by J. M. Adele
Gone.
The word stamped into my frontal lobe with the fall of a gavel.
Gone? What did it mean, gone? And what the hell was it, anyway?
I flipped open a magazine that had been abandoned on the bench seat, staring through the pages until the print became blurred, scribbled blotches. It was like my mess of thoughts had tumbled onto the paper in a haphazard chaotic porridge.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
I should’ve made her stay.
Dead.
With a gasp, I tossed the magazine away, not bothering to hang around. I jumped on my bike, unlocking it before racing home.
“Mum!” Bursting through the door, I skidded to a halt finding Ben, Kelly, Stewart, and the brunette in the lounge, taking turns on the PlayStation.
“She’s in the kitchen.” Ben glanced my way before fixing his eyes back on the game.
Kelly didn’t smile. She edged closer to Ben and watched me until I’d left the room.
Whatever, honey. If you want him, you’ve got him. I didn’t give a shit anymore. There were way more important things to worry about than who the fuck was dating who.
“Mum!”
“Yes, what is it?” She spun around from her position at the sink.
“Jess. I think she’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Gone. Gooone. Dead. He killed her. She’s—” My breath sawed in and out, stealing the words from my mouth.
“Sweetheart, slow down. What are you talking about?” The gloves landed on the sink with a slap as Mum pulled them off.
“Can you ring her house?”
“Of course.”
She picked up the receiver and punched in the number I gave her.
“It’s engaged.”
“It was engaged yesterday and Saturday, too.” I shook my head, eyes as wide as a scream. Tears blurred my vision.
I jumped as the phone started to ring.
Mum answered. “Hello.” Her forehead creased as her eyes fell to mine. “What news?” Hand tightening on the phone, her lids dropped closed and a tear slowly seeped out.
I leaned my back against the counter for support, the strength draining from my muscles.
“When?” She opened her sorrowful eyes. “Saturday afternoon. Are they continuing the search?”
Oh, God. They haven’t found her yet.
“No, she’s right here. I’ll let her know. Thanks.” Her mouth curled in a weak smile. “I love you too. Don’t forget to pick up Bree at three. See you later.” She placed the handset down and cleared her throat.
I held my breath.
“That was Peter. He saw Jess’s mum in town. Jess stormed off on Saturday afternoon and hasn’t been seen since. They don’t know where she is.”
I do.
Not her body. But I knew where her spirit was. If there even was a heaven.
“I need to tell the police what she told me about the creeper.”
“His name is Cameron.” Her tone held disapproval.
I didn’t care. He’d made Jess uncomfortable. That was enough for me to put a big goddamn spotlight in his face and handcuffs on his wrists.
“Leona told Peter they’d spent the morning in Yeppoon and had only been home for an hour when they had an argument and Jess left. She said she wouldn’t be back. Apparently, she’s done this before. They’ve been driving around looking for her. He hasn’t left Leona’s side, honey.”
“That’s her story.”
Mum tilted her head, her bottom lip puffing out before pulling me in for a hug. “Leona is a mess. Do you really think she’d cover up for someone if she knew they’d hurt her baby? Not a chance. Honey, let the police do their jobs. Hopefully they’ll find her quickly. She may even come back on her own.”
No, she won’t.
She can’t.
God, I was so confused and frustrated. If he didn’t do it, who did?
Rage boiled behind my skull. I needed answers. I needed someone to pay. I needed my friend to be okay.
It didn’t look like any of those needs would be fulfilled.
Jess was gone. And no one could get her back no matter how long they searched.
A ringing took over my hearing like the receiver in my head had switched channels. The floor wavered under my feet. I was thankful Mum was holding me or I might’ve fallen in a heap.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Stewart crossed to the fridge.
Mum lifted her head. “I think it’d be best if your friends went home for now, Stew.”
“Why?” He stuck his head in the door, cold air curling at his feet in a mist.
“Because something bad has happened and your sister needs quiet.” Mum raised her voice.
“What happened?” His head popped up.
“Stewart, just do as I ask or I’ll kick them out myself.”
“Okay, damn.” He lowered his head again, reaching in for the milk.
“Stewart!”
“I’m doing it. Just let me have a drink first.”
She let go of me and marched to the lounge. Stewart dumped the milk carton on the bench and chased after her.
I spun and held onto the bench, trying to decide what to do with myself. Jess was dead. I wanted to deny it. I couldn’t.
Decision made, I retreated to my room. I didn’t want to see Stewart or his friends.
We were all under the illusion that we had any control over our lives. We could try and force things, engineer opportunities to get us what we wanted. But if it wasn’t meant to be, it would be taken from us regardless.
There was a greater force in charge than any weak human attempt we made.
And sometimes that force was an unjust bastard.
Andrea
Brisbane, Australia
26th December, 2016, 1:22 a.m.
Oh, my God. This hurts like a bitch.
I cried out as the muscles in my abdomen clamped with a force I’d never believed was possible. Sweat dripped down my neck as the breath sawed from my lungs. I curled around my concrete uterus, under siege until the pain subsided, before collapsing back against the mattress. My arms and legs lay limp beside me in a strange, detached limbo as I tried to decide if I had the energy to move them.
My uterus was in control. I wasn’t.
Flopping my head to the side, I speared Ben with an accusatory look. He gazed back, blue eyes filled with pleading apology. Emotions broiled inside me with the ebb and flow of each contraction. So many that I couldn’t grasp them. I’d been at the mercy of my uterus for thirty-one hours and counting.
“You bastard—aargh.”
Shoulders seizing, I tipped my head toward my chest in protest at the excruciating agony surging through me once more. “It’s ... your ... bloody fault.” The words squeezed through gritted teeth, and between pants.
The midwife patted my leg, each tap shooting pins into my flesh, making me flinch. “You’re doing really well, Andrea.” She didn’t meet my eyes, and her voice caught on my name as she watched the monitor beside the bed. I shook my head and pressed my eyes shut in denial. The knowing came anyway. Something is wrong.
The pain eased off again, leaving only a little relief in its wake. I figured I only had a minute’s breathing space before it would return with even more force. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes before Ben’s callused fingers brushed my cheek, wiping them away. Flopping my head back, I lifted my eyes to the ceiling and prayed. Help me.
“Shh. You can do this, Andy.”
“I can’t bloody do this. You’ve implanted me with a monster!”
Wincing as the words slipped out, I wanted to grab them and smoosh them back into my mouth. Dropping my head, I rubbed my belly. I didn’t mean it, baby. You’re a blessing.
Gripped in a vice of crushing pressure, I could do little but twist my head to the side and cry as I rode out the agony.
I can’t do this. Something is wrong.
Tears came in a torrent now as the last of my energy reserves drained away. I
was vaguely aware of the obstetrician at the foot of the bed, poking and prodding at my girly bits. I didn’t care. I’d left my dignity at the door before I checked in two days ago. His voice came in clipped tones, nipping at the heels of the nurses. My attention piqued when I caught one of the words.
Caesarean.
“Andrea.” The doctor leaned over me, his brow scrunched so tightly that all the lines seemed to merge into a mountain range of concern.
I blinked. That was as much as I could manage as another contraction surged through me.
“We’re taking you to theatre to do a Caesararean. The baby is stuck in the birth canal. He’s a big one, and we’re concerned that his heart rate keeps dropping. Okay?”
My heartbeat thumped harder as if it could make up for the deficit in my child. The gloom of my emotions darkened. My baby is in trouble.
I nodded in agreement. Ben’s warm hand gripped my fingers tighter and he leaned over, brushing a kiss against my sweaty forehead. Even set in grim lines and covered in scruff, his face was beautiful to me. I searched every feature, scared that this would be the last time I’d get to see him. Somehow I knew that my life, and the life of our baby, hung in the balance. The thought was so solid in its presence that it couldn’t be denied as it sat on my chest. I fought it, the meaning so abhorrent that I could barely comprehend the repercussions.
My fingers flexed in Ben’s grip. After all we’d been through, it couldn’t end this soon.
The next contraction inflicted a pain so intense it felt like I’d been ripped in half. Eyes rolling back, I wanted to scream, but couldn’t find the strength. Wetness gushed between my legs and my heart stuttered in my chest.
“Why is there so much blood?” Ben’s frantic voice broke through the buzzing in my ears.
The bed started to move and the scuffle of shoes on linoleum grew louder with the shouts of the medical staff. Fluorescent light flicked across my closed eyelids and a shiver ran through me as the cold hospital air rushed past the bed, seeping its way into my skin.
The knowledge continued to sit heavy and melancholy on my chest, slowing my heart.
It couldn’t end this soon. Could it?
The chill seeped deeper.
Ben’s palm slipped out of mine.
Yes ... it could.
_____
Andrea
Rockhampton, Australia
2nd of July, 2006, 4:38 p.m.
Propped on my bed, I stared at my feet, the TV screen flashing a moving backdrop behind them. There was still no sign of Jess. I’d seen footage of Jess’s mum and her boyfriend, Cameron, sitting behind a table in a press conference. They’d appealed to the public for any information on her missing daughter. Leona had been a total mess, red eyes, quivering bottom lip, leaning on the guy I suspected had done her the most grievous of injustices. I’d watched him through narrowed eyes, looking for any hint that he was a liar. He’d kept his arm around Leona’s shoulders, appearing suitably sullen.
Jess’s face flashed across the screen with every news update throughout the day. Her disappearance was the top story along with a fire at Mount Archer National Park, a fatal shooting during a jewellery store robbery, and Michael Schumacher winning the US Formula One Grand Prix for the fifth time. I knew this because I hadn’t left my room or turned off the television for a whole week. I kept it on mute, only turning the sound up when the news came on.
Bree would curl up at my side a couple of times a day and I would stroke her hair and cry. Even Will had come to visit. I think I freaked him out by bursting into tears and he hasn’t been back since.
Mum and Peter were letting me wallow, but I could tell they were growing tired of my personality one-eighty. Every time she’d collect the food tray left at my door she’d sigh, taking in the cold, soggy plateful left behind. I might’ve picked at bits here and there, but they sat in my stomach like pebbles irritating my twisted gut. My emotions had me swinging on their vines. Disbelief, anger, denial, depression. If I let go, I feared I would fall into a bottomless pit.
How could Jess be gone? If only she’d stayed over, maybe she’d still be alive.
Cameron. What did the news say his last name was? Thwaite? I sat up, throwing my legs over the edge before standing. Bursting through my door, I followed a path to the computer in the living room.
“Andy!” Mum squeaked.
“Yeah?”
“You’re up.”
“I am.” I booted up the computer.
“What are you doing?”
“Just gotta check something.”
“Okay.” Her voice cracked.
I raised my eyes from the screen and caught sight of a tear running down her cheek. Pushing my chair back, I ran over to her and wrapped my arms around her waist. “I’m sorry I’ve been out of it. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”
She bobbed her head, swallowing. “Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?”
“I can get something later.”
“I made pancakes. Would you like some?”
It would make her feel better if I ate. “Sure, that’d be great. Thank you.”
She went to the kitchen and I opened the web browser before typing in Cameron Thwaite. Opening another tab, I typed in things to do in Rockhampton, just in case Mum came back. I stared through the screen, thinking of what I could search rather than reading about the town I’d grown up in. Things to do in Rockhampton—go to Yeppoon.
Waiting until she’d put the plate next to me and left the room, I switched tabs. Cameron Thwaite. He had a profile on Facebook. I clicked on it. His face appeared. I clicked in the about section. He was fifty-four. In a relationship with Leona Barrett. Works as a manager at Bulldust Bar ‘n’ Grill. Jesus, it was scary what you could find out about a person online.
I absently picked up a pancake and stuffed it in my mouth. Mm. Damn, I was starving. Flicking through his photos, I stopped at one with him, Leona, and Jess. He sat between them, with his arms around their shoulders. Leona and Cameron were smiling. Jess looked as though her cheeks were made from plasticine. Had the police even treated him as a possible suspect? So what if his alibi was solid? Maybe he had someone working for him and they’d grabbed Jess, holding her until Cameron could do whatever evil he’d planned while Leona slept.
I dropped the rest of the pancake on the plate, the masticated food in my mouth travelling down my oesophagus at the speed of a traffic jam. I screwed up my nose and waited for the discomfort to ease.
Abandoning the idea of food, I clicked through a photo album until I found one of him with another young girl. They had their temples together, locked in a side-hug.
Who is she?
He hadn’t tagged her, but there were several more photos of them together. I stopped when I found one with a comment.
‘Happy birthday to the love of my life, Bella. I still remember the day you were born.’
He had a daughter.
“Please tell me she’s alive and well,” I mumbled to myself.
I searched for a Bella Thwaite, but came up blank.
“Hey, Mum?” I closed Facebook and went back to my search on Rockhampton.
She came rushing into the room. “Yes, honey. What is it?”
Guilt had me slumping in the chair. She looked so eager to please, I hated using her like this, but she wouldn’t agree with what I was doing. “Can we go to Bulldust Bar ‘n’ Grill for dinner? I feel like a steak.”
“Oh, that would be lovely. I’ll call Peter and tell him.”
And I’ll pack a notebook in my handbag. I was going to need it.
_____
Rockhampton, Australia
2nd of July, 2006, 6:39 p.m.
Bulldust Bar ‘n’ Grill had a prime position overlooking the Fitzroy River and plenty of glass windows to take advantage of the view. I wouldn’t call it classy. It was comfortable and neat. Jeans and an Akubra weren’t out of place at all. Neither was a longneck beer, judging by the patrons lined up at the bar.
&
nbsp; “I’m going to grab us some more water.” I stood and was gone before they could tell me the water bottle was already full. So it was full. I didn’t care.
I sidled up to one end of the bar where a young woman was putting away glasses. “Hi. Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“How can I help?”
“My name’s Andy. I’m thinking of applying for a job here and was just wondering what the manager is like.”
“Cam? He’s great.”
“Really?”
Really?
“Yes. He gives me all the public holidays and lets me have a Friday night off once a month so I can have a life. Know what I’m sayin’?” Her grin was cheeky.
No, I’m fourteen. I spend Friday nights on the couch.
“So he’s okay with young women? You know how creepy some bosses can be.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that with Cam. He’s like an old woman—very protective of his staff.”
“Right.”
“Would you like an application?”
“No, I’ll think about it some more. Thanks for your help.”
“No worries. Enjoy your meal.”
“I will.” Not.
I passed the water station and swiped a fresh bottle before making my way back to the table. Sitting in my seat was none other than the man himself. I waited just behind him as he recounted how distraught Leona was and how her mother was staying with her to help her through this difficult time. My senses didn’t prick. The hair didn’t rise on my arms. I didn’t get a pain shooting down my neck.
It wasn’t him. He didn’t do it.
I was both relieved and stricken at the same time, the conflicting feeling warring in my stomach.
Thank God it wasn’t him. How would Leona ever forgive herself for bringing a monster into her daughter’s life, if that had been the case? But now I was at a dead end. Literally.
Who the hell had killed Jessica Barrett?
_____
Call me John Doe
Rockhampton, Australia
24th of June, 2006, 6:16 p.m.
I drove along the quiet suburban streets, the window cracked just enough to invite the smell of cut grass. I hated the smell of freshly mowed lawn. It was a Saturday staple, just like the sound of a football siren during the season, or the growl of a motor boat on the Fitzroy River. Fucking straight-laced suburbia. What about the squealing of tyres as someone burned rubber to make their mark on the main drag? Nah, it wasn’t allowed. The fucking cops would nab you and your car.