One Single Thing

by Tina Clough

  Dao looks steadily at Sinclair across the table. ‘Of course, we did! Can you imagine going out and leaving your door open, and leaving your bag and your phone behind? Even if we thought she might just have gone off somewhere, those things just didn’t fit.’

  ‘Quite true,’ says Sinclair. ‘And you located Mr. Robinson very cleverly via a photo on Hope’s phone and social media. I must say I’m impressed. But putting trackers on Browning’s cars – it could be construed to be illegal surveillance. What gave you the idea?’

  Dao and I look at each other. Telling her the whole story is a tedious prospect and neither of us wants to do it. Then Dao takes the initiative. ‘Do you know Benson? He’s a detective inspector too.’

  I know the moment she says it that Sinclair has been in touch with him; her eyebrows rise a fraction.

  Dao has noticed it too. ‘I see that you do know him, or you’ve talked to him? Did he call you or did you call him?’

  I nearly laugh out loud. Here we are being interviewed and now Dao is interviewing Sinclair. She goes a step further before Sinclair has a chance to reply. ‘I bet he called you. We asked him to help us find Hope, but he said he couldn’t because her file was blocked. It said on the news that a woman who had been missing for some time had been found dead and he would have guessed it was Hope. Benson is very smart, you know.’

  Sinclair has met her match and she knows it. A tiny smile lifts the corners of her mouth. ‘Right. He called me this morning and told me exactly what you have just said. And he told me that you had some trouble recently when you found a GPS locator on your car. How long had the tracker been on Browning’s truck?’

  I step in here; I don’t want to open the door for unnecessary questions and trouble. ‘Only since Friday. He leaves the truck at home and takes his car to work, so it wasn’t difficult.’

  I don’t want to say he kept the truck in his garage and give her another reason to warn us we’ve done something illegal.

  Sinclair takes us back over all the things we talked about on Sunday, more detailed questions this time, but nothing that is hard to respond to. We describe again how we had a picnic lunch and Scruff wandered off and found Hope’s body. She brings out an aerial photo of the clearing taken from a drone.

  ‘This is the scene from the air. You can see how far it is from any major track. We want to work out if Hope could possibly have walked there from the container or if she was brought there. When we spoke the other day, you seemed to assume she had walked. Why did you think that?’

  Dao and I look at each other; if I look as blank as she does, then Sinclair has her answer.

  ‘I don’t know,’ says Dao. ‘She was bare-foot and her feet were filthy, but that doesn’t mean she walked there. I think it was more the way she lay, as if she was really tired and just fell asleep.’

  ‘I thought she looked relaxed,’ I add. ‘Neither arranged nor just tossed down. Do you agree?’

  ‘I do, but I also know that sometimes victims are put down somewhere when they’re dying, but not yet dead – they can move, sometimes they don’t die until hours later. Maybe he took her there and left her, before she actually died.’

  ‘Those cuts,’ says Dao. ‘That was horrible, perverted. We thought he must have had her tied up to do that. She must have struggled. Hunter showed me the cuts on her palm – she tried to get the knife off him.’

  ‘I know, it’s distressing to imagine it. I’m sorry you had to see that, Dao. Was there anything you saw there, or at the container site, you would like to comment on?’

  ‘No, not really. But I should tell you that you might find dog hair inside the container because Scruff ran in before we could stop him. I don’t think he touched anything. We called him to come out right away because we didn’t know what might be in there.’

  ‘Do you think she was drugged?’ I ask. ‘He had something with him when he abducted her the first time – she wrote about seeing a cloth in his hand then going unconscious – so he had access to some chemical substance, whatever it was.’

  ‘We don’t know yet. Not all the lab reports have come back from the autopsy. They will test for a range of things and look for needle marks. We need to find out what actually killed her.’

  Sinclair gets another paper out of her folder. ‘This is a map of the tracks – it’s on the Internet, but we got a bigger version from the tourist information office, so we can see all the tracks. As you can see there are probably hundreds of kilometres of tracks up there and it’s a very popular spot for walking. Some walks are short and easy, and some are more demanding. Where you went is outside the Regional Park area where families go. You were in what is called a remote tramping area, not recommended for inexperienced walkers.’

  Someone has marked where the truck was parked and where Hope was found, but not the container. We lean forward over the table and I know this is the perfect opportunity. Various things from the events on Sunday have been sitting in the back of my mind. I know we must make sure they find Stuart; his death must become known.

  I keep thinking about the Scum Pond: can we give Sinclair a hint without risking repercussions? We can’t tell her what happened, or next thing I’ll be charged with manslaughter. How to go about it seems at first nearly unsolvable. How can I bring it up without exposing myself to risk? If they find him there will never be a trial. That will take pressure off us, as potential witnesses, and enable us to talk more freely, for example with Willow and Matt. It is only during the last few minutes that a solution has developed in the back of my mind.

  I point to the first fork in the main track. ‘We went up both these branches and then we tried the smaller ones further in that don’t show here. Some of them peter out and seem to disappear. I wonder if they are used by hunters. Presumably people are allowed to hunt here.’

  Sinclair frowns and studies the boxes of text on the pamphlet. ‘It doesn’t actually say. I’ll find out. We know the area is popular among bird-watchers and they conduct a species count up there every year. Only the two main tracks are maintained, the others are there by usage – if nobody uses them nature takes over. Like that one which leads to the clearing where you found Hope – barely a track any more.’

  I run my finger along the path that I know comes closest to the container. ‘Somewhere along this ridge is where we spotted the container.’

  Sinclair points with her pen and makes a small cross slightly off a track. ‘About here, I think.’

  ‘But who put it there?’ says Dao. ‘They must have used a big helicopter. And why would anyone bother? Do you think it was Browning?’

  ‘Someone we talked to yesterday said that the Department of Conservation had it airlifted in years ago, when they were thinking of creating an inland island for kiwi conservation. You know, one of those areas with predator-proof fencing? I suppose they wanted somewhere secure to keep equipment. But their funding was cut, and it never happened. How Browning found out about it I don’t know.’

  I continue to study the tracks while they talk then casually nudge Dao, keeping my finger on the map. ‘This smaller track here isn’t that far from the container, but on the other side from where we spotted it. It angles away from the main track. I think it’s where we saw that mysterious fence.’

  Dao doesn’t show it, but I can sense her tension. She is very alert now, not sure why I am bringing it up.

  ‘I think it might be,’ she says. ‘Wasn’t that weird?’

  ‘Bizarre.’ I turn my face towards her and smile. ‘Someone’s idea of a joke, perhaps. But what a lot of work just for a joke. Think of carrying all those fence posts all the way up there.’

  Now we have Sinclair’s attention. ‘Someone built a fence way in there?’

  ‘Oh, not a big fence,’ says Dao casually. ‘Just a straight length of wooden fence, about ten metres long. Do you think that’s right, Hunter?’

  ‘More or less. We thought it was a bit mad, because it doesn’t fence anything in.
The track goes across a little open space and the fence runs alongside the track from about halfway across, and then it ends. There’s nothing there at all. Just the track on one side and an expanse of bare ground on the other.’

  We look at each other in silent agreement that some things are too strange to explain and carry on with the interview.

  Right at the end Dao leans forward in her chair and looks at Sinclair in a way I am very familiar with. ‘I have some questions,’ she says, and she clearly expects answers. ‘People have asked us about things and we have said nothing so far, apart from stuff they will find out anyway. Do you want us to keep quiet about everything we have discussed with you? It’s not that we mind, but Noah wanted a lot of details about Hope and Hunter said we couldn’t discuss it.’

  She adds as an afterthought, in case Sinclair thinks I am unfeeling, ‘He was very kind about it, but he said you had asked us not to discuss it, just in case. And anyway, some things are so horrible it’s probably best he doesn’t know.’

  ‘Like the cuts?’ says Sinclair. ‘I know. It’s often hard to decide how to handle these things. We didn’t tell him about the cuts and he didn’t see them when he identified her. I think it’s best to keep everything you don’t see in the media to yourselves for the time being. That mutilation is evidence and the less it is talked about the better.’

  On the way home, I explain why I brought up the track with the fence. ‘And the way you stepped in, that was great. I only made up my mind in the last minute to bring the subject up, but Sinclair provided the perfect moment. If they look at that particular path, they might find the pond and then they might find him. And if they do find him, there won’t be a trial and we will no longer be of interest as key witnesses who can give evidence against him.’

  ‘I knew you had a reason, but I couldn’t work out what it was – not until you mentioned that mud area. Then I figured it out. You wanted them to find the pond. That was clever.’

  When we get home, Dao goes to let Scruff in from the courtyard. I hear a shout of laughter and turn around halfway up the stairs to investigate.

  ‘Look!’ She points through the glass door. ‘I can’t let him in!’

  Scruff is peering at us over the edge of a hole as deep as he is tall. He is covered in dirt, his tail wagging like a dusty flag.

  ‘He’s making a tunnel!’ Dao can’t stop laughing. ‘He’s making an escape into Nigel’s place.’

  ‘Bugger! Now I’ll have to find a way to stop him doing this. He’s started a new one beside the pavers I moved. I’ll go and change into shorts and hose him down.’

  Chapter twenty-six

  The next little while is devoid of drama. The days are getting noticeably shorter and as usual the Auckland weather alternates between rain and sun. Despite this it feels like spring instead of the onset of autumn. When I mention this weird thought, Dao instantly nods agreement.

  ‘It’s done, that’s why. All the hard stuff is over. Apart from the funeral, I suppose. You know how you said, “when we get our life back”? I think that’s where we are now, we’ve got our life back.’

  We buy a dog deterrent and spray the concrete border along the high walls in the courtyard and Scruff starts a new hole more or less in the middle of the lawn instead.

  Dao reads about why dogs suddenly start new behaviours, like digging large holes, but none of the reasons seem to fit. ‘I think he just discovered he likes to dig,’ she says. ‘Like when I discovered I like to climb. And when are we going to Clip’n Climb again, anyway? We haven’t been for weeks. I double-promise I won’t try to get you to do it – I know you don’t want to.’

  A double-promise can never be broken; it lasts even after death according to Dao, whose father told her about it.

  Last year, just after Mint’s trial, Matt suggested that it might be good for Dao to do something totally new. ‘I know everything she has come across since you found her is new,’ he said. ‘But I mean a fun activity that challenges her a bit. She is so resilient and so good at coping that it’s hard sometimes to remember how damaged she is. I was thinking of something like kayaking or rock climbing.’

  Matt is one of that rare breed, who observes more than he interacts and never says anything that is not worth listening to. After some research I took Dao to an indoor rock-climbing place in Dominion Road and it has been a favourite recreation ever since. Dao climbs ten-meter high walls like a monkey, with hand and footholds sometimes so far apart she can’t reach them, and she has to jump and grab. Thankfully she is roped and can’t fall all the way down. She climbs, and I watch and send video snippets to Matt. Once I sent a couple of shots to Charlie with the result that she and Kristen came with us one weekend. There’s going to be no prize for guessing who is going to join in, I thought, when they arrived. I was totally wrong. Charlie said she could think of few things she was less likely to do, and Kristen spent an hour climbing with Dao and has joined us there since.

  Having a few days of beach walking with Scruff and climbing in Dominion Road is like doing a factory reset. We feel normal again. Not that we can ever forget the events of the last couple of weeks, but now we look forward.

  Benson calls in and stays for a drink on his way home one afternoon. ‘I thought you’d like an unofficial update,’ he says. ‘Sinclair seems to think that I have some special connection to the Browning/Barber case and she’s called a couple of times to fill me in on progress. I told her my only interest was because you came to me for help at the start, but whatever – she called today.’

  Dao gives him a speculative look and he says, ‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘Oh, no reason really,’ she says, and I don’t believe a word of it. ‘I just want to know what she told you.’

  He takes a swig of his beer and shakes his head. ‘She didn’t have a lot to tell me, but a few things are coming together. They found hairs on the tarpaulin on the back of the truck and they are Hope’s. They found Browning’s fingerprints on the camera unit in the container, but nowhere else, so presumably he used gloves but forgot when he put the camera up. They got a lot of prints from his house and the truck and they match the prints on the camera. They’re still searching the ranges for him. His phone and bank accounts haven’t been touched and he hasn’t been sighted since the day you found Hope. Unless someone’s hiding him, he must be still up there.’

  ‘I think he’s lost,’ says Dao and avoids both lying or being devious. ‘Sinclair said that part of the ranges is called a remote tramping area and you need to be experienced to go right into it. It’s proper wilderness. And look how I got lost with Scruff – just a few minutes and I had no idea where I was.’

  I reach over and hand Benson the bowl of crisps. ‘He might die in there and never be found, I suppose. You read about it now and then – someone goes hunting or tramping and comes across a skeleton that’s been there for years.’

  ‘Well, at the moment they’ve got a very unpleasant job. Sinclair said they are draining some kind of water-filled pit that stinks. They’ve had searchers out combing the area where the container is, and one group came across a fence – apparently you had mentioned it? This offal pit or whatever it is, it’s behind the fence.’

  ‘Can’t be the same fence,’ I say mendaciously. ‘There was only a flat area of mud behind the fence we saw.’

  Benson makes a face of disgust. ‘Yeah, she said that’s exactly what it looks like. Imagine walking on the far side of that fence and stepping onto what looks like mud and finding yourself in a scum-covered pool of putrid water. She said the scum on top is exactly level with the ground and it’s so thick and brown you can hardly make out the edges of the pool.’

  ‘But how can they drain it?’ asks Dao. ‘Are they using buckets?’

  ‘They’ve brought in a diesel generator and a pump – which keeps stopping because it gets blocked with all kinds of smelly bits.’ Benson laughs. ‘Poor guys. They’re wearing masks, but Sinclair th
inks they’re going to need breathing apparatus if it takes much longer. The deeper they go the worse it gets.’

  ‘That look,’ I say to Dao, when Benson has gone. ‘What did it really mean?’

  ‘I just thought he sounded kind of pleased with himself when he said that Sinclair has rung him a few times. Do you think he likes her?’

  I try to imagine Sinclair and Benson side by side and feel a grin spreading over my face. ‘Can you picture it? There she is with not a hair out of place and not a crease anywhere and Benson’s got his shirt half untucked and his tie hanging undone, and his pockets are full of God knows what. They would be the most unlikely couple I can imagine.’

  Now Dao is smiling too. ‘As unlikely as you and me?’

  She is right; unlikely has nothing to do with it. I head for the kitchen. ‘I never think of us as unlikely, but probably others do.’ I know damn well they do.

  ‘Oh, yes, they do. I see the way people look at us.’ She sounds amused. ‘It doesn’t really matter where we are, expensive restaurant or a pizza shop, someone will stare, but it doesn’t worry me.’

  She gives me a wicked look. ‘They probably think you bought me from one of those websites. You know, like a mail-order bride.’

  ‘Hunter, phone for you.’

  Dao stands in the bathroom door, my phone in her hand. I dry my hands and take it from her, make a face meaning ‘who is it?’ and she shakes her head.

  ‘Hunter, my name is Will. We haven’t met, but I have heard a lot about you.’

  It is the kind of call I don’t like. When people say they have heard a lot about you it can be good or bad; when this guy says it, the words have an undercurrent of menace.

  ‘OK,’ I say, keeping my voice neutral. ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘I think we can do business together. You have something I want, and I have the money to pay for it. No strings attached. You get rid of an embarrassment and I can use it.’