LITMIR.BIZ

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raced to work out a way to find out one, her name, and two, the information that had caused Liam to disappear.

      The Falcon pulled up outside a block of old, red-brick flats. The blonde got out, swung a small bag onto her shoulder, and waited at the low fence for Rogan to park. She then began walking along the path at the side of the building. Rogan caught up to her as she rounded the corner and went into an internal stairwell. When they reached the top of the stairs she picked a key from the set in her hand and stuck it in the lock of the first door.

      Rogan followed her into a living room that promised concussion to the proverbial swinging cat. Even the two cloth armchairs and timber coffee table appeared to be snuggling together to escape being crushed by the walls. The blonde must have seen Rogan's expression. 'It's only a bedsit,' she snapped. 'Freelance journos don't make the same kind of money as lawyers and private investigators.'

      She moved into the kitchen, where two chairs and a small table took up the tiny floor space left by benches, stove and refrigerator. To the side there was a partitioned alcove that Rogan thought must masquerade as a bedroom, and a door that led into a bathroom.

      'Coffee or tea?' the blonde asked as she plonked her bag on the table, switched on an electric kettle and reached into a cupboard for mugs.

      'Coffee's fine, thanks. Milk, one sugar.' Rogan glanced around, desperately seeking something to give him a clue to her name. Several unopened letters sat at one end of the table, and he edged casually around, trying to read the details on the front. The first letter was addressed to C Otten. Halfway there, he thought, and 'accidentally' bumped the stack. As the top letter fell to the side and revealed her full name on the next, he breathed his relief.

      With a nonchalance he was far from feeling, Rogan slid onto one of the vinyl-seated metal chairs. 'So tell me, Carly, have you come across any other leads?'

      Carly Otten shook her head. 'I've been keeping an eye on the sister and uncle since you made like a magician and disappeared. As you know, Paige is between boyfriends and she doesn't seem to have much of a social life. I guess it wouldn't be easy bringing a fellow home to that mausoleum of a house and have James and George give him the once-over. And James seems to divide his time between the institute, the family's private hospital and the Crown Casino.' She laughed, and the lines between her eyes relaxed for a moment. 'You just have to hope his losing streak at the casino doesn't extend to his medical practice, don't you.'

      Rogan's mind raced. He was going to lose control of this situation unless he found out a lot of information in a hurry. One thing he'd learned in the navy - sometimes going on the offensive saved you having to dig yourself out of the shit when you were floundering.

      He picked up the cup of coffee Carly placed in front of him and pretended to be deep in thought for a moment. 'Carly,' he looked at her, 'I think I must have missed something. There must be a clue I'm not seeing. Tell me everything you know about the Montgomery family and especially Breeanna.'

      'Hell, Liam, we've gone through this before. But,' she flicked her hand up, 'if it will help. George Montgomery, wealthy doctor, builds research facility after his first wife dies of cancer four months after their daughter Breeanna is born. Remarries when Breeanna is two years old. Second wife gives birth to Paige, then divorces George five years later and moves to Perth with the child. George sticks Breeanna in boarding school during the week, has her home on weekends.'

      Rogan waited silently as Carly took a sip of her coffee before continuing.

      'Breeanna Montgomery. Thirty-three years old. Did two years of university, took two years off to travel the world. Not,' Carly punctured the air with her forefinger, 'as you might expect someone with her money would do - you know, luxury hotels, guided tours, etc, but bloody backpacking to some of the most miserable places on earth, like Delhi.'

      'Doing the rebel bit, was she?'

      Carly frowned. 'I don't know. From what I can gather she was a fairly solitary child, had few friends, but never went wild like some teenagers. Anyway, when she returned she finished uni and joined the family firm. A couple of years ago she moved out of the family mausoleum into the house her grandparents had owned.'

      There was something disquieting in the picture Carly was painting. Growing up in a large, loving family, Rogan could only guess how the motherless Breeanna must have felt about being pushed into boarding school at such a young age. 'Did Breeanna see much of her stepmother and sister after the divorce?'

      'School holidays, apparently. Which brings us to Paige. She visited her father in Melbourne each year, and two years ago also joined the family firm in a secretarial capacity.'

      'Breeanna and Paige, how did they get along?'

      'From what I've found out, reasonably well. But perhaps Paige is making sure she doesn't miss out on the Montgomery millions.'

      Rogan thought about Paige's reaction to his question about Liam and wondered if Paige had anything to do with Breeanna's disappearance. 'If Breeanna died, would Paige be the only relative left to inherit?'

      'Apart from James.'

      'Tell me all you know about him again.'

      A grim twist to the side of Carly's lips told Rogan she was swiftly losing patience with his questioning, but she resumed her profiling. 'James. Also a doctor. Went to the US, worked in a lab over there, came home, joined the rest of the family in the mausoleum and the research institute but in an administrative capacity.'

      'You mentioned the family private hospital before. Does James practise there too?'

      Carly faltered a moment, and Rogan saw a crack in her super journo veneer. 'I'm not sure. I think he must, he visits there a fair bit. But then, that's where the professor is hospitalised.'

      Rogan remembered what Keith Reynolds had said. The professor had had an accident. 'How's his condition?'

      'How you'd expect someone who had a stroke then got thrown from his car and snapped his neck - lousy.' Carly's tolerance was clearly at an end. 'Now tell me,' she pushed her empty mug aside and leaned towards Rogan, 'did you really not find Breeanna?'

      It was a relief to answer truthfully. 'No.'

      'Damn. I need that interview. I have bills to pay.'

      She stretched back in the chair and put her hands behind her head. The knit top pulled tight over her breasts, and Rogan's next question flew from his mind. He'd had more than enough experience with women to know that Carly was deliberately using her very ample charms to excite his interest, and he wondered if she had been sleeping with Liam. A dismaying thought struck him. Surely Carly wasn't the person Liam had said was the woman of his dreams? Then sanity reasserted itself. If Carly and Liam had had any more interaction than that of business associates, she wouldn't have had to wait for Rogan to follow her into her flat, she would have expected him to know where to go. And Rogan knew that Liam would never take a new woman home to his unit, especially a woman he was seeing in a work capacity.

      He leaned back, moving his hands from his mug. As he did so, his elbow knocked Carly's bag to the floor and the contents spilled across the vinyl. 'Sorry,' he muttered, and bent over to pick them up. Carly slid from her chair to the floor at the same time, and their hands met over her opened wallet. As Carly scrabbled to grab it before he did, Rogan noticed the photo behind a plastic cover inside.

      'Nice-looking kid,' he commented on the miniature version of Carly in the photo. 'Your daughter?'

      Pain flickered briefly in her eyes and she quickly gathered the wallet, notepad, pen and tissues and shoved them back in the bag. When she sat back on the chair her face was once more set in the self-contained, almost hard, expression she'd worn since he'd met her. But Rogan was intrigued. He had caught a glimpse of vulnerability that seemed at odds with her brash, confrontational manner. Perhaps she wasn't quite the pain in the arse she appeared to be.

      Before he could explore the idea further, his mobile phone rang.

      The surveillance camera refocused from the back of Carly Otten's head to the face of Rogan McKay as he spoke on his mobile phone.

      Vaughn

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