“Purple stars,” Matilda blurted out. “She put stickers of purple stars on the iPod, uses it with a set of black earbuds. And her shoes are black, too, with orange stripes.” She rubbed her forehead. “I got her a new shell for her phone. Black with specks of silver.”

Will returned his attention to Steve after noting down those distinctive details. “Did you look out to see where she went?”

“Nah, game was on. Couldn’t be bothered.”

Deciding he’d get nothing else useful from the man, Will turned his attention to Matilda and managed to get the exact model of Miriama’s phone as well as the number. “I need you to write down who you’ve called and what they said. I’m going to drive out to Tania’s and check the coastal road.” If he’d had other officers, he could’ve stationed one with Matilda, but he was ­alone—­and finding Miriama if she was injured was a priority.

Leaving Matilda scrambling for a pen and paper, he headed out to his SUV but made two calls before he started the engine. The first was to Miriama. It got redirected immediately to the same message Matilda had heard, so either Miriama was in a dead zone, the phone battery was dead, or the phone had been destroyed.

His second call was to Nikau. “Nik, I need you to scramble the volunteer fire department and anyone else who can help in a search at night.” It could be he was acting too soon, but Will’s gut said otherwise. “Miriama didn’t make it home after a run, might be lying hurt somewhere.”

“Shit. I’ll get them together.”

“Gather everyone in front of the firehouse.” The relatively large building with a single aging appliance was an easy central location, and it had enough space that the volunteers could all gather inside for instructions if the weather turned. “I’ll be there after I chase down some information. I’ll call if I catch a scent.”

“You want me to rouse the bushmen?”

Will considered it. The generally unsociable folk who preferred to live deep in the wilderness that surrounded Golden Cove would be of invaluable help if Miriama had turned onto a forested track later on during her run. “Yes.” He’d get cursed out soundly should this be a false alarm, but Will was willing to live with that.

“Call everyone,” he said, and tried not to listen to the voice in the back of his head that whispered his response had nothing to do with Miriama, that he was attempting to fix a mistake seared in hot red flame.

The scars on his back felt suddenly stiff.

10

The porch light was on at the Meikle house, and when he got out of his vehicle, he heard loud music pouring through the upstairs windows. Probably courtesy of Tania Meikle’s teenage sister. Tania herself opened the front door to his knock. The ­twenty-­four-­year-­old carried a blond toddler on her hip, lines of worry marking her face. “You haven’t found her?”

“No. Can you tell me what you saw?”

She tucked back a strand of pale brown hair. “Come in.”

Walking inside because he figured she might want to sit, he tried to avoid stepping on the colored children’s bricks scattered on the floor. “When’s Gary back?” Tania’s husband made his living on ­long-­range fishing trawlers.

“A month. Can’t wait.” Tania tried to put her boy down, but he wailed at the idea and clung.

Snugging the ­red-­faced toddler back to her hip, she rocked him out of the tears. “It wasn’t much, you know? Just normal. Miri running by on those long legs of hers. I called out to her and she waved.” A shaky smile that didn’t reach the faded blue of her eyes. “I was thinking of sitting out there for a bit and asking her in for a visit in case she returned the same way, but the baby was fussy, so I brought him inside to play and forgot all about keeping an eye out.”

The boy decided to wail again right then.

“Here, I’ll take him.” The voice was young and female. “He probably just wants to be walked around.”

“Thanks, hon.” Tania handed over the toddler to her teenage sister, a short girl with curly ­brown-­blonde hair. “Alice, did you see Miriama today?” she asked as the teenager began to move around the room with her nephew in her arms.

“Yeah, when you yelled out to her.” A roll of the eyes. “Totally interrupted my call with Lisa, but whatever.”

“Were you upstairs in your room?” Will asked.

Making nonsensical noises at the baby, Alice nodded. “Yep.”

“You had a better view than your sister. Did you see where Miriama went?”

Alice scrunched up her nose, making the baby giggle. “Down the coastal way. I watched for a little bit because she’s pretty awesome to watch move. Like a dancer or something.” Flushing at that, she shrugged. “Then Lisa started telling me about the total loser she has a crush on and I got distracted.”

“Is it possible Miriama might’ve turned off the road onto one of the bush tracks?” What the locals casually called “the bush” was heavy ­old-­growth forest, the interior dark green and difficult to navigate if you wandered off the rough dirt paths.

“Maybe, I guess,” Alice answered. “But she was going pretty straight.” A glance at Tania, youthful insouciance fading into shaky disquiet. “Tans? Did something happen to Miri?”

“I hope not.” Tania stroked her sister’s back. “I’m sorry we can’t help more,” she said to Will. “I’m so worried.”

Taking his leave of the two sisters after asking Tania a few more questions focusing on what she knew of Miriama’s favorite routes, Will drove slowly down the coastal road, scanning it on all sides as he went. He saw nothing and Miriama had been brightly dressed, would’ve stood out if she’d ­fallen—­or even if a car had clipped her and she’d been thrown. But it was dark, no streetlights to penetrate the gloom. And if she’d headed down to the beach, then the only way to spot her would be on foot.

Jaw clenched, he turned around and made his way to the fire station, which someone had opened up. He was more than half hoping to arrive and find that the call-­up of volunteers had unearthed ­Miriama—­the news would’ve spread through the town like wildfire. If she’d been in anyone’s kitchen or living room, she should’ve turned up. But he arrived to find the volunteers milling around with anxious looks on their faces.

“No sign of her?” he asked Nikau.

The other man shook his head. “I had everyone do a bit of calling around before they came here. Nothing. Couldn’t get hold of Dominic de ­Souza—­the message on his voice mail says he’s been called out to one of the more remote farms and to contact emergency services if there’s an urgent medical matter. He’s probably out of cell range.”

Will nodded. “From this point on, we assume Miriama is down and needs assistance.”

He and Nikau both knew there could be a far more unsavory reason for Miriama’s disappearance, but Will had to go with the most likely option first. Crime in Golden Cove was generally limited to domestic aggression, kids playing up, and a bit of petty thievery. Accidents, however, were more common, the rugged landscape intolerant of mistakes.