55

by James Delargy

  As they reached the top the landscape opened out, the tops of the trees blanketing the ground, impenetrable but at least offering shelter from the unremitting sun. An overwhelming sense of isolation swept over Chandler, the view both wondrous and frightening. Not many people came this far, not even if they were crazy. He wondered why Martin would have come here. There were easier ways to kill yourself.

  He reminded himself that it had only been a week. There was still a chance Martin was alive.

  Taking his first steps down the other side of the Hill, Mitch’s voice came into earshot, ordering the volunteers to spread out. Some of them didn’t hide their irritation at the barked orders, but Chandler could see that Mitch didn’t care a jot. He wondered again if Martin could survive out here for a week. He wondered if Arthur could. If Mitch could. If he could.

  11

  ‘Right, this is what you’re going to do, Sergeant Jenkins.’ The all-knowing, all-condescending voice came over the speaker again, impossible to ignore. ‘First – make sure that the State Highway Police have a description of the man we want.’

  ‘Gabriel,’ interjected Chandler, feeling the need to add something of value. He wished that Mitch would dispense with the formalities. He was acting as if they had never met.

  ‘Get them a good description, one that covers the fact that he might alter his appearance in some way.’

  ‘Done,’ said Chandler.

  ‘Most importantly, lock down the roads. The main routes—’

  ‘I don’t have enough officers to do that,’ said Chandler.

  The response was calm. ‘Calls have been made to bring in the state police to help.’

  ‘That’ll take time, Mitch—’ Chandler decided to play the game. ‘Inspector Andrews . . . and Gabriel may be long gone by now. Blocking the roads could be bolting the barn door—’

  Mitch butted in, his stringent tone making it evident that he didn’t appreciate his decisions being questioned. ‘We have to try and put some sort of lid on things, Sergeant Jenkins. After your mess. Letting a prime suspect just walk out of the station . . . no, worse than that, chauffeuring them to and putting them up in a hotel. At the taxpayers’ expense. Extending an incredible compassion to criminals.’

  Chandler imagined the smug pockmarked face on the other end of the phone and decided to remind Inspector Andrews of a salient fact. ‘Gabriel might not be a criminal.’

  ‘Let’s catch him first and let the experts decide that, shall we?’ There was a momentary pause. ‘Plus, there’s a third thing that you have to do – and that is keep this out of the papers. At least until we gather more evidence. We don’t want the investigation hindered by the press.’

  ‘Total blackout?’

  ‘Total,’ confirmed Mitch.

  ‘What do I tell my townspeople?’

  ‘Nothing, Sergeant Jenkins. Informing them only presents another opportunity for a leak. Five minutes and it’ll be all over Twitter and Facebook. That’s how things work these days. Instant access to instant news. You might not realize that down there. And reports that you let one of the main suspects go missing would not look good for you, Sergeant.’

  This Chandler understood, but not warning his friends and family that a potential serial killer was wandering the streets wasn’t particularly agreeable either.

  ‘I think I should tell them.’

  ‘I insist you don’t, Sergeant Jenkins.’

  ‘Chandler, Mitch – it’s Chandler. You know that.’

  There was a slight pause. ‘If you put the word out, Sergeant Jenkins, it will only make matters worse. It may start a panic that could assist our suspect’s escape. Plus, the consequences of disobeying a direct order are severe, as you know. Now I will be there very soon so—’

  ‘You’re more than four hundred and fifty kilometres away. You—’

  ‘Three hours,’ said Mitch in response. ‘I’ll be leaving promptly, so, Sergeant Jenkins, I would appreciate it if you made space at the station for myself and my team and have some form of refreshment ready.’

  Inspector Andrews paused.

  ‘And, Sergeant Jenkins . . . try and not to make the situation any worse in the meantime.’

  There was a click and then the dial tone rang out loudly, as if Mitch had dropped the mic after a final, unbeatable insult.

  There was a momentary silence in the room – as if in remembrance of Chandler’s dignity. Seeking to redress the balance somewhat, he spoke to his troops. The message wasn’t positive but it was honest.

  ‘Things are about to get nasty.’

  There were nods from the group huddled around the table but it was Nick who was the first to speak up.

  ‘I dunno what went on between the two of you, Sarge, but that bloke’s an arsehole.’

  Tanya chimed in. ‘An arrogant arsehole.’

  It was Chandler’s turn to nod. ‘I’d keep those opinions to yourself for now. Let’s get to work.’

  Despite the crushing feeling of being disrespected in front of his employees, Chandler set about following Mitch’s instructions.

  ‘Tanya, take 142 and the highway until State get in position. Luka, you’re on Daly’s, in case he heads south rather than north. I’ll send Jim to Stockman’s and we’ll have to hope that’s enough. And be careful out there. We don’t know what he’s capable of.’

  Nick spoke up. ‘Maybe he’s using the same means to get out as he did in.’

  ‘Unlikely,’ said Chandler, but pleased that his young constable wasn’t afraid to get involved. ‘He came in by bicycle, according to his statement. But check for any reports of a car, bike, tractor, any vehicle, having been stolen today.’

  Luka and Tanya exited just as Nick confirmed there were no reports of a vehicle having been stolen. Chandler had suspected as much. In a town this small anything as severe as grand theft auto, even grand theft bicycle, would have been pounced on immediately. It served as a reminder of just how serious things had become. From being relatively starved of action, they now had a potential killer in custody and another on the run. As life tended to do to Chandler, it never rained but poured, plague then flood, a wife, then none, no kids, then two to care for on his own.

  But this flood threatened to overwhelm them all before they had a chance to draw breath.

  Fifteen minutes later and he had confirmation that Luka, Tanya and Jim were in position and that all was quiet. He knew that it would be stupid of Gabriel to exit via the main roads – if he hadn’t gone already – but it was the least they could do. The least expected of him by Mitch.

  Nick was slumped behind the front desk, a picture of frustration.

  ‘I’ll get you out there soon,’ said Chandler, hoping it was on something a little more routine than this.

  ‘When? How often does this happen?’

  Chandler sought to comfort him. ‘Put it this way, Nick. I never expected this kind of thing to happen here and it did. So if it can happen here, it can happen anywhere and the best way you can help right now is by staying behind that desk at the centre of things. You might not think that you’re seeing action but we can’t leave the phone unmanned and the place unguarded, especially with one suspect in custody and another out there who might have tried to kill him. If he tried once there’s nothing to say he won’t try again. You might not be on the front line out there, but you are in here. Now get a description of Gabriel to the state police.’

  Nick nodded, sitting up in his chair.

  Chandler didn’t like or approve of the next instruction but gave it anyway. ‘And remind them to say nothing to the press. This is hush-hush, no Facebook, no Twitter, no Snapchat.’ Chandler listed them off like he knew what he was talking about even if it was only what he had picked up from his daughter. He was stuck, with nothing to do but wait for news to filter through or backup to arrive. His conscience squirmed at withholding this secret from everyone in town but he had to grudgingly admit that Mitch might have been right. They didn’t need a general panic right now.
>
  With no idea when he would get to see Sarah and Jasper again he called his parents. As ever, Jasper was first to the phone.

  ‘Hello?’ he chirped, full of enthusiasm. Chandler’s youngest possessed an inquisitive nature or internal voice that insisted he poke his fingers into things he shouldn’t or take things apart and leave them in a scattered mess for others to rebuild.

  ‘It’s me, Jasper.’

  ‘Daddy!’

  The boy practically screamed into the receiver.

  ‘Yes, it’s Daddy. What are you up to? Is everyone in the house?’

  I’m just checking, he assured himself; he wasn’t providing any forewarning, just confirming where they were.

  ‘Umm, yes, Grandpa and Nanna are watching TV and Sarah’s in her room.’

  ‘Very good. Why don’t you ask Grandpa to put a video on for you?’

  That would keep them both inside and out of trouble.

  ‘But you said that it’s not good to be in the house all day.’

  ‘I know but sometimes it is okay. Now go get Sarah for Daddy.’

  The receiver clacked. His son had dropped it and left it to hang. He glanced at the front desk. Nick was talking to dispatch, putting out Gabriel’s description.

  ‘Yeah?’ The voice was irritable, the complete antithesis to her brother. Sarah wanted nothing more than to get back to her iPhone. He had tried to wean her off the addiction but given the amount of time he spent at work it had proven impossible, engrossed as she was with everything from Angry Birds to Candy Crush, to well, any game where animals were shot in and around obstacles. He’d tried one of them once. He didn’t get the appeal.

  ‘It’s nice to hear your voice too,’ said Chandler.

  ‘Yeah, Dad, I’ve got things to do.’

  ‘How was rehearsal for First Confession today?’

  It was the only thing other than her phone that she was excited about. The chance to show off in front of her friends.

  ‘Yeah. There’s a final rehearsal to go but we won’t be wearing our dresses. They don’t use the right words either but I’ve been talking to Nic and Amy and they—’

  ‘Have you asked your brother to help?’

  ‘Jasper? No! Why would I want him to help? He doesn’t know . . . he’s a . . . he’d just mess things up.’ She sounded horrified at the thought.

  ‘Ask him for me. I know he’d want to help.’

  ‘But what help could he—?’

  ‘Anything,’ interrupted Chandler. ‘Just so he doesn’t feel left out.’

  There was a pause, a huffed breath, the indignity seeping from the receiver. ‘Okay, something,’ she said, then added, ‘Dad?’

  ‘Yes, honey.’

  ‘When are you coming home?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Maybe not tonight.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Something’s come up.’

  ‘Oh. Okay.’

  And that was that. The disappointment at her father not coming home easily overcome. He was disgusted that she was so used to his absence she didn’t even question it. No wonder Teri had brought a custody case against him. He wouldn’t admit it to her but she was right, he did spend too much time at work. But what Teri failed to grasp was that he was in charge of a small force with a large area to cover. A valid excuse. Plus the fact that they were a man down after Bill’s retirement last year. Another excuse that may not fly when it got to court. But that was a battle for another day. A quieter day.

  ‘Daddy?’ It was Jasper. How long had his mind drifted? Chandler scolded himself that he couldn’t even manage to give them his full attention during a five-minute phone call.

  ‘Yeah, I’m still here, Jasper.’

  In his head he pictured his son at the other end of the receiver. Nine years old and only just brushing four and a half foot, his hair a briar untamed by brush or gel. Only a liberal dose of water anchored it down sufficiently enough to plaster it into shape.

  ‘I seen the go-kart in the garage today. Can we take it out when you come back?’

  The go-kart had been last summer’s project. It already seemed like years ago. Since summer’s end it had been sitting in the back of the garage waiting to grab the boy’s attention again.

  Chandler thought about getting him to ask Grandpa, but let it slide. Keep them inside, he reminded himself. He need not have worried. Jasper had already squelched that option.

  ‘Grandpa’s no good. He’s too old. He can’t push me around. He gets tired too easy.’

  Chandler smiled at how angry Grandpa would be if he heard that. ‘Yes, don’t you go making him run around after you. I already warned you about that.’

  ‘Yes, Daddy.’

  Chandler glanced at the front desk. Nick remained on the phone. ‘Now get Nanna or Grandpa for me, will you please?’

  ‘Okay. Bye, Daddy.’

  ‘Bye, Jasper.’

  There was an immediate rustle of the receiver. His mum’s voice seared across the wires, already on the warpath.

  ‘So you’re not coming back?’

  ‘How much did you hear?’

  ‘Enough.’ The biting squeak of exasperation. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

  As ever, his mum was sharp as a tack. She understood that her son not coming home when he had promised meant something significant had happened and she wanted to know what. There was an insistence in the tone as if she felt she deserved to know and wouldn’t stop until she had weaselled the information from him.

  ‘Just something,’ said Chandler. ‘All I can tell you is to stay indoors.’

  There was a slight pause. ‘That sounds serious.’

  ‘It might be.’

  ‘You expecting a great storm?’ she said, cryptically as if she thought the lines were bugged.

  ‘Don’t worry about me.’

  ‘The day a mother doesn’t worry is the day they put her in the ground.’

  ‘Mum,’ said Chandler, frustrated. ‘Don’t talk like that.’

  ‘It’s just a saying.’ Her voice turned quiet. ‘Just don’t go putting yourself in danger.’

  ‘That’s what they pay me to do.’

  ‘Not enough.’

  On that Chandler could agree.

  His mum continued, ‘Okay, you go on. Your dad says hi.’

  She hung up. It was her standard end to phone calls. Chandler knew that his dad hadn’t said hi at all. In fact he probably wasn’t even aware of the conversation, engrossed by something else entirely, the TV, the paper, or whatever it might be. When his dad got it into his head to do something, his attention was as hard to capture as his nine-year-old grandson.

  Even though the phone had gone silent, Chandler could still hear his mum’s words. Don’t go putting yourself in danger. He might not have a choice. Currently there existed two options: that he had either a very scared and flighty witness on the loose somewhere around town – or a cunning and resourceful mass murderer.

  12

  Chandler itched to be out on the streets. But only once everything was in place could he consider adding his boots to the operation. So right now, he was in the same purgatory he had forced Nick into, having to accept his station behind a desk.

  State confirmed they could have troopers in place within the hour. Nick’s trawl through social media had confirmed that all was quiet in town aside from a couple of rumblings about the cops being more visible than normal. Nothing extraordinary. Things were being kept under control. Swept under the rug, his conscience reminded him. He had been able to indirectly warn his own family to stay inside but the rest of the town remained vulnerable.

  As he awaited the inevitable slew of calls and requests he decided to test Nick.

  ‘What do you think might have happened after Gabriel escaped the hotel?’

  Nick tore the headset off, as if he had been itching for Chandler to ask.

  ‘Right – so here’s what we know, or can assume given that he left via the fire escape. From there he makes it down to the street, a str
anger in a strange town, so to speak. If I was him, I’d head towards somewhere I know. Or something I know. That means whatever he used to get into town.’

  ‘A bicycle,’ recalled Chandler.

  ‘Exactly. But cycling out of town is conspicuous. And we know no cars, or large vehicles, have been reported stolen. This leaves something smaller, a quad bike perhaps? Something like that might not be noticed by the owner for a while. Especially if it was stowed in a barn.’

  ‘Okay, let’s suppose that,’ said Chandler, coat-tailing his young constable’s assumptions. ‘Then where? All the way out of town on a quad? And further? Pretty dangerous once it gets dark with the ’roos licking dew off the white lines.’

  ‘Back roads?’

  ‘Possibly. Hard for us to cover.’

  ‘Or he stayed in town,’ offered Nick.

  ‘Possible,’ said Chandler, ‘but there aren’t too many places for a stranger to hide here. And he said he was in fear of his life. Scared people don’t stay still.’

  ‘Assuming he’s innocent, of course,’ said Nick. ‘If I was a killer on the run, I’d look for someone to get me out of town.’

  Chandler nodded, as impressed with Nick’s deduction as he was with the zeal with which it was delivered. He added to it. ‘Maybe he acts like a lost tourist. He’s picked up people blagging lifts or has blagged lifts himself so knows what to say, what to do. He uses his charm to get into the car and forces them to drive him out of town.’

  ‘It’s how I’d do it,’ said Nick.

  ‘That’s good thinking, Nick,’ said Chandler. ‘Get on to Tanya, Luka and Jim and tell them to be on the lookout for locals heading out of town, in case it’s under duress. Get them to check the vehicles but warn them to be subtle about it – don’t escalate things.’

  ‘I could be your resident expert on this,’ said Nick, quickly undoing some of his good work. ‘I have an insight into how a serial killer’s mind works.’

  Chandler was about to remind him that police work had little to do with TV but was interrupted. Heath was calling for attention.

  Leaving Nick on the phone to Jim, Chandler entered the holding area.