Six Minutes

by Petronella McGovern

  She massaged my shoulders as I hunched over on the kitchen stool, desperate for a hug from my mum. Seven years ago, Mum had willed herself to stay alive for our wedding, sitting in the front row, a padded bra over her scarred chest and a smile as bright as the sun streaming through the stained-glass windows. A month later, she was gone.

  Phoebe had been working in London for the past ten years but she came home when we needed her. My vivacious little sister had the right personality for the world of advertising. She could charm clients, ramp up energy levels on a commercial shoot and get everyone to agree on a campaign. When we were younger, I’d been the outgoing one. At some point, Phoebe had stepped out of my shadow and streaked past me.

  The last time I’d spoken to her—before Bella had gone missing—we’d argued. A rare argument but always about the same thing. Men. Phoebe was turning thirty-two—when was she going to get serious about her life? She thought she had all the time in the world to dally: one-night stands, friends with benefits. But she needed to learn from my example. I shouldn’t have put my career first, shouldn’t have left it so late to get pregnant.

  Over Skype, I’d glimpsed a gold bracelet on her wrist. A present from a new man?

  ‘Who is he?’ I’d asked.

  ‘You won’t want to know about this one,’ she said. ‘He’s married. But he’s leaving his wife.’

  I didn’t bother to hide my disapproval. ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘What happened to supporting the sisterhood?’

  ‘I thought he was single when we met. It’s been a bloody nightmare.’

  ‘So dump him. Move on. This goes against everything you believe, Pheebs.’

  ‘But I really, really like him. And he’s a sex god in bed.’

  ‘Seriously, Phoebe? He lied to you—that’s a great start to a relationship.’

  ‘If you want to start talking about great relationships,’ she snapped back, ‘then we can move on to you and Marty. Are you actually speaking to each other? Does he still think he knows what’s best for you without ever asking?’

  At the beginning, Phoebe had liked Marty, although she’d always thought he was too old for me. But she saw his kindness, his compassion, his care for his tiny patients—and, above all, his love for me, how happy he made me. In those days, with Marty by my side, I felt I could do anything, go anywhere, follow my dreams to the end of the earth. He supported me, he encouraged me, he believed in me. I’d never had a boyfriend like that before. With other boyfriends, we’d been two people travelling along parallel tracks—going in the same direction, but not together. The lecturer I’d dated was so focused on his own ambition that he had no space for mine. The author needed my constant reassurance about his work and expected me to organise my life around his writing hours. But Marty was different. It wasn’t only that he was older and further along in his career; he wanted me to be fulfilled, reach my goals, and I wanted the same for him.

  In those days, we were always talking. Imagining where we’d live, the children we’d have, the lives we’d lead. A bright, happy future together. We both wanted a simple life for our children. A cosy house, not too fancy—a place where kids could make a mess. Our home would be filled with friends and family: dinner parties, kids’ birthday parties for the whole class, Christmas gatherings—any excuse to bring people together.

  I’d slumped into the couch in the family room, ignoring Phoebe on the screen, absorbing the emptiness of all the rooms in this vast new house. A child asleep upstairs. A husband at work. Rooms that remained spotless because no-one entered them.

  Phoebe broke the silence. ‘I’m sorry, Lex, I didn’t mean to be a bitch. You know I only want the best for you.’

  I sighed. ‘I know. And I only want the best for you too. You deserve a gorgeous man all to yourself.’

  How could my gung-ho feminist sister end up being the other woman? She should have a man who loved her—and her alone—for her feistiness, her fun and her wit.

  ‘There’s one other thing that will make you like him even less,’ she confessed. ‘I probably shouldn’t even tell you.’

  ‘He’s got kids, hasn’t he?’ I guessed. Poor things.

  She smiled sadly. ‘I think I’m in love.’

  Her lovesick face reminded me of Marty on our wedding day. The same day I’d promised Mum that I would always look after my little sister.

  ‘I worry for you, Pheebs. Just don’t leave it too late, if you want what I’ve got.’

  As soon as the words had come out, I wished I could suck them back inside. Want what I had? What I had was a marriage stuck together with bandaids of guilt and grief and red wine.

  Now I hoped that this man was putting my sister first for once: caring for Phoebe while she was in hospital and helping her cope with her fears about her missing niece.

  Imogen asked if there was anything she could do—some housework, make some meals?

  ‘When Mel was here yesterday, she cooked up a storm.’ I swept my hand towards the fridge. ‘Just look in there—enough to feed us for weeks.’

  If we ever felt like eating.

  ‘That was nice of her,’ Imogen said. ‘And you know it will all be healthy!’

  Imogen was trying to make me smile, bringing up the banter from playgroup. Mel—the superfood cook, never a preservative in sight. My cooking sat somewhere between Mel’s high standards and Tara’s quick packet options. But there were some things that I would never, ever feed to Bella—soft drink, chips, Cheezels and Twisties, hot dogs, sugary breakfast cereals. And she’d never been to McDonald’s or KFC. I was trying my hardest to be a good mum.

  ‘Who’s looking after the twins?’ I realised that Imogen hadn’t mentioned them all morning.

  ‘One of the grandmothers from church offered to help out. She came over early this morning before I was even dressed.’ Imogen filled the kettle again. ‘I’m not sure how she’ll manage. You know what the twins are like!’

  Imogen busied herself with the cups and the teabags. She poured me another tea without asking if I wanted one.

  ‘I really appreciate your support,’ I said, resting my hand on hers. ‘Yours, Mel’s, Tara’s.’

  So many people were helping out in some way: Lucas, Tara’s husband, that grandmother from church, some local teachers, the Playgroup Society and playgroup mums from different days.

  But not Julia. I hadn’t seen her this morning at playgroup. And unlike the others, her husband hadn’t searched last night. Julia was our organiser, the one in charge, the one who should be held responsible. Where was she?

  21

  BRENDAN

  BRENDAN LEFT THE STAFFROOM AT FOUR O’CLOCK, TAKING HOME HIS folder to prepare for the parent–teacher meetings next week. Normally, the streets were pretty empty, but today heaps of cars were parked near the laneway behind the playgroup and even more along the main road. Brendan turned his WRX into the next lane on the left and reached for the remote control to his garage. Inside, he dumped his folder in the study, twisted open a Corona and flicked the TV on to sport. Brendan, Jeff and a few others usually had drinks at the club in Weston on Friday afternoons, but not today. He’d overheard some teachers say they were going to the playgroup to offer their help with the search again. Should he be seen up there too? Or would she be there?

  When the doorbell chimed, Brendan frowned. Claire hadn’t texted to say she was coming over. Was Jeff popping in for a beer? He pulled shut the door to his study and went to greet his visitor.

  On the front step stood two uniformed policemen wearing their blue caps, one holding a notebook.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, sir. We’ve been doorknocking every house in the area and you weren’t home yesterday. I’m sure you’ve heard about the missing girl.’

  ‘Yeah, terrible.’ Brendan glanced at the second copper then did a double take. ‘Todd, mate, how are you? You weren’t at training last night.’

  ‘No, sorry, Brenno. All hands on deck here.’

  ‘Come in, lads, take a load off for a moment.
Guess I can’t offer you a beer?’

  ‘We wish, mate,’ Todd answered. ‘But I could do with a Coke, if you’ve got one?’

  Todd introduced his partner, Gareth, and the two of them sprawled on Brendan’s couch, their eyes instantly fixed on the Liverpool–Chelsea replay on the screen.

  ‘Todd, you are playing tomorrow, aren’t you?’ Brendan asked, as he handed him the can of Coke. ‘We need you on the wing.’

  ‘Hope so, mate. Just have to see.’

  Gareth opened his notepad again and asked if Brendan had seen the missing girl or any suspicious vehicles in the area between ten and eleven o’clock yesterday morning.

  ‘Can’t help, mate, I wasn’t here. I’m a teacher at the school.’

  ‘Did you come home at all during the day?’

  ‘Nah. What does everyone reckon has happened to her?’

  Brendan had answered without thinking. Normally he didn’t leave the school grounds during the day. Nipping home to grab his lunch at exactly the same time as the girl went missing sounded suspicious. Better to say nothing.

  ‘No-one knows,’ Todd answered.

  ‘D’ya reckon she wandered off, or was she abducted?’

  ‘No idea. Dogs couldn’t find anything. No witnesses. Nothing.’ Todd shook his head and stood up. ‘Thanks for the drink, mate. We’d better push on.’

  Brendan began to walk Todd to the door. The other copper didn’t follow them. He placed his Coke can on a side table and was staring down at a pile of glossy photos.

  ‘Excuse me, Brendan. What are these?’

  The tone in Gareth’s voice had changed and Brendan came back to him, puzzled. He stared down at the pile. Oh fuck. Why hadn’t he put them away?

  ‘I’m trying to set up a photography business on the side to supplement my crappy teacher’s salary,’ Brendan explained quickly. ‘Mate, never photograph kids or animals—nightmare! They had this bonkers idea about the toddlers bringing along their favourite pet.’

  ‘What about this photo?’ Gareth asked, holding up a shot of a dark-haired girl in a purple spotty dress. ‘When did you take it?’

  ‘Months ago.’ Brendan tried to keep his voice light. ‘Up on the ridge. The mother who organised it had to choose a place they could bring their animals. I kept a few good shots for my portfolio.’

  Brendan glanced down at the pic. A great shot. It captured the girl standing on a rock, her arms flung out wide, caught mid-movement as she spun around, the bushes blurred behind her.

  ‘Did you know that this is the missing girl?’ Gareth asked. ‘This picture was on the front page of the Canberra Times this morning.’

  Brendan could feel sweat prickling at the back of his neck. The last thing he needed was to be investigated by the cops.

  ‘Really? My photo on the front page? Wow. Really? No, I didn’t see it. I mean, I saw the news on TV last night but not my picture …’

  He had to stop babbling. Get a grip.

  Gareth pulled a plastic evidence bag from his pocket and placed the photo carefully inside.

  ‘Mate, we’ll have to report this. The sergeant will probably want to talk to you.’

  Fuck, were the police allowed to search his house? Could he refuse to let them in? Should he call a lawyer?

  THE CANBERRA TIMES ONLINE EDITION

  FRIDAY, 20 SEPTEMBER, 3.45 PM

  Desperate search for missing girl continues into second day

  A desperate search for missing three-year-old Bella Parker has continued throughout today. Bella’s parents met with the media this morning and gave out new photos of their daughter. They were too distraught to read their prepared statements. The girl’s father is a paediatrician at Canberra Hospital. His work has helped save the lives of countless children.

  Playgroup mum: bring Bella home

  Mrs Tara Murphy has a daughter in the same Merrigang playgroup as Bella.

  ‘We’re horrified by the disappearance,’ Mrs Murphy said. ‘Playgroup is a wonderful experience for mums and kids to get together. Merrigang is such a safe village. We’ve never seen anything like this before.’

  Mrs Murphy described the playgroup as a ‘supportive environment’ where the children were all friends.

  ‘My daughter misses her friend Bella and just wants her to come home,’ Mrs Murphy said. ‘It’s Bella’s fourth birthday next week and she has been planning a party. We need to bring her home for her birthday.’

  The Playgroup Society said the Merrigang facility complies with all Australian safety standards. It is not yet known how Bella made her way out of the secure area.

  Community rallies to help

  Last night, local volunteers joined the search. Lucas Lawrence was one of the many who helped with the search effort.

  ‘Everyone around Merrigang is doing whatever they can to help,’ Mr Lawrence said. ‘Bella is a sweet girl who plays with my twin boys at the playgroup. On behalf of Bella’s parents, I want to thank the community and, of course, the police and SES searchers for their hard work.’

  Locals asked to check backyards

  Superintendent John Milson has asked locals to check their backyards, sheds and anywhere a small child could hide.

  Eighty-year-old Irene Booth, who lives on the same street as the playgroup, has been on her hands and knees in her garden.

  ‘It’s hard for me to get down low but I’ve been kneeling on a towel and peering underneath my Pittosporum hedge at the back,’ Mrs Booth said. ‘It’s a dreadful situation. Everyone wants to find the poor little thing.’

  Local businesses and houses with security cameras near the Merrigang shops have been urged to check their footage for any sign of Bella or hand it in to the police.

  Fears for a cold night

  Tonight’s forecast is a low of two degrees. Professor Heather Clarke from the Australian National University said a child could survive in Canberra’s overnight temperatures, depending on their clothing and where they sought shelter.

  ‘Children survive hypothermia particularly well,’ Professor Clarke said. ‘There have been cases in America and Canada where a child has been lost in the snow, in minus 20 degrees Celsius, and they have survived.’

  Search efforts continue

  Superintendent Milson said that the search efforts will continue throughout the afternoon and into the night.

  ‘We have a fresh SES team coming in from Queanbeyan. We will be assisted again by a helicopter with infrared equipment.

  In fact, the dark makes it easier for the infrared technology to detect body heat.’

  Of the 20,000 children who go missing in Australia each year, 99.5 per cent are found safely. Research indicates that, in the case of children under 10 years old, boys tend to be found outside and girls inside.

  22

  CARUSO

  INSIDE WODEN POLICE STATION, CARUSO STOOD STARING AT THE SCREEN with his team in a semicircle around him. He paused the CCTV recording at the precise moment when the girl scrambled into a white car. Surveillance cameras had been crucial in making the first arrest in the Wilson homicide but this CCTV footage was questionable. Too far away, too blurry.

  ‘I just don’t know.’ Caruso ran his fingers through his black hair, blinked, then turned to the rest of the team: Suze, Hassan, Smithy and Gwen.

  ‘It’s got to be her,’ said Gwen. She pointed at the screen. ‘Look, she’s the same height as Bella, the same colour clothing. And that’s definitely the mother holding the girl’s hand. She walks the same way as Mrs Parker.’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’ Caruso studied the image again. ‘All those yummy mummies look similar. And their kids are all wearing whatever’s in the latest Target catalogue.’

  The CCTV footage had come from Civic, the main shopping area in the city. Time-stamped 3.43 pm the previous day—five hours after Bella had been reported missing. A little girl and her mother had walked out of the front entrance of the shopping centre to a waiting car, which sped away once they were safely inside. The camera was up high
, fixed above the automatic doors, and gave a top view and a back view of shoppers. In terms of timing, it could easily have been Mrs Parker—she was in and out of the playgroup yesterday, off conducting her own search with her husband. Police had interviewed her earlier, around 11 am and then again later, around two in the afternoon. From the angle of the CCTV camera, they couldn’t see the figure in the car. The security team at the shopping centre had gone through their other cameras but the girl didn’t appear anywhere else.

  ‘Do the Parkers have another car that we don’t know about?’ Suze asked. ‘A white one that would match this?’

  ‘Not unless it’s registered under a different name.’

  ‘I’ll check the rego of the ex-wife. There might have been some swapping of cars.’

  Caruso liked working with Suze; they both had a methodical approach but they questioned each other and argued sometimes, which brought different angles to an investigation. She’d been invaluable in the Wilson case, persevering to find a link between two sets of investments and two business partners, where a less-determined cop would have given up. It had been boring and time-consuming, but ultimately her work had paid off. Sometimes, he’d had to remind her to go home, see the kids, attend the school prize-giving day and the netball grand final. Suze had booked time off in the next school holidays to take her kids bushwalking in the Blue Mountains. Was that next week or the week after?

  Caruso rubbed his eyes, which were sore from focusing on the screen for so long. And the lack of sleep last night. Possibly it was the Parkers and their daughter pictured in the footage, but why? When parents were involved in a disappearance, it was usually over a custody battle or because they’d hurt their own child, not to take them shopping.

  ‘Let’s canvass some of the shops nearby.’ Caruso spoke to the detective opposite him. ‘Gwen, can you show pics to the shop assistants? See if anyone recognises Mrs Parker or Bella. And see if we can get footage from the nearby ATMs. Check if Mrs Parker has been taking money out of her account.’