Page 18 of The Vanishing Place

Effie stood in the doorway and watched the child sleep.

It hurt to watch her, like looking back in time.

Anya had pulled the covers from the single bed and arranged them on the floor.

She was coiled up in the corner with a wall of pillows around her, safe in her alcove.

Next to the bedding, the child had set out two pots of herbs taken from June’s kitchen.

Mint . It was a smell that lived inside Effie, the cool fresh scent blended with memories of Mum and the Before years.

“Come on.” June motioned to Effie. “Let’s have some tea.”

Effie followed her through to the living room, where Lewis was waiting, and she sat in the chair farthest from him. If she got too close, she couldn’t think.

“She’s still sleeping?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Effie gave a half smile. “She’s exhausted.”

After the incident with the TV, Effie had carried Anya through to her bed. But when Effie had gone to check on her half an hour later, she’d been on the floor.

“Sorry,” said Lewis, looking at June. “About the TV.”

He nodded at the monitor, which lay on the carpet with a cracked screen. The offending plant pot, also smashed, had been tidied up and binned.

“I can get you another one.”

“Don’t be daft,” said June. “I never really liked it anyway.”

Effie dug her fingers into the chair. “What do you think happened to her?” She glanced at Lewis. “Out there.”

He sighed. “We just don’t know. No one’s seen anything suspicious, and there’s been nothing to—”

“No.” Effie stopped him. “What do you think happened?”

“I don’t—”

“Please.” She didn’t look away.

They stared at each other, neither conceding, and Lewis ran a hand through his hair. No ring . Then he lowered his arm, his eyes boring into her.

“There have been a couple of reports from climbers,” he said, “out in Moeraki Valley.”

Effie frowned. Moeraki Valley was north of the hut, over the Thomas Range and another ten kilometers through tough terrain. Very few people made it out that way, just the occasional keen climber or backcountry tramper.

“Apparently food and some bits of equipment have been going missing from Horseshoe Flat and Middle Head Hut.”

“When?”

“The last couple of months,” said Lewis. “Since the summer season opened up.”

“So no one’s out there over winter and spring?”

“It would be very unlikely.” Lewis frowned. “The creeks get too flooded to cross.”

He rubbed his face, his fingers catching on his lips, and Effie gripped the chair.

“Apparently,” he continued, “there have been sightings of a man. Nothing up close. Nothing definite.”

Lewis looked at her—seeing too much—and Effie’s chest ached.

“One climber mentioned red hair,” he said.

“Dad?” she whispered.

“It’s just speculation,” said Lewis.

“But you think he’s still alive?” She glanced back toward the bedroom. “And that Anya…that she could be his?” She struggled to swallow. “That Dad could have—”

“No.” Lewis shook his head. “I imagine Anya’s dad is some tramper who stumbled across the hut over the years. A hunter heading into the backcountry, perhaps.”

“But she’s got Dad’s red hair,” said Effie, “and his eyes. My eyes.”

“Tia could have passed on your dad’s genes too.”

“So you think Tia’s her mum?”

“It would make sense,” said Lewis. “But in all honesty, we can’t be certain.”

“Just certain enough to lie to Oranga Tamariki?”

“Come on, Effie. You know it was the right thing to do.”

She didn’t answer.

“Have you heard anything from Tia?” she asked.

Lewis shook his head. “Not since you left.”

“And Four?”

He shook his head again. “I’m sorry, Effie. Since your dad last took you and the kids bush, no one’s heard anything. No one outside of this room knows what happened that day.”

Effie closed her eyes and she was right back there—to that day—and she was running at him. Dad . Effie hurled herself into his body, pulling at his arms and thumping at his torso, but it was too late. Dad’s mind was already lost to that dark faraway place.

Run, please. Run .

Effie was always too late.

“No one else knows that you escaped,” said Lewis. “That you left New Zealand.”

“I need to go back,” she said. “I need to know what happened to them.”

Lewis leaned forward, closing the gap. Doing exactly what Effie knew he would. From the day that she met him on the beach, her five-year-old legs jelly as the sea tried to suck her backward, Lewis had been trying to save her.

“I can put in a call to Franz tomorrow,” he said. “There’s another sole-charge officer up there who can—”

“No,” Effie interrupted. “I need to go alone.”

“What?” Lewis looked at her. “You can’t be serious.”

“Isn’t that why I’m here?” She held his gaze. “Cos I’m the only one who knows how to get there?”

“Yes. But with me.” Lewis stood up. “So you can go there with me.”

“No.”

“No?” He moved toward her, both of them standing now, his face close enough to touch. “You do realize that I’m in charge of this investigation. That this is my case.”

Effie took a breath. “But there isn’t a case anymore.”

His brows raised. “Excuse me?”

“This morning you had a missing girl.” She forced herself to stand still, to quiet the swell in her stomach. “But she’s not missing anymore, is she? She’s with family.” Heat pulsed through her chest. “She’s with me.”

Lewis gawked at her. “You’ve got to be kidding. God.” He ran his hands through his hair. “You haven’t changed. You’re just as stubborn as—”

“You said it yourself.” Effie put her arm out, stopping June from intervening. “So long as the girl’s with family, there’s nothing for Oranga Tamariki to—”

“She was covered in blood, Effie. Jesus. And she has marks on her ankles. There’s no way that kid hasn’t been—”

“But there’s no proof. No proof of an actual crime.” She swallowed. “Not yet.”

“So take me with you. Let’s find proof. Let me help you.”

Lewis was close enough that she could feel the heat from him. Standing there, his gaze set on her, Effie was suddenly that five-year-old again—a scrawny redheaded girl being rescued from the waves by an eight-year-old boy.

“I can’t,” she said. “You know I can’t.”

“That’s bullshit.” Anger spiked Lewis’s voice. “That’s childish bullshit. This isn’t some bush game, Effie. God knows what happened out there. I can’t let you just march off without any—”

“I know how to take care of myself.”

A fire rose in her, her body hurting in a way that it shouldn’t.

You’d have to ask his wife .

“And I don’t need your permission,” she snapped.

He walked across the room, then turned back. “It’s my job to go out there. It’s not up to you this time, Effie. This is not your decision.” Something flashed across his face—hurt, regret—then it vanished. “What you’re doing is impeding an—”

“Then cuff me.” Effie held her hands out. “Arrest me, or let me go alone.”

The look that Lewis gave her cut her in two, and Effie bit into her tongue to stop herself from flinching, from reaching for him.

Lewis didn’t say anything, which hurt more somehow. He simply walked out, closing the door behind him, and Effie watched through the window as he got into his ute. It took her a moment to realize that her arms were still hung there, suspended in front of her.

“Well now,” said June, “the two of you handled that very well.”

Effie turned, disorientated, as June collected plates and mugs from the coffee table.

“Do you think I’m wrong?” she asked.

“I think,” replied June, balancing a tower of china, “that it’s possible to be both wrong and right at the same time.”

“I can’t take him out there.” Effie scratched at her wrists. “I’ve never taken anyone out there.”

The hut was a special place just for them, Dad said. A secret .

“What I do know,” said June, “is that boy cares for you very much.”

Effie shook her head. “It’s been seventeen years, June.” She paused. “He doesn’t even know me.”

June just smiled. “If you say so, dear.” Then she walked out.

Lewis’s ute turned the corner and drove out of sight. When Effie turned back, June was standing in the doorway with a radio tucked under her arm.

“I’m off to bed,” she said.

Effie frowned. “With the radio?”

“The TV I can live without. But not my morning dose of Corin and Ingrid.”

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” asked Effie. “The kid.”

“One day at a time.” June smiled. “That’s all we can do.”

—

Effie rolled over in bed and checked the time on her phone.

Five . Almost.

The blue hour. She turned to the window, the curtain left open, and stared out at the inky sky.

Coming back had changed something in her.

It had blotted and smudged her memories; things that she once thought to be true—to be unquestionable—had blurred.

The smell of bush air and the warm salt breeze had made her memories harder to trust.

Effie unlocked her phone and swiped down to Blair’s name, then pressed the phone to her ear.

“You’re up early,” answered Blair.

“Jet lag.”

“Sure.” A kettle whistled somewhere behind Blair. “Absolutely nothing to do with the kid.”

Effie sat up. “Lewis thinks she’s Tia’s daughter.”

Effie could almost hear Blair frowning, adding it up. “But the girl’s dad…who would—”

“We don’t know.” Effie moved her tongue around her dry mouth. “It was only ever my family in the hut. But that might have changed.”

“So a niece,” said Blair.

“A niece.” Effie swallowed. “Maybe.”

She looked at the window, silent for a moment.

“How’s Rimu?” she asked eventually.

“Good.” Blair hesitated. “Good.” Hiding something.

“But?”

The kettle clicked off. “Greg came over to visit him yesterday. He brought some of those dentist chew things.”

Effie always forgot about the dog’s teeth.

“And Greg?”

“He’s okay. Sad in that quiet-man way.”

The line went silent for a few seconds.

“It’s just,” began Blair, “I was thinking about you and Greg, and maybe now with…” She trailed off. “He’s a good guy, Effie. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing for you to have some support.”

“I’m fine.”

Effie stared at the latch on the window. Her issues with commitment had never just been about Greg. Of course they hadn’t. Her stomach tensed and swirled despite herself, despite how ridiculous and childish it was. She and Lewis had just been kids. It had been a lifetime ago.

“How’s Anya?” asked Blair. Not pushing. Not prying.

Effie blinked Lewis’s face from behind her eyes. “I should probably go check on her.”

She threw back the covers, slipped on a pair of jeans and pulled on a jumper.

“Has she been sleeping?”

“Erratically,” said Effie. “Odd hours. And she’s made a bed on the floor.” She stepped into the hall. “Anyway, I should go. She’s not wild on people talking. I’ll call you later.”

“Love you.”

Effie walked to Anya’s door, slowly and quietly, not wanting to frighten her. As she inched the door open, she caught a flicker of movement in the corner of the room.

There was a faint tapping sound. Tap, tap, tap . But nothing else. Half of the room came into view, everything still in its place.

Effie pushed the door wide, and the light from the hall spilled across the carpet, a ribbon of white reaching from Effie to the bundle of covers.

She turned to the source of the tapping, where the wooden rod at the bottom of the blind rapped against the wall.

Effie stepped inside, slow and careful, and knelt by the girl’s sleeping area.

The bump of her beneath the duvet was impossibly small, a little living thing curled up into almost nothing.

Effie reached out, her heart racing as she touched her hand to the tiny mound of human. But her hand sunk to the floor.

The girl was gone.