Saving Rose

by Kate Genet

  The damaged shops were cordoned off. Coming to a halt in front of the old bakery, Danny listened to his own panting and squinted at the red Ford Focus pinned down by the fallen masonry. Another breath, and he looked around.

  There were surprisingly few people about. A small group of teenagers drifting in a dusty fog in the direction of the city. A guy on a bicycle holding a camera to his eye. Danny turned a shoulder and shaded his face with the brim of his hat. He heard the squeak of bicycle tyres and when he checked, the guy was pedalling away in the direction of the city centre. Danny guessed things were pretty bad that way. For a moment anger heated his skin. It should be him touring around the broken city making a killing taking photographs.

  But no. Thanks to Zoe, he had to waste his precious time hunting down certain items she’d had no business taking in the first place.

  Closer to the car, he discovered that Zoe was no longer in the front seat. Glancing around, he stepped over the cordon and got closer.

  The door had been removed and there was blood, the seat covered in it, but no dead wife. Straightening, Danny looked around, wondering for a moment where she’d been taken, then ducked back down to the car, realising that he really didn’t give a toss about where they’d put her carcass.

  What he needed were the damned photographs, and they had to be here somewhere.

  It was dark in the front of the car and he cursed not bringing a torch. Which made him think a moment, then tear the backpack off and rip at the zips.

  A snarl curled his lip when he realised he was right. The Wilde’s were as ultra-organised as he thought they might be. There in one of the pockets was a slim and heavy black torch. He pressed the button and wasn’t surprised when the light came on strong and bright. There were probably spare batteries in the pack as well. It wouldn’t shock him at all.

  The front footwells were empty except for a single shoe that had somehow detached itself from Zoe’s foot to lie in the dirt and dust, on its side and pathetic. Danny stared at it for a moment, then sniffed and backed out of the doorway, glad to get back into the fresher air. He didn’t enjoy the smell of blood.

  Another curt look around but no one was paying him any attention. He could have been invisible, and the knowledge made him feel powerful. In a way he was invisible, doing what he needed to do, no one to question him anymore.

  If only he could find these bloody photographs.

  The back seat was empty too and he blinked at it in astonishment for a moment. Rose’s car seat was gone, and her stroller. Clicking the torch back on, he aimed the light at the back seat, but it remained just as empty.

  Some complete arsehole had come along and taken his things right from out of the car.

  Standing up with a growling yell, Danny switched off the torch and jammed it back in the pack. Now, there was only one place left to look and if he didn’t find what he was looking for there, he was fucked.

  ‘Fucked, fucked, fucked,’ he muttered.

  Zoe’s keys were gone from the ignition and on another curse, Danny dug in his pocket for his own keyring. He kept a spare for the Ford Focus on there and the metal was warm to his touch when he went around to the back of the car, stepping over more bricks to unlock the hatchback. It sprang open and this time words completely failed him.

  It was empty too.

  Just where exactly were the photos?

  33

  Claire could hear their voices in the kitchen, little Rose’s amongst them, and felt vaguely guilty as she crept up the stairs to her room. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help out, didn’t want to be part of the little circle of comfort that was her parents, or even help the little girl who had just lost her mum, but she needed a minute.

  She needed to think. Hard.

  Frank had built the house on a hill and it looked out over the small town and the harbour, neither of which looked the same as they had when Claire had woken to the view every morning of her childhood and adolescence. The air was clearing, but the knowledge that everything out there had changed made it look hazy with dust anyway.

  Sitting on the edge of her bed, she rested her head in her hands for a moment, feeling the chill of her fingers against the hot skin of her face. She stayed like that for a long breath, then straightened on a sigh and dug Zoe’s phone out of her pocket.

  She turned it over and over in her hands. The phone was warm from being pressed against her body.

  She couldn’t believe Zoe was gone. They hadn’t even had a chance to catch up over the plates of pasta Zoe had planned. She hadn’t got to sit across the table smiling at the face she’d grown up with, at the woman who she called sister rather than friend. Who, even though they’d chosen vastly different paths, was, Claire realised, an important tether to the world. There were few people who could tempt Claire off the ocean to come home, but Zoe had always been one of them.

  And now she was gone.

  Somewhere during the day, Zoe’s phone had run flat. Claire looked around for the charger to her own phone, found it, and plugged it in, waiting for the little battery icon to flash on, then forcing it to turn on.

  She wanted to know what Zoe had been doing that day.

  Something had gone wrong in Zoe’s life that morning and Claire felt sure it had something to do with Danny. Which made her reach for her own phone while she waited for Zoe’s to start up.

  It took only a moment to flip through to her text messages and to stare at the last words she’d had from Zoe, frowning over them.

  Can’t wait. Going to the park to get Rose.

  The words stared at her from the screen and Claire blinked over them, breathing steadily in and out, listening to the soft hiss and suck of air into her lungs.

  On the phone, Zoe had been almost incoherent. She’d spluttered something about Danny, about Rose, about having to get Rose away from him, and making Claire promise to come straight over. She’d sounded so distressed Claire had run straight upstairs, thrown on some clothes off the chair, not even bothering with the shower she’d been so keen to have a few minutes before, then galloping downstairs to beg her mother’s car keys. Which Gracie had been holding out ready for her, an odd look on her face.

  Well, her mother’s bad feeling had come to pass.

  Zoe’s phone gave a little bleep and Claire put down her own to look at it. It told her there were three missed calls.

  One was from Zoe’s father. Claire looked at the time next to it and saw it was only minutes after the quake hit. Colin checking to see if his daughter was okay.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Colin was apparently hooked in to her father’s little VHF circle today and would be back in Lyttelton as soon as he could get over the Port Hills. He’d escorted Zoe’s body to a makeshift morgue and formally identified her. Then been told there was nothing more he could do.

  Zoe hadn’t been the only one there in the hurriedly-erected tent.

  But she was the one making Claire’s heart hurt.

  The other two calls were from the same person and had Claire sitting up straighter in the room that had been hers when she was a child.

  The network was back up and running and Claire got straight through to Zoe’s voicemail, the skin on the back of her neck prickling.

  ‘What’s up, chicky?’ the warm, deep voice asked on the recording. ‘You got yourself sounding a bit stressed. I'm back in my office for the day, so I’ll see you when you get here. Is Rose all right?’

  So Claire wasn’t the only one Zoe had called that morning. Getting to her feet, Claire turned towards the window, pacing the few steps there, holding the phone and listening to the second message.

  This was post-earthquake.

  ‘Shit, chicky, are you all right? You gotta let me know, I can’t stay in the office too long waiting for you. All hands on deck out there. Damn world’s turned to custard. Call me.’ There was a pause. ‘Now. Call me soon as you can, Zoe. I'm worried about you and Rose.’

  Claire saved both messages and disconnected the call,
staring at the phone in her hand, wishing it could fill in a whole lot more blanks for her. When it rang in her hand, she almost dropped it.

  ‘Shit,’ she said, in accidental lieu of a greeting.

  ‘Zoe?’ It was the same voice from the messages she’d just listened to. She cleared her throat.

  ‘Moana? It’s Claire, Zoe’s friend.’

  ‘Claire. Finally someone’s answering. Where’s Zoe?’

  Three steps back to the bed and Claire sat abruptly down. ‘I'm really sorry, Moana. Zoe died in the earthquake today.’ There was nothing to do but to tell the truth.

  It was met with silence, then a long, low indrawn breath. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘She was in her car when it hit, parked in front of the bakery down from where they live. The car was hit by falling masonry.’ In her mind flashed a picture of red metal, red dust, red blood, and she could taste it all again in the back of her throat. She coughed. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I found her.’

  Again a long pause. ‘God, what a day,’ the police woman said softly, all her usual humour gone from her voice. ‘What a bloody awful, terrible day.’ Claire heard her draw breath. ‘Was it instant? What about Rose? What was going on this morning? Do you know?’ A sniff. ‘Sorry, too many questions. But honestly, answer them all, okay?’

  Claire looked unseeing around her bedroom. She nodded. ‘Okay.’ Then she didn’t know how to proceed.

  ‘It wasn’t instant,’ she said at last. ‘She was still alive when I got there maybe five minutes later. Just after that big aftershock.’ Claire shook her head. ‘I don’t know how long.’ She took a deep breath of her own then got on with it. ‘She died holding my hand. She died asking me to look after Rose.’ Zoe might not have said the exact words, but even now Claire could still see the look on her face and knew exactly what it meant.

  ‘Rose is okay?’

  ‘Yes. I'm at my parent’s place in Lyttelton and she’s here with me.’

  ‘How on earth did you get back to Lyttelton? The tunnel’s out.’

  ‘Boat,’ said Claire.

  ‘Okaay,’ Moana said, drawing the word out. ‘I forgot you’re into boating, so I guess that shouldn’t surprise me.’

  Claire closed her eyes. ‘Moana,’ she said. ‘Can I ask you why Zoe called you this morning? What did she say?’

  When Moana answered, there was a wariness in her voice that had Claire wishing they were talking face to face.

  ‘That’s the trouble, Claire. Zoe didn’t say. Just left a message on my voicemail saying that she was getting Rose and coming down to the station and asking me to call her as soon as I got the message.’

  ‘But she did say she was getting Rose?’

  ‘Very specifically. It made me worried there was something wrong with the child, but I don’t understand why she would want to bring her to me.’

  ‘You still work with the police, right?’

  ‘I'm a police officer,’ Moana corrected. ‘That’s how Zoe and I met.’

  ‘And Zoe said she was coming over to see you in your office?’

  ‘I guess so. She’d know that would be where to find me if I wasn’t out investigating our esteemed citizenry for abuses against children and old people.’

  ‘That’s what you specialise in?’

  A sigh. ‘For my sins. Someone has to.’

  There was quiet on the line except for a low hum of static.

  They both spoke at once.

  ‘What’s happened to Rose?’ Moana said.

  ‘I think it’s something to do with Danny,’ Claire said.

  ‘What?’

  The phone had cooled under Claire’s cold hands. She got up and walked to the door, stood outside it, listening to the soothing hum of voices downstairs. She could hear Gracie cooing to the child.

  ‘I’d better start at the beginning,’ she said. ‘Do you have time?’

  ‘No,’ Moana replied. ‘But I'm making it. Tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘I’ll tell you as much as I know. Which isn’t a great deal.’ Claire went back into her room and closed the door, stood at the window looking out over the water.

  ‘This morning I got a call from Zoe. She was almost incoherent, really upset. I couldn’t understand everything she said. Something about Danny, something about finding something out. Something – maybe about some kid drowning – I don’t know. Then she begged me to come straight over. Said she wanted me with her when she went and got Rose. She was going to find Danny and take Rose from him.’

  ‘And then she was going to come see me,’ Moana finished.

  They were both quiet, thinking about it.

  ‘What did he do?’ Claire asked, half under her breath.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Moana said. ‘But it sounds like he did something.’ She paused. ‘Wait a minute – what was that about a drowning girl?’

  ‘I'm really not sure. I think she must have been talking about the girl who drowned in the Heathcote river on the weekend. That happened just down the road from where they live. I remember reading about it in the paper and freaking out for a minute that it might have been Rose. I know Danny takes her there almost every day.’ She drew a breath. ‘Anyway, Zoe wasn’t quite coherent on the subject; she was extremely upset.’

  ‘Zoe doesn’t get upset easily.’

  Shame flushed Claire’s cheeks. It had been years since she’d spent more than a few hours at a time in Zoe’s company. She’d been so busy with her boats.

  ‘We have to find out what happened.’

  ‘You’ve got that right,’ Moana said. ‘Zoe and I talked about the drowning soon after it happened. That would have been Sunday. She knew the kid’s mother.’ Moana paused. ‘Where’s Danny, do you know?’

  Again, Claire wished she could sit down and talk to the police woman properly.

  ‘He was supposed to come out and stay with us, along with Rose. Their house sustained quite a bit of damage and I just thought it was better if Rose came and stayed here.’ She dug her fingernails into the flesh of her palm. ‘Look, I’d really like to talk to you properly about this. There’s a lot more I want to say about Danny.’ She paused in thought. ‘I can’t make it over tonight, but what about tomorrow?’

  Moana sighed, a heavy, sad sound. ‘I'm going to be putting in long hours tomorrow. So many people have died, the death count just keeps rising. I'm not going to have time for anything that isn’t strictly an emergency.’

  ‘What about afterwards. Surely you have to go home?’

  ‘I might get a few hours. Can you come to my house in the evening? I'm one of the lucky ones, nothing but a bit of a mess, broken crockery, shit like that. And all the family is intact.’ She paused. ‘Except for Zoe. She was part of the extended whanau, you know? Shit.’

  ‘Text me your address and I’ll see you there tomorrow evening.’ She gave Moana her number.

  ‘You have Zoe’s phone.’ It was a statement rather than a question, but Claire answered it anyway.

  ‘Yes, I do. And I'm keeping hold of it.’

  They said goodbye and Claire held Zoe’s phone against her chest for a moment.

  She was keeping hold of the phone, and she was keeping hold of Rose.

  She didn’t know what was going on, but they were not going to hand the little girl over to Danny until she did.

  34

  Danny bit down on the howl that burst up from his throat. The boot space was definitely empty. Someone had cleaned the car out.

  ‘Fuck!’ he hissed under his breath. ‘Where the fuck are they?’

  It was turning into a wild goose chase, and standing on the broken street, Danny looked around wondered what the hell to do next.

  The teenagers looked at him, still in their huddle, four pairs of inquisitive eyes turned to him.

  ‘The fuck you staring at?’ he yelled.

  A couple of them shook their heads and looked away, pretending to examine the cracks in the street.

  ‘A woman died in that car,’ a braver o
ne said. ‘Why are you poking around in it?’

  ‘Because the woman was my fucking wife, and this is my fucking car, you moron.’ He reached out and slammed the hatchback down then spun on his heel in the dust and grit.

  The teenager didn’t know when to shut up. ‘They took her away,’ he said.

  ‘Well thanks for the update on the obvious,’ Danny spat back, debating his next move.

  ‘A bunch of old codgers.’

  ‘What?’ He looked over at the kid staring defiantly back at him.

  ‘But you know that, right, if it was your wife?’

  Danny just blinked at the boy. ‘What the fuck are you on about?’

  The kid just shrugged. ‘You’d be crying if it really was your wife.’

  That had him shaking his head in disbelief. Why was he even having this conversation? ‘How the hell do you know what I'm feeling?’ He took a breath, quelling the rising anger that had him wanting to stalk across the street, grab the teenaged loser by the shirt and shake him until his back teeth clattered loose.

  When he spoke, he was gratified to find that he actually sounded calmer. ‘These old guys. Was one of them over six foot and look like he used to have muscles back in the good old days?’

  ‘Yeah, that might be him.’

  Might be. More help than a mosquito bite, Danny guessed. Just.

  ‘Her father,’ Danny said. ‘That explains it then.’

  ‘Never liked you, huh?’ The kid was leaning slightly forward, eyes zeroed in on him.

  Nope. Colin, the old bastard, never really had. But then Colin Kennedy was a drunk and a waste of space, so it had never bothered Danny what the man thought of his son in law. Zoe liked her husband well enough and that was the important thing.

  ‘Don’t blame him,’ the kid said, and elbowed his companions. ‘I wouldn’t want you marrying my daughter either.’ He turned around. ‘Come on guys, let’s get out of here.’

  They moved in a pack down the broken road and Danny stared after them, lips curling in a snarl. Then he looked back at the car and forgot about the kids altogether.