It might’ve been in the files Coops sent, but he couldn’t remember reading it. Surely the social worker would have mentioned it.
‘You didn’t know about Bree’s PTS?’ Anger crept into Madison’s voice. ‘Have you done any research? It’s not a secret: Bree tells anyone who will listen.’
‘You mentioned in your video that you had footage of Bree,’ said Gabriella quickly. ‘Could we see that before you upload it?’
‘If you have to,’ she said, her voice still heated. ‘I was midway through editing it when you arrived. All I can do is these videos. You know, something that actually helps?’
‘Well, actually —’ began Con, but Gabriella kicked him. He had been thinking of the chaos her last video had caused up at the track.
They followed Madison to her bedroom: a bright and open space, tidy and clean, boasting a king-sized bed with plush birds lined up along the pillow. A large computer screen stood on a desk against the wall, video-editing software open.
Madison sat down at the desk. ‘We filmed this last year . . . a lot has changed since then.’
She played the video. Bree sat in front of a black backdrop. She wore no make-up, her blonde hair was scruffy and loose around her face, and her pale eyes were full of anger.
‘My name is Bree Wilkins . . . and this is my spoken word.’
A steady drum beat played in the background. The video cut to another angle: Bree’s face blurred, then sharpened back into focus. The production was artsy and sleek. A guitar riff began, and so did Bree’s performance:
‘Some days it’s like I’ll feel only one of three things:
hollow or lifeless or like I’m covered in stings
from the clothes I have to wear,
the smile on my face that won’t compare
with the smile on the screen
from an Instagram Queen.
I can’t pretend I don’t feel bad about my waist,
but maybe there’s more than how much food is on my plate
to make me feel like I’m not beneath the Queen Bee,
maybe I can be Queen Bree without needing to kill me —’
Gabriella glanced at Con, eyebrows raised. He kept watching the screen.
‘If people get near me, they’ll be infected too:
then they’ll hate me as much as I do —’
Abruptly, the video ended in a black screen.
Madison shook her head. ‘Since Denni, she’s been struggling with suicidal thoughts, too,’ she said. ‘But that’s all that I’ve done so far. There’s so much footage, but we never finished it. Bree freaked out after we filmed it and made me swear never to share it.’
‘Freaked out?’ said Gabriella.
‘Got angry. Got upset. Told me she thought the whole project was a waste of time and she’d sue me if the footage ever came out. Or hit me. Or kill me. I forget the details.’
‘So you’re going to share it now?’ said Con, a little more accusatory than he intended.
‘Do you know how many people my video has brought to the search?’ said Madison, suddenly defensive again, voice rising. ‘You didn’t even know Bree had PTS! Don’t you even profile the missing? I can’t sit here and do nothing. You don’t know what those girls mean to me! My twin sister. My best friends!’
‘I thought you didn’t get on with Bree,’ said Con.
Gabriella kicked him again and this time he gave her a look. Madison was putting on a good act, but he was starting to feel an act was all it was. What the hell does she know that she’s not telling us?
Madison gave him a withering look. She turned back to the screen. ‘I need to finish this video. You can find your own way out.’
Being dismissed by a 16-year-old was not an experience Con enjoyed, but Gabriella grabbed his arm and he let her drag him outside. His mind was turning, carefully putting observations and facts into boxes, listing options and priorities and questions he needed answered.
They were in the car before Gabriella spoke, ignoring a foreign journalist nearby, in make-up and high heels standing in front of a camera, the Masons’ house in the background. ‘Madison was all by herself on that same trail, but she wasn’t taken. I mean, she’s the one with the massive profile – did someone take Cierra by mistake?’
‘Madison is hiding something,’ said Con.
‘Oh? Maybe you should go back in and you can do some more of your delicate questioning?’
‘Surely she would tell us anything she thought would help find the girls.’
‘Back to my question then, Badenhorst – could someone have taken Cierra by mistake?’
‘Cierra was wearing a bright blue wig, which makes it hard to confuse the pair,’ said Con. ‘But could Bree have had something to do with it? Madison said she got angry —’
‘Eliza is right: I bet it’s a boy,’ Gabriella interrupted.
‘What?’
‘The reason for the fight. It must be about a boy.’
‘How could you possibly know —’
‘If you get to have your special detective intuition, so do I,’ Gabriella said.
‘I agree that there’s more here. Call Coops and ask him to send us everything he’s got from talking with the teachers and friends.’
‘Coops is a good detective but we should be out there, interviewing everyone —’
‘We can’t be everywhere.’
‘— finding out who is dating who, who cheated on who. All teenage girls care about are boys, or girls if they prefer, and the only way we’re going to —’
‘Getting bogged down sorting through the quagmire of teenage relationships is a slow way to start a case,’ he said.
‘You don’t think it’s important?’ she demanded.
‘Yes, it is. But it will take a long time, and it’s just one item on the list of inferences we’re dealing with – it’s a big list. Was there foul play or are they just lost? What about Eliza’s head wound? What about the “bear” in the trees? If it’s foul play, any one of the girls could be the target – and the others could be in on it, or taken out as witnesses. Then there’s the historic disappearances – we don’t really know if Ted Barclay was guilty of those or not. One of the fathers is a drug dealer. A YouTube celebrity is friends with all the missing girls.’
‘So the case is full of mysteries! Let’s cross one off the list.’ She pulled out her phone and began scrolling. ‘I’m calling the hospital. I want to know why Eliza Ellis thinks the fight was about a boy.’
Con opened his mouth to argue – they still didn’t have the doctor’s all-clear – but Gabriella was already speaking on the phone. He huffed, then started the BMW in what he hoped was an angry sort of manner.
‘Fantastic,’ said Gabriella when she hung up. ‘Eliza was released from hospital this morning. Apparently they left a message with the station, but no one told us.’
‘These country police stations,’ said Con, a burst of frustration rolling through him. ‘They don’t know their inbox from their elbow.’
‘They said she’s gone to stay with her sister. I’ve got her address.’