by Jane Harper
‘I thought you were supposed to be staying with your dad?’ he said.
Margot gave a tiny shrug, her eyes down. ‘I wanted to come home.’ She held a mobile phone and was turning it over in her hands like a worry bead.
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Since this morning.’
‘You can’t be here alone,’ Falk said. ‘Does your dad know?’
‘He’s at work.’ Tears welled in her eyes but didn’t spill over. ‘Have you found my mum?’
‘Not yet. But they’re looking hard.’
‘Look harder.’ Her voice wobbled and Carmen led her to a kitchen stool.
‘Sit down. Where do you keep your glasses? I’ll get you some water.’
Margot pointed at a cupboard, still fiddling with her phone.
Falk pulled up a stool and sat opposite her. ‘Margot, do you know that man who was here before?’ he said. ‘The one knocking on the door?’
‘Daniel? Yeah, of course.’ There was an uneasy note in her tone. ‘He’s Joel’s dad.’
‘Who’s Joel?’
‘My ex-boyfriend.’ A definite inflection on the ex.
‘Did you speak to Daniel Bailey just then? Did he say why he was here?’
‘No. I don’t want anything to do with him. I know what he wanted.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘He’s looking for Joel.’
‘Are you sure?’ Falk said. ‘It wasn’t anything to do with your mum?’
‘My mum?’ Margot looked at him as though he was an idiot. ‘My mum’s not here. She’s missing.’
‘I know. But how can you be sure why Daniel came here?’
‘How can I be sure?’ Margot gave a strange strangled laugh. ‘Because of what Joel’s done. He’s been really busy online.’ She gripped her phone so hard the skin on her hands turned white. Then she took a breath and held it out so Falk could see. ‘I suppose you may as well see. Everyone else has.’
The Margot on the screen looked older. Her makeup was done and her hair was loose and shining. And the jeans were gone. The photos were surprisingly clear for such low lighting. The school had been right, Falk thought. They were definitely explicit.
Margot stared down at the screen, her face blotchy and her eyes red.
‘How long have these been online?’ Falk said.
‘I think since yesterday lunchtime. There are two videos as well.’ She blinked hard. ‘They’ve already had more than a thousand views since then.’
Carmen put a glass of water in front of Margot. ‘And you think Joel Bailey posted them?’
‘He’s the only one who had them. Or he was, at least.’
‘And that’s him with you in the photos?’
‘He thinks they’re funny. But he promised me he’d deleted them. I made him show me his phone to prove it. I don’t know, he must have saved them.’ She was rambling now, the words falling over each other. ‘We took them last year, before we broke up. Just for –’ a humourless twitch of the mouth, ‘for fun. It was supposed to be fun anyway. When we broke up, I didn’t hear from him for a long time, but then he messaged me last week. He wanted me to send him some more.’
‘Did you tell anyone? Your mum?’ Carmen said.
‘No.’ Margot’s eyes were incredulous. ‘As if I would. I told Joel to get lost. But he kept messaging. He said I should send him new ones, or he’d show his friends the old ones. I told him he was full of shit.’ She shook her head. ‘He’d promised me he’d deleted them.’
She put a hand to her face and finally the tears spilled over, sliding down her face as her shoulders heaved. She couldn’t speak for a long while.
‘But he lied.’ It was hard to hear her. ‘And now they’re out there and everyone has seen them.’
She covered her face and cried as Carmen put a hand out and rubbed her back. Falk made a note of the website on Margot’s screen and emailed the details to a colleague in the cyber division.
Uploaded without consent, he wrote. Age 16. Do your best re: removal.
He didn’t hold out much hope. They could probably get the images taken down from the original site, but that didn’t help if they’d already been shared. He was reminded of an old proverb. Something about trying to catch feathers scattered in the wind.
After a long while, Margot blew her nose and wiped her eyes.
‘I really want to talk to my mum,’ she said in a tiny voice.
‘I know,’ Falk said. ‘And they’re searching for her, right now. But Margot, you can’t stay here alone. We need to call your dad and get him to take you home.’
Margot shook her head. ‘No. Please. Please don’t call my dad.’
‘We have to –’
‘Please. I don’t want to see him. I can’t stay with him tonight.’
‘Margot –’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
The girl reached out and to Falk’s surprise gripped his wrist, her fingers vicelike. She looked him in the eye and spoke through bared teeth.
‘Listen to me. I cannot go to my dad’s because I cannot face him. Do you understand?’
The only sound was the tick of the kitchen clock. Everyone has seen them. He nodded. ‘I understand.’
They had to promise they’d find somewhere else for Margot to stay before she would agree to pack an overnight bag.
‘Where can I go?’ she’d asked. It was a good question. She’d shaken her head when they’d asked her for the name of another relative or friend she was willing to stay with. ‘I don’t want to see anyone.’
‘We could probably line up some sort of emergency foster care,’ Falk said in a low voice. They were standing in the hallway. Margot had finally agreed to gather a few things and the sound of her crying floated from her bedroom and down the stairs. ‘I don’t feel good about handballing her over to a stranger, though, not in the state she’s in.’
Carmen held her phone in her hand. She’d been trying to get through to Margot’s dad. ‘What about Lauren’s place?’ she said finally. ‘Just a thought. It’s only for one night. At least she’s aware of the photo situation.’
‘Yeah, maybe,’ Falk said.
‘Okay.’ Carmen glanced up the stairs. ‘You try to call Lauren. I’m going to have a chat with Margot about where her mother might keep confidential documents.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes now. It might be the only chance we get.’
Get the contracts. Get the contracts.
‘Yeah. Okay.’
Carmen disappeared up the stairs and Falk took out his phone, wandering back into the kitchen as he dialled the number. Outside the large windows, the afternoon was already growing dark. The cloud patterns were reflected in the smooth surface of the pool.
He leaned against the kitchen counter and stared at a cork noticeboard on the wall as he put the phone to his ear. A number of a handyman had been pinned to the board, alongside a recipe for something called quinoa power balls written in Alice’s handwriting. There was an invitation to the Endeavour Ladies’ College awards night which had come and gone last Sunday, the same day Alice was reported missing. A receipt for a pair of shoes. An Executive Adventures leaflet with the weekend’s dates scribbled across the top.
Falk leaned in a little closer. On the cover of the leaflet, he could make out Ian Chase in the back row of a group staff shot. Chase was turned a little away from the camera, partially obscured by the colleague to his right.
The phone line was still ringing in his ear and his eyes wandered to a number of framed photo collages lining the kitchen walls. The pictures were all of Alice and her daughter, separately or together. Many of the shots mirrored each other – Alice and Margot as babies, on their first days of school, at dances, lying by pools in bikinis.
In Falk’s ear, the ringing sto
pped and went through to Lauren’s voicemail. He swore silently and left a message asking her to call him as soon as possible.
As he hung up he leaned in to look more closely at the nearest collage. A partly faded image had caught his eye. It was an outdoor shot in a setting that reminded him a little of the Giralang Ranges. Alice was wearing a t-shirt and shorts bearing the Endeavour Ladies’ College logo, and was standing beside a raging river, head up, kayak paddle in her hand and a smile on her face. Behind her, a group of damp-haired, rosy-cheeked girls were crouched by the vessel. Falk’s gaze snagged on the girl at the end, and he made a small noise of surprise. Lauren, he realised. The pinched look she wore now was buried beneath a layer of puppy fat, but like Alice, she was still entirely recognisable, especially around the eyes. That photo must be thirty years old, he thought. It was interesting how little they’d both changed.
His mobile trilled loudly in his hand, and he jumped. He looked at the screen – Lauren – and forced himself back to the present.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked as soon as he answered. ‘Have they found her?’
‘No, shit, I’m sorry. It’s not about Alice,’ Falk said, kicking himself. He should have made that clear in his message. ‘We’ve got a problem with her daughter. She needs somewhere to stay for tonight.’ He explained about the online images.
There was such a long silence, Falk wondered if they’d been disconnected. Playground politics were something of a mystery to him, but as he listened to the dead air, he wondered just how fast the school mums would move to distance their offspring from Margot.
‘She’s not handling it too well,’ he said finally. ‘Especially with everything with her mum.’
Another silence, shorter this time.
‘You’d better bring her around.’ Lauren sighed. ‘Jesus. These girls. I swear, they will eat themselves alive.’
‘Thank you.’ Falk hung up and headed down the hall. Opposite the stairs, a door opened onto a study. Carmen was sitting behind a desk staring at the home computer. She looked up as Falk entered.
‘Margot gave me the password.’ Her voice was low and he shut the door behind him.
‘Anything?’
Carmen shook her head. ‘Not that I can find. I’m searching blind, though. Even if Alice did save anything useful on here, she could have called the files anything, put them in any directory. We’ll need to get the permits in place to take this away. Get it searched properly.’ She sighed and looked up. ‘What did Lauren say?’
‘She said yes. Eventually. She wasn’t too keen though.’
‘Why, because of the photos?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe partly. Maybe not though, it sounded before like she has enough trouble with her own kid.’
‘Yeah, that’s true. She won’t be the first or last to judge Margot over this though, you watch.’ Carmen glanced at the closed door and lowered her voice. ‘Please do not tell Margot I said that.’
Falk shook his head. ‘I’ll go and let her know the plan.’
Margot’s bedroom door was open and he could see the girl sitting on her hot pink carpet. She had a small suitcase open in front of her. It was completely empty. She was staring down into her lap at her phone and she jumped as Falk knocked on the doorframe.
‘We’ve arranged for you to stay at Lauren Shaw’s tonight,’ Falk said, and Margot looked up in surprise.
‘Really?’
‘Just for tonight. She knows what’s going on.’
‘Will Rebecca be there?’
‘Her daughter? Probably. Is that okay?’
Margot picked at the corner of her suitcase. ‘Just that I haven’t seen them in a while. Does Rebecca know what’s happened?’
‘I imagine her mum will tell her.’
Margot looked like she wanted to say something, but shook her head. ‘That’s fair enough, I suppose.’
There was something about the way she said it. Daughter’s mouth, mother’s voice. Falk blinked, again feeling strangely unnerved.
‘Okay. Well. It’s only for one night.’ He gestured at the empty case. ‘Pack a couple of things and we’ll drive you over.’
Distracted, Margot reached out and grabbed two garish lace bras from a pile on the floor. She held them in her hand, then looked up, watching him watching her. Something flickered across her face. A test.
He kept his eyes firmly on hers, his expression completely blank.
‘We’ll wait for you in the kitchen,’ he said, feeling a wave of relief as he shut the door on the cloying pink room. When had teenage girls become so sexualised? Had they been like that at his age? Probably, he thought, except back then he had been all in favour of it. At that age, a lot of things seemed like harmless fun.
Day 3: Saturday Afternoon
For once, Beth was sorry when the rain stopped.
While it had been drumming down on the cabin roof, it had been difficult to talk. The five women had spread themselves out around the larger of the two rooms and stayed that way as the late afternoon wind blew in through the missing windows. It wasn’t actually a lot warmer inside than out, Beth admitted privately, but at least it was mostly dry. She was glad they had stayed. When the rain eventually petered out, the silence draped itself thick and heavy around the cabin.
Beth shifted, feeling a little claustrophobic. She could see one edge of the mattress in the other room. ‘I’m going to take a look around outside.’
‘I’ll come,’ Bree said. ‘I need the loo.’
Lauren stirred herself. ‘Me too.’
Outside, the air was crisp and damp. As Beth pulled the cabin door shut behind her, she heard Alice mutter something inaudible to Jill. Whatever she’d said, Jill didn’t reply.
Bree was pointing across the small clearing. ‘Oh my God, is that literally an outhouse?’
The tiny shack stood some distance away, its roof rotted and one side open to the elements.
‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ Lauren said. ‘It’ll be a hole in the ground.’
Beth watched her sister pick her way through the overgrowth to the ramshackle structure. Bree peered inside and recoiled with a squeal. The sisters caught each other’s eye and laughed for what felt to Beth like the first time in days. Years even.
‘Oh, God. Just, no,’ Bree called.
‘Shitty?’
‘Spidery. Don’t do it to yourself. Some things can’t be unseen. I’ll take my chances in the bush.’
She turned and disappeared among the trees. Lauren managed a smile and tramped off in the opposite direction, leaving Beth alone. The light was already fading, the sky turning a deeper grey.
They had been lucky to find the cabin at all, Beth realised now the rain had cleared. There were two or three gaps in the trees that might once have been trails, but nothing that encouraged visitors to discover the clearing. Beth felt suddenly edgy and glanced around for the others. They were nowhere to be seen. Birds cried to each other above her head, high-pitched and urgent, but when she looked up they were all hidden from sight.
Beth reached into her pocket for her cigarettes. She’d found the pack submerged in a puddle after Alice had thrown it. It had been ruined, soaked through by the dirty water, but she hadn’t wanted to give Alice the satisfaction of admitting it.
Her fingers wrapped around the edge of the box, the sharp corners now soggy, and she felt the clamouring call of nicotine. She opened the pack and checked yet again that the cigarettes were beyond saving. The damp smell of tobacco sparked something in her and all at once it was unbearable to have them so near and yet so far. She felt like crying. Of course she didn’t want to be an addict. Not to the cigarettes, or to anything else.
Beth hadn’t even known she was pregnant when she’d miscarried. She’d sat in the sterile room in the university’s medical clinic while the doctor explained that it was not uncommon within the fir
st twelve weeks. She probably hadn’t been very far along. And there was very little she could have done to avoid it. Sometimes these things happened.
Beth had nodded. The thing was, she’d explained in a small voice, she’d been out drinking. Most weekends. Some weekdays. She had been one of the only girls doing her computer science degree at the time and the guys on the course were good fun. They were young and smart and they all planned to invent the next big dot com thing, become millionaires and retire by thirty. But until that happened, they liked to drink and dance and take soft drugs and stay out late and flirt with the girl who, at age twenty, still looked a lot like her eye-catching twin sister. And Beth had enjoyed those things too. Maybe, in hindsight, a little too much.
She had confessed to all her vices that day under the bright lights of the sterile clinic room. The doctor had shaken his head. It had probably made no difference. Probably? Almost certainly. But not definitely? It had almost certainly made no difference, he had said and handed her an information pamphlet.
It was for the best anyway, she’d thought on the way out of the clinic, clutching her pamphlet. She had dropped it in the first rubbish bin she passed. She wouldn’t give it another thought. And there was no point telling anyone. Not now. Bree wouldn’t understand anyway. It was fine. It wasn’t like she could miss something she hadn’t even known she’d had.
She had planned to go straight home, but the thought of her student flat seemed a bit lonely. So she’d got off the bus and gone to the bar, met the boys. For one drink, then a few more, because it wasn’t like she had a reason to avoid alcohol or the odd narcotic, was it? It was a bit late for that now, wasn’t it? And when she’d woken up the next morning, and her head was aching and her mouth was dry, she hadn’t really minded. That was the one good thing about a decent hangover. It didn’t leave much room to feel anything else.