take chances.’
‘But I did take chances, Hal. Instead of sticking around this afternoon and mounting a proper search, I left Scobie in charge and swanned off to the city. What if she’s dead because I didn’t take it that one step further?’
‘But you have to cover the obvious bases first,’ he said soothingly, ‘and that’s what Scobie was doing.’
‘I know, but I feel guilty.’
‘And you’ve made up for it.’
She laughed without humour. ‘Now everyone thinks I’m overreacting.’
‘You’ve got good instincts,’ Challis said. ‘Better instincts than I have.’
Did she not believe him, or not believe that he believed it? She was about to reply when he said, ‘Get Kellock and van Alphen on side. They’ll look out for their own interests first, but they’re straight and they’re canny. Above all, don’t let McQuarrie stage-manage everything.’
‘I know. It’s just that I keep imagining Katie Blasko somewhere dark,’ she said. ‘She’s hurt. She’s scared. I know you have to take a step back and not get involved, but it’s hard.’
‘Actually,’ Challis said, ‘I don’t think you can be a good investigator if you don’t feel something. Feelings are an essential part of imagination and intuition. You can’t do those things cold.’
They’d never talked like this before. Perhaps it was the phone. She liked it. ‘You think so?’
‘Positive.’
‘Thanks, Hal.’
They lingered on the line. Eventually she heard him say, ‘Goodnight. Call me if you need me.’
‘How’s your dad?’ she said, because she wanted to know, and to prolong his voice in her ear.
9
Early on Saturday morning, Ellen was back at Katie Blasko’s house, acting on the firm principle that you always examine the home situation first. In this case she wanted another look at Justin Pedder, the mother’s de facto. His alibi for Thursday afternoon was sound, but that didn’t mean anything. For all that Ellen knew, he’d been sharing Katie with his mates, only this time something went wrong and they’d killed and dumped the girl. Or he’d stoked them with photos and fantasies and they’d decided they wanted some of that action while he was away at the races.
Or he was completely innocent. Certainly he was unknown to the rape squad, the child exploitation unit and the various government agencies like Children’s Services.
But Ellen was thinking of the six-year-old, Shelly. Was she next? Would Pedder groom her, too, and discard her as easily as he’d discarded Katie? Had Katie been discarded-too old? — or had something gone wrong, she’d been smothered to shut her up, or strangled because someone failed to control himself?
Wanting answers to some of these questions, Ellen knocked on Donna Blasko’s door at eight o’clock. Donna answered, blotchy from weeping and sleeplessness, stale smelling, a tissue in one hand, wearing a grimy towelling robe over men’s pyjama pants and a green T-shirt. The air was laden with odours: breakfast toast and bacon, and older, fuggier layers that Ellen automatically sifted through, identifying cigarettes, beer, marijuana and perspiration. She wanted to open up the house, every door and window. A TV set droned in the background: cartoons.
‘Have you found her?’
Ellen shook her head. ‘Sorry, Donna, and sorry to call so early. May I come in?’
‘S pose,’ said Donna reluctantly.
They moved through the sitting room to the kitchen at the back, skirting a pizza box, a bra, empty DVD case, the Saturday Herald Sun, toys, and the little sister, Shelly, sprawled in front of a wide-screen TV. ‘Excuse the mess.’
‘You should see my place,’ said Ellen, then wondered why she’d said it. She didn’t have a place. Her old place had been tidy, with Larrayne no longer living in it. Donna looked at Ellen in astonishment, either because she thought the police were neat or she didn’t expect kindness. ‘Cuppa tea?’
‘Thank you.’
Ellen sat, touched the sticky tabletop, withdrew her hand into her lap. The sink was piled with breakfast dishes, the fridge noisy, the floor grimy, linoleum tiles lifting here and there. And apparently the cat liked to move its food from the bowl to the floor. Ellen itched to get a scraper out.
‘Justin still in bed?’
Donna shook her head. ‘Out with his mates.’
Ellen’s disapproval must have been apparent, for Donna added aggrievedly, ‘They’re looking for Katie.’
Ellen got her notebook out. ‘Bright and early. Their names?’
‘They’re looking for Katie, I’m tellin’ ya.’
‘I don’t doubt it. We need to speak to everyone who’s had contact with your household in the past few weeks and months.’
‘I thought Katie was snatched off her bike?’
‘We’re not absolutely sure what happened,’ Ellen said. ‘But let’s not jump the gun.’ She paused. ‘I saw you on television, Donna. At no point did I state categorically to you that we thought Katie had been abducted.’
‘No, we had to hear that from the “Evening Update” guy.’
Ellen sighed. ‘There are other scenarios.’
‘So? She’s still missing, no matter what happened to her. Are the police actually doing anything to find her?’
‘Search parties went out at first light. From eight-thirty this morning an incident caravan will be parked at the entrance to Trevally Street. Officers will be on standby to hand out leaflets, answer questions and take statements. After school on Monday we’ve arranged for a model to trace Katie’s movements.’
Roslyn Sutton, in fact, Scobie’s daughter, the same age, build and height as Katie Blasko. ‘Do you have a photo of Katie on her bike? Wearing her helmet? We need to match bike and helmet.’
‘Somewhere.’
‘And a spare school uniform we can use?’
Donna was looking alarmed and confused. ‘Yeah, but what do you mean, a model?’
‘A child who resembles Katie will ride slowly from the school gates to this house, taking Katie’s usual route home. Then we’ll do it again, taking alternative routes. Several police officers will follow her, handing out leaflets. We’ll use a megaphone to explain what we’re doing. The purpose is to jog people’s memories, either of last Thursday or of other days when something out of the ordinary might have occurred.’
‘Like what?’
‘Perhaps Katie spoke to an adult along the way, a stranger or someone she knew. Or an unfamiliar vehicle was seen in the area. Anything at all. You’ll be surprised how well it works.’
Ellen held no hopes whatsoever that it would work, but couldn’t say that, and in fact Donna didn’t look gladdened. Her face crumpled.
‘You think she’s dead.’
‘We mustn’t give up hope.’
‘I wish Justin was here.’
‘A bit callous of him to leave you alone,’ Ellen said carefully.
‘I’m not alone,’ said Donna hotly, pointing in the direction of the TV in the other room. ‘Plus he’s not far away. He’s doing more than you lot to find Katie.’
Guilt? Smokescreen? Genuine concern? ‘How well did-do-he and Katie get along?’
Donna sniffed. ‘Not bad. Argue a bit.’
‘What about?’
‘Oh, you know, the usual stuff, noise, TV watching, homework, stuff like that. Katie’s always saying, “You’re not my dad”. She’s got a temper on her.’ A sudden change came over Donna’s face. ‘You think he done it, don’t you? Well, he was with me on Thursday and I can prove it. And if he was abusing her regular, or at all, would she shout and yell and give him cheek? I don’t think so. My uncle done stuff to me and I tell you now, it makes you quiet
