Rohan had felt it, too, Falk could tell. The man had been listening to Zara with his head bowed, staring at a spot on the ground, but now he glanced up. The professional face had faded, and he simply looked disappointed. He ran his gaze lightly over the gathered group, sending several pairs of eyes skittering away, then took a small but distinct half step toward Zara. It barely closed any distance, but the instant effect was one of solidarity. He gave Zara a little nod of encouragement, and she looked relieved. Charlie, Falk noticed, looked like he wished he’d done the same, but the moment had passed. It was too late now, and he knew it.
“Yes. So,” Zara recovered her train of thought and her momentum, “what I’m saying is, my mum would never have left Zoe. Or me. She loved us, and she would hate to see what we’ve all been through this past year.”
A subtle movement at the back of the crowd caught Falk’s eye, and he tilted his head to see better. A lone teenage boy was standing a little apart from the group, his arms folded across his chest as he watched Zara speak. He had a flyer in one hand and was listening with a hint of a frown on his face.
Falk felt a faint stirring of recognition. He didn’t know the kid, though. He didn’t really know anyone here other than the Racos. The boy had close-cropped hair and looked about eighteen. He was all angles, with the lean coat-hanger look of a growing body trying to keep up with itself.
“I know what everyone believes happened.” A note of urgency had crept into Zara’s voice. “And actually, I can understand why. But my mum did not go down to the reservoir. Someone—a witness—who was working nearby all night has told police that she never went through the reservoir exit.”
The teenage boy barely reacted. He kept his gaze firmly on Zara as several heads turned his way, but everything about his stance morphed into something instantly defensive.
So that was him. Falk felt the pieces click together now. The one who’d been stuck out at the first-aid post near the back end of the site. Who’d given his statement and—Falk guessed from the mutinous look on his face—presumably stuck to it over the past twelve months.
“Something else happened to my mum that night,” Zara went on. “Either someone made her leave the festival, or her mental health was so bad that she agreed to go, or got tricked, or, I don’t know—”
Raco and Charlie exchanged another look. Zara caught it this time.
“But Mum should still be considered out there somewhere, until we know for certain otherwise.” Her words turned sharp. “So here are the things we need to know: the timeline of what she did that night—”
Falk glanced at Sergeant Dwyer. He was yet to meet a cop who enjoyed being told how to do their own job, but rather than seeming skeptical or annoyed, the officer’s face was determinedly neutral.
“—we need to know who she spoke to and when—”
As Falk watched, Dwyer’s head inclined in a near-imperceptible nod, almost to himself. That was interesting. Sergeant Dwyer had been on leave last year when Kim left her daughter in the stroller bay underneath the ferris wheel. Falk wasn’t sure he’d ever known exactly why Dwyer was away—some family reason, maybe?—but he did remember being surprised that the sergeant had been granted time off during what had to be one of the town’s busiest weeks. Whatever the reason, Sergeant Dwyer hadn’t been around to deal with what happened. Falk wondered if he felt the need to make up for that now.
“I miss my mum and I love her and—” Zara sighed. She suddenly sounded very tired. “And look, the fact is, someone knows something. That person might be here tonight. We need to find that person, so we can find Mum. So if everyone could please take some flyers, that would be great. Thank you.”
Sergeant Dwyer saw his opening and stepped in. “Thanks, Zara. Everyone, let’s make a move. Get yourselves into pairs, groups, whatever, and we’ll head out. See what we can get back.”
A buzz of chatter rose as loose groups formed and began to drift away, flyers in hands and varying degrees of enthusiasm on their faces. Falk looked over to Raco, who was still in the same spot, watching Zara as she shook the journalist’s hand.
“You want me to grab some flyers?” Falk said, and Raco nodded slowly.
“Thanks, we should, I suppose.”
Falk walked over to the nearest box, waiting his turn as other volunteers reached in. Nearby, he could hear Rohan being accosted by a couple of older men who were asking about his dad’s health.
“—thank you, yeah, so far he’s still ignoring pretty much everything the doctors want him to do,” Rohan was saying. “But Mum’s keeping him in line, lots of veggies, no booze. So, fingers crossed.”
Over by the stall, Falk could see the large, broad-shouldered employee had come out from behind the table and was now standing with Charlie. They had been joined by a petite blond woman who was wearing a crisp white shirt that opened low at the neckline and was tucked at her waist into dark skinny jeans. The three of them talked softly while pretending not to watch Zara as she thanked the reporter and photographer, then extracted herself neatly from the crowd and headed directly over to the teenage boy.
The boy straightened as she approached, and she reached up and they hugged briefly. Zara handed him some leaflets and said something Falk couldn’t hear but could guess from the body language.
Was that okay?
The boy nodded. Yeah. Good.
Neither smiled. Zara pointed somewhere toward the east of the festival site, and the boy gave a small shrug of agreement.
Falk reached the front of the line and grabbed a stack of paper from the box, then headed back to Raco, whom he could tell had also had his eye on Zara’s exchange.
“Here.” Falk passed him a handful of flyers.
“Thanks, mate,” Raco said, without glancing at them. “Listen—” He was still watching as Zara and the boy walked off together. “I reckon there are enough people covering the grounds. Let’s head down to the reservoir. See what we see.”
“Yeah, okay,” Falk said, a little surprised. He shuffled the flyers straight in his hands, looked once more at Kim’s face gazing out, and took half a step toward Raco. He angled his head, so Charlie and the others couldn’t see what he was saying, and lowered his voice. “Mate, is something about all this bothering you?”
Raco was still looking past him, his eyes following Zara as she and the boy weaved their way through the festivalgoers. “It’s bothering her.”
Not answering the question was sometimes the same as answering it, Falk thought, but he didn’t push it.
“All right.” He turned in time to see Zara disappear into the crowd, and nodded to Raco. “Then let’s go and take a look.”
5
“She reckons she’s spotted her mum a couple of times this past year,” Raco said to Falk as they headed deeper into the festival grounds. The meandering nature of the foot traffic made it difficult to lift their pace much beyond a leisurely stroll. The warm evening air was heavy with the aromas of deep-fried batter and cinnamon.
“Zara has?” Falk took a quick step to one side to dodge a small child on a scooter.
“Yeah.” Up ahead, Raco’s niece bobbed in and out of view as she and the boy moved through the crowd. “Every now and again she gets one of these false glimpses.”