‘So, you think my father loved me?’ As Vicki spoke, she met Leighton’s gaze.

‘Yes, I’m sure he loved you, very much.’

‘Maybe, but he never said so. I mean, he called me “sweetheart,” but never anything sincere.’

‘That might be true.’ Leighton conceded. ‘But, did you always tell your father how you felt?’

Vicki reluctantly shook her head, and chewed on her bottom lip.

‘We don’t always say what we feel. That’s the messed-up thing about humans.’

There was a moment of silence, in which they both felt the rich comfort of each other’s presence.

‘No, I guess not. So, you want a fresh beer?’ Vicki held up her empty bottle.

‘I’m good here, thanks.’ Leighton smiled, and patted his stomach.

‘Mind if I do?’

‘Not at all.’

Vicki leapt up, leaving Leighton dipping some more fried food into a circular tub of chilli sauce. When she returned, she held two more beers. Ignoring Leighton’s protests, she handed him one, and flopped on to the sofa beside him.

‘So, you came over here to apologise, eh?’

‘Yeah, I over-reacted. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you.’

‘Thanks. Consider yourself forgiven. Tofu works every time.’

‘Listen, Vicki, I also found out some stuff that paints a different light on the case.’

‘What, about Laurie?’

‘I can fill you in later. You have enough to deal with now.’

‘Leighton,’ Vicki said firmly, ‘God knows I need a distraction now more than ever.’

He looked at her for a long moment. ‘Well, I asked a friend to get me the CCTV camera footage of the bus you saw arrive at the depot. Did you see the front of the bus that afternoon?’

‘Yeah, I mean, I think so.’

‘Can you remember what it said?’

‘Not really,’ Vicki said, as she rubbed her temple. ‘San Diego, San Francisco, maybe.’

Leighton picked up the envelope from the floor beside him, took out a photograph, and handed to Vicki. ‘Was this the bus you saw?

Vicki peered at the black and white image for a moment, and nodded.

‘Well, the thing is that this bus has “San Diego” displayed on the front, but it never went there, or to any of the places en route there.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Traffic Control cameras cover the entire city. My friend obtained images from thirty-two cameras covering the routes north and south for the hour following the departure of that bus from the depot. Only those cameras covering the bus depot captured that bus.’

‘So, maybe, it’s still here, in the city?’

‘Maybe, but I believe your bus showed up at Oceanside, then turned right around again.’

‘But, why would it do that?’

‘Well, the section of road up to Vegas isn’t covered by any cameras.’

‘No, I mean, why would it do that?’

‘If something bad had happened…’

‘Like what?’ Vicki locked her unblinking eyes on to Leighton’s. ‘I want you to say it.’

Leighton looked to the open patio window, where the rhythmic waves continued their infinite motion. When he looked back, he found Vicki’s eyes still fixed on his, demanding honesty.

‘Like something bad happening on the bus,’ he said quietly.

‘What might that bad thing be?’

‘I don’t know,’ Leighton said.

‘A murder, possibly?’

‘Yes.’ He eventually nodded. ‘It is possible.’

Leighton cleared the plates, cartons, and empty bottles to the kitchen area. Vicki brought her laptop and a pad of lined paper to the low coffee table. She sat on the floor and booted up the system.

‘Okay, where do we start?’ she said purposefully.

Leighton returned from the kitchen and sat beside her.

‘I’m not sure. What do you think?’ Leighton frowned, as he locked his fingers together beneath his chin.

‘You’re the cop!’

‘I used to be,’ he corrected.

‘Okay, retired cop, whatever. Where would you start, if this was your “official case,” given what you know already?’

Leighton looked intently at the photographs. They were stacked in a neat pile, with the uppermost image being that of the front of the bus. Given the quality of the image, it was impossible to make out the licence plate, which, in any case, would probably be false.

‘We need to connect the bus to a person or persons. What about the web page you called up, advertising the service? Would a commercial company create that – someone on record?’

‘Not likely, it was just a page. However, I might be able to trace who the domain is registered to.’

‘The what?’

‘You know, how every website has an address - the “www” bit?’

Leighton rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not that far behind the times.’

‘Good,’ Vicki said, as she began typing into her laptop. ‘In order to use that address a site creator has to register his or her site. If I can reveal how the site was created, I might be able to find a name.’

‘Okay, what should I do, while you’re working your technological voodoo?’

‘Make some coffee. Then, figure out why someone would use an entire bus to abduct one young woman.’

Leighton nodded, then quietly did as he was told. He knew there was an expanding virtual universe which one day would engulf him, but, for the moment, he intended to stay away from that place as long as possible. Despite his urge to take a lead role in the hunt for Laurie Taylor, he was content to take a step back, and allow Vicki to perform her alchemy – turning digital bytes into information he could use in the real world.

He returned, cups in hand, to find Vicki had used a short cable to connect a small flat metal box to her computer.

‘What’s that do?’ he asked as he sat beside her.

‘It’s the memory from Laurie’s laptop. The original website has been taken down, but I can access a snapshot of it still held in the temporary files.’

‘Like our memories?’

‘Yeah, pretty much. Only this one doesn’t fade with time.’

For a moment, Leighton and Vicki glanced at each other and felt the shared connection of unspoken loss.

The spell was broken, as Vicki looked back at the laptop, clicked on a couple of buttons, and launched a program called “Sniffer.” Within a few seconds, rows of numbers began racing across the screen. Moments later, a list of web pages opened in a new window. Vicki ran her cursor down them, and clicked on the bottom one, causing the Route King checkout page to open.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘This is the bus company page, so let’s see if we can link to it a person.’

She clicked on the window and the picture vanished, only to be replaced by rows of numbers and words.

‘What’s happened?’ Leighton leaned suddenly forward. ‘Have you lost it?’

‘No.’ Vicki smirked. ‘It’s meant to do that. I’m viewing it as code.’

‘Ah.’ Leighton pretended to understand.

Peering at the screen, Vicki began to tap furiously on the keyboard. She slowly shook her head. ‘Damn! There’s nothing here to indicate who authored the site. But, it does provide some data.’

‘What about the “www” address part, does that help?’

‘Not really, it’s usually bogus.’

‘That list you were looking at first, does that show the pages in the order Laurie viewed them?’

‘Yeah, why?’

‘Well, in previous cases where the situation was unclear, I would walk the path of the victim. Find out what they did on that final day. Retrace the route. Maybe we could take a virtual walk through?’

‘Sure.’

Viewing the pages revealed Laurie had initially visited the website of her alma mater, possibly reliving her student days in a bout of nostalgia. The next set of pages related to weather and facilities in Oceanside. This made Vicki smile sadly. Finally, she had performed a Google search for buses, and located the Greyhound Coach homepage.

‘I don’t understand this,’ Vicki said as she bit her bottom lip.

‘What?’

‘I don’t see where the Route King’s page came from. I mean she was on the Greyhound page for seven seconds, and then, out of nowhere, this window opened. She didn’t go back to Google – it must have been an automatic pop-up.’