Times of Trouble (31 page)

She parked the car,
and scooped Charlie into her arms. Despite his tiredness from an
uncomfortable sleep, he seemed to be slightly better today. He was
still a bit hot, but he wasn’t crying as much, and his barking
cough wasn't as frequent. The steroids might have been working; she
needed to replace the ones she had left behind in the apartment.
She walked quickly across the car park, hating to be out in the
open, looking for the safety of the hospital’s front doors. She had
grown used to being aware of her surroundings, alert to sounds and
movement she ordinarily wouldn’t have noticed. And that was why she
turned to look at a car, two rows from where she had parked. A man
was sitting in the front seat, peering at the hospital entrance. As
she met his eyes, there was a moment of recognition. It couldn’t
be. Could it? Was she becoming too paranoid? The man looked exactly
like the one who had come to the door of her flat. She had glimpsed
him for only a moment through the spy hole in the front door before
she bolted out the back. But she had always been good with faces,
and she was sure it was the same man. The same blond mop of hair.
The same wide blue eyes. Had he followed her here? She’d have to
ditch the car. She couldn’t risk being wrong.

She ducked behind a
large four wheel drive and then started to run, crouched low, along
the row of cars. Between them, she could just see his car door had
opened and he was getting out, stretching his neck to see where she
had disappeared to. Now she was sure. It really was him. How the
hell was she going to run from him here? With Charlie in her arms?
The hospital entrance was still 100 metres away. She got to the end
of the row. She could either sprint towards the doors of the
hospital, out in the open where he could easily chase her, or stay
hidden behind a car. Charlie seemed to sense her panic, and wasn’t
making a sound. She craned her head around the car, trying to
decide her next move. Suddenly, the man and his car were obscured
by another vehicle, which pulled up just in front of it. To her
amazement and relief, it was a police car. She never expected to
feel relieved at seeing police! This was just the diversion she
needed. She bolted towards the entrance. She was going to keep her
appointment. But then she was going to get out of Sydney, once and
for all. She had no idea why the police were after this man, but it
had to be good news. Didn’t it?

Chapter 27

When I got up the
next morning, Andy was gone, so I had the apartment to myself. And
sometime during a quick shower and breakfast, a question formed in
my mind that had eluded me during the fuzzy midnight hours. It was
too much of a coincidence that Bill Holland had been in close
contact with someone who had been in London until recently, and
then been in Sydney ever since. What if Bill Holland hadn't been
seen in London in weeks because he was actually in Sydney as well,
chasing Sophie? He had been unaccountably missing from work for a
couple of months. He hadn’t used his phone for about the same
amount of time. That would mean he might have disappeared sometime
between the murders of Danny and Katie. So was he missing by choice
or had something happened to him? Surely if he hadn't been seen in
weeks, and his employees don't know where he was, someone would
have reported him missing? Was there some way to find out if he was
on a missing persons list?

As I opened Liam’s
laptop, I wondered if he had felt pretty stupid getting back to
Newtown and realising he didn’t have his things with him. Maybe he
could wear his friend’s clothes, but he’d left all his toiletries
and his laptop here. I tried not to think about him too much
because he was so aggravating. His laptop was useful though, even
more useful than him at the moment. The easiest way to find out if
Bill Holland was missing was to call the police in London. But now
I knew they were looking for Sophie, I'd have to avoid that avenue.
So, instead, I'd have to rely on the internet to help me. The
search for ‘missing people UK’ came up with quite a few useless
references, but there was one website down the list that looked
like it might be useful: www.missingpeople.org.uk.

The website looked
quite professional. It explained that it was linked to a successful
TV show, ‘Missing Live’, on the BBC. But as I searched around the
site, reading their information about contacting them and
requesting information, I found I didn’t know enough about Bill
Holland, not his address, date of birth, his parents’ names or even
if he was single, married, had children or anything. This could be
a problem. Looking at other similar sites didn’t help. Most
directed people to the police. Not helpful. However, they all
seemed to have a page where you could contact representatives with
information about a missing person, or questions about someone you
are looking for. Maybe that was worth a try.

I was filling in my
sixth query, wondering if this was a useless exercise, when my
phone rang. It was Liam. What now?

‘
Hi Liam.’ I tried to
sound cheerful as I answered the phone, hoping to find him in a
better mood.

But this wasn’t the
case. He was so angry I could feel the rage through the phone as he
spat, ‘What the fuck have you been doing with my
laptop?’

Oh dear. ‘What do you
mean? I’ve been doing some investigating on the
internet...’

‘
Have you been
emailing people? Using my address? Sending threatening emails?’ His
voice was high pitched, an accusing barrage of questions spewing
out.

‘
Are you talking
about the email I sent to Matthew Harrison-Brown?’ I kept my voice
steady. The calmer I sounded, the less guilty I would
seem...

‘
Who the hell is
that? The police took me in for questioning for fuck’s
sake!’

‘
Questioning? What
for? Sending an email?’

‘
They thought I had
something to do with some blackmail bullshit. I had no clue what
they were talking about. But you’ve no idea what you’ve done,
Ellen. I missed Sophie because of all this!’

‘
What do you mean you
missed her?’

‘
I saw her, this
morning, at the hospital. She was crossing the other side of the
car park. She had Charlie with her. But the police were trying to
talk to me just when I spotted her. I tried to run and find her,
but they got really pissed off, and almost handcuffed me. I had to
go with them to the station.’

‘
Shit! Shit shit
shit! You can’t be serious! I can explain to them it was me...’ I
offered, knowing I didn’t want to. The last thing I needed was the
police talking to me about the email. But then the reality of what
he had said forced its way into my consciousness. We had missed
Sophie again!

‘
Oh Liam, I’m so
sorry…’

But Liam wasn’t
listening. He was too upset. ‘It was my one chance Ellen, I waited
all that time and now she’s gone.’

Liam sounded bitter
and angry, but also really distressed. Before I was able to work
out what to say, or to apologise again, he hung up. I didn’t blame
him. It wasn’t the moment to point out that it wasn’t his one
chance, it was his second. What chance was there of finding her a
third time? I felt terrible. If it was Liam's fault we missed
Sophie at the apartment, it was definitely my mistake this time.
The email had been a stupid thing to do. Liam had every right to be
angry. I wondered if I would ever hear from him again. Would he
still want to keep looking for Sophie, now that we had made two
disastrous attempts to catch up to her? The way he said ‘she’s
gone’ sounded like he was completely devastated. Like all hope was
lost. It was the way someone would respond to hearing their
relative or best friend was lost, not the daughter of a
client.

As the news started
to really sink in, it suddenly occurred to me that Sophie would
always run from Liam. She had no idea who he was, and she was
terrified of strangers who were trying to kill her. I should have
been there. She would have known she was safe if she had seen me. I
felt like burying myself in my bed, and not getting up again. Liam
was right, the search for Sophie was more important than my
investigations into who might be trying to hurt her. I thought I
was in control, but I wasn’t. I thought I was getting good at
probing into people’s lives, but I’d stuffed it. And I had no idea
what to do next.

As if answering my
thoughts, my phone rang. It was mum. I felt guilty as I said hello.
I had been putting off speaking to her, because I hated to hear the
lift of hope in her voice when she heard it was me. It was as if
she inhaled, ready to hear we’d found her, and then plunged back
into the depths of despair when I said we hadn’t. But now I was
down there with her, so it couldn’t make me feel any worse to
deliver the bad news about the latest sighting. I explained to her
what had happened that day, and as disappointed as she sounded, she
tried to make me feel better.

‘
The bright side is
that we know she is still ok, and she is still looking after
Charlie.’

‘
Yeah, I guess we
should be pleased about that,’ I conceded.

Mum suddenly went
silent, and I thought for a moment the call had dropped
out.

'Mum, are you there?'
I asked.

'There's something I
need to tell you. That's why I called.' Her voice sounded strange,
like she was unsure whether she should still be talking, but was
forcing herself to.

'What is it?' I
asked, impatient at how long it was taking her to speak.

'I got another email.
From Sophie.'

‘
What? 'When? Did she
say where she was?' Mum's sigh told me all I needed to know. It was
another useless message. 'Read it to me,' I ordered, ignoring any
obligation to be polite to my mother.

'It was sent early
this morning, but I only got it just now.'

'What does it say
mum?'

“
They are going to
kill you if you keep looking for them. Just leave me. I don't want
anything to happen to you. They are more dangerous than you
think”.

How does Sophie know
what I'm doing?

Mum sounded panicked
now, reading the email aloud seemed to cement its meaning for
her.

'Sophie knows you are
in danger. You have to come home. Please Ellen. No more phone calls
and emails.' Mum was begging now. She sounded like she was at the
end of her tether.

'How do you know she
sent it?' I asked.

'It's from the same
address as the last one...actually, not exactly the same, but
almost. [email protected]. There's an extra five. If the address
was shut down like you said it was...'

'She might have
opened a new one. Ok. I've got to go. Can you please forward that
email to my Yahoo account? I'm not coming home without Sophie.' I
hung up. Mum wouldn't call back; she would be too upset to
argue.

How could Sophie warn
me off like that! Why wouldn't she just tell me where she was! Just
because she didn't want me looking for the people who were after
her, didn't mean I had to stop looking for her.

I felt all alone, and
finding out Sophie didn't want me looking for her just made me feel
worse. I started to cry, and my tears quickly turned into sobs as I
thought about how close we had come to having Sophie back with us.
I loved mum for trying not to sound disappointed at hearing how I
had stuffed up the search. She sounded petrified about the email.
As if it was a sign something was going to happen to me. She had
spent thousands of dollars on the search, and had no more to spend.
Picasso’s funds weren’t going to pay the mortgage for long. And
Sophie was still out there, hunted by faceless, murderous thugs,
who were looking for me now too.

As my mind tried to
grab onto something other than failure and fear, it found leverage
on Bill Holland. There was no way I was giving up on finding these
people, no matter what Sophie wanted. Bill Holland had to be
involved, whether he was a victim or a suspect. I blew my nose and
tried to focus. I had got nowhere in my roundabout attempts to find
out if Bill was really missing. Direct action would make me feel
better. It was time for more phone calls. I hadn’t got much
information from Lucy at his club, so I would give her another
call. This time I used my mobile phone, with its new-found private
number setting.

The club phone rang
for longer than last time, and just as I was starting to wonder if
they were open late every night of the week, a woman picked up. It
wasn’t Lucy. The background noise was the same, but this person had
a deeper voice; she sounded older, and spoke slower.

‘
Cosmo
Club.’

‘
Hi, is that Lucy?’ I
asked, knowing it wasn’t, but trying to suggest a sense of
familiarity.

‘
No, Lucy’s not in
tonight, this is Linda.’ Linda didn’t speak with the same sense of
urgency I had detected in Lucy’s voice. Maybe a phone call in the
office was a welcome break from working behind the bar.

‘
Hi Linda, I’m a
friend of Bill’s, and I am wondering if he’s been in lately. I
can’t get onto him on his mobile, and he’s not answering his home
phone.’ Linda laughed, not showing any of the concern Lucy had when
I asked about Bill’s whereabouts.

‘
You’re not the first
girl I’ve spoken to who’s looking for him tonight,
love.’