by Kate Genet
But he’d never said anything about these photos.
Every page was full, a Polaroid slipped neatly into each plastic sleeve. Zoe stared at them, realising with a deep, aching despair, that she felt no surprise.
She didn’t need to look up at the child in the photo on the wall to recognise Danny’s sister.
She also didn’t need to look through every page to know what they meant.
And she certainly wasn’t stupid enough to keep thinking there was an innocent reason Danny was at the park the day Sahara, with her beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair, went missing, then was found dead.
Closing her eyes, Zoe concentrated on her breathing, willing her nerves to steady. Something cold replaced the blood in her veins, and when she opened her eyes again, she thought she might be ready.
Finding her phone, she picked out a few of the most graphic photos of Rachel, her sister-in-law, and focused the phone’s camera on them, taking copies. Then she closed the album, ignoring the compulsion to wipe her hands on her pants afterwards.
A wedding style album was next and there was no surprise there either. Just a pain that settled under her heart and made it hurt to draw breath.
There were photos of Sahara. Lots of them. The ache in her heart flared into a hot burn when she saw that Rose was in a great many of the shots.
She closed the cover with a snap. Didn’t even bother looking in the other albums. It would only be more of the same.
Her legs were steady when she stood, the album of photos with Sahara in them under her arm. Moana would need to see those. Moana would need to see all of this. She picked up the oldest one of Polaroids as well, unable to leave it on the floor like it was unimportant. Poor Rachel. Poor, sweet Rachel. Her frightened face was going to haunt Zoe’s dreams for the rest of her life.
Carrying them, Zoe walked out to the car, forgetting to close the door to the house, forgetting everything but what she’d learnt about her husband. She went around to the boot of the car and opened it, placing the two albums inside, then closing the boot lid with a gentle click, face blank. For a moment she gazed into space, then took out her phone and sent Claire a text.
Can’t wait, she wrote. Going to the park to get Rose.
She hadn’t told Claire of her suspicions when they’d spoken on the phone earlier. They’d only been suspicions then – not even that. Just a couple of alarm bells going off so loud she couldn’t think of anything except getting Rose safe. But Claire had agreed to come over anyway, her voice taking on that brisk, competent tone it had, not asking any questions, not wasting any time, just saying she’d be right over.
Zoe got into the car, still pushing buttons on her phone. It was time to call Moana. Moana would know what to do with the photographs. She’d recognise what they were straight away, and she’d know what they meant. The wide – ever so wide – implications.
And Moana was a friend. She’d be there for Zoe through the storm that was coming. She’d do her job, but she’d look after Zoe and Rose as best she could. There was no one better in the city when it came to dealing with crimes against children.
The call went through to voicemail. That was okay. Moana was busy. She was an officer in a busy police station. She’d get back to Zoe as soon as she could.
‘Call me,’ Zoe said. ‘It’s really important.’ Her composure slipped, voice cracking. ‘I'm going to go get Rose, and then I'm coming straight over to see you. But call me when you get this anyway.’
She disconnected, trying to shake her mind free of the daze that kept wanting to shroud her thoughts.
There was Rose to pick up.
20
They weren’t at the park. A tatter of crime scene tape fluttered from a tree. Zoe stood on the grass and stared around, then pulled her phone from her pocket.
She had to clear her throat before she spoke.
‘Hi Danny,’ she said. ‘Where are you?’
‘At the shops.’ There was no smile in his voice until she heard him speaking to Rose. ‘We’re going to go get a muffin for lunch, aren’t we, Pumpkin?’ Zoe’s heart lurched when she heard her daughter’s singsong reply.
‘How about I join you?’ she asked, forcing a brightness into her voice that she didn’t feel. ‘I'm actually going to get a lunch hour today and I can’t think of two people I’d rather spend it with.’ She’d put a smile on her face to help her words, but it froze and cracked.
‘Sure,’ Danny said. ‘We’re just over the road from the park. Going to snag a table at the bakery.’
‘Okay then, good,’ Zoe said, looking toward the shops. She couldn’t see them, but maybe they were inside. ‘I’ll be there in two minutes.’ Deciding she would get the car and park right in front of the bakery, rather than having to carry Rose up through the park. A quick getaway. Heart beating too fast, she checked the time and slipped her phone into her pocket. It actually was lunch time. Twelve thirty. Turning, she headed back up the slope to the car. It was time to get her daughter.
The road was busy, but she found a spot to park a couple shops down from the bakery. It was an old part of town this, the shops brick and leaning out over the footpath, but it had escaped much in the way of damage in September’s earthquake and she liked it here.
The smell of fresh bread, usually something she breathed in with an appreciative sigh, made Zoe feel sick. All she wanted was Rose and the closer she got to having her daughter safe in her arms, the more she itched to feel that small body within her grasp.
Danny waved to her from a table on the footpath and she breathed a sigh of relief. There was her daughter, cream on her chin, a doughnut clenched in one hand. She should have known it wouldn’t be a healthy muffin on the menu.
‘Hi Rose,’ she said, coming up to the table and dropping a kiss on the little girl’s head.
‘Hi Mummy!’ Rose beamed up at her, cheeks crusted with cinnamon and sugar. ‘I got a dognut.’
‘I can see that, sweetie. It looks delicious.’
Rose nodded and licked at the cream and jam. ‘Licious,’ she agreed. ‘Punzel likes it too.’ She dipped the doll’s head in the cream and giggled.
‘What can I get you, Zoe?’ Danny said. Zoe hadn’t looked at Danny and didn’t want to. He didn’t sound exactly thrilled to see her. Which was fine, because she was going to be very happy if she never saw him again at all.
‘Just Rose,’ she said, her voice tight.
‘What?’
‘I'm taking Rose,’ she said, bending down and unbuckling the little girl from the highchair.
‘What do you mean, you’re taking Rose?’ Danny was scraping back his chair, getting to his feet.
‘You heard me,’ she said. ‘I'm taking my daughter.’ She finally looked at him and the sight of him made her want to hit him square in the face. ‘You see, I’ve had a very enlightening day,’ she said.
He stared at her.
‘You want some dognut, Mummy?’ Rose asked.
‘No, sweetie, you can have it,’ Zoe said, managing to get Rose free and hoisting her onto her hip, ignoring the cream that smeared all over her shirt while she folded up the stroller parked next to the chair with the expertise of long experience.
She looked at the man she’d married. The man she hadn’t known at all.
‘Turns out you lied about knowing Jeanette,’ she said.
‘Who’s Jeanette?’ There was puzzlement in his voice that sounded genuine.
‘Sahara’s mum. Maybe you don’t remember Jeanette, I give you that. But Sahara. Oh, you know her, all right.’
‘I don’t know anyone called Sahara.’
‘Sara!’ Rose said around a mouthful of cream and dough. ‘She’s my friend.’
‘Yes,’ Zoe agreed, staring at Danny now, her mouth curled in contempt. ‘You wanted her to be yours too, didn’t you, Danny? You sure took a lot of photos of her.’ She paused for breath, tightened her grip on Rose. ‘And funnily enough, you were at the park when she was having her birthday party. When you said y
ou were at the mall.’
Danny blinked at her and a muscle in his eyelid twitched.
‘It’s ironic, really,’ Zoe said, unable to help herself. ‘There you are, caught in a photograph. I recognised you straight away. Despite the fact you were hiding in some bushes.’ She shivered. ‘What did you do, you bastard?’ Her voice dropped to a hiss. ‘Tell her you could show her a terrific hiding place?’ The blood drained from her face. ‘I bet you told her Rose was with you, didn’t you? Is that how you got her to go with you? Told her Rose wanted her? You disgusting, rotten bastard.’
Shaking her head, she turned on her heels, knowing she’d probably said too much. She hadn’t meant to say anything at all, just pick up Rose and take her. But it had been impossible, looking into his smug face.
Out from under the old building’s overhang, she looked across the road at the park, for a moment seeing it as it must have been that Sunday. Sahara and her friends running around squealing with laughter, playing hide and seek.
Danny in the bushes.
Calling Sahara over. Telling her lies. Touching her. The little girl struggling, crying out...
Zoe snapped her head back around and pushed the images away. She was almost at the car. Now she bent to the door and pulled it open, slid the pushchair inside, slipped Rose into her car seat. Never had she been so glad of the extra expense of having a car seat in each vehicle.
A hand clamped around her upper arm, squeezing with steel fingers.
‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ Danny’s voice was a snake hiss.
She snapped the buckle in place across Rose’s tummy, the little girl quiet now, staring at her with wide eyes, one hand holding frozen the half-eaten doughnut, the other still gripping the bare legs of her Rapunzel doll. Danny pulled Zoe from the car, but she flung the car door shut on the child.
‘I'm taking Rose away from you,’ she said, straightening to her full height and squaring her shoulders. He was not going to intimidate her.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I can see that bit. I don’t know what all the other shit you’re spouting is about though.’
Vindication welled up in Zoe’s chest like a hot air balloon. Looking into the cold flints of Danny’s eyes, she had no doubt now.
She was right about him.
‘You’re a paedophile, Danny,’ she said, making sure every syllable was clear. ‘I found the photos you had stashed away in your cupboard – you know? The one you keep locked, in the room you always order us out of?’ She paused, staring at him. ‘The ones of your sister.’ She shook her head, lips curling up in distressed disgust. ‘You did unspeakable things to her.’ Putting her hand to his fingers on her arm, she plucked at them. ‘If I find out you’ve ever touched Rose, I will personally castrate you.’ His hand didn’t budge but she wasn’t going to be stopped. ‘You have my word on that,’ she said. ‘It’s a promise.’
His face would have made an interesting study in changing and churning emotions. Watching it, calmness settled over her in direct proportion to what she could see in his expression. Brow thunderous, he bared his teeth, spittle flying when he spoke.
‘What the fuck have you done?’
A shake of the head. ‘No, Danny,’ she said, pressed back now against the side of the car. There would be bruises on her upper arm, dark marks from fingertips, but she didn’t care. Rose was safe in the car, Claire would be here any minute, and even if she didn’t turn up in time, a moment longer and Zoe would twist free, get in the car and drive straight down to the station to talk to Moana.
Danny would be behind bars by the end of the day.
21
His wife’s words pushed against his ears like waves in some black and dangerous storm he hadn’t been warned against. He barely made out their individual meanings in the rush of fury that battered against him.
But he understood enough.
He understood plenty, in fact. He understood that Zoe, his wife, had come striding up and taken his daughter just like that, without so much as a word or a by-your-leave.
He understood she’d been places she never had the right to go. Been poking about in places that were none of her business.
Rachel. She’d found the photos of Rachel.
His fingers tightened on her bicep. ‘You little bitch,’ he spat. ‘You had no right to go snooping. None of those things were for your eyes.’
His wife was shaking her head at him. He narrowed his eyes and stared at her, gaze raking over her hair, darker than Rose’s, cut in some fancy, feathery do, and wished suddenly that he could just pick up a rock and make a dent in that stupid skull that would have her staggering and screaming, then shutting up forever and ever and just leaving him the hell alone.
He’d never done anything wrong. Rachel had loved him. The photos were their secret, something precious between them, something she had liked him doing. Rachel had needed him, wanted him. She’d never stopped him. Never even told anyone, not until the end, and look how that had gone.
‘Those were private,’ he whispered, hearing his voice guttural and fierce. ‘I loved Rachel, and you had no right to go pawing through my things.’
Zoe was shaking her head. ‘You’re sick,’ she said. ‘You make me sick. You’re no better than the rest of the delusional perverts I deal with. Always lying to yourselves, knowing exactly what you’re doing. It’s rape, Danny, rape of helpless children – fuck your bullshit excuses. All of you always justifying yourselves.’ She turned her head away as though disgusted with him. ‘You all call it love,’ she spat. ‘But it’s not. Sahara sure as shit didn’t feel love from you. You bastard!’
‘Leave her out of this. I don’t even know who the fuck she is, and she doesn’t have anything to do with anything.’ Inside, his stomach churned, and bile burned the back of his throat. How dare Zoe say the things she did? His wife knew nothing.
‘That’s not what I think,’ Zoe was saying. ‘It’s not what her poor mother thinks either. And it’s definitely not what Moana thinks.’ She was looking back at him now, chin lifted high, defiant. He grabbed her with both hands and shook her.
‘What are you saying?’ he hissed. ‘You interfering bitch!’
Then she laughed. She should have been frightened, should have cowered away from him, said she was sorry, that she’d be good, that she’d do anything he wanted, but instead she stood there laughing at him. His face burned, and he shook her again until her teeth clicked against each other. He sucked in a deep breath, holding her, tried to clear the red from his vision, think calmly, think it through.
‘You didn’t talk to anyone,’ he said. ‘You’re so full of shit. Always exaggerating. You haven’t any idea of anything. There’s nothing to tell anyone. You’ve got some bizarre fucking thoughts in your head, nothing more.’
‘You’re wrong,’ she said, pressed between his powerful body and the car, head craned up to meet his eyes. ‘The police are already on their way. And thanks to you and your albums of photos, they will have all the proof they need. And thanks to Jeanette taking her own photos, you’ll get done for Sahara as well.’
He screamed then. It burst from his chest as his vision blurred into a bloom of outraged magenta. All he could see was his own fury, blurring the face of his miserable, interfering wife. ‘You’re fucking lying! Just like you always do when you’re stitching up some poor guy, turning his family against him in that fucked-up job of yours.’
Shoving her back against the car his hands itched to wrap themselves around her neck.
‘Hey dude! The fuck you doing?’
Someone grabbed at him and he startled backwards.
‘Leave her alone, mate, for fuck’s sakes. You’re hurting the lady!’
He staggered back onto the footpath and stood there panting, hands dangling at his side, fists clenching in a furious tick.
There was a man helping Zoe to stand, supporting her, shooting him looks of mixed anger and fear.
‘I should be calling the cops,’ he said. ‘Jesus
, you were going to kill her.’
Danny snorted. The bitch looked fine. Fine enough to be shooting him dirty looks, the bloody cow. What he’d ever seen in her, he didn’t know.
‘I'm driving straight to the police station,’ Zoe said, and he curled his lip. Mr. Concerned Citizen was nodding along with her, leading her around the front of the car and opening the car door for her like a proper bloody gentleman. Next thing, there she was sitting in the driver’s seat and buckling her seatbelt like she really intended to take his daughter away from him and probably – yeah probably – go talking to that nosy police woman friend of hers.
He started forward, put his hand on the back door, peering through the window at where Rose sat. She was staring at him, little round face white under the bright hair. He wanted to scoop her out and hold her, touch his lips to the soft skin of her neck and tell her it was all going to be all right.
And it would be; he just had to get hold of her. Then he could think of what to do next. And of course, he would think of something. He’d always come up with the goods in the past. Zoe would not mess things up for him. Not now when he was just getting the essentials straight.
But the car door was locked, and the handle snapped down on his fingers. He snarled and kicked at the door.
The bitch started the engine. Turned the wheel.
He staggered, meaning to go around the car, break the window if he had to, reach through until he had his hands on the damned steering wheel.
But his legs weren’t working properly.
Everything around him shuddered and groaned and he looked up, startled, not knowing what he was looking for, only that something somewhere was making a terrible noise and that the ground was moving under his feet.