Wreck

by Fleur Ferris

  ‘Thank you,’ I say.

  ‘Where did you go to school?’ Sergeant Wheldon asks.

  ‘Tolsea High. I’ll be studying journalism this year. My summer job was at the Coastal Daily with Simon and Darryl, the two who were murdered. They were my friends. And someone killed them because I found a note.’

  Sergeant Wheldon lets me sob.

  ‘Okay. I’m going to leave you for a moment while I make some enquiries. Constable Belling will be right outside the door. If you need anything just knock and he will be here, okay?’

  I nod.

  When he goes, I blow my nose and take a sip of coffee. It’s so good I close my eyes and breathe it in as I drink. I can feel my headache ease as the caffeine pumps into my brain. When I stop crying, I drink some water and then wait for Sergeant Wheldon to come back. It’s hard to keep sitting upright and I wonder if they would mind if I lie down on the floor. Instead, I rest my head on the table, and just as I close my eyes the door opens.

  Sergeant Wheldon enters and sits down. I straighten up again.

  ‘I’ve just spoken to the investigating officers. They asked for you to be transferred to their office, but I suggested that you may feel more comfortable here? Are you happy with that?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. That is very kind of you.’

  ‘I can’t do the official interview but the investigating officers are on their way. Before talking to the police, you will be offered the chance to speak with a lawyer. Would you like to do that now?’

  ‘Do I need to?’ Why do I need one? Panic rises inside me.

  ‘I would suggest you do. There are serious allegations involved in this case.’

  Does this mean he doesn’t believe me?

  ‘Okay,’ I whisper.

  ‘Do you have anyone in mind?’

  I shake my head, feeling too sick to speak. Zel said to call Smidge if I needed help, that his family were high up in the legal system. Does that mean they are lawyers? Should I call Smidge?

  Sergeant Wheldon stands up. ‘Constable Belling, could you bring in a phone book?’

  Constable Belling dashes off and comes back with a phone book. Sergeant Wheldon directs me to a page of solicitors. There are so many. I stare blankly at the page.

  ‘Are there any you can recommend?’ I stammer.

  ‘I can’t be seen to give you advice, Tamara. It needs to be your choice.’

  Things are happening too fast. Who can I trust? I scan the page. ‘Legal Aid, then? I’ll call Legal Aid. I’ve heard of them.’

  ‘Okay, come with me.’

  Sergeant Wheldon leads me out and we walk to the far end of the large open room. Constable Belling follows and perches on a table, ready to be of service to Sergeant Wheldon. He’s so keen. He must be about my age, but he looks younger.

  He looks at me. ‘You’re my first fugitive,’ he says with a grin.

  ‘Oh,’ I laugh. ‘I wish I was a little more dangerous for you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he agrees.

  ‘I like how you’ve claimed my capture.’

  He snorts with laughter. ‘Hey, my mum doesn’t have to know you walked into the police station.’

  Sergeant Wheldon dials the number and hands me the phone.

  ‘Good afternoon, Legal Aid,’ the receptionist answers.

  ‘Hi.’ My mind goes blank. ‘Umm, I would like to speak with a lawyer. My name is Tamara Bennett and I’m about to be questioned at a police station and need some advice.’

  ‘One moment, please.’

  I’m being transferred.

  ‘Hello, Kate Winter.’

  After repeating my spiel in more detail, Kate says, ‘I can help you with that. You said you’re at Clarence Hills?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘The investigating officers are coming here.’

  Finally, Kate takes down all the same information that Sergeant Wheldon asked for and says she is on her way.

  I hang up the phone. I’m shown back to Interview Room One, take a seat and have another sip of water.

  A few moments later, Sergeant Wheldon comes in. ‘Once the homicide squad detectives arrive, I may not get a chance to speak with you again.’ He takes a card out of his pocket and pushes it across the table. ‘If you ever need anything, here’s my number. Don’t hesitate to call me. You’re only a year older than my daughter and, well, I would like to think that someone would look out for her if she found herself mixed up in some kind of trouble. I don’t know your family situation, or what kind of support you have, but keep me in mind if you ever need help, okay?’

  ‘Thank you.’ I take his card and put it in my back pocket.

  ‘I’ll let you know when your solicitor arrives.’ Sergeant Wheldon leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

  My eyes feel so heavy I place my head back down on the table and close them. I must have fallen asleep because it seems like only seconds before the door reopens and Sergeant Wheldon is back with a blonde woman dressed in a black business suit.

  ‘Tamara, this is Kate Winter from Legal Aid.’

  My eyes sting as I blink, trying to focus on Kate. She smiles at me and reaches out to shake my hand. I stand up to greet her.

  ‘No, stay sitting, it’s fine. It looks like you need some rest.’

  Kate sits down and places her phone on the desk beside her. ‘I’m going to record our conversation, is that okay?’

  ‘Sure,’ I say.

  She places her phone on the desk. ‘Now. Tell me everything that happened.’

  I tell her from the start, leaving nothing out. She sits quietly, listening, sometimes jotting things down.

  ‘So, camera footage will definitely place you at the airport around ten last night?’

  ‘Yes. I was driving my parents’ car.’ I tell her the make, colour and registration number.

  ‘And then when you arrived home, someone was in your house?’

  Kate verifies a few more details in a way I know must be cementing certain evidence in her mind. She sits back in her seat and taps the desk with her polished fingernails. ‘I believe you,’ she says. ‘You are as much a victim in all of this as your colleagues.’

  I knew I’d be believed, but the relief to hear her say it is overwhelming. Kate’s response reiterates to me that the truth is always the best option. Truth always wins.

  Kate then briefs me on how to answer questions when in an official police interview. I can either say ‘no comment’ to every question, or I can answer as honestly as possible.

  ‘I want to help them,’ I say. ‘I want to tell them everything that happened. I want them to know Zel is innocent, that we are both innocent.’

  ‘Okay. Well, Tamara, you look like you could really use some sleep, but given there are serious allegations involved and a suspect who is thought to be armed and dangerous still at large, I cannot recommend delaying police questioning.’

  ‘That’s all right. I’d much rather get it all out of the way so I can go home. I’d like to leave a message for my parents, though – they’ll be out of their minds if they can’t get hold of me and they hear about Simon and Darryl.’

  ‘I will arrange for your phone call now.’

  ‘Also, how will I get home? I have no money, no phone …’

  ‘Is there someone here in Melbourne we can call? Someone who will come and get you?’

  I think for a moment. ‘My friend, Relle. She’s probably already looking for me. I was supposed to turn up at student res today. We have accommodation in the same place.’

  Kate jots down Relle’s details. I don’t know Relle’s phone number by heart, but Kate assures me she will find her and get in contact. ‘She’s on Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat and Twitter as @rellesbeach,’ I say.

  Kate smiles. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll ask Sergeant Wheldon to find her while you’re being interviewed. That is, if you’d like me to be present during your interview?’

  ‘Yes, I would, thank you,’ I say as she stands and goes to the door. When Kate returns, she is acc
ompanied by Sergeant Wheldon and two officers I’ve never seen before.

  ‘This is Senior Detective Mitchell and Senior Detective Lim,’ says Sergeant Wheldon.

  We exchange greetings and the officers sit down. Kate tells Sergeant Wheldon that I need to get a message to my parents as soon as the interview is over and also hands over Relle’s details. Sergeant Wheldon agrees to track down Relle and request that she attend the station. He then leaves the room and closes the door. Senior Detective Lim reads me my rights and tells me the interview is going to be video-recorded. It’s all so formal I start to wonder if they think I’m guilty and the panicky sick feeling in my stomach returns. I turn to Kate and she gives me a reassuring nod.

  The interview begins and for the third time today I tell my story, starting from when I got home last night. The detectives offer me water and suggest suspending the interview when I find myself crying about Simon and Darryl again. Still, their language remains so official it scares me. I can’t tell if they believe me and suddenly I feel hot and sweaty. I take another sip of water.

  They let me finish my story, writing notes as I talk. Every now and then Senior Detective Lim interrupts me to clarify something.

  Finally, Senior Detective Lim says, ‘I just want to confirm who Zel is.’

  ‘Zel is William Chisel.’

  ‘And how do you know this?’

  ‘I recognised him as a Chisel from a couple of photos I saw online, but I didn’t know if he was William or Knox because they were much younger in the pictures than they are now. Then, when I asked him later he told me he was William.’

  ‘And you saw Zel at your house?’

  ‘Yes. Well, no. I didn’t see his face at the house because he put a doona over my head. I saw his face for the first time in the office, but I didn’t really look closely at him then either.’

  ‘Okay, going back to your house. You saw another person there?’

  ‘No. I didn’t see him. He came from behind me and held a gun to my head. I didn’t see the gun, but I felt it. When I got away and locked myself in the bathroom I could hear that there were two people.’

  ‘What did you hear?’

  ‘Fighting.’

  ‘Verbal?’

  ‘No. Physical. Them hitting into the walls, groaning, punching.’

  ‘Did you hear them speak to each other?’

  ‘No. But Zel spoke to me later.’

  ‘Is it possible that Zel was the person who held a gun to your head?’

  ‘No. It was a different guy.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because Zel’s voice was different to the first guy who asked me where the note was.’

  They keep asking the same question in different ways and I feel impatience move into my tone. Just when I think it’s never going to stop, Senior Detective Lim changes his focus towards Zel’s gun, but all I can say about it is that it was a handgun and it was black.

  ‘Ms Bennett, do you believe everything that William Chisel told you?’

  ‘Yes. I do believe what William told me. I trust him because he rescued me twice. I would be dead if it weren’t for him.’

  When the interview stops, the door opens and cool air rushes in. I relax my shoulders, and the two detectives start speaking a little more conversationally.

  Constable Belling appears at the door with his giant smile. ‘Can I get anyone a coffee, tea or water?’ His eyes dart around with excitement as he takes it all in. Clearly this is the biggest thing that’s happened in Clarence Hills since he graduated.

  We all order coffee and Constable Belling disappears.

  The detectives leave the room for a moment and I can hear them speaking in hushed voices but can’t make out any words. Constable Belling comes back before they do and Sergeant Wheldon pokes his head around the door behind him.

  ‘Everything okay in here?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ I smile.

  Kate asks about Relle and I’m so pleased to hear she is on her way.

  The senior detectives come back into the room and sit down.

  ‘Tamara, thank you for coming straight into the police station to help us with our enquiries,’ says Senior Detective Mitchell. ‘We really appreciate your time and cooperation. As part of the investigation in Tolsea, police attended your house and found it in a ransacked state. Given you were missing, police entered and treated it as a crime scene and collected all of the evidence they need. It is now okay for you to enter and clean up. If you find anything is missing you can report this at your local branch.’

  I nod, but I can see he’s not finished.

  ‘The next thing might come as a shock, and I’m afraid there’s no way to break this to you lightly.’ His tone and body language scare me so much I feel the colour drain from my face. I look to Kate for reassurance, but she indicates that she doesn’t know what’s coming either. We wait for him to continue. ‘William’s brother, Knox, has already been ruled out as a suspect in this investigation. Knox came to us with concerns about his brother some time ago. He fears his brother’s mental state has declined and he is worried William has become … increasingly unstable, unsafe to those around him.’

  The detective pauses again, gauging my reaction.

  ‘Knox is so concerned that he has hired a team of private investigators to work around the clock to find William to bring him in safely. And although they are yet to disclose how they knew of your location, they intended on bringing you both in immediately and their intentions were honourable. Knox’s private investigation team has been assisting us with our investigations.’

  I glance at Kate and then back to the detective.

  ‘Tamara, Knox’s story checks out. We have evidence that puts William in all four locations of these alleged notes at the time the people who found them disappeared or died. We have formed a task force to investigate and William is our main suspect. So far he has managed to evade us. Your case is different to the others. We don’t know why your life was spared, or what it means, which is why we thought you may have been an accomplice. We fear for William’s safety, for the safety of the public, and Tamara, we fear for your safety. It’s urgent for us to find William and bring him in. Do you know his whereabouts?’

  I absorb this news in slow motion.

  ‘Tamara, are you all right?’

  I look at the detective. ‘Yes,’ I say. But deep inside I don’t think I am.

  ‘Did William say where he was going?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Tamara, Knox’s main concern is for William and for public safety. William needs help. Knox has made himself available to assist us in our investigation until his brother is apprehended. He wants to be here when William is brought in to make sure he receives the help he needs. Unfortunately, it appears that won’t be happening today.’

  ‘I don’t know where he is,’ I say, my mind spinning.

  ‘Knox has asked if he can speak to you. If you would like to hear what he has to say you can speak to him now.’

  ‘Now?’ I say, startled. ‘He’s here?’

  ‘Yes. We, and Kate, would be present at all times and the conversation would take place here at the station. You don’t have to speak to him if you don’t want to. If you have any reservations, please feel free to say so and we will tell Knox that you’re not up for it.’

  My heart thuds hard in my chest. ‘No, I want to hear what he has to say.’

  ‘Don’t feel pressured to do this,’ Kate says. ‘You do not have to speak with him.’

  ‘No, I want to. I need to hear this.’

  I need to see Knox Chisel with my own eyes, because, all of a sudden, nothing makes sense.

  Dad and Knox arrived home sometime in the night. Their voices carry up the stairs. I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. In my mind I see Knox on the beach, running urgently, to beat the plane, to do … something. What did he do? What did he need to hide? Sudden silence brings my thoughts back to the here and now and I realise Knox is upstairs. My heart star
ts to gallop. I stop breathing and lie still, willing him to walk past my door, willing him to leave me alone. The next sound I hear is the soft clunk of his bathroom door and the water of the shower running. I exhale. Being on the same level of the house, even in different rooms, makes me want to puke, so I get up.

  Dad is at the kitchen bench, hunched over a cup of tea. He looks up at me, but says nothing. Mum is on the sofa with a box of tissues in front of her. When she sees me she cries harder. I leave her be.

  ‘Did you find anything?’

  Dad shakes his head. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Did you search all of the beaches on the island? All of the caves?’

  ‘We searched everywhere.’

  ‘Did you split up? Were you always with Knox?’

  Dad cocks his head at me and his eyes narrow. ‘Why?’

  I hesitate, even though Knox is in the shower and I know he can’t hear us. ‘Dad, when I was up on the cliff I could see Knox on the beach below. When the plane was coming, I saw him run at something. Something I couldn’t see. I just …’ My words drop off because I don’t know what I’m trying to say. To suggest Knox may have found Christian and hidden him is crazy. Maybe I had lost my mind, too, like Knox had when he punched me. Maybe being traumatised makes your brain conjure up things like that, see things and draw wrong conclusions. ‘I just wondered if it was something from the boat,’ I lie. ‘Did you find anything from the boat?’

  ‘Quite a bit. Bits and pieces were starting to wash up.’

  ‘How’s Uncle Oliver?’

  ‘I haven’t heard. I’m calling the hospital now.’

  Dad gets up and heads to his office. My gaze goes to Mum, still sniffling on the couch.

  ‘Selena isn’t answering my messages,’ she says.

  I lean on the kitchen bench and notice a notepad has been screwed up and thrown onto the floor. I pick it up and spread out the creases. There’s nothing on it. It’s blank apart from the family coat of arms Dad and Oliver had designed. Mum looks up.

  ‘Your father did that. He no longer feels the Chisels rule on the sea.’ Mum looks up at the ceiling, as though she never thought we did anyway.