Wreck

by Fleur Ferris

  I huff out a deep breath. I hate making Dad angry.

  ‘We don’t have to talk about this now.’ Mum’s in pacify mode already. ‘Maybe you can go next year, honey.’

  I can’t live here for a year after what Knox did. I know Dad is furious with me but I meet his eyes anyway.

  ‘I’m sure this time,’ I say. ‘I should never have changed my mind.’

  ‘I don’t think any of us should be making such big decisions right now. It’s not the right moment,’ Mum says.

  The doorbell chimes.

  ‘Knox must have left the security gate open,’ Dad growls as he goes to the door. ‘Please remove yourselves from my property immediately. I’m calling the police,’ Dad says to a group of reporters and quickly closes the door. He grabs his phone and dials.

  ‘They’re back, at the door just now. Can we have them removed, please?’

  He puts his phone back in his pocket and sighs. Reporters have been relentless and Dad has been persistently uncooperative with them, which contradicts everything he’s always said about media.

  ‘News is news,’ Dad would say. ‘I don’t make it or own it, I’m just obliged to tell it like it is. People want facts, people deserve the truth.’

  However, it appears that when his family makes the news he does own it and his obligation to ‘tell it like it is’ doesn’t apply, especially when he has Carrington working for him. If Dad is the magician, Carrington is his wand. Together they can make anything happen.

  When I graduate, I don’t want to work with them. Although I’ve been saying I’m going to study law and economics like Knox and Christian, the truth is, I don’t want to. I don’t know what I want to study or what I want to be. I envy kids whose parents have normal jobs and don’t care what their kids do. I’d do anything for that freedom.

  ‘It might be exactly the right time for you to go to boarding school,’ says Dad. ‘At least you’d be getting away from this.’ He gestures towards the door and shakes his head, irritated. ‘I’ll get Carrington onto it first thing tomorrow morning.’

  I breathe a deep, measured sigh of relief.

  ‘Everything seems crazy right now, but I think we need to discuss this further, Damien. We need to think about it carefully.’ Mum’s tone is stern.

  ‘We did think about it carefully. He would have been there now had he not pulled out, so what’s the difference?’

  ‘The difference is that we’ve just suffered a family tragedy. William is grieving. The family is grieving.’

  ‘It might do him good to get away. Less intense, less of a circus.’ He realises he won’t win this argument now. ‘Okay, son, your mother and I will discuss it further and if we decide you can go, Carrington will make arrangements.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’ I look at Mum. ‘I’m okay. I think it’s exactly the right time. Like Dad said, it will do me good to be away from all of this,’ I say.

  Dad picks his glass up off the table and I notice a tremor in his hand. When I came in he looked more stressed than usual, well, since the accident. Dad is drinking whisky and Mum has gin. Their eyes are bloodshot and Dad is tapping the coffee table in front of him like he’s agitated. I ignored it earlier because I was so focused on putting the boarding school idea out there. But now it occurs to me that they may have received news about Christian.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask. ‘Did you hear something?’

  Mum looks at Dad like she isn’t sure if I should know. Finally she answers.

  ‘They’ve finished their ground search of the islands and the area of water where they thought the current would have taken Christian. They haven’t found him.’

  ‘They don’t know for sure, though, do they? Will they expand the search?’

  ‘Yes. They are expanding their search, but … er …’ Dad stalls.

  ‘They’re not confident,’ Mum says.

  ‘Yes, but they can be wrong,’ I say.

  ‘That’s true,’ Mum says, but her voice cracks. ‘We should all try to stay hopeful.’

  As I get up from the sofa, movement in the reflection of the patio door catches my eye. Knox is standing in the shadows, listening. He takes a couple of steps away from the door and disappears out of sight. I thought he’d gone. I hadn’t heard him come back in.

  So, Knox has just found out that authorities are losing hope of finding Christian. He should be gutted at the thought of Christian not being found, or being found dead. But seeing him slink away like that sends a chill down my spine. Knox would frizzle up and die of jealousy if Christian returned and things went back to normal.

  Death scene: Christian is found alive.

  When we arrive at Relle’s house, her mum, Gab, greets me with a huge hug. I pat her arm until she releases me. We sit down and she lets us tell the whole story without asking too many questions. When we finish she looks to be on the verge of tears.

  ‘As soon as your parents land you have to ring them and tell them you are here and you are safe. They will be on the first plane back if they get even a whiff of this story. And until things settle down, you will stay with us. I don’t think you should stay at home on your own,’ Gab says.

  ‘To be honest, I don’t think I could stay there on my own. I’m too jittery.’

  ‘What are you missing this week?’ Gab asks.

  ‘Drinking games and kissing cute boys,’ Relle says with a sigh.

  Gab rolls her eyes.

  ‘Did you kiss a cute boy?’ I say. ‘Oh my God, you have kissing news? Do you want to go back? Don’t let me stop you.’

  ‘No, don’t be silly. We can kiss boys after all this is over.’

  We laugh.

  ‘So what do we do now?’ says Relle.

  ‘I really want to call Christian’s father. We could get some insight into Zel’s behaviour since the boating incident,’ I say.

  ‘How do we call one of the richest men in Australia?’ Relle asks.

  She’s got a point. How on earth do I contact Oliver Chisel?

  ‘He must have an assistant. I could leave a message. If he knows I was with Zel and that Zel is in trouble, he might call back.’

  ‘Yeah, but he might tell Knox too. And if you’re right about him, you don’t want him knowing you’re suspicious,’ Gab says.

  ‘True.’ I consider this. ‘I’d have to go and see him personally.’

  ‘And then it’s uncertain whether he’d see you.’

  I think for a moment. She’s right. ‘Another place there could be evidence is on that island. But if Knox was behind Christian being left there, I’m certain he would have gone back and disposed of anything incriminating. Knox wouldn’t risk leaving any loose ends. He’s too smart,’ I say.

  ‘Except for the bottles with notes,’ says Relle. ‘If Christian had already let them drift out to sea, Knox couldn’t have found them. So all the murders are Knox’s way of cleaning up. There must be some evidence of that. Surely the police would have investigated each crime scene. There must be something to link them together.’

  ‘What about in Sydney?’ I say. ‘Knox’s office, his computer? If he’s hiring people to kill, surely there would be some information or transactions of payment?’

  ‘Wait. Relle, did you just say all of the murders? What do you mean?’ Gab asks.

  ‘Zel told Tamara that three other people have found notes and they’ve all died or disappeared.’

  Gab gasps. ‘My God! This is too much, too dangerous. We can’t be involved in this. I won’t let you. We have to call the police. We are in way over our heads.’ Gab is freaking out.

  ‘The police are already involved – they believe Knox,’ I remind Gab. ‘We can’t call them.’

  ‘What about the nice one … the sergeant who gave you his card. Maybe you should call him and tell him what you suspect. He would know what to do.’ Gab says it with conviction and she gets up to grab her phone. ‘Here.’ She hands it to me. She wants someone else to take charge. Her eyes are wide with fear. She takes a deep breath an
d places her hand on top of mine. ‘Tamara, I know you want to do what is right and just, but two good men in this town have already died. This is not a battle we should consider.’ As she pulls her hand away, I notice it is trembling. Relle stands and places her hand on Gab’s shoulder.

  ‘Mum’s right, Tamara. This is too big for us.’

  I agree with them. I do. With everything they’re saying. But if Zel is captured and put into jail or into a psychiatric hospital, or if he’s killed, I would never forgive myself. They are right, and their love and worry for me is pouring out of their hearts. I can’t lie to their beautiful, caring faces, which is why I look to the floor when I say my next words.

  ‘You’re right. This is for the police to handle. We should count our lucky stars and run the other way.’

  I have the longest shower at Relle’s house, eat until I can eat no more and go to bed before it’s dark. The clean sheets are cool against my skin and I thank the universe that I’m still here to enjoy them. I use my phone to go online and research the Chisel family. A picture of Knox comes up on my screen. He is with his wife, Portia Phoenix. Humanitarian, charity worker and daughter of property tycoon billionaires Georgia and Leonard Phoenix. Portia is stunning, dressed in a long wedding gown. Portia and Knox were married two years ago. It was an intimate gathering of one hundred and twenty guests and cost two million dollars.

  I search for Selena and Oliver Chisel next. Oliver was often in the business news before the boating accident, but not so much recently. There are a few photos of Selena. In one shot she’s at a fashion show in Paris, wearing a black and cream dress and heels so fine and spiky that they could be used as weapons. That picture also predates the boating accident. There is another photo of her accepting a giant cheque for a hospital charity, this time wearing a white pants suit. I ask Google for the address of Oliver and Selena Chisel and a link to a tweet comes up.

  There is a photo of a mansion. The caption says: Home of Media Moguls Oliver & Selena Chisel, Winbilla Road, Point Piper. AU$7.9 million #HomesOfTheRichAndFamous.

  God, I love the internet. It doesn’t give me the exact address, but I bet it’s easy to find and it’s a solid starting point. I save the image.

  My head is throbbing from the tension of everything that has happened over the past day. I get up and ask Gab for something for my headache and she hands me two aspirin with a glass of water. I thank her and hug her goodnight.

  I poke my head into the lounge room. ‘Night, Relle. Thank you for coming to rescue me from the police station today.’

  She smiles. ‘Anytime. You call, I’ll come running, but next time buy me cake.’

  I walk over and hug her. ‘I mean it,’ I say. ‘Love you.’

  ‘Love you too. Come into my room if you wake up.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘You look beat. Go, get some sleep.’

  Hearing the word ‘sleep’ makes me feel my fatigue and I sway on my feet. I crawl into bed, close my eyes and let sleep take me away.

  The house is dark and quiet when I wake. I use my phone’s torch to find my way to the kitchen. I grab some paper and scribble a note to Relle and Gab. The betrayal makes me feel so bad that I almost go into Relle’s room to tell her my plans, but I don’t want her or Gab to try to stop me. They are right to not want to be a part of this. It is dangerous. My hand shakes as I write reassuring words, letting them know that what I’m doing is safe and that I have my phone with me and will keep it on at all times so they can contact me.

  I change into jeans and a thin pink sweater, pick up my bag and quietly slip out the side door. I carry my thongs until I’m past the front gate and onto the road so they don’t slap noisily against my feet. This walk is so familiar that I could do it in my sleep. But this morning the town is too quiet. Perhaps it’s only in my head, but I can feel the sorrow behind every window, inside every house. This town is in mourning. Even the waves are quieter than usual, like they’re too sad to crash and pound against the rocks, too depressed to do anything but ebb in and out gently, and that’s only because the moon says they have to.

  My nerves are frayed and I look behind me countless times thinking someone is there. I walk in the middle of the road, out of the shadows, away from the black spaces that are driveways and the hiding spots of trees. I can’t shake the feeling that someone is lurking, so I run. The slap of my thongs hitting the road with each step spooks me further and spurs me into a sprint.

  My heart rate quickens to match the pace of my legs and my mind’s tricks go wild. Every shadow and every branch is them, waiting to pounce, waiting to get me. My house comes into view and I lengthen my stride. I run full pelt to the front door, then open it and turn the light on at the same time. Even though I’m expecting it, the sight of the ransacked mess smacks me in the face and makes my stomach lurch. The fear I felt when that gun was held to my head bears down on me, like it’s all happening again now. My feet are rooted to the floor. I have to start talking myself out of this mind space of terror or I will still be standing here a week from now. I breathe deeply. No one is here. The hallway is dark, the doors open into dark rooms on either side and I know I have to walk down there to get a bag of clothes from my room and toiletries from the bathroom. Maybe I don’t need them. I’m only doing a day trip. Maybe I should just grab the car key and get the hell out of here. Yes. A much better option.

  I’m almost too petrified to move. My heart pounds hard in my chest, like when I was carried from my house, tied up and taken away by Zel. I force myself to turn, pick up the keys from where I dropped them on the hallway table and walk outside, pulling the door shut behind me. The car seat is cold. My hands shake as I put the key into the ignition. The engine roars to life and I slam the car into reverse and back out of the driveway. As I pause on the road to put the car into drive, I force myself to look into the back seat all the way to the floor behind me to make sure no one is hiding there. It’s clear.

  As I drive off into the night, relief starts to come and my heart steadies. While I’m moving, I feel safe. No one else is on the road, which means I’m not being followed. My face heats with the realisation of what a total mess I am. What will I be like when all of this is over? Will I be able to stay on my own at res? Will I ever feel safe on my own again, like I used to? Now I worry about this too.

  The sliver of light that illuminates the horizon also calms my soul. By the time I reach the car park at the airport the sky has blended into pale silver and I begin to feel almost normal. My heart is no longer hammering in my chest and my fingers have less of a tremor. I find a park close to the shuttle stop. Like the light, being around other people further abates my fear. I move to the most crowded section of the bus and sit near a group of girls who obviously know each other, dressed in shorts, runners and matching wristbands. Pink stains their cheeks and they rush their words and giggle excitedly. One is passing around her new passport, gasping and laughing at the photo, like Relle did when she got hers for our school trip to Italy. I smile at the memory.

  It’s almost six o’clock. There is a real chance that Gab or Relle has discovered the note I left. My phone could ring any minute. There’s a message from Mum and Dad to tell me they landed safely and that they hope everything is going well at uni and res. I’m glad they don’t know anything yet. I send a text telling them I’m glad they arrived safely and that I’m fine. I mention that there are some things going on so I spent last night with Gab and Relle. I’m going to have to tell them about Darryl and Simon too. They will find out the moment they make contact with anyone from home. People will be posting messages about it on Facebook by now.

  The bus stops at the domestic terminal and I jump off. I haven’t purchased a flight yet so I book one online. I scan my phone and my boarding pass prints out. I take it and head to the gate even though I have fifty minutes to wait and the gate is quiet and empty.

  My phone vibrates and the screen lights up with Relle’s face.

  ‘Hi,’ I say.

 
‘What the absolute fuck?’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry. I feel terrible, but I can’t just do nothing.’

  There’s silence.

  ‘Look, I’m not doing anything dangerous. I’m at the airport, I have a flight to Sydney, I’ll visit Oliver Chisel at his house in broad daylight and I’ll tell him what I know. That’s it. Then I’ll head straight back to the airport and jump on a plane home. I’ll be back before dark.’

  Relle is repeating what I say to Gab.

  ‘Hang on, Tam,’ Relle says. She then talks to Gab. ‘Mum says to wait. That if you have to do this, we’ll come with you.’

  Guilt pangs in my chest. ‘Guys, no, seriously, I’m not letting you do that.’

  ‘She says she’s not going to wait,’ Relle says to Gab. There’s a pause and I can hear Gab in the background.

  ‘Tell Tamara that I can have someone meet her at the airport. I have a friend who lives in the city. He can meet Tamara and go with her. He’ll do it if I ask him to.’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Relle, tell your mum I’m fine. There is nothing dangerous about visiting someone in broad daylight. I have my phone with me. I will call you when I land, when I arrive at the Chisels, after I come out and when I’m back at the airport. How does that sound?’

  Relle relays my plan to Gab. ‘It’s not like she’s going to a rough part of town. I don’t know where Oliver Chisel lives but I imagine it’s a safe area,’ Relle adds, working for me now.

  There’s silence while Gab thinks about it.

  ‘Okay, but Mum says you have to promise to do all of that.’

  I can hear Gab in the background going on about how I am an adult now and she knows she can’t stop me but she still cares and wants to make sure I’m all right while my parents are away and I have to call if I need anything and to call at the first sign of trouble, and … she is still going when I start talking to Relle.

  ‘Relle, thanks. Again, I’m so sorry to have snuck off. You understand, don’t you? If Zel is innocent …’ I stop talking because I sense something in Relle’s breathing, in her poise, her silence.