Page 67 of Bay of Plenty

He was out of contact, so it was impossible to know how he’d react. Guilt poked me in the ribs, but I ignored it. I hadto act now. And, of course, I’d be careful this didn’t bleed into our heroin investigation.

“I’ll have to leave it until he gets back,” I said, pretending to be resigned to the delay. I couldn’t involve Kui, Mum, or Bevan in the next step. This guy had everything to lose.

Chapter Forty-Four

I left awell-rehearsed message on Superintendent Thatcher Bell’s voicemail.

“Hello, this is Isla Joyson. I’m from Ohope, and wondered if I could talk to you about a girl’s death from twenty years ago. Her name was Janey Saunders, and I was one of her best friends. I’ve discovered something puzzling about the day before she died, when you were working the front desk.”

He rang back immediately. “Don’t call me here again or leave any more messages.” His voice was cold with controlled fury, freezing a line through my blood. “We can meet at the top of The Mount in two hours. I’ll recognize you from your press photo. I’m sure you can do the same.”

Mum and Dad were still watching golf with Fred. With a forced jaunty wave, I called over my shoulder that I was off to do my Christmas shopping.

“Oh, we’ll have to get something for Declan this year.” Mum smiled at Dad. She gave me a more pensive look. “Are you going to—” The obvious Christmas shopping place was The Mount.

“Okay, see ya, bye,” I called, pretending not to hear.

On the drive over, I checked each car that went by for Declan’s profile, my stomach tight. I parked around the cornerfrom the trailhead that led to the summit of The Mount, an eight-hundred-foot lava dome. Seagulls hovered above and the air honked and grated with tankers in the port. During the hour-long hike, the constant roiling in my gut reminded me of the risk I was taking. Before I reached the top, I pressed “Record” on my phone.

Thatcher Bell was the only person standing at the windblown lookout point, towering and muscled in workout gear, a black cap pulled low over his forehead. Despite his angry call, he might have seemed approachable, say if we’d met at one of his three kids’ outrigger races, which Mum and I had read about in the newspaper clippings.

But this was not a casual interaction. This was a meeting that could change his life.

“Tell me why you’re here.” He crossed his arms.

“I have hard evidence that Janey engaged with the police the day before she died,” I said. “You were on the front desk that day, but you didn’t record anything—date, name, or incident.”

He glared at me. “The daily log sheet was an exact record of everything that happened that day.”

“That was twenty years ago. Would you remember one specific day?”

“Obviously, yes, because of what happened the next day.”

I waved a clutch of paper.

“I have the log for that day. Your handwriting is on the first part of the day. But for the second half, it’s Sarge’s handwriting and initials. Maybe he was the one who failed to record the incident, but both of you will get in trouble.”

He scoffed. “If you have any evidence Janey Saunders came into the station, show me now or we’re done here.”

Interesting.I never said she came into the station.And hedidn’t use the obvious excuse—that he’d gone off sick that afternoon.

“Why did you get such an impressive promotion to The Mount right after she died?”

“Jesus.” He exhaled, like he was relieved. “That’s all you’ve got? The two events are unrelated. I got the promotion through hard work and talent.” His shoulders loosened. He turned and strode off down the mountain.

I had to do it. “I have proof she came into the station,” I yelled after him. “And that Sarge visited her at home because someone was abusing her.”

He swung back to me, his face murderously pale.

I jogged to him and showed him Janey’s diary from my backpack.

I held on to it tight as he read the first two pages. He looked up and scowled.

“You must feel good, hooking me back like this,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “This doesn’t say she came into the station.”

My chest yawned with emptiness. “I don’t feel good about any of this.”

He finished reading, and his head fell into his hands. “This is sickening.” He slowly looked up. “I feel terrible for her.” Something flashed across his face. He shook his head. “But it has nothing to do with me.”

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