Perfect Victim Read Online Free Page B

girl, the story in the Age . He knew about this because of the contact from the Richmond police. He said somebody from the Box Hill police would visit the dance school later in the morning.
    Our first contact with Neil Paterson of the Missing Persons Unit was at around this time. Neil was very helpful. He phoned to say that at this early stage the unit could not do anything. But he did sound concerned for Rachel and said he would contact the police station to see that everything that could be done would be done. He said it wasn’t possible for the Richmond police to transfer the investigation because this was the responsibility of the officer to whom it was reported. I persisted. ‘Could I perhaps go to the Box Hill police to take it off them? Then I could make a fresh report with the Richmond police.’ The answer was that it didn’t work like that.
    It rained on Wednesday morning. We said goodbye to Ashleigh-Rose and Heather. Said we’d do our best to find their sister. I rang work, for a second time, and explained that Rachel had not come home. Said I must look for her. They wished us the very best and would be thinking of us. Told us to keep positive.
    Yes, our daughter was living, somewhere. She was not dead. We would find her. We must find her. How could our daydreaming butterfly cease to exist?
    We searched through the back streets of Richmond again. Down small streets, hidden behind Bridge Road shops and bluestone churches. Streets only wide enough for single lanes of traffic. Tiny single-storey terraced houses with rusting tin roofs, flaking paint and collapsed front veranda posts. Battered red and navy vinyl chairs sitting by themselves on front porches.
    ‘Rachel, Rachel, RACHEL!’ Two parents calling, for their first-born, walking down each side of the lanes. An odd sensation. So much of Rachel’s disappearance was surreal. We were beginning to live a life that should not have belonged to us.
    Looking over fences. Walking through into unit carparks.
    For the first time Mike began to open dump bins.
    ‘Don’t do that!’ I snapped. The thought was too final.
    ‘Elizabeth, I must.’ Pause. ‘If she’s been grabbed … someone may have dumped her bag.’
    Some time later we gave up looking and returned to the dance school, hoping the Box Hill police were doing their bit. Vicki, the dance teacher, was distressed. The police had not been to visit. Vicki had called the Richmond police twice this Wednesday morning, to inform them the Box Hill police had not arrived. We were all trying desperately to make someone notice.
    Vicki suggested I ring Neil Paterson again.
    Once again Neil sounded sympathetic. He repeated what the Box Hill police had said – generally speaking ninety-seven per cent of missing people turn up within forty-eight hours. And if not, at least by the end of five days.
    I thought, so that’s it. The police will get serious after five days. She should have been the daughter of a Prime Minister or been related to someone wealthy and famous. It didn’t matter she was our daughter. She didn’t warrant enough attention. Rachel’s life was cheap. To them she was just some fifteen-year-old kid who had decided to clear off for a few days. Well, that’s how it seemed anyway.
    Neil had been concerned about the old female friend story and suggested we start writing down the names of Rachel’s friends. Not just present friends but old school friends. So the first of many lists began.
    I found it difficult to remember all her friends’ surnames so it was suggested I ring Canterbury Girls Secondary College. I rang and explained Rachel had been missing since Monday night and although Rachel had not been a student for the last six months could they perhaps provide me with a list of her friends’ surnames. I was told they could not give out this information and suggested I ring the local police to make the request.
    I put the phone down, understanding their situation, and phoned the Box Hill police.