by Kylie Ladd
But she’d held back. Of course she had. It had been awful to watch Charlie squirm and stutter her way through the two interviews she’d had with Terry so far, and Rachael had no desire to be the one shining the spotlight in her face. And yet she wanted information, details, everything Charlie could give her. It wasn’t about if the man had touched her or interfered with her, which Matt seemed so hung up on. It was all of it: being captive, a prisoner. If she could understand what Charlie had actually been through, was still going through, then maybe she could find a way to help her somehow, could do something more for her than simply stroke her hair or keep offering food. But Charlie clearly didn’t walk to talk about it, had drawn the experience around her like a cloak and tied it shut. Two days, Rachael told herself, swallowing the coffee without tasting it. Today’s her third day home. Give her time. It’s not about what you want or what you think she should do. You just have to be there for her.
Someone shuffled into the room and Rachael looked over, expecting it to be Dan, but it was Charlie. ‘Hey,’ she said, standing up to hug her. ‘How are you? You OK?’
Charlie evaded her arms and sat down at the table. ‘Yeah. Sort of.’ She fiddled with the edge of a placemat before finally looking up. ‘I keep thinking about Blue. The dog where I was … kept. Do you know what happened to him?’
Rachael shook her head. ‘Sweetheart, I’ve got no idea.’
‘Oh.’ Charlie went back to toying with the placemat, her face wan and listless.
‘Are you hungry?’ Rachael asked, and when Charlie didn’t answer she added, ‘Would you like me to find out?’
‘Could you?’ Charlie asked. ‘If Col, the man, is gone, there’ll be no one feeding him, and he must be hungry and cold. He won’t know what’s happened.’
Rachael was already moving towards her phone. This. This was something she could do. She brought up Terry’s number and he answered on the third ring.
‘Terry,’ she said, not bothering to identify herself. He’d know her voice. ‘Charlie’s talking about a dog at the property where she was held, and she’s worried about what’s happened to it. Do you know anything?’
She held on while he went to make enquiries, Charlie’s blue eyes trained on her from across the room. They were like bruises, Rachael thought, dark smears of hurt against her pale face. She needed some sunlight. She needed to put on weight. Maybe they should have a holiday, head north, where it was warmer.
‘Are you there?’ Terry asked. ‘Yeah, one of the guys here remembers him from when they went out after the fire. He thinks he got taken to the pound. It’s not far from here. Do you want me to find out?’
‘That would be wonderful,’ Rachael said. ‘Can you let us know? His name’s Blue, apparently.’ Charlie stood up and walked over to her, wrapping her arms around Rachael’s stomach. ‘And if you find him,’ Rachael added impulsively, ‘could someone bring him here? No one else is going to claim him, are they? We’ll take him.’
‘Oh, shit,’ Dan said.
‘Literally,’ Hannah giggled. Even Charlie smiled a little, the corners of her mouth flickering like candles. Dan scooped the offending brown nugget up in a tissue and raced to dispose of it in the toilet, washing his hands before he returned.
‘This dog has clearly never been house-trained,’ he said, settling back down onto the floor next to Hannah. ‘It was lucky Mum wasn’t here to see that.’ Blue looked at him and wagged his tail.
They were in the lounge room at the back of the house. Hannah had called during school to ask how Charlie was, and Dan had invited her over to meet Blue.
‘She’s going to come all that way just to see a dog?’ his mother had said, overhearing.
‘And Charlie,’ he told her, ignoring her smirk. It was probably time to get a mobile. Charlie had spent most of the day lying on the couch watching Glee, Blue nestled by her side. He’d barely left it since he’d arrived the previous afternoon, delivered by two young constables in a divvy van clearly bemused by this addition to their duties.
The dog had looked terrified as he was brought into the house, ears and tail pulled close to his body, but he immediately recognised Charlie and had gone straight to her, shadowing her for the rest of the day. She had thrown her arms around the animal and buried her face in his neck with a sob. It should have been a happy moment, but for some reason it had made Dan so sad that he’d had to look away.
Today was better. Blue seemed calmer, and Charlie did too. The dog had even torn himself away from her briefly, coming over to sniff Hannah when Dan had brought her into the room, then leaving his deposit on the carpet before returning to Charlie. Glee was still playing, but the three of them were watching Blue now.
‘Do you think he’s been taught anything?’ Hannah asked.
Charlie shook her head. She’d always been such a chatterbox, but it seemed she’d hardly said anything since she’d been home, just yes or no or thank you. He’d heard her cry out a couple of times, though, during the night, had even got up once to go to her, but his dad was already in the hallway and had told Dan to go back to bed.
‘Blue, come!’ Hannah commanded. The dog raised his head and regarded her through narrowed eyes, then dropped it back into Charlie’s lap.
‘You might have more luck with stay,’ Dan remarked. Hannah laughed. He could never get tired of that sound.
‘What about we try a ball?’ she said. ‘Play fetch. Could we do that, Charlie?’
‘Sure,’ she shrugged. ‘If you can get him to.’
‘I don’t even know if we’ve got one,’ Dan said. ‘I mean, we’ve got basketballs and netballs and footies, but nothing that a dog could fit in its mouth.’ No pets. That had always been the rule. They made too much mess; they were too much of a responsibility. No matter how much he and Charlie had pleaded or swore that they’d do all the work, his mother had held firm. Children always said that, she’d replied, right before they lost interest. The chickens had been a compromise suggested by his father and given the green light only because they lived outside and pulled their weight. This whole thing with Blue, then, had been a complete turnaround. Forget no animals in the house—all of a sudden there was a dog in the lounge, on the couch, probably tucked up in bed with Charlie overnight for all Dan knew. He’d asked his mother that morning where Blue had slept the previous night and she’d said in the laundry, then looked away just a bit too quickly. His turn to smirk.
‘Shall we take Blue for a walk?’ Hannah looked at Charlie, then back to Dan.
‘We don’t have a lead,’ Charlie said. ‘He might run off.’
‘I’ll go find some rope or something,’ Dan said, standing up. It would be good to get out of the house. He’d been home, inside, ever since Charlie had been found, and the walls were starting to close in on him. Blue probably needed to get out too, if his earlier behaviour was any indication.
‘Don’t,’ said Charlie, placing one hand on the dog’s neck. For the first time Dan noticed that he didn’t have a collar. ‘I don’t want him to go.’
‘Come with us, then,’ Hannah said. Charlie shook her head.
‘No. There’s still people there.’
It took Dan a second to work out what she meant. Press, journalists. Most had packed up after the first two days, but a few still lingered, camped out in their cars or smoking on the nature strip. He’d heard his mother complain about them when she needed to go to the supermarket, but he hadn’t realised Charlie was aware of them too.
‘They won’t hurt you,’ he said with more assurance than he felt. Charlie just rolled her eyes.
Hannah looked at her watch. ‘My brother’s picking me up soon, anyway.’
‘Let’s go out the back, then,’ Dan said. Suddenly he was desperate for fresh air. The house was too warm; the room stank of dog and the noodles his dad had made Charlie for lunch.
‘I’m staying here,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ve had enough time outdoors.’
Dan didn’t know what to say to that. She’d barely told hi
m anything of her life while she was gone, and he wasn’t sure if he should ask. Did it look bad if he didn’t, like he wasn’t interested, or was it worse to press her for details and make her live through it again? He had no idea, and no one had given him any direction. Better just to say nothing and keep his head down. He had a lot of practice at that.
It was only just after five but the sun was already setting and the evening air had a bite to it. Blue nosed under the hedges and relieved himself against the lemon tree.
‘Good choice,’ Hannah said. Inside their coop, the chickens caught the dog’s scent and clucked to each other nervously. Blue had one last sniff then went and stood by the door, waiting to be let back in to Charlie. Dan opened it for him, then sat down next to Hannah on the stone bench overlooking the lawn.
‘She looks tired,’ Hannah said. ‘Thin, too.’
‘I don’t think she’s sleeping well, and she can’t eat properly because of her jaw. Just mushy things—pasta and soups and stuff. I offered to melt her some chocolate in the microwave but she told me she never wanted to see it ever again.’
‘That was nice of you.’ Hannah reached for his hand, her fingers warm against his. Dan took a deep breath.
‘I have to tell you something.’ She looked at him expectantly, one half of her face hidden in shadow. No going back now. ‘Before I met you—before Charlie was kidnapped, for most of my life, really—I was always sad. I don’t know why. I had no real reason to be, but I was. And I feel better now. I feel much better, and I’m not sure if it’s you or if it’s that Charlie isn’t dead, but I had to tell you, in case it comes back.’
She didn’t look away. ‘Do you feel OK now?’
He nodded. ‘Mostly. I mean, I feel sad sometimes, when I see Charlie and I think about what happened to her, but the sadness isn’t in me anymore. It’s something that happens, but it isn’t all of me, it’s not deep down, like it was. Does that make any sense?’
She squeezed his hand. ‘Yeah. I’m glad. That must have been pretty crap.’
A surge of gratitude went through him. ‘It was shit. I had no idea how shit until it went. Just gradually. Each day was a bit better until one morning I woke up and it wasn’t there anymore, you know? It was like something had been sitting on my chest, like a cat or something, and then it got off and I could breathe again.’ He was babbling now, light-headed with relief. ‘But I never told anyone, because it just sounded weak and stupid. It wasn’t like I had a real problem, not like what happened to Charlie, and it’s not that I’m not upset about that too—’
Hannah laid one finger against his lips. ‘Ssssh. I get it. I know you care about Charlie. The only other thing I need to know is if you’re OK now, like I asked. Yes?’
‘Yes,’ he murmured, looking into her eyes.
‘Good.’ She leaned forward and rested her lips briefly against his. ‘That’s all that matters, and that you tell me if you start feeling that way again. Will you do that?’
‘I will,’ he said. It felt like a vow.
Matt was hanging out the washing when the call came. For as long as he could remember, this had been his job, at least on the days he wasn’t working an early shift. He had more time than Rachael, who in her haste to leave the house each morning tended to dump the clothes in the machine, turn it on and then rush out the door before it had even finished filling. More to the point, he enjoyed it. The rhythms of the task soothed him: stoop, shake, peg, repeat. The sun on his back, the chooks pecking around his feet, the satisfaction of the rows of clean shirts and matching socks when he had finished. It was the closest he ever got to meditating, Matt reflected. Buddhism for househusbands.
He had stepped back to admire his work when he felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket. It had become a habit when Charlie went missing, carrying it everywhere, and he reached for it automatically. Terry’s name flashed across the screen.
‘Hello,’ Matt said.
‘We bloody got him!’ Terry didn’t even bother with a greeting, his voice elated. For a moment Matt was confused.
‘Huh?’ he said.
‘We found him. The guy who took Charlie. At least we think it’s him. It has to be. He’s burned and he admits his name is Col, like she said.’
Matt reached for the clothesline to steady himself. He’d been so focussed on Charlie—on having her back, on helping her heal—these past few days that he’d pretty much forgotten about her abductor. He was a spectre, the bogeyman, he wasn’t real. Except now he was, and suddenly Matt wanted to kill him.
‘How?’ he asked. The wire of the Hills Hoist bit into his palm.
‘I haven’t quite got the full story, but it seems he was injured in the fire that Charlie set—burned, or part of the stable fell on him, or both. He turned up at the local hospital, Greenhills, a day or two later—he was probably there when my boys were searching his house. He gave a false name, but one of the nurses thought he was a bit dodgy and questioned him a few times, and he must have got the wind up him and done a runner.’
Tikka was bock-bocking at Matt’s feet. He bent down to give her a pat and ended up sitting on the grass beneath the clothesline, phone clutched to his ear.
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘She was pretty cluey, this nurse. She’d seen the bulletins, she put two and two together, so she called Crime Stoppers. I’d like to buy her a drink. Anyway, so they got in touch with my station, I sent the troops out to look for him—and you’ll never guess where they found him.’
‘Where?’ Matt asked. Terry was enjoying this.
‘He went back home!’ Terry crowed. ‘He’s clearly no rocket scientist. He was hiding under the bed!’
‘The bed,’ Matt echoed.
‘Yeah. Jason told me he was all curled up against the wall with a blanket over his head, and when they pulled it off him a bit of his ear came away.’
Despite himself, Matt winced. His ear? None of this made sense. None of it was connected with Charlie, with his little girl still asleep in his bed. Five nights now she’d slept there and neither he nor Rachael had the heart to send her back to her own room. What did it matter? She could sleep there until she moved out as far as he was concerned.
‘Are you still there?’ Terry asked.
‘Yeah,’ Matt mumbled. He roused himself. ‘What’s he said, this bloke? Did he tell you why he did it?’
‘I haven’t spoken to him yet. I’m on my way to the hospital now, though from what I hear he’s pretty badly hurt. He’ll probably be too drugged to interview. We’ll get it out of him eventually.’
Matt lapsed back into silence. The ground was wet; he could feel the seat of his pants becoming damp.
‘Listen,’ Terry went on. ‘If it is him—and I’m sure it is—we’ll need to bring Charlie in to identify him. I know what a horrible thought that is, but it has to be done. There’ll be a court case, you realise that, don’t you? This is part of it. It won’t take long, and we can all stay with her the whole time.’
Matt swallowed. ‘When?’
‘I’m not sure. Soon. I’ll call you when I know more. This is bloody great news, though, Matt, it really is. It’ll help Charlie put it all behind her, knowing he’s been caught—that he’s not going to hurt her again, that he’s going to jail.’
Terry ended the call, but Matt remained on the grass. Put it all behind her. Could Charlie ever do that, or would the abduction remain with her for the rest of her life, sullying her future, changing her forever? Her pale, skinny body, all angles and points; the expressions that flitted across her face when she didn’t think she was being watched. How on earth could she recover from what she’d been through? How did anyone recover? That woman he’d pulled out of her car the week or so before Charlie was lost—was she better now? Could she walk again, could she hold her baby, could she breathe in the scent of petrol without wanting to scream? He dreamt of her sometimes. He dreamt of all of them—the children whose eyelids he’d closed, the swaying men he’d cut down. Trauma stained you, it staye
d with you, it got under your skin like a bad tattoo.
Matt pushed himself to his feet and slowly stood up. The chickens abandoned their scratching and rushed to him, hoping he was about to scatter some grain, but he shooed them away. He had to tell Charlie. Rachael too. He let himself back into the house. Rachael was standing in the kitchen, drinking her coffee and staring out the window.
‘Is Charlie up yet?’ he asked her. She answered him without turning around.
‘Just. She told me she was going to have a shower and not to bother her.’
‘I have to bother her,’ he said. ‘Terry just called.’ He left the room and headed down the hallway towards the bathroom before she could question him further. Blue was stretched out in front of the closed door, whining softly.
‘You don’t like being separated from her, do you, boy?’ Matt asked. He made a mental note to check with Dan and Charlie that the dog wasn’t being allowed into the backyard, at least while Tikka, Parma and Kiev were out. They probably knew not to, but everyone was still adjusting to this new member of the family. He knocked on the door. No answer. He listened for a second to make sure the water wasn’t running, then knocked again. When there was still no reply Matt eased it open a crack and called in to Charlie.
‘Dad!’ she screamed and shoved the door shut, but not before he’d glimpsed her hair. On the basin, on the floor, dripping from the scissors she held in her hand—everywhere, it seemed, except still on her head.
‘Are you ready?’ Terry asked. Charlie nodded.
‘Pull your hood on,’ Rachael said, then stepped forward to do just that, until Charlie waved her away. ‘It’s wet out there.’
‘Head down, remember? No eye contact. Straight down the steps and into the car.’ Charlie nodded again, her small face pale in the gloom of the hallway. ‘It’ll be OK,’ Terry added, more gently. ‘I’ll look after you. Your mum too.’ He took a deep breath. ‘OK, on the count of three.’