She felt like a terrible carer, driving around with a baby on the front seat, the seat belt wrapped dangerously across his little body. Car seats were one of the first things people organised for their babies, to show they going to look after them properly. But she hadn’t had any sort of preparation time for Charlie’s arrival. Getting him out of the station was the one glimmer of luck she’d had in months. Everyone’s attention was on the accident that had happened on the tracks. She shuddered when she thought of what had happened at there. They’d got Katie. She could never erase the scene from her memory. Or the guilt she felt for letting it happen. The least she could do was to protect Charlie.
When she got him back to her flat, her new sanctuary, she thought for a while that he was fussing because he missed his mum. He wouldn’t stop crying, and his little face was pink and sweaty. When she tried to get him to settle in her bed, he was grizzly, and his whole body was hot. Then he started to cough, but not like a baby usually does: more like an adult, his body shuddering with the effort. She had looked after him for Katie in the past, but never known him to be so difficult. And she had no idea what to do about his fever.
She hardly got any sleep that night, crying for Katie, and listening to Charlie coughing beside her. First thing the next morning, she had taken him to the medical centre she had seen on the main road, and from there, she had been directed to take him to hospital for tests. The young paediatrician told her it was like croup, but more serious - a bacterial infection that needed to be treated with some sort of steroids. If being on the run had been difficult before, now it was an absolute nightmare. The flat was no longer safe. They had come to her door, and she had bolted without any of her things. How could they possibly have found her there? Last night she had curled up with Charlie on the back seat of the car, terrified that the men would somehow find her parked in the beachside car park. But she had to look after Charlie, and if the nurse couldn’t come to him, that meant taking him back to the hospital.
She parked the car, and scooped Charlie into her arms. Despite his tiredness from an uncomfortable sleep, he seemed to be slightly better today. He was still a bit hot, but he wasn’t crying as much, and his barking cough wasn't as frequent. The steroids might have been working; she needed to replace the ones she had left behind in the apartment. She walked quickly across the car park, hating to be out in the open, looking for the safety of the hospital’s front doors. She had grown used to being aware of her surroundings, alert to sounds and movement she ordinarily wouldn’t have noticed. And that was why she turned to look at a car, two rows from where she had parked. A man was sitting in the front seat, peering at the hospital entrance. As she met his eyes, there was a moment of recognition. It couldn’t be. Could it? Was she becoming too paranoid? The man looked exactly like the one who had come to the door of her flat. She had glimpsed him for only a moment through the spy hole in the front door before she bolted out the back. But she had always been good with faces, and she was sure it was the same man. The same blond mop of hair. The same wide blue eyes. Had he followed her here? She’d have to ditch the car. She couldn’t risk being wrong.
She ducked behind a large four wheel drive and then started to run, crouched low, along the row of cars. Between them, she could just see his car door had opened and he was getting out, stretching his neck to see where she had disappeared to. Now she was sure. It really was him. How the hell was she going to run from him here? With Charlie in her arms? The hospital entrance was still 100 metres away. She got to the end of the row. She could either sprint towards the doors of the hospital, out in the open where he could easily chase her, or stay hidden behind a car. Charlie seemed to sense her panic, and wasn’t making a sound. She craned her head around the car, trying to decide her next move. Suddenly, the man and his car were obscured by another vehicle, which pulled up just in front of it. To her amazement and relief, it was a police car. She never expected to feel relieved at seeing police! This was just the diversion she needed. She bolted towards the entrance. She was going to keep her appointment. But then she was going to get out of Sydney, once and for all. She had no idea why the police were after this man, but it had to be good news. Didn’t it?
Chapter 27
When I got up the next morning, Andy was gone, so I had the apartment to myself. And sometime during a quick shower and breakfast, a question formed in my mind that had eluded me during the fuzzy midnight hours. It was too much of a coincidence that Bill Holland had been in close contact with someone who had been in London until recently, and then been in Sydney ever since. What if Bill Holland hadn't been seen in London in weeks because he was actually in Sydney as well, chasing Sophie? He had been unaccountably missing from work for a couple of months. He hadn’t used his phone for about the same amount of time. That would mean he might have disappeared sometime between the murders of Danny and Katie. So was he missing by choice or had something happened to him? Surely if he hadn't been seen in weeks, and his employees don't know where he was, someone would have reported him missing? Was there some way to find out if he was on a missing persons list?
As I opened Liam’s laptop, I wondered if he had felt pretty stupid getting back to Newtown and realising he didn’t have his things with him. Maybe he could wear his friend’s clothes, but he’d left all his toiletries and his laptop here. I tried not to think about him too much because he was so aggravating. His laptop was useful though, even more useful than him at the moment. The easiest way to find out if Bill Holland was missing was to call the police in London. But now I knew they were looking for Sophie, I'd have to avoid that avenue. So, instead, I'd have to rely on the internet to help me. The search for ‘missing people UK’ came up with quite a few useless references, but there was one website down the list that looked like it might be useful: www.missingpeople.org.uk.
The website looked quite professional. It explained that it was linked to a successful TV show, ‘Missing Live’, on the BBC. But as I searched around the site, reading their information about contacting them and requesting information, I found I didn’t know enough about Bill Holland, not his address, date of birth, his parents’ names or even if he was single, married, had children or anything. This could be a problem. Looking at other similar sites didn’t help. Most directed people to the police. Not helpful. However, they all seemed to have a page where you could contact representatives with information about a missing person, or questions about someone you are looking for. Maybe that was worth a try.
I was filling in my sixth query, wondering if this was a useless exercise, when my phone rang. It was Liam. What now?
‘Hi Liam.’ I tried to sound cheerful as I answered the phone, hoping to find him in a better mood.
But this wasn’t the case. He was so angry I could feel the rage through the phone as he spat, ‘What the fuck have you been doing with my laptop?’
Oh dear. ‘What do you mean? I’ve been doing some investigating on the internet...’
‘Have you been emailing people? Using my address? Sending threatening emails?’ His voic
e was high pitched, an accusing barrage of questions spewing out.
‘Are you talking about the email I sent to Matthew Harrison-Brown?’ I kept my voice steady. The calmer I sounded, the less guilty I would seem...
‘Who the hell is that? The police took me in for questioning for fuck’s sake!’
‘Questioning? What for? Sending an email?’
‘They thought I had something to do with some blackmail bullshit. I had no clue what they were talking about. But you’ve no idea what you’ve done, Ellen. I missed Sophie because of all this!’
‘What do you mean you missed her?’
‘I saw her, this morning, at the hospital. She was crossing the other side of the car park. She had Charlie with her. But the police were trying to talk to me just when I spotted her. I tried to run and find her, but they got really pissed off, and almost handcuffed me. I had to go with them to the station.’
‘Shit! Shit shit shit! You can’t be serious! I can explain to them it was me...’ I offered, knowing I didn’t want to. The last thing I needed was the police talking to me about the email. But then the reality of what he had said forced its way into my consciousness. We had missed Sophie again!
‘Oh Liam, I’m so sorry…’
But Liam wasn’t listening. He was too upset. ‘It was my one chance Ellen, I waited all that time and now she’s gone.’
Liam sounded bitter and angry, but also really distressed. Before I was able to work out what to say, or to apologise again, he hung up. I didn’t blame him. It wasn’t the moment to point out that it wasn’t his one chance, it was his second. What chance was there of finding her a third time? I felt terrible. If it was Liam's fault we missed Sophie at the apartment, it was definitely my mistake this time. The email had been a stupid thing to do. Liam had every right to be angry. I wondered if I would ever hear from him again. Would he still want to keep looking for Sophie, now that we had made two disastrous attempts to catch up to her? The way he said ‘she’s gone’ sounded like he was completely devastated. Like all hope was lost. It was the way someone would respond to hearing their relative or best friend was lost, not the daughter of a client.
As the news started to really sink in, it suddenly occurred to me that Sophie would always run from Liam. She had no idea who he was, and she was terrified of strangers who were trying to kill her. I should have been there. She would have known she was safe if she had seen me. I felt like burying myself in my bed, and not getting up again. Liam was right, the search for Sophie was more important than my investigations into who might be trying to hurt her. I thought I was in control, but I wasn’t. I thought I was getting good at probing into people’s lives, but I’d stuffed it. And I had no idea what to do next.
As if answering my thoughts, my phone rang. It was mum. I felt guilty as I said hello. I had been putting off speaking to her, because I hated to hear the lift of hope in her voice when she heard it was me. It was as if she inhaled, ready to hear we’d found her, and then plunged back into the depths of despair when I said we hadn’t. But now I was down there with her, so it couldn’t make me feel any worse to deliver the bad news about the latest sighting. I explained to her what had happened that day, and as disappointed as she sounded, she tried to make me feel better.
‘The bright side is that we know she is still ok, and she is still looking after Charlie.’
‘Yeah, I guess we should be pleased about that,’ I conceded.
Mum suddenly went silent, and I thought for a moment the call had dropped out.
'Mum, are you there?' I asked.
'There's something I need to tell you. That's why I called.' Her voice sounded strange, like she was unsure whether she should still be talking, but was forcing herself to.
'What is it?' I asked, impatient at how long it was taking her to speak.
'I got another email. From Sophie.'
‘What? 'When? Did she say where she was?' Mum's sigh told me all I needed to know. It was another useless message. 'Read it to me,' I ordered, ignoring any obligation to be polite to my mother.
'It was sent early this morning, but I only got it just now.'
'What does it say mum?'
“They are going to kill you if you keep looking for them. Just leave me. I don't want anything to happen to you. They are more dangerous than you think”.
How does Sophie know what I'm doing?
Mum sounded panicked now, reading the email aloud seemed to cement its meaning for her.
'Sophie knows you are in danger. You have to come home. Please Ellen. No more phone calls and emails.' Mum was begging now. She sounded like she was at the end of her tether.
'How do you know she sent it?' I asked.
'It's from the same address as the last one...actually, not exactly the same, but almost. [email protected]. There's an extra five. If the address was shut down like you said it was...'
'She might have opened a new one. Ok. I've got to go. Can you please forward that email to my Yahoo account? I'm not coming home without Sophie.' I hung up. Mum wouldn't call back; she would be too upset to argue.
How could Sophie warn me off like that! Why wouldn't she just tell me where she was! Just because she didn't want me looking for the people who were after her, didn't mean I had to stop looking for her.
I felt all alone, and finding out Sophie didn't want me looking for her just made me feel worse. I started to cry, and my tears quickly turned into sobs as I thought about how close we had come to having Sophie back with us. I loved mum for trying not to sound disappointed at hearing how I had stuffed up the search. She sounded petrified about the email. As if it was a sign something was going to happen to me. She had spent thousands of dollars on the search, and had no more to spend. Picasso’s funds weren’t going to pay the mortgage for long. And Sophie was still out there, hunted by faceless, murderous thugs, who were looking for me now too.
As my mind tried to grab onto something other than failure and fear, it found leverage on Bill Holland. There was no way I was giving up on finding these people, no matter what Sophie wanted. Bill Holland had to be involved, whether he was a victim or a suspect. I blew my nose and tried to focus. I had got nowhere in my roundabout attempts to find out if Bill was really missing. Direct action would make me feel better. It was time for more phone calls. I hadn’t got much information from Lucy at his club, so I would give her another call. This time I used my mobile phone, with its new-found private number setting.
The club phone rang for longer than last time, and just as I was starting to wonder if they were open late every night of the week, a woman picked up. It wasn’t Lucy. The background noise was the same, but this person had a deeper voice; she sounded older, and spoke slower.
‘Cosmo Club.’
‘Hi, is that Lucy?’ I asked, knowing it wasn’t, but trying to suggest a sense of familiarity.
‘No, Lucy’s not in tonight, this is Linda.’ Linda didn’t speak with the same sense of urgency I had detected in Lucy’s voice. Maybe a phone call in the office was a welcome break from working behind the bar.
‘Hi Linda, I’m a friend of Bill’s, and I am wondering if he’s been in lately. I can’t get onto him on his mobile, and he’s not answering his home phone.’ Linda laughed, not showing any of the concern Lucy had when I asked about Bill’s whereabouts.
‘You’re not the first girl I’ve spoken to who’s looking for him tonight, love.’
‘Oh, really? That’s a coincidence. Who was looking for him? I’m starting to get a bit worried about him. I’m just a friend, not a girlfriend or anything.’
‘It was some girl called Lena, or Karina, or something like that. She dropped in a couple of hours ago. It’s the fourth time she’s been in this week, looking for her friend. Veronica, she said the name was. Odd thing is, she thought this Veronica worked here. I’ve been here since we opened, and I know which girls are on the roster. There was never no Veronica.’
‘Why do you think she thought her friend worked there?’
‘No idea. I told her she was mistaken, and that’s when she asked about Bill. She knew he owned the place. She said her friend lived at his place, and that she needed to speak to him urgently…’
‘But you haven’t seen Bill either…’ I guessed.
‘Exactly. I told her the same thing I’ll tell you. I haven’t seen him for weeks. Not that I mind. He isn’t exactly the most proactive boss. We get paid by the manager here, that’s all we care about. Bill only comes in here to drink. He never actually does any work.’
Linda didn’t seem to care that she was badmouthing her boss to one of his friends. She actually sounded like she was enjoying having a good old fashioned bitch. So I held my breath and hoped for some new pieces of the puzzle to emerge.
‘It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d gone on holiday, and just not told any of us.’
‘So when was the last time you saw him?’
‘Can’t remember, love. It must have been several weeks ago. Some of the other girls here have commented that they haven’t seen him for a while either, but no one is that concerned.’
Times of Trouble Page 22