‘Alright, lady, time for you to go.’ Butch hoisted the diminutive woman up over his shoulder and marched her out of the house.
‘We know it was you, Murphy!’ she screeched, pounding her tiny fists against Butch’s back. ‘We all know!’
Butch put her down on the other side of the door, then slammed it shut.
‘Bring them back!’ She beat against the door. ‘Bring them back!’
Murphy backed into the table. ‘I didn’t take them,’ he said. ‘I didn’t.’
‘Don’t listen to her, lad,’ said Butch.
Murphy’s heart pounded as Nelly Mason kept beating at the door. ‘I have to talk to her.’
‘Stop,’ said Butch, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him into a seat. He fixed a joint up and lit it. ‘Don’t listen to her.’
Butch handed him the lit joint and Murphy put it to his mouth. The beating on the door stopped. ‘Please . . . please . . .’ Each word felt like a gunshot. He took the joint away and handed it back to Butch, without taking a drag. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.
‘You can’t let her —’ began Butch.
‘She thinks I did it,’ said Murphy. ‘Listen to her.’
Murphy returned to the couch and turned up the volume on the TV, trying to drown out Nelly’s sobs.
He knew Doble would try to pin it on him, but it never occurred to him the rest of the town would think that too . . .
He hadn’t forgotten Theodore Barclay, the school groundsman who’d been blamed for the 1985 disappearances; first they burned down his house, then he’d been chased through the streets and bashed black and blue. After he was locked up, he’d killed himself the moment he had bail. Out here, in the wilds of Tasmania, people tended to take justice into their own hands, and they usually got away with it.
All that pain out there . . . and people think I’m the cause . . .
These people had grown up with him, or seen him grow up. They were there when he lost Sara, lost his business, his house – nearly lost his mind. How could they think he’d do this? Jasmine was all he had.
But in the back of his mind . . .
It’s because I’m a drug dealer.
Exhaustion dragged at his bones, and he lurched up the corridor and into his bedroom. Maybe it’d be better if he didn’t leave the house for a while. He didn’t want to be bashed to death just yet. Not until after he’d found Jasmine.
Blessedly, he couldn’t hear Nelly Mason’s crying from his bed. Gus the Muss jumped up beside him, curling against his back, purring. Murphy absently rubbed his hands through Gus’s fur, one question rolling through his head: But why would she think that I’ve been in Cierra’s room?
CHAPTER 11
CON
Con woke to the sound of banging on his door. He leapt out of bed, reaching for his cricket bat, his teeth bared —
He froze. He remembered where he was. He dropped the bat, kicking it back under the bed. He pulled a fresh towel from the wardrobe and wrapped it around his waist, then opened the door.
Gabriella walked in, fully dressed, carrying her computer in one hand and a takeaway coffee from the Inn’s restaurant in the other. She sat on his bed, patting for him to sit down beside her, coffee on her breath. ‘You slept in. It’s nearly 8 am.’ She paused. ‘You alright?’
It had been a fitful night, full of vivid nightmares. ‘You were just trying to catch me in the nude, admit it,’ said Con, leaving a space between them, one hand on his towel. ‘What is it?’
‘Madison Mason. The sister of Cierra. Yesterday, I told you she was a YouTuber. Detective Coops reported that the school social worker said she wielded it like a weapon. Well, she’s uploaded a video this morning, and . . .’ She sipped her coffee, wiggling her eyebrows.
‘Not good?’ said Con.
‘Good intentions, I’m sure,’ she said, opening her computer. ‘But this whole damn town is about to blow up.’
‘Are you serious?’
Instead of answering, she hit play.
Madison’s red hair was artfully tousled, her face heavy with make-up, except where a purple bruise surrounded her left eye, gaudy in high-definition. She sat on a lush bed, speaking straight to the camera. Tears glistened in her eyes as she gave her account of events.
‘We fought, Jasmine and me, but the others got involved too. Even Bree Wilkins. I want to tell you what the fight was about but it’s not fair, because Jasmine isn’t here to defend herself. But it got . . . pretty bad.’ She touched the bruise around her eye. ‘Miss Ellis made me leave the group, made me go ahead and join the rest of the class. I was still so angry with her, with Jasmine, and even Georgia and Cierra. I . . . I told Jasmine I hated her, and then I walked way, and that was . . . that was the last I saw of them . . . I caught up with the main group, and it started to rain and thunder and Mr North made us hurry up. They’d called for a bus to pick us up at the Lake Nameless car park. But that’s . . . that’s when we realised Miss Ellis and the four girls hadn’t been seen . . .
‘And now . . . the people that you know and love from my channel, my best friend, Jasmine, is missing. My sister, Cierra, is missing. The woman I call my surrogate sister, Georgia, is missing. And a woman I once considered one of my best friends, Bree Wilkins . . . once Denni’s best friend . . . missing. Up in the bluffs. Time is . . .’ She put her head in her hands.
‘Please . . .’ She looked back up the camera, doe eyes imploring the viewer. ‘If anyone out there can help, please come join the search efforts. I know my sister is still out there – I know she is. I can feel it in my . . . There’s just so much ground to cover . . . no matter where you are in Australia, or in the world —’
‘Look how many views she’s had already,’ said Gabriella over the top of Madison’s voice. ‘Over a million. It’s only been up for an hour! I got a call from Constable Darren Cahil, the search controller, saying there’s been carloads of people showing up at the lookout track. It’s a nightmare. They need to preserve the tracks in case there’s evidence that’s been missed, but a lot of them are going vigilante. In this weather, it’ll be a miracle if we don’t lose any searchers.’
The video had continued, showing some footage of three of the girls – Georgia, Cierra and Jasmine – from the back seat of their school bus, apparently on the first morning of the camp, Madison introducing each of them through voiceover. The music was quite stirring.
‘Why did these girls fight?’ muttered Con. ‘What was it about?’
The video cut back to Madison in her bedroom. ‘I only have a little bit of footage of Bree – we were good friends last year, but things changed after Denni . . . But we did film a project together at the start of last year, for Health. I’ll upload it tonight. Please, keep all four of them in your prayers, and if anyone is able: please please please come to Limestone Creek. Join the search . . . bring our girls home . . .
‘I know that some of you don’t believe in . . . in the Hungry Man. But, once upon a time, five girls went missing in these same mountains, and they were never heard or seen again. I can’t . . .’ Her voice broke and she needed a few seconds to calm herself. ‘I believe he’s real. I think the Hungry Man is back. Don’t let the Hungry Man take four new victims. Not only for these girls, but the girls of the past. We’ll take back the bone of the bone man. We need to stop the Hungry Man.’