Page 69 of Bay of Plenty

I drove home along the coast, past bee farms and country schools, bucolic charm compared to the ugliness surrounding Sarge.What was he hiding? What had Janey spoken to him about? And who… who was the creeper?

Sarge had essentially paid to get Thatcher Bell out of Ohope by promoting him. Thatcher Bell was the lowest-ranking guy in the office. He worked the front desk and transferred to a job that doubled his pay, putting him in charge of a team. It propelled him into the position he had now.Did he sleep at night?Hadn’t he ever wondered over the past twenty years, and I bet he knew the anniversary, whether something terrible had been done? That he’d taken the hush money and made a good life for himself?

I veered into the gravel on the edge of a cliff, skidded, then yanked the car back onto the road. Now that I knew this, didn’t that mean I was in danger? I had this all taped, not that he knew it. My stomach rolled over. Would Thatcher Bell call Sarge and tell him what he had told me? Surely not, because Sarge would be furious at him for talking to me. Thatcher Bell had a reason to kill me. Today, he decided he couldn’t.But what would keep him from doing it later?Despite everything, I knew he wanted to think of himself as a decent family man.

I clutched the wheel tighter. God, was that the only thread I was holding on to?

Chapter Forty-Five

Home from TheMount, I saved the recording of Bell to the cloud, my fingers trembling. I stashed my backpack—with Janey’s file, her diary, and the police log sheets—in the locked drawer in my closet. No one had ever used it, but I found the key in Mum’s random-stuff drawer. Since Sarge had noticed my backpack, I couldn’t keep taking it out with me. But someone had already sneaked into my bedroom to cut up my pants, so I couldn’t leave it lying at home either.

I asked Mum to walk on the beach with me and quickly updated her on my clash with Bell. Somehow, saying the words to her was worse. We were both shaking.Fear? Adrenaline?

“Isla, it’s time to call the police.” Mum agreed with me and believed we had to take action.Despite the circumstances, that feels good.Could we trust the police? I needed to tell Declan everything. Hopefully, he’d be relieved that I was safe and had gotten the recording, rather than angry.

“Let’s get back to Dad,” I said.

As we turned to head home, I noticed someone near the house. A friend of Dad’s? But where was their car?

We crossed the road to the house and saw Dad’s visitor.Sarge.I let out a strained cry.

Mum called out to him, but he kept going.What the hell?

“God, Isla,” Mum said.

My heart skipped a beat. Sarge’s distinctive red, gas-guzzling truck was parked four houses down. Why hadn’t he parked outside our house? Had he been watching, waiting for us to leave? My breath caught. The fact that Sarge was visiting was not suspicious. He was Dad’s best friend. But thetimingwas highly suspicious.

What did he want in the house? I sprinted up the gravel path.

I was terrified for Dad’s safety. But he was sitting watching the footy on TV, Fred on his lap. Relieved to see him okay, I feigned nonchalance. “Sarge stopped in?” How could Dad not hear my heart thumping? Beside me, Mum’s breathing went shallow.

“Turned up the moment you two left for the beach,” Dad said.

Please, no.I stopped myself from sprinting to the bedroom, Mum following. With fumbling fingers, I plucked the key from where it was attached to my phone and opened the drawer.

The bag was still there. I tugged it out. Bizarrely light. Swaying, I unzipped the top. I peered inside, thrust in my hand, and punched around all the edges.

Thatcher must have called Sarge and told him everything.

“No, no, no.” Frenzied, I thrust the bag upside down and shook it out again.

“Sarge took it.” Mum fumed. “What should we do now?”

The sliding door opened. Declan entered the room.

“What is it?” he said, hurrying to my side. Wide-eyed, Mum made her excuses and left the room.

“Janey’s diary.” My eyes shot up to him, and the blood drained from my face. “It’s gone.” And copies of the Janey filefrom Bevan. And the log sheets. “This is Sarge. Snow knew this room; he must have told Sarge where the locked drawer was. He knew to look for my backpack. He stole Janey’s diary. He knows something about Janey’s disappearance. We can’t let him get away with this.”

I told him about Sarge’s slip and that I’d gone to see Thatcher Bell.

“What the hell? You could have driven right past me. I can’t believe this.” He shook his head. “Go on.”

While I spoke, he paced up and down the bedroom, rubbing his forehead, averting his gaze. Frustration radiated from him. My first reaction was defensive.I did what was needed.

I played the recording to him and sat on the corner chair, then took a deep breath. He stopped pacing and faced me with his hands on his hips.

“Isla, we’re partners. You should have told me about this.” His lips closed around a curse. “You have two men—no, not just men, twocops—watching you. This could potentially damage our heroin case.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “And I cannot believe you agreed to meet a cop at the top of the mountain. With no one around. No one even knew you were there.”

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