Excerpt from Act One of Lies At The End of the World :

++

The bull pen of the Sydney precinct was absolutely swarming with people. Amanda tamped down on her feelings of being overwhelmed by the sight, sound and smells of the general humanity of it all. Off to the side, a uniformed officer was dragging away a resisting scruffy man to somewhere deeper into the building. Beyond that was a bench were several bored looking people, dressed up as street walkers, their heavy makeup suffering under the harsh fluorescent lights and clearly better to look at in the darker amber streetlights, looked as terribly bored as the officer taking their details. She quickly sidestepped what she assumed to be a pair of detectives, wearing really disappointingly ill fitted suits, who suddenly launched themselves out of their desk and into the path in between the small forest of desks in the relatively tiny space. They were all mostly empty, with the few that were occupied containing either grim looking people with deep lines on their faces and sombre suits and clothes or fresh faced perky ones, like the redhead currently jumping up from his desk to jog over to where she got stuck in between a group of foul mouthed youths and the exasperated officer trying to wrangle them.

"Oi, hey there." He said with a smile, leading her away from the swearing bunch. "You can get lost down here, Alice."

Amanda raised an eyebrow at the nickname. "Alice?" she repeated.

The young man had the audacity to laugh out loud, loose and infectious. "Well, the look on your face was like you fell down a rabbit hole."

She managed a quirk of her lips in response. She did probably look like a stunned deer. When she had gone down to report Hilde’s disappearance nearly a week ago, it was possibly as busy as this. It was, as Anthony had said, a Saturday afternoon. But Amanda had been in a haze of panic and the hangover was bursting out of her temples at the time; she hadn’t cared to pay attention to her surroundings at all. Once she kicked up at fuss, they were hustled out of this area and straight into one of the conference rooms. Amanda found herself looking around again, both curious and repulsed by the sheer amount of people and movement in the small space.

"Yeah, it’s like Central on rush hour round here." He said into her silence. "Damn near constant." He peered up at her and held out his hand, smiling at her expectantly. "I’m Ral--I mean, I’m Officer Raleigh Diener. I hope you’re looking for me. I’m sort of new around here, so I know what’s it like to feel a little bit overwhelmed by the bullpen."

Amanda smiled back tightly and shook his hand. "I’m Amanda Redding. Uhm thanks for taking me out of that mess." She said, motioning towards the group where they were now ensconced in a corner while the harried officer barked questions at them while the little punks sullenly and defiantly remained quiet.

It didn’t seem possible but Raleigh managed to beam even brighter at her. Honestly, Amanda thought slightly uncharitably, if that grin gets any wider and whiter I’ll need a fucking pair of shades. "Hullo Amanda, and that’s no problem at all. Always happy to save a fair maiden."

She gave him an unimpressed look. "Sorry, neither." she quipped, thinking of Uhura and the proprietary way that Raleigh kept hovering around her. He looked harmless, but so did Amanda. Off his confused look, and he lost some points for clearly not knowing Classic Trek, she continued. "Also, sorry to disappoint you, I’m actually looking for Lieutenant Warheit? He’s with Missing Persons."

The way his shoulders drooped in time to the pout on his face was almost comical. "Oh, yeah. All the pretty girls always end up on his desk."

Amanda tried not to stare at him openly at that statement and hoped he sincerely didn’t mean it the way that her mind translated it to. "I’m sure he’s just helping them find whoever is missing."

Raleigh rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah sure, if that’s like a sometimes thing. But every time a pretty girl goes to report something to Missing Persons, he always takes the case. I dunno, it’s like he has the nose for it. Or some weird hottie jedi sense."

She found herself mouthing out his last sentence perplexed by him in general. "Right." she said simply, unsure as to what to answer to that, whether it was true or not. Which might possibly be true, because whatever else Raleigh wanted to relate to her was halted by the fact that his head suddenly jerked forward, as if he was struck on the upside of the head from behind. Startled, Amanda tilted her head to the side to figure out Raleigh’s attacker.

"What are you doing harassing Miss Redding, Probie." Anthony’s light-hearted tone had an edge to it, even as he looked at Raleigh with a blank expression on his face, his hand just coming back down from where he had just apparently smacked Raleigh.

"Aw Warheit, I was just talking to her." Raleigh’s voice took on a whining pitch that annoyed Amanda. "I was being nice and everything."

Anthony remained looking unimpressed. "Sure you were. Well, she’s here for me. Go on; scoot, back into your burrow or wherever you hide when you’re not being creepy."

"He really wasn’t harassing me." Amanda spoke up, bringing both of their attention to her with Anthony looking at her disbelievingly and Raleigh with a small smile, as if he was pleasantly surprised. "We were just talking."

"He’s supposed to be doing paperwork." Anthony said mildly, turning back to glare at Raleigh anyway.

"It’s okay Miss Redding. Such are things." Raleigh said in reply, sighing as he did. He then turned to give her a weak wave in goodbye before shuffling back to the desk he was sitting at when Amanda had first arrived.

Amanda turned to Anthony with a disapproving frown. "You didn’t have to be so mean to him." She waved at his hands, "And honestly, isn’t that assault? Why aren’t the harassment folks all over you yet?"

"A little hazing never hurt anyone." Anthony quipped, shrugging as he did. He waved to the left hand side of the bull pen and walked on, apparently expecting her to follow.

And follow she did, though she resented being called to heel as if she were a dog. "Yes, it has!" Amanda insisted, snapping at him as she kept up with his long strides. "It’s totally barbaric!"

"Right on ’Mione." Anthony said, sounding very amused as he stopped at one of the empty desks. He waved towards the chair on one side and sat on the office chair opposite her. "It keeps the younger guns on their toes, weeds out the ones who couldn’t last out there in the streets." He pointed out, towards the doors. "You think the criminals out there would care if they were being mean to the fidgety little nerd in a uniform?"

Amanda remained disapproving, even if he was starting to make sense. She sat down primly in the chair, raising her eyebrow at him. "So you treat all your ’probies’", she lifted up her hands and curled her fingers to illustrate his ridiculous nickname. "Like that then?"

Anthony gave her a cheeky smile, wicked and unrepentant. Amanda almost wanted to mirror it. "Oh no, just him. Little Raleigh’s new."

Amanda sighed. It was like arguing with a brick wall. "Yeah, so he said." she replied flatly.

"Someone’s gotta keep an eye on the kid. He’s a good kid, I suppose. Enthusiastic, perky, creepy." Anthony explained, digging out a stress ball from somewhere. Instead of squeezing it though, he threw it up in the air and caught it with a triumphant little smirk. "Otherwise someone might feed him after midnight, and then where would we be then?"

"I assume off to ask Sir Christopher Lee for help." Amanda quipped, almost unable to keep her mouth quirking up in a smile. If Anthony called her down here just to impress her with his movie references, he would have a surprise waiting for him. Years of growing up with Hilde and her eclectic tastes in movies as well as her near obsessive desire to rant about them constantly at her had prepared her for this battle at least. "That would make your little Raleigh Gizmo, wouldn’t it though?" She let a little of her wicked smile show, amused at his discomfiture and surprise. "All cute and fuzzy, and with huge wide eyes. Chirpy voice."

He looked annoyed at the fact that he accidentally called his so called ’probie’ as cute. "Chirpy voice is right." Anthony replied with a sober smile, clearly impressed by her retort despite that. "What was his chirpy voice chirping to you anyway?"

Amanda raised her eyebrows. "Nothing, perhaps idle gossip." She demurred, despite the smile on her face being anything but.

"Ah hunh." He replied, clearly not believing her for a single second. "Was it about me?" he asked her, eyes focused solely on her.

"Not everything revolves around you Anthony." Amanda said with no small amount of disdain. Then she shrugged, "He just said some things."

"Things." Anthony echoed, sounding unimpressed.

She scowled at the implied command. "Yes, things about you. And about the type of person you seem to prefer to save."

His brows came together as his displeasure showed clearly on his face. "What?"

Amanda rolled her eyes. "Apparently you have a hottie jedi sense."

That surprised a bark of laughter out of him even as he looked at her incredulously. "Were those his exact words? What am I asking, of course those are his exact words, creepy little nerd." Anthony put down the stress ball on his desk with force, making it roll down to land on one of the piles of papers strewn around his desk.

"Says the man making Gremlins references and knows enough know that Sir Lee was in it." Amanda retorted, hoping to calm his thunderous expression and perhaps finally get to the bottom of why he had called her to the precinct.

"Glass houses." He threw back with a quirk of his lip. Anthony shook his head as if needing a physical reminder to get back to business. He paused a moment though, and turned to look at Amanda. "Look, I’ll drop this. But whatever he said, it isn’t true. I get the cases when they’re assigned to me by the captain. I don’t pick and choose."

"Maybe you should talk to your captain then." Amanda couldn’t resist one last dig. "Maybe he’s playing yenta for you."

Anthony paused and turned slightly in his chair to look towards a closed door off to the side. Amanda assumed that it was his aforementioned captain’s office, considering they were just talking about him. That and the fact that that door was labelled with ’captain’ in black letters on the glass. "Well, I don’t know. Maybe. He would look fetching in a bandanna."

Amanda reached out between them and rapped her knuckles on the tiny space left open on his desk, catching his attention again. "You can have your sordid sexual fantasies about your boss on your own time, Warheit." she all but barked, pointedly using his last name. For while it was fun to banter with him, this surely wasn’t the reason he called her down, was it? Amanda sighed as he only smiled back in response, totally unrepentant, and wondered if there was any truth to what young Raleigh had said. Regardless of Anthony’s denials, there couldn’t be any smoke without fire, wouldn’t there?

Taking a surreptitious look at him and Amanda knew that had they met in different circumstances, she wouldn’t have minded. His hair was cut a little longer than she thought was appropriate for a police officer but it kept it styled relatively away from his face. His suits we always impeccable, finely cut and well fitted. He had kind eyes and a wide mouth that kept smiling every time she would look at him. What was it though, that Raleigh said. Oh, such are things, she thought. Maybe in another life.

"Please tell me you called me down here for more than your witty banter, Anthony." Amanda said with little humour, leaning back on the chair and levelling him with a sombre gaze. "Not that it hasn’t been fun, but I don’t tend to hang out at police stations for fun."

"As opposed to the colourful menagerie that we usually have there?" he said with an edge of derision, nodding towards were most of the crowd was still shuffling to and from the insides of the police station and out the door, depending on the whims and commands of the uniformed officers.

"Clearly." She replied, enunciating every syllable, letting an inch of how exhausted and frustrated she was bleed into her voice. It had been a very long week. It was nearly a week to the day since her sister went missing and over four days ago since the studio’s inexplicable and infuriating gag order. Her deadline with her project was still looming, she still hated her company and Flanigan remained as useful as tits on a bull. Lachlan and Polly had been steadily in and out of her space. Lachlan had shown up at her work at closing on Monday after that disastrous attempt to get the studio to talk. He had made it clear that he intended to walk her home for the next few days. And so Amanda let him, if only because it seemed to make him feel better when Amanda was within her sight. Polly had been terribly busy, something about Lie’s End and the hotel’s financials going through a bit of a wringer. That being said, she had sent Timothy, her eldest, several times a week, bearing food Polly clearly cooked with enough leftovers to last her for a while. Timothy was a welcome sight as well, even as he managed to finally outgrow his crush on Amanda.

Between all of that, it had not left her a lot of time in the daylight to think about her sister, much less worry about where she was at this point in time. But in the silence of the evenings and the oppressive darkness of the early mornings, all the worry and dark possibilities sat like an anvil on her chest, leaving her breath short and her limbs weak. She could not close her eyes for fear of seeing phantoms of probabilities, all the dark things that could have befallen her sister. Kidnapping was the darkest one, even if it was ridiculous. They were Reddings, but there were possibly thousands more Reddings out there, richer, more powerful than them. There was no point in taking Hilde for money’s sake. And in the most exhausted hours of the night, she would think of episodes worthy of the cheesiest soap operas. Hilde having a concussion and forgetting who she was and where she had come from, meeting a stranger who tries to find out who she was and tried to help her, and eventually they would fall in love and even if Hilde never found out who she was again, at least she would be happy. Of all the ridiculousness of it all, Amanda found she liked that one best. For even if the pain was sharp at the loss, at least some part of her would know that her sister was happy.

But that was the rub, wasn’t it? It was her gut that told her that Hilde had not just wandered off and would eventually come back; her gut told her that her sister wasn’t coming back. But for whatever she may push, whatever suspension of disbelief she would do, those long nights where their mother’s old tales of psychic projections and witches that fly with their minds would come back to her and she would push and think and hope so hard. Nothing happened on those nights, except giving herself a massive headache that left her nearly nauseated. The chattering of the genetic remnants of superstition told her that no news was good news, in that she would end up feeling it deep within her soul if her sister was harmed in some way. Then the more rational part of her would rise up and sigh in exasperation, reminding her that she was in no way psychic, even if they do exist, and she really was desperate if she was going back to her mother’s old hobby of humming nonsense Latin over candles and strong smelling incense.

"Hey Amanda?" Anthony’s careful and gentle tones shook her out of her reverie, and Amanda found herself staring at her lap where she had somehow gotten hold of Anthony’s stress ball. She looked up to see him peering at her with hesitation and concern. His hand was half way stretched out between them, and when he saw her looking, Anthony drew it back closer to himself and let it fall own on his desk awkwardly, leaning on it as if that was his original intention. He brought up and fist and coughed delicately, his eyes suddenly everywhere else except at her. "Sorry, you seemed a bit lost in thought there."

"Unfamiliar territory." Amanda said with a sad smile that she knew Anthony would not fully understand. It still stung to end up bringing up jokes that she and her sister would tell over and over again until it was not so much the joke that was the point of the conversation but the fact that each other knew that the other would finish it for them. It still stung. She shook her head, as if doing it so might literally shake herself out of the stupor she found herself in. She alternated being fiercely and passionately angry and furious in her frustration at the fact that it was nearly seven days and still no sign of her sister and eventually being cold and frightened and very confused as to where her sister could be. Stuck in one, she would end up longing for the other until it swung back again but it was not the swing that was the issue. It was the inertia.

Amanda was getting very tired of not moving, and feared that every day that she did not move would be a day she would have difficulty moving again, should the situation call for it. Though to move to do what, it was one of her most supreme frustration to not be able to answer that.

As for answers, she settled for Anthony to give her some today. Amanda cleared her throat as well and gingerly returned the little blue stress ball back to Anthony’s desk, perching it between two daunting piles of paperwork. "Let’s just get down to business, okay Anthony?" She sighed and leaned back, folding her arms across her chest. She knew she looked defensive. But still. "It’s been a long week, Lieutenant." She sighed. "I just want to go camp out in my bed until you find my sister."

As she spoke, she noticed Anthony getting more ill at ease to the point wherein she finished and he literally winced at the end of her sentence. "See, that’s what I’m going to try to talk to you about actually."

"Seeing as this is not the social club and you’re the cop in charge of my sister’s case, yeah, I can assume you would want to talk to me about that." She snapped, trying to resist the urge to glare at him. If she wanted answers, she would have to endure his annoying roundabout way of getting to it. He eventually will get there, she thought to herself, patience is a virtue. It was a good reminder, even if patience was still a virtue when one’s sister was missing or if it were an unforgivable vice at this point in time.

Anthony let out a breath and started shuffling some of the piles of paper around. No, Amanda corrected herself, he seemed to be looking for something in particular. "You know about the snag about the studio basically slapping a gag order on every single one of their cast and crew right?" Off Amanda’s unimpressed look, he continued. "Right. So, with some new resources, we ended up looking at different ways to approach this."

"Alright." Amanda replied in a neutral tone, resisting the urge to shake him by the collar and yell at him to get on with it.

"One of the things that we looked at was the fact that you didn’t find her wallet with her things."

Amanda nodded, it was one of the few things that actually made her feel better in a matter of speaking. It helped to think that if Hilde was lost somewhere, she would at least have access to money to help get her out and back. Why she still hadn’t returned was a question Amanda still didn’t have an answer to.

Anthony let out a small sound of victory in the midst of his shuffling papers and drew out a piece of paper with what seemed to have an uncomfortable amount of numbers on it. For one ridiculous moment, Amanda hoped that Anthony wasn’t expecting her to do maths for him. Either way, he kept speaking. "So first things we looked at were her access accounts and her credit cards. And we found something a bit strange." He paused and gave her a look as if hoping to be proven wrong. Amanda sat up straighter in the chair and leaned her head slightly forward, anticipating the question. "Sorry, but just to verify, what did you say your sister’s job was?"

Of all the questions she was expecting, it was not that. Amanda was taken aback and for a moment could not remember. "Uh repair? No sorry, she does freelancing repair and maintenance for a long stay hotel in Liegen called Lie’s End. But her paying job is at the Sisters of Mercy, over at Liegen."

Anthony looked a little relieved. "Oh, good. The tax office hasn’t gotten back to us yet. That makes sense then if she’s a doctor."

Amanda winced and recalled her sister’s account of having to correct people about her job in the hospital, the awkward defensiveness. It was a paying job and it was legal. There was no shame in it. But nonetheless, Amanda felt the second hand shame for her absent sister. "No, she’s not a doctor." She managed to grit out, interrupting Anthony’s relieved babbling.

Anthony stopped short, his brows knitting together in confusion. "Oh sorry." he said, repentant in his bafflement. "A nurse then?"

She shook her head. "Porter." Amanda said simply, in a flat tone. In her mind’s eye, she could see her sister’s discomfiture and felt her shame. "She was a porter."

Anthony’s brows rose in surprise. "You said she had a medic--"

"It’s complicated." Amanda interjected before he could continue, annoyed in her sister’s name. "It has no relevance to her disappearance as to what her job was, I don’t see why you’re asking me this."

Anthony shook his head and pressed her further. "So she’s a porter in the hospital and she does maintenance in a hotel. Does she have any other job? Any other income?"

"No, that’s it. She takes weekend graveyard shifts at the hospital, and is usually at Lie’s End through most of the week."

"Does she live at this hotel, Lie’s End?"

Amanda snorted in response. "I wish. No, lieutenant. My sister lives with my mother. Still in Liegen, but in the suburbs."

Anthony’s tone was insistent. "So as far as you know, she has no other probable income."

"No, my sister is as poor as a church mouse. She lives with our mother, rent-free. She’s on Centrelink payments." Amanda took a deep breath and tried to think of any reason why the detective was so insistent. "The only other thing I can think of," she said slowly, trying to tamp down on her temper to answer the man the best she could. "is her inheritance from dad, when he passed on a few years ago." Amanda paused, swallowing past the lump in her throat. It was nearly two years ago now, to be exact and yet remembering still left her more than a little hollow, more so now with Hilde’s absence. "But she signed over her share of the inheritance to my mother a year ago."

And wasn’t that a grand row. When loyal Sleipnir broke down a few months ago, needing some fancy radiator that was specifically for Royal Buicks of Sleipnir’s age and make, Amanda confronted Hilde about the fact that it had taken her several weeks to get it to the mechanic in the first place. Hilde had then shrugged and said that she needed to save up for the repairs and that was how Amanda was told that Hilde had signed over the entirety of her inheritance to their mother, to fund her latest scheme. God, how she yelled at her sister that day. Hilde had borne it well, sitting quietly and smoking as Amanda ranted and raved at her stupidity, their mother’s manipulations and back again to Hilde’s gullibility. She would not take back a single word she had said that day, Amanda truly believed each and everything she said. She just wished she could get the chance to get angry at Hilde like that again.

"So she basically has nothing." Anthony said in a tone of voice that broke through her reverie and set her teeth on edge. It sounded like he was gearing up to tell her some difficult truth that she wasn’t going to like. Just like he did on the phone on Monday. "As far as you know, as you said, your sister Hilde is as poor as a church mouse."

Amanda nodded. "Yes. This party, this trip. It was a gift from Polly to Hilde and me. Hilde has had no money to throw around for months now." It niggled at her thoughts though, Hilde and her spending spree with regards to their room service shenanigans. But it was a silly thing, and after her disappearance, it was Polly who ended up shouldering that, not that she minded at all. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things and certainly did not matter in the case of her sister’s disappearance.

Anthony shook his head and looked back down at the piece of paper he had unearthed earlier. "Then I’m going to have to ask you as to where do you think this all came from." He turned the paper around and laid it flat in front of her, pointing to the figure at the bottom.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the eight figured sum sitting at the bottom of the paper, right where Anthony was tapping his long, surprisingly manicured, finger. "What." Her breath came out in that one word; surprised and utterly baffled. "That can’t be right." She took it from him in one quick pull of the paper; he had to let go of the piece of paper or else rip it with the force she used to pull it away. Looking up at the top of the paper, she saw her sister’s name in bolded letters. As with hers, she knew the last four digits of her sister’s bank account, enough to check things on first go. And a look at the numbers proved it was her sister’s account. "This cannot be right." She repeated, frowning deeply at the piece of paper. "Where the hell would she have gotten this much money. I mean, she would have some savings but this..." Amanda trailed off, staring at the paper uncomprehendingly.

"We tried to track the deposits." Anthony said, his tone gentle but professional. There was no trace of the joker who flirted with her earlier. "But our accountants are utterly totally baffled. They all seem to lead to dead ends and dummy corporations. Does your sister have any accounting acumen? Or does she know of anyone who does?"

Amanda threw him derisive look. "Lieutenant, my sister and I use the bloody e-tax program from the Taxation office. Polly has an accountant, but Timothy is actually her adopted son and he does her taxes for free. He’s not that good." She shook her head, handing back the paper to Anthony. "And Lachlan sometimes forgets that he has to pay taxes, we end up doing it for him as well."

Anthony shook his head as she tried to pass on the paper back to him. "You need to take a closer look." He said in response to her frown. "While the providence of the money is a bit of a mystery, there is a more suspicious one right there."

Still frowning, Amanda looked back to the piece of paper and tried not to boggle at the amount of money that was there. It had to be wrong somehow. If the police got the right account then someone had probably mistakenly put money in Hilde’s account. She couldn’t possibly have had this much money; Amanda could not think of where Hilde could have gotten it. As she struggled to focus, she eventually found what Anthony clearly wanted her to see. For while there used to be an eight figure digit in the account, it all disappeared down to zero, on Monday. "It’s all gone!" she cried out in surprise as she realized it. "Did they close her account?"

For a moment, Anthony looked like he was about to correct her but he shook his head and leaned over the piece of paper with her. "No, it’s still open. But that’s mostly because this bank doesn’t allow anyone else but the actual account holder to close their account. No one else, even their certified agents."

"Certified agents?" Amanda echoed, looking up at him questioningly. "What’s that?"

Anthony held his hands out and shrugged. "Lots of legalese and accounting jargon aside, basically it means someone who is carrying identification and a signed letter from the owner of the account saying that the agent is allowed to do whatever to their account." He tapped his finger right where the big fat zero sat in the paper. "And that agent, we believe, is the one that emptied out that account on Monday."

Amanda leaned forward, comprehension building up. "So the bank would have records of who took the money." She said slightly breathlessly, her eyes staring unseeingly at the piece of paper. "Whoever it is, they might have something to do with my sister being missing." Her eyes snapped up to bear on his. "You have to find them; they’ll lead us to Hilde!"

Again, as with before, Anthony held his hands out as if to physically stop her from launching herself out of the chair, out of the building and towards these agents that could possibly hold the key to Hilde’s disappearance, strange money or no. "Hold on." he said firmly. "Let me finish."

"Oh just get on with it." Amanda said, finally giving in to the impulse she has had since the beginning of the serious part of their discussion.

"We did contact the bank and asked them about the account, and who took it out. They were quite cooperative." He turned to his computer, still speaking while he turned it on and then eventually typed in a few commands. "They sent us some surveillance footage and the timestamp as to when the account was emptied as well. Here." He reached out and turned the screen over so that Amanda could see it.

The video was grainy and silent, with enough details to pass as security but enough graininess to be compressed into the smallest possible file size. Amanda’s fingers twitched with the urge to clean it up properly. As it was, Anthony fast forwarded it to the time he wanted. Customers zoomed in and out of the bank, lines crunched forwards as long minutes turned into mere milliseconds. Then Anthony let it play near noon, and a niggling feeling tugged at the edge of Amanda’s awareness. This was during the time when Polly had taken her to The Pump for their talk about the studio’s gag order. It had been a stressful lunch for both of them, even without the incomprehensible powers of the unseen corporation causing them heartache. Both Polly and Amanda shared a discomfort about great amounts of people, that Polly had chosen The Pump for a meeting place was not something Amanda considered strange, it made sense seeing as it was the closest decent cafe to her office. But that she willingly stayed to eat, despite her visible uneasiness had struck Amanda as different, and chalked it up to the need to keep a close eye on Amanda winning over whatever anxiety she would be feeling at that point.

But even without Anthony reaching out and pointing to the screen, Amanda would have known Lachlan anywhere. He strode up to the line, waited until his turn and then passed on a manila sized envelope to the teller with what seemed like his apologetic shrug. After he did so, the teller motioned for the rest of the people waiting behind Lachlan to move a different window, much to their visible, if not audible, annoyance. Amanda watched as Lachlan turned to look at them, his lips moving in apology, his sincere remorse written in the drop of his shoulders. This seemed to mollify a lot more of the customers as they shuffled off to the other open windows.

Anthony hit pause at that moment, freezing Lachlan in mid apology. He turned to her and was silent for a while. She too remained silent, but inside she was roiling with confusion and trying to come up with some sort of explanation.

He finally spoke up after a few more moments of that. "How much do you trust this Lachlan Wales?"

"With my life." It was a knee-jerk reaction, an answer she didn’t need to think about. Even after what she saw, Amanda knew there had to be a different explanation than the one Anthony was clearly assuming. "More importantly, with my sister’s life." She turned to look at him, resolute in her belief. "There is another explanation there. Polly said that Lachlan--"

"Wait, Mrs Spero knew what Lachlan was doing?" Anthony interrupted, looking ill at ease.

Amanda frowned at his interruption and continued as if not hearing his question. If he hadn’t broken in, it would have been answered anyway. "As I said, Polly said that Lachlan was at the bank that day. And I’m sure Lachlan banks at the same place. I distinctly remember Hilde having to help him set up his own bank account." She shook her head at the dubious expression on Anthony’s face. "You have it all wrong Anthony. Lachlan has no accounting chops, barely any comprehension of the minutiae of monetary matters. Of the three of them Polly is the only one who knows their ways around numbers."

Anthony looked grim. "So you’re saying, if anything is to be done about money, you go to Polly." he said softly, trailing off slightly and making it sound like a question.

Amanda held up a finger warningly at him. "No, do not go there. You cannot even go there." She knew she sounded very defensive, but all these things he was inferring and implying were ridiculous. "Polly could not have taken out the money either."

"You’re sure about that." Anthony said with the same disbelieving tone he had since she started defending her sister’s two oldest friends.

"Very sure." Amanda replied firmly. "Because at this time, this time stamp you say that was when the money was removed from the account, Polly Spero was with me, at The Pump. A cafe near where I work."

Anthony had picked up what seemed be a small notebook from one of his drawers and started writing when she spoke about where Polly was at that time. "The Pump you said? What was she doing there?"

"Checking up on me." Amanda explained through gritted teeth, feeling the beginning of a massive headache coming her way. This was beyond the pale. Instead of chasing down wherever her sister was taken, now they were stuck pointing fingers at her sister’s most trusted companions. "She was worried. You see, my sister went missing over the weekend." she said scathingly.

Anthony sighed and peered at her worriedly. "There is no need for hostility." he said mildly. "You told me to go look, and this is me looking. And this is what I am finding."

"You are finding crap! You are finding nothing but empty bank accounts and false accusations!" Amanda exclaimed, ignoring the looks being thrown their way by some of the other police officers. Anthony looked up and held up a hand and then made shooing motions. Amanda took a deep breath and covered her eyes, trying to get in control of her temper again. When she was able to, she spoke again, in a lower tone and slower. "Lachlan and Polly would not do this. They would not hurt me this way. And," she held up her finger again when it looked like Anthony was about to interject. "And! And if you are implying somehow that my sister engineered this herself, then you are wrong." She took a deep breath, it was shakier than she expected but she pressed on. "You don’t know them. You don’t know my sister. I do. And I am telling you that you are wrong."

Anthony shook his head at her, looking as frustrated as she felt. "You’re right, I don’t know them." he said as soon as she let him speak. "But what I do know is what the evidence is telling me. And it’s telling me that we’re not dealing with a disappearance here. At least not the Missing Persons kind."

Comprehension of just what he was telling her struck Amanda like a lightning bolt and she felt the hot pinpricks of angry tears begin. She took a deep breath, resisting the urge to rub at her eyes. "So you are telling me that you are not going to look for my sister anymore?" she said slowly, softly, with all the anger in her voice leeching the warmth from her words.

Anthony looked defeated. "No, not unless you are to withdraw your report." He looked at her hopefully; she replied with the most withering look she had ever given anyone in her entire life. Anthony winced in response and continued. "Right, snowball’s chance in hell for that, I suppose." He held his hand out in a gesture of surrender. "Bottom line is, yes, it will still be a report, and we will still keep an eye out for her." Anthony took the sheaf of paper with the bank details away from where Amanda had left it in front of her, gingerly; as if afraid she would snatch it back away from him again. For a moment Amanda wanted to do so just out of spite. "But at this moment, it is no longer an active investigation. And I’m back to being the only one on this particular case." He laid his hand pointedly on the biggest pile of paperwork on his desk. "Amongst others."

"This is fucking ridiculous." Amanda said, her voice annoyingly watery. She wanted to yell and scream and demand to be taken seriously. She wanted to cause a ruckus, make a scene. If only to have her sister appear and apologize profusely and to take her by the hand and admonish her in whispers. She swallowed thickly.

Anthony sighed and buried his face in his hands for a moment, bracing elbows on the desk. Through her anger, Amanda could see that the detective was very tired. Maybe as tired as she was, Amanda would probably never know. She wanted to hold on to her frustration and to keep directing it at him. She wanted to rise up, rile against him for daring to promise her that he could do this. But in the slump of his shoulders and curl of his fingers told Amanda that whatever accusations she had for Lieutenant Anthony Warheit, he had already told them to himself, and they were things that truly did not bear repeating.

"I don’t understand." She said softly, wanting to pull her legs up under her, curl up as small as she possibly can.

Anthony dropped his hands and looked at her, his eyes shining with some undefined emotions. Either way, his tone was firm. "Neither do I, Amanda. And I really am sorry. You were right in the beginning; I had no business promising anything to you." He took a deep breath and continued. "But at the heart of this is this, you need to start asking yourself as to what your friends, your sister’s friends are up to."

Amanda shook her head, tired but willing to dredge up the anger to keep defending Polly and Lachlan. "No, you’re wrong--"

Anthony did not let her finish, pushing on and talking over her. "Because when we asked them, they denied everything. Even with the visible evidence of the surveillance camera, Wales and Spero denied knowing anything about Hilde’s disappearance or at least the money." He tapped the folder where he tucked away the piece of paper from before. Upside down, Amanda managed to make out her sister’s name written on the folder. "I could show you the transcript from the questioning yesterday.

"What are you talking about?" Amanda asked, her voice small and bewildered. "Lachlan said he had a doctor’s appointment yesterday, when he was late in picking me up. Said Polly was with him."

Anthony shook his head at her and Amanda looked at him closely, ready to let her anger go at the first sign of pity. But she pressed her lips together as she saw nothing but sympathy, and again, the same frustration that was gnawing at her insides for the last week. He leaned forward and folded his hands together on the desk as he spoke. "No, they were here. We had questioned them for a couple of hours in the afternoon." He shrugged. "As you can imagine, we could not hold them."

"What?" Amanda was horrified at the thought of Lachlan and Polly behind prison bars as well as trying to wrap her head around what Anthony was implying.

"Well, suspicious funds or not, worried sister or not. There is no crime here. There is no evidence of foul play." He opened the folder again and brought out a piece of paper that was encased in a plastic bag and labelled as evidence. "This is what Lachlan handed to the teller earlier." He handed it over to her, letting her read for a moment before continuing on to describe what was in it. "It’s a letter, from Hilde. It gives clear instructions as to what to do with the money as well as appointing Lachlan as her certified agent." Anthony tapped the piece of paper as Amanda put it back down on the desk, unable to read beyond the first few lines before devolving into incomprehension. "I don’t know about you, but these are actually very clear instructions. Very clever ones too. Not to mention nicely couched in legalese. That made me wonder thoug--"

"Our mother used to be a lawyer." Amanda interrupted, already figuring out Anthony’s theory. "We had a lot of legal books in the house as children. And my sister did a stint as a typist for mum’s firm when she was in high school."

"Ah." Anthony nodded clearly disappointed.

"It would have pointed to a different person having written it, wouldn’t it?" Amanda said weakly, going back to try to read the letter. She wanted to fight against it, see it as a forgery. But even without her sister’s lazy signature at the bottom, a stylized ’h’ and a lazily sloped ’redding’ all in small letters, she would have recognized the letter as her sisters. The turn of phrase was distinctly hers. Legalese in places was cold and sounded more like their mother talking through Hilde’s pen, or in this case, printed letters. But the instructions were staccato, short and truncated in places. It was basically an ordered, if descriptive list, written in prose. "But this is hers. This is from her."

"Our lab found your sister’s fingerprints on that." Anthony said slowly, pointing down to the bottom of the page. It was as if it was picked up and read, proofread possibly, by her sister. "Again, Lachlan denied it all." Anthony let out a long exasperated sigh. "Truth be told, we could have taken them in, for obstructing a police investigation. But that really would not achieve anything at this point."

Amanda felt ill, staring down at the sloped loops of her sister’s signature. "You think my sister staged this all."

"Look, hey, Amanda, look at me." Once she did she saw him leaning forward again, intent on her. "I am not sure what’s going on here and who and what and the whys. I’m in the dark. But!" he held out a finger, mirroring her earlier imperious gesture at him. "What I am sure of is this : Whatever is going on with your sister, Spero and Wales know about it. I am not sure if they’re involved but I would bet my damn pension that they know something about it."

Anthony’s fervent and hushed statements did not sit well in Amanda, and she curled into herself, wrapping her arms around herself as she listened to him. "They wouldn’t do that to me." She said softly, unable to voice the rest of that statement. They wouldn’t do that to me, she insisted in her mind, my sister would not do that to me.

Anthony’s mouth was set in a grim line, watching her closely and quietly for a moment before speaking again. "Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s a secret thing that only friends would share. I don’t know." He shrugged. "But thing is, they will not speak to me. And locking them up for a few days would not loosen their tongues, I know when people are resolute in their ways."

"And so?" Amanda asked, looking at him in confusion.

Anthony shook his head. "I don’t know. There is something bigger here. And we’re only seeing the shark’s fin." he swallowed thickly. "But Amanda, you have to be careful. Something isn’t right here. And I think it goes beyond just some dodgy money in your sister’s account and lying friends"

He looked at her sharply, so intently that she could not look away. “I need you to ask yourself Amanda. Do you really know these people you call your friends?”

+

As I said before, Warheit acted quite commendably. He was persistent. And even after he sent Amanda home from that, he continued on the case, despite what he had said previously.

This was one more instance where Miss Amanda refused to elaborate beyond the most obvious. Unlike in the previous time, I did not press. What more could she say at this point, when one’s paradigm is forced to shift. Colourfully, one could say that Miss Amanda’s world changed.

But then, wouldn’t this encounter trace it’s beginnings to the weekend Hilde went missing?

Or even before that, when Hilde first approached Polly with an idea?

Or even further, when Hilde and Polly and Lachlan met a nun in the gardens of St Hildegard’s with a proposition?

Or even further, when Hilde was six and peering at the corner, eyes wide and frightened, barely even daring to breathe, watching in incomprehensible fear as the blood splashed from the altar to the stone floor?

But in going back further, I find myself getting ahead of myself. Suffice it to say, it had not been a good week for Miss Amanda.

And unfortunately, it was not about to get any better from there.

+

Next Chapter: New Chapter