‘Yeah, but not when she left.’
‘So let’s imagine she’s off to meet some secret boyfriend. She fakes a study session with a friend, hides a short skirt under her top. She takes off, changes in the woods and heads up to Myrtle Avenue. From Myrtle she takes the bus to wherever she’s going. So far, it’s pretty normal for a sixteen year old, right?’
‘Yeah, except she doesn’t get to the bus stop. None of the drivers remember her and she’s a pretty striking girl.’
‘So she didn’t make it to the bus,’ said Harper. He pointed. ‘Whatever happened to Abby probably started in those woods. Have they been searched?’
‘There was a community search. Mainly friends, family and volunteers.’
‘They would’ve been looking for a body, not evidence of what happened. Let’s take a look.’
‘Any evidence would’ve been washed away by now, wouldn’t it?’
‘Not necessarily. We don’t know what we’re looking for yet.’
Harper and Levene clambered up the small bank into the woods and started to walk.
They walked up the whole path and back, then through four other routes. The site of the hollow tree where Abby had left her books and clothes indicated the main path she’d taken between Park Avenue South and Myrtle. It would’ve been very dark under the canopy that night.
‘Let’s suppose she ran off the path. Where would she go?’ said Harper.
They tried several different routes off the path but didn’t find anything. Then they traveled back up to Myrtle. Harper started walking in and out of the trees, trying to imagine where he would hide if he was an attacker. He stopped at one tree that gave him cover from both the road and the path. It also gave a perfect sightline. He smoothed his hand over the bark.
‘What’s this?’ Harper said, staring at the tree trunk. Denise moved over and looked at the carving. ‘88,’ said Harper. ‘What does that mean?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Denise.
‘I’m going to get Crime Scene to look at this. Someone needs to check the Capske crime scene again. Maybe this killer likes to leave a signature.’
‘If it’s his.’
‘So, look, if it is his, then he’s waiting here, right by Myrtle Avenue. You know why?’
‘No.’
‘Come on, Denise. Why doesn’t he go deeper into the woods?’
‘He needs to be near his vehicle.’
‘That’s right. There was no body found in the woods, so dead or alive, he took the body someplace else. But there’s no sign of a struggle. Let’s imagine he meets her right here. Let’s imagine she manages to escape. Where does she go? Let’s play it out.’
‘Just like old times,’ said Denise.
‘Go and get ready. You play Abby.’
Denise walked down the path and turned. She walked back towards the tree. As she approached, Harper jumped out. ‘Now, let’s imagine I’m right-handed, so this arm comes out here and grabs you. What do you do?’
‘I pull away.’
She pulled away and broke his grip. Her body flew off to the left.
‘Okay, where now?’
Denise looked. She only had two options. ‘I wouldn’t take the path. He’d catch me. If I’m familiar with these woods, I’d chance this overgrown path.’
They both looked into the path. Harper walked slowly along it. ‘It gets thick here. Look, broken thorns and twigs. Not too fresh.’
Denise peered around. ‘She could’ve come this way.’
They followed the half-track. It opened out at one point. Harper pointed to the ground. ‘Look at that root. In the dark, would you see it?’
‘I doubt it,’ said Denise.
Harper knelt. ‘She may have stumbled. Then what?’ He looked around, spotted something about three meters away. There was a tiny glint of some unnatural color. He got up, walked towards it and knelt again, taking out a pocket-knife. The object was bright pink. He scraped away enough of the mud with the knife and read the label.
‘Denise, come over. There’s something here.’ Harper pointed at the small pink cylinder. ‘The brand name is Hot and Pink.’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s a girl-friendly brand of pepper spray — eighteen grams. The safety lid is open. It’s been used.’
‘You think it might be hers?’
Harper stood up. ‘I don’t know if your guy, Dr Goldenberg, knew whether she carried pepper spray?’
‘She did. Pepper spray and a rape alarm. He made her.’
‘I’ll call CSU — this might be a crime scene. You call Dr Goldenberg, see if Abby used Hot and Pink.’
‘How long before you can get a print?’ asked Denise.
‘If there’s one on there, we could have this case opened in under an hour.’ Harper walked Denise away from the scene. ‘Keep off the evidence. How long has she been missing?’
‘Nine or ten days.’
‘For nine days whoever took her has been getting his kicks, thinking that this girl is never going to be looked for. He’s probably feeling good about himself. This is going to change things for him. Suddenly, the game shifts. We’re hunting a potential killer here. If he hasn’t contacted the family, this doesn’t look good for Abby.’
‘What odds do you give her?’
‘Someone took her with minimum hassle. He either killed her after he raped her and put her body somewhere safe, or he’s got her somewhere.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What do we do now?’
‘Shake the tree, Denise. Shake the tree. Make him do something. If he’s listening and if she’s out there, let’s tell the media that it’s a murder enquiry and see if he wants to change our minds about that.’
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Aaron Goldenberg opened the door. His eyes were already red. He saw Tom Harper behind Denise Levene. He was just the kind of big, brutal cop that he’d expected. Since Abby had disappeared, Aaron Goldenberg had imagined the moment he was told about her death.
In fact, he rehearsed it every day. He imagined that it was about to happen every time the mailman called, every time the paperboy came by, every time visitors rang the bell; and every time the phone went, he waited for the news that would tear him to pieces. He knew that he would never get up again after he heard; that his body would sink and die. As it should. He’d make it his duty never to allow himself to get up again.
He heard Denise Levene say something. He tried to listen. She repeated it.
‘Sit down, please, Aaron,’ she said.
‘Please tell me. If you have bad news, please be quick.’ Aaron stared up at Denise, imploring her, desperate with fear.
‘I need you to keep calm, Aaron.’ She leaned in and took his arm, sitting with him on the couch. He glanced across to Harper.
‘Is he the one? You’re only a psychologist. It has to be a cop to give the bad news, right?’
‘This is Tom Harper. I told you about him. He’s a very good cop. The best. He said he’d help.’
