Girl Missing (The Messenger Series) Chapter 11: Coroner's Report, a hardy boys/nancy drew fanfic

11 – CORONER'S REPORT

I'm home by late afternoon, hot, sweaty and in need of a shower. Nevertheless, I still have work to do. With Spock at my heels and my rucksack slung over my shoulder, I pause inside the front door.

'Dad?'

I hold my breath. There is no reply. I take a quick look in the lounge. Dad's not asleep in his recliner. I tiptoe to his study doorway and the door squeaks open.

'Dad?' I whisper.

The room is empty. With a quick look around just to be sure he's not casually walking out of the kitchen, I slip inside the study.

'You keep watch, okay?' I say, pointing to Spock.

Spock sits down and licks his lips, tail thumping on the floorboards, both eyes on me, none on the door. I sigh and carry on.

Round the desk I bend down to retrieve Holly's box of casework from its hiding place underneath, but my hand clutches at nothing. I bang my head in panic, searching. It's no longer there.

I stand up, panting hard. Could the new PI guy already have come to fetch it? Dad surely would have seen half of the contents were gone. Where is he now? Oh, boy, this is not good.

The only thing on show about the room is Farmer Ackerman's barn fire. I try the filing cabinet, but of course it's locked. Rattling it doesn't make it open either. Spock whines at me.

'You think I should?' I say to him. 'I mean it's not like I'm stealing anything. I'm putting things back.'

I wish Max was here to lend some advice but I haven't seen him since this morning. I'm out of options. I scrabble through the top drawer of Dad's desk and find a couple of paperclips. I bend them straight, end up breaking one and having to find another. I glance at the door. I'd expected to be in and out of here in just a couple of minutes. I have no idea where Dad is or when he's coming home. And with the front door just yards away, there'll be no place to hide if he suddenly walks in.

I shake my hands to get rid of the tremble my adrenalin is causing and insert the crooked sticks of metal into the cabinet lock. In my head I see the inside workings of the lock, my paperclips moving like insect antennae to find the right spot.

The lock clicks open and I shove the paperclips in my jeans pocket. The filing cabinet slides open with a squeak to reveal Holly's box of paperwork.

'Aha!' I say to Spock in triumph and he whuffs in reply.

Working fast I carefully replace all of the casework I'd borrowed from the box, now that I've photocopies of everything I think I need. Done! I'm about to close it when I see a hanging file pushed back by the box entitled 'FAMILY'.

I look up just to be sure Dad hasn't crept in without my noticing then plunge my hand forward to flick through the file. Most of it appears to be boring official things like birth certificates, insurance documents and passports, but then one paper catches my eye.

I pull it out. It is a psychiatric report referencing 'NOA DRURY'.

Curiosity overcoming my need for haste, I make myself more comfortable on the floor and start to read.

'With regard to the aforementioned nine-year-old juvenile, I have been unable to ascertain the source of her hallucinations. The child responds in a rational and coherent manner to the tests given, and shows no distemper, social aversion or tendency to harm herself or others. I therefore diagnose her symptoms as being nothing more than a very vivid imagination coupled with childish roleplay with imaginary friends.

Given the recent trauma experienced by Miss Drury, I suspect these scenarios are likely linked to her mother's death, and are simply a way of dealing with her grief.

My recommendation would be to allow the child freedom to inhabit these fantasies until such time that she might be considered old enough to have grown out of such childlike behavioural patterns, whereupon further evaluation should be sought…'

I snort. I remember the tests, looking at pictures of splodges and splashes and being asked what they looked like, the lady – presumably the psychiatrist – with the huge mole on her chin and severe blonde bob asking all sorts of questions while she played with the toy box.

'I didn't know it was for a psychiatric evaluation though,' I murmur.

It had all kicked off after my mother had died. Max had been visiting me for some time before then, but had become a much bigger part of my life after Mum's death. In hindsight, perhaps Mum had hidden my 'gift' from Dad – I know she had taken it seriously whereas he hadn't – but when she was gone, Dad was able to see it all for himself, and I was still too young to disguise it. That must have been what prompted the psych evaluation, although I'm sure at the time he'd told me it was something to do with school tests.

'Hmm, go figure,' I murmur to myself and slot the letter back into the file.

I wonder why he never sent me for another evaluation as recommended by the doctor. Obviously my 'hallucinations' had kept on happening. Perhaps he'd resigned himself to having a weird daughter, maybe he hadn't wanted her put in a loony bin, perhaps he now believed in her 'gift', so did that make him mad too?

I'm about to close the file when a letter jutting up makes me pause. My hand shakes as I draw it out. I know immediately what it is – my mother's coronary report. If Dad has lied to me all these years about the true cause of Mum's death – had she really committed suicide – surely this will set the record straight?

'Automobile accident,' I read aloud. 'Sudden impact-related injuries incurred to the head, chest, upper and lower abdomen.' I wince at the thought of such pain and trauma to one's body. How could anybody do that to themselves? I read on and my breath escapes as a relieved sigh. 'Death non-suspicious.'

This is the story I've always been fed, but when they say 'Death non-suspicious' does that only rule out the involvement of a third party? How can they know for sure that she didn't drive into that tree on purpose?

Tears well in my eyes at the thought and I brush them away. I slip the report back in the file and push the cabinet closed. The lock clicks and I never want to look inside again.

I take a moment to compose myself. I don't know why I don't totally believe the report, why I don't believe Dad, why I think Mum committed suicide – actually I do, it's to explain away the fact that she's never visited me. Never, even though I have this 'gift' that she was so fond of telling me I had to use. If she committed suicide it means she has no choice about visiting me… I think about it. It's meant to make me feel better, but it doesn't. It makes me feel just as depressed, if not more. What could have been so bad in her life that she had to kill herself? What was so bad that it meant more to her than loving me and Dad?

I can't think about it in here. I remember where I am, that Dad could come home any second, and I get to my feet. Spock thumps the floor with his tail.

'Good boy, let's get out of here.'

I glance at the corkboard wall on my way out. Pictures of Farmer Ackerman's barn charred timber and smouldering ashes. I see the images of the food cans, dented and blackened by the fire, the melted water bottles. I catch myself feeling sorry for him. What if he is telling the truth? What if he is hard up and his barn burnt down through no fault of his own? There are close-up shots of each of the cans – wow, someone was keen on rice pudding – but then there's one odd one that makes me pause. It shows a blackened metal necklace pendant in a complex Celtic knot type of design. Something about it is familiar.

Suddenly the front door slams shut and Dad's footsteps sound on the creaking floorboards.

I freeze for a moment then leap into action. I whip my phone out of my pocket and take a quick snap of the Celtic knot picture – I need to have a closer look at it – then I head for the door.

'Dad, is that you?' I say as casually as I can muster.

Dad appears in the doorway, looking surprised. 'Noa, what are you doing in here?'

I lean down to stroke Spock's head, to avoid meeting Dad's eyes. 'We've just arrived back ourselves. I was looking for you.'

Dad raises an eyebrow at me. 'You needed to go right into my office to know I wasn't in there?'

'No, of course not,' I say, thinking fast. 'I was just looking at your corkboard.'

Dad still looks sceptical, and he crosses his arms. 'Well, I hope you found it interesting. You really shouldn't be in here looking over confidential material.'

I give him a bored look. 'Like who am I going to tell?'

'I know, I know.' Dad relents, unfolds his arms and I notice the shopping bag he is holding. As he shifts, inside can be heard the clink of glass.

'Been shopping?' I ask.

Now it's Dad's turn to avoid my eyes. 'Just picked up a couple of essentials.'

I can't help the sneer that creeps over my face – the fact that he considers gin to be an 'essential', but I don't say anything. 'Yeah, well, I've got things to do. Come on, Spock.'

'As do I,' says Dad. He looks a little sheepish as I walk past him and through the house to my bedroom.

'Noa?' he calls after me. 'What say we grab a take-away tonight?'

I pause by my bedroom door. I may hate that he drinks, but sometimes I don't know that it's a choice he's really able to make. Sometimes it's difficult to understand. 'Sure,' I yell back.

That evening, I stand outside Dad's study and press my ear to the closed door. Inside Dad is talking to the new PI whom the Winslows' have hired. He's come to collect Dad's paperwork and I hold my breath as Dad hands it all over.

'You found any fresh leads?' I hear Dad ask.

'Nah.' The new PI's voice is gruff, slightly foreign sounding. 'They had a break-in last weekend, but it doesn't appear to be connected. Seems every way I turn things lead back to that boyfriend, Jonathan Kilpin.'

My heart skips a beat at the mention of our primary suspect.

'But his alibi is rock-solid,' the PI goes on and my heart sinks. 'I've checked it out with numerous sources.'

'Only until 6.30PM though, surely?' says Dad. 'He was helping someone move house, wasn't he?'

'Yeah. He claimed to go to the supermarket afterwards. I managed to get hold of their CCTV footage. He's there for a good half hour.'

I hear Dad exhale in frustration. 'By which time Holly would have already gone missing.'

'Yup. Her parents, or her mother, at least – Henry Winslow was in Germany as you know – expected her home by seven o'clock.'

Dad sucks his teeth and I can imagine him scratching his head, his brow furrowed with puzzlement and worry.

'The only other person I can think of who might have killd her is this farmer, Frank Ackerman,' he says.'

'Wait, what?' says the PI in surprise. 'You think she's dead, not a runaway?'

'You wouldn't believe me even if I told you,' he says finally.

'Try me.'

There's a pause and I wait in suspense for Dad's reply. Would he really admit to why he thinks Holly might be dead?

'Call it a hunch.'

'Who's this Ackerman fellow?' asks the PI.

I listen, maybe a little disappointed that Dad didn't come totally clean, as he briefs the PI on Farmer Ackerman's history.

'Were any remains found in the fire?' the PI asks.

'No. If he did kill her then he's stashed the body some place else.'

There's another pause and I can imagine the two of them deliberating over the clues together. Finally, there is the scuffing sound of movement and the scrape of a chair being pushed back.

'Well, I appreciate you filling me in,' says the PI. 'I won't take up any more of your time…'

I quickly sneak away before anyone sees me and head for my bedroom. My head is full of questions. If Jonathan Kilpin is innocent, then who is Holly's killer? Is there enough evidence to point to Farmer Ackerman? What motive could he possibly have for killing Holly? What about Dylan Quarry from Sharp Shooters? What is he hiding? Does Eyra have enough motive to kill her best friend? And lastly, are none of these people guilty – is Holly a suicide? And if so, where is her body?

Author's Note: Hi everyone, we're about halfway through Girl Missing. Thanks to everyone who have read this far and thanks especially to those who have shared their thoughts via review. Since we're at this milestone, I'd really like to hear from more of you – let me know if I'm on right track, what am I doing right, what am I doing wrong, what would you change/like to see happen? My thanks in advance.