Challis - 04 - Chain of Evidence (17 page)

Looking doubtful, Donna complied.
Katie immediately reached out, alarmed, but Donna reassured her, saying, Its
all right, sweetheart, Im right here.

Out of Katies direct line of sight,
fortunately. Ellen smiled encouragingly at both of them. Katie swallowed,
fighting down her panic, lost in a vast stretch of flowery upholstery. Donna
said from her chair next to Scobie, If Katie cant hack it, Im terminating.
Terminating.

Of course, said Ellen gently.

Sweetie, the police just need to
ask you some questions, okay?

Okay.

Ellen smiled at Katie. My name is
Ellen. That kind man is Scobie. Hes got a daughter your age. And you know
what? Yesterday she pretended to be you. We dressed her up like you, put her on
a bike like yours, and she rode home from your school for us, to help jog
peoples memories.

Katie, mouth open, in awe as she
grasped the significance of the police effort and her notoriety, risked a meek
smile at Scobie. Scobie returned it, a huge, transfiguring smile, one of great
sweetness. Katie relaxed further and turned her attention back to Ellen.

We want to catch the man who hurt
you.

Catch
all
the men, Katie
said.

Ellen said carefully, How many were
there?

I think four.

Ellen closed her eyes briefly,
opened them again. Her voice cracked a little. Four men. Can you describe them
to me?

Katie grimaced, wiping her palms on
her thighs. She wore a striped hooded top over a pink T-shirt and yellow cargo
pants, the colours pastelly and new. Red canvas shoes. Pink ankle socks. Her
fingernails were bright red, but chipped, and Ellen realised with a shock that
the men had probably painted them for her.

They had grey hair and moustaches,
Katie said. And glasses.

All of them?

Yes.

Disguises, Ellen thought. Anything
else?

Katie tossed in distress. I was so
sleepy. I could hardly keep my eyes open.

Temazepam had been found in her
system. Lets concentrate on something else, Ellen said. After school on
Thursday you set out on your bike to ride home.

Yes, whispered Katie.

What route did you take?

Katie looked hunted. She swallowed
and said, I went past the Show.

Donna attempted joviality,
tut-tutting in the background. Oh, Katie, we told you not to do that.

The interruption had an unintended
effect. Katies face grew stubborn, as though she were tired of being nagged,
and this small rebellion made her stronger. Ellen stepped in, taking advantage.
I used to do that, when I was a kid. Did you ride past the Show every day
after school?

Yes.

During those rides, did you ever
see the man who kidnapped you?

No.

Did you ever see a white van
driving or parked nearby?

I cant remember. Dont think so.

But the abductor and his van would
have been nearby, Ellen was convinced of that. Did you ever go into the
showgrounds? Spend your pocket money on the rides, for example, or just wander
around?

With a look at her mother, Katie
whispered, Yes.

Ellen nodded. She would make a
public appeal asking Show visitors to hand in their photographs and video
footage. They might get lucky and spot Katie, particularly Katie being followed
or watched. Describe what happened after you left the Show last Thursday.

Katie took a deep breath and matter-of-factly
described the man who had abducted her and the circumstances of the abduction
itself. Then I woke up in a strange house, she said. I dont remember
getting there. She swallowed once or twice. I hardly remember anything, she
wailed. I felt woozy all the time. My tummy was really sore, I was bleeding.

Donna uttered an inarticulate cry;
Scobie and the nurse murmured reassuringly. Ellen, trying hard not to weep,
said, But youre sure that only one man put you in the van? There were no passengers
inside it?

Im sure.

Did you recognise him?

You already asked me that.

No, said Ellen gently, I asked if
youd seen that man in the days leading up to Thursday.

I didnt know him, said Katie. He
said my mum needed me.

Again Donna wailed. Ellen said above
it, What can you tell me about the van?

It was white.

That will help us very much. Thank
you. What about the inside of it?

Katie cast her mind back. It was
white. There were these boxes and stuff, and plastic bags. Her mind cleared. And
this cute little dog. Sasha.

Ellen beamed. How do you know it
was called Sasha?

It was on her collar, this tag
thing.

Any other name?

I dont remember.

An address, or phone number?

I dont remember!

Thats all right, youre doing
extremely well. That man made a big mistake, letting you read his dogs collar.

Katie gave an almost comical look of
dismay. Sasha wasnt his. He was really surprised. Sasha must have jumped in
when he wasnt looking.

There goes one line of inquiry,
thought Ellen gloomily. Did he let her out again?

No. She came with us. We cuddled
each other. She stayed in that room with me. Katie started to wail. Then next
day she was gone.

Ellen knew shed not get much more
out of the child. Perhaps she ran away.

She was scared. They hurt her.

Poor Sasha.

Once she knocked over the tripod
for the camera. Another time she bit one of the men when he touched me.

She was deeply distressed now,
suddenly gulping, and reaching for Donna. Donna shook off Scobie and hugged her
daughter, too late to avoid a jet of vomit, but not caring about that at all,
just as Ellen didnt care.

* * * *

23

The
death of Ted Anderson on Isolation Pass, the earlier death of his wife from
cancer, and the survival of their little daughter resolved themselves into the
kind of small-town tragedy that on a slow news day will go national. The story
was an ABC news item on Monday night and in the Adelaide
Advertiser
on
Tuesday morning. Challiss father took a gloomy interest in it, seated in the
sunroom with a blanket over his knees, the newspaper in tented sections on the
floor, the sofa, and the coffee table. Suicide, was his verdict, gloomily
expressed, as though he wished for the ways and means to speed his own death.

Challis privately agreed, for the
towns gossips claimed that Ted Anderson had been despondent in recent months.
But Challis was feeling contentious, a reaction to the past few days spent
cooped up with his father. The Pass is a dangerous stretch of road, Dad.

The poor man lost his wife to
cancer. He wasnt coping.

That was five years ago.

Still, his father said.

Challis felt a twinge of guilt. He
hadnt been here to see what his mothers death had done to his father. Like
Ted Anderson, the old man wished for death, his body obliging him slowly, but
Ted Andersons method had been quicker and more absolute.

That afternoon, Challis wandered
down to the police station, a small brick building behind the shire council
offices. The walls and floor were a pale, institutional green, the reception
desk high and laminated, the noticeboards rustling with wanted posters, a faded
gun amnesty notice, and pamphlets regarding home security and driving offences.
A civilian clerk said, Help you?

She was young. He didnt know her. Is
Sergeant Wurfel in?

Her jaws snapped. Yeah.

Challis said patiently, Then may I
see him?

Her face cleared. Okay.

She disappeared through a door and
returned with Wurfel, who gave him a flat cops look and jerked his head. Come
through.

Wurfel took Challis along a short
corridor to his office. Take a seat. I asked around about you.

Challis shifted a little in his
chair. Im here as a civilian.

Fair enough.

Carl Wurfel was a familiar type to
Challis: large-framed, a heavy drinker but not a drunk, tough and pragmatic but
not necessarily a bully, probably divorced. He scared people and got the job
done. He wouldnt respond to cop talk from Challis.

If you know about me then you know
that my brother-in-law disappeared out east a few years ago.

Wurfel nodded.

Im looking into it, Challis went
on.

It was looked into at the time.

You checked the file?

Soon as I knew who you were.

May I see it?

Why?

Challis eyed him carefully. I need
to see if there is anything in it thats not in the Misper file at police
headquarters.

They gave you access?

Challis nodded. Last Friday.

Wait outside, Wurfel said. Let me
make a call.

Challis waited in the corridor;
Wurfel beckoned him back a minute later. He was frowning. Ill let you see our
file. But I thought your brother-in-law committed suicide?

Most of the locals think so. He was
a bit unstable.

Your mate in missing persons told
me your sisters been receiving strange mail, as if hes still alive.

Yes, said Challis levelly.

Wurfel was about to say something
more, then shrugged and went to his filing cabinet. Heres the file. You can
read it here. No copying.

Okay. Thanks.

Wurfel remained in the office,
ignoring Challis. He raced through his in-tray in a kind of habitual fury and
made several abrupt phone calls while Challis tried to concentrate. The file
was brief and told him nothing he didnt already know. There was no mention of
the letters that Meg had received, only a brief, handwritten update made
several months after Gavins car had been found abandoned at the side of the
road: Suicide scenario not favoured by Mrs Hurst. Says her husband ran away.
But there were two unrelated reports in the file. One a domestic disturbance
callout to the residence of Gavin and Meg Hurst, another an interview with Meg
following a report that shed been assaulted by Gavin: Mrs Hurst declines to
press charges.

Challis pushed the file across the
desk to Wurfel. Thanks, sergeant. I appreciate it.

Wurfel grunted. We gave the kid a
verbal warning.

Challis blinked, then understood. Mark
Finucane?

Hes not a bad kid, considering the
family he belongs to.

I know all about the Finucanes,
Challis said.

He returned to the main street and
wandered, his mind drifting, but after a while the town began to impinge on
him. People kept stopping to say hello, ask after his father and reminisce
about the old days, when hed been just another town kid and later, for a short
time, one of the towns three policemen. They didnt dwell on this latter aspect
of his past, and Challis was thankful for that, but, as he walked, he wondered
what hed gained and lost by moving away. Professional advancement, sure,
broader horizons, but at a cost. Did he have a family now, or a community? He
was remote from the former, and despite his years on the Peninsula, and in the
police force, he inhabited the margins, not the centre. How much that owed to
his not fitting in, and how much to not wanting to, he really couldnt say.

He walked on. Small thingsa voice,
a gait, the hot-wood smell of a verandah post in the bright springtime
sunaroused in him powerful memories of his school days and weekends in Mawsons
Bluff, a time of idle, harmless vandalism, boredom and longing. He even found
himself feeling the same hostility or indifference toward some people, the same
affection for others.

And the same desire. Hed slipped
into the Copper Kettle for coffee, and was standing at the cash register, when
a lithe shape pressed against his back, arms encircled him from behind, and a
voice breathed, Guess who, handsome?

He knew at once. He felt his body
yielding, arching, his head tipping back and inclining toward her mouth, which
reached up and pecked him on the hinge of his jaw. He turned around then. Lisa.

She grinned and released him.

Lovely to see you, he said.

She continued to grin. He was a
little discomposed. A part of him meant what hed said, for she was as lovely
as hed remembered, still slight, nimble, direct, her dark hair cropped short,
her dark eyes bright with affection. Another part of him remembered her
directness and how uncomplicated and selfish her ambitions had been.

Join me? he said.

What are you having?

Coffee and a muffin.

Another customer was already
waiting, but Lisa, smiling apologetically, called to the counter hand, Ill
have the same.
Strong
coffee.