Vanished, James Delargy [i like reading books txt] 📗

The search of the area surrounding the vehicle had uncovered no bodies and no blood trail.

‘Do you think she was already dead? Blood dries quickly out here,’ said Oily.

‘Hauling a body, alive or dead, would be difficult in this heat and pretty damn conspicuous,’ said Emmaline. ‘Especially with Dylan too. It’s not consistent with a desperate escape plan. So my guess is that she was alive when she left the ute. Injured, maybe even severely, but fit enough to support her own weight and comfort what was likely a distressed child. The question is where they went next. Anything from the hospitals?’

She directed this question to the local constable – Cooper – who had been attached to them like an intern shadowing on work experience. She was eager but overawed, dashing back and forth like a rabbit with the latest information.

‘There have been no reports of an injured female matching Naiyana Maguire’s description. Or a male matching Ian Kinch. Or a child—’

‘Keep on them.’

‘Will do, Detective Taylor.’ Her standard response. Overly formal, maybe even needy for praise. Emmaline didn’t have time for that.

She returned to the problem at hand. ‘They must have accessed another mode of transport. And not public transport. Too risky with an injured partner. And given the trace of gold in the cab they must be carrying some too.’

‘That’s a lot for one person to shoulder.’

‘Which indicates that they must like each other.’

‘A true Bonnie and Clyde,’ said Oily.

Emmaline couldn’t decide if their acts were romantic or desperate. It was easy to confuse the two. With great desperation came moments of unbridled emotion that could be mistaken for love. She’d been there before. Another ten years and she might be there again. In that case she would remain single. No point in following convention if you actually detest it.

‘Our best bet is to follow the money,’ she said. ‘In this case, gold. Have Cooper run a report on all gold dealers. We’ll try those first.’

She stopped Oily before he ran after their intern, who in turn was running towards a squad car. ‘Also any place that might accept gold in exchange for goods. Again, both legal and not-so-legal.’

119

Naiyana

Her eyes were still on the rifle. She had come to realize that a gun held a particularly grotesque knack of becoming the focus of a room, the ultimate scene-stealer. She waited for the barrel to rise and provide confirmation that she had made a terrible mistake, confirmation that she would lose everything, including her life out here. In a town she hated.

But the rifle stayed where it was. By his side. Instead he raised a question. ‘Where could he run to?’

She didn’t know. And in that she realized something. It was very unlike Lorcan to run. Especially with Dylan. Without means of transport. He wouldn’t put his son in danger. Unless…

‘Do you think he saw you killing Mike?’ she said, the tide of panic rising again.

This tide transferred to Ian, who now understood that there might be a witness on the loose. ‘He was nervous when he saw us. He could have sprinted back as we loaded the bodies.’

She nodded. ‘I think the whole falling off the bike thing was a lie. He was edgy because he saw you. He knew what you were capable of.’

The realization settled upon them like the dust that seeped through the busted gable wall.

‘Shit! I should have checked on Dylan,’ she said, angry at herself, hitting the wall and catching the edge of her mother’s mirror, causing it to fall and shatter on the floor. But she didn’t care about her broken heirloom or that she had nicked the side of her foot on a shard of glass. The only thing that mattered was her son.

‘If I had seen him, he would have told me what was going on,’ she said, aiming her vitriol at Ian. ‘But you insisted we get rid of the bodies.’

‘It was smart to focus on them. They had to be disposed of.’

‘It would have been smarter to focus on the living. The dead weren’t going anywhere. And we only had to dispose of them because you shot Mike!’ she yelled, spit flying from the corners of her dry mouth. ‘You better not have let anything happen to my child.’

She turned her eyes from him and looked around the kitchen. The broken kitchen in the broken house. She couldn’t stay here any longer, the tension and the hatred was unbearable. She made for the front door with Ian’s words stalking her.

‘They can’t have got far.’

He beat her to the car and climbed behind the wheel. When she tried to stop him, he told her that he needed her eyes. Which she could tell was a lie. But focusing her concentration on finding her missing husband and son seemed a good idea.

‘Would they go down the tunnel?’ asked Ian as he started the ute.

‘No, Dylan was afraid of it,’ she replied. ‘Lorcan would head for town.’

‘We didn’t meet them on the way in.’

‘Minus a vehicle they would take the shortest route, across the bush. Plenty of places to hide as well if needed.’

Following her suggestion he hitched a left at the crossroads and made for a direct path off-road to Hurton.

They reached the sand and scrub quickly. She glanced around from window to window, the not knowing her son’s whereabouts clawing at her insides.

‘Do you think he could make it to Hurton?’ asked Ian. ‘Or contact the police?’

‘That doesn’t matter now,’ she barked at him, briefly hopeful that a speck in the distance was Dylan but angered to find it was another worthless shrub.

‘Of course it does. Even if they didn’t believe him, it would bring heat onto us.’

She didn’t care. They could bring all the heat they wanted. As long as she had Dylan.

‘Let’s run for it,’ said Ian. ‘If he has custody of Dylan, then he isn’t going to mention any of this. To anyone. For his and