Six Minutes

by Petronella McGovern

  The whump-whump-whump of a helicopter drowned out his voice. Hopefully it was a police helicopter searching the ridge.

  As the track opened out at the top, Marty scanned the grassed area, desperate to catch sight of his little girl. But the hilltop was empty. Leaning against the white trig post, puffing, he could see Merrigang at the bottom of the ridge. Splashes of white and pink blossoms dotted the streets; the promise of warmer weather after months of winter frosts. Looking at the curl of the streets, the tears that had been threatening for the past few hours overflowed.

  Four weeks ago, up here, Bella had put some keepsakes in his pocket—a twig, a pebble and a yellow leaf. Back then, they’d both been enamoured of the bush; now he wished they lived somewhere else, surrounded only by suburban streets that could be searched methodically rather than this ridge and the hills with their secret hollows and crevices. Where were Bella’s treasures now? His fingers felt in his pocket, as though the pebble would magically appear. Instead, he touched his mobile phone. Time to check in with Lexie.

  The conversation was short—Marty told her he could see a helicopter out searching. She said she knew that.

  Marty turned slowly in a circle—a panorama of Canberra suburbs to the east, Merrigang on the other side, farms, gum trees, grey rocks, bushland and the Brindabellas in the distance. He cupped his hands around his mouth and roared: ‘BELLA! BELLA! BELLA!’

  A scrubby bush nearby shook as startled birds took flight, the flap-flap-flap of their wings the only response to his shout.

  Then his mobile rang. He whipped it out of his trouser pocket, desperate for good news.

  But no. It was work.

  ‘Have you found her?’ It was one of the nurses, rushing the question out.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Oh, Dr Parker.’ A soft sigh down the line. ‘I’m sure she’ll turn up soon. You know, Canberra is a very safe city.’

  Judging by the children they saw in the hospital, he knew that wasn’t strictly true. The worst could happen to any child any time. Car accidents, kitchen burns, playground injuries, drowning, falls from bikes, sporting injuries, child abuse, leukaemia, SIDS, poisoning, dog bites, choking, suffocation … the list was endless.

  Would the police look up Bella’s file from ER?

  ‘Did you get Dr Thompson up to the NICU?’ Marty asked.

  ‘Yes, he was there an hour ago,’ she answered, echoing his professional tone. ‘I’ll organise for him to do your rounds this evening and tomorrow morning.’

  Marty wrapped up the conversation and pressed end on his mobile, not wanting to hear any platitudes.

  The NICU: neonatal intensive care unit. Bloody hell, he didn’t want to have to think about those babies today. The latest was a premmie with an intracerebral haemorrhage. Concerns about hydrocephalus. They should have ordered an ultrasound by now. Had they done that? Marty used to enjoy the challenges in there, trying to win the fight for those tiny little bodies. Not now. Hope and heartbreak. Heartbreak and hope. For some babies who survived with medical interventions, it would become a never-ending circle. Ongoing illnesses and operations, severe developmental delays or cognitive disabilities. Sometimes they saved a premature baby at birth only to have him die six months later with pneumonia.

  A few weeks ago, on a Thursday, he’d been ready to leave for the day when he was paged for the NICU. That evening had been a good news story: the baby’s oxygen levels had improved and she had rallied.

  Marty had driven home, feeling that this move to Canberra had been the right decision for them. He’d pulled into their driveway and sat in the car for a moment, admiring their brand-new home. All concrete and aluminium and timber. Clean, stylish lines. The blue-grey of the walls matched the blue of the gum trees in the paddocks behind the house. Solar panels on the roof, a rainwater tank out the back and high windows angled to let in the light but not the heat of the sun. Marty had never loved a house before. This one was something different. Built on the ashes of the Canberra bushfire.

  Opening the steel-blue door, he had called out: ‘Where’s my Bella Ballerina?’

  Bella raced down the hallway and launched herself at him. Marty swung her upwards, feeling her sticky hands on his cheeks as she kissed his nose.

  ‘What did you do today, honey?’

  ‘I filled buckets. More than Morgan. She took the digger. I had the spade. I was fast.’

  ‘Do you mean in the sandpit? Was it playgroup this morning?’

  ‘Thomas hit me. He wanted the lello spade.’

  ‘The yellow spade,’ Marty corrected her and hugged his daughter tighter. ‘Where did he hit you?’

  ‘In the sandpit.’

  ‘Yes, in the sandpit. And on which part of your body?’

  ‘My tummy. It’s sore.’ Bella took her hands from his shoulders and rubbed her stomach in big circles. ‘He hit Morgan in the face.’

  ‘Ouch, how was Morgan?’

  ‘Her nose had red blood.’

  ‘Poor Morgan, poor Bella.’ Marty kissed her forehead and deposited her on the floor. ‘Let me have a look at your tummy.’

  Oh Christ, what a night to be late. Lexie would be beside herself. Why couldn’t the parents control those twins? Wasn’t the dad in the army? Surely, he could dish out some effective discipline. Maybe that was the problem. Too much hitting from the father. Bella lay on the rug with her jumper held up for him to check her tummy. A red mark but no bruising and it didn’t seem tender when he pushed it. He blew a loud raspberry on her belly and she giggled.

  ‘Now, where’s Mummy? Is she in the kitchen?’

  ‘Talking to Auntie Pheebs. She hurt her knee and has to have an op-er-ashun,’ Bella sounded out the word, then jumped up and grabbed his hand. ‘Come see my picture.’

  Bella’s drawings were strewn across the table in the family room. Lexie was standing by the sliding doors, talking on the phone and staring out at the night sky. Marty admired his daughter’s pictures while listening to snippets of Lexie’s conversation.

  ‘I know it’s only one small step but I did it.’

  ‘No, it’s different for him.’

  ‘He’s still having the nightmares.’

  Bella interrupted Marty’s eavesdropping by yelling: ‘Dadda, THIS one! It’s my BEST! Our house with a cow and a dog and a cat and a horse and a mouse. The dog is called Woof. I put my purple fairy in the garden. Can you see her?’

  Seconds later, Lexie had hung up the phone and was kissing him hello.

  ‘That was Phoebe on the phone,’ she told him. ‘She sends her love.’

  Unlikely.

  Marty felt the spot on his cheek tingling where Lexie had kissed him. He never knew what mood she would be in when he arrived home late. Marty wanted to tell her not to speak to Phoebe about his nightmares but decided he wouldn’t ruin the good moment. Lexie was humming as she took the steak out of the fridge and poured a glass of wine for them both.

  ‘You seem happy,’ he said.

  His wife jerked her wineglass, spilling a few drops on the counter.

  Perhaps ‘happy’ had been the wrong word to use. But goddamn it, she was allowed to be happy. Surely it was time for both of them to find some kind of happiness again. Marty glanced at the bottle of red. Was it the same one as last night or had she finished that and opened another? Maybe he should start marking the bottles. The trick was to turn the bottle upside down and dot the level with a permanent texta.

  Lexie took a slug from her glass. Then another slug. Finally she spoke.

  ‘I had a good day. A really good day.’

  Marty nodded for her to go on.

  ‘Playgroup was good.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And I’ve been invited to dinner with the mums on Tuesday night.’

  Should he ask her about Thomas hitting Bella or not mention it? The playgroup mums were Lexie’s one social group. Although, it seemed to be a women-only thing; there were no family get-togethers on the weekends. Apart from Tara, whom they’d bumped into on the ridge, he
hadn’t met any of the others. Marty had suggested meeting up with Elissa and some parents from the hospital but Lexie refused. Back in Sydney, she’d had groups of friends from uni, netball and the museum. And a book club too. She used to make friends so easily. Collect them wherever she went. Back then, she’d been carefree and confident.

  ‘It sounds like you’re really fitting in. I’ll come home early on Tuesday and I can drive you to the restaurant.’

  Lexie hadn’t been out with a group of women for so long. Perhaps it was a good thing that she’d refused to socialise with people from the hospital. These days, Marty would prefer to keep Elissa to himself.

  ‘That’s okay—Tara said she’d pick me up.’

  ‘So I won’t get to meet them all?’

  Did she talk about him to this group of women? What had she told them?

  ‘Maybe another time,’ she said, pulling out a knife to chop the carrots.

  ‘Where are you going for dinner?’

  ‘The Thai restaurant at Weston Creek.’

  God, how he’d like to take his wife out to a Thai restaurant. Any restaurant really. They used to go out all the time when he wasn’t on call. Before. But she wouldn’t let Bella be babysat. Maybe the gardener, Deirdre, could help out—she was the grandmotherly type. They’d take it step by step. If Lexie could enjoy this dinner with the other mothers, then maybe the next one could be the two of them together. He missed his wife.

  And maybe Lexie should do another postgraduate course. She’d finished a Master of Museum and Heritage Studies at Sydney Uni years ago, just before they’d met. One of the universities here must have a relevant research program. He’d look online for courses and find the right moment to bring it up. It could ease her back towards work. Bella would be at preschool next year and at school the year after. Lexie would need something to keep her occupied. Unless they had another baby.

  ‘Who’s going to dinner?’ he asked.

  ‘All five of us. Julia, Imogen and Mel will meet us there. Tara’s still breastfeeding—that’s why she’s driving.’

  ‘Did they grow up around here?’

  ‘Not all of them. Tara’s husband and Julia’s husband are cousins. That’s how Tara ended up in playgroup.’

  ‘Ah, Merrigang—such a small place. How do the others know each other?’

  Marty was deliberately trying to extend the conversation. He was enjoying their casual chatter—and perhaps if he could keep Lexie talking, he’d find out what she’d meant when she told her sister on the phone: It’s only one small step but I did it.

  ‘Well, Julia and Imogen went to school together—between them, they seem to know everyone.’

  ‘In Merrigang or the whole of Canberra?’

  Lexie laughed. ‘The whole of Canberra. You know the nation’s capital is just one big country town.’

  Marty sipped his wine and watched her, waited. He saw Lexie open her mouth, close it again, turn slightly and call out to Bella. No, she wasn’t going to tell him. Another secret stored up.

  The shadows of the trees were lengthening as Marty jogged back down the trail, collecting his jacket on the way. When he reached his car, now in the shadow of the hills, he shivered and fumbled with his keys. Once the sun set, the temperature would drop quickly. Last night, it had plummeted to four degrees.

  Marty saw the men in orange overalls as he parked the car near the playgroup. So the volunteers from the State Emergency Services were finally here. He plotted the nearby streets in his mind: Banksia Terrace leading off towards their house, Acacia Drive meeting up with the two bigger roads, Waratah and Melaleuca. The school, the ovals, the local shops. In this small community, so many people knew each other. Why hadn’t anyone seen Bella? Marty felt they were missing something obvious. Was she stuck inside a tiny hiding place—a drain or an old shed or the back of a trailer? Unable to get out with her broken arm in a cast.

  Back in the playgroup, the mothers had gone. The toys and puzzles had been packed up into one corner and large maps were spread across the child-size tables. Two men with the letters SES printed on their fluorescent vests were leaning over the maps and marking out sections. Four police officers stood talking next to a baby’s highchair.

  One of them patted Marty’s shoulder and gave him a tight-lipped smile. The sort of smile Marty used when giving parents bad news about their child’s medical condition. The officer indicated for Marty to sit on an old green chair that could have come from a hospital staffroom thirty years ago. A curly-haired policeman passed Marty a mug of tea.

  As Marty took a sip of tea, he overheard the word ‘paedophile’ and splashed hot liquid onto his shirt.

  ‘Are there known paedophiles living around here?’ he shouted while grabbing a wet cloth from the kitchen sink and pressing it against the burn on his midriff.

  ‘Sorry you heard that, Dr Parker,’ the curly-haired police officer answered calmly. ‘There are no indications that any such person is involved.’

  Christ, the police communicated in a language of their own. Marty groaned and assessed the burn. He heard Lexie talking behind him.

  ‘Why did you search up on the ridge, Marty?’ She was pushing her hands against his back. Not too hard but with enough force to make her point. ‘Bella couldn’t get up there. Her legs are too little. She can’t climb that hill.’

  Marty sighed. ‘I don’t know. I had an idea in my head that she’d be on top of the hill.’

  ‘Well, it was stupid. Bloody crazy.’ Lexie threw each word at him. ‘You should have been down here. Doing something useful.’

  Marty could sense the people in the room watching and listening. His wife didn’t normally speak to him like that. She was right, though—Bella probably couldn’t even get to the lower part of the ridge, let alone up the hill.

  ‘I had to check up there. It was one of her favourite places.’ He spoke firmly and loudly, turning and taking her hands and holding them with the wet cloth. ‘Just like you wanted to check in the lean-to at home.’

  Who was she to tell him that he wasn’t doing something useful in front of all these police and SES searchers? Lexie had left their daughter alone while she went to the shops. And she still hadn’t explained why.

  ACT POLICING ONLINE NEWS

  THURSDAY, 19 SEPTEMBER

  MISSING CHILD

  Seeking urgent public assistance to locate missing girl

  ACT Policing is seeking urgent public assistance to locate a missing three-year-old girl.

  Bella Parker was last seen in the Merrigang playgroup around 10.30 am. The playgroup is near the Merrigang shops, on the corner of Acacia Drive and Fig Street.

  Bella is described as 100 cm tall, with dark brown hair in plaits and brown eyes. Her left arm is in a cast. She was last seen wearing blue jeans, a white shirt and a pink coat.

  If you think you may have seen Bella or have any information as to her whereabouts, please contact police urgently.

  10

  CARUSO

  AS CARUSO AND SUZE PARKED IN FRONT OF TARA’S HOUSE, THEY SPOTTED a maroon hatchback in the driveway. Definitely maroon, not red. So far, the doorknocks hadn’t uncovered any information about the red hatchback. Two GDs had checked all the houses in the laneway which had security cameras—not one of the cameras was pointed at the road.

  Inside the tiny house, the detectives had to squeeze between a giant TV, brand-new leather couches and a tripod floor lamp. The three-year-old daughter—Zoe, he remembered—was sprawled in a mini beanbag couch, playing a game on an iPad.

  With her husband by her side, Tara was less flirty but she still touched Caruso on the arm and sought eye contact. She ignored Suze completely.

  ‘Any news?’ she asked breathlessly.

  Her eyes were red and her nose blotchy. She clutched a screwed-up tissue in one hand and wrapped her other hand around her husband’s forearm.

  ‘We’ve brought in the State Emergency Services to help with the search.’

  ‘Please take a seat.’ Tara p
ointed at the huge couches.

  Caruso perched on the edge of one and watched Josh Murphy settle himself on the other, position his feet on either side of the daughter in the beanbag, and smooth his hands up and down his chinos. He wore a red-checked shirt and his chin sported a blond goatee. Caruso hated that look; bum fluff they called it at the station.

  Suze explained the witness statement process and pressed the button on the audio recorder.

  ‘I believe you were at the playgroup this morning, Mr Murphy,’ Caruso said to Josh. ‘What were you doing there?’

  Tara began to speak but Caruso held up his hand.

  ‘I … uh … I came to …’ Josh looked towards his wife.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s kind of … um … embarrassing.’

  Waiting for Josh to continue, Caruso marvelled at the selfishness of people. A child was missing and this guy with bum fluff on his face was worried about being embarrassed. Or was he concerned about being a suspect? Josh had been sighted shortly before Bella disappeared.

  ‘I’m sorry that I forgot to tell you before.’ Tara held her hand over her heart. ‘It’s just that when Bella went missing, it slipped right out of my head that Josh had been there earlier.’

  ‘So, Mr Murphy?’ Caruso prodded him.

  ‘We’ve got some financial issues.’ Josh exhaled loudly. ‘We’re in debt and we owe money.’

  ‘Who to?’

  ‘Um, well, all the usual—banks and stuff—but also my cousin.’

  ‘Your cousin?’

  ‘Julia’s husband, Shane,’ Tara answered. She dabbed at her eyes with the tissue. ‘But can you keep this confidential? Please, Sergeant Caruso? It has nothing to do with Bella.’

  ‘The thing is …’ Josh went on. ‘The thing is I received some money unexpectedly from my grandfather—the one on the other side of the family.’

  ‘To tell you the truth, it has been pretty fucking stressful—’ Tara shook her head ‘—so Josh rushed over to tell me about the extra money.’

  ‘I should have just called. But I was so relieved. And I had to go to the bank to sign some papers, so I came to tell Tara in person. Please don’t mention it to Julia and Shane.’ Josh’s cheeks were aflame and he gazed down at the iPad in his daughter’s hands. ‘We need to pay the bank first.’