Elise seems to be staging a small rebellion. Kiara can hear her clattering around the kitchen, chopping and grating, apparently making dinner. Even though it’s only five o’clock, and they’re supposed to be leaving.
Not that Kiara is ready. She’s in the bedroom, staring at the clothes Elise has left out. The avocado scarf, the walking clothes—things Kiara brought in the hope that this might be a relaxing, romantic weekend. They’re right next to the stack of crime scene photos and witness statements. What was she thinking, coming here?
She sits on the edge of the bed and sinks into the memory foam. She knows what she was thinking: that she could get Elise away from whoever was making those phone calls. Protect her. Relax her. Remind her that they can face any challenge, as long as they’re honest with each other.
Instead of saving their relationship, this trip seems to have doomed it. But if Elise really did steal Kiara’s mother’s ring and sell it to pay off a blackmailer, then the relationship isn’t worth saving. Kiara wonders if that counts as a silver lining.
Things could be worse. She remembers finding the Kellys in the upstairs bedroom, Clementine holding Cole at knifepoint.
The cordless handset rings—a burbling sound she associates with old people. Kiara finds it on the bedside table and recognises the number on the screen.
She answers. ‘Hi, Sarge.’
‘Kiara. Got an update for you.’
Rohan’s voice is comforting. Being alone doesn’t usually bother her—she can sit in a police car on the side of the highway for hours without a problem. But when she’s with Elise, and Elise is angry, the isolation hurts. Nothing is so lonely as a relationship that isn’t working.
‘I’m on holiday,’ Kiara says.
‘Yeah, I told my wife about that. Turns out I was wrong—she thought a minibreak at the murder house was a terrible idea. Shows what I know about women.’ He laughs.
Kiara sits on the bed next to the mountain of clothes. ‘You called to tell me that? Because you’re a little late.’
‘No. I called to tell you Cole Kelly is missing.’
Kiara stiffens. ‘What?’
‘After you found the kid, Cole’s lawyer argued he should be granted bail, since there are now four other suspects for the murders.’
Kiara squeezes her eyes shut. ‘Seb Basking isn’t a suspect.’
‘The magistrate disagreed.’
‘What about the rape?’
‘We haven’t charged him. There’s no prospect of a conviction without the victim’s cooperation, which we don’t appear to have. Clementine has amended her statement.’
‘God damn it!’ Kiara can’t believe this. ‘Why?’
‘She wouldn’t say. You know how it is.’
Victims are often reluctant to pursue charges in sexual assault cases, but Clementine seemed so determined. What changed?
‘I gave Cole the usual spiel about not leaving town,’ Rohan continues. ‘But I had a hunch he wasn’t listening. Sure enough, I just went to his house, and there’s no one home.’
‘Could he have gone after Clementine?’
‘She’s still in hospital. I’ve posted a constable outside her room at the hospital, but Cole hasn’t turned up.’
‘You checked the gym?’
‘Yep. No one there.’
Kiara’s fingers twitch, like she’s typing. They don’t have enough evidence to prove that Cole is the killer, and he knows it. So why would he run?
Maybe because there’s something they haven’t found yet. Something he thinks he can dispose of.
‘Get a trace on his phone,’ she says.
‘Already did, but there’s nothing from any of the towers. It must be switched off.’
A chill grows in Kiara’s chest and spreads all the way to her toes. ‘Or,’ she says, ‘it’s in an area with no reception.’