Lost Girls (8 page)

He saw that
Internet Explorer was open with a series of web pages open in the
browser. He started reading, it was an awful story about Susan by
an internet troll, totally vile “Cut the babies out of the bitch
and watch the crocodiles jump to feast on them.”

He felt
mortified that someone could write this about his beautiful Susan.
He looked at the web page log. The most recent page about her had
been opened at 11.45 last night. Now he knew for sure she had been
here at that time and reading this poison, completely destroying
the fragile self esteem she had begun to rebuild.

He brought Alan
and Sandy inside to show them. Now all knew this was really
something to be frightened about. It seemed, after reading this,
she must have run off into the night to God knows where. Her
friends and the hospital had confirmed that nothing had been seen
or heard of her.

Alan decided it
was time for a full scale missing person’s search with the police
raising the alarm through the media, seeking any sightings. He
called his boss and was told that in five minutes a squad car would
come and collect them and bring them to the police station. At the
same time a second car would come and secure the site for
subsequent investigation.

Susan’s family
and close friends had also been contacted and asked to come to the
police station to give statements about any contact they had with
her in the last 24 hours. It was inconvenient as her parents and
David were each scheduled to leave on their midday flights for the
UK and Sydney. However all other plans were off until Susan was
found.

Vic’s leg was
hurting and he felt woozy from yesterday’s operation. But he
resisted all entreaties to depart, to go off and have a rest. He
said he had returned to Susan once, against the odds, and was
determined not to let her go again.

A news
conference was called for just after lunch. Thus far a series of
searches of the beaches and local parks had found nothing. At the
news conference Vic, Anne and her parents all spoke of their
concern about her absence, Vic told of discovering that she had
read the awful articles in the paper and on the internet, that her
mental state was very fragile and that he was very fearful for her
safety. He asked that anyone who had seen anything, particularly
between midnight and daylight this morning, to come forward with
this information.

This went out
on all the TV and radio channels. Now all they could do was
hope.

In the late
afternoon the others returned to their hotel rooms after a
fruitless day of searching. Alan and Vic stayed on at police HQ,
Alan coordinating the search while Vic sat and watched on
helplessly. He knew there was nothing further he could do, but he
refused to give up until all the efforts of the day were
finished.

About 8:30 pm a
call came in. It was an early morning delivery driver. He told of
returning to Darwin from Palmerston after delivering stores to the
Coles Supermarket about 5 am, driving a flat-back truck. He said
the Berrimah lights had changed red just as he was coming up to
them. As he slowed down at the lights he thought he had seen a girl
who matched Susan’s description flag down a white Toyota tray-back
going in the opposite direction. While he was stopped at the lights
he had seen this person climb into the passenger side of the
vehicle which had then driven away, heading south on the Stuart
Highway. As best he could say the time was about 5.15 am.

At the time he
had thought it was very early for a backpacker to be looking for a
lift. He also thought the girl looked fat or perhaps pregnant
though his side on view was not very clear once the Toyota had
stopped, he could only see her head. He had rung in now because he
had just seen Susan’s photo on the late news, the first he had
heard about the search.

In five minutes
Alan and Vic were in a squad car, going to meet the witness. He was
a pleasant young bloke, trying hard to be helpful. He had no
description of the car driver, and all he could say about the
vehicle that stopped was that it was a white Toyota tray-back which
looked like it had a few boxes on the back, nothing distinctive.
But he was fairly sure that the girl he had seen was Susan, even
though he had only glimpsed her in the half light from across the
road. He was also fairly sure, at the time he first saw her, that
she was carrying a small overnight bag in one hand, but nothing
bigger like a backpack.

So that was it,
the next day the search was widened across the NT, particularly
focused on the top half. Nothing was found or reported that helped
find her. Within a week lots of vague reports of people who looked
like Susan were coming in from all parts of Australia. But none
came to anything. So the police opinion became that she had run
away to an unknown place. Based on the sighting of her going with
the man in the Toyota, serious fears were held for her safety when
she was not found.

It was all too
general, too many white Toyotas were registered in the NT and
nobody came forward to admit to having given this girl a lift.

A week passed,
then it was two and then it was a month. Still nothing had been
found. The police had now raised a warrant for the arrest of Susan
Emily McDonald for absconding on bail, should she be found. The
judge who had released her on bail reluctantly confirmed the
warrant and asked Alan to press on with his investigation of the
other missing girls.

Now the papers
had taken to calling Susan, “Gone Girl”, based on the book and the
movie. Slowly “Gone Girl” slid away from peoples’ memories as other
stories came and went. Only her closest friends continued the
search, refusing to give up.

Vic was plagued
by guilt and Anne was plagued by guilt, Vic for allowing the
operation to happen despite his fears, Anne for leaving her friend
unattended on this critical day. But nothing made any difference;
nothing could bring “Gone Girl” back.

It was now
almost six weeks since Susan had vanished. The time had drifted out
of March, through April and into May. The weather was getting cold
at night. Charlie had decided to go and camp on a waterhole on the
Mary for a night, with a plan to fish once there was some warmth in
the sun in the morning. Now it was “Yegge”, the season after the
knock-down late wet season storms had gone and when the coolness
came, with a dry south-easterly wind during the day. However when
the wind dropped there was still wetness in the air as the land
gave up its moisture.

Since he had
found the man’s head he had avoided his favourite billabong on the
Mary, the big croc had spooked him. But he missed his fishing, this
Mary country was like a link to his father who was gone now. Now
Rosie wanted a big catfish for another curry, and this river was
still his best place. So he had decided to go to a different place
on the same billabong, maybe a mile further along. It connected to
where he had gone last time but he felt it held a different
crocodile spirit and would be safe. It was another place his father
had shown him and this time it was outside the locked gate place so
more people came here. But it should be quiet on a Thursday
morning, the weekend warriors would not be here until before
tomorrow afternoon so he should have the place to himself.

It was more
than hour after dark when he arrived and already the night was
chill. He parked at the opposite side of the cleared area from the
water and took out a big torch to have a look around.

As he walked
across the open camping area towards the water he saw a plastic bag
lying on the ground. It annoyed him when people came to this place
and did not take their rubbish with them. There was obviously
something in it or it would have blown away.

Oh well, he
supposed he should do the right thing and pick it up before it
ended up in some dugong or turtle’s guts. He had seen on TV how
they mixed up plastic bags and jelly fish and then their guts got
all blocked up and they died. It was bad not to care for the land
and sea by leaving rubbish.

He lifted it
up. It was surprisingly heavy. He looked inside. It had a pair of
shoes, woman sandals, and there was something else at the bottom,
sort of dark and stripy. He put in his hand and the thing jolted
him, like an electric shock. He pulled back his hand like he had
been bitten.

God, I hope
it’s not a snake sheltering there which fanged me.

His heart
skipped a beat, he felt panicked, stupid fucker that he was for
putting his hand into something like that without looking better.
It was one of the first lessons of being a blackfella –always look
proper good before you poke around in holes in the ground or other
places you can’t see properly.

He looked at
his hand, no sign of punctures,
Calm down old fella
, he said
to himself,
your imagination is getting the better of
you.

He set the bag
back on the ground and picked up a forky stick. One by one he
lifted the sandals out of the way with this, setting them on the
ground alongside the bag. He looked into the bag again with the
torch.

As he did he
said, “Oh Fuck”. He had seen this object before, Alan had showed it
to him when he had first found it. It was that bloody crocodile
totem, the Baru one from those Yolgnu tribes, the one that had
belonged to the man of the head. He had felt freaked by it when he
was last shown it, knowing it had crocodile spirit magic inside it.
It was not his totem and, as an initiated man of another tribe, it
was dangerous for him to touch it. No wonder it had bitten him. It
was its way of saying “hands off”.

He looked again
at the sandals. They looked sort of familiar. The sort of thing a
young balanda woman would wear; someone like Sandy or her red
haired friend, Anne.

The thought
struck him. These had not arrived here by accident. Someone had
brought them and left them here. It screamed out to him of the
missing girl, Susan. The one Alan was searching for, the one some
people said had run away, and others said had returned to Crocodile
Man. He had not paid all the rubbish in the papers much mind, but
he knew it was tearing up Alan and Sandy the way she had vanished.
They were blaming themselves, as were the other friends.

There was that
sighting of her getting into the white Toyota. Maybe she had come
out here with a fisherman who had offered her a lift. Maybe, maybe;
too many maybes.

Well he did not
know much about police stuff, but last time he had taken something
away and, while he did not really get into trouble, he knew it
could have been a problem if Alan was not his friend.

So today he
would do the right thing. He would leave this stuff right where he
had found it. He would drive back to Darwin. He knew where Alan
lived and he had his private telephone number. He would call him
from the Bark Hut; it would only be about ten pm when he got there.
If he could not get onto him he would drive right up to his house
and bang on the door until he woke him up.

On second
thoughts, he would skip the Bark Hut, he might as well go home and
sleep in his own warm bed, nothing would happen until the morning.
But he would at least let Alan know tonight. Then in the morning he
could come back and show them what he had found. He was sure it was
important though he had no idea what it meant.

Alan was sound
asleep when he felt Sandy shaking him. He did not know what time it
was but it seemed like the middle of the night.

Sandy said,
“Someone has been ringing our bell and banging on the door in the
street. I don’t know who or what it is but they are very
determined. So you had better come down with me to see who it
is.”

Alan pulled on
a pair of shorts and T shirt and Sandy wrapped a dressing gown
around her body. They were both half asleep as they stumbled down
the stairs to the building lobby. Through the glass panel they
could see a dark skinned man standing outside in the light and
trying to peer in. Suddenly Alan realised who it was; “It is
Charlie!” he said and went to open the door.

“Charlie, what
is it?”

Charlie
surveyed them both with searching eyes, noting their sleep
befuddled look. “More better I come inside and tell you. I have
found another thing at the Crocodile Man Billabong.”

They ushered
him up the stairs and Sandy put the kettle on, while Alan sat
Charlie down at the table.

“How about you
start at the beginning,” Alan said. “But first let’s all have a cup
of tea to wake us up.”

Charlie nodded,
“More better that way.”

Soon they were
each holding a steaming mug of tea and eating a Tim Tam
biscuit.

Charlie began
his story. “That waterhole, that one where I found that head. Well
I not go back because of bad crocodile spirit, not since before
when I found it. “But now Rosie wants another catfish, big like
last time. I know another place, maybe one mile, maybe two mile,
further along same billabong. My father showed me this place, long
time ago, when I was boy, same as other place, big catfish live
there too. I think,
Different crocodile home, no bad crocodile
spirit there.

“So tonight,
after Rosie and I have early dinner, she go play cards with
friends. Me, I drive out there to camp, Want to try and catch
another big catfish in the morning. When I get there I take big
torch and walk around to look, make sure no bad spirit hiding.

“In middle of
car park place, back from water, I see plastic shopping bag on
ground. I think,
Is rubbish which lazy person left
. Plastic
rubbish bad, it poison turtle and dugong.