Kat’s voice was lower but still clear, when she said, ‘My mum stopped remembering my birthday or Christmas ages ago cos she doesn’t care.’
Georgie’s heart ached.
Poor Katz.
Ando gave Kat’s shoulder a single pat.
The teen did an it is what it is shrug, then continued. ‘But Hanny’s always sworn her dad will come back one day. And if she accepts her mum’s remarriage, she’ll be letting go of him. Hanny told me, “I’ll always be a Savage kid.” It sounded funny, but it’s actually really sad when you think about it.’
She added, ‘She can fight it, you know, cos she’s twelve. She reckons she’ll go to court and make sure she keeps her name…poor kid.’
She rested her forehead on the glass and her next words were muffled, but Georgie thought she said, ‘So dumbarse me put Hanny and her brothers up for the camp, thinking it might help…and dumbarse me let the kids go missing. I have to find them.’
Chapter 24
Franklin observed the way Kat stood apart from the group and the stiff set of her back – she was fighting to hold herself together. He couldn’t stop himself and moved in.
‘Hey, kid.’ He slid an arm over her shoulders. ‘Hang in there.’
‘Dad.’ Kat’s voice was raw and scratchy. ‘Don’t be nice to me. Please.’
He heard her swallow hard and gave her a squeeze.
They didn’t speak again for a few minutes. Around them, the tendrils of fog lightened with the break of dawn. They heard car doors slam and deep barks.
‘Dog Squad’s here.’
She nodded.
‘The Search and Rescue choppers should be able to get up later this morning – when the low cloud lifts and the wind drops.’
His daughter nodded again.
‘There’ll be another briefing in about twenty minutes to go over the grids and comms stuff one more time.’
‘Yeah, I know, Dad.’
Franklin almost smiled. Good to see some of her usual spark; she was going to need it.
They fell silent again, watching more and more people trudge up the long driveway, adding to the sea of all shapes, ages and sizes donned in the carrot-orange coveralls of the SES. These volunteers only just outnumbered the Search and Rescue Squad, Dog Squad and general operations police, all clad in high-visibility vests or jackets atop their blue uniforms, along with a generous representation of volunteer firies in the bright yellow overalls of the Country Fire Authority. A couple of dozen DSE—or whatever the latest moniker was for the Department of Sustainability and Environment—employees swelled the crowd, adding to the rainbow effect with their Kermit green. The Parks Victoria staff brightened their dull army greens with colourful anoraks or slickers and Red Cross volunteers added scarlet to the mix.
Well over the anticipated numbers already and Franklin suspected hordes more would arrive before the search started. He imagined every navigable inch of the five kilometres of View Road lined by trucks, utes, people-movers and cars.
‘So. You and Josh?’
Kat looked at him. ‘Oh, Dad.’ Red circles bloomed on her cheeks. ‘What did Georgie say?’
Franklin grinned. ‘Nothing, but you just confirmed what I was thinking.’
She hung her head and he nudged her.
‘What did Josh tell you about his interview with the detectives?’
Kat shrugged. Flatly, she said, ‘He wouldn’t tell me anything.’
‘Two coffees please,’ Sam said. ‘White-with-one for both.’
‘No problem, sweetie.’ The woman wiped her hands just under the CFA emblem on her apron, adding, ‘For you?’
‘No, they’re for the parents.’ Sam gestured discreetly in the direction of Ness and Duane.
The couple huddled together as if they couldn’t stay upright alone. Bernie’s wife stood nearby; Vikki seemed to have a sixth sense about allowing them space. When the searchers took off and the parents had to remain behind, she’d need to step in again.
The woman serving Sam paused her coffee making and bent closer. ‘Poor pets. Any news on the children?’
Sam’s throat constricted. ‘No.’
‘You’re one of the Daylesford police, aren’t you?’ After Sam’s nod, she lowered her eyes. ‘Mark my words, they’ll be home and safe before today’s end.’
Her lack of eye contact said otherwise.
‘I hope so.’
The woman poured sugar into the coffee beakers and handed them to Sam. ‘You want a sausage, sweetie? It’s going to be a hard day and you’ll need plenty of energy.’
Sam nearly said Only if it’s in white bread, which was an in-house joke at the station. Truthfully, sausage in a white-bread blanket couldn’t compete with one of Mamma’s meals but it had grown on her during her post at Daylesford. She asked for three: one for her and the others for Ness and Duane who’d been out in their car looking for the kids all night. She guessed they hadn’t eaten anything since leaving Daylesford yesterday morning.
‘It’ll be okay if we don’t have another electrical storm,’ the coffee maker commented.
A second volunteer passed Sam the sausages and added, ‘So long as the wind doesn’t pick up again. They’ll have to call it off if it blows up like yesterday and the day before.’
It currently blew at gale force, which seemed like a picnic compared to yesterday. Sam dreaded it worsening. Long and arduous was what Search and Rescue had warned them to prepare for. A search scene and potential crime scene rolled into one, hampered by the fact that evidence would’ve washed away long ago. The dogs would be of little use, unless they scented a cadaver.
The smell of sausage and tomato sauce reminded her of flesh and blood, and Sam wanted to throw up. She gave her sausage to a random SES person on her way to Ness and Duane.
Franklin didn’t know what Kat was up to when she tapped Manthorp on the shoulder. After she caught the detective’s attention, she pointed at the kit of high-vis vests.
The detective did a headshake. Kat matched the gesture.
Without drawing attention to himself, he drifted close enough to overhear.
Kat was saying, ‘I’m partly responsible for the kids being here and Hannah’s like a little sister to me. I’m coming on the search.’
Manthorp studied her face, then cut her eyes to Franklin, apparently aware he was there all along.
She nodded. ‘All right. If your dad agrees and you’re on a tightrope. Stuff up and you’re out. Got it?’
Kat looked both relieved and sick. Maybe she wondered the same thing as him: Are we too late?
Georgie watched Ness alternately scratch her body and tug at her hair. As the mother disintegrated, her fiancé withdrew further into himself. Now neither could coherently communicate and poor Vikki seemed to be losing it too.
She hissed out the side of her mouth as she passed Georgie, ‘Kitchen?’
They met there moments later and Vikki rubbed her arms. ‘I’m out of my depth. How do I help them?’ She sighed. ‘It seems like hours since the searchers headed off.’
Facing towards the rear of the property and the National Park beyond the boundary, her expression twisted into fear.
Georgie touched her arm. ‘Bernie will be okay.’
Vikki laughed. It sounded forced. ‘Oh, I know that. He’s a tough ol’ horse, my Bern.’ She blinked rapidly. ‘Physically, anyway. But if they don’t find those little ones safe and sound, maybe he won’t be okay –’
A few seconds later, she nodded to the adjacent room. ‘They certainly won’t be.’
Georgie’s mind flicked to the people from Bullock she’d met through her feature story late last year. Survivors of a catastrophic wildfire event, some dusted themselves off and went on with their lives, albeit permanently altered, while others crumbled – the impact on each person as indiscriminate as the fire that razed one property and left its neighbour untouched.
She switched back to the search.
If we don’t bring the kids home safely,
imagine the shockwave through Daylesford and here in the hills…the domino effect all over Victoria…no, Australia.
Georgie shuddered.
Particularly if the kids died violently.
News on TV seemed to be one story after another of death and destruction. Just about every person had a mobile phone, so there were amateur photojournalists on hand to capture and virtually live-feed every gruesome event. Not much was taboo, very little was edited out and Georgie sometimes wondered when they’d become immune to or addicted to graphic violence.
But when little kids were involved, it traumatised the public and struck hard even for seasoned journos and cops.
Vikki spoke and Georgie glanced at her, wondering what she’d said but worrying about the aftermath of all this on her friends: Kat, Sam, Josh and Lunny. They would each blame themselves. But as she and Lunny were the most senior supervisors on camp, they were ultimately responsible for the kids and had failed them.
She could deal with her culpability if the kids came home safely.
But if they don’t…
Georgie’s gut burned when she thought of Franklin. His commitment to the kids in his community went well beyond any duty of care imposed by his blue uniform and badge. She sent him a silent message: You’ll find them, Jack.
She rolled her eyes upward but without seeing the ceiling. Instead, she pictured the Savages. Cooper, already a heartthrob at five. Riley, a whirlwind like his younger brother. Hannah, who in some ways reminded Georgie of both herself and Kat. And according to Kat, the girl loved her mum and brothers fiercely.
So what the hell has she got them mixed up in?
Chapter 25
Sam heard a cry and glanced over, wincing when Kat slipped with her arms flailing and slewed into the metre-wide base of a gumtree.
‘Are you okay?’
Kat waved.
‘Need a hand?’
‘No, I’ll be right.’
She didn’t sound it.
‘I’ve stuffed up my patch enough by falling over.’
That was true, so Sam held back. Assessing her friend from the distance, she thought Kat looked embarrassed and in a bit of pain. She watched Kat test her ankle, then place more pressure on it.
‘Should I call a medic?’
Kat brushed debris off her muddied pants and gingerly straightened. She paled.
‘No way. I’ll fake it ’til I make it if I have to.’
She shot Sam a determined grin.
It was Georgie’s turn to monitor the various social media sites on the communal laptop. Meanwhile, she trawled the web for links to the kids’ biological father on her own computer – she couldn’t afford to lose her trail of open tabs and bookmarks when it came time to transfer the shared laptop to Josh or one of the cops.
Thank whatever god is out there for WiFi.
Last night, they’d convoyed down View Road behind Ando’s ute, turned left and travelled along a stretch of Mount Dandenong Tourist Road. They’d taken a right onto Inverness Road and when that virtually became a single lane, Ando had indicated left again and they’d followed her up a steep, curving driveway. A trip of five or so minutes.
As soon as they’d had the tour of the log cabin, which was large but basic, Georgie set up her computer on the kitchen table.
Ando had given her a wry smile. ‘I can’t get broadband here.’
Georgie had checked her phone and her stomach sank: no service bars. ‘Blackspot for phones too?’
‘You can be lucky.’ The SES woman mimed holding up a mobile and sweeping it through the air. ‘Landline, scanner and radio work fine though.’
So Georgie had to abort her plan to work through the night and instead dozed fitfully.
She’d been torn this morning. Although she didn’t think they’d find the kids in the bush, she wanted to join the search in the National Park. But she was also anxious to resume her online inquiries at Upalong.
She desperately wanted Rick Savage to be the culprit, and for him to be motivated by latent paternal feeling. Any other reason for the kids’ disappearance was far more sinister. And tracing him was something she could do.
Manthorp hadn’t prioritised an online investigation. For now, she focused on physical searches, follow-ups to interviews and doorknocks, and whatever the cops manning the Daylesford station could uncover from that end. She was happy for Georgie to help monitor the social network stuff until someone from Computer Crimes arrived, taking advantage of unlimited WiFi at Upalong. But she didn’t know about the secondary line to Georgie’s work.
Something the detective said before the search party left kept repeating in her mind, driving her at a manic pace.
With every hour the kids are missing, the chance of finding them massively decreases.
Over the top of the aromas of eucalyptus and damp soil, Sam again smelt something like chives – it wasn’t chives, but clumps of pretty white bell-shaped flowers in the scrub she was scouring through. She listened to a conversation between two searchers.
‘Dogs found anything?’
‘Nah. Not last I heard, anyhow. They went ballistic when their handlers took them to the spot where they found the little kiddie’s toy, right, but apparently they haven’t caught the scent since.’
Sam sighed. That was their day so far.
They’d found a few possible shoeprints about thirty minutes ago, but they were partials obscured by hoof prints of deer running wild in the forest, and could easily belong to bushwalkers who trekked through the popular park. While wet ground was good for casting footprints, unless protected from further deluges they quickly washed away, with the anxious movements of wallabies, deer, feral dogs and foxes during the recent stormy days completing the obliteration.
If the Savage kids had been there, nature had done its best to destroy any evidence.
So far anyway.
‘I can’t do this,’ broke Georgie’s concentration. Neither of the parents had spoken for so long that she’d forgotten they were in the room. She glanced at Duane, noting that his hair above his high forehead stuck out in all directions.
He was staring at his fiancé. Then he glared straight at Georgie, before he turned his eyes back on Ness. He gave a low growl and pivoted, moving towards the door to the garage.
Vikki said, ‘Duane. I think you –’
He didn’t turn or speak, but raised one hand above his head. He used the other to yank open the door.
Vikki trailed him outside and returned a minute later. ‘He’s taken the car – probably gone to search some more.’
She’d spoken to Ness, her tone bright, yet out of the woman’s sight Vikki lifted her shoulders and palms at Georgie, clearly worried about Duane too.
Georgie swore under her breath. She should’ve followed him out and jumped in the car with him. He might be about to crack and do something stupid or dangerous.
She couldn’t stop her mind taking a more disturbing leap. Maybe Duane wasn’t the benevolent stepdad-to-be they thought he was and had engineered whatever happened to the kids.
Her lips pulled. The detectives had ruled it unlikely, but would dig deeper the longer the kids remained missing.
Meanwhile, he could be on his way to where the kids are stashed to reverse what he’d set in motion.
Or finish it.
She shivered.
Hannah
Hannah was semi-awake, enough that she realised she wasn’t shivering any more but weirdly dreaming of being on the loo, letting go a big wee, one she’d been holding for too long, and rolling her eyes with relief because she’d made it.
She dozed again, came to, thinking her bladder was going to burst. But she’d hold on a bit longer…the effort to move was just too massive.
A growling dog woke her. Its rumbly snarl and wheeze got more and more worked up until it sounded like it wanted to tear off someone’s head.
OMG, is it in the house?
Hannah was petrified and her bladder was exploding. She tried to block
out the dog and the need to wee by humming in her head. She felt herself drifting off.
A while later, a man yelled right next to her ear. ‘The bitch has pissed herself again.’
Mean laughter made her heart flutter, almost as scared as she’d been of the growling dog.
She heard a fly unzip, bit her tongue to stop herself screaming and tasted blood. Scared to death, she pretended to be out of it, waiting for hands to grope her. Instead, warm liquid streamed onto her face. Urine leaked into her mouth and she wanted to yell, move away, nearly gagged. Just held it back. The taste of wee grossed her out, but she couldn’t react or they’d know she was awake.
And this was nowhere near the worst of what they planned to do to her.
A second man spoke in a higher voice. ‘Why’d you bother with her?’
There was a lip-smacking sound and more laughter, before the first man said, ‘Hot pics.’
Hannah’s insides shrunk.
‘She looks like death, mate,’ said High Voice. ‘Just fuck her and dump her, yeah?’
‘I’m not going near the bitch while she’s like that.’ Deep Voice whooped and her skin crawled. ‘She’s gotta be awake to be the star of the party.’
Chapter 26
Georgie followed Dean Pickett with her eyes. The guy moved constantly while he used his mobile, read messages and reports, and checked in with the three uniformed cops also working phones and laptops.
In keeping with his short, swift strides, the detective spoke in a machine-gun rattle. Terse, efficient and, Georgie guessed, explosive. She didn’t want to ever get on his bad side.
Pickett looked over a policewoman’s shoulder, gripping her chairback, his knuckles white.
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