“You tracked down and interrogated two children? And you haven’t been arrested yet?” Tim shook his head. “It’s so lucky you and Lea are women.”
I’d dropped Lea at home to keep searching for jobs online before driving back to Baxter & Co. to visit Tim in his office. James was there with him, trying to politely hassle him for an update by my guess. When I detailed my brilliant sleuthing work from that morning, however, McKenzie did not seem all that appreciative.
He frowned at me as he paced around the office, arms crossed. “I can’t believe you would do something like that.”
“I’m tenacious.” While he was busy walking off his frustration with me, I stole his chair. Mmm. Already warm.
“You’re lucky you haven’t ended up on a register.” He shook his head. “They’re kids! What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I wanted to clear you of murder, but I’m starting to change my mind.”
He exhaled, uncrossing his arms. “It’s not that I’m not grateful that you’re trying. It’s just that I don’t want you to die in the process.”
“Please. I could have taken those kids in a fight.”
“Charlie, I’m serious. What if one of the parents had been like your mum and you’d shown up asking for her child? They never would have found your body.”
I hated to admit it, but he did kind of have a point. I could tell by the look on his face that he was genuinely concerned about my recklessness. He was that kind of person. You know, a nice guy. Not a nice guy as in ‘I’m a nice guy’ Nice Guys who follow you around at bars wearing fedoras and screaming about the friend zone. He just, you know, cared about people.
Oh, shit. It did sound like I had a thing for him. It’d be just my luck if he turned out to be a serial killer.
“I can look after myself,” I said.
“No you can’t,” James responded.
Screw having a thing for him.
“Don’t act like you never make mistakes. Besides, the only reason I was there is because of you. If you hadn’t –”
“I know,” he said, cutting me off. “That’s why I’m telling you to be careful. If anything happened to you I’d feel responsible.”
That threw me. “Oh.”
“By the way, that outfit is next level.” I looked down at my rubber shoe/tracksuit/flanno combination. I would have said something snide back, but he cut me off. “I have to go. Let me know if you track her down, Tim.”
James left and my eyes widened as what he’d said clicked.
“Sarah’s missing?” I guessed. Tim just nodded. “Tim?”
“Yeah?”
I geared myself up. “I’ve found out some stuff, and it’s probably nothing, but –”
“Tell me.”
I did. I told him about the meeting in the organiser and the car that the kids had seen near the body and how my brother went missing and Will overdosed and how the one thing that made sense of it all was if James…
“Shit,” said Tim. His computer pinged as an email came in. His face fell as he read it. “Shiiiitttt…”
“What is it?” I asked. He was staring at his screen in disbelief, much the same as I’d done earlier when staring at the organiser.
“Honey…” My stomach sank. This wasn’t good, I just knew it. “The results on those emails are back. You know how we were trying to figure out where they were sent from?”
“Yes?” Oh no. Please, no.
“A lot of them – going back a few years – appear to have been sent from Frank McKenzie’s house.”
Shit.
“That could just be a coincidence though, right? Like maybe Larry, you know, sorted it out or something.”
“Charlie…”
He didn’t need to say it. I knew. This wasn’t a coincidence. This wasn’t a set-up.
“Why would he hire us if he did it? Why does Larry hate him so much if they’re working together? It doesn’t –”
“It’s a cover, honey.”
“But –”
“Maybe he wasn’t expecting us to be so thorough. Larry must be in on it too. They’re covering their tracks. And Karen’s exactly the kind of woman you’d expect to help out a serial killer.”
At least that last part was accurate.
“Tim –” I tried again.
Tim’s phone rang, cutting me off. He grew even more concerned listening to whoever was on the other end. “Be right there,” he said, hanging up. “Sarah’s been found.”
“Is she –”
“She’s still alive. I guess James is panicked because he botched it. The bullet hit her shoulder – she must have moved as he was firing. She managed to get under cover but she passed out and it was a while before someone found her.”
“When did this happen?”
“About ten minutes before James showed up here in a panic.”
Shit. No alibi. “How is she?”
“She’s lost a lot of blood, and apparently she’s in a coma.” My stomach churned. That could have been me last night. “I’m going to head down to the hospital now. Do you want to ride along?”
“No thanks.” If she was in a coma, she was no good to me. I had a better idea.
“Charlie,” said Tim, “you need to stay away from James.”
“Sure.”
“Promise me you’re not going to leave here and go after him. If he realises –”
“I promise.”
We left in separate cars. Keeping my word to Tim, I wasn’t chasing down James. Of course, I hadn’t promised that I’d stop working on the case.
Finally, I’d had an actually good idea.
I went straight to the garage when I got home, rifling through box after box of weird shit my parents had kept over the years. A framed copy of my certificate for most improved in the beginner swimming class, for one. Paintings that looked like they’d been done by a serial killer but according to the name the teacher had written in the bottom right corner were mine. I assumed they were from primary school, but given my skill level there was a chance they were from my high school years.
After what felt like hours, I struck gold. Old school magazines.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. ‘That doesn’t sound like gold. That sounds like hoarding. Throw them away immediately before you can no longer fit in your house and you have to get a therapist in to help you.’ And I’m not disagreeing. In this case, though, they were exactly what I needed. I didn’t bother dragging the boxes back inside. I sat there on the dusty, sumpy floor rifling through old magazines, looking for pictures.
Pictures of James.
And here they were.
That game his football team had won in Sydney when he was in Year 11. There he was, smiling at the camera, standing next to Joe Winton and a bunch of other guys I didn’t remember. There was Lea, too, cheering the team on. (Not many schools in the country had a cheer squad, but ours went along to all the games. They were terrible at it, but very enthusiastic. Lea’s trademark style.) I checked the date against the list of dates when Nora’s victims had been killed. One matched.
I checked a Brisbane game. Match. Another Sydney game. Another match.
I was sick to my stomach.
I’d found it. Evidence of what James had done, starting around the time my brother disappeared. Which begged a question I almost didn’t want answered…
Had Topher really run away?
Or had he been one of James’s victims?