Copyright PD Martin 2010
Draft only
Note: Remember the xxx is the character that will be named after one of my readers. See the Welcome page for more info.
Darren leans forward, obviously realising from my face that something’s up. I switch the phone to speaker.
‘Do they know now? Does he remember what happened?’ I ask.
‘Not sure. The contact’s chasing him down as we speak. He was in foster care for six years – on paper it looks pretty good. One family, one other child, apparently very warm and loving towards him. After what he must have gone through I hope the reality reflects the paperwork.’
If he was a victim of the same man the trauma would affect him forever. But with lots of love and maybe a little luck…maybe he could come to terms with what happened. At first it was probably just as well he didn’t remember but now – now we need him to remember.
I chew on my bottom lip, wondering who this man is today. ‘Did he take on the foster parents’ family name?’
‘Uh huh. They chose Anthony as the first name and the last name is Wake. I’m also running his name over here. Just in case.’
‘Good idea.’ I pause. ‘Anthony Wake.’ I let the name roll off my tongue and try to imagine how I’ll feel when I meet him. To talk to someone who may have experienced what John and the others went through…and lived to tell the tale. ‘He could break the case.’
‘If he remembers or we can get him to remember, he could at least give us a sketch of the suspect, or what he looked like back then.’ Lily’s voice is full of hope. A concrete lead.
‘A face…’ I say softly, finding it hard to impose a real face onto the shadows from my nightmares. If we can track down Anthony Wake, soon we’d have that face. Hopefully. Of course, it’s possible he’s kept the painful memories repressed all these years and if that’s the case, drudging up old memories of unspeakable trauma is probably the last thing he wants to do. He managed to repress everything about himself, even his name, his parents…if he had to blank everything out to cope with what he’d been through, what sort of a man would he be now? Could he have moved on? Become a successful person and a family man? It’s more likely his demons have driven him to drugs or alcohol to keep up with the numbing effect of repressed memories. These thoughts puncture my hope. Please let him give us something.
Lily’s voice brings me back. ‘Hold on. I’ve got a call on my mobile.’
I listen to muzak, while Lily Murphy takes the call. I’m presuming it’s about Anthony Wake. It shouldn’t take long to locate the foster parents, locate Anthony Wake from a driver’s licence or car registration. Most men in their forties have a car or license, but if they strike out on that front, maybe they’ll find a criminal record or tax file number. Or maybe the parents are dead and we’ll find death certificates.
‘God I hope Anthony Wake is alive,’ I say, suddenly realising it’s possible he’s dead. To have such a good lead snatched away from us…after thirty years of wondering and anguish? I take a deep breath.
Darren holds my hand. ‘She’s probably talking to New Zealand now.’
I nod. ‘I know. I hope they’ve found him…and alive.’
‘Me too.’
‘Soph?’ Lily Murphy comes back on the line.
‘Uh huh.’ I gulp, hoping it’s inaudible to Lily.
‘We’ve found him. Our end.’
Our end? If it’s through our resources, it means he must be in Australia. ‘In Australia?’
‘Uh huh.’
Emigrating from New Zealand to Australia is quite common, especially in some occupations where Australia’s larger population provides more opportunities.
‘Where?’
‘Melbourne.’
‘Shit.’ I pause, my mind flitting through all the possibilities. What are the chances of getting this lucky? Could it truly be a coincidence? ‘You think it’s luck or something more ominous?’
‘The thought’s crossed my mind too. I’ve got an address and I’m heading there now with Detective Shaw and his partner xxx.’
‘Any chance I can tag along?’
‘Might be able to swing it because I don’t think Faulkner’s coming. Beneath him to question a witness. He only went to the Baker’s home because he knew there’d be press there.’
I nod, but in some ways it’s fair enough. The media prefer to speak to someone as high up the chain as possible, and having the head of Homicide on-site makes a statement. However, the media doesn’t know about Anthony Wake. Not yet, and hopefully not for a while. I certainly don’t want them getting a whiff of him until we decide if he’s a victim and witness or a possible suspect in these latest crimes. A victim of the perp who was active in the seventies becoming the perp in these latest abductions is a possibility we have to explore.
‘Go to Wake’s house and then call me. I’ll try to smooth it out with Shaw.’
‘I think he’ll be okay with it.’
‘Yeah, me too. But just call me before you come in. That way I can confirm Faulkner’s not on scene and not about to turn up.’
‘Sure.’
‘And bring your Yank if you like.’
I give Darren an awkward grin. ‘You’re on speaker, Lily. He’s here with me now.’
‘Oh…oops. Sorry, Darren isn’t it?’
Darren leans forward. ‘Hey, Lily.’
‘Hi. Um…yank’s a term of endearment, you know.’
Darren smiles. ‘Whatever you say.’
‘Sorry. I’ll see you guys there in thirty. The address is 15 Viewbank Road, Eltham. You might even beat us there.’
Eltham’s an almost rural-style suburb in Melbourne’s north-east suburbs, which gives Lily an extra ten or so kilometres to travel than us.
‘See you soon.’ I hang up and go straight to Dad’s safe and take out my 9mm hand gun.
‘What are you doing, Soph?’
‘What does it look like I’m doing? It’s not that uncommon for the victim to become the perpetrator, you know. And the fact that Anthony Wake now lives in Victoria, right where the abductions and murders are happening…’
‘But one of the bodies was dumped in the exact location as your brother. The only person who’d be able to replicate that is the killer or maybe law enforcement.’
Darren’s got a good point, but not good enough for me to even consider losing the 9mm. I shrug, loading the gun and taking the spare clip with me. ‘Better to be safe than sorry.’
Darren hesitates. ‘You got a license for that?’
‘Of course, Darren. You really think I’d stash an unlicensed gun in my father’s safe?’
He smiles. ‘You’re right. You’re too much of straight shooter for that.’ His smile widens. ‘No pun intended.’
Tucking the gun into the small of my back I make for the door. ‘Let’s go.’
‘What are you going to tell your folks?’
I stop in my tracks. I don’t want to get their hopes up, but I also don’t want to keep them in the dark. ‘I’ll tell them we’ve got a potential lead, but we don’t know much about it yet.’
Darren nods and leads the way to the kitchen.
******
Anthony Wake’s house is in the older part of Eltham, which has mostly weatherboards and larger blocks of land, rather than the more suburban style houses that were put up in the past ten to twenty years. Eltham’s only twenty-five kilometres from the city, but parts of it are extremely rural with a more arty and country feel. In the seventies it was an outer suburb, and home to many prominent artists. Now, with the urban expanse gobbling up land all around it, Eltham has become a blend of the old and the new, the artists and the young white-collar families. Eltham is also home to the iconic Montsalvat, a twelve-acre estate with stunning European architecture and a thriving artist retreat. It has many artists in residence and is the home of the Montsalvat Jazz Festival every January – and an extremely popular wedding venue.
We wind our way around Main Road. ‘We’re close now.’
Darren nods, sensing my nervous energy and excitement. My gun’s now in my handbag, for comfort more than anything else. Lily Murphy won’t be armed, but Detectives Shaw and xx will both have easy access to their guns. Can’t say having mine tucked away in my handbag is reassuring but I know the chances I’ll need it are slim.
Viewbank Road is nestled in the older section of Eltham, and number fifteen is up a small hill. I drive up, cruise by the house, and then do a U-turn and park several doors down. Anthony Wake’s house is a traditional weatherboard that’s well looked after. The boards look like they’ve been freshly painted or perhaps replaced with the fake boards. The white boards are offset by charcoal grey door frames and window frames, and a large wooden deck extends a few metres out the front. The block of land is quite steep, so the front of the deck is supported by long posts, roughly three metres high. The house seems quiet, but we’ll have to park for a little longer before we can be certain that Wake’s not at home.
‘How do you feel?’ Darren asks.
I take a deep breath. ‘I have no idea. I’ve got so much adrenaline, excitement and fear coursing through my body I don’t know what’s what.’
Darren smiles. ‘Sounds about right.’
To a certain extent those feelings would be common for any cop on a case with the scent of a big break. But for me, this case, everything’s compounded by about a thousand…or maybe a million.
‘How long you think they’ll be?’
I shrug. ‘Don’t know. But I said I’d call Lily, so I’ll do that now and see how far away they are.’
I dial Lily’s mobile number and within a few rings she picks up. ‘You there?’ she says immediately, obviously recognising my number.
‘Uh huh. Out front.’
‘And?’
‘Doesn’t look like he’s home. But I can’t be sure yet.’
‘Okay. Sit tight. We’ve got more info on Anthony Wake, including the fact that he’s single and works in Ivanhoe. He’s probably still at work or on his way home.’
Lily or Detective Shaw would have assigned someone to gather info on Anthony Wake, looking for anything and everything that could help us. ‘What else did you find?’
‘Doesn’t look like he’s ever married, unless it was in New Zealand or somewhere else. First logged entering Australia in 1990. Worked here for a year in a few cafes and then went back to New Zealand. Returned to Australia in 2000, obviously with some sort of qualification and professional work experience because he’s working as a draftsman for an architecture firm in Ivanhoe.’
I digest the information. He came out to live here in 2000, eight years before the first abduction in the more recent spate of child abductions and murders. And he’s based in Melbourne, not the country. These two things make it more likely that his interest for us is purely as a past victim. ‘Any links to Bendigo, Shepparton or Euroa?’ I ask.
‘Not that we’ve found. Only one property in his name, the Eltham one.’
I don’t know whether I’m relieved or disappointed. I knew this man couldn’t have been responsible for John’s death, but he could have been involved in the three boys who’ve disappeared or been found dead in the past three years. I would have preferred to be closing in on the perp, but who knows… maybe one conversation with Anthony Wake will point us in the right direction.
It’s twenty minutes later that Shaw and xx turn up, followed closely by Lily Murphy. Like me, they park a few doors down from Wake’s home. Lily also pulls into the opposite side of the road, so there aren’t three cars parked in a row. Once she’s out of her car, Lily slides into the back seat of the detectives’ car and is talking to them for a few minutes before heading over to us and sitting in our back seat.
‘Any news?’ I ask, turning around.
‘No. Nothing more on Wake. But Shaw said he doesn’t mind if you come in for the interview.’ Her eyes drop for a moment. ‘Given the circumstances.’ She looks at Darren. ‘Darren?’
He nods and offers his hand. ‘Nice to meet you Ms Murphy.’ Darren often goes for the more formal address when he first meets someone. I’m not sure if it’s a cultural thing or just part of his personality.
‘Call me Lily.’
He nods.
‘So, you think maybe we should head to Ivanhoe?’ I ask.
Lily shakes her head. ‘It’s nearly six…we could miss him on the way there.’
‘What if he’s working late?’ Darren asks.
Lily nods. ‘I’ll give the office a call. See if he’s in.’
Lily takes out her phone and a small notebook. Once she’s flipped through to the correct page, she punches in the phone number. ‘Hi, is Anthony Wake still in?…Okay. Thanks.’ Lily hangs up and looks at us. ‘Left five minutes ago.’
I nod. ‘Assuming he’s coming straight home he should be here in ten to fifteen minutes, twenty tops.’ I look at Darren. ‘Ivanhoe’s only about ten kilometres…sorry, six miles from here. Even with peak-hour traffic it shouldn’t be too long.’
I take another deep, steadying breath, hoping that Anthony Wake can give us something on the man that took him and presumably John too. That’s our other stumbling block of course, that the abductions in New Zealand aren’t related to the ones here, despite the similarities. John and Anthony may have been taken by different beasts and suffered different fates.
I feel Lily’s eyes on me.
‘Tell me you’re not carrying, Soph.’
I look guiltily at Darren, then Lily.
‘Jeez, Soph. You’ve got too much at stake in this case to be armed.’
‘This could be our guy. Not the one who took John, obviously, but maybe Curtis Baker’s in there right now.’
Lily glances doubtfully at the house. ‘If the kid screamed the neighbours would hear.’
‘Wake could have a room or basement that’s soundproof.’
Lily shrugs. ‘Maybe.’ She looks at Darren. ‘Keep an eye on her, okay.’
Darren smiles. ‘Always.’
Lily studies the house. ‘We’ve got at least ten minutes. I’ll get Shaw and xx to have a look around. Maybe if they hear something…’
I nod and explain it to Darren. ‘Victorian Law states that if the police think a child or woman is in immediate danger, no warrant’s required to enter a private residence.’ When it comes to law enforcement, common sense has to rule.
Lily nods. ‘But we should be quick. This guy’s been through enough and the last thing he needs is cops harassing him for no reason.’
‘True.’ For an instant I picture Anthony Wake as John – imagine if my brother had survived, only to be suspected of being a paedophile and murderer himself thirty years later? I shudder at the thought. A wrongful accusation can damage someone’s life forever. If someone’s accused of this sort of crime, most people will never feel one hundred percent certain of their innocence…somewhere there’s always a small seed of doubt. Lily’s right we need to tread extremely carefully. It won’t take much for neighbours to start talking, wondering, and the media never seems to far behind a good story either. Hopefully Victoria Police’s Homicide team is as tight as a steel trap at the moment.
‘You guys wait here.’ Lily opens the door.
‘Hey,’ I call out. ‘We can cover more ground if Darren and I take a look too.’
Lily hesitates, half out of the car. ‘Lose the gun and you’ve got a deal.’
I wince but agree to her terms. With my handbag, and gun, stashed underneath the driver’s seat, Darren and I move towards the house. We’re not far behind Shaw, xxx and Lily.
‘Hey, Anderson.’ Shaw gives me a smile.
‘Hi. Thanks for…’
‘Keeping my mouth shut?’
I smile. ‘Yeah.’
The street is quiet, like either Wake’s neighbours are still at work or tucked up in bed. Given it’s not yet six, I have to assume they’re still commuting. The quiet makes things easier for us, and soon Shaw and xxx are leading the way, guns drawn, with Lily, Darren and me in tow.
Shaw and Lily go up the steps to the front door and the deck, Darren and I move towards the windows we can see underneath the deck, and xxx moves towards the left side of the house. I still find myself torn between feeling that we’re encroaching on a victim’s privacy to thinking maybe we’re about to find Curtis Baker and spare him any more pain. Without a gun I find myself feeling weak and helpless, even though I know I’m well-trained in hand-to-hand combat, with a black belt in Kung Fu. The reality is, after so many years of leading with a gun, it’s strange to have both hands hanging loose by my sides. Darren’s arms also seem kinda heavy to me – flapping too freely next to him.
Darren gets to the windows first, keeping low on the off chance that someone is inside and could see him. It reminds me that multiple perpetrators is still a factor in this case, and one we can’t discount – just because Anthony Wake is on his way home from work doesn’t mean the coast is clear. I pull in next to Darren, sitting on my haunches. Darren signals that he’s going to have a look, before partially straightening his legs so his head peers over the window sill.
He bobs back down. ‘Looks like a games room.’
‘For kids?’ I ask, also straightening up and peering inside the room. In the centre is a pool table and to the left is one of those soccer tables. Still, if he lives alone who does he play with? Is the games room representative of a man in touch with his inner child or of someone who needs to entertain or perhaps reward young boys. Either is possible, although the pool table is definitely for an older crowd.
After five minutes of peering through windows and listening intently for any noise, we all head back to our respective cars. Five people sitting on his doorstep might be a little too overwhelming for Wake when he swings into his driveway.
We haven’t been back in our cars long when a dark blue Pajero pulls into the street and cruises into the driveway of number fifteen. Wake is wearing suit pants and a white shirt and carries a soft, tan briefcase. He’s too far away to ascertain much about him other than the basics: nearly six-foot, slender and dark brown hair. His step has got an agility to it that makes me think he’s fit and he wears dark glasses that he swings onto his head as he’s bounding up the stairs.
Shaw and xx make a move, and we stay put for the time being.
‘Anthony Wake,’ I can barely hear Shaw’s voice.
Wake turns around, half way up the steps to his front door, and takes a few steps back down.
Shaw says something, probably identifying himself because a few seconds later he pulls his ID out of his inside pocket.
After a brief exchange Shaw turns around and gives us a nod – enter the cavalry. Darren, Lily and I make our way to Anthony Wake’s front yard and once we’re on the steps Shaw introduces us.
‘Five people to ask about what happened to me in New Zealand?’ Wake seems surprised rather than skittish. Could also be that if he has remembered something about what happened to him he doesn’t want to share it with five strangers. Fair enough. If that’s the case Lily will be the best qualified to take his statement.
‘There’s a boy missing at the moment and we think it may be related,’ Shaw explains.
Wake furrows his brow. ‘Curtis…Curtis something.’
‘That’s right, Mr Wake, Curtis Baker.’ Shaw leans on the railing casually. ‘But like I said, we won’t take up much of your time.’
Wake nods. ‘I saw the parents on TV last night.’ He shakes his head. ‘Horrible stuff.’
Whether Wake remembers or not, those sort of headlines are bound to strike a chord with him.
‘Guess you better come in.’ He moves back up the stairs.
Inside, Shaw introduces us all and is upfront about my involvement, explaining that I’m a profiler who used to work for the Victoria Police but that I’m also the sister of one of the victims from the 1970s.
‘So you really think it’s the same person? After all these years?’ Wake asks once we’re all seated with cold drinks. Wake has a beer and the rest of us took the water option.
‘There are similarities between the cases that indicate the same person or someone with an intimate knowledge of the old cases,’ Shaw explains.
Wake gives a nod. ‘I still don’t remember you know.’ He takes a swig of beer. ‘Can’t remember how I got on that road, what my real name is…none of it.’
I sink deeper into the chair, even though I want to stand up and yell at Wake that a boy’s life is in question. That he needs to remember.
‘Have you ever tried hypnosis?’ Lily queries.
‘Yup. After I’d been with my foster parents for about a year they suggested it. Said my parents could be worried sick about me and wanted to do everything they could to find them.’
Lily takes a sip of water before placing her glass on the table. ‘The person I spoke to in New Zealand said there was a national campaign to find any relatives.’
He nods. ‘They never interviewed me, but I know my story was on the news and some of the current affairs shows. My foster parents went on a couple of times too, asking anyone with information to come forward.’ He drinks some more beer. ‘But it’s like I dropped onto that road from nowhere. I think some of the cops thought maybe my parents were dead. You know, that there’d been some horrible accident and I’d survived. But if that’s what happened they never found their bodies. And then there were the missing boys from the area. But if I’d been abducted from my home in the middle of the night, my parents would have come forward, right?’
Lily sighs. ‘It is a mystery.’
Wake takes another sip of beer.
‘Do you ever have any unusual dreams?’ I ask. ‘Or feel like something’s familiar?’
He shakes his head. ‘Nothing. Everyone thinkgs something really horrible must have happened to me, but I don’t remember it. I feel…normal. I went through a stage in my early twenties where I wondered what had really happened. Who I really was. But after a year of looking through birth records and more hypnosis…’ He shakes his head. ‘Still nothing. So I moved on.’
‘Sometimes an emotional trauma can manifest itself in other ways,’ Lily says. ‘Did you have any run-ins with the law?’
He shakes his head. ‘Nope.’
‘Do you mind me asking if you have a girlfriend?’ Lily crosses her legs.
‘Single at the moment, but I’ve had a couple of serious, long-term relationships and of course lots of not-so-serious girlfriends.’
‘No kids?’ I ask.
He shrugs. ‘What can I say…I haven’t found the right woman.’
‘But the relationships were healthy?’
I know Lily’s wondering if they were sexually healthy. Lots of victims of sexual abuse have a variety of intimacy difficulties in later life – from low libidos to a difficulty connecting with their partners, or anyone for that matter.
‘Yes, very healthy. I was with one girlfriend for six years and another for four years. It just didn’t feel quite right to settle down with them fully. You know, do the whole marriage and kids thing. But hopefully one day.’
Wake’s roughly forty-one – no one knows his exact age, because we don’t know his date of birth. The New Zealand officials put him between ten and thirteen when they found him. So even by today’s standards he’s leaving it relatively late to be starting a family, especially given he’s single so it’s not like his partner could be pregnant next month.
He leans forward and looks at me. ‘I’m sorry…sorry about your brother.’
I force a smile. ‘Thanks.’
‘It must be so hard…living with that all these years and not knowing.’
‘Yes it is.’ I force an evenness into my voice. ‘And I guess maybe you feel the same, Mr Wake.’
He sighs. ‘Sometimes. Like I said, most of the time I feel totally normal. But every now and again I do wonder.’
I nod. ‘Naturally.’
After a few beats of silence Lily says. ‘Would you consider hypnosis again, Mr Wake?’
He shrugs. ‘I don’t see the point. It didn’t work before, why would it work now?’
Lily gives me a meaningful glance and I pick up the hint. I’m the best placed to appeal to Wake’s emotions.
‘It could help find whoever did this to my brother. Bring my family some sense of closure.’
‘If this man really did abduct me too. And that’s a big if.’
‘Yes,’ I concede. ‘If he did.’
He sits quietly for a bit. ‘But surely I’d know. Like you said,’ he looks at me, ‘I’d have dreams or maybe even nightmares.’ He turns his gaze to Lily. ‘Or it’d come out in my relationships.’
‘The mind’s an amazing thing, Mr Wake.’ Lily leans forward. ‘It’s capable of the most extraordinary things and while there’s a little boy’s life at stake, it’s important we try everything possible.’
‘Yes of course. Curtis Baker….you’re right. If you want to try hypnotising me again I’ll do it.’ He drains the rest of the beer. ‘When?’
‘The sooner the better,’ Lily says. ‘Tonight if you’re free. Like I said, there’s a little boy’s life in the balance.’
‘Sure. Do you mind if I get changed, have some dinner?’
‘That’s fine. I’ve got someone in mind who specialises in this sort of memory recovery during hypnosis. I’ll call you in half an hour to confirm the appointment time and give you a location. It’ll probably be at his practice in Carlton.’
‘Okay.’
Lily stands up and everybody else but me follows suit. I want to spend more time with Wake – he could hold the key to John’s murder and Curtis Baker’s whereabouts. I know that if the perp follows his usual pattern Curtis’s life’s not in danger, but he’s still in the hands of a sadistic paedophile.
‘Thanks for your time, Mr Wake.’ Shaw gives a little nod.
Lily fishes a card out of her wallet. ‘Here’s my card, but I’ll call you in half an hour. Is this land line the best number for you.’
‘Yup, that’ll be fine.’
Darren reaches his hand down to me, but I give him a pleading look. He shrugs and I guess he’s right – there’s no reason to stay here. Wake doesn’t remember anything, and he’s offered to help in the only way he can – hypnosis. I force myself to standing.
‘Do you have any photos of yourself soon after you were found?’ I ask, in a last-ditch effort to stall, although there’s also a much more functional reason for my request. Does Wake fit our victim pattern visually. It’s probably pointless asking him if he was involved in sports, because he can’t remember anything from his first life, but we can compare a photo to the other boys.
‘Yes, I do. Hold on a second.’
A few minutes later he returns. The photo shows a young boy with brown hair. He’s smiling, but it looks a little forced. Or maybe I’m reading too much into the photo, knowing what probably happened to Wake. Suddenly I feel a little giddy. I give in to the sensation, desperate to get anything on this case.
Anthony Wake cowers in the corner of a room, a large man standing over him with a belt in his hand.
The vision ends quickly, but the room was set up just like the ones from my other visions — two buckets, a bed and not much else.
‘Are you okay?’ Wake asks.
‘Yes, sorry. It’s just…you look a little like my brother.’
‘Really?’
I nod.
‘I’m sorry again…for your loss.’ He gives me a sympathetic smile.
Once Wake has closed the door and we’re onto the nature strip Lily says: ‘You were quiet, Shaw.’
He shrugs. ‘The guy doesn’t remember anything. Figured that put the ball in your court not mine.’
Shaw’s right; Wake’s lack of memory meant the discussion was more about psychology than standard police procedures.
Shaw unlocks his car and looks at me. ‘Guess I’ll be seeing you around, Sophie.’
I smile. ‘Probably. And thanks for letting me sit in.’
Shaw gives me a nod before turning to Lily. ‘Keep me in the loop with the hypnosis session. I’d like to sit in, if possible.’
She nods. ‘Okay.’
Within less than fifteen seconds Shaw and xx are across the road and in their car, while Darren, Lily and me are still standing out the front of Wake’s house.
Lily turns to me. ‘You know I can’t get you close to the session, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, I know. But you’ll tell me if he remembers anything important?’
‘I’ll give you as many details as I can.’
I nod. ‘Thanks again, Lily. You don’t know how much this means to me. How much you’re helping me.’
She smiles. ‘No, but I can have a good guess.’ She turns to Darren. ‘Nice meeting you.’
‘You too.’ They shake hands and Lily gets into her car, leaving us to cross the road.
Lily’s U-turned and driving past us by the time we’re buckled.
‘So, what did you see?’ Darren asks.
‘How did you know?’
‘Your eyes kinda went blank for a second. I’ve seen you do it before.’
‘Oh.’ I start the car. ‘Wake was about to get a beating.’ I pause, taking a deep breath. ‘He was in a small room and it was set up like the others.’ I bite my lip. ‘And he was in his underwear.’
Darren winces. ‘So they are linked.’
‘If my visions are anything to go by they must be. I think our guy went from Australia to New Zealand and then…I don’t know because we’ve still got the gap between Anthony Wake in 1982 and the first missing person that matches back here in 2008.’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t know if we’re any closer, even with Wake.’
‘We’ll have to wait and see how the hypnosis goes. Hopefully the shrink Lily has in mind can find something in Wake’s mind.’
I nod. ‘I hope so.’ I glance up at Wake’s house and notice him at the window. ‘He’s there.’
Darren follows my gaze. ‘The poor guy probably doesn’t want to remember. I wouldn’t.’
I ease out of the street. ‘Me neither.’
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