CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Allison was at a loose end.

She had no idea what to do. No idea what she should be doing.

Her best friend and business partner was in jail, locked into the single cell available on Bright Island, awaiting Federal Police to arrive and whisk him away, and she was unsure if she was also going to be compelled to accompany them. Her nephew was almost beside himself with guilt, not talking to her after her blow up at him, and her custody of him had a giant question mark over it even though he had nowhere else to go- was she going to be allowed to keep looking after him, with the cloud of suspicion that would no doubt come settling down on her while Charlie was investigated? Her business was basically toast.

And, the worst thing of all… those poor kids.

Were they still alive? What had happened to them? She felt immense guilt and sadness for them, for their families, and she wanted to help, wanted to fix things and just make them right, but had absolutely no idea where to even start. So, in the absence of a concrete beginning, she went to where she perceived it had all started to unravel: the marina.

Allison wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for, and she wasn't even sure it even mattered. She just needed something to do, something to keep herself busy, so she didn't drive herself insane. Toby had packed himself off to a friend's house, and she couldn't stand being alone in the beach house; it was a place designed to be filled with people, having fun and adventures and getting to know each other. Just her rattling around made her feel very small and insignificant, something that she didn't like feeling at the best of time, let alone when she felt the weight on her shoulders to get involved and try and fix what had happened.

She made her way down the dock, glancing left to right at the familiar boats moored there. Most people didn't take their boats out regularly, so the chances of them having come across something, seen something that wasn't necessarily suspicious but food for thought if she prompted them, was pretty minimal. However, there were a couple of new moorings that piqued Allison's interest, and she noted the names of the vessels down to ask Jeff up at the front office about when she returned that way.

Right at the end of the dock was a large motor yacht that both looked familiar and didn't, and Allison couldn't quite put her finger on it. The name stirred something in the back of her brain, like she had seen it enough times before to remember it, but not so often she could entirely place it. She moved closer, to get a better look, see if someone was on board, when something glinted on the deck and caught her eye.

Allison glanced around, checking for any nosy observers, but the marina was empty and quiet, just herself and the gently bobbing seabirds for company. It was just not the done thing, to board someone's vessel without permission, but Allison was getting to the point of desperation, and there was something about the glinting that set a heavy weight of dread settling in stomach along with a faint whisper of hope. It was a strange, unsettling sensation, and the main reason why Allison clambered aboard the Grim Reefer and investigated.

Bending to pick the glinting thing up- a necklace, she realised as soon as she got on board- the strange mixed sensation rose to her chest, and she felt like an iron band had clamped around her ribcage.

"Amber," she said softly, holding the battered omega sign in her palm. There was no one else that necklace would belong to. Amber had been on that boat, Amber had lost her necklace on that boat. Was Amber still on board?

Feeling a surge of adrenaline, Allison rushed at the door that lead to the boat's interior, tried the handle with a desperate rattle, but it was locked. She knew none of the kids would be in the wheelhouse, but she scrambled up the steps to the next deck, and then up the final flight anyway, searching desperately for anything at all- signs of the other kids, clues to the owners of the boat, information that she could use. But there was nothing.

Allison left the boat in a rush, almost tripping over as she leapt from the stern onto the dock and didn't break stride as she took off at a run up the long dock towards the main gate and the office, the necklace clutched in her hand. As she ran, Allison vaguely thought she should have left the necklace where she had discovered it, as evidence, or at least worn gloves or something before she picked it up; having her fingerprints on it and suddenly it appearing with no one to corroborate her story of discovering it, wasn't exactly helpful in exonerating her from any knowledge about what Charlie had been up to, but at that point all Allison cared about was the fact that this was the first sign of the teenagers she had, and she seized it like it was a lifebuoy.

"Jeff!" Allison started shouting before she even reached the office. "Jeff!"

The thin, balding older man stuck his head out of his little window, frowning at her. "What's all that racket about?"

"Who owns that boat? Who docked it?" She pointed down to the very end of the marina, at the Grim Reefer. "When did it get here?"

Jeff squinted in the direction and then, to Allison's horror, shrugged. "Dunno. Was here when I got in this morning. Must have come in early."

"Well who owns that mooring?"

"Spare."

"Jeff-" Allison took a deep breath, knowing that getting all frustrated at him wasn't going to help, and equally that she wasn't doing a good job at explaining why the information was so important to her. "I need to know who got off that boat. It's really important."

Looking at her face, realisation dawned on his. "This about them kids, eh?"

"How many other things do you think I'm involved in?" Allison said, then quickly added, "Not that I'm involved in this." She sighed, deciding it was just better to shut up.

"Didn't think for a second you were, love."

Jeff immediately disappeared. She could hear him shuffling about, and then the door to the office opened, and she rushed inside.

"Now," Jeff said as he settled himself in a high backed swivel chair set in front of several monitors. "These fellas," he continued, gesturing at the CCTV system, "is more for show and insurance than actual use since we don't have crime on Bright. Well… We don't usually. So footage ain't gonna be great if that mob got in when it was dark."

"That's hardly helpful, Jeff- wouldn't most crime happen in the dark?"

He shrugged. "What crime? I told ya- it's just for appearance. We don't do crime on Bright- hence the one cell in the station that ya mate is taking up, and why our lovely constable Rob spends most of his time fishing."

"Fair point." Allison didn't want to keep debating the criminal statistics of their island home, so she waved at the monitors. "Can we scroll back through this morning until we see them arrive?"

"Yes we can, love. Gimme two secs."

Jeff scrubbed through the footage in reverse, Allison keeping her eyes fixed the edge of the screen where she could just see the edge of the Grim Reefer poking out. There were people coming and going, and she knew that she would only be able to identify those who she was looking for once that boat disappeared. And then, suddenly, it was gone.

"Play it forward. Normal pace. Please," she added, aware her tone had been boarding on a snap and while she knew Jeff wasn't the sort of person to take it personally, he was doing her a huge favour. She felt the tension being held in every part of her body as the footage rolled forward at regular pace, and she kept her eyes locked on the spot that was now empty, waiting for the boat to dock.

"There she is," Jeff said as the edge of the boat nudged up against the dock.

Allison's fingers dug into the back of Jeff's chair and she held her breath. She didn't know what she was expecting, or hoping, to see. She didn't want it to be someone she knew, but she also partly did- if she knew them, maybe the kids would be okay, maybe they could find them. If she didn't know them… Then that tiny slither of hope she had been holding onto ever since this nightmare began would flicker and go out, and she didn't quite know how she would cope and carry on if that happened.

The edge of the boat on the screen dipped and Allison's grip tightened even more. This was it. And then, onto the screen, several figures appeared. The hour was early, the footage quite grainy, the figures hurrying along, and Allison frowned, not quite sure.

"Go back, please," she said to Jeff. "Who are they?"

"Don't know, love." Jeff leaned closer the screen as he rewound and then replayed the footage of the five men- because that was all that was really clear, that they were male- quickly making their way up the wharf.

"Is there another camera we can look at? From up close to the office?"

Jeff's face brightened. "Smart cookie," he said, and clicked a couple of things, muttering to himself, and then there was a different angle on the screen. Jeff scrubbed back through the footage to the correct time, and he and Allison waited while the figures got closer.

The camera this time was going to capture them head on, not back and to the side, so this was going to be the best chance of getting a look at them. Allison felt her hope flare and then wane as the men got close enough to the office camera to be seen as clearly as they were going to be, and she didn't recognise them. Tears started to well in her eyes, and she blinked them away and looked up at the ceiling. The footage could go to the Federal Police when they arrived, but there was nothing more Allison could do. She was absolutely powerless.

"Hang on a min, love." Jeff scrubbed the footage back again, then replayed it twice more, frowning and peering at the screen. "Ain't that your mate?"

"Charlie? Can't be."

"Nah. That other kid."

Allison didn't want to remind Jeff she was pushing thirty, and hardly a kid, but then he continued and she realised what he meant.

"Hung out all together, at school." Jeff stopped the footage and plonked a finger onto the screen, right on the fifth man who was following along several metres behind the initial four. "Muriel's boy, rest her soul. Peter."

Allison wiped the tears from her eyes and refocused, moving closer to look at the screen. She frowned as Jeff played it slowly, and the figure moved more into the sensor light outside the office that had been tripped by the others ahead of him. "You know what," she said, unable to keep the delight from her voice. "I think you're right. That's Pete." The delight turned to anger in an instant. "Bloody Pete Morris. And," she added, more to herself than to Jeff, "that means Charlie knew. All this bloody time, he knew…" She was shaking now. "I'll kill him."

"Might be a bit hard," Jeff said calmly, "what with him in the cop shop and all. Although Rob might oblige and look the other way for five minutes. He is quite accommodating."

Allison squeezed the older man's thin shoulders in thanks. "You're amazing, Jeff. Thank you. Can you make a copy of all the footage with that lot in it, ready for the police?"

"Can do, love." He was already shuffling through an overfilled drawer for a blank disc. "Tell Rob I'll drop it to him in a half hour or so, and he can pass it onto the Feds."

Allison called her thanks again over her shoulder as she took off at a run, out of the office and away from the marina, heading into town and for the tiny police station in the centre. The tiny flare of hope was back, although along with that was a resurgence of the absolute rage she felt at her friend; Charlie had some explaining to do.

Rob seemed to have found a work ethic and desire to follow procedure to the book, because he was absolutely not having it when Allison arrived at the station and asked to see Charlie.

"Al, seriously." The constable looked at her, incredulous. "He's a suspect in a series of major crimes… And your involvement is also going to be questioned," he added, although he had the decency to sound apologetic about that. "I can't let you have a conference."

"I don't want a conference. I want a quick word. A word," she continued, raising her voice as Rob went to cut her off again, "that might help track these kids down."

"Then tell me, and I'll question him."

Allison hesitated. She felt responsible, and she also thought that she had the best chance of getting any information out of Charlie, but Rob's face was set, and he didn't seem like he was going to budge on his stance. With a sigh, Allison tried once more.

"Please, Rob." She was well aware she sounded like she was begging because, let's be honest, she absolutely was. "I don't need privacy. You can be a witness. In fact," she added, "I want you there so I don't… I'm very close to losing my absolute shit with Charlie, Rob, if I'm being honest. I think he knows exactly who is behind this, and I think he's known the whole time, and I need him to stop lying and start telling us the truth."

Rob was silent as he considered her, considered her request, and to Allison's relief she could see him wavering. He glanced over to the left where a door led through to the back of the station and the holding cell. "Five minutes," he eventually said, and Allison wasn't sure if she wanted to cry in relief or jump over the counter and hug the constable. "And I'm coming with you."

"Great. Thank you, Rob. I really appreciate this."

He shuffled about and found the key for the back room that contained the cell, and Allison was on his heels as he led her into the rear of the station.

Charlie was lying on the fixed metal bed, one hand over his eyes, and Allison felt a rush of anger all over again. He was bloody sleeping. She hadn't got so much as a moment of shut eye ever since this whole ordeal started, she was running on caffeine and adrenaline and stress, and he was sleeping.

"Wake up," she snapped, and then realised he maybe wasn't snoozing when his arm immediately flew off his face; he was so startled he almost fell off the bed. She felt no sympathy, no pity. "You knew," she spat. "You fucking knew, and you didn't say anything."

"Knew what?" Charlie sounded groggy, his voice croaking. His eyes were bloodshot, and he struggled to sit up, wincing, one hand pressed to his still bandaged head. "What are you talking about, Al?"

"Pete Morris. He's involved in this."

Charlie's face went pale. "I- No, I didn't-"

"Cut the bullshit. You knew." To her horror, Allison realised she was on the verge of tears again. She was so tired, so sad, so angry. She became aware she was shaking again, and that Rob was giving her a concerned sideways look. "Who else is involved? Where are they?"

"I don't know-"

"Stop lying." She was just about screaming at him now, all sense of composure gone. Her hands reached out and gripped the bars of the cell tightly, and she could see Rob take a step towards her. "For once in your life, Charlie, grow up and take responsibility. Do you know what you've done? Do you even think what the families of those kids are going through right now? Do you know what this is going to do to me, to Toby, to the business? To this island?" Her hands tightened on the bars, partly wishing they were around Charlie's scrawny neck instead. "Grow a backbone, Charlie," she snapped.

Charlie sat and stared at her for what felt like ages, but was really just a matter of seconds. He sighed, shoulders slumping, and dragged his eyes from hers to stare at the cell floor instead. "They sold me out," he said in a small voice, and Allison hated that, in that moment, as he finally looked up and met her eyes again, his own filled with tears, she felt sorry for him.

She squashed down the sympathy and demanded, "Who sold you out? Pete did? Tell me the truth."

"We siphoned off some stuff. Were gonna sell it on ourselves." Charlie's voice went from small and vulnerable to annoyed. "They paid us scraps, and we did all the work."

"Who are these guys, Charlie?" Rob, who Allison had actually forgotten about, so his sudden booming voice made her jump. He pushed up beside her, and she realised at some point he had retrieved a recorder and switched it on. Or maybe he had it the whole time- awkward, what with her screeching and losing her marbles and kind of maybe being a suspect and not actually being a police officer who was allowed back to question a suspect, but probably if they got a result and saved some lives that might be overlooked.

"We need names," Allison added.

"I don't know," Charlie said.

"Don't-"

"I'm not lying. I barely even know what they look like, and I don't know how many are involved," he added quickly. "Pete did most of the actual organising, I just helped with drops. That's what I was doing out on the reef. The boys were going to come and take the stuff we siphoned off, but they obviously told the boss what we were doing and dumped me in it. Sent out some goons to take it back and get rid of me." Now the floodgates had opened, Charlie wasn't shutting up. "Pete, Ty, Francis. They're the only ones I know. They're the ones who must have sold me out. The others- I could pick some of the goons out of a line up, maybe, but I don't know their names. And I've never even spoke to the boss. They won't still be on the island, if they came back. The would have taken a plane, now the airstrip is opened up, or another boat. They don't hang around here, they use it as a pick up station, that's it."

"Tyler Moore and Francis Goebel?" Rob had the recorder just about thrust into the cell now, not wanting to miss a word.

"Yeah."

"And Peter Morris?"

"Yeah."

"They're involved in this? For the tape," Rob added, as an afterthought. He didn't really look like he knew what he was doing, had probably never conducted an interview since his posting on the island a decade earlier, but he was doing an okay job at winging it.

"They're involved in this," Charlie confirmed.

"Where are they now, Charlie?" Allison said. "Pete came off a boat with four other guys- no Ty, no Francis."

"Probably the ones that took shots at me."

"And kidnapped the kids," she added sharply, reminding him it wasn't all about him.

"Forget the kids, Al," Charlie said softly. "They'll be long dead."

Allison had released the bars of the cell at some point, but now she wanted to grip them tightly again. "Unless we find bodies," she snapped, "we aren't going to think that. Where would they have taken them? Where would Ty and Francis be?" She wasn't letting him just dodge her question, to get out of answering where his other two mates would be bunking down.

Charlie shrugged. "Pete was more the middleman for us. It was his idea in the first place, he kind of dragged us into it."

Once again, with the lack of responsibility; Allison bit her lip to stop herself from snapping at him again. "So Ty and Francis might have… what? Gone on a holiday?"

Charlie shrugged. The loose tongue was retracting, he was less willing to talk, slouching again on the bed and looking like he wanted to just curl up in a ball and sleep away the nightmare he had got himself into.

"Where do they go, Charlie?"

"The kids will be dead, Al," he snapped. "And give up looking for bodies- they would have shot them and dumped them over the side. They'll be crustacean chow."

Allison wanted to scream and curse at him. This was not her friend, not any more. This was not the Charlie she had grown up with, not the Charlie she had started a business with, not the Charlie she thought of like her brother. This was a pathetic excuse for a human, talking about six teenagers like they had never been people, never been kids under their care, hadn't been kidnapped on their watch.

"Where do they go?" Her voice was low, menacing, and she saw Charlie's Adam's apple bob; he seemed more alarmed when she didn't shout than when she did. "Any possibility, no matter how small, we are going to check. If there is any chance any of those kids are still alive, we are going to take it and run with it. So where do Ty and Francis go, when they want to be pathetic and lie low and wait for the heat to die down."

Charlie didn't answer straight away, but Allison could see he knew. She could see he knew, and see he was wavering on answering, and his response to her quieter approach to questioning made her feel that allowing the silence to stretch would do all of the intimidation without her even having to strain her voice.

"There's an island," Charlie said eventually. "I don't know where it is, not exactly. But they go there to hunt."

Allison felt a cold shiver pass through her body. "Hunt?" she repeated. "Hunt what?"