What Lies Within
Pam Hardgrave
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Pam Hardgrave.
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This is a work of fiction.
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or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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What lies behind us and what lies
before us are tiny matters compared to
what lies within us
Ralph Waldo Emerson
What Lies Within
Chapter 1
Kristy’s foot trips on a vine. She falls into a hollow, arms spread out. Her whole body shudders with shock and revulsion as her hands touch the slime oozing from putrid flesh. She sees the horror; the dirty shoe; the mass of maggots feasting on the remains. The stink seeps into her brain. She screams, springs up and throws herself into Ryan’s arms.
‘Shit,’ he gasps as he stares over her shoulder at the gruesome sight.
They both thought they could be together in their own private space.
‘Let's go through the Nature Reserve.’ Ryan had said.
Kristy had frowned in indecision at the suggestion.
The reserve was a short cut from their school to her home but she never used it.
She'd always been attracted to this bushland, which seemed to hold mysteries of untamed nature. The very name of ‘reserve’ fired her imagination like something set aside from normality. And her mum and dad had made it out of bounds, which increased its attraction. Her dad said it was a danger zone with its mass of trees, bush and undergrowth; a hidden refuge for undesirables, whoever they might be. But Kristy had looked around, saw the sun shining and reckoned any ferals would be somewhere else on such a bright day.
She'd tossed the idea around for at least a minute. She didn't see what could happen to her with Ryan Buckley beside her. Although he was a year ahead of her at school, they'd become friends through playing tennis. They were a dream team in doubles and became school heroes after winning the zone A grade. They helped each other with homework and had been out a few times to parties and movies. He was a good kisser, Kristy thought, looking at his inviting lips. Ryan, a tall, athletic 17-year-old guy was definitely not some undesirable. In fact, as she’d looked up into his smiling face, she thought he was just the opposite.
‘Come on,’ he’d urged.
She’d smiled back. ‘Okay,’ she said.
When they walked into the bush, Kristy was rapt. She looked up at the giant trees that rose out of a sea of tangled undergrowth. They seemed to embrace the sky. Her mouth gaped in awe at the sheer majesty of nature. She inhaled deeply; feeling cleansed by the scent of earth and smell of newness that only comes after recent rain. She stopped and gazed around. They stood holding hands like babes in the wood, Kristy thought. The only sound, like a whisper, rose from the rustle of leaves stirred by a slight breeze filtering through the trees. They wandered on following the narrow track. Kristy instinctively ducked her head as the track wended into a canopy of foliage. She couldn’t see the sky now, only glimpses of sunlight that flickered through. She halted again, folding her arms onto her chest; her gaze jerking from one shadow to the next; her imagination forming distorted pictures from the changing light. She scratched her head as though looking for the answer to how the grandeur of nature suddenly changed into wildness. Her dad could be right, she thought, gnawing her knuckle. Relax, she told herself; start breathing again, Ryan is beside me. She shivered and looked up at him.
Close by, a frog croaked, breaking her dreams.
‘Where are you? Come back to earth.’ Ryan squeezed her hand. ‘Come on,’ he laughed as he moved on, pulling her along. When they broke into a small clearing, he urged her off the track, ‘Let's check it out.’
Again she hesitated for a moment but the warmth of his hand in hers overcame her uneasiness. Nothing to worry about with Ryan here; I’ve just let my imagination go psycho from the eeriness, Kristy told herself. She concentrated on the feel of Ryan’s grip and told herself to be free and enjoy this adventure. They dropped their bags beside the track and plodded through the undergrowth. The grass was coarse and thick, tangled with wild bushes and vines.
‘This is like an obstacle course.’ Kristy objected.
‘You're right. Take five.’ Ryan said, leaning against the trunk of one of the giants. He grabbed her hands and pulled her to him.
The kiss started with the usual warm feeling.
Kristy felt his hot body as his arms tightened around her. His heat ignited her fire. She pressed her lips against his, feeling a warm glow of closeness. His tongue entered her mouth. As he squeezed against her, she felt his hard maleness and urgency. Her body stiffened in protest. ‘I can’t,’ she murmured, pulling away.
‘What's the matter?’ He spat the words out, standing with arms folded, glaring at her.
She felt the drip, drip from the trees overhead.
‘The trees are crying,’ she said, feeling stupid as soon as the words were out.
‘Don't be a moron. Trees don't cry. It's only from the rain this afternoon.’
Kristy felt dizzy. The twisted roots of the giant tree seemed to be writhing in agony around her feet. She took a deep breath and looked around, trying to return to reality.
‘Let's go home,’ she whispered.
‘What are you whispering for? There's no one here.’
Kristy stared at him. He was acting psycho. Was he still pissed off at her pushing him away? ‘Sorry. It's a feeling. Someone's been here. Let's go.’
‘Okay,’ he relaxed a bit and sighed. ‘But don't space out on me. I only wanted a kiss. I thought we were good mates.’
‘We are. It's just the wildness of this place. It scares me shitless.’
He took her hand and they started back through the matted mess of leaves and vines.
At least he's holding my hand, she thought. She hoped they could still be friends. They could be more than friends but not this way, not in the open here among the damp grass, the trees and shadows like figures watching. There would be a better time and place. He was real cool; the other girls at school envied her and thought they were already doing it. She gazed ahead not seeing anything as she walked along while pictures of her and Ryan formed in her mind. Her foot caught on a vine. That was when she tripped and fell, reaching out to the unspeakable.
She screams again, quieter, shaking in shock. Ryan holds her and turns her away from the sight. They run, hand in hand, jumping roots and logs, faltering briefly in their flight to grab their bags. They stop, breathless, at the edge of the reserve. Ryan wipes tears from her face with a tissue. He puts his hands on her shoulders. Blonde hair falls into his eyes as he leans close and whispers, ‘We didn't see anything, did we Kristy?’
Her frown deepens. Her eyes screw up. Her hands clasp and unclasp. She hears a loud thump, thump and realises it is her heart pounding. The feel, the smell, the brief picture of that gross thing is stamped on her brain. She tries to throw it out of her consciousness.
‘No. It was just a nightmare. We didn't see anything. We weren't there.’
They walk in silence, engrossed in their thoughts.
Kristy speaks first. ‘It's no good, Ryan. We can't keep it quiet. There's no choice. It is there. It is a body. Someone dead, probably for a while. We have to report it.’
‘Yeah, you're right, but we don't have to tell the oldies. We don’t want to be involved. We just happened to stumble on it. So just tell the cops.’
‘Okay, but I have to scrub my hands first. I can’t bear the stink and the yuk. Give me half an hour and I'll meet you at the cop shop.’
‘Right. See you there,’ he leaves her at her gate and wanders off, head down.
‘Hello, Ryan,’ Debbie Porter looks up from her garden as he passes by. Her children yell as they kick a ball around the yard. Ryan sees and hears nothing. His eyes are fixed on his trainers as he strides down the road.
The woman gazes after his gangly form, wondering what fills his mind, what has stolen his usual cheery smile...probably had a row with Kristy Hunter, young love...she shrugs and attacks the weeds.
Why did this have to happen? Ryan thinks...just when I was about to score with Kristy. We were only fooling ourselves trying to stuff this shit at the back of our minds. She's right. It has to come out. Now it'll all start over again, just when everything was getting back to normal after that runaway girl episode. The suspicions, the questions, the fear...it'll crawl into everyone's minds, like those maggots...eating the carcass of the town. It'll bugger school and with finals due too. I'll just have to wear it somehow. I have to make it to uni...hang free from Coolibah and the olds.
Kristy slides the screen door closed and dumps her bag on the floor.
‘Hello, Kristy, had a good day?’ her mother asks, just as she was about to run into the bathroom.
‘Oh, hi, Mum. Gotta go to the loo.’ She rushes off to the bathroom to avoid facing her mother.
She runs the hot water over her hands and soaks them with soft soap. Was that her face that frowned back at her from the mirror? Gross! Her face is blotchy with the rush of blood so she breathes deeply trying to ease her tension. A dark smudge of dried mud decorates her cheek; another runs from her forehead into her hair. Strands of fair hair flecked with dirt hang loosely over her face.
Shit, she thinks, I look like I've been rolling round in it. Mum will think the worst.
She scrubs her hands with the nailbrush until they are pink, washes the grime from her face and smooths her hair back as best she can. She pours hand-cream onto her hands and rubs it in, sniffing them, gingerly.
Yuck. Her mind rebels. It's still there. Would she ever be rid of it? What she longed for was a shower to wash away the filth, but mum would think that weird at this time of day. She stands still for a moment until she wills herself to calmness.
Kristy slips into the refuge of the toilet and sits there thinking.
Why had she gone into the bush with Ryan? If she hadn't, everything would still be the same. But it had happened. Nothing could change that. She remembered what her dad said when she'd done something wrong...it's no good regretting your actions once it's done, you have to look for a solution... make it right again.
‘You're not sick, are you, Kristy?’ Her mother's call sounds concerned.
Kristy does feel sick, but only from the shock of the sight and touch of that thing. ‘No, Mum, coming.’
She knows the solution. They would pass it on to the cops. It was their problem. It had to be one of those undesirables dad warned about. Now all she needed was an excuse to go out again.
Smile, she orders herself. It felt forced but would have to do. Just as she takes the first determined step towards the kitchen, a yell stops her.
‘What's to eat, Mum?’
‘Damn,’ she says under her breath, ‘Jack's home. Well, at least I don't have to look happy.’
Her young brother was already stuffing a muffin into his mouth.
‘Don't be such a guts,’ she greets him, trying to be normal.
‘How was your day, Kristy?’ her mum asks with questioning eyes.
She often wondered if mums are naturally psychic. Hers seemed to read her mind.
‘Okay. I'll just have a drink and grab my racquet...have to meet Ryan for a bit of practice. See you later.’
She gulps down a glass of juice, picks up her bag and retreats to her room.
Her mother nods to her daughter's back, wondering why she is stirred up. At least it wasn't the boy friend...must've been something at school, she thinks. It didn't seem that long ago when she herself was a teenager. Everything was so dramatic, the end of the world, but we came through it, learning all the way. Now I'm in the Middle Ages, forty, fair, but not fat. She laughs to herself and smiles at Jack who always has hunger pains rather than growing-up pains. He'll be the next worry; she sighs as she chops meat for the casserole. The family is better off now, growing up in a smaller town.
‘You like living here, don't you, Jack?’
‘Aw, it's okay, I suppose. At least I made the footy team, not as much competition here as in the big school.’
‘That's good. It's a nice town…Damn!’ Her finger spurts blood onto the meat. ‘I knew that knife was too sharp.’
She sucks her finger, tasting the blood, bitter. A nice town, she thinks. I don't even know what nice means. It seems bloody dull to me.
Jack glances at his mum. ‘You'll turn into a vampire if you suck blood, Mum.’
‘Watch out then,’ she bares her teeth and chases him around the room.
At least someone's alive around here. I wonder if they'll be as happy tomorrow when they hear about the body, Kristy thinks, watching their antics as she walks out the door.
Chapter 2
The streets are coming alive slowly. Early workers rouse themselves to start another day. A ginger tom sneaks home after a night out. Dogs bark as a motorbike revs on its journey to work. A morning breeze rustles through the trees lining the street, spraying yellow leaves onto the footpath, disturbing the chattering birds. Brent Townsend cycles round the corner, his shirt flying like a sail behind him. His arm arches like a bowler’s, pelting papers onto the lawns. He guides his bike weaving from house to house, owning the roads. He sings as he pushes his bike along the streets, knowing no one hears. The township is his at this early hour, he thinks. Freedom of the city. And for the joy of the ride, stretching his muscles, throwing the news at people, he makes money. It's growing into a small pile in a secret tin in his bedroom. It's his passport to a better life, a way out of this hick town where he is only the paper boy. His thoughts travel with his bike. There's that dickhead, Ryan's, place. One day I'll break their window when the paper's thick enough. That'd be cool and it'd be an accident. Brent grins at the thought, riding on. I'd better not stop to talk to Mrs Porter today. I'm a bit late. She didn't know any new goss the other day, anyway. The green machine flies round the bend into the next street. The yap yap of Dawson's dog shatters his domain. He decides the little fluff bag is a perfect target standing still, barking. The paperboy can't resist the urge. He takes aim, blasts off...direct hit. He speeds up, laughing.
The bike cruises along Palm Avenue, soaring round the bends. It's like in the Indi car race, he thinks - papers flying in the air. He catches a movement and frowns as his mind registers the figure a few houses away. There's that Kristy Hunter waiting for her paper. Why would they want a paper when her father owns the bloody paper? She thinks she owns the bloody town because her dad's a hot fart reporter and she's knocking round with Ryan bigshot Buckley. Well, he can have her. One day I'll show the lot of them. When I'm rich, I’ll buy the bloody newspaper and maybe the real estate office too. That’ll show them.
He tosses their paper high so the girl can catch it but otherwise ignores her. His glance back sees her hurrying inside. She seems to be in a hurry to open the paper. One more street to finish the run, and he too can read the paper over breakfast.
Brent props up his bike in the driveway beside his mother's tired Corolla, opens the door and places his helmet on the kitchen table. He peeps into his mother's room. She's still asleep, so he puts the jug on, tosses some bacon into a pan followed by a couple of eggs and dumps some bread into the toaster. His stomach groans in anticipation. He takes a big sniff, savouring the smell. The toast flicks up ready as he turns the eggs. The jug whistles.
‘Is that you, Brent?’ his mother calls.
‘Well, it's not Kurt Cobain coming back from the dead.’
‘Don't be such a prick, Brent. I'm not in the mood. You know what I'm like after working half the bloody night. Make me a cuppa like a good boy and bring me the paper.’
As he makes the coffee, he opens the paper.
The black headline stares at him:
BODY FOUND IN NATURE RESERVE
He reads on; his frown deepens.
Two teenagers stumbled on a decomposed body while walking in Coolibah Reserve yesterday. Sergeant Bowen, Coolibah Police, said the body is that of a female. It appeared to have been buried in a shallow grave for some weeks.
Asked if the body could be that of missing schoolgirl, Tanya Morgan, Sergeant Bowen said identification could not be determined until forensic tests are carried out.
Tanya Morgan, daughter of Zoë and stepdaughter of Tony Morelli, Coolibah real estate agent, is a sixteen-year-old student from Coolibah High School who was reported missing two weeks ago. After extensive inquiries and searches of the district, police said it was possible that she had left home to travel to Sydney.
Her whereabouts have not yet been determined.
‘Fuck.’ Brent drops the paper like a hot coal.
Chapter 3
Vines encircled her. As she lay in a bed of undergrowth, her father called her name. Something heavy crushed her chest. Kristy woke gasping for breath, sighing, as she pushed her cat, Homer, off the bed. It had been the longest night she could remember in all her sixteen years.
She’d heard her father come in late, knowing he would have the news of the body in the reserve. How much did the cops tell him? She lay awake, waiting for him. It’s so late, she thought, maybe he’ll wait until morning to blast off. She wasn’t really scared of him. He made rules. If they were broken, her dad played the Father figure, which made her feel like a little child. She had to know what he'd printed in the paper. Kristy finally had drifted into a troubled sleep.
Birds chattered outside her window in the first light of day. She crawled out of bed. Homer purred around her feet. She had to read dad’s report in the paper before she faced him at breakfast. By the time she’d dressed, it was 6.30. Brent would be on his rounds. Quietly, she crept past the kitchen and opened the door. The morning sun warmed her. I’m alive, she thought. That stinking corpse in the bush was once alive too. Her body shuddered at the memory of the maggots and the smell. She jumped for the paper as Brent threw it high. Her hands fumbled to unroll it.
The headline hit her: BODY FOUND IN RESERVE.
Her eyes read the words two teenagers. At least it didn’t mention their names. The cops must’ve given her father the bare facts to print. Maybe he wouldn’t have to find out she and Ryan cut through the reserve, she thought hopefully. She read on; her stomach convulsed; she felt like spewing. Tanya…Oh my God, it had to be her. She hadn’t questioned who it was...just thought some old derelict had died there. Poor Tanya. Kristy realised how self-centred she’d been…only worried about being found out. Slowly she walked into the kitchen and put the paper on the table. Greg Hunter emerged from the bathroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
‘Morning,’ he said, sitting down at the head of the table.
Kristy managed a ‘Hi’, and joined her mum at the table. Her mother glanced at the paper, and then read the main story with a deepening frown.
‘This is horrible. Greg, you didn't tell me this last night. Yesterday, I was thinking how nothing ever changes in this place. How could this happen in our peaceful little town? I’m glad we’re not involved.’
Greg saw his wife's frown and was pleased he hadn't disturbed her last night. ‘We are, Leigh. As the local paper, it’s my job to find out all I can...and I didn't tell you last night because you were sleeping so peacefully when I came in.’ He glanced at his daughter for her reaction.
Kristy’s eyes fixed on her plate. She’d kept quiet this long. How could she tell them now?
The phone rang. ‘I’ll get it,’ her father said, pushing his chair back.
Kristy couldn’t hear the conversation, but she was sure something was going to happen. Her guts churned. She waited for the wave that would engulf her…for his roar. She heard him hang up the phone and glimpsed his frown as he came back into the kitchen. Her eyes dropped quickly to her plate again. The roar didn’t come. Leigh looked at her husband with raised brows, sensing his tension. She knew when something challenged his usual calm manner. The quiet is worse than the storm, she thought, deciding to break it.
‘Who was it?’
‘Detective Sergeant Chadwick from Murrawang CIB,’ he said, staring at his daughter. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’
Kristy’s head started to ache as she felt his gaze like a drill boring into her mind. All the trauma, the guilt and the horror of yesterday whirled in her head. The tension released a flood of tears.
‘Will someone please tell me what’s going on?’ Leigh asked.
‘It seems our daughter and Ryan Buckley discovered the body in the reserve yesterday.’
‘Oh, you poor girl,’ Leigh said, jumping up and putting her arms around her sobbing daughter. ‘What an awful experience.’
It took a while for the deluge to subside. She looked up at her mum, her ally, wiped her eyes, blew her nose and sneaked a glance at the grim face of her dad opposite.
‘What were you doing in the reserve?’ The father demanded.
Jack forgot his food. He gaped with mouth open at his sister. A body...cool...like something out of a thriller.
‘We, like, took the short cut from school,’ Kristy stammered, sniffing back more tears.
‘Greg, she knows she shouldn’t have been there. She’s upset enough from this awful discovery, so let’s give her some support.’
Her mum could always reason with her father. Kristy silently thanked her.
‘Okay, you’re right,’ he sighed. ‘But it could’ve been you, Kristy, instead of that poor girl. You’d better tell us what happened.’
She told them how they’d wandered off the track. She’d tripped and fallen into a hollow. Her body shook as the image returned to her mind.
‘There’s not much more,’ she stumbled on. ‘We decided to go to the local cop shop to report it. We led Sergeant Bowen and a constable to the place. They taped off the area, and we came home. Sergeant Bowen reported it to the CIB and that’s all I know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. We didn’t want to be involved.’
‘The sergeant from CIB wants to talk to you. He’ll be here soon. Jack, you get ready for school...and there's no need to blab about this...right?’ Greg said.
Jack hesitated. It wasn't fair. He reckoned he'd miss all the action. He opened his mouth to object...
‘Scat,’ his dad said, waving him off.
Greg looked at his daughter and realised she was now a young woman with long blonde hair, serious eyes questioning him and a confident lift to her chin, just like her mother. He had to admit that she wasn’t his little girl anymore.
‘A girl’s been murdered. We don’t know for sure if it is Tanya but no one else has been reported missing. The police said she was buried and she certainly didn’t bury herself,’ he said quietly. ‘That’s a terrible thing and even though you weren’t supposed to be in the reserve, you should’ve told us what you’d discovered. You know we’re here to help you,’ he put his arms around her, hugging her briefly. ‘Now, go and freshen yourself up.’
Kristy relaxed as she escaped from the room. He hadn’t made her feel small. Now, she thought, maybe we can all help find the bastard who did this.
Leigh gave Greg a peck on the cheek. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Our daughter has grown up. We need to keep in touch with her.’
He nodded. ‘I’m going to ring Michael Buckley. He needs to know that Ryan was there. And what was he doing with Kristy off the track, anyway?’
‘Greg, they’re young adults, you have to trust them. You were young once, remember?’ Leigh smiled, thinking of their own youth, as she cleared the table.
‘Hell, that’s why I’m worried,’ his grin changed to a frown as he went on, ‘and now there’s a murderer in our midst…could even be Ryan.’
Leigh turned to face him. ‘Ryan’s a nice young man from a good family. He couldn’t kill anyone. Anyway, why would he take Kristy into the reserve if he’d done it?’
Greg looked at his partner. Her chin was thrust out, hands on hips. He felt like backing into a corner. Instead he smiled and took her hands in his.
‘Hey, let’s not argue. There are nice young men who lose it under pressure but you’re right about the last bit. He’d hardly take her back to the scene of his crime. I’m not accusing him. All I’m saying is somewhere in our town there’s a mongrel who’s snuffed out a poor girl’s life and could do it again.’ He let her hands drop, glanced at his watch and said, ‘I’d better ring Buckley before the police arrive.’ He strode off into his study.
Leigh stacked the dishwasher, wondering who this killer was, who, in a few moments of passion or rage, could change so many lives. She tasted bile as her stomach reacted to the thought of her own children as victims. Her thoughts fled to poor Zoë Morelli, losing her only child. But anger and rage quickly replaced sympathy. She slammed the door of the dishwasher. Where were the cops? They had to find this murderer.
Chapter 4
The bayside town of Coolibah looked serene. Patches of sunlight glistened on the water like jewels on a blue carpet. Rocky cliffs rose from the depths to a headland standing sentinel over the bay. Detective Constable Knight admired the view with snatched glances as he drove along Beach Road.
‘How could such violence happen in this sleepy town, sergeant?’ He asked his boss.
‘I can never get used to it, Matt. There’s always someone with a secret, a bad temper, or some underlying grudge.’ The sergeant checked his map. ‘Turn right into Grevillea and left into Palm Avenue.’
Matt pulled into the kerb. ‘I wouldn’t mind living here. Guess you could call it a leafy suburb though it’s not snobbish. The houses look cared-for, and the bay just down the road makes it like paradise.’
‘You’re poetic, Matt,’ Sam Chadwick grinned at his young partner. ‘That’s only the surface. We have to look beyond the façade, inside the houses, inside people’s minds to see what lies within. By the way,’ he added, sliding his big bulk out of the car, ‘this guy owns the local newspaper. He’ll be picking our brains, so watch it.’
They walked along the small avenue of palm trees, past the 4WD in the carport, and pushed the buzzer on the front door. Sergeant Chadwick filed the picture of the woman coming towards him in his memory bank: about forty, slim and fit, long blonde hair, blue eyes, firm chin, about 167 cm, dressed in blue jeans, T-shirt, sandals. While his glance took in the details, he nodded and introduced himself. ‘Mrs Hunter? Detective Sergeant Sam Chadwick and this is Detective Constable Matthew Knight, Murrawang CIB.’
Leigh led them into the lounge, wondering what it was about detectives. Even in plain clothes, they stood out as police, with an intense look about them. Their eyes seemed to be analysing her, reading her mind. She wondered what cops were like at home with their wives and children. She relaxed when Greg and Kristy came in, followed by Jack who crept in with his eyes on the floor as though he hoped no one would notice him. After introductions, everyone sat down. Kristy sat next to her mother, the two cops opposite and her dad in the single seat with Jack slouching against the doorway as if he hoped to merge into it. His dad looked at him, ‘Jack, sit down. You're part of the family so you can stay...just be quiet.’
Jack flopped down beside his sister. Kristy tried to look into the sergeant’s eyes but she felt like her mind was being dissected with his gaze. Was this how detectives extracted evidence from witnesses, she wondered? Piercing her brain as though looking to see what lies inside. She wriggled in her seat and smoothed her dress down. She frowned and turned to face her mother who patted her on the knee. Kristy lifted her chin and looked back at the sergeant. He leaned forward and smiled. The transformation was surreal, she thought. She felt her body relax in the warmth of his gaze but, at the same time, she recognised the ploy as the ‘good cop’ of television dramas. Her mind sharpened for the interrogation.
‘Just a few questions to get the facts straight. Thanks for helping us, Kristy. First, you and Ryan Buckley took the short cut from school yesterday, right?’ Sam Chadwick asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Ryan is your boy friend?’
‘Well, he’s my friend and he’s a boy, so I suppose so.’
Matt Knight wrote smart arse in his notebook.
‘Do you often go through the reserve?’
Kristy glanced at her father, ‘No, that’s the first time.’
Sam registered the guilty glance and decided not to ask why. ‘Okay. Do many students use it as a short cut?’
‘Not many. A few kids ride their bikes along the tracks.’
‘Do you know if Tanya Morgan used the track regularly?’
‘I dunno. She lived near the school, so I guess she’d only use it if she was coming to the town side.’
‘Or going home from town?’ The sergeant added.
‘Yeah, I suppose so.’
Greg leaned forward, ‘Does this mean you’ve identified the victim as Tanya Morgan?’
‘There’s been no positive identification yet, but we can’t rule out the possibility so we’re following all avenues,’ Sam Chadwick replied formally.
‘How long does Forensics take for results these days?’ Greg asked.
‘We’ll release the results to the press when we can,’ the big man seemed to relax a little and added, ‘it’s only about four days wait.’ He looked back at Kristy, cutting off any more queries from her father. ‘We won’t keep you much longer. You’ll want to be off to school… Tanya was in your class, wasn’t she?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was she a friend of yours?’
‘Not really. She, like, went round with other kids.’
‘Who would you say were her friends?’
‘A couple of girls: Kathy Morris, Jenna Clark.’
‘What about boys?’
Kristy hesitated, ‘No one in particular,’ she said. Her mother squeezed her hand.
The sergeant’s eyes stared into hers.
She wriggled in her seat, sighed and said, ‘They used to muck around with Aaron Baxter and Brent Townsend sometimes.’