Ghostwriting by Traci Harding

that’s sick?’
    Billie had both eyebrows raised in total amazement. ‘Either you’ve got a fantastic imagination or … you’re on to something? Can you prove any of what you claim?’
    Shannon nodded. Her pretty blue eyes were red and swollen from crying and the blank, horrified expression on her face made her look as if she had been possessed. ‘I saw where he buried her.’
    The colour drained from Billie’s face, and she was not easily spooked. ‘And so what if we find her? It’s not like we can take the guy to trial for murder.’
    â€˜Don’t you see? We have to take Katlin back to Ireland and bury her in County … whatever it was in the letter.’
    â€˜Now hold on a goddamn second,’ Billie felt compelled to protest. ‘There is no fucking way that I am flying to fucking Ireland with a goddamn fucking corpse in my luggage!’
    â€˜Fine.’ Shannon stood. ‘I’ll do it myself.’ She moved to head upstairs, but Billie gripped her arm.
    â€˜This is not your property, Shannon,’ she cautioned her. ‘If there are any corpses here, they belong to Simon.’
    â€˜I’ll only dig in one tiny spot, and then I promise to clean up when I’m done. Satisfied?’ Shannon glared at her friend, and then realised they were having an argument. ‘Sorry. It was just so terrible to witness.’ Shannon tried to explain her irrational state. ‘He raped Katlin before he murdered her,’ she muttered, her jaw clenched to contain her disgust and anger. ‘But then, he probably abused her all of their married life. Perhaps, in the end, it was a relief for Katlin to know it would be the last time he’d impose himself upon her.’ Shannon looked away, lost in the memory of what she’d seen.
    â€˜I’ll help you dig.’
    Shannon looked up to find Billie appearing decidedly more determined, and Shannon smiled in appreciation.
    â€˜If we find a skeleton,’ Billie proffered, ‘then we’ll decided what should be done about it.’
    Â 
    The next morning, with spades, a pick, a bucket and a wheelbarrow, Shannon and Billie set out from the pool-house to find Katlin’s last resting place. Billie pushed the barrow with all the gear in it and Shannon retraced Heartley’s criminal path.
    â€˜Down past those rocks is a clearing surrounded by trees,’ Shannon advised, bounding off down the leaf strewn slope of clay and rock to see if she was correct.
    Billie decided to take a break from pushing the barrow; if Shannon was leading them on a wildgoose chase she’d save herself the chore of having to push the barrow back up the hill.
    â€˜Fuck me!’
    The words were alarming to Billie as Shannon rarely swore with any conviction. Billie left the barrow and headed off down the slope, through the trees and into the clearing. In the direction Shannon was looking was a tall sandstone rockface. There hadn’t been any rain for a few days and the bushland was dry as a bone, and yet on the tall rockface was a clear watermark forming the initials, KO.
    Billie was awestruck. She came to a standstill next to Shannon.
    â€˜You do see that?’ Shannon queried, without taking her eyes from it.
    â€˜Oh, yeah,’ Billie confirmed. ‘But, ah, shouldn’t it be KH?’
    â€˜Her maiden name was O’Connor,’ Shannon said, having a talent for remembering details. ‘And the man she loved was Timothy O’Mally.’ She shrugged not knowing to which name the ‘O’ referred. ‘The name Heartley never brought her much joy. I don’t blame her for not wanting to use it to identify herself.’
    Shannon approached the rock wall, carefully stepping around one particular patch of ground, and Billie gathered that this was where Katlin was buried. Shannon touched the moisture on the wallthat formed the letters and then tasted a droplet of the