Presumed Missing

by Fiona Tarr

  Hundreds of students in fancy, embroidered blazers laughed and joked, kicked the footy or ran and tackled one another as they walked home. Max suddenly had flashbacks to his school years. An Aussie Rules football player in high school, he’d played for the local club in the Riverland where he’d grown up. Not a tall guy in his teens, his best position had been rover, picking up the loose ball and getting it into the forward lines in hopes of a goal.

  He left the country town as soon as he had left school, bound for the Police force and freedom. He chased the fast life, meeting Liz, then having to let her go to save his own life. He reached in to his jacket pocket for another cigarette as soon as he butted out his first, then stopped himself.

  ‘Weak as piss Max.’ He put the box back in his jacket pocket and pulled out his nicotine gum. He placed it under his tongue until it softened, then gently chewed it. It wasn’t a smoke, but he was determined to kick the habit.

  When Liz had offered him the PI job, he’d accepted without thinking of the personal consequences. Then he’d met Jackie and discovered Liz had kept her birth a secret for over twenty-five years. He wanted Liz back, everyone knew that, but they also knew it wasn’t going to happen.

  Now, what was more important was that he wanted to be the dad Jackie should have had all those years ago. But a corrupt, overweight, smoking, drinking cop wasn’t gonna cut it. But did he have the guts to sort himself out?

  Max pulled himself back on task and pushed his hands into his long jacket pockets to keep them warm. Winter wasn’t far off. Easter was less than two weeks away and that would mean the school would close for two weeks of holidays. They needed to find the missing girls before then, or the trail could go as cold as the late autumn frost.

  Most of the teachers had left for the day, but there had been no sign of Jones. Max wandered toward the main administration building, keeping close to the garden, trying to blend in and not draw attention to himself.

  He turned the corner and stopped, stepping back quickly from view. Jones was talking with the Chaplain and they were both heading toward the chapel, their backs to the former detective. Max followed, trying to make out the quiet conversation.

  Jones’s report hadn’t contained much of interest. He was a Catholic, devout from all accounts. So far nothing sinister had popped, but Max didn’t like the suave, smarmy fake smile he wore.

  Both men entered the chapel and Max found a comfortable spot to wait, out of sight but within easy view of the red brick archway that framed the multi-coloured bluestone entrance. The stained-glass windows flickered with the dying sunlight, casting a prism-like pattern that bounced around the sky.

  Max sighed. He chewed his nicotine gum aggressively, but regretted it immediately. The stuff tasted like the dregs in an old coffee jug after it had been left to dry out on the hotplate. He wanted to light up so much and the tedious waiting wasn’t helping.

  Twilight had cast a shadow below the chapel when Jones finally came out. Max followed him until he was sure he was heading to the car park, then he moved quickly to his own vehicle. Max knew Jones lived in Christies Beach, so he had a good idea which direction the teacher would go. He jumped in his car and put the parking lights on before starting the engine.

  A few moments later, Jones’s green Toyota pulled out of the staff car park and turned left heading toward Brighton Road. Max waited until the vehicle turned onto the main road before pulling out from the curb to follow.

  It took him too long to get across Brighton Road traffic, but he moved quickly, maintaining a steady pace until the green car came into view. It was heading up the hill toward Jones’s suburb. The twilight was almost gone now. The setting sun was disappearing below the horizon on Max’s right. Now he needed to maintain a close distance not to lose the car because picking it out from all the others in the darkness wasn’t going to be easy.

  He studied the shape of the tail lights. They weren’t the fancy new LED style he had on his Mazda. The car was at least ten years old, but the giveaway was the Victorian plates. Max silently thanked the slack bugger for not changing his rego over yet.

  Fifteen minutes later he followed Jones down a side street. He drove past as the teacher pulled into his driveway. Max parked around the corner, got out and pressed the lock button. The lights flashed, the sound of the locking mechanism clicked and Max grinned. He loved his new car, even if Liz officially owned it. Possession was nine-tenths of the law as far as he was concerned.

  Max’s phone pinged in his pocket. He pulled it out as he walked down the road toward Jones’s house. He stopped and looked at the message.

  Found anything? Liz’s number and message flashed in front of him.

  Working on it! He texted back. It’s bloody freezing out here!

  Gemma’s phone found. Call me when you’re done.

  Max sent the thumbs up emoji, and grinned to himself, knowing it pissed Liz off. Every text she sent was grammatically and punctually correct and she loathed text speech.

  He put his phone back in his pocket and walked the final hundred metres to Jones’s front yard. The front porch light was on, but there were no other lights visible at the front of the house. It was an old concrete brick home built back in the seventies. The orange tiled roof matched the neighbours and the next neighbours, all the way down the street of the ex-housing trust suburb.

  Max wandered around the side of the house, following the driveway past the right-hand side. A double garage was at the back of the block, the old tilt doors closed tight. The rear light came on and Max hunkered down in the shrubs, trying to stay out of sight.

  Jones walked out to the shed and opened the side entry door, flicking on a light before closing the door and locking it. Max heard the latch turn, his curiosity piquing. He hadn’t even cracked a beer before heading out to the shed? No dinner, just home and straight out back. What was so important?

  Max stayed low, but moved toward the side fence, trying to peer through a side window or listen for anything that might indicate Jones was holding the missing girls inside. All he could hear were the soft noises of crickets and the sound of leaves swishing in the cool evening breeze.

  He moved to open the gate, hoping it wasn’t locked, but a thud against the fence, followed by a ferocious bark knocked him from his feet.

  He landed heavily, but was on his feet and sprinting down the driveway, hugging the tree line for cover before getting onto the sidewalk faster than a rabbit. He saw the shed door open, just as he made it around the front of the house and over the road behind a parked car, hunkering down to catch his breath.

  Moments later, the side gate opened and Jones emerged, peering into the darkness, his hand firmly on the collar of a German Shepherd, which continued to snarl, the sound bringing goose bumps to Max’s neck.

  ‘Who’s there?’ Max wasn’t waiting around. With all the commotion, a neighbour was bound to stick their nose out to see what was happening and the last thing he needed was to be caught watching the guy.

  ‘I’m calling the Police!’

  Great! Max thought as he jogged down the unlit side of the road and around the corner to his car. He was breathless as he opened the door and jumped in. He resisted the urge to start the car straight away. Years of Police work told him that was the worst thing he could do. Anyone watching would see the car and match the time with the disturbance if Jones actually did make a complaint. Instead, he laid his seat back a little and pulled out his phone to call Liz.

  ‘What have you found?’ No pleasantries from Liz and Max sighed, chewing his gum again for calm. She was the escort, but somehow, he was the one that felt used in this new relationship.

  ‘Nothing of interest. Anything on the phone?’

  ‘It’s locked. Techs are working on it. Fingers crossed they get it open tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Jack heard anything about our Mr Jones?’

  ‘Not sure. I guess we’ll find that out tomorrow too.’

  ****

  ‘Shit!’

>   ‘What?’ Jenny moved around to stand behind Jack at his desk, peering over his shoulder enthusiastically.

  It felt strange to Jack still—having someone in Max’s old spot, but he wasn’t about to hold it against the young detective. She was a smart cookie and he figured he could use his experience to help her advance in her career. Some of the crew referred to him as the veteran. He guessed he was, to some degree, but in cases like this he felt just as much a newbie as Jenny likely felt.

  ‘Jones is from Ballarat. Worked at a private Catholic school there, right?’ The question was rhetorical, so he was pleased when Jenny just waited. Her instincts were good.

  ‘We know two girls went missing from his last school, but Major Crimes in Melbourne have two murder victims and one other missing school girl, all similar age, all reported from the same area and during our Mr Jones’s term in good old regional Vic.’

  ‘Were they all from Ballarat? Was he interviewed?’ Jenny leant forward, now trying to read the case notes over Jack’s shoulder. It was late. They both should have knocked off an hour ago, but Jack was going to clock some overtime on this case, now even more so.

  ‘Even one missing girl from his school would have warranted at least one interview, but with more than one girl missing, maybe they spoke to him a few times. I’ll call the lead detective tomorrow and see if I can find out more and get a copy of the case notes.’

  ‘I hope Gemma and Belinda are just off doing a road trip to the Gold Coast or something. This is getting really worrisome.’ Jack looked over his shoulder at his new partner. Sometimes he forgot just how new to the high-profile cases she was.

  ‘Don’t get too attached to the girls Jenny. Try to distance yourself in case.’

  Jenny didn’t have to ask in case of what. Jack could see her frown as she acknowledged that at any moment they could find a body instead of a mobile phone. Any day they might have to walk up and tap on Mrs Richardson’s door and give her bad news. They both exchanged a knowing look that said they hoped that didn’t happen.

  ‘Can we bring up the pictures of the Victorian victims?’ Jenny asked and Jack nodded, clicked a few keys and the screen showed a row of photos.

  ‘I’ll print them out and add them to our board.’ Jack hit a few more keys and the printer on the far side of the room hummed into action. Jenny went over and waited for the photos to all print.

  A few moments later, she pinned a new group of photos next to the ones of Gemma and Belinda and stood back.

  ‘What’s the connection? They are all the same age, but that is where the similarity ends.’ Jenny put her hands on her hips and chewed her lip as she looked slowly through the line-up of pretty, young faces. ‘They all look different?’

  ‘They are all pretty. Like you said, the same age. At least three attended schools where Jones taught. We’ll dig deeper and check on other connections in the morning. The Catholic school isn’t a connection between our two victims, but maybe it is with these five?’

  ‘I can check now.’ Jenny offered and headed to her desk, but Jack tapped her gently on the arm.

  ‘You need a good night’s sleep first. We both do. We can start early, if it makes you feel better.’

  ‘But I...’

  ‘We’re done Detective.’ Jack added softly. ‘We can grab a beer if you want to before you head home.’

  ‘I’m okay boss. I get it.’ Jenny went to her desk, picked up her jacket from the back of the chair and pulled it on before collecting her handbag.

  Jack watched her leave before returning to his desk. He tapped a few keys and looked at the five Victorian victims one by one. All seventeen, all in their last year of school, all with so many more years of life ahead of them.

  ‘I’ll get you, you little bastard.’ His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out. Liz’s name flashed with each ring, so he flipped it open.

  ‘Stop working!’ Liz offered before he could utter a word.

  ‘What makes you think I’m working?’ Jack powered his computer down and made his way to the elevator, which dinged in the background.

  ‘You’re only just leaving work, right?’

  ‘It’s been a long day.’

  ‘Mine too. I just got off the phone with Max. Seems our Mr Jones has settled down in his little house for the night, so nothing more we can do. Care for a nightcap?’ The silence hung in the air. ‘Or not.’ Liz pushed on. ‘I’m sure you have to eat and we can debrief over a wine or two.’

  ‘You sure you want to invite me back to your apartment?’

  ‘You miss me. Admit it!’ Jack could hear Liz smiling through the phone.

  ‘I miss Max, I’m not sure how I feel about our....working relationship, but missing you is not really an option is it? You’ve kind of infiltrated into another of my cases Ms Jeffreys.’ His tone was light and Liz chuckled.

  ‘No Detective, you’ve stuck your nose in mine. Wine, dinner or no?’

  ‘Sound good.’

  18

  Liz buzzed the detective into her apartment without opening the door manually. It was becoming a habit with that man it seemed. ‘White or red?’ She pushed a skewer into the potato bake, then put on her oven gloves and turned to put it back in the oven. Jack looked exhausted. ‘Have you stopped to eat today?’

  ‘You sound like my mother.’

  ‘Speaking of which, have you caught up with her since Tom’s hearing?’

  ‘A couple of times. We’ve had lunch out so I don’t accidentally have to deal with dear old dad.’

  ‘She must know why you’re avoiding him?’ Liz carried on pouring white wine, deciding it would go best with the chicken in mustard sauce in any case. She handed the detective a glass, half full. Her manners were on full display because if she had had her way, with no witnesses, her glass would have been full to near overflowing.

  ‘I never told you about my visit after the case broke, did I?’ Liz shook her head and waved her hand to the lounge. The gas fire was humming as the flames flickered blue and red, locked in a dance that she always found mesmerising.

  Jack took a seat as Liz passed him his wine glass. He took a sip. ‘I told you she likely knows about dad by default, but I kind of set my mum up and I feel a little bad about it.’ Liz’s eyebrow rose, but she put the wine glass to her lips rather than ask any questions.

  ‘She’s always been super curious. I could never keep a gift a secret. I kind of piqued her interest on why I was seeing my dad privately, in his study.’ Liz waited as Jack took another mouthful of wine and sat back in the leather sofa.

  ‘I knew if I left the door open she’d hear my conversation. The old man pretty much admitted to his involvement, without being too specific. He admitted to using your agency. That it was standard in our world.’

  ‘You’re not part of his world Jack.’ The detective nodded.

  ‘I could tell when I went back to the living room mum had heard everything. I was being a coward and I feel really bad about it.’

  ‘Don’t. Your mum must have had some inclination your dad wasn’t exactly squeaky clean. She could have dug deeper if she wanted to.’

  ‘Exactly. She didn’t want to and I forced her to.’

  ‘She has had lunch with you since. Doesn’t sound like she’s holding a grudge.’ Liz got up, placed her glass on the coffee table and went to check on the food.

  ‘That smells great.’

  ‘Honey mustard chicken with potato bake and stir-fried veg. You okay with that?’

  ‘Sounds perfect. A woman of many talents.’ Jack stood, collected Liz’s glass and joined her in the kitchen, taking a seat at the long counter.

  ‘You have no idea,’ Liz grinned and for a moment, she thought Jack might blush.

  ‘How’s it with you and Jackie? Phone her yet?’

  Liz frowned. ‘I have. I was hoping to do a shopping trip with her soon, but her mother,’ Liz’s tone was far from happy, ‘has gone ballistic and Jackie has promised, once she settles down, we’ll make it a date.�
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  ‘But you’re not sure she will.’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t really pull the ‘it’s in my past, sorry’ card when it isn’t really in my past. I’m still an escort, a Madam no less. I can’t blame her if she doesn’t want to be around me.’

  ‘You are who you are Liz. If Jackie is your and Max’s daughter, you can relax, really. She’ll have curiosity in her blood. Staying away won’t be an option, even if it’s just to know and understand more about you and Max.’

  ‘I hope you’re right. Max will be devastated if he can’t see her again.’

  ‘The old boy has gone a bit soft for his daughter, hasn’t he?’ Jack smiled and moved to the fridge at the end of the counter. ‘Can I refill your glass?’

  ‘Why detective, are you trying to get me drunk?’

  There was a pause as Jack opened the wine fridge and poured a refill for them both. ‘Drunk no. Relaxed, maybe a little.’ He looked at Liz sheepishly and she remembered how his crystal blue eyes had made her feel the day they first met. The circumstances of Becca’s death were crap, but she was so glad so much good had come from their meeting.

  ‘We’ve had a break of sorts in the case.’ Jack changed the subject as the silence grew between them. Liz regretted it.

  She began to dish up the food. ‘What kind of break?’

  ‘The Victorian Police have a few similar cases on their books. Three missing girls.’ Liz looked at Jack, realising he’d stopped without finishing.

  ‘And?’

  He took a deep breath. Was he considering not telling her something? ‘I’m a big girl Detective and I need to know everything if I’m to help my client find her daughter.’

  ‘Two murdered girls. Same age.’

  ‘Fuck!’ Liz sucked her thumb which she’d scalded on the side of the potato bake. She ran it under the cold water.

  ‘Are you okay?’