up at the sound of the chopper, Nikau didn’t wave. Instead, he ducked under the stone to disappear inside. “We should focus on the cliffs above,” Will said to Daniel. “Nikau can check out the cave.”
Fine lines bracketing his mouth, Daniel didn’t argue for once. They skimmed along the top edge of the cliffs back to the other side of the whirlpool and, while most of it was tangled growth that hadn’t been disturbed for years, Will did spot what might’ve been a disturbance in one small section. Using his phone, he asked one of the nearby searchers to have a look.
“Definite signs someone stood or walked through here,” the man confirmed. “But it’s not churned up like if Miriama went over the edge.” A small pause. “Almost as if a pig hunter maybe walked out of the trees behind me and came to stand here, look at the view.”
“Okay, leave it as it is,” Will said. “I want to have a look myself.”
Hanging up, Will considered the cave again and frowned. That cave was exactly the kind of secretive and private spot teenagers loved. It should’ve passed from teenage group to teenage group in a town like this, but for whatever reason, it had been abandoned. Forgotten.
It made him wonder what secrets lay within, what secrets tied Daniel to Nikau, Nikau to Anahera.
16
Anahera trudged through the forested track beside Vincent, conscious of the sound of the chopper fading into the distance. Nikau had designated her and Vincent a search team after they were two of the earliest people to turn up at the fire station. Peter Jacobs had also turned up around the same time, but thankfully, Nikau had matched the garage owner with one of the more experienced hunters.
“You look bad, Vincent.” Always his full name or Vin, never Vinnie; he simply wouldn’t respond to anyone who tried to call him that. “Do you know Miriama well?”
“I love my coffee, you know that.” A self-deprecating smile that didn’t reach the arresting tawny shade of his eyes. “When I’m in Golden Cove and working from home, I see her pretty much every morning and every afternoon. She always has that smile. So bright. So much life to her.”
Anahera thought again of the lovely young creature she’d met and felt a shivering chill within. The world had a way of crushing things that were beautiful and so bright that they glowed. “Is there any chance she might’ve just taken off?”
“Matilda says all her stuff is still in her room. Her wallet, her favorite jeans. She only took her phone and the iPod—just what she normally takes on a run.”
Anahera had been afraid that would be the answer. She looked desperately into the trees, in the hope she might magically spot a flash of cheerful orange or brilliant pink. But there was only verdant green and healthy brown, the curling fern fronds delicately lit by the morning sunlight that speared through the canopy.
She’d missed this so much, this primeval landscape unlike any other place on Earth, but she knew the beauty around her could be deadly. There’d been more than one lost hiker over the years she’d lived in Golden Cove. The tourists came, saw the initially unthreatening lushness of the bush and didn’t listen to warnings to be careful, to stick strictly to the marked paths.
They’d go off the track “just a little” to take a photograph or chase a native bird, and the next thing they knew, they’d be turned around and scared and unable to find their way back out through the dense growth. If the hikers had been smart and filed a plan with the town’s tourism office, then a search would be mounted as soon as they didn’t show up at the appointed time. But too many weren’t smart.
By luck, most had stumbled out or been found by locals who lived wild.
At least three hadn’t. All over the course of a single hot summer. And all young women from distant corners of the world.
Their bodies had also never been found—once this landscape took you, it held you close. In fact, the only evidence the first had even been in Golden Cove was a distinctive water bottle plastered with stickers from around the world. It had been found because of a search for another hiker who’d gone missing and who had filed a plan for her hike.
Only days later, a local hunter helping with the search had found a backpack half-buried in a stream; it was proved