“We have a warrant to search land and property belonging to Winston at Corbet’s Landing, along with any vehicles that may be on-site. Two teams are in position and currently surround the cabin. We’ve had eyes on the ground since yesterday. There’s no movement at his home from our intel, but if Winston is on-site, you are to negotiate a surrender without a kill, unless you’re in immediate danger,” Roland instructs, turning his eyes to mine. “Our main priority here is locating Morgan Banks alive.”
“And this is what we’ve learnt from Morgan and the GPS PING in place. She’s in bushland, land at Corbet’s Landing. The GPS has narrowed this vast landscape down to a radius of one hundred hectares. We’re looking specifically for a large rock wall that has a huge boulder on at least one side. During the last contact I made with Morgan, she informed me this was where she was hiding. However, that was more than eighteen hours ago now, and due to the weather, she most likely repositioned. We’ll have four teams in total moving through this scrub. Two that are already in position, and the two teams we'll form here this morning.” I scan my eyes over the many stern faces. “Your mission: to tackle each direction of this land mass, and continue inwards until we’ve covered all ground.”
Gleaton steps forward. “You all know the team you’re assigned to. Let’s gear up and meet out back.”
“Let’s get this done. Four teams. Blue and red are our two teams. Yellow and green are the two teams squatting in wait. You’ll respond to these colour codes only for radio contact. Turn your radio station off the main dispatch channel and switch to station ninety-one.” I pause, looking at the many nodding heads. “Move out.”
Eager feet march down the ramp and towards the police vehicles.
“You all know where you need to go. Remember, team blue, you’ll be searching the house, vehicles, and the other two teams, currently lying in wait, searching the surrounding property. Team red, you’ll stop on the way out and come in through the bush, make sure to approach with caution. After this task is complete, we’ll break into our four teams and cover the PING location from the GPS. No stone, rock, or fucking blade of grass gets left unchecked. We find Morgan. This ends today,” I shout.
“Yes, sir,” they reply in unison.
I slide into my car just as Roland does, and without a minute to fasten my seatbelt, I shift the car into gear and pull out in front of all other vehicles. Roland leans forward, flicking the switch that controls the siren, and as the noise wails into the dead of the night, I press my foot flat on the accelerator.
I will find Morgan. I will bring her home.
She will be alive.
Reid
Over an hour has passed and still no word. I can’t fucking breathe.
“Your coffee’s gone cold.” Cruise presses his lips into a hard line.
“Can’t stomach anything.” I sigh.
“That’s the sixth cup I’ve made you since I came downstairs. I think I’ll just tip this down the sink and give up on the coffee-making.”
I shrug. “Yeah.”
My yellow surf tee, the one Cruise now wears, tapers at the back when he carries the mug into the kitchen. There’s no doubt he’s more muscular than I am, the T-shirt at least one size too small. His waist narrows like my own, yet the boardshorts he’s borrowed suction to his larger thighs. Linda’s right—Cruise and I do look very much alike, apart from this slight size difference, and there’s no mistaking us for siblings. I guess it’s only natural. Siblings do often look alike …
Wait.
What if Winston isn’t Winston?
What if his brother Falcon has been masquerading as him this whole time?
My mind races. Cruise and I could pull off a stunt like that if we ever needed to. Linda said Winston and Falcon had many similarities, and the two resembled each other. It would give him motivation.
And if my theory was right, it meant he’d killed before—likely his own flesh and blood.
Wait, what am I thinking? I’m jumping to conclusions.
What if Morgan was dead.
Did any of it matter?
Water dripping from the tap onto the metal sink gives me the urge to pee, so I pull myself up from the stool and make a beeline for the hallway leading to the downstairs toilet.
Tap, tap, tap.
I back pedal at the soft sound of tapping coming from the back door.
The automatic porch light is on.
I hesitate in my approach and shuffle until I see her.
Grey hair wraps around curlers. Thin-framed glasses sit on the bridge of her nose. A purple shawl hangs from her shoulders. Shirley. Oh shit. Are the kids okay?
I fling the door open and rush towards her as she stands on the back patio. “Shirley, are the kids okay? What’s wrong? Where’s John?”
Her finger is pressed against her lips. “Shhh.” She looks frightened. Her finger trembles against her mouth. “Inside.”
It’s all she says.
I take her hand, helping her in from the dark.
“Who’s here? Are they awake?” Shirley’s eyes move in every direction.
“Cruise is awake. He’s the only one apart from me. Shirley, what’s wrong?” My heartrate accelerates, and my hands are instantly clammy.
Shirley steps away from me.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Oh, Reid.” Her lips quiver as tears leak from her eyes.
“Shirley.”
“John … he … There was … Reid.” She drops her head.
It takes every ounce of strength I have to stop myself from marching the small gap between us and clutching her arms. I want to shake Shirley. I'm so frightened I want to shake whatever it is she’s trying to tell me out of her mouth.
“You need to get the detectives here. I know where Morgan is.”
I stumble. I stumble backwards. My legs weaken until I almost fall on my knees. I clutch the material of my T-shirt between my strained fingers, over top of my heart. Morgan. Shirley knows where Morgan is.
“Please,” I beg her to put me out of my misery right here, right now.
“You need to tell the police. I’m sorry.” Shirley shakes her head as she wraps her hands around herself in what I believe is protection.
“How? Where? How do you …” I can’t spit out what I need to say because I’m in shock, so much shock.
“I heard John on the phone, Reid. Oh my God, what has he done? I don’t know what he’s done.”
I puff out my chest when anger rips through my body like a cyclone reaching land. “Tell me everything,” I snap. My temper is clutched behind my teeth, barely trapped, about to break like a thin thread held above a flame.
“She’s dead.” Shirley’s tears fall rapidly as her shoulders shake. “I heard John say Morgan’s name when he was on the phone. I heard him ask about where her body would go. Reid, I don’t know who he was talking to, but he told whoever it was to burn down the cabin because he couldn’t be traced back to Morgan’s abduction.” Shirley whimpers as she uses the back of her trembling hands to wipe her tears away. “He said, if you don’t do it I will. Reid, John knew who had Morgan and where she was the whole time. I heard him. I heard him.” Her voice rises.
Every pound of my heart has me panting. The kids. Holy shit! I’m seething—seeing red. I want to march across the grass between our two properties so I can grab that backstabbing prick John, and throw him up against the wall. I’ll beat him within an inch of his life to get the information needed to get to Morgan. I must also keep our children safe.
My fingers fold inwards until my fists squeeze so tightly they shake.
“She’s at Corbet’s Landing. She’s at the cabin you’ve been to with John when you helped him build that extra carport we needed.”
“Where are my kids?”
“I promise they’re fine. They’re sound asleep. John doesn’t know I heard him. I promise you, he doesn’t know.”
“John.” I spit his name from my tongue like venom that’s invaded my mouth.
“He’s asleep,” she cries. “I waited until he went to sleep.”
“What’s going on? Shirley, why are you crying? Reid. Brother. Oh no. What’s happened?” I didn't hear Cruise’s approach, but when I glance to my right, there he is. “Don’t do anything stupid, brother. Relax. Just relax.”
I give Cruise a murderous glare. The light from the patio brings some light into the open area.
“Shirley, go home. Climb into bed and do nothing.”