Deep Wate - Sarah Epstein Page 0,66

around 10 January with no responses from Henry. As he did with us, Henry left Missy hanging.

Unless …

Missy could simply be covering her tracks. If she was catfishing Henry, she might have found another way to make contact and lure him away. Is Missy even still around, or has she moved on to another victim because it all fizzled out with Henry?

‘Okay,’ I say, my hands poised over the keyboard.

Sabeen pushes herself off the bed and comes to stand beside me. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m going to pose as Henry and write Missy a message.’

‘Umm …’ Raf says, joining us at the desk, ‘are we sure that’s wise?’

‘We’re sure,’ I say. ‘How else are we going to find out who Missy is?’

I start typing.

‘Hang on, hang on,’ Sabeen says. ‘Don’t you think we should show this message thread to someone first?’

‘Like who?’

She shrugs. ‘Sergeant Doherty?’

‘Why? He won’t do anything about it. He’ll only add it to “Henry’s file”—’ I make air quotes with my fingers, ‘—and sit on it. Meanwhile, we could actually get somewhere.’

Sabeen sucks in a breath through her teeth. ‘Yeah, but there are proper channels for doing things, right? I mean, this must be all kinds of wrong.’

My fingers move across the keys and Raf leans over. ‘Oh man. What are you saying?’

He reads the line I’ve written.

Hey. How’s it going? Long time no chat.

I glance at him, my finger hovering over the Enter key.

‘Shit,’ he murmurs, a glint of mischief in his eyes. ‘Send it.’

Sabeen makes a tiny yelping noise as I press the Send button. She doesn’t try to stop me, though. The new message appears in the chat window and we all stare at the screen for a few seconds. There’s no profile picture icon to the right of the message to show it’s been seen.

‘Now what?’ Raf says.

‘We wait.’

Sabeen picks nervously at her lower lip, her round brown eyes flitting between my face and the computer screen. ‘What are you going to ask her if she replies?’

‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘What do you guys think I should ask?’

Raf holds up his hands. ‘Hey, this is your show, lady. We’re just along for the ride.’

As I start to say something else, Missy’s profile pic pops up beneath my message.

‘Holy crap,’ I blurt. ‘She’s read it.’

Three flashing dots indicate Missy is replying. Her one-word message pops up, begging me to engage: HENRY??

Raf nudges me. ‘She wants you to respond, Henry.’

‘I guess it’s showtime,’ I say, and start typing.

Henry: Hi.

Missy: Where the hell have you been? Are you in Sydney?

Henry: Why?

Missy: We need to meet. In person. I’ll meet you somewhere.

Henry: Um, okay.

Missy: Can you do it tomorrow? Or Sunday?

Henry: Yeah, tomorrow’s fine. What time?

Missy: 11. At Hyde Park. There’s a big fountain. Archibald Fountain. You can’t miss it.

Henry: I’ll find it.

Missy: Will you definitely be there?

Henry: Of course.

Missy: You really need to come. Please turn up.

Henry: I will. How will I know who you are?

Missy: I’ll be wearing a red coat. You wear something red too and stand right next to the fountain.

Henry: I’ll find you.

Missy: Henry … don’t freak out. I might not be what you’re expecting.

Henry: I might not be what you’re expecting either.

Ten days before the storm

Mason checked his phone again. Another text from Rina. Nothing from Tom. Tonight would be the first time the whole group had been together since Boxing Day, and Mason had no idea how things were going to go. It had been nearly a week since Ivy cut her hand and dripped blood all over the kitchen floor. It was only superficial in the end, not even deep enough for stitches, but she had made enough mess for Henry to completely freak out. In some ways that was Mason’s fault for shielding his brother from so much of Ivy’s behaviour over the years. If Henry had cleaned up after her as much as Mason had, it probably wouldn’t have come as such a shock.

Henry wasn’t speaking to him, and Mason couldn’t really blame him. He hadn’t yet apologised for pushing Henry off Devil’s Rock. By the time he’d got home that day to deal with his mother and the mess, the shame of what he’d done had well and truly caught up with him. He’d crawled into bed with a piercing headache and didn’t even hear Henry come home. Mason could lie to himself and pretend there hadn’t been an opportunity to bring it up in the days since. The truth was, he was struggling to