I growl through my teeth as I curl my fists into tight balls and beat them into my thighs. “Morgan,” I groan, suppressing the urge to release any further anguish.
The air is still. There’s no breeze, not even a hint of one to come. It’s muggy and dry, but even so, I don’t want to leave this space. At least I can breathe out here.
Maloney offers a half-hearted wave to Senior Constable Prospect, the lanky redhead who has barely said a single word to me yet. I’m not sure what it is about Prospect, but he seems strange in so many ways. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t say much, or maybe it’s because when I do catch him moving about, he always seems to be scanning his surroundings, like one would when snooping.
Prospect stands a fair distance away from Maloney and myself, out on the lawn, not far from the tyre swing hanging limply from the tree I tied it to not long after Brax was born. I watch as he points with one finger to his ear, and that’s when I realise he’s taking a call, or maybe he’s listening to a message. His lips don’t appear to be moving, and I can’t hear him speak.
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over losing it in there,” Maloney says quietly, his finger outstretched towards the open front door. “It happens to the best of us.”
“Yeah,” I say, defeated.
Maloney slips his hand into the pocket of his jeans, swiftly removing a pack of cigarettes, and as he does I contemplate what it would be like to put every one of those cancer sticks in my mouth and light them all at once. I know Cruise used to say he smoked because it lessened his stress levels. I wonder if that works for panic, too.
“Would you like one?” The packet is held outwards not far from my hand.
“I think I’ll pass. Those cigarettes taste like shit.”
“They do.” The corners of his lips rise as he slides the pack right back where he retrieved it from.
“Don’t let me stop you from having one though.”
“I don’t smoke.” Maloney’s direct in the way he declares this as if it’s common knowledge to the world.
I cock my eyebrows. “So why do you have them?”
“We all carry a packet. It’s something we learn in the police academy. I guess I smoke, but only when and if I need to. You’d be amazed at how a simple cigarette can get a perp to open up and talk, or a frazzled civilian—”
“Some water.” I turn. Lynette. Her face mute of emotion. Lynette has such serious features, which become more noticeable as she stands under the patio’s light. I’m not sure if it’s because of her crow-dark eyes, or if it’s because I haven’t determined if we’re friends or foes at this point, but the unease that comes with being in her company sends shivers like spikes to my spine.
“Thanks.” I accept the glass from her and scull the liquid in only a few gulps.
“Would you like more?”
I’m surprised to find her waiting with an outstretched hand; surprised because I’ve not found her to be patient or caring in the brief encounters we’ve had.
I shake my head, handing her the glass.
“Okay,” she says deadpan.
I don’t have a chance to reply with anything further because with a blink of my eyes, Detective Dyson is gone.
Prospect ambles up the front stairs and lingers beside Maloney. I stare him down as he leans into Maloney’s side and whispers something, sporting an enigmatic smile. Prospect irks me. What’s with this need to whisper?
Maloney inclines his head gravely in response.
“I’m going inside.” Prospect eyes me. There’s a coldness to the glare he delivers.
“Yep,” Maloney mumbles.
“Any news?” I blurt, the moment Prospect disappears.
“No, not yet.” Maloney seems distracted in answering, as if he’s thinking about something in-depth. Does he have new information he’s not willing to share? Is it bad?
“Are you sure? You haven’t heard anything from Detective West?”
“No news.” He’s blunt, and I know he’s lying.
The panic that consumed me not so long ago rebuilds. My hands tremble, and I bear down on my teeth as if by doing so I can clamp any remaining hope I have in my heart between them.
“We’ll find her.” Maloney’s soft-spoken.
“You know … Have you …” I can’t find the words.
“Ask me anything. I’ll answer. No BS. I promise.”
“Do you have any children?”
He nods promptly.
“Married?”
He nods again.
“You know when you’re in a shopping complex, and you turn your head for only just a moment, and after you do your kid just up and disappears on you?”
He nods once more.
“The feeling of raw panic you experience instantly has your mind conjuring up all the terrible situations that could take place if you don’t find your kid immediately. You start yelling their name, and you run, you run flat-strap like it’s instinct to do so.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“You’re searching, but every second ticking by is a second you can’t change if trouble has found them.” I pause, thinking about the times Brax and Aleeha have done this to me in the past. “Then you see a blur of their clothing, or you hear their tiny voice in your haste, and the panic surging your adrenaline leaves you as quickly as it set in. The sirens of danger stop ringing vociferously in your head, and you realise they were safe the entire time. It was a silly toy or bright object which called them away from your side in the first place.”
“Mila, my daughter—she’s done this to me.” Maloney gifts an understanding smile.
“It’s the worst feeling.”
“It is the worst.”
“You walk over to your little brat, and every part of you wants to shake the living shit out of them as you bark how scared you were straight into their innocent face. You need your child to comprehend how dangerous it was that they left your side, but even though this is what you want to do, you don’t.” I raise my arms linking my fingers behind my head. “Instead, you wrap your arms around their guiltless body and hold them as tightly as you can, thinking, Thank God you’re safe.”
Maloney’s nodding. “That’s generally how the aftermath plays out.”
“That’s what I’m waiting for, Max. I’m waiting for the relief to come so it can drown out the panic swirling inside me. I need these sirens blasting in my head to stop sounding. Right now, I want to run—scream Morgan’s name. Let the world flash me by as I search for her.”
“I get it. I do.”
“If this was your wife?”
“I’d be shit scared. There's no doubt in my mind.”
“How old’s your daughter?” I’m curious, but also trying to gain a level of friendship with Maloney that might see him open up and give me some information to set my uncertainties at ease.
“She’s three.”
“I remember my Aleeha being small like that.”
“Mila’s a good kid.” The corner of his lips tug upward until he’s contently smiling. “But she’s a sassy firecracker like her mamma is.”
“Kids are hard work, right?”
“That they are. Thank God I get to leave for work and take a break from kid-wrangling. I’m not sure how my wife does it all day and night.”
“Morgan’s an amazing mother.”
“So is my Sophia.”
There’s silence.
“I’ll take that smoke now.” I sigh. “I need something, anything to try and keep me calm.”
Maloney reaches into his pocket, removing the packet for the second time. “After this, Reid, you need to try and get some sleep. Even if it’s only twenty minutes, it will help.”
I shake my head. “I can’t sleep. I don’t think I can until I have my wife home safe.”
“You can’t stay awake forever; your body will eventually shit itself … Trust me.”
“I’ll sleep when my wife is home. That’s when I’ll sleep. Not before.”