Into the Fog

by Sandi Wallace

  Cale snorted. ‘Does she, much.’

  Bianca elaborated. ‘He abandoned them before little Coops came along, right, but she always talks like he had to leave.’

  ‘Does she blame her mum?’

  Tracey said, ‘Kind of…for letting him go.’

  He nodded. ‘Is she angry with her?’

  ‘No way.’ Bianca’s voice was sharp.

  Franklin asked, ‘Is she in touch with him?’

  ‘Nuh. She’s tried, but.’

  Grace pulled a heavy frown. ‘She never stops.’

  ‘Harder than usual lately?’

  She said, ‘Maybe, yeah, probably.’

  Franklin clicked it all together. ‘And how did Hannah feel about Duane?’

  Strict, controlling, bossy and boring gushed over the top of each other.

  ‘So, when Ness and Duane got engaged –?’

  ‘Her brothers’re kinda excited about having a new dad but Hanny’s dicked,’ Cale said.

  Angry enough for a more determined search for her dad?

  Did she find him?

  How did he take it?

  Chapter 44

  Matty had passed on the information about Haydn Wylder in confidence and to break his trust, Georgie risked their mateship and his career. But she feared withholding it could be catastrophic.

  She checked the time: thirty minutes until her catch-up with AJ. Without consciously deciding, she speed-dialled a number and listened to it ring. Even before it switched to the recording, she’d given up hope. Her short message seemed inadequate.

  Someone cleared their throat and Georgie looked around, shocked to see all but a single set of lights were off and the café was deserted except for her and one of the staff.

  ‘Sorry, love. I can only stay another five minutes. If I’m late picking up my kids it’ll be more ammunition for their stepmum to use against me.’

  Franklin sat behind the wheel of his Commodore wondering what he’d gained from talking to Hannah’s friends – aside from a deeper ache in his heart when he thought about the chain reaction of the kids’ disappearance. He teared up thinking What if they come home in coffins? Thank fuck nobody was around.

  He blinked the blur from his eyes at a tap on the window by his ear. Jess’s face pressed to the glass right as his mobile silently vibrated. Franklin thumbed over his shoulder and she circled the sedan and jumped into the passenger side.

  She took a breath, then said, ‘You wanted to know if Hanny changed lately?’

  He nodded.

  He could tell she still felt torn so he didn’t crowd or rush her. After a minute, the girl patted her chest over her heart twice. The gesture mystified Franklin.

  ‘Coulda been, I dunno, four months ago.’

  ‘Right,’ he encouraged her.

  ‘Well, I found Hanny on Myspace…’ She dropped her eyes. ‘I never told the others I like to hang out there becoz they think it’s lame. But I’m really into music—guitar—not that I’m good enough to be in a band or anything, but for me Myspace’s unreal. Anyways, one day I came across a girl on a blog and I went to her profile and realised it was Hannah. But this rock chick was called Rikki James.’

  Franklin choked. Hannah’s dad was Richard James Savage – not much of a leap from that to Rikki James. Then he remembered the damaged mobile retrieved from the bush had the message leavin in 15 ru still comin rikki? Hannah called herself Rikki. The phone must’ve been hers.

  ‘Soooo,’ Jess dragged out the word, catching his attention. ‘One day I was here and Bee’s mum called her out of the room. She had Facebook on and I had a sneak around and found Rikki James. Without friending her, I couldn’t see that much. But –’

  She stopped.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nearly all of her pics were selfies and she looked really diff to our Hanny.’ She scrunched up her nose. ‘I could see she had almost 1000 friends back then and had liked over 400 pages.’

  Franklin held up a hand. ‘1000 friends?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  He needed to feed this back to the command post ASAP.

  ‘This is great info, Jess, and I need to pass it on…is there anything else that you can think of that might help?’

  She frowned and shrugged. It wasn’t a decisive no.

  He took a further stab. ‘Are you sure?’

  He peppered her with questions and she shook her head to each, then slipped out of the car. He lifted two fingers from the wheel as he cranked the engine. She fluttered a wave back, holding her stomach.

  ‘That’s it!’ Georgie rose with her laptop balanced in one hand as she grabbed her phone, dialling Franklin again. She heard a thud, felt a bump to her knee a second later.

  With her hands full, Georgie couldn’t stop the coffee table tipping. She watched the contents surge to the edge. She swore as the sugar bowl skidded forward and overturned, grains scattering. Her coffee mug bounced on the floorboards but didn’t break.

  Eyes wide, Georgie turned to find somewhere to put the computer, so she could scoop up the sugar, saying, ‘Sorry!’ But all the tabletops were covered by inverted chairs.

  The woman hurried over. ‘Leave it. I’ll fix it.’ She touched Georgie’s shoulder. ‘I hope whatever you’ve just discovered brings those children home.’

  ‘So do I.’ Georgie’s voice was husky.

  A call came through the Commodore’s Bluetooth, reminding Franklin that he’d forgotten to check his phone after he’d finished with Jess and informed Manthorp about the leads the girl had provided. The detective was pumped, thanked him for Something useful at bloody last.

  He saw Georgie’s name and thumbed connect while his brain pounded with crazy thoughts about her and her ex, if that’s what he still was.

  ‘Did you get my message?’

  She rushed on about a lead she’d gotten off Matt Gunnerson.

  The brother of her ex. I don’t like this.

  A minute later, he parked his insecurities repeating, ‘Hayden Wilder.’

  ‘Yeah.’ She spelt it out. ‘And remember the mobile they found –’

  ‘The texts between Rikki and Haydn.’ Franklin’s insides heated.

  ‘So this Rikki’s also in trouble.’

  ‘No, Georgie. It’s Hanny, using the alias Rikki James.’ He shared what he’d learnt from Jess. ‘I need to let Manthorp know about Wylder.’

  ‘You can’t.’ She explained adding, ‘Can’t you check him out on the quiet?’

  It could cost him his job, but he’d do it for her.

  He ignored a spasm of guilt, found consolation. ‘Now that Manthorp knows about Hanny’s alias, she’ll twig that the messages from Haydn may be significant…’

  Would that be enough for them to join the dots?

  ‘That’s not all.’

  Franklin heard her excitement rise and piloted the car to the curb so he could concentrate.

  ‘I’ve been digging into Zena Betka. I’ve found two images that have the same guy in the background and something about him makes my antennae twitch.’

  Pumped, he slapped the steering wheel.

  ‘He’s leaning against a maroon Mercedes in one pic, a black Porsche in another…imagine if he turns out to be Wylder.’

  ‘It could break two cases –’

  ‘I’ll text you links. Check out the Porsche – there’s a partial number plate.’

  ‘You bloody beauty!’

  ‘Yeah.’ She sounded flat, adding, ‘I’ve got to go meet –’

  He didn’t want to hear it and cut her off. ‘I’ll look out for your text.’

  Before hitting the next address, they stopped at the Olinda police station. Bernie did what he had to do, while Lunny paced. Sam sat at the spare desk and pictured the shops they’d passed. Each building, including the pubs, an upmarket restaurant and the toilet block, bore posters of the missing kids, as did most street poles in the precinct. They often sat alongside faded and tattered ones for Zena Betka, which left a metallic taste of despair in h
er mouth.

  They finally jumped back into Bernie’s marked truck.

  He asked, ‘Who’s the next wacko on our list?’

  Wacko was a bit strong, although their last interviewee had been so spacey that they decided she could only be telling the truth: she hadn’t seen their kids.

  Sam checked the details. ‘Serenity Integrative Health.’ She gave him the address.

  ‘Wait ’til I tell Vikki about this.’ Bernie feigned a serious face and said, ‘My important contribution today involved tea leaves, crystals, chakra and,’ he swept his hands, ‘positive energy flows.’

  Lunny and Sam laughed. Then Rolling in the Deep fired on her mobile and Franklin’s name lit the screen before she took the call.

  Without a hello, he said, ‘Listen up.’

  Sam couldn’t tell if it was good news. She activated speakerphone and held the mobile between the front seats as he filled them in on Haydn Wylder and Rikki James. They were getting close. God help them if they were too late though.

  They arrived at the address as Franklin rang off. Sam was reaching for the door lever when her phone sounded again.

  ‘Shorty?’

  Lunny and Bernie were half-way out of the truck.

  ‘Sam, Ness has collapsed. She’s in Knox Private, secluded and sedated.’ Ty spoke softly, urgently. ‘She’s exhausted, malnourished and dehydrated.’

  Sam’s breath whistled out. ‘The poor woman.’

  ‘It’s viral on Twitter and heading that way on Facebook. The rest will pick it up quickly, if they haven’t already.’

  She swore. After Ty disconnected, she did a search on her phone, landing on a picture of Ness in a hospital bed captioned, ‘Mother hospitalised as police hold grave fears for missing children’. She looked like death.

  Lunny pulled on her forearm until he could see the screen. He closed his eyes and let out a moan.

  Bernie leaned in. ‘Bloody cameras on phones make any idiot a fifteen-second newsbreaker and bugger the consequences.’

  Sam nodded mutely. In the space of a few days, Ness had lost her kids, privacy and dignity. Some segments of the media and public had supported the parents in an outpouring of sympathy and grief, while others had turned on them, full of blame and speculation. No doubt some would see Ness’s collapse as a sign of guilt.

  Sam sensed Lunny stiffen.

  ‘Righto. Now we work triply hard to find her kids.’ His voice was strained but determined.

  Georgie walked about a kilometre up the Tourist Road from the café, chafing her arms against the icy chill. The Dog and Duck was a mock English tavern and obviously popular: the car park was full, with vehicles squeezed in at every angle.

  She checked her watch. She was early…and still didn’t know if she wanted to be there or how she’d feel when she saw AJ.

  Georgie stepped inside, assailed by laughter, loud voices, chinks of glassware and food scents that smelt good but made her stomach contract and churn. She took in the masses of people around the wood-panelled bar and the bartenders almost running to keep up with demand but still smiling.

  It struck her that since Hanny, Riles and Coops disappeared, she’d breathed, eaten, drunk and not slept thinking about the missing kids. And the same went for everyone directly connected with the case.

  Meanwhile, the rest of the universe was still turning as if nothing had happened. By the looks of the revellers with blue-and-white-striped scarves around their necks, the Cats had won the Grand Final. Others seemed to be regular happy-hour patrons, probably locals, tidied up but comfy, propped on the thick wooden bar or in the booths. She guessed the people at tables to her left were tourists – they’d blend in around her home in Richmond but stuck out here.

  None of them was affected by the kids vanishing.

  Georgie headed to the bar and ordered a scotch, neat. She inhaled the peaty aroma, enjoyed the softening of rigid muscles in her shoulders. A sip, fire on her tongue, then warmth burned down her throat and into her gullet. She sighed. Regardless of why she was here and the eventual outcome, she needed this timeout.

  As she swallowed the next mouthful, her phone buzzed with a text from Kat: ‘All good. In moonboot kinda cool @Ando’s 4 fish n chips. L8er. K xx’

  Georgie frowned, mortified that she’d forgotten about Katz.

  She replied and slipped the mobile into her jacket pocket.

  Franklin returned to the station. Harty was on his own, the other boys on patrol, calls or checking in with their families. Slam was giving Maeve a hand at the stationhouse next door; they’d be back with dinner shortly.

  He outlined the latest.

  ‘Want me to see what I can find on Facebook and Myspace?’

  ‘Sounds good, Harty.’ Franklin was an IT knucklehead, and while Manthorp had computer geeks checking out Hannah’s alter ego, it felt crucial to set their own team on the job. He had checks pending on the Wylder character, something he was adept at, but snatched up his keys again.

  A neighbour was keeping an eye on Ness and Duane’s mail and would alert them if anything promising turned up. But he should do a drive-by to ensure the place was untouched.

  He was glad he’d listened to his gut when he arrived minutes later.

  Flowers were piled up on the footpath and several bunches were fixed to the front fence next to handmade posters and photographs of the kids.

  He steered up the driveway, drew on the Commodore’s handbrake and inhaled sharply when he spotted balloons tied to the flywire door and a huddle of kids on the lawn.

  The balloons were green, blue and yellow, bouncing off each other, bobbing in the breeze, their colours boosted by the camping lantern on the front doormat. As he approached on foot, he saw that each bore one word: green had ‘Hanny’, blue ‘Riles’ and yellow ‘Coops’.

  He joined the kids, hunkering down inside a circle of candles. Cale had a yellow balloon hanging from his lips. Bianca drew a love heart with a thick black marker on a green one. The others were all blowing, tying off or writing on balloons.

  Franklin reached for a green one and puffed into it. When he’d done that one, Jess took it, attached a string and wrote Hannah’s nickname on it. Once Jess finished, Tracey looped it onto the spokes of the bike lying next to her.

  Still without a word between them, Grace handed Franklin a yellow balloon.

  They blew up several more before he hazarded, ‘Are these the kids’ favourite colours?’

  ‘Hanny’s is green, yeah,’ Bianca said. ‘We don’t know for sure for the boys, but Riley likes to wear blue and Coops nearly always has yellow on.’

  Franklin nodded.

  Grace added, ‘And we think the colours mean, like, “hope”.’ She hooked her fingers.

  Cale released a tri-coloured bundle from the bike and moved to attach the balloon cords to a rose bush. Tracey fixed hers to one of the carriage lights on the house front.

  ‘We’ve found out that Hannah had an online name and used Myspace and Facebook a bit.’ Franklin kept it casual.

  Bianca said, ‘Yeah, Jess told us.’

  ‘Think she might’ve had a mobile?’

  Franklin blew up another balloon while the kids exchanged looks.

  ‘My parents change phones every few years,’ Tracey said, plonking on the lawn again. ‘We have a drawer full of old ones at home. Hannah asked if she could use one with a recharge card and I helped her out.’

  She gave him the phone’s make and number – details he would feed to Manthorp as soon as he finished here, underscoring again the mobile traffic with Haydn.

  Cale said, ‘She only wanted it for emergencies.’

  ‘Like, because her mum couldn’t afford to get her one,’ Grace added.

  Franklin worded his next question carefully. ‘Thinking back, is there a chance Hanny has a boyfriend?’ It allowed them to backflip on what they’d said earlier without having to admit a lie.

  Cale said, ‘Definitely not.’

  Bianca mumbled, ‘Um. She wanted to know how
to kiss a little while ago.’ She shot Cale a glance. ‘Sorry.’

  He flushed.

  ‘I’ve had a boyfriend…she just wanted to know for when it happens one day.’

  Franklin asked, ‘When?’

  ‘Dunno. Maybe a month or so?’

  ‘A one-day thing? She didn’t mention a new crush or that she was meeting a boy?’

  ‘No.’

  He reminded himself to go softly. ‘Does she know someone called Haydn Wylder?’

  Cale frowned. The kids shook their heads.

  ‘Can you think of anything else about Hannah or her brothers that’s been different in the past few months?’ An uninflated green balloon jiggled between Franklin’s fingers as he gestured. ‘Remember, nobody’s going to get mad or blame anyone, and even the smallest thing could be helpful.’

  Five glum faces told him they wished they knew more.

  Georgie drained her scotch, the spirit already fuzzing her mind. I used to hold my drink better wasn’t a talent to brag about. She smiled wryly. Blame it on the emotive past days, lack of sleep and dread of seeing AJ, combined with neat scotch drunk too fast on top of excessive caffeine and very little food.

  With a woodfire roaring in the corner and the press of bodies filling the tavern, it was warm in here. She shrugged off her leather jacket and slung it over the back of her chair, checking her laptop was still in its case at her feet.

  ‘George.’

  Her heart hammered as she swung towards the voice. For the next few seconds, she simply stared.

  Hong Kong must’ve agreed with AJ because he looked buffed.

  He squeezed next to her at the bar, their shoulders touching. She still hadn’t managed a word.

  He tried to start a conversation.

  Her mind blanked.

  Chapter 45