Six Minutes

by Petronella McGovern

  Far and wide, people knew that I had lost my daughter.

  Torch in hand, coat on my back, legs still shaking, I set out with Imogen, Lucas and his mates. Sergeant Caruso was still in the forward command post, as he called it. The command post—our playgroup—which had no playing children, but police officers and now volunteers to help: soldiers, cyclists, office workers and churchgoers with plates of sandwiches and cakes. Hundreds of people. Marty wanted to search with me but I couldn’t stand to be near him. I’d failed Bella and I’d failed him. Again.

  I prayed that Bella had curled up in a warm spot, protected from the cold. This time, we searched the route towards our home—trawling through the green strips between houses and roads. Fixing our torches on the little playgrounds hidden in the green spaces. When I had first arrived in Merrigang, I loved the secret footpaths connecting the crescents to the main roads. Now, these secret passageways provided hidey holes for a lost little girl.

  With my face half-concealed by a beanie, the male volunteers didn’t recognise me. I could hear their conversations around me in the dark.

  ‘Why do you reckon she wandered off?’

  ‘Maybe one of the other kids was mean to her.’

  Had that happened this morning? The twins were aggressive: they bit and hit and whacked and yelled. Imogen tried her best to control them but nothing seemed to work. Bella was resilient, though—she never seemed to be scared of Thomas and Matthew. Had she seen a bird or a butterfly and tried to follow it, pushing on the gate? Imagined a fairy floating in the sky? What would attract her attention? It was so unlike her that I just didn’t know.

  ‘Is there an ex-husband? Maybe he took her.’

  ‘Nah, apparently there’s an ex-wife with an older daughter in Sydney.’

  I could imagine Victoria doing some ludicrous things to annoy her father, but kidnapping Bella was beyond her capabilities. Underneath the bluster, Victoria was a sweet girl. I was sure she loved Marty really.

  ‘What about the father himself?’

  ‘He’s a doctor and he was at the hospital. Anyway, why would he take her? They’re married and they live together. It’s not like that case where the dad threw the daughter off the bridge.’

  ‘What fucking bastard would do that to his own kid?’

  Resting against a fence, I let the others move on ahead of me. Bella had wandered off, that was all. We’d find her, any moment now, hiding in a ditch or in someone’s back shed, desperate to come home.

  ‘I’ve got something here,’ one of the men called out.

  A spark whooshed inside me, blazing away the coldness. I pushed past three volunteers to glimpse inside their circle of torchlight.

  A single soft pink ballet slipper. Too big for Bella’s foot.

  In the past few hours, the streets and playgrounds and green spaces had merged into one dark place. My focus had been a ring of light on the ground, around a shed, up a driveway. When I shone the torch upwards into the trees, the branches loomed over me, clawing arms in the sky, an ogre hiding my child from me.

  My mobile pinged in my jeans pocket, sending an electric shock through my whole body. A shock of expectation. Stupid. The police wouldn’t text to say they’d found Bella. Digging out the phone, I stared at the glowing words. For a split second, I let myself believe it was Bella. Texting me to collect her. As if she were sixteen years old, like Victoria, asking to be picked up from a party.

  But, no, Phoebe was texting across the seas from her hospital bed in London. The anger rose swiftly. Why aren’t you here? I wanted to scream. And then the anger at myself—my sister had just had surgery, she should be able to recuperate in peace.

  The other searchers around me had continued up the street. I stood still in the dark, unsure of where I was. Is this how Bella feels? Lost and alone? During the search, I’d been concentrating so hard that I’d managed to banish those thoughts. She would be terrified of the dark, of the shapes like monsters with sharp fangs waiting to gobble her up. Tinker Bell, wherever you are, we’ll find you, darling. Any moment now. Cold and damp. Trembling with fear. Oh God. Drawing in a ragged breath, I turned to my left then right, then left again. Oh God, my chest is tightening. Can’t breathe. The dark was closing in on me, filling my vision. Find the light, stare at the streetlight. I could feel the mobile in my hand near my leg but I couldn’t understand how to tell my arm to bring it upwards. If I could call Phoebe, she’d calm me down. A strong pressure pushing down on my shoulder. The panic attack is moving into a heart attack. I’ll never see Bella again.

  ‘Breathe, Lexie.’ A deep commanding voice. ‘Take a deep breath in and then let it out slowly. You’re all right. I’m here.’

  The pressure on my shoulder was a man’s hand. I spun around to face him. Another shape in the dark. Big. Solid. Built like a fridge. Dark hair, dark eyes, staring down at me.

  Help! The scream stuck in my throat.

  A whimper, if it came out at all. None of the other searchers would hear. Was this the man who had taken Bella and now he had come for me?

  ‘Breathe.’

  Again, the word was a command to be obeyed. He gripped my other shoulder—huge hands skewering me in one position. His eyes on me, inspecting every inch of me. My body went limp and I greeted the blackness with relief.

  ‘Open your eyes, Lexie.’

  The same insistent voice. Had he moved me? His dark shape seemed big enough to carry a grown woman. Keep my eyes closed. Pretend I’m dead. I want to be dead without Bella.

  ‘Lexie, take a deep breath and open your eyes. Your mobile keeps ringing. You need to answer it.’

  Slowly, I did as he said. We were still on the same patch of grass, streetlights nearby. My phone was buzzing.

  ‘Great, you’re okay,’ the hulking shape smiled. ‘I think you were having a panic attack.’

  ‘My sister …’ I pointed at the phone.

  He answered it without hesitation.

  ‘This is Lexie’s phone. I’m Lucas Lawrence. How may I help?’

  Lucas. Imogen’s husband. The soldier. He wrapped his burly hand around my elbow and guided me through the gloom.

  On the screen, Phoebe was a fuzzy image of white: white sheets, white gown, white room, white face. Apart from her dark ponytail. When Bella was a baby, I had often accidentally called her Phoebe. My little sister, my daughter, so alike. I was the odd one out.

  ‘How’s the pain?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it.’ My long-suffering sister putting me first again. ‘Tell me what’s happening.’

  I could see the discomfort in the tightness around her mouth, the careful way in which she held the phone. Despite her reassurances that she’d come as quickly as possible, she wouldn’t be getting on a plane any time soon. The first ACL reconstruction surgery was supposed to be straightforward, but afterwards Phoebe hadn’t been able to bend her knee. The surgeon promised that this second operation, along with aggressive physical therapy, would improve her mobility. Phoebe needed her knee for her next ski trip in January. She’d planned to come to us for Christmas Day, we’d go together to see Dad after New Year, then she’d fly to Japan for a week. Of course, she’d torn the ligament while she was skiing. That trip had been a weekend in France.

  ‘There’s no news,’ I told her. ‘They haven’t found a single clue—apart from the wizard hat in the laneway. It makes no sense.’

  ‘They’ll find her,’ Phoebe said. ‘They will. And she can open the birthday present from me early. I’ve already sent it.’

  Next Friday, Bella would turn four years old. She’d been talking about her ‘birfday’ for months. Tonight, I should be at home, wrapping presents and preparing lolly bags while she slept unaware upstairs in her warm bed.

  The tears came streaming down my cheeks, yet again, and Phoebe blew me a kiss.

  ‘I wish I was there.’ Tears were in her eyes now too. ‘Have you told the police about …’

  ‘No,’ I sobbed. ‘It’s got nothing to d
o with Bella.’

  ‘Perhaps—’

  ‘No, Pheebs, please,’ I begged. ‘Marty and I have talked about it. We decided. They won’t look for Bella properly once they know.’

  WIN TV NEWS

  LATE-NIGHT UPDATE, THURSDAY, 19 SEPTEMBER, 10.35 PM

  A massive search is still underway for a three-year-old girl who disappeared from the Merrigang playgroup this morning. Bella Parker has been missing for almost twelve hours. Police are very concerned for her welfare due to her young age. They issued an AMBER Alert at 5 pm.

  The temperature tonight in Canberra will drop to six degrees. Police have urged local residents to check their yards, sheds, cubbyhouses and garages in case Bella has sought shelter overnight.

  Earlier this evening, Superintendent John Milson spoke to the media.

  ‘Bella Parker was playing happily with friends this morning at the playgroup and no-one saw her leave the playground. We are undertaking a wide search involving foot patrols, the dog squad and SES volunteers. Our officers are investigating every possibility and making further inquiries. We are seeking the public’s help to find Bella. Please contact us with any information.’

  Above the village of Merrigang, a police helicopter has scoured the area from the sky. This evening, local residents joined in to assist with the search.

  14

  MARTY

  MARTY FOLLOWED IMOGEN’S HUSBAND INTO THE PLAYGROUP ROOM, closing the door behind him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the lights; outside it was still so dark. A few hours until dawn. Imogen’s husband—Lucas, that was his name. He’d seen Imogen at some point in the night and Tara had given him a suffocating hug yesterday afternoon but he hadn’t met the other two mums. Maybe, when they’d found Bella, this experience would bond the five mothers for life. Lexie would have a group of friends who would stand by her no matter what. Maybe the kids would stay friends forever, too, and Bella would end up travelling to Europe with the twins or sharing a flat with one of the girls.

  In the darkness, he’d focused on thoughts like these to distract himself and keep the real fear at bay.

  They’d been searching all night and not found a single trace of her. Marty ground his fists into his eye sockets. He couldn’t return home to Lexie, not without Bella; Imogen had insisted on taking his wife back to the house around 2 am. Maybe he should just keep going till sunrise. He’d have a coffee then go out there again. Walking towards the kitchenette, he heard two policemen speaking behind him.

  ‘The crazies have started ringing in.’

  Marty turned to face them. ‘Who are the crazies?’ he demanded.

  The bloke recognised him immediately. He stood straighter.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Parker—uh, Dr Parker. I didn’t realise you were back.’

  ‘Who are the crazies?’ Marty repeated.

  ‘Ah, the people ringing in are … um … psychics.’

  ‘What are they saying?’

  ‘Um, all sorts of things, sir. Normally it’s like a vision they’ve had. Crazy stuff.’ The officer bit down on his lip and then gritted his teeth. ‘We follow up on them all, just in case.’

  Marty understood that the bloke was trying to protect him. The crazies must say terrible things—that Bella is at the bottom of a dam; she has been abducted in a silver van; she’s lying in a shallow grave. Marty shuddered. No, he couldn’t keep the fear at bay; he couldn’t search any more. He had to get away from here, home to Lexie.

  ‘Dr Parker, the superintendent is coming in at seven and he’ll assess the situation and discuss the next search area.’ A female officer was talking at him now. Marty found it hard to follow her words.

  ‘I need to go home.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll drop you back. You shouldn’t drive.’

  The forty-something policewoman picked up her car keys and began shepherding him out of the room. Marty looked around for Lucas. He spotted the other man drinking coffee in the kitchenette, speaking with the search coordinator. Marty waved in that direction and then around the room.

  ‘Thank you, everyone, for looking for Bella.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Tell everyone, please. From us. Thank you.’

  Walking towards the police car, Marty glanced down at his mobile. A message from Victoria: Dad, I can’t sleep. Any news? Can I come down?

  The last time—the only time—Victoria had been to visit was a disaster. He should have known from the moment she stepped off the Murrays bus. Victoria wasn’t looking for him in the crowd but turning back to her friend, laughing. Her curly blonde hair bounced as she swung her head around. Short shorts. Long legs. Midriff bare, with a ring glistening in her belly button. Why the hell does Angela let her dress like this? She’d better not have a tattoo. Marty tried to ignore the adult men in the waiting crowd ogling his teenage girl. Keep it happy for the first hour, at least. She’ll be freezing in the Canberra winter. Where does she think she is? Bali? I hope she brought some warmer clothes.

  In the car, Victoria and her friend Kimmy had spent the first five minutes complaining about the bus, the cold weather and the Canberra landscape.

  ‘So, Daddy-o, where’s your hospital? Is it in the centre of town? Oh, that’s right, there is no centre in Canberra! What did you move down here for? Such a wasteland.’

  Christ, it was going to be a bloody painful weekend.

  As they pulled into the driveway, young, uncomplicated Bella stood waiting at the front door, holding a purple balloon and a drawing. A complete contrast to the surly teenager.

  ‘My fairy sister,’ Bella yelled as she rushed to give her gifts to Victoria.

  He couldn’t remember why Bella had given Victoria that title. Perhaps Lexie had been reading ‘Cinderella’ with her one day and explained that Victoria wasn’t an evil stepsister but a fairy half-sister. These days, Marty wasn’t so sure.

  ‘Wow, Bells, you’re all grown up. How’s it hangin’, little sis?’ Victoria hugged Bella. ‘This is my friend Kimmy. Come and show us around your beautiful big house.’

  Victoria walked off, leaving Marty to get the luggage out of the car. But she couldn’t resist another dig.

  ‘Big house, Daddy-o. Bigger than Mum and I ever lived in. Doing well for yourself then. Maybe I should move in?’

  He yanked the teenagers’ wheelie bags out of the car boot. If Victoria could bear to live in this ‘wasteland’, as she called it, she could live in a much nicer house than in Sydney. He dumped their bags at the bottom of the stairs; the teenagers could carry their precious cargo upstairs themselves.

  Lexie had cups of tea and lemon cake ready for them in the family room. Marty wanted a Scotch.

  ‘I’ve put you both in the bedroom upstairs,’ Lexie told the teenagers. ‘Bella wanted to have a sleepover in your room but I’ve told her that won’t work. She might snuggle into your bed early in the morning though.’

  ‘Sweet.’ Victoria laughed. ‘I might not wake up though, Bells.’

  Thank God she was pleasant to her little sister. At least there was a bond between them. Victoria was also polite to Lexie—she didn’t hurl sarcastic comments at her stepmother. She saved those for him.

  ‘You can watch TV down here,’ Lexie continued, ‘but don’t go into the spare room downstairs. My projects are all over the place.’

  Projects? Lexie didn’t have any projects. Was she just trying to keep the teenagers contained?

  Victoria took a sip of her tea and then looked up at Marty.

  ‘Are those hate pages still online?’

  On the couch beside him, Marty felt Lexie’s body tense. They hadn’t talked about them for a long time, not since they’d moved to Canberra.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he answered quickly. ‘We don’t look. Now, what do you want to do this weekend?’

  Pages and pages had been written about them on the web. Marty’s solicitor had managed to get a few removed after legal letters citing defamation. One website had been particularly vicious but it had no traceable owner. For the first six months, they
’d tried to track it down, then they’d given up, made a decision to ignore it. Hoped that friends, colleagues and patients didn’t come across it online. The police said it could be anyone—one of Nurse Natalie’s acolytes, a random stranger in America who took a perverted interest in the case, a former patient with a grudge, an annoyed colleague even.

  It was one of the reasons they’d changed their surname.

  He didn’t want to talk about this in front of Bella. Nor Lexie. At one stage, his wife had been obsessed, checking the websites every day, trying to understand who would write such things. And the hateful words clung to her. Lexie would repeat them to him at night, desperate to make sense of it.

  Victoria hadn’t responded to his question about the weekend and Marty tried to get his brain into gear, to move the conversation on, but Bella interrupted his thoughts.

  ‘What’s hate page?’ Bella was poking at the lemon cake on her plate. ‘You can’t hate a page.’

  ‘No, Bells, you’re right.’ Victoria sighed, suddenly world weary.

  Marty felt Lexie grip his hand.

  ‘Victoria,’ she said, ‘you’re not being targeted online, are you?’

  ‘Me?’ Victoria’s sculpted eyebrows lifted in surprise. ‘No, no. Just wondering if the police ever worked out who it was.’

  He couldn’t really believe she was sitting in his house. After all the times she’d pulled out, sometimes just hours before. Always with a good excuse. ‘I’ve just been invited to a sixteenth birthday party.’ ‘I haven’t finished my history assignment.’ ‘My netball team is short on players this weekend.’ Marty never checked with his ex-wife to see if Victoria was telling the truth. He’d tried his hardest over the past four years and he wasn’t going to chase her now, not if she didn’t want to spend time with him.

  And finally here she was, dragging along a friend as a bodyguard and a hard-as-nails attitude. Whatever mistakes he’d made with Victoria, he sure as hell wouldn’t repeat them with Bella.

  In the police car, Marty leant against the headrest and closed his eyes. Lexie would be expecting news.