“Miriama’s never been young in the head or the heart.” Matilda’s face twisted, but she managed to hold back a fresh wave of tears. “Maybe because of how small she was when her world turned so ugly. When I think of her in that motel room with ­Kahurangi…” This time, she couldn’t stop the tears.

Wiping them off with the back of her hand, she took a restorative sip of coffee, then carried on. “Miri’s always liked older men. Not old enough to be her father or anything, but men who are settled in life, solid as a kauri tree against the wind. Had the worst crushes on her teachers in school, but I brought her up better than to ever do anything about it.”

Will had witnessed a much older ­man—­midfifties or ­over—­hit on Miriama. He’d later discovered that same man had once taught Miriama at high school. She was only nineteen and a half now. It wasn’t a stretch to think that, student or not, certain men would’ve taken advantage of her given any indication of interest.

“Other boys and men she dated,” Matilda said, “lot of them saw her as a trophy, like she was a pet, or a piece of pottery they’d bought from Sita’s fancy store. But Dr. de Souza, he loves her. I know he’ll treat her right.”

Will wondered why Dominic hadn’t mentioned his plans to ­propose—­then again, why would the man think to do so when his girlfriend was missing? Dominic was probably praying she’d turn up alive and well so he could carry off his proposal exactly as he’d planned. “Did Miriama ever go out with anyone else in the Cove?”

“Not really.” Matilda hugged the mug with tight hands. “She’s seen how nasty it can get when people break up in a town this small. She got lucky and never had that with her first boyfriend. That was Te Ariki, Ngaio’s boy. He and Miriama were together for two years, broke it off when they were both fifteen or sixteen. No hard feelings there.”

Will knew one Te Ariki in Golden Cove. “He’s the one who goes out on the big fishing trawlers?”

Matilda nodded. “You probably know him because he tends to get carried away when he comes off the boat and home with a paycheck in his pocket.” An affectionate smile. “That’s about as bad as he gets, Will. He gives most of his pay to his mother to feed the littlies, parties hard with the rest, then goes out and works even harder. He and Miri catch up for a drink every time he’s in town.”

Will thought back to his conversation with the doctor. “Does Dominic know about their relationship?”

“Miriama invited him along the last time she met Te Ariki.” Matilda looked at Will. “I think Dr. de Souza was jealous before he saw them together, the way men are when they think an old lover is trying to horn his way back in. But there’s nothing like that with Te Ariki.”

Regardless of Matilda’s take on things, Will made a note to follow up with the fisherman. It was possible that once Te Ariki realized how serious things were between Dominic and Miriama, he’d changed his mind about what he’d given up.

“Is there anything else you can think of, Matilda? Even things that you feel uncomfortable talking about? I need to know.”

Matilda sighed. “You’re wondering about Steve, but he really couldn’t have hurt my ­girl—­he was in the house when I got home just after six and he never left.” A worn face staring at the chipped and scratched wall across from them. “I know he looks at her in a way he shouldn’t, but Miriama’s strong. She can defend herself if he loses his mind and tries anything.”

Will found it truly difficult to understand Matilda. That she loved Miriama with every bone in her body was true. Also true was that she seemed incapable of removing the residential threat to her beloved niece.

In this case, however, Steve did appear to have an unassailable alibi. Strange blind spot or not, Matilda wouldn’t lie for Steve when Miriama was missing. “Any secrets in the past?” he asked, his brain wanting to fill out the ephemeral outline of that mysterious former lover. “Anything that could’ve come back to haunt Miriama?”

Matilda didn’t ask him why he was digging so deep for what was a missing person case that most probably involved an accident; she was the one who’d brought up the missing hikers. Some part of her knew things weren’t looking good for the girl she’d raised as her own.

“She has been a little distracted lately,” she said, “but you’d be, too, if you were moving to Wellington after growing up here. I think she’s just getting her head in order. My girl is going to make something of herself. She’s going to come home and then she’s going to fly.”

20

The last thing Will saw as he walked out of the fire station and into the cold chill of a day that was now utterly devoid of sunlight was Matilda crying quietly behind hands she’d raised up to her face. He nearly went back, but something about the way she sat, her body turned so that she was no longer facing the front, told him she wouldn’t appreciate the company.

Her grief was private, her worry a lonely vigil.

And for all that Matilda was glad he was looking for her niece, Will remained an outsider. Quite unlike the ­dark-­eyed woman who jumped out of the small black truck that had just come to a stop in front of the fire station.

Anahera wore the same knit cap he’d seen on her yesterday, a dark gray one that looked to be handmade. Below that was an olive green anorak. “Any news?” she asked as her search partner, a lanky youth who worked as a supermarket clerk alongside Matilda, came around the vehicle to join them.

Will shook his head. “You’d better mark off your search route.” Waiting 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?”