until the clerk had gone to do exactly that, he lowered his tone. “I think Matilda needs a shoulder to lean on.” Steve hadn’t made an appearance so far and Will wasn’t expecting that to change. “Do you know her well enough?”
Anahera’s eyes grew darker, a storm front crossing the horizon. “She used to be friends with my mother. I’ll try, see if she’ll let me comfort her. If not, I can call Josie and track down a friend she trusts.”
Nodding, Will was about to head off to find out if Te Ariki was in town or out at sea, when Anahera stopped him with a hand on his forearm. “Why aren’t you searching?” It wasn’t an accusation but a question.
“Someone has to work the other angles,” he said quietly and watched harsh comprehension dawn on her face.
Hand dropping off his forearm, she shifted both into the pockets of her anorak. “A few of the hunters brought in their dogs earlier, and Matilda was able to find some clothes Miriama had put into the laundry basket so the dogs had a fresh scent, but they all lose her partway along the coastal track.”
Will’s blood pounded in time with his pulse. “Did you search the beach and clifftop again?”
“Yes.” Anahera’s jaw worked. “Nothing, there’s nothing. It’s like she vanished into thin air.” She tore the knit cap off her head, crushed it in her hand as her hair tumbled out to fall partway down her back. “Tell me if there’s anything else I can do, anything that might help Miriama.”
Will went to say this was police business and realized very quickly that he’d be throwing away a possible resource. “You’re a local,” he said. “And because you’ve been gone for years, no one will find it suspicious if you ask certain questions. I don’t know what those questions are yet, but when I do, will you ask them for me?”
Anahera’s eyes were unreadable. “Yes. Do you really think one of us hurt Miriama?”
“Everyone has hidden corners of their life, even the people we think we know inside out.”
Breaking the eye contact, Anahera tugged her cap back on. “I’ll keep my ears open. The other search teams are going to come in soon as the rain starts—we’ve already searched every possible area we can, most of them twice. It’s getting to the point there’s nowhere left to look. Everyone will want to theorize, talk, but it’ll probably be more open if you’re not there.”
Will gave a curt nod. “I’ll come by your cabin after dark to get an update. I won’t be able to get away before then.” Not only did he have to run down what flimsy leads he had about Miriama, he’d have to begin patrols the instant the rain hit. Every so often, the teenagers got stupid; he’d once caught a bunch of them heading down to a relatively safe patch of surf—safe, that is, on a calm clear day with adults watching and ready to help.
Things usually settled down after nightfall, when the addition of pitch darkness to cold and rain made it far less attractive to sneak about and get up to mischief. “Here’s my number in case you need to touch base before then.”
Anahera took his card, slid it into a pocket. “If anyone sees you and asks me about your visit, I’ll tell them you’re hounding me because I still haven’t got myself on the right phone plan.”
“It’s not a joke.” She’d be totally isolated out there should anything happen.
Anahera raised an eyebrow. “Which is why I am with the new provider now. But it’ll make a good excuse.” With that, she turned in the direction of the fire station.
Anahera took a deep breath on the doorstep of the fire station, struck harder than she’d thought she would be by the sight of Matilda sitting with her face buried in her hands, the comforting bulk of her body shaking with rough sobs.
Anahera remembered running up to hug that body as a child, her face squashed into the softness of Matilda’s belly. Maybe she’d found such happiness in Matilda’s arms because her own mother had been shaped the same, with wide hips and soft curves. And maybe it was for that same reason that she’d been unable to hug Matilda ever again after the day she walked into the cabin and found Haeata’s broken body.
“Auntie,” she said, using the same respectful tone she’d always used when it came to her mother’s best friend. “It’s Ana.”