‘Great to meet you, Gemma.’ Emerald eyes held mine steadily. His accent was like music. I’d never heard anything quite like it.
‘Yes.’ I couldn’t think of anything else to say. A vague waft of Ben’s vomit was coming from somewhere on me and I just wanted to bolt to the bathroom so I could freshen up. Or hide.
‘Well, good. Coffee’s that way,’ said Jonesy, pointing to the kitchenette before disappearing into his office.
Everyone else slowly returned to their desks, a few final smirks directed my way.
‘Well,’ said Felix McKinnon.
‘Well,’ I repeated.
‘How about …’ We both started talking at the same time.
‘I know somewhere good for coffee,’ I said. ‘Perhaps we can go there now and I can tell you all about this place. Just give me a few minutes.’
He nodded and I walked away from him towards the bathroom, blood in my ears, my heart pounding.
Chapter Forty-four
Monday, 21 December, 9.47 pm
It feels very strange to be standing in my kitchen watching half the station pour over my backyard in the fading light. I watch one of the techs bag something and I almost walk out and demand to see what it is. I know what to do in this scenario, have worked a case like this several times, but I am glad not to have to move right now. My legs ache, it’s a miracle I’m still standing, and every time I focus, tiny dots appear and wriggle in circles like unformed tadpoles. Thank god, thank god, thank god. I glance over at my son. Scott has refused to let Ben go, aside from a customary check from the ambulance worker that Jonesy insisted on.
Ben couldn’t tell us anything useful. He talked about a nice lady called ‘Grandma’ but could offer nothing further. Once he saw us he was fine. Overtired and clingy, but fine. Now he is slumped asleep on Scott’s shoulder. Scott is jammed into one of our old counter chairs wedged against the kitchen table, stroking Ben’s curly hair as he stares into space. They are the white chess pieces and I am the black. The red rose that was pinned to the back of Ben’s jumper is now lying bagged on the table.
She is dead and I still can’t escape her.
Jonesy bursts into the kitchen and lets out a deep, tired sigh. ‘Right, well, as far as we can tell, Ben’s been brought back here via the nature reserve behind your house and let in through the unlocked back gate. We’re assuming that the person who took him from the day-care centre is the same person who left him in the yard.’
‘Description?’ I say.
For the first time since we found Ben, Scott looks up at me.
‘I’ve got one of the boys with the day-care girl now doing a sketch, but from what she said we’re looking at a middle-aged woman, probably around fifty but could be younger. Long brownish red hair. Slim. Softly spoken. No obvious accent. Average height. Well-dressed. One of those suit tops that women wear sometimes. Nothing else notable.’
‘CCTV?’
Jonesy smirks. ‘Of course there’s no bloody CCTV. Do you think anyone around here actually takes security seriously? They’re worse than the bloody school. The only camera they have is in the staff car park round the back. Don’t worry, Cloud Hill will be having a serious review of its security as a result of this.’
‘So there’s no footage, no record, nothing. Did she sign something? Say anything else?’
Jonesy clears his throat and, for some reason, today I find the sound comforting. Ben lifts his head slightly then drops it back onto Scott’s chest. I notice a small ring of sweat forming on Scott’s shirt under Ben’s head. Ben is always so hot when he sleeps.
‘She signed the book, the standard roll thing. But it’s just a scrawl. The name written is Edith Bower but I assume that’s just random. Mean anything to you?’
I shake my head.
Jonesy looks at Scott but he shakes his head too. ‘No. I’m sure I don’t know that name.’
Jonesy grimaces. ‘Well, something might turn up on the road cameras. We’re pulling everything we can get from this afternoon. Unfortunately, once the driver hit the bottom of the hill they could have gone anywhere.’ He gestures to our yard. ‘And there are no cameras in that bushland, we checked.’
Matthews comes in from outside. ‘I think we’re done. We’ve searched the yard and a large stretch of the reserve but we don’t think we’ve found anything. We’re dusting the gate and looking for footprints but it’s so dry we don’t expect to find much. If the suspect was wearing gloves or wiped the surfaces down, there will be nothing on the gate. It’s a tough one.’
‘Have you spoken to the neighbours yet?’ I say.
‘Sure. Phil’s over there now. The lady on the left saw nothing but we’re working our way up the street.’
I look at Ben again, his mouth slightly open as he breathes sweetly. I try not to break in half all over again.
‘Thank you.’
Matthews nods at me with unfamiliar kindness. ‘At least it all worked out. You won’t be letting him out of your sight for a while, no doubt.’
I am painfully aware of our shabby carpet. The cheap décor and un-mown lawn. I haven’t even offered anyone a drink.
‘Do you want water or—’
Jonesy cuts me off. ‘Now listen, we’ll leave you alone to be a family.’ He pulls his pants high around his gut. ‘Woodstock, you let me know if you need some time off. We’ll discuss what this means for the case tomorrow. We’ll probably need to talk to both of you again. Tonight, get some sleep.’
Panic rises at the thought of being taken off the case. ‘But, sir …’
‘No, Woodstock, I’m not talking about this now. Rest. I mean it. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
I nod and slump, exhausted. There is no more fight left in me. Outside Felix is walking across the yard. He stops when he sees me, dips his head and then keeps walking. I turn back to Scott.
‘I’m just glad Ben is safe and sound where he belongs,’ says Jonesy. ‘You two look after yourselves now, alright?’
‘Yes, sir,’ I say.
Scott nods and smiles weakly at Jonesy.
The yard clears out. I close the blinds. I want to speak to Felix but it’s impossible to see him tonight. I have no idea what to write in a text message or an email.
Scott hasn’t moved.
‘Do you want something to eat? I can cook some pasta.’
There is a flash in the corner of my eye as the microwave clock flips over. I think maybe Scott hasn’t heard me.
‘Are you hungry?’
‘I think Ben should sleep in our bed tonight,’ he says.
‘Of course. That’s a good idea.’
He shifts his weight, careful not to wake Ben. ‘I do need to eat. I shouldn’t have driven before. I had four or five beers and then left as soon as you called me. I meant to stay and sober up.’ He jerks out a laugh. ‘Pretty funny that my house is crawling with cops and I drive here pissed.’
I don’t say anything. Words close in my throat, choking me. The clock on the wall has stopped. I squint to look at it properly and then jump when the second hand moves again.