by B M Carroll
Jarrod, too, was a good man. A loyal husband, a loving father, a hard worker. She and Jarrod grew up together, fast-tracked from carefree teenagers to young parents shackled with responsibilities. They learned how to nurture, how to be selfless, how to weather the storms of family life. They grew up together ... but they won’t grow old together.
She gasps. She is having one of those moments. When the shock hits her full pelt in the stomach.
I’m alone. He’s gone. I’m a widow.
Someone is comforting her. Squeezing her shoulders. It’s Tom. Annabel is confused about how he got here so fast, how he noticed from the other side of the room that she needed help to stay on her feet.
‘You’re all right,’ he says. ‘You’re all right ... I have you.’
Grace has kept herself busy. Watching children, food supplies and whose drinks need to be replenished. It’s getting noisy. People are on their second or third drink by now, voices are quite animated, considering the occasion. If she didn’t know better, she could be at a party. A party where everyone wears dark colours and the only music is the rise and fall of voices. A party where tears and laughter are interchangeable and shock binds everyone together.
The children seem remarkably resilient. Billy is playing out in the garden with another boy of similar age. Lauren is reading a book in one of the bedrooms – she can’t cope with the noise levels. Tahlia and Poppy have been helping Jemma and Mia serve food. Even Daniel seems to be behaving himself. He shakily delivered a reading at the service and was one of the pallbearers who carried the coffin out to the waiting hearse.
‘Are you okay, Grace? Anything I can do to help?’
It’s Katy. Zach, Melissa and Luke are here too. Grace has spoken to them intermittently; they’ve all offered to help.
‘No thanks. Everything’s fine for now.’
‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?’ Katy murmurs.
Grace goes to say something but her throat is suddenly blocked. It’s the image of Daniel carrying his father’s coffin. Is there anything more tragic, more irredeemable, more final than that?
There’s an ache in her cheeks. Oh no, she’s going to cry.
‘I ...’ She sobs. ‘I ...’
She wanted to stay strong, for Annabel’s sake, for the children’s sake. Now here she is, unravelling.
Daniel’s image is replaced with one of Jarrod in his rugby jersey, sweaty, passionate, shouting, ‘Come on, we can win this.’
Then Jarrod cradling the new-born Jemma, a look of puzzled wonder on his face. ‘She cries all night. Every minute of the day is spent changing her, feeding her, settling her. I love her to bits.’
Grace has known Jarrod for as long as Annabel has. She is only beginning to realise her own loss.
‘I ... I ...’
‘Oh, Grace. Of course you’re upset. You’re all such close friends.’
Katy gives her a quick hug, as though she understands that Grace can’t succumb for long, that she must stay strong.
Grace pulls away. ‘Thank you ... Sorry ... Excuse me.’
Keep busy. Keep busy. She drifts towards the open-plan kitchen, collecting dirty glasses and discarded plates along the way. The dishwasher is long full; nothing for it but a sink of hot water.
Keep busy. Don’t think about Jarrod on his wedding day: stoic, hopeful, tender towards Annabel. Don’t think about him at the communion dinner: weary, withdrawn, at his wits’ end.
A glass slips through Grace’s wet fingers, shattering on the glossy floor tiles.
‘Damn.’
She bends down and picks up the larger pieces; the rest will have to be swept. One of the shards nicks her finger. It’s a superficial cut, causing a surprising amount of blood. It’s quite mesmerising, watching the blood spurt and bloom. It brings her back in time, to the food tech room. She stands up, her eyes automatically seeking out Melissa. Look what I’ve done. Silly me.
Melissa isn’t with Luke and Zach, where she has been stationed all evening. There she is, zigzagging through the crowd, heading towards the doors that lead outside to the patio.
Melissa’s phone has been buzzing in her handbag and she’s ignored it for as long as she can. She weaves in and out of people until she’s outside. The rear of the house is as tastefully styled as the rest: sandstone paving, modern outdoor furniture, a generously sized pool. Two women are standing at the far end of the patio, talking quietly and smoking. Children are tearing around the garden, playing some form of chase in the dusk.
There are four voice messages on Melissa’s voicemail. One from Samantha, who needs help locating an urgent file. One from Cassie about an HR issue that has blown up late this afternoon. One from Henry – pretending to sound inconvenienced – wanting to know what time she’ll be home, and if he should feed PJ. The last one is from Megan McGrath.
‘Hello, Melissa. You left a voice message yesterday for my husband, Nick. Just letting you know he doesn’t live at this address – he moved out a few months ago. I’d give you a mobile number if I had it. Sorry, his old number seems to be disconnected.’
So Nick doesn’t live with his wife and family. Where does he live, then? Is it possible he’s not in Melbourne, but here in Sydney? Quite suddenly, his whereabouts seem vitally important.
Should she call Megan back? Ask some further questions? When did Nick leave the family home? Why doesn’t Megan have a contact number for her estranged husband? Why does Celia seem unaware of the separation? Does Nick hate their cohort because of what they did to his younger brother? Is he the type of man to hold on to grudges?
Stop, Melissa chides herself. You’re at a wake. You should not be on your phone. Deal with this later.
Another part of her is arguing back, urging her to make the call. You owe this to Jarrod. His family deserve to know who did this and if it has anything to do with the reunion.
The decision is made. She makes the call.
‘Hello?’ Megan sounds as though she has run to get the phone.
‘Oh, hello, Megan, this is Melissa Andrews again. Sorry I missed you earlier. Look, this might sound odd, but is there a possibility Nick has been living in Sydney?’
Silence. Megan seems to be weighing something up. ‘I don’t care where he lives, so long as he isn’t near me or the kids.’
Melissa’s heart does a little jump, like it sometimes does when she solves a tricky problem at work.
‘Megan, something awful has happened and I’m trying to figure out if Nick had any involvement. I’m sorry if this causes offence ... Is he capable of being violent?’
Another, more ominous, silence.
‘We’ve all learned to keep out of the way when he’s in one of his rages ...’ Melissa hears embarrassment, sadness and the quiver of tears. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. Sorry.’
The women have finished their cigarettes and give her disapproving looks on their way back inside. Yes, she knows it’s exceptionally rude to be on one’s phone at a wake, especially for an extended period of time. She should be inside, paying her respects, but her good manners have been overtaken by gut instinct.
Melissa dials another number.
‘Detective Brien? Hello, this is Melissa Andrews. I’m ringing with some information about Nick McGrath ...’
54
ZACH
Zach has left his suit jacket on the back of one of the chairs. His phone is tucked away in the inside pocket. He extracts it and sees there are several missed calls from Izzy. He’s about to call her back when he receives an incoming text.
Outside. Hurry.
He finds Annabel in the kitchen and waits until she puts down a tray of food before giving her a hug.
‘Izzy is outside with Carson ... I’ll call you during the week.’
She pushes a tendril of blonde hair back from her eyes. ‘Thanks for everything. And please thank Izzy for talking to Daniel at the hospital. I haven’t had the chance to say how grateful I am.’
Izzy is not someone who seeks gratitude.
Every day she sees mothers like Annabel in her clinic. She deals with their disappointment, their fears, their grief, their desperation. Her reward is the kids she manages to save.
Zach is in the hallway when Daniel catches up with him.
‘Are you going home already?’ the boy asks tremulously.
Daniel has managed to hold himself together all day. Now it looks as though reality has caught up with him. His father is dead. When everyone goes home today, an incomplete family will be left behind. They will have to learn how to navigate life without Jarrod, resume school and university, everyday tasks and chores, while at the same time contending with the fact that there’s an enormous, unfillable void in their lives.
‘Izzy is waiting,’ Zach explains. ‘She’s outside with my son, Carson. Come and say hello.’
This is how Daniel is standing a short distance behind him when he opens the front door. And Tom, who has been watching Daniel like a hawk, is also nearby, although Zach is unaware of this fact until later. Izzy is directly outside. She must have been knocking and no one heard.
‘Hi, love.’ Zach bends down to kiss her cheek. ‘Sorry I didn’t hear the phone. Where’s Carson? Daniel’s come to say hello.’
Izzy’s silence is his first alert that something’s wrong. Then her face: her skin is drained of all colour. She is afraid. No, not afraid: she is petrified. Her eyes are enlarged, her mouth is trembling. She is trying to tell him something.
Behind me, she mouths.
Behind her there’s the curved front path and some shadowy garden on either side. It takes him a few moments to pick them out. There’s Carson’s silhouette. Someone is with him, someone considerably larger. A man, going by the breadth and height. His elbow is bent. He appears to be holding something. It’s hard to see; they’re standing against a large bush and it’s almost fully dark now.
‘Carson?’ He steps across the threshold, towards his son.
‘Dadda? He gonna cut me. He gonna cut me.’
Zach’s heart clenches with love and terror. This is some horrible nightmare, it can’t be real. His terror is mirrored on Izzy’s face. It is real. Someone has their beloved son. Someone is threatening to harm him. But why? Why? Then Zach remembers. Bottom line is that you don’t deserve to live. It’s him this person is after. It’s him they want to hurt. Carson is the most sure-fire way to do that.
‘Dadda’s coming and we’ll sort this out,’ he says, trying to keep his tone light but there’s a tremor that can’t be disguised. ‘Don’t move a muscle.’
‘Close the door.’ The command comes from a mature-sounding voice. The man would only have a partial view of the door from where he’s standing. Is Daniel within his line of sight? Zach complies and turns to shut the door. Daniel is still there, standing slightly back. How much has he seen, heard, understood? Zach forms a silent shush with his lips, and then – holding his hand close to his chest so no one but the two of them can see – he opens and shuts his thumb and middle finger to form three zeros. A moment later he is closing the door in a very deliberate manner, one that says, Do not, under any circumstances, come out here. He prays that Daniel will understand and call the police.
‘Come here ... Come closer ... I want to talk to you ...’
Zach follows the voice. Izzy too. He wants to tell his wife to stay back but knows it’s pointless. It’s obvious now that this man coerced her into phoning him repeatedly, luring him outside. Izzy will be feeling responsible, though none of this is her fault. Her brain will be in overdrive, trying to establish the best way to protect her son. Carson is her life, her world.
‘That’s enough!’ the man yells when they’re within a couple of metres. Zach is close enough now to establish that he’s holding some sort of butcher’s knife. The blade glints in the dark; it’s being held in front of Carson’s face. Oh God. Oh God. He needs to get that knife away from his son. A man of this bulk could be expected to have slow reflexes. How long would it take him to react if Zach lunged? No, lungeing is a bad idea. His medical training recommends talking in scenarios like these. Conversing with the man until he feels listened to, until he becomes less heated and calms down. Until he sees sense and realises this stand-off will achieve nothing.
‘We’re here,’ Zach breathes. ‘Now, tell us your name and what you want.’
Carson is sobbing and muttering ‘Dadda, Mumma, Dadda,’ but at least he’s staying relatively still. It’s hard for any child to achieve perfect stillness but it’s especially hard for him.
‘What I want?’ The man laughs sarcastically. ‘What I want is my brother to reclaim the last fucking twenty years. What I want is for me and Celia and our parents not to have been out of our minds with worry. Always believing the worst had happened, imagining him lying dead in the street, or his body being dredged from a river ... Do you know what that does to a man? The guilt that you’ve let someone down, the person who was closest to you, who you shared a fucking bedroom with, who you should have been watching out for above everyone else?’
This man is Robbie McGrath’s brother. Melissa’s instincts were right.
‘I’ve said sorry to Robbie,’ Zach enunciates each word carefully. ‘I’ve tried to live a better life since then. I’m a doctor now ... I help people every day, many like Robbie, who’re doing it tough.’
He’s met with silence. Robbie’s brother – he cannot remember his name, although he’s sure Celia mentioned it yesterday – seems to be listening at least. Izzy moves a tiny step closer, her voice bridging the dark.
‘I’m Izzy and that’s Carson, my son, although I think you already know our names ... What’s your name?’
Her tone is friendly, reasonable, hard to resist.
‘Nick ...’ he says reluctantly.
‘Where do you work Nick?’
‘I lost my job a couple of months ago.’
‘That’s a shame ... Were you in retail?’
He clears his throat. ‘I worked in a technology company.’
Izzy is doing her magic. Nick is talking even though he doesn’t want to. Zach’s head scrambles to assimilate the information. Technology. That fits. The know-how to gain access to Katy’s computer and install spyware or some other sort of monitoring program. The ability to set up an untraceable email address.
Izzy tuts sympathetically. ‘Some of my patients work in the technology sector. I’ve heard there have been a lot of cutbacks ...’
Carson has begun to sway from foot to foot. He does this when he’s trying to soothe himself. ‘Dadda, Mumma, Dadda, Mumma.’
‘Stay still,’ Nick barks. ‘Stop moving around.’
‘He has Down’s syndrome,’ Izzy says with supreme calmness; she would normally fly into a rage if someone spoke to her son in that manner. ‘He’s not like other kids.’ She takes another indiscernible step forward. ‘Do you have children, Nick?’
A pause. A sore point? ‘Shut up. Just ... shut ... up.’
Zach notices a movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone is crouched down in the shadows on the right-hand side of the garden. The figure is slowly inching closer. His heart sinks when he realises it’s Daniel. He must have come through the side gate. Oh God, if things weren’t bad enough! Has he at least called triple zero? Is help on the way?
‘Why don’t you put down the knife and we’ll talk this through,’ Izzy murmurs. ‘Maybe you can think of a way Zach can make it up to Robbie and your family ...’
This suggestion makes Nick shout in fury. ‘Are you mad? Nothing he can do can make up for twenty years. We didn’t know where Robbie was. Do you know what that feels like? It’s worse than someone dying.’
‘I know, I know,’ Izzy soothes, edging closer again. ‘I can only imagine what it was like for you all ... But you feel guilty too, Nick. You feel guilty because you didn’t know what Robbie was going through ...’
Zach hears him sob. Izzy has hit home. ‘I was his big brother. It was my job to watch out for him. I knew he wasn’t happy but I didn’t know how bad
it was till I found that stupid yearbook. He hated you, Zach. He wrote in there how much he hated you and Jarrod and the rest of them.’
Zach understands then. How they have got to this point. Nick finding the old yearbook and seeing written evidence of Robbie’s torture. His hatred festering and festering until something – perhaps losing his job or perhaps learning there was a reunion coming up – made him feel compelled to act. He sees another movement, this time on the left periphery of the garden. There is someone else out here, not just Daniel. Two of them, coming from either side, melding with the shadows, edging closer and closer. Has Izzy noticed too? How long before Nick does? Keep him talking. Keep him looking in this direction.
‘I’m incredibly sorry for what I put Robbie through,’ he says. ‘I’m ashamed of what I did, of who I was back then—’
‘You lot and your fucking reunion, you all make me sick. All happy, happy, happy, pretending there was nothing but good times when it was all so fucked up. Nobody cared what happened to Robbie, what became of him.’
Zach identifies the second shape as Tom, Grace’s husband. Today was Zach’s first time meeting him and now here he is, crouched in the darkness. His head is turned in Zach’s direction; he’s obviously waiting for some kind of signal. What if Nick’s reflexes are faster than they think? What if the knife goes through Carson’s throat or one of his arteries or vital organs before they can wrench it from Nick’s hand? What if Daniel, Tom or Izzy get hurt too?
Zach says another quick prayer then nods his head in a signal that can’t be mistaken. Nick doesn’t see them until they’re upon him. Tom goes directly for Nick’s arm, twisting it down and away from Carson. Daniel launches himself on to Nick’s back, closing his hands around his neck, trying to cut off his airway. Carson is free within moments, screaming in terror as he runs into the safety of his father’s arms.
‘Dadda, Dadda, Dadda!’
Zach attempts to hand him over to Izzy so he can help restrain Nick but his son won’t let go; he can be surprisingly strong at times. Nick has already managed to dislodge Daniel, the teenager falling awkwardly against the retaining wall on one of the garden beds. Nick’s arms – thick, muscled, capable of untold damage – swing into action. A punch connects with Tom’s shoulder, bone crunching on impact. Then, before Tom can recover and retaliate, a blow to the midriff, or maybe the lower ribcage, which leaves him doubled over in pain.