peace.”
She banged her fist against the wood. “I am an annoying reporter, and annoying reporters don’t leave people in peace.” Trusting the cops were too busy to listen, she had called Adam before she had even exited the police station, given him this address, and told him to meet her around the corner in two hours, resenting the delay the bus trip home to pick up her car was going to cause. She figured that since annoying journalists didn’t get admitted into grieving relatives’ homes, the only way in was to play the sympathising I’m-a-victim-too angle and she needed Adam for that.
“Hold ya horses. I’m coming,” a voice yelled from inside.
Ella raised an eyebrow at Adam. “See.”
He shifted uncomfortably. The door opened, and a man in his early twenties, dark dishevelled hair clinging to his ears, squinted at them before managing to open bloodshot eyes. His fleecy tracksuit pants were in slightly better repair than his worn grey tee-shirt.
“I’z sleepin’,” he yawned at them.
Adam stepped forward. “Matt Hayes? My name’s Adam Lowell. My cousin, Cecily Williams, disappeared from the area three weeks ago.” Ella could hear the lump in his throat constricting his words. Six families had been torn apart now. She could not imagine how someone got over such a tragedy. Her problems abruptly paled into insignificance.
“Oh, yeah. Me girlfriend Bekka’s missing too.”
“That’s why we’re here.” Adam looked at Ella, who nodded encouragement. “We were hoping we could talk to you.”
He scratched his head and sniffed. “You wanna come in?”
The door admitted them directly into the carpeted living room. A bland coffee table littered with empty beer cans sat between a television on a battered entertainment unit with open doors and a vinyl bean bag. DVDs and videos were scattered all over the place, most, Ella noticed with amusement, sci-fi, including a number of copies of The X Files . Matt gathered the DVDs on the sofa and dumped them onto the already crowded table, knocking a can onto the floor. Ella saved a disc from the dripping beer and wondered just how much time he spent watching this rubbish.
“Hey,” he said, seemingly noticing Ella for the first time. “Don’t ya write for the Informer ?”
Ella rolled her eyes.
“She’s here as a friend, just offering moral support,” Adam supplied.
“You wanna quote or sometin’, for the paper?” he said, ignoring Adam. Eagerness had cleared his face of sleep.
“Perfect,” Ella jumped in.
“Sure. Do I get my photo published, too?”
Ella sighed. “You understand my editor has final say on the article. I can’t guarantee that everything you tell us will make it into print.”
“No worries. This is so cool, me quoted in the Informer . Wait till I tell me mates. But how come you’re here?”
“Sorry?” Confused, Ella extended her neck a little.
“Yeah. I mean you don’t write no good stuff, only celebrity gossip, no aliens or monsters or nothin’. Them other reporters do the big stuff.”
“Right,” Ella said, taken aback. “Well, I’m writing quality goods now. I’m possibly even going to include vampire bats.”
“Fair dinkum!”
It was Adam’s turn to roll his eyes. He clapped a hand over his forehead and eyes and shook his head before rubbing his hand down his face and dropping it to his side.
“And you needed me because?” he whispered to her.
She thrust the DVD at him, making sure she hit him in the process. Matt flopped onto the bean bag. Following suit, she and Adam sat on the sofa.
“I’d really appreciate your honest account of the night Bekka disappeared,” she continued, retrieving a paper and DVD wedged between the seat and back of the couch. Matt plucked the folded paper from her hands, stuffed it into the cabinet, and clicked the door shut. She sat the DVD in her lap and eyed the compartment, in part to avoid looking at the horrific face on the cover but mostly because when someone