Inside her apartment, door locked, she leaned back against it and closed her eyes. The quiet and darkness drained some of the tension away, soothing raw emotions and calming the jumble of thoughts. Ellie slipped out of her shoes and sighed as the tiles cooled her feet.
When she opened her eyes, all the curtains were drawn, blocking out the stunning view to the Yarra River on one side, and all the way to Port Phillip Bay on another. Who closed it? She hadn’t. Dennis must have, or…
“Dad?” It was a rasp, so dry was her throat. Nobody answered.
Ellie peered into the fridge. It was empty, apart from two unopened bottles of French champagne and half a bottle of white wine. The latter she took out. She didn’t like champagne and never kept it here, so what had Dennis been doing? Four weeks away in London. Just one month and everything had changed.
Their king-sized bed was stripped bare. She sat on the end and poured wine into the glass she’d collected on the way. The door to the walk-in robe was open. Dennis hadn’t quite moved out. There were some shoes, suits, and a bag tucked in the corner.
She grimaced at the stale taste of the wine. Probably the same bottle she’d opened the night before leaving for London. They’d argued. Disagreed was a better description, not the full-on fights from her childhood, with Dad and Gabi yelling at each other from across a room and doors slamming until she’d hide in the library, losing herself amongst the books her parents collected.
No, she and Dennis were always civil. She’d asked him one last time to consider marriage counselling. Try to find a comfortable middle ground, at least. He couldn’t see why. To Dennis, keeping things to himself was second nature and sharing was something women did. “I’m not one of your girlfriends. That’s what you all do, isn’t it, complain to each other about your husbands?”
He’d obviously decided leaving a marriage was better than working on it. As bad as the wine was, Ellie finished the first glass and poured another. In the hallway between main and guest rooms she stopped to stare at photos on the wall. She lifted a hand and touched the smiling face of a handsome young man with long hair and a surfboard.
“Daddy’s missing. How do I tell you, Michael?”
She opened the door to the guest room. This was as she’d left it, bed made up and fresh towels folded on the end, ready for guests.
Too tired to do more than strip off her clothes, Ellie climbed into bed. She hugged her body until sleep dragged her into a world of bad dreams.
“You don’t look as though you slept at all, child.”
Campbell and Ellie sat at one side of a table in an interview room in the police station. The room was cold, and she shivered. “I’m alright, I promise. I’ll be better when we find Dad.”
“I wanted to warn you last night…about the detective looking after this.”
“Warn me?”
The door opened and they both looked up as an immaculately dressed man entered. He sat on the opposite side of the table, shook Campbell’s hand, and only then made eye contact with Ellie.
She took in his three-day growth and collar-length black hair with dismay. Those dark, dark eyes of his were unreadable.
Ben Rossi.
She slipped her hands under the table to grip each other.
His lips tightened for an instant before he glanced at Campbell. “Thanks for coming in.”
“Have you found him?” Ellie forced the words out.
“We have yet to establish this is a genuine missing person case.”
She pushed her chair back. “Then we are wasting our time here.”
Campbell placed his hand on her arm for a second. “Ellie, wait on. You wanted to speak to the police.”
“But, this won’t work…” She bit her lip. Dad was all that mattered. Ellie glared at Ben as she settled back in her seat.
He appeared unfazed by her reaction to seeing him. “When was your last contact with your father?”
“I am under suspicion? What are you doing to find him? All I know is from second-hand information and newspaper sensationalism.”
Campbell leaned forward. “Detective Rossi, we’ve had no contact with Jack for three days. A man like him doesn’t just disappear. He doesn’t miss appointments and is never late. Never.”
“No history of going off on his own? A short break with someone?”
“Someone who? His own wife doesn’t know where he is. And Dad wasn’t that kind of man.”
“What kind?”
Not the kind you think. Not a man who doesn’t care. Not a bad…father.
“Last time I saw Dad, we met at his house, in the library. I was leaving for London a few hours later and we had some last-minute papers to go over.”
“You met at his house, rather than the office?”
“We both have desks in the library. Why did you question Dennis?”
“As the last known contact, your husband was able to provide useful information. Gave me a starting point. Your father’s disappearance is unusual.”
“We were meant to meet at eleven today. To talk about my London business trip.”
“Meet where?”
“On the yacht.”
Ben stood. “Here’s my card. If you hear anything, think of anything, call.” He held out a business card and their fingertips touched. Ellie almost dropped the card, but now Campbell was shaking his hand and without another glance, Ben left.
“Are you okay?” Campbell was on his feet. “I thought it was him. And you’d never speak that way to a stranger.”
No. I wouldn’t be like that with a stranger.
4
Sea Angel
A few minutes before eleven, Ellie stepped onto Sea Angel, a sleek—if older—yacht. She glanced at her watch. He should be here, striding down the pier with his broad grin, or already on board with a limited-edition blue gin on ice. Just to take the edge off.
“Dad, are you here?”
She knew her breath was wasted, but still ran downstairs. It was the same as always. Water, beer, and wine in the fridge. A few frozen meals for emergencies. Beds in the two cabins made and clean towels in the tiny bathroom. Everything ready for a quick sail or overnight trip.
The yacht rocked gently beneath her feet as she made her way up, longing for the sun on her face. London in winter might be beautiful, but Melbourne summer was her favourite time of the year. Dad’s as well. She sank onto one of the plump seats at the stern.
This place was private, quiet, yet only moments from the city. Tucked away at the bottom of a dead-end road, even the locals left the pier alone. Large signs warning against trespass probably helped, but Ellie couldn’t remember this being anything other than a peaceful retreat.
Without Dad, what would she do? They’d been close forever and Gabi leaving so long ago brought them closer. If only he’d appear from below…her eyes turned to the steps and then she saw it.
Under the furthest seat was a pen. She got onto her knees and reached for it. Dad’s pen, the one she’d had designed and made for him for his sixtieth birthday. It was always in his hand or pocket.
Footsteps approached and she panicked, slipping the pen into her handbag. If the media had found her, they mustn’t see this. She grabbed her sunglasses and pushed them on.