CHAPTER 67

Seb had arrived at the station early, just before eight. Stomach clenching, afraid of what he might find, he had started looking for photos taken by Gary, Leanne, Viv, Dev, Joe and himself shortly after Sal’s death on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and any other platform he could think of. He wished he had access to their phones, but this was a start.

He had had Insta and Facebook at the time, but didn’t post much. On his Facebook he found a few group photos from before Sal died, but none after. He remembered her funeral, in Bullford Point. Awful. No one took photos at funerals.

Leanne next. He didn’t expect much. At the time she and Joe were delving into drugs, not exactly living a life that prompted lots of happy snaps. ‘Hi, peeps! Here’s me shooting up!’ Sure enough, no social media accounts for her except Facebook, which had been dormant at the time. He was weirdly still able to access Joe’s Facebook, despite his death, but nothing doing from back then.

Gary had Twitter, Insta and Facebook, and thousands more followers than the rest of them combined. His feed was mainly witty observations and jokes, plus promotions for gigs and whatever else he was doing. No photos from that period.

These days Dev had a vigorous social media presence, filled with pics of her beaming in front of real estate. Back then, she had already started to use Insta and Twitter to market herself to the world. At gatherings, she was always the one insisting on group selfies, and when he scrolled back that far there were plenty. But again, understandably, none in the weeks following Sal’s death.

Viv, surprisingly, had a well-maintained Facebook page containing many recent photos of him on bikes, next to bikes, bikes alone, and bike shoes. His account stretched back to uni days, but there was nothing of the group after Sal’s death.

*

Barb opened the front door of her car. Inside, three corn chip packets stared insolently at her from the passenger seat. She loved corn chips. After a hard day’s work, they were the perfect gobble on a drive home. She put the wrappers, plus three empty apple juice bottles and other papers and plastic into the garbage bag before moving to the back, where things got really ugly. You could hardly see the seat through the empty corn chip packets, juice and soft drink bottles, and plastic packaging from the window latches, door handles, etcetera she installed for clients. She binned them, then kneeled to reach under the seat. More corn chip packets, two Snickers wrappers and thirteen dollars in coins. Did shops even take coins anymore? Would she have to find one of those old-style bubble-gum machines? She pushed her arm further under the seat, her shoulder muscles complaining. Or was it the ligaments? She pulled out more wrappers, then reached under again and felt from side to side. That seemed to be it. She started to extract her arm and it brushed something metallic. She grabbed it and pulled it out.

It was a small, black rectangular prism, a couple of centimetres high and about fifteen wide and broad. On one side was a USB hole. She had never seen a computer backup before, but would bet this was one, especially as it had a piece of masking tape stuck to it with the word ‘ARCHAEOLOGIST’ written on it.

She pulled out her phone and looked at Joe’s last text.

Really enjoy working with you, despite the messy car. You should get an archaeologist in there. Who knows what they’d find? In fact maybe there’s one in there somewhere already!

He’d sent her a coded message, telling her where his backup was. Why? She thought back to the last time Joe had been in the car, the day he died. They were walking down the driveway of the Simpsons’ holiday house in Kincumber to tidy their garden when he’d doubled back. ‘Forgot my bag.’ She hadn’t even thought about how difficult it would be to forget a bag that had been sitting on your lap. He must have had the backup in it and hidden it under her passenger seat. Why hadn’t he just asked her to mind it? Probably because he hadn’t wanted her to ask lots of nosy questions.

But why hide it? He must have thought he was getting close to uncovering the truth, and been worried someone might interfere with his computer. The backup was a precaution, one he hoped he would never need. He knew she never cleaned her car, and kept it unlocked, so he would have been able to retrieve it anytime. Then in his final text, sent later that day, he had given her a clue. Just in case.