by David Burton
Several minutes had passed since he heard the cleaner close a door nearby. There’d been no other sounds since then. He opened the door of 315 a crack and peeked out. No-one. He leant out further. The admin building wasn’t far, a clean sprint down the concrete aisle would get him there in seconds. He would just have to hope the back door was unlocked.
He inched his way out of the room and shut the door behind him. He bent low and moved down the aisle. When he got to the end, he paused. There were a few metres of no cover between him and the admin building. The door was in sight. He’d just have to go for it.
Without stopping to think, he bolted for the door, instinctively checked to his right and his heart shrank. The cleaner’s trolley was right there. A door closed just metres away. He darted back and pressed up against the wall as if he could melt into it. He didn’t dare look.
If the cleaner came his way now, he was done for. He could sprint back to room 315, but there was no way he could make it in time and pull out the key.
He waited an eternity. Then he heard the trolley wheels squeaking. It took a second or two before he realised they were moving in the opposite direction.
He was safe.
He looked across at the admin door again: he was so close. The coast was clear. A few easy strides, keeping low and silently praying for the door to open easily under his fingers.
And it did. He walked into the building and closed the door behind him.
Now he was in a short hallway. In the distance, he could hear a printer humming. Someone was here. He’d have to be quiet. Apart from the printer, there was only the gentle buzz of an air conditioner, already switched on as a defence against the day’s climbing heat.
Ahead of him, he could see the hallway opened out to a larger reception area. To his left was a door, helpfully marked Storage. He opened it and was greeted by tall shelves stocked with cleaning supplies, towels and sheets. There was no sign of any personal property from the workers.
He thought of his school’s lost property box. If someone lost something, they’d have to go up to the office and ask reception to check lost property. Maybe Tyson’s belongings would be in a similar place. But going towards reception would bring him closer to the sound of the printing. Just as he was listening, the printer ceased and he heard a man clearing his throat.
He was beyond fear now. He’d have to risk it, he’d come this far.
Staying low, he closed the storage room door and moved down the hallway. The open reception area was empty. He could see a half-open door across from where he was standing. The light was on. That must be where the man was. From here he could also see the front door. If things turned bad, he could make a quick run for it.
He moved behind the low reception desk. It smelt like air freshener, like fake flowers. There was a filing cabinet and some shelves.
The man coughed again.
He made a quick decision to open the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. He couldn’t see anywhere else that Tyson’s stuff could be.
As he opened the drawer, it let out a small shuddering groan. He froze, half-expecting the man to come bounding out of his office at any moment. He strained to listen and could just make out the light tapping of a keyboard. The man was preoccupied.
Inside the drawer, he found his prize.
A large white plastic bag occupied the entire space. Through the semi-clear surface, he could see a couple of hi-vis vests, a pair of sneakers and, he almost cried out, a phone and a wallet.
He opened the plastic bag, trying not to make a noise. He moved as if it were a bomb, gently unfolding the scrunched surface to find his way in. He felt the cold glass face of the phone as he held it in his hands, black and gleaming, with a minor crack in one corner.
He knew in his guts that it was Tyson’s. At the very least he could now return it to Millie and Megan.
He reached in for the wallet too. It was thin and made of cheap leather. He opened it and saw Tyson’s face staring back at him. It was his driver’s licence. Tyson gazed into the camera, his face like stone. Shaun let his thumb brush over it.
Now he could see something else in the bag that he hadn’t spotted before: two sheets of paper, folded and creased. He drew them out silently, half an ear still on the typing next door. He opened up the paper.
It was a handwritten letter from Tyson.
Two pages in an uneven scrawl. Several words and phrases were underlined. He’d used a black pen that had leaked in places. It was paper that he’d got from here, with the Viveco logo at the top of each page in bright green and orange.
I’m sorry, the letter began. I’ve broken everything.
Shaun felt his stomach drop. He knew what this was. He didn’t have to keep reading, but he did anyway.
I’m going to lose my job. They’re going to fire us all. They want FIFOs. We’re fucked.
The word fucked was underlined three times. He had pressed the pen down so hard he’d almost punctured the page.
There’s nothing any of us can do. I can’t provide for you.
Shaun turned the page and the writing changed a bit. It was like he’d slowed down. Taken more time to write each sentence and think.
I’m sorry, he’d written again. There’s only one way out. If I lose my job my life is over. They r killing me. They r killing us all. I’m not the only one.
He swallowed. He couldn’t hear the keyboard. He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t think.
There were only two more words at the bottom of the page.
I’m sorry.
He stared at both pages, flipped them over, looked for something more. But there was nothing.
This was Tyson’s suicide note.
He’d killed himself.
There were no killers.
Everyone else had been right.
Then Shaun felt a hand on his shoulder.
By the time his mum arrived at the camp, Shaun’s stomach was growling. The man who ran the place had sat him in his office. Shaun had done nothing but stare at the floor and hang on to Tyson’s belongings as if his life depended on them.
At first, he had tried to run, but the man grabbed him.
‘What are you doing?’ he demanded. He was bald, his big face was red and confused.
Silence was pointless. He had what he came for and he’d been caught. He gave him his mum’s number. She would find out eventually anyway. The dude was going to call either her or the cops.
She looked pale and terrified when she entered the building. She glanced at Shaun then sputtered out a round of apologies to the man, who introduced himself as Billy.
‘He’s a tough kid if he’s cycled all the way out here,’ Billy said, almost in admiration. ‘I think he was after some personal property. Did you guys know Tyson Grant?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid we did.’
Billy nodded sympathetically. ‘Tragic. I was one of the last to see him. Came here after his shift, then got on the shuttle to go home. Didn’t realise he’d left all his stuff behind. Been meaning to send everything on to the family, but I didn’t know if the police or someone else would want it.’
Shaun scowled. ‘So you did nothing? You just held on to his stuff? You didn’t talk to the police?’
His mother flashed him a warning look. ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘Don’t say another word.’
‘Well, listen,’ Billy said, ‘youse take that if you want. It’s been a few weeks now. But I wouldn’t read that letter if I was you, it might be a bit, ah, upsetting for the family and that.’
She looked at the letter in Shaun’s hands, and then at him.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Thanks. And again, I’m sorry.’
They picked up his bike and threw it in the back of the car. Shaun put Tyson’s phone, wallet and letter in his backpack and swung into the passenger seat. They headed alon
g the driveway and turned right back down the highway.
Away from the camp, and back home.
They didn’t speak. Shaun was exhausted. He closed his eyes and felt the sun reach in through the windscreen as his mother gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white from rage or sadness or fear.
Tyson had killed himself. He wrote a note saying so and then got on a shuttle. He hadn’t bothered to take things with him because he knew he was going to die.
There was still a cover-up. But the movie that had run for weeks in Shaun’s mind was now a fantasy. Shaun standing in the middle of the street, announcing the details of the crime he’d solved in detail, triumphantly pointing at the masterminds behind the murder. They’d be dragged off to jail, everyone would clap. And Megan would leap into his arms.
Suicides were not as tidy. And more shameful. He didn’t want to stand in the middle of the street and talk about suicide. They were sad, useless events that made people uncomfortable. He knew this from his father. No-one mentioned the word ‘suicide’ after he was gone. They talked about the injury at work. They talked about how difficult it must have been for him to be out of a job. But that was it. They didn’t talk about the final act. That was fine by Shaun. He didn’t want to talk about it either. He didn’t want to think about it ever again.
When he opened his eyes, they were on the outskirts of town. People were up and walking around. They looked freshly showered and happy. Time had slipped away from him over the past twelve hours. He couldn’t believe it was a new day. People had gone to bed last night and slept, living normal lives.
His mum drove past their house.
‘Where are we going?’ he whined.
She shook her head. ‘Those are your first words to me?’
They were driving straight through town.
Shaun was wiped. He’d been hoping to collapse into his bed. ‘Mum?’
She gripped the steering wheel harder. ‘To the coast. I booked an appointment with someone who could fit you in today.’
‘A shrink?’
‘Yes, Shaun, a psychologist. It won’t be the end of the world. You’ll just sit and talk. And considering what’s just happened, you’re in no position to argue.’ Her voice was loud now. Everything came out quickly. ‘I was worried sick. I thought you’d done something stupid. Which you had, it turns out. I can’t believe—’ She slammed her hand down on the wheel. ‘WHY would you go out there? WHY?’
‘I wanted to see Tyson’s room,’ he said. He couldn’t be bothered having an argument with her right now. It wasn’t like it would come to any good. ‘Megan mentioned they didn’t have his things back, so I knew there had to be some stuff out at the camp.’
She paused, surprised by his lack of defiance. He could feel her looking at him, glancing between him and the road. ‘Did you read that letter?’
He shifted in his seat. ‘Yep. It was his suicide note.’ He couldn’t look at her. He could only feel the weight of the silence between them now. The sound of the car on the road. The country moving past like a painting. He suspected she was crying.
‘Okay,’ she said, eventually.
‘It still doesn’t prove …’ he began, his voice drifting. She would protest even before he’d finished the sentence. ‘It still doesn’t prove why anyone would cover it up or take his body—’
‘Jesus,’ she breathed.
They gave up on each other and let the rest of the trip pass in silence. Shaun closed his eyes and slept. His dreams were empty. When he woke, his legs felt sore and his stomach ached with hunger. They pulled into a drive-thru and he inhaled a greasy lunch.
The town on the coast felt like a bustling city compared with his home town, but little more than a speck on the land when Shaun thought about Brisbane. The hospital was a huge grey building with a confusing car park. When they got out of the car Shaun took his backpack. He didn’t want to let Tyson’s belongings out of his sight.
When they finally arrived at the front counter of the psychiatric wing, his mother gave their name and was told to wait. He was surprised. He had imagined lunatics screaming at walls, but it looked like a completely normal doctor’s surgery.
‘Just be honest,’ his mother whispered. ‘Okay? Just please be honest with them. For me. Please.’
He replied with a miniscule nod. He didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t want to be here. Right now he needed sleep.
A tall man eventually came out of a side office. He had a beard and was a bit older than Shaun’s mother. He looked smart in the way that all doctors did. The kind of smart that came from spending a lot of time studying.
‘Shaun, Linda,’ he smiled, offering his hand. Shaun’s mum shook it, and he did the same. Shaun’s face remained still. ‘My name’s Luke. Come in.’
Luke’s office was simple. It had a desk and a small bookshelf, but most of the room was taken up by two large couches. That was where they all sat to talk.
Shaun’s mother offered a brief recount of the last couple of weeks. She also mentioned Shaun’s dad. Luke nodded sympathetically and then asked her to leave the room. He wanted to talk with Shaun for a few minutes, and then he’d invite her back in.
She agreed, giving Shaun one final pleading glance before leaving. With her gone, Luke raised his eyebrows at Shaun and smiled. ‘So,’ he said, ‘it sounds like you’ve got quite the story to share. Why don’t you tell me about this Tyson bloke?’
Shaun cleared his throat and began. He didn’t see any reason to hold back. And besides, once he started he couldn’t stop. He began with Tyson’s body in the lake and went on from there, listing the evidence and the investigation he’d done with Will. He even mentioned the lie about the head wound. The only bit he left out was seeing Tyson’s ghost at the funeral, because that felt more like a dream.
‘And now I’m here because Mum doesn’t believe me,’ he said. ‘And she thinks this is all about Dad.’
He stopped for the first time in minutes. Luke didn’t shift his gaze. ‘And is this about your dad?’
Shaun stared at the red carpet. His thumbs dug into the side of the couch. ‘What happened to Dad was really shit. And I’m angry at him for it. But I can also understand why he did it. I can understand why Tyson did it. It’s not easy work, and it can’t be easy raising a family in the middle of nowhere. Everyone talks about how rough it is and how crap the town is. And I’m really – ah, I don’t know, like, I’ve got a lot of feelings, not feelings, but—’
Luke smiled. ‘It’s okay to have feelings.’
‘Whatever. I’m trying to say I understand why Mum would think this is about Dad.’ He leant forward in his chair. ‘But, like, I saw Tyson a week before anyone else. His boots were there. And now everyone wants to pretend like there’s nothing weird about that. Someone took his body. I know it.’
For the first time since Shaun came in, there was silence in the room. Again, Luke’s eyes didn’t move. He was expecting Shaun to say something more. But he didn’t. Luke settled back into the chair and cleared his throat.
‘Okay.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘Okay, Shaun, there’s a lot to talk about here. And I’m glad you realise that there’s still some feelings there about your dad. Because that’s a really tough thing to live through, at any age, your dad dying.’
‘He killed himself,’ Shaun said quietly. ‘He didn’t just die, he killed himself. No-one mentions that.’
Luke nodded. ‘Yeah. Yeah, that’s right, he did. And that’s awful. And we can talk about that and other stuff – but the main reason your mum’s brought you here today is that you’ve been doing some dangerous stuff, okay? Now I’m not saying you didn’t see Tyson at the lake. As far as I’m concerned you absolutely did. And, you’re right, there may be something really dodgy going on. But what’s important is that you start to let that go a little bit. Or at the very least promise your mum and me that you’re not goi
ng to go conduct investigations and sneak into places or try to solve this, okay? Because that’s not your job. Your job is to be in school and be a good son. Yeah?’
Shaun hated that, how adults put a question at the end of long speeches so that you were forced to agree with them.
‘I think I need to talk to your mum for a bit,’ Luke said.
They swapped places, Shaun refusing to look her in the eye as they passed in the doorway.
He sank into the waiting room chair. He couldn’t stand the idea that his mum and Luke were talking about him in there. But it didn’t sound like he was going to have to be admitted to hospital at least.
He was hungry again and had no idea what time it was. He reached into his bag for his phone. He’d turned it off when he arrived at the camp the night before to save battery.
He switched it on again. It was just after one o’clock in the afternoon.
His phone lit up with new messages again. A stream from Will, and his mum. Even Will’s mum. A bunch of missed calls. None from Megan. A bunch of numbers he didn’t recognise. That was probably the cops.
What could his mother or Luke do to make sure he didn’t investigate Tyson anymore? He didn’t really care. The worst they could probably manage was to take away his PlayStation for a couple of nights. She’d done that before. But video games seemed like nothing to him now.
Besides, it wasn’t like there were any other leads to follow up. The trail had run cold.
He stared at his phone, at the long list of numbers.
Then the thought came to him.
There was one more lead.
His battery was at two per cent. He had nothing to lose.
He keyed in the mystery number. And then he raised the phone to his ear.
It rang once. Twice.
He looked at Luke’s door, expecting it to open at any second. His mother catching him in the act.
Three rings.
Someone picked up. Shaun felt the ground disappear.
‘Hello?’
He recognised the voice immediately.