Connor looked at her, and his expression relaxed a little. “No, you shouldn’t.” There was another one of those heavy silences, where Aurora could feel sweat beading up on the skin of her back. And then Connor lifted his hands and stepped back, shaking his head. “All right.”
He took the beer from Brett, and Aurora saw the condensation standing on the can like a mirror of the sweat on his skin.
“Sorry, man,” Brett said. And he lifted his cup in a salute.
7
It was a strange feeling to be writing case notes based on intelligence when Jonah knew all of this himself. He knew the people he was writing about, too, though not well enough to help him.
Though this group and occasional others had used the area to camp in before, it was not an official site and was accessed through the woods by a winding, unclear path.
He didn’t need to read the notes to help him describe the place. He hadn’t even needed to see the site again. He had memories of tramping the same paths over and over in a search that had widened only in the tiniest increments. He remembered, too, his strange optimism that he would find somewhere that nobody else had looked. It had turned into a desperate sort of determination and had driven him to carry on the search during his leave, and long into the night when he should have gone off duty.
The summary of events was simple, yet strange.
Seven adolescents had gone camping just after the end of term. Three of them had been fifteen, two sixteen, one eighteen, and one—Aurora—just fourteen. None of them had turned in until midnight, and Aurora had gone first. She had taken her sleeping mat a little way from the campsite to avoid being disturbed by the others, who had been drinking and were talking and laughing loudly. She had been well outside the ring of light cast by the fire, and invisible to them.
The others had gone to bed later in dribs and drabs. They thought they had seen Aurora still in her sleeping bag, but none of them was quite sure. They had heard nothing to indicate any violence.
When early morning came, Connor Dooley, fifteen, had woken up thirsty, and gone to get himself some water. He found Aurora’s sleeping bag empty, and guessed she had gone to find a quiet spot to relieve herself. But after some time, he became concerned, and on investigating the sleeping bag found that it was cold and dewy on the inside.
Connor woke the missing girl’s sister, Topaz Jackson, fifteen. A search ensued that gradually brought in all six of the remaining teenagers. After half an hour, Daniel Benham, sixteen, stated that he would cycle to Lyndhurst to raise the alarm. The one driver, Brett Parker, eighteen, was still intoxicated. He and the other five continued searching while Daniel cycled to Lyndhurst.
Local police logged a call from Daniel Benham at 07:09, after he discovered the Lyndhurst police station to be closed and knocked on an adjacent door to use the phone. A squad car arrived at 07:48. By 09:17, a full search team had arrived and the nearby community was alerted shortly afterward. The active search went on for almost two weeks, with more and more of the nation becoming alerted.
Like so many stories of beautiful young girls snatched away, it became a rallying call and a subject of huge speculation. Hours and hours of television and reams of paper were devoted to her.
And then, gradually, the story became old and tired. Thirty years passed, and Aurora was never found.
* * *
—
AT FOUR, HE received a brief email from the DCS, checking in. It was a relief to receive it. He’d been expecting a visit to make sure things were happening and although Wilkinson was easy to work with, firing off a quick summary of his plans was much easier than going through it all in person right now.
Ten minutes later, he received a reply.
All fine. Do the press briefing first thing and we can chat after that. I won’t expect you at the senior management meeting tomorrow.
That was the kind of message Jonah liked, and showed one of Wilkinson’s very best qualities. He believed that his best officers should be directly involved in cases, and he would duck, dodge, and weave behind the scenes to keep them from the endless meetings most DCIs were expected to attend.
Jonah ducked out of the station to eat at just after 6:30. A day of grazing on sugar-packed convenience foods and riding from high to high had left him feeling sickly and in desperate need of something savory.
He’d offered to take Hanson along, but she had declined with a smile. Possibly equal parts not wanting to be stuck having dinner with the boss, and wanting to impress him with how hard she was willing to work.
He told her to be ready for their first house calls on his return. The plan he had put to the chief super had been to visit as many of their list of connected people as possible before the story leaked and they were forewarned. Surprise was a powerful thing, and he wanted them all shaken to hell.
The air was still heavy with heat on Southern Road. The traffic had become sluggish with shoppers leaving the retail park, making it easy for him to jog across the road. He made his way down the cut-through beside the Novotel and struck out toward TGI Fridays, where there would be a greasy cheeseburger to demolish. This was his one regular vice. He could have stayed in the station and picked up a wrap or a piece of cottage pie at the canteen, but he liked to reward himself when he’d done a good run of desk work.
He had never enjoyed being in his office and working through notes. It made him fractious and claustrophobic to be trapped indoors for hours. He sometimes imagined this was the traveler blood in him. But then, who really did enjoy being stuck behind a desk?
He asked the waiter to make it as quick as possible, and sat drinking a Diet Coke while he waited. He lost himself a dozen times in the memories of his newly qualified nineteen-year-old self, and was shocked back into the present by noise.
It was mostly that group of seven who occupied his thoughts. The ones everyone at school knew, and to some extent wanted to be.
Daniel Benham—Benners to everyone back then—had formed the center of the group. He had been the big philosopher, the kind of free-thinking, argumentative student that teachers had either loved or hated, depending on how threatened they felt. He had also been sultry and attractive, decidedly well off, and a talented guitarist and singer. Popularity had come easily.
Topaz and Benners had become an item early in secondary school, drawn together presumably by their shared attractiveness and by their love of rule breaking. The romance had gone nowhere, but they had remained close friends after it fizzled out. And Coralie, Topaz’s pretty but slightly vacuous best friend, had been a willing participant in all their activities, and a loyal follower.
Connor and Jojo had been drawn in pretty soon afterward. It was hardly surprising. Connor was at least as smart as Benners, if not brighter, and was even more antiestablishment. Jojo was as opinionated and quick thinking as either of them, and probably a good deal wilder.