“You just couldn’t be what you were supposed to be, Morgan.” His voice plays from the boom box on the ground in front of me, the same one that’s been playing the song. “These bitches weren’t what they were supposed to be either.” There’s a long pause. “This is what happens to thieves, traitors, and whores … they get their punishment.”
I scrunch my fists together and raise them in front of my face.
“I knew you wouldn’t run, but I wish you had. You’re going to wish you did, too.”
“Fuuuuuck!” I scream as I’m pulled down like the earth is swallowing me whole from below my feet. I’m falling.
Wrapped in a blanket of darkness, my body bounces from side to side. I roll before I’m upright once more. I reach out my arms like Jesus on the cross and dig my nails into what feels like compacted soil.
“Oh God, oh God,” I cry out. “Ouuuuch.” I cry harder as I feel my nails peel away from my flesh. I flip over myself. I flip again … thud.
I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.
There’s a halo of light in the distance. A blurry tattered curtain sways with a gusting wind that rushes through the ripped material and brings a coolness to my limbs. At first, it’s pleasant, welcomed. Then it freezes cold and burns. It’s burning me. I try to move from its path, but I can’t even lift my head. I’m a lump of lead, one too heavy to carry or shift. I feel trapped in my own body with my mind racing, ordering a million commands, my body unable to follow a single one.
“Help.” It’s a weak deliverance of the word, spoken so quietly even I barely hear myself.
“Morgan. Morgan.” The call of my name sounds laced with worry. “Baby, you’re not alone. I’m here. I’m with you.”
“Reid.” I can smell his cologne. I can feel his fingertip tracing a line down my cheek.
“Yes. I’m here.” He’s cradling my head.
There’s warmth, so much warmth fighting away the cold I'm experiencing, and the sound of my heart beating is loud but slow. I relax into him.
“You can’t give up. Promise me you won’t give up.”
I cry, beads of liquid tickle my lips.
“Don’t cry, Morgan. Please don’t cry.” Soft pillows press to my forehead. “I’ve got you. Don’t cry.”
“Reid.” I flick my eyes upwards in their sockets, almost rolling them into the back of my head. One painful thump accompanies this action.
“Close your eyes. Take a moment. Rest. You need rest.”
“Reid,” I cry out once more.
“Morgan. Sleep. You need your strength.” My fingers are stretched wide, and then I feel his fingers slipped between mine. “I’ll stay with you. I’ll guard you while you sleep. Nothing will happen. You trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathe as I allow my eyelids to fall closed, and I listen to every slow drawn-out breath he takes.
“I’m waiting for you, Morgan. I’m searching for you. We’re doing everything we can to find you. I won’t let you down, baby. Please don’t give up on me.”
“I won’t,” I mumble as I feel my shoulders drop and my limbs lighten. I’m no longer lead. I’m free … floating … at rest.
“Morgan. Wake up. You need to wake up now.” It’s a panicked request. Reid’s breathing is rapid. His hands are rough. They pull me and shake me.
“Reid?”
I bolt upright. I'm panting, searching ... It’s so dark.
Where the hell am I?
Reid
The mattress of our bed takes my weight. I sit staring out the bedroom window, thoughts running through my head as I eye the well-manicured grass of the neighbouring property across from us. What must our neighbours think of all of this? They’re probably concerned.
“Morgan. Where are you?” I say as if she could answer. She can’t. Was she anywhere near a television to see the interview? Does she know we’re searching for her? Does she know how much I love her? I fucked up when I kissed Linda, I did, and I fucked my marriage. If I’d not been so cowardly, and I’d just opened up and been honest with Morgan … explained the innocence of the situation, I believe over time Morgan would have forgiven me. I made a mistake—a drunken mistake. You’re gutless, Reid.
I hear the en-suite door slide open. I jerk my neck and fling my body around to face that direction. “John,” I say. I'm surprised I had no idea he was in there.
“Reid, how are you holding up?” He’s wearing his denim coveralls, the ones he dresses in when I help him with maintenance.
“Why? What? John.”
He places the small toolbox he has in his hand on the carpet in front of him. “I was using the bathroom before, while you were doing the interview. The downstairs loo door was locked. I noticed the tap over your basin was running, and I thought if you did try to catch a few winks the dripping noise would piss you off. You need to sleep, son.”
“I can’t sleep.” I drop my head, and keep my eyes fixed on the jacket I’d discarded on the floor when I came up here.
“For Morgan. You need to sleep for Morgan.”
“The bastard who stole Morgan called twice this morning.”
There’s silence until the mattress sinks lower below my arse. I don’t need to look to know John is now sitting beside me.
“What did he say?” His tone is tender.
I sigh, squeezing my eyes tightly together. “A bunch of crap.”
“Yeah.”
“The phone was successfully tapped, West tells me. The tech team routed it to come through my mobile too.”
“That’s smart, right?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “They haven’t got a trace from what I know. I don’t think he stayed on the line long enough.” I pause. “But that fucker knew I wasn’t at home when the call came in at your house. How did he know I was at yours?”
“Have those useless coppers looked for bugs?”
“It’s all clear, they say. No bugs. So how did this man know?”
“I don’t know, maybe…”
“Maybe it’s one of the coppers.”
John doesn’t answer.
“You’re thinking it, too, aren’t you, John?”
“I’m not sure what I’m thinking. I can’t understand why anyone would do this to Morgan. She’s sweet, kind, a great mum—”
“She is. It’s revenge. But revenge for what?”
“I don’t know, Reid.”
“Me either.”
“How about you try and eat something? I can make you a sandwich or even just a cup of coffee. I’d ask Shirley to fetch it for you, but she’s with the kids next door.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Something, Reid. Eat something.” His hand squeezes my bicep. “Come on. Let’s go back downstairs. We’ll eat together.”
“Just a coffee,” I say, my stomach so raw that it causes acid to burn a path to my throat just thinking about food.
“Coffee it is.” His weight becomes absent. “Come on.”
Lifting my head, I witness his dirty aged hand held out awaiting mine. It’s I who should be assisting him. After all, he’s more than double my age.
“Coffee,” I mumble, pressing my hands into my thighs and using the weight of my arms to push myself up.
Side by side, we take the stairs. John’s holding the toolbox he used to fix the leaking tap. I wasn’t aware it had been leaking.
“Where the hell have you been, Stratt?” It’s West’s voice I hear, but I don’t see either of them.
“I made it, didn’t I? I was leaving for my holiday when Max called. I had to change my flights.”
“I’ve been trying to call you.”
“I’ve had no missed calls.”
“I thought you were driving.”
“I am. Once I fly into Melbourne. Why are you so interested in my arrangements, anyway?”
I round the corner, and there stands West talking to a man in navy board shorts and a T-shirt. I believe it’s Constable Stratt, who attended my call on the night of Morgan’s disappearance. Maloney’s standing to the left of them. He seems to be listening to the situation, more so than being involved in it. They don’t see us, or if they do, they don’t pay any attention to our presence.
“What’s with this recording?” Stratt seems irritated. He’s shifting from foot to foot. His posture is stiff, rigid.
“We’ve had the sound techs go over it already in Brisbane, and they've sent confirmation. Our perp was trying to disguise his voice with a Pom accent.”
“So you don’t need me now?”
“No, this morning I bloody did. You said you were coming straight in.”
“I told you—”