Vanished by James Delargy (free novel 24 TXT) 📕

female lawyer, now standing beside her client in a show of support.

‘No,’ said Emmaline, ‘but it is often an indication of wrongdoing.’

‘I have a lot on my mind.’

‘Like the disappearance of Naiyana Maguire?’

‘Like all of this,’ he said, his legs giving out and landing in his comfy office chair.

‘So what really happened at this meeting on the thirtieth, Mr Grant?’

‘I remind you that you don’t—’ offered his female lawyer.

‘Just shut up will you,’ shouted Chester Grant. ‘I’m not guilty. I’m just going to tell them what I know.’ He took a deep breath. ‘We met once. In Wisbech.’

‘When?’

‘The thirtieth. We’ve been over this.’

‘Let’s go over it again.’

He sighed. ‘We met, I asked her to help out Brightside with the photoshoot and she told me what she knew. It was a quick meeting. A few minutes. She kept glancing out the window as if she was in a hurry to get away.’

The story remained the same. There was something about the desperation in his voice that made Emmaline believe him. As if he had too many other lies to cover up to lie about this too.

Emmaline also had an inkling why Naiyana wanted to get away in a hurry. ‘Did you see anyone else nearby?’

Chester winced a little. ‘There was a guy hanging around outside. Leaning on his truck and staring in the window.’

‘Waiting for Naiyana Maguire?’

‘No. I thought he was nosy. Or just passing time.’

Pulling out her phone she flashed him a picture of Ian Kinch. ‘Did he look like this?’

‘Maybe. I wasn’t paying attention. I had other things on my mind.’

‘Do you remember what the truck looked like? A number plate?’ asked Zhao.

‘That was more distinctive. One of the old Ford Falcons you don’t see much anymore. Rusted and not in great shape. A shame really. I remember because my grandad used to have one. He let us drive around his fields after harvest. It’s where I learned to drive as a boy.’

In relating the story, Chester had finally become animated, a smile returning to his face. That he couldn’t pick Ian Kinch out of a line-up wasn’t helpful but at least the description of the truck matched what they had been expecting. It was the same type of Ford that had crashed with Mike Andrews and Stevie Amaranga inside. But in the end it only amounted to circumstantial evidence based on a witness statement from a few weeks ago. And given the latest events, not a very reliable witness.

After a few more questions, she left Chester Grant to clean up his mess. He had a lot of work to do.

The circumstantial evidence of the miners’ ute being in Wisbech on the thirtieth led Emmaline to another theory. Naiyana Maguire and Ian Kinch had been in the same town on the same day. And if they were having a seedy affair, where best to continue it but at a seedy motel. She put Rispoli, Barker, Anand and whoever Zhao could rustle up onto it while she made her way back out east.

108

Naiyana

She broke off the hug. The dry air began to steal all moisture, giving her a prickly feeling that made her antsy, like maggots had already infested the recently deceased bodies and were now crawling all over her own skin. Assuming she would be next.

‘I have to check on Dylan. On Lorcan.’

Ian stared at her. She could see that he was weighing up the new set of circumstances.

He shook his head. ‘We have to move these first. Get them away from here.’

‘But what if Lorcan and Dylan heard?’ she countered.

‘If they had they would be out here by now.’

‘Unless they were terrified.’

‘Good. We need them indoors. While we get rid of these bodies.’

Naiyana glanced in the direction of their house. She wanted to go and make sure Dylan was safe. Mike had claimed that Lorcan shot Stevie. Did he then go and shoot Dylan? The maggots that were crawling over her face now crawled down her body, her skin clammy and itchy.

‘Nee!’ Ian’s voice was insistent. ‘We have to do this.’

Backing his ute to the edge of the road, he carried Mike’s upper torso while she struggled with his thick legs. Though she was facing the body she tried to look anywhere but at it, whimpering as she caught glimpses of the damage, one eyeball and socket caved in with the force of the bullet, the blood rapidly drying in the sun.

After he was loaded onto the flatbed, she wiped her hands on her dress, the essence of death rather than blood clinging to them.

Stevie was easier, about sixty pounds lighter. Again she refused to look at the fatal wound, the still-wet blood helping ease the slide onto the back of the ute. The friends reunited.

She wiped her hands frantically. Two dead bodies. One executed right in front of her. Ian had coldly and calmly shot a defenceless man. But wriggling amongst the stomach-curling disgust was an acceptance of what had to be done, as if some of Ian’s steadfast demeanour was rubbing off on her. Only an hour ago they had been fucking in his dirty ute, her head scraping the roof as she straddled him on the front seat. And now this.

‘We need to burn them,’ he said as he clipped the back of the flatbed up. She held her stomach as he said this. He continued. ‘It will remove the chance of ID-ing them quickly and break any DNA link we have to their bodies.’

‘In the tunnel?’

‘No. The smoke might only attract someone. We don’t want them discovered until we are long gone.’

‘We?’

Ian nodded. ‘It’s a “we” now.’

‘What about my husband? My son?’

‘Your boy won’t talk, but Lorcan?’

She studied Ian. What was he implying? That Lorcan needed to be removed as well? She wondered if she could go that far.

‘I want to make sure that they’re okay,’ she said.

‘We need to get rid of these bodies, Nee.’

‘And we will. But I want to make sure my son is okay.’

She offered what