Into the Fog

by Sandi Wallace

  ‘I saw her, but not clearly. Just a hazy outline, a flash of colour.’ He shook his head. ‘No, maybe it was the flash of motion, not colour because I think she was wearing black. Yes, I’m sure she was wearing all black.’

  Franklin inhaled. Kat slackened against his arm, while Ando’s face darkened.

  Hannah had been dressed in all black. She’d worn a black hoodie with black leggings and no coat.

  The wind buffeted Franklin hard enough to make him stagger.

  Chapter 28

  Georgie made it back to the threshold of the family room before the frantic futility pulsing through the place hit her afresh. She sighed, her heart heavy, recognising the same feeling in the facial expressions of those around her.

  The only exception was Dean Pickett. He jostled colleagues as he hunted for better mobile reception.

  ‘Who? Sorry, we have a bad line. Say again?’

  Georgie’s phone vibrated and she checked the screen, dreading two callers – ex-boyfriend AJ and magazine editor Sheridan Judd. She’d ignored both earlier today. But the text was from Matt Gunnerson and her shoulders relaxed.

  ‘Got nothing more than what was in my article this AM. Managed to keep your names out of it for now. Updates your end?’

  She wrote back ‘None’ as Pickett repeated, ‘Say again?’ and halted. He made a winding motion, commented too quietly for Georgie to hear, then listened.

  She straightened, intrigued by the detective’s body language, hopeful for the first time in hours.

  Pickett ended his call and stood with his hands on his hips. He reached up to rub between his top lip and nose. Georgie inched forward.

  With a sharp nod, he marched to the only whiteboard that faced the wall. He twisted it around and plucked up a red marker.

  Now Georgie wasn’t the only one who watched him. The noise level dropped too, although scattered telephone conversations continued. She stared at Pickett.

  He turned to skim over the room and nodded.

  Checking that someone specific’s watching…or not watching?

  She copied his action but couldn’t work it out.

  The marker nib touched the whiteboard and Pickett drew a vertical line with an arrow under Catherine Belfrage’s name. Georgie’s eyes narrowed. The absentee co-owner of Upalong couldn’t be a player in the Savage kids’ disappearance – she’d been in the UK long before the police camp. Yet apparently, Pickett had been checking that Patrick Belfrage and his employees weren’t around to see whatever he was about to record on the witness-slash-suspect whiteboard.

  Georgie hissed the words he wrote under her breath. ‘Left husband (Patrick Belfrage) suddenly. Exactly when? Some scandal. What? Holed up with friends. Where?’

  Pickett called out, ‘Look here, people. It’s vague but it’s a lead.’

  Someone cheered.

  ‘Don’t drop your bundles, but it’s something to bear in mind in our dealings with,’ he pointed the whiteboard marker at the name Patrick Belfrage, ‘and co.’

  The sky turned black and the wind changed direction, rising and crashing like the pound of surf. Sleet pelted Sam and the hundreds of others exhausted after hours of searching the bush in slippery, arctic conditions.

  If this storm didn’t ease as suddenly as it had hit, they’d be forced to abort. With about eighty-five per cent of the search zone covered, they were so close to the finish line that Sam wanted to push on regardless. Yet she knew this latest deluge would wipe away anything of significance.

  Frustration took her breath away. She arched her back to force open her chest and tested deeper breaths, knowing the winded sensation was only a stress reaction.

  She hadn’t injured herself…unlike the poor CFA guy.

  Sam shivered, reliving the unmistakable snap and crash of a tree limb, followed by frenzied shouts, vague reports of someone hurt and then the scream of an ambulance ten or fifteen minutes later. A worrying gap of nearly an hour – until they got news that he was in a serious but stable condition.

  That summed up the search too: serious but stable. No, it was way worse than that: critical condition. For their efforts, they’d stumbled upon one sole witness, a ranger who looked after a historic site within the National Park. Barely a couple of buildings, some foundations and bits of the garden – Sam was surprised they allocated a ranger to it, but it was a noteworthy tourist attraction, apparently.

  The ranger had reportedly sighted Hannah, although Franklin admitted to Sam that as far as he was concerned, the jury was out on the man’s credibility. No evidence was discovered where he said he’d chased her, though the tyre tracks from his vehicle may’ve destroyed what was there.

  Besides the ranger, they’d found various partial footprints and an assortment of probable junk. A broken camera that used actual film and had to be wound-on manually – far too old to be relevant. Dozens of cigarette butts. A pair of female undies, ladies size 14 – they’d literally fall off Hannah’s hips. One men’s runner that was too large to fit any of the Savage kids. Fragments of material that looked degraded, as if they’d been in the weather for much longer than two days. And a mobile phone: flat, with a cracked screen, it also seemed to predate the kids’ disappearance.

  Photographed in situ, casts were made of the footprints and the items bagged to go to Forensics for examination.

  It felt hopeless, although Sam knew they were throwing everything at the search.

  The teams back at Upalong and Daylesford, dogs, choppers, line searchers, doorknockers, computer crime and sexual offences experts were all busting themselves, desperate to find the kids before they had to spend another night in the open…or worse.

  If she dwelled on the or worse she’d have a heart attack. She rolled her eyes to the leaden sky above.

  Please God, let them be safe from predators.

  Thunder boomed. Its vibrations still shook through the ground when it came down the line that the search had been called off.

  It seemed ominous. As did that the ranger only saw Hannah, not the boys. The implications haunted her.

  Georgie squinted at the computer screen, her head tilted. She strained at the photo until convinced, then dialled a number on her mobile. It didn’t ring – the line hung for a second before it cut out. She redialled.

  This time, it went to voicemail. She left a message, frowned at the phone, stared at the computer and finally yelled, ‘I think I’ve got a hit on Rick Savage!’

  A mass of people crowded around her, speaking at once in a blast of noise.

  Georgie pointed at the screen. ‘Goes by Ric Spicer but looks like our Rick Savage, yes?’

  ‘Make way, make way.’

  The 2IC detective from Lilydale elbowed through the throng. Pickett squashed in behind Georgie, and although their bodies didn’t contact, the nerves in her left shoulder jangled from the close proximity. She shifted slightly, and as her old injury resettled she noticed the mob had silenced.

  ‘A rodeo clown?’ Pickett pointed at the screen. ‘Mount Isa, hey?’

  ‘Where’s Mount Isa?’ someone asked.

  Pickett supplied, ‘North-west Queensland.’

  He used a clipped tone but Georgie had come to realise it wasn’t personal. He was intelligent and anxious for results, with no time to waste.

  ‘What’s the date on this article?’ he asked.

  Georgie checked. ‘Saturday 13 August – this year.’

  ‘Seven weeks ago. Good. So it’s a fairly fresh trail.’

  ‘I could dig to see if he’s part of a regular rodeo circuit. Maybe that’ll lead us to where he is now. It’s a weekend. Most rodeos happen on weekends, don’t they?’

  ‘That’s one angle. But maybe he’s a resident of Mount Isa and only does that rodeo.’

  ‘Could you get the local cops onto inquiries?’

  Pickett nodded, already holding his phone. ‘Yep. After that, we need to talk about what you think you’re doing.’ He cocked his head. ‘Jules told you no badge, no part of this in
vestigation.’

  Georgie bristled, then squared her shoulders. ‘I’m just accessing what’s out there on the world wide web. And if my research happens to assist your police investigation, I’d consider that healthy cooperation between the press and police, wouldn’t you?’

  He thought about it, smirked and drifted away. Georgie heard him say, ‘Get me the number for Mount Isa Police, cheers.’

  She figured she had a green light to continue.

  And if not, I’ll do it anyway.

  The small victory soured in her throat. She wished it hadn’t taken all day to follow the shadow of Rick Savage’s past to Queensland.

  Hannah

  Sometimes Hannah was awake but scared stiff by the stuff Deep Voice and his friend were saying. Other times, her body hurt all over.

  She went between hot and freezing and seriously thinking she was dying…when she wasn’t out of it, having bad dreams, or else awake but weirdly numb.

  Someone, maybe High Voice, had covered her with a rug or something since she was last awake. It felt heavy. She shrank down on the spiky bed, so it covered up to her mouth. She couldn’t nose-breathe properly, but even through thick snot could tell the rug stank.

  She started to drop off again but woke with a start, remembering a man and a van.

  He’d said, ‘I’m Haydn’s mate. He’s got car troubles.’

  He was good looking but older than Haydn and had like a goatee thing happening. He’d smiled and if he was a friend of Haydn’s, it must be okay.

  ‘He asked me to pick you up. Let’s go.’

  She’d shaken her head. ‘Gotta find my little brothers first.’

  He’d grabbed her arm, twisting it hard and breathing beer all over her. ‘You never said you were bringing your fucken brothers.’

  Hannah’s heart went crazy. She saw dots in her eyes and blacked out.

  Chapter 29

  Franklin’s mouth brushed her right ear, his skin icy cold but his breath warm. ‘Got your message about Rick Savage. Well done, Ms Writer.’

  The words held none of the arrogance of the first time he’d called her that and a little smile played on her lips.

  Her mobile rang. She checked it and her smile dissolved as she rejected the call.

  ‘Who was that?’

  Good, he hadn’t spotted the name on screen.

  ‘Some grow-your-wealth company that won’t leave me alone.’ She was shocked at how quickly the lie fell from her mouth.

  She’d forgotten all about AJ. With a punch of guilt, she admitted that was symptomatic of their relationship in its last year, although it hadn’t been one-sided.

  She recalled Matty saying, So this isn’t about AJ? You know he’s back? Her pulse pounded in her ears.

  Why is he back and so desperate to speak?

  And why the hell does it have to be now?

  Franklin felt pumped. They’d made some headway today – frustratingly puny steps, but they seemed pointed in the right direction.

  If the ranger was a credible witness, it meant Hannah had been at the Doongalla homestead site on Thursday morning.

  Thursday? Just yesterday, but it feels like weeks ago.

  He didn’t like the idea of the kids splitting up, and told himself if Hannah was there, her brothers were too – the ranger just hadn’t spotted them. Unfortunately, where they went after that was still a big fat unknown.

  On the positive side again, Franklin sensed Georgie had uncovered a solid lead and they were close to putting their hands on Savage. With a bit of luck, they’d soon be able to interrogate him about any involvement in his children’s disappearance.

  He wanted in on that. He wanted to lead the interview and he’d bust his arse trying.

  He pictured how it’d go. If the bloke did live in Queensland, it’d be the local cops who’d do the initial grilling. A couple of detectives might get to fly up from Victoria to partner into subsequent interviews. Extradition back to Victoria would happen later, if they collated sufficient evidence. The suggestion of including a uniform cop well out of his jurisdiction would give everyone but him a good belly laugh. And there was no forgetting that the Daylesford cops, including him, had been cut from the case.

  I’ll be pushing shit uphill but I’ll still ask.

  He paced the room, as best he could around an excess of furniture and burly bodies standing or pacing themselves. His wet clothes chafed but he wouldn’t waste time returning to Ando’s house.

  The next lap of tense strides brought him to where Sam and Lunny conferred, still in their wet clothes too. Kat had also refused to leave, although Franklin wasn’t sure where she was right now.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he cut in.

  Lunny lifted a brow.

  ‘This camp was my idea. I’m responsible for the kids being here in the first place. So I’m responsible for cocking up and letting them walk out.’

  Sam’s olive skin bloomed red. Admittedly, he could’ve worded it better, but she needed a thicker skin if she wanted to see more than five years’ service in the force.

  ‘I know we’re short at Daylesford with one thing and another. I’m going to stay on –’

  Lunny objected. ‘Hold on. You’re –’

  Franklin stopped him with a palm. ‘I know I’m rostered on tomorrow, Sunday and Monday arvos, then at Ballarat Tuesday. But you or Sam could cover my shifts back home. I’ll work something out with Bull for the CI shifts and see this through until I bring the kids home safely.’

  Sam glared at him for a few seconds, then snapped, ‘How selfish of you.’

  She clamped her lips shut and Franklin felt his eyes stretch.

  She recovered before he did. ‘Lunny and I are more obligated than you to bring the kids home. We were here. Everyone forever-and-a-day will blame us, to some extent. So if you think we’re going to switch shifts so you can bring the kids home safely, newsflash: we’re not.’

  Her gaze flicked to Lunny. ‘Are we, Sarge?’

  Lunny eyed them both and Franklin wondered which way he’d swing. They’d been buddies and workmates for years. Sam was still the newbie, although she’d proven to be the best newbie since Harty had walked through the squeaky front door at Daylesford.

  Lunny stood and aligned himself next to her. ‘I think Sam summed it up nicely.’

  Unlike Sam, the sarge sounded easy-going.

  ‘We’re staying.’ His voice held a firmer edge. ‘The camp would’ve finished on Sunday and we were both due to have two rest days before going back on shift. If after Tuesday the kids are still missing, God forbid, then we’ll have to review things. But until then, there’s no question: Sam and I’ll be here, unless we’ve found the kids.’

  Lunny and Sam stared at Franklin. He didn’t know what to say.

  After a pause, the sarge added, ‘And you’ll be doing what you’re supposed to be doing.’

  Sam couldn’t get over Franklin, and couldn’t believe she’d just dumped on him. Her cheeks went hot.

  He’s a better cop than I might ever be, but there’s no way I could go home and go about normal jobs while this is still hanging over us. I don’t know what I’ll do if the kids…

  She quashed the thought. Worst-case scenarios were cancerous to investigations and the investigators involved.

  ‘Franklin, I couldn’t help but overhear that conversation.’

  Intentionally or not, Jules Manthorp’s voice reached Sam.

  The boss might’ve been about to reply, but the detective spoke again. ‘First, let me make this clear: you lot from Daylesford have no official role here in this matter and I’d like to see you all leave in the morning.’

  Sam snuck a glance at Jules. Between her expression and choice of words, it seemed that although she wanted them gone, she expected them to hang around the fringes.

  ‘So you’re back on shift at Daylesford tomorrow?’

  Franklin shrugged. ‘I guess I am.’

  The detective nodded. ‘Okay, here’s the thing. There are m
any aspects of this case that I can’t let any of you near because none of us wants to balls-up a safe and speedy outcome or even ultimately a conviction, right? And you’re also obligated back home.’ Her mildly apologetic tone changed with, ‘But you can work a line for me at the Daylesford end.’

  Sam stopped pretending she wasn’t listening and edged closer.

  ‘You’re the best person to push inquiries with Hannah’s friends. Apparently, you’re quite the hero with local kids.’

  ‘Ah, not really. Youth Liaison is one of my portfolios at Daylesford. So I get to know most of them through Blue Light discos, outings, the boxing initiative, camps –’ Franklin broke off.

  ‘Don’t argue. I’m told you’re a champ with the kids and I believe it. So, push the friends, especially Hannah’s. Has she got a secret life? Acted different lately? Dabbled with drugs or alcohol? Gotten herself a boyfriend? Fallen pregnant?’

  The boss nodded repeatedly and Sam found herself copying.

  Both the detective and Franklin stood taller, clearly galvanised.

  ‘Somebody saw those kids.’ Jules lifted her voice. ‘Somebody knows something. My team will work this end. You go find the missing link at Daylesford, matey.’

  Chapter 30

  Georgie’s eyes burned but she couldn’t tear them from the screen. Savage/Spicer hadn’t left much of a trail. She’d tried most of her skip tracing methods from her old paralegal days, but he was either very good at being a ghost or had dumb luck. It was ages since Pickett put the Mount Isa cops on the chase and that doubled her determination to track him first.

  She muttered to herself, ‘If you find him at a rodeo up in Queensland, it probably means he’s in the clear.’

  The Queensland Rodeo Association had no events listed for this weekend and she quickly exhausted a maze of threads that led her nowhere.