Zara made eye contact with someone in the wings, and the image behind her dissolved. A video clip began playing instead. There was no sound, and it had clearly been shot on a phone. A younger, smiling Kim Gillespie silently sang—Happy birthday to you—as she held out a homemade cake. Sun filtered through the windows, and the candles on the cake flickered. Kim’s gaze moved slightly off-center as she locked eyes with the person filming, with the air of a private joke passing between her and whoever was behind the camera. Falk glanced over. From the expression on Charlie’s face, there was no question at all it had been him.
“This is my mum, Kim.” Zara was nervous, but her unchecked emotion only drew more eyes to the stage. “And I know some of you will have heard what happened here last year, but the facts—”
It was a more polished version of the speech she’d delivered at the vineyard stall, and Falk heard Raco sigh. A slideshow continued behind her, with photos and videos spanning several years. Purely from an appeal perspective it was better to use only recent photos, the cop part of Falk couldn’t help but think, but at the same time he could see why Zara had chosen them. They helped drive home that Kim Gillespie had been a real person, as urgent and vital as anyone watching, and Falk felt something shift in the mood of the crowd. Kim had walked among them—recently, here—living and breathing and probably also smelling the popcorn in the air and trying to avoid trampling on picnic blankets.
“My mum would never do this to her family—”
On-screen, Kim was laughing now, understated but bridal in a simple cream gown. Zara, then fourteen years old and in flattering bridesmaid pink, was at her side, eating cake and trying to pretend she wasn’t thoroughly enjoying herself. Rohan was wearing the traditional smart suit and had the happy, slightly stunned smile favored by grooms everywhere as he held Kim’s hand.
Another scene from the wedding followed, of Kim with her arms around an older couple who were clearly her parents. They lived in Canada, Falk remembered now, but had rushed over last year after it had happened. He ran his eyes quickly over the crowd of supporters. No return trip for the anniversary, he guessed. Some experiences were not ones anyone wanted to relive.
“Someone here tonight knows something—”
Zara was gathering momentum as the image behind her faded and resolved. Kim at the vineyard this time, laughing with Rita, their heads close. Falk felt Raco breathe out sharply.
“Where did she get that?” Raco muttered even as the picture changed again.
Kim at the finish line of a ten-kilometer charity fun run. Flushed but pleased, she raised a celebratory cup of water to her fellow runner, who herself appeared to have barely broken a sweat, her blond hair pulled high in a ponytail.
Falk turned in time to see Naomi Kerr caught completely off guard to find herself up on the screen. Maybe Zara hadn’t felt she needed permission to use photos of her own mother, but she clearly hadn’t sought it from Naomi. The woman stared glassy-eyed at the picture until it disappeared.
“I want to finish with a message for my mum,” Zara said as behind her now Kim was holding a baby. It was Zoe, judging by Kim’s age. The baby in her arms looked brand-new; Kim herself looked exhausted. An unconvincing smile was plastered across her face.
“If you hear this and if you can come home, Mum, please come home.” Zara paused. “And if you can’t, I want you to know we’re all working to find you. Okay? That’s it, I guess. Thank you.”
The awkward smattering of applause morphed into a rumbling murmur as she lowered the microphone and passed it to Rohan. Falk wasn’t surprised. People were always interested in the husband.
If Rohan noticed, and Falk couldn’t imagine he’d missed it, he didn’t react.
“Thanks, Zara,” he said simply, and he took her place as the screen changed back to the standard missing person photo. No emotive montage for Rohan. It was the right decision, Falk thought. What had seemed moving and heartfelt from Zara could have easily come across as manipulative from Rohan. Instead, the man’s wife simply gazed out. Have you seen me?
“I sometimes feel like I got to meet my wife for the first time twice.” Rohan launched straight into it. “The second time was on a Sunday afternoon on Glenelg Beach. I was going for a run along the sand, and Kim was there, in the sea with her daughter, Zara.” It felt like a moment where Rohan might have naturally paused to remember, had he been telling this story to friends. But he was not, and this crowd—while not hostile—was certainly keeping their acquaintanceship at arm’s length, for now. He carried on.
“I’d known Kim for a lot of years. We were at school together—that’s where I met her for the first time—and we were friends then, part of the same big group.”
Charlie didn’t react to that, his arms folded and chin tucked down into his chest, but Falk saw Shane nodding.
“Kim and I went our separate ways after school, with uni and first jobs and things,” Rohan continued, “until that afternoon on the beach when I saw her again. And I knew straightaway it was Kim because she had this way about her that drew you in. It’s hard to describe, but everyone who remembers her knows what I mean.”
Charlie reacted that time: a tight instinctive dip of his head in agreement.
“So Kim was standing knee-deep in the sea,” Rohan said. “And I stopped running and probably said something smooth and witty like: ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’”
A light but genuine laugh flitted through the crowd. It was smart of Rohan to humanize himself, Falk thought. Calculated or not, for an appeal to work, people needed to care.
“And Kim probably said something genuinely smooth and witty back. I wish I could remember what, because it worked, and that was it for us. We were together for three years, we have a daughter who’s just turned one—”
Raco leaned in, his eyes still on Rohan. “I tested that gap in his night myself. In case you were wondering.”
Falk smiled. He had in fact been wondering exactly that. “The eight minutes?”
“Yep,” Raco said. “It was only six, actually. Sergeant Dwyer checked it out, too, I know. But I walked it myself, anyway. Once with Zara. A couple of times on my own.”
“To put her mind at rest or—？”
“Pretty much. And mine, I suppose. Just in case. I mean, I like Rohan. So I’m not saying anything by this, but—” He shrugged. “Spouses, statistically, you know? Gotta check ’em. You can’t not check them.”
“No. Obviously. How long did the walk take you?”
“Seven minutes thirty, at a steady pace. I did it in the high sixes a couple of times. So no detour. If anything, he hustled.”
“Couldn’t have gotten back here?”
“To the grounds? No way. Not possible. So that was—” Raco sighed. “—a relief, I suppose.”
Falk watched Rohan on the stage. His wife’s face still loomed large behind him. “Does he know?”
“That I checked him out? I doubt it. Not specifically. But he was obviously questioned at the time, so he’d know Dwyer would’ve. I think he sort of welcomes it, though. You’d have to feel a bit guilty for leaving Kim alone, don’t you reckon?” Raco paused. “Plus, he’s not an idiot. He knows he’s bloody lucky it’s only six minutes and not more.”