55

by James Delargy

  Chandler followed the finger. He couldn’t see anything out there but trees and dirt. ‘Something?’

  ‘A piece of cloth it looks like. It might indicate—’ He turned to his son. ‘Go, check it out.’

  The boy scrambled to his feet and was about to set off in the direction his dad had pointed in.

  ‘No. Stay here,’ ordered Chandler.

  Arthur looked up at Chandler with hurt and tired eyes. ‘It was there . . . blowing in the wind.’

  ‘We’re all blowin’ in the wind by now,’ said Mitch, out loud and full of contempt.

  ‘Show some respect,’ said Chandler.

  ‘You show some decency and tell him the truth.’

  ‘What truth—?’ started Arthur but Chandler had turned on his partner.

  ‘The truth? The truth is that you’re a self-centred bastard, Mitch, and you better pray this never happens to you.’

  ‘It won’t. I’m not going to be stuck in this backwards shithole for ever. I’m heading to Perth to deal with some real crime, not arseholes too stupid to find their way back after a hike. If they even wanted to be found in the first place. Like you said yourself: we’re policemen, not grief counsellors.’

  Chandler looked at Arthur. His head hung low, too tired or cowed to raise it, his fists clenched as he stared at the red earth. Chandler felt like stepping up and doing the job for him by punching Mitch in the face. But that wouldn’t negate the fact that what Mitch had said was true; he had uttered those words. But that was before. He wanted to explain himself to Arthur but words failed him.

  Mitch turned and stormed off back towards camp alone, against all rules and common sense.

  ‘I’m clearing up and heading back,’ said Mitch without turning. ‘You can continue babysitting the fucking Taylors if you want to.’

  47

  Taylor. Arthur Taylor. A surname that should have been hard to forget given the circumstances but Chandler had lost it amongst the unusual names out there. Mercenaries called Chaz, Blazz, Bagboy and Yippy, deliberately obtuse. But Taylor . . . it rang a bell.

  Suddenly Chandler remembered why. He had seen it recently.

  He paused by the desks, filtering out Heath’s bleating cries. Even the chorus from the cells drifted into nothing but a background hiss as he struggled to comprehend what this information meant. He was still struggling even as he loaded up the foster records Perth HQ had sent. It now suddenly made sense. Why Gabriel knew so much about the search for Martin, why he knew so much about his and Mitch’s past. And the Hill.

  He had been there.

  Gabriel Wilson had been previously known as David Gabriel Taylor, the younger brother of Martin Taylor, his new name burying the past to clear the way for the future.

  The memories flooded back. The kid – Davie, as Chandler now recalled Arthur calling him – had been eleven or twelve at the time of Martin’s disappearance. And eleven years later he had returned, only twenty-two or twenty-three, though he looked older, his skin ragged, his body scarred and beaten, nothing like the innocent floppy-haired kid he had been back then.

  With the truth laid in front of him Chandler wondered how he hadn’t recognized him before. Gabriel had certainly recognized Chandler, though he supposed he hadn’t changed much over the years. Still a cop in Wilbrook, only a few kilos and a couple of kids heavier. But Gabriel – Davie – looked like a completely different person.

  Why had Gabriel come back? Revenge? And if so, revenge for what? And why had he killed six people before presenting himself? The sweat dripped down Chandler’s forehead and splashed on to the desk. His body felt like a pressure cooker with no vent, building and building, about to explode at any second. His entire life about to explode. He tried to focus. The reason for Gabriel’s return was important but wasn’t the most urgent issue – his kids were in danger. Other possible motives forced their way into Chandler’s mind. Did Gabriel – David – feel they gave up the search for Martin too early? Or that they hadn’t done enough to help? But if Gabriel truly was after revenge for his brother, why did he not take it earlier, as soon as he knew Chandler still lived here? And if he was after revenge and just wanted to kill Chandler’s family, why was he offering a swap? To kill them all? To take his kids and the witness? To finish them all off?

  All he wanted to do was speak to Gabriel. Now. Speak to him and speak to his kids.

  A cry from the cells interrupted him; Nick pleading for Chandler to give himself up. To not do whatever he was planning to do.

  ‘I know who he is – who Gabriel is,’ said Chandler, replying to thin air. ‘I know how he knows this town and why he knows me. Why he knows Mitch. Everything. I’m going to meet him.’

  ‘Not with me you’re not,’ said Heath, rattling his cuffs in vain, his voice desperate.

  ‘Let us out, Sergeant Jenkins,’ Flo shouted from the other cell. ‘You’re just making this worse for yourself.’

  ‘I’m not sure it can get any worse,’ said Chandler.

  ‘If you’re going to meet him, you’ll need backup,’ shouted Nick. ‘I can help, Sarge.’

  With Nick’s offer to help, a plan formed in Chandler’s mind. A plan that he couldn’t carry out on his own. He needed a third person. Nick could be controlled. He hoped.

  ‘Have you ever shot someone, Nick?’ asked Chandler.

  The lack of a reply told Chandler all he needed to know.

  ‘I don’t know who’s the biggest fuckin’ nutjob.’

  Having given up on trying to break free, Heath had listened with growing incredulity as Chandler explained what was happening.

  ‘I have to get them back,’ said Chandler, trying to invite support from his hostage.

  It failed.

  ‘By trading me in? Like a fucking casino token.’

  ‘It’s a trap. I’ve got it worked out.’ Chandler didn’t reveal that though he had figured out the basics, his supposition was still less than comprehensive. ‘I need your help.’

  Heath shook his head vigorously. ‘You’re not gettin’ it.’

  ‘Nick will be covering us.’

  Nick stood at the far wall, hands out in front of him wearing the cuffs Chandler had insisted putting on him before he let his young constable out of the cell. Chandler was still trying to ascertain if Nick was going to assist or resist.

  ‘Well that fills me full of hope,’ said Heath, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Suddenly his face lit up. ‘Ha! Well you’ll never get me out of here without me blabbing to the press out there. I’ll tell them what’s going on, that you’ve flipped and—’

  The ringing phone interrupted him. They all stared at it. If it was Mitch or one of the others ringing in and it went unanswered they would grow suspicious.

  ‘Sarge, you can’t take him,’ said Nick. ‘You’re a police officer. And he’s a member of the public you’ve sworn to protect.’

  Chandler squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t need Nick to remind him of his oath but the images of Sarah and Jasper imprinted behind his eyeballs superseded all other considerations.

  ‘I have two other members of the public to protect, Nick.’

  ‘And what makes them better than me?’ spat Heath.

  A million things. Every fucking thing. Chandler closed his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking.

  ‘Sometimes it’s necessary to take a risk,’ he said.

  ‘Not with my life.’

  ‘I have no choice,’ said Chandler.

  ‘There’s always a choice, Sarge,’ offered Nick.

  Chandler shook his head. ‘Not this time.’

  As eager as Chandler was to exchange Heath and get his kids back, a major sticking point remained: how to get a non-compliant hostage and possibly non-compliant Nick out of the station without being seen. The phone continued to ring in the background, halting for a few seconds, before returning with vigour.

  An idea formed. A shot in the dark but with a central tenet he knew would hold firm: the curiosity of the press.

 
Leaving Nick and Heath, Chandler exited the front door to address the assembled crowd. Shouting over the questions fired at him, he swiftly informed them that Gabriel had been found and surrounded. He tried to keep his demeanour calm and assured as he ‘accidentally’ let it slip where the ongoing siege was taking place, naming the abandoned Potter farm south of town, far from Wilbrook, far from any phone coverage.

  A few follow-up questions were aimed in his direction but they were choked short as equipment and vans were hurriedly loaded, directions googled and relayed, each crew desperate to be first on the scene, first to report on the story of the summer.

  Chandler watched them leave; the press running off, the locals drifting home to follow the updates as best they could on television.

  Before long the car park was empty. He scanned the surroundings for the demonic figure of Gabriel but there was nothing.

  Ducking back into the station, he looked at Heath and Nick as he dug something from the charity clothing box.

  ‘Time to leave.’

  ‘What did you do?’ asked Nick.

  ‘I gave them a better story,’ said Chandler. He leaned down towards Heath who cowered against the wall. ‘Now, Mr Barwell – Heath – I’m going to uncuff you from the pipe. Are you going to remain calm?’ Chandler glared at him, trying to intimidate him into compliance.

  There was no response. Heath’s eyes were glassy.

  Chandler turned the key, pulling the opened metal loop from the pipe. ‘Your other hand please,’ he said, then continued, ‘You won’t be hurt.’

  ‘You don’t have to do this,’ stuttered Heath.

  ‘I do,’ said Chandler. ‘This is the only way to stop him. You’ll be a hero.’

  ‘I don’t want to be a hero. Heroes die,’ said Heath.

  ‘Not this time.’

  ‘Can I at least get a gun?’

  ‘You don’t need one. I’ll have one. And so will Nick.’

  Slipping the cuff over Heath’s other wrist, Chandler closed it and helped his reluctant prisoner to his feet. He led them both outside.

  On taking his first step into the night air, Heath yelled for help, his voice carrying across the empty tarmac and buffered between the concrete buildings. It was a disappointing but expected response. Chandler leaped forward and stuffed the old T-shirt he had taken from the charity box in the office for this purpose into Heath’s gaping mouth, stifling the yells.

  While Heath continued to scream into the gag, Nick remained pliant. ‘Where is everyone?’ he asked.

  ‘Gone to witness Gabriel’s arrest,’ said Chandler, pushing Heath into the back of the police car. Before he could do the same to Nick his young colleague held his hands out.

  ‘You said you needed me, Sarge. For the plan. So you can take these off.’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Chandler.

  He didn’t need any more surprises. He needed time.

  48

  Chandler drove back towards the dirt car park where they had gathered earlier to follow Gabriel back out to his burned-out lair. This was the designated meeting point and it now made perfect sense. This place was as much a cruel memory to Gabriel as it was to him.

  At the beginning.

  As he snaked the car up the dirt road, Chandler explained the full situation to his passengers, that Gabriel had taken Sarah and Jasper hostage and wanted Heath in exchange for them. He then explained the plan as Heath, through the gag, made his feelings quite clear on what he thought about being the bait, his stubborn kicks against the back of the driver’s seat as expressive as words. But Heath’s role was merely to be present at the exchange. It was Nick’s help that Chandler required. He hoped that now Nick had a complete understanding of the situation, the young man would do his job. If everything went to plan, Nick would be the real hero.

  If everything went to plan. The lack of assurance made Chandler almost throw up.

  Not wanting to come to a complete halt in case Gabriel was tracking the movement of the headlights as they approached, he slowed to a crawl before the car park came into view, stretching over to unlock Nick’s cuffs. There was a tense second as Chandler waited for his reaction. If he decided to resist . . .

  But his young constable didn’t make any move to attack, opening the door of the car and diving out of the slow-moving vehicle, disappearing swiftly into the darkness, his heels only briefly flashing red in the glow of the brake lights.

  Chandler continued his slow crawl to allow Nick time to get into position. He was terrified. This was the first time that he had allowed Nick out of the station, to participate in an operation, and his life, Heath’s life and the lives of his children were all on the line.

  He hit the brakes at the entrance of the car park and scanned it for any sign of activity. Nothing moved apart from the gradual spread of condensation on the inside of the windows. Reaching back he pulled the old shirt from Heath’s mouth. His prisoner gasped for air.

  ‘Where are we?’ he demanded.

  ‘Close to where this all started,’ said Chandler.

  ‘How are you going to ensure I’m safe? They might be your kids, and I’m very fucking sorry for that, but I don’t want to give my life for them.’

  ‘Do you trust me?’ asked Chandler. This was the part he needed to go smoothly, the part out of his control.

  ‘Trust you? You’ve kidnapped me!’

  Ignoring Heath’s outburst, Chandler continued, ‘What’s going to happen is that I’ll bring you over and ask for the exchange to happen at the same time. You – for my kids. When you and they pass in the middle Nick will take the shot.’

  Spoken out loud, the plan sounded reckless and exceptionally risky, each word rotten and diseased, poisoning his guts.

  ‘And how good is he?’ said Heath, understandably searching for some hope to cling on to.

  ‘He passed weapons training and simulation.’

  ‘Simulation? You mean he’s shot at some fucking cardboard cutouts! Give me a gun,’ pleaded Heath. ‘I’ve at least shot some kangaroos. Distance shots too. I can get close and take him out.’

  ‘Or shoot me,’ said Chandler.

  ‘You have to trust me,’ said Heath with a sneer.

  Chandler stared at Heath. Though there seemed little virtuous about him, he was a human being. And he was innocent. Chandler couldn’t force him to put his life on the line.

  Chandler climbed out of the car.

  ‘Where are you going?’ shouted Heath, his screech dulled by the reinforced windows.

  Chandler leaned back inside. ‘To the meeting.’

  ‘Without me?’

  ‘Without you.’

  ‘And you’re just leaving me here? What if he kills you and then comes get me?’

  ‘If he kills me, Nick will shoot him.’

  With that Chandler left the squad car behind and walked up the lane towards the car park. He hoped he was doing the right thing. He hoped that he had given Nick enough time to get into position. And that the kid was able to shoot.

  The gravel shifted under him with each heavy step. Chandler felt like he was getting nowhere, as if hiking through the forest again searching for Gabriel’s brother.

  49

  2002

  With Mitch gone Chandler joined father and son underneath the trunk of a well-foliaged tree. The worries of the father were now mirrored on the boy’s face, ageing him prematurely.

  ‘Maybe he’s right,’ said Arthur, speaking as he exhaled, the words falling to the dry earth. He looked at his son and then to Chandler.

  ‘He’s only right if you feel he’s right,’ said Chandler.

  ‘I can’t make judgements on how I feel,’ said Arthur. ‘I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know if I ever will.’

  The old man was looking for Chandler to make the decision to leave. And though Chandler wasn’t sure where they came from, words started to tumble out. And once they started he couldn’t stop them.

  ‘Call it off, Arthur. Martin’s lost and there’s no need to los
e you and Davie as well. He wouldn’t have wanted that.’ Pausing to suck in some hot, dry air, he continued, ‘Not everything out here, maybe anywhere, can come to a closure. There will always be an element of mystery but it’s up to you – up to us – to keep Martin alive in our hearts. He’s part of the earth now, part of this forest. And always will be.’

  Chandler looked at them. With the truth out in the open he felt relieved. It was more than could be said for father and son. Arthur’s head had sunk between his legs but Davie stared at Chandler, his face filled with shock as if trying to come to terms with what the voice of authority was telling him. With the limber ease of a child, he picked himself up and wandered away. Chandler searched for words to stop him but found none.

  Arthur’s voice floated into the silence between them.

  ‘I don’t want Martin’s spirit to wander here.’

  ‘You have your wife and Davie to look after. You’ve done your best,’ said Chandler. The old man began to sob, reality becoming apparent to him in all of its nauseating glory. But Chandler couldn’t dwell on the old man’s misery. There was what to do next to be considered. First up – a call to base to get the chopper in the air and out to them. Then press statements confirming the conclusion of the search and thanking everyone who took part in it.

  It was a sobering and tiring thought. What came next? The page would be turned in time, the contents of the last chapter steadily forgotten.

  Chandler looked up. Davie was gone. The younger brother had disappeared like the older one.

  ‘Davie?’ shouted Chandler into the patch of outback where the boy had last been.

  Helping Arthur to his feet he prepared to chase the boy. The tears had gone from the old man’s eyes, replaced by dread. Abandoning all precaution that had become instinct, they set off after him, stumbling through bushes and shrubs, crying out for an answer and getting none. Chandler’s panic grew. Mitch had been right. He should have called this off earlier. When the surviving family were still safe.

  He crashed through the low canopy of the trees, a rotten branch snapping his stupidity back at him. Arthur quickly fell behind, only his warbled yells overtaking Chandler as they scoured the landscape for the clash of the bright blue jumper against the dull red earth. Chandler’s feet scuffed the earth, ripping seedlings from the harsh soil. His hair tangled in branches that dragged him back as if it didn’t want him to see something. Surely the boy couldn’t have got far? Unless he had started running.