Page 38 of The Vanishing Place
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. Butwithme.” 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.”
