One Single Thing

by Tina Clough

  ‘I’ve never done anything like this before in a fairly long career, so I’d appreciate it if you’re totally discreet with this information until this case is sorted out.’

  ‘Of course,’ says Dao. ‘I would never say anything that might get you into trouble, Benson, never!’

  ‘I have a couple of days off and this morning I went to have coffee with a guy I used to work with. He’s working in Manurewa now and I hadn’t seen him for a few months. Our days off just happened to coincide. And he told me about a strange incident he attended a little while ago.’

  Benson’s face is neutral; he could be telling us a bedtime story. ‘It was an interesting story – a woman was abducted and transported on a truck in a wheelie bin. The bin fell off on the motorway and some guys in a van hauled it over to the side and found her inside.’

  He pauses and drinks some of his beer. We say nothing. ‘Anyway, the truck driver kept driving, probably didn’t realise he’d lost the bin. According to Bernie – that’s my mate – the guys in the van didn’t notice the number plate. The driver of the van, Craig, thought the truck was a Toyota, but he wasn’t quite sure. Too busy watching that bin, I imagine.’

  We both know that Dao already told him about this when she saw him, but we listen as if we hear it for the first time. It’s a strange way of doing it, but maybe it makes him feel better about ‘breaking the rules’, as he puts it.

  He pulls out a piece of paper from his back pocket and puts it on the coffee table. Neither Dao nor I reach out to pick it up. It looks like a single word and a phone number.

  ‘What a coincidence that I heard about it today, Dao, just after your visit yesterday.’ His grey eyes twinkle.

  ‘Serendipity!’ says Dao innocently. ‘I looked that word up the other day – and that’s serendipity too. Do you want to hear what we found out yesterday?’

  He leaves an hour later, having declined an invitation to stay and have dinner with us. At the door Dao says, ‘And please say thank you to that kind man in your reception for giving me coffee and biscuits.’

  ‘That’s nice of you, Dao, but I don’t think I’ll mention it. He would just be envious that I have been to see you. I think we’ll just keep this visit between ourselves.’

  Benson’s note: Craig 022 0250166.

  I leave a message on Craig’s phone and he calls back a short while later. ‘No, mate, nothing at all,’ he says. ‘We paid no attention until we saw that bloody bin rocking on the edge of the deck. And then all we could think of was how to take evasive action if it fell off. The traffic was wicked, mate, full on, so it could have been a real situation.’

  ‘I can imagine. How did you manage it?’

  ‘The bin was rocking, which was weird, and I blew the horn over and over. But he just kept going, the dozy bugger. When it was obvious it would come off any second, I braked and put my hazard lights on and started pulling over to the side. Tell you what, you’ve never seen three guys exit a van so damn fast. We signalled to traffic behind us to slow down and raced into the road and dragged it to the side.’

  ‘You took a real risk,’ I say. ‘It must have been a shock to find Hope inside.’

  ‘Was that her name? Hope, eh? A bin full of Hope.’ He chortles; a kind man’s reaction to what he thinks is good news. ‘Yeah, it was a shock to say the least. Of course, we thought she was dead to start with. She was amazingly calm when you think of it, said she’d been drugged. So, how is she?’

  ‘She’s missing again. I’m helping her brother try to find her.’

  ‘Fuckin’ hell! I hope you find her. The poor woman!’ It is clearly not the answer he expected.

  ‘She kept a kind of diary on her computer,’ I say, wanting to leave him with something positive. ‘Her brother found it. She wrote about you helping her, she said how kind you were about removing the duct tape from her mouth.’

  He makes no comment, just asks me to keep his number and let him know when we find her.

  Chapter thirteen

  ‘We’re stuck,’ says Noah two days later.

  We are meeting in a café near his office in his lunch break. ‘I don’t know where to go from here. It’s like she’s been sucked into a black hole. Mum and Dad are frantic. They’ve asked their Member of Parliament to make enquiries in Wellington and Dad says he’ll barge into the Prime Minister’s office and demand an answer, if the cops don’t act soon. Personally, I think some media attention might be more effective. And we still have no clue who that young guy is that she took the photo of, the one she called her stalker.’

  He is thinner than ever and looks as if he has not slept in a week.

  ‘I know! We can use Hunter’s sister – Plum,’ says Dao. ‘She’s on Facebook and Instagram and all those things. Let’s get Plum to put his photo on social media and ask her friends to share it, with a little caption under the photo saying, “If you know who this is please respond to xxx”. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier.’

  ‘I’m not on social media, so I can’t do it. Why don’t you two do it yourselves?’

  ‘Hunter isn’t on social media and I have no friends.’ Dao smiles at the look of disbelief he gives her. ‘It’s true, I hardly know anyone apart from Hunter’s family and a couple of his friends. But Plum has over eight hundred Facebook friends, most of them in Auckland. She showed me once, all these photos and half of them she can’t remember if she ever met for real. So she doesn’t know them all, it’s just pretend. But it’s a good base to start from. We could reach thousands.’

  She has not talked with me about this, which is good. She is starting to make independent decisions a lot more these days. We’re nearly back to where we were before that bloody trial. Willow said recently, ‘My God, Hunter, who’d have thought it? You’ve developed such a range of new roles since you found Dao. Educator, mentor, lover, social worker, shopping companion, bodyguard – what next? Do you ever feel stressed by it all?’

  She was joking, of course, but there is a grain of truth in it. Life with Dao is sometimes challenging, but always interesting. And a bit easier now that nobody is trying to kill us.

  When I ask Plum to circulate the photo, she is instantly fired up with curiosity. She anticipates mystery and dramatic revelations, but she is in for a disappointment. She never could keep a secret; this would be too tempting to share with one or five or ten best friends.

  ‘What’s he done? Is he a criminal? Are you after him for something?’

  ‘No, he’s not a criminal. Don’t get excited. I’m helping a friend who’s lost touch with his sister. The guy in the photo is someone she knows and who might know where she is.’

  ‘OK, I’ll tell you everything I find out – but you’ll let me know if he finds her, won’t you?’

  ‘I will. And please use the exact words I’m emailing. Don’t add a single word. We don’t want to ruin this guy’s reputation.’

  Plum calls the next afternoon. ‘That didn’t take long. Posting it on a Friday was perfect. The girl who called has sent me a couple of Facebook photos to make sure it’s the right guy. I’ll email them to you now.’

  Within twenty-four hours of Plum putting the enhanced photo of Hope’s stalker on social media, and asking people to share and re-share, we have a phone number for him. The photo reaches thousands of people, by virtue of everyone having hundreds of so-called friends.

  ‘Great result. Thank you very much,’ I say. ‘You’ll get a finder’s reward for this.’

  The stalker’s name is Tama Robinson. Not on any social media himself, but he has friends who are, and he appears in various group photos; some are copied into Plums’ message.

  I call Noah. ‘Do you want to contact him? Willow can do it and make it official or I can talk to him, whatever you like.’

  ‘I’d rather you do it. See if you can set up a meeting – my place if you like, or a café somewhere.’

  ‘Let’s record it. You know how sometimes you can hear lit
tle details in how people say things, their voice changes?’ says Dao. ‘I hope he won’t refuse to see us.’

  ‘OK, you sort out how to record it. I’ll call him – we’ll put it on speaker, so we can both listen. Please sit across from me so I can see your face.’ If her attention notches up at any point, I want to be aware of it.

  Within seconds I know that Tama is going to be crucial, though not how. He is very guarded; I am pleased we are recording the call.

  ‘Hi, Tama. My name is Hunter Grant. I think you know Hope Barber.’

  I don’t think I have ever before made someone gasp, but that’s what Tama does. An audible intake of breath, then silence. Dao’s eyes open wide.

  ‘No,’ he says finally. ‘I don’t know her personally, but I know who she is.’

  ‘She is missing. Did you know?

  Another pause at his end. ‘Yes.’

  ‘How do you know this? It’s not been in the papers.’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Did you know that she had a photo of you on her phone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We found you through that photo and social media.’ Now the silence lasts longer. ‘So you posted something that went viral. Did it mention her name?’

  ‘No, it just said the girl who posted it wanted to find you. Made it sound a bit romantic. It worked a treat. Why did you ask, if it mentioned her name?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. Who are you?’

  I mouth ‘Sorry’ to Dao across the table; advance apology. ‘Do you remember stories in the media last year in connection with a trial about drug smuggling? The key witness was a girl who had been enslaved for years and escaped.’

  ‘Ah,’ he says. ‘I thought your name was familiar. What is your interest in this?’

  ‘Hope is the sister of a friend. I know you followed her around at times. She called you her stalker. Were you stalking her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why were you watching her?’

  ‘I was trying to protect her,’ he says. He sounds sad.

  ‘OK.’ I try to keep my voice calm, hide my reaction. ‘I think it would be a good idea to meet and talk face to face. Will you do that?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If you followed her to protect her, you must have known of some threat to her safety. Now she’s disappeared – maybe something you noticed will help us find her. The cops won’t touch it.’

  ‘What! Why not?’ The first unguarded reply, genuine surprise.

  ‘They won’t say. We assume there is some other involvement, beyond police. There is a block on her file. Our lawyer can’t find out who or why.’

  This time Tama is silent for a long time. Dao puts a finger to her lips and whispers, ‘Wait.’

  ‘OK,’ he says at last. ‘Let’s meet – but not in a public place. Somewhere private.’

  ‘You can come here tonight, if that suits you. I’ll text the address. Have you got transport?’

  Noah arrives, supercharged with nervous tension, unable to keep still. Dao takes one look at him and shakes her head behind his back.

  ‘Noah,’ she says firmly. ‘Will you please sit down and let me give you a drink. Have you had dinner?’

  ‘Didn’t have time.’ He remains standing, moving from one foot to the other, one hand jiggling his keys. ‘It doesn’t matter, I’ll eat something when I get home.’

  ‘You must eat something. Come into the kitchen with me and we’ll find something you like. And a beer or a glass of wine. This guy Tama is very cautious. If you can’t calm down this won’t work. What if he gets nervous and leaves before we find anything out?’

  She walks towards the kitchen while she speaks, and he follows. I hear them talking but keep out of it. When they return, Noah carries a tray with beer and glasses, biscuits and cheese. He smells of banana and seems calmer.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Just after half-past seven.’

  ‘Dao, here or there?’ I indicate the other end of the room. ‘Maybe sitting at the table will feel too much like an inquisition.’

  ‘Let’s be comfortable,’ says Dao. ‘He felt threatened by our call. If we keep it kind of friendly, he might relax a bit.’

  Dao has just played Noah the recording of the call with Tama, when the doorbell goes. Noah is silent, digesting what he has just heard, but we have no time to discuss it or its implications.

  ‘You stay here,’ I tell Noah before I go down to open the door. ‘And take your lead from me. If you can’t see where I’m going with some question or comment, do not interrupt. I don’t want any outbursts to jeopardise this.’

  Dao and I have agreed on an approach and we can’t have Noah chucking random spanners in the works.

  The guy on the doorstep is average height and looks as if he goes to the gym. He is also ridiculously good-looking, with wavy black hair, dark brown eyes. He could be a model. He looks calm, but I suspect there is tight self-control behind the facade. Based on how little he gave away on the phone, I imagine he is anticipating being put on the spot. There might well be questions he does not want to answer.

  ‘Right,’ I say when we are sitting down, and he has a beer in his hand. ‘We know you followed Hope on a few occasions. She mentioned that she never saw you anywhere near her flat. If that is correct, how did you know she had disappeared?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. And I never went near her flat.’ He pauses. ‘Not until after she had disappeared.’

  ‘Like a couple of days ago, in your lunch hour?’

  I can hear how taken aback he is. ‘How do you know about that?’

  I smile, try to make it sound friendly. ‘You’d probably be surprised if I told you just how much we know. Not about you personally, but about your movements. So tell me how you knew where Hope was going to be when she went out at night. If you didn’t follow her from the flat, you could only know if you hacked her emails or her phone.’

  His face betrays his conflict. He wants to help us to find Hope, but he cannot or will not tell us what he knows. He looks down at his hands and when he looks up he has made a decision. He puts his beer down and gets up. ‘Sorry, I’m wasting your time. I shouldn’t have come. I simply can’t help you.’

  He walks around the sofa, but Dao gets up and meets him halfway, blocks his way to the stairs and he is too polite to push past her.

  ‘OK, Tama,’ she says. ‘You know something, but you’re scared of telling us too much, aren’t you? You have to trust us. We want to find her too – and you said you wanted to protect her.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he says again. ‘I’d better leave.’

  I must stop him leaving: once he has gone we’ll never get him back. I use my old Army issuing-orders voice. ‘Come back here and sit down, Tama. We haven’t finished.’

  He looks at me for a long moment before he returns to his chair. Dao sits down again at the end of the sofa closest to me, where she can watch his face.

  ‘I’m not some kind of hired gun,’ I tell him, intent on making him trust me. ‘I’m not connected to the police or anyone else. The situation I had to deal with when I found Dao was forced on me because she was hunted by killers. The only reason Noah asked me to help was because the cops won’t act. I have no personal stake in this. I report to nobody else and I am not a threat to your privacy or your job, whatever that is. I agree with Dao – I think you could help us, but you can’t figure out how to do it without telling us everything you know.’

  ‘How did you know Hope had disappeared?’ asks Dao. ‘Did somebody tell you? Did you know she was taken from her flat?’

  ‘Nobody told me. But I knew.’

  He is more uncomfortable than ever. He is obviously inherently truthful, which makes it hard for him to be evasive. His eyes flick from Dao to me and then to Noah.

  I say quietly, ‘So you were spying on her.’

  A short flicker of something like relief crosses his face. ‘Yes, I was.’

>   Not ‘we were’ but ‘I was’. Did he deliberately use the singular to make us believe he acted on his own? Is he protecting someone? Why the look of relief? Perhaps my question was not as dangerous as he had expected.

  ‘You knew she was taken. Either you were there at the time, or somebody told you, or you had a camera in her flat.’

  ‘A camera.’ He nearly chokes on the word.

  Noah’s head swings to me, his eyes tormented; he is just about to say something. I shoot him a look that stops him in his tracks.

  ‘So you recorded it. Do you know who took her?

  ‘I am trying to work it out. But he must have tried again. The second time he didn’t enter her flat.’

  In my side vision I notice Dao’s chin rise slightly. Her focus on Tama is drilling a hole through the space between them. She has noticed something I missed.

  ‘So why don’t you show the recording of the first attempt to the police?’ I ask. ‘If it shows who did it?’

  He is torn, trying to decide if he should come clean or not.

  ‘I can’t do that. It can’t be done.’

  He is perspiring, very tense. We’re getting closer to the truth, but also closer to the question that might make him leave. I decide attack is the best approach, now that he is unsettled and tense. Strike while the iron is hot.

  ‘OK, let me tell you what I think. You work for some branch of the intelligence services – or someone contracted to them – and you were monitoring her. What is she suspected of?’

  The relief on his face is nearly comical. You can see the tension draining away, now that I have said it and he does not have to.

  ‘OK, yes. But I can’t tell you very much. I would end up in prison if they find out I have talked.’

  ‘Have some cheese,’ says Dao prosaically, trying to lower the tension. ‘And drink your beer. We have plenty of time. Bet you didn’t have dinner either, just like Noah.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he says politely. ‘But I’ll tell you what I can first.’