by T L Swan
I make the trip to my car, and with every step I get closer to it, a little bit more excitement fills me.
Simon has something to live for, something that isn’t me, and I could feel that he and Penny have a connection.
I close my eyes as I wait for the elevator.
Please let them fall in love.
Please let him have the happy ever after that he deserves.
A baby… it’s so much motivation to give him the will to live.
I stare at the ceiling above me as I hear the clock tick over again.
I don’t remember driving home. I don’t remember walking up to my apartment, getting in the shower, or going to bed.
All I remember is the sound of a huge chapter of my life closing.
I’m happy that this has happened, but strangely enough, I’m a little sad.
It’s bittersweet.
I sacrificed Brock… for what?
Where does this leave me?
“Hello, hello.” I laugh as I grab Rourke in an embrace.
He laughs out loud and spins me around. “Thank fuck you’re back,” he teases.
I nod as I pull out of his arms. “I am so back, and I am not going anywhere ever again.” I smile.
It’s my first day back at work in a month. Who knew I would miss the place so much?
“What’s been happening?” I smile. “What do you want me to do today?”
“We have lots to do.” Rourke sits down at his desk and puts his finger to his lips, looking around to make sure no one can hear us.
I frown. “Huh?”
He writes down on a piece of paper.
We need to talk.
I scowl and look back up at him.
“Let’s go and get a coffee,” he says.
Rourke doesn’t even like coffee. “Okay.” He links his arm with mine before he practically runs me out of the building.
We break out through the front doors. “What the heck is going on?” I ask.
“F-fuck, fuck, fuck,” he stammers. “Something is going on in the lab.”
“What do you mean?” I frown as we walk towards the coffee shop.
“Evidence is being moved at night.”
“What?”
“You know that hair sample I thought I lost? The one we thought had been signed out a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yeah.”
“It turned up.”
“What do you mean it turned up?”
“Just that. It was just there one day, but I know I checked that very spot. Somebody had put it there overnight.”
I frown. “You think it was tampered with?”
“I know it was.”
My eyes widen. “By who?”
“Fuck knows, but it got me thinking, so I’ve been testing a few things, and I think the lab is bugged.”
“Bugged?” I shriek. “By who?”
“Shh.” He looks around nervously. “Keep your voice down.”
“Who would bug the lab?” I whisper.
“Somebody who is up to no fucking good is my guess,” he whispers.
“Why would they do that?” I shake my head as I try to think clearly. “I’m so confused.”
“I don’t know, but the other night I told Angela where I was putting another DNA sample that had just came in from another murder victim. I told her I hadn’t tested it and I was going to work on it in the morning, so I was leaving it in the drawer. Not the drawer it was supposed to be in, but another drawer.”
I listen.
“Then I booby trapped the sample.”
I frown. “Booby trapped it, how?”
“I put a piece of my own hair into the bag and hid the real sample.”
My eyes widen in horror. “Fuck, Rourke. You could lose your job for tampering with evidence. What the heck are you thinking?” I whisper angrily.
“Get this. In the morning, the hair in the bag… it wasn’t mine.”
“What?” I gasp. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. The only way this could have happened is if the lab is bugged. They knew where the evidence was, and then it was switched overnight.”
I put my hand over my mouth. “Oh my God.” I think for a moment. “So… who? Who do we think is responsible?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. It could be a cleaner or someone from downstairs.”
“Did you tell anyone?” I ask.
“No. The only people who can come up here undetected is management.”
“You think this is someone in management?” I frown.
“Fuck knows. I’ve been waiting for you to get back so we can come up with a plan. If they are tampering with evidence, it means they are the ones who killed these girls. It also means that they have the means to kill me.”
I put my head into my hands. “Fucking hell. What do we do?” I whisper.
“Just don’t say anything out loud until we work something out, and be vigilant. Be aware of everyone who comes into the lab. We have to work out who we can trust.”
I nod as I drag my hands down my face. “Shit, what a fucking nightmare. It’s like a crime show or something.”
Rourke links his arm with mine. “Welcome back, bitch.”
I bubble up a giggle. “I swear, the universe is trying to give me an ulcer.”
Rourke winks. “I’ve got two.”
Brock
I sit at the restaurant and wait for my meal. I couldn’t be bothered to cook tonight. In fact, I can’t be bothered to do anything lately.
I glance up and see a guy and his girlfriend laughing at the bar, and my stomach twists with jealousy.
She’s reading out the menu and laughing while he is standing there holding one of her hands, his other hand on her behind.
They look happy… in love.
I frown as I watch them, and a million memories of Tully wash over me.
I wish I’d never met her, because then I wouldn’t know what I was missing by not having her by my side.
It’s as if the whole world has been tainted, all because now I know how the other half live.
A life that never interested me before happens to be the only one I want now.
To feel settled and calm with love and laughter.
To feel what I had with Tully. But it will never be the same now because the girl will never be Tully.
Our ship has sailed.
Fuck this, I’m going home. I stand just as the waitress arrives at my table with my dinner.
“Oh.” She frowns as she sees me standing to leave. “Your dinner is here.”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “I’m not just feeling it anymore. You eat it.” I turn, making my way of the door and out to my car.
I don’t even know who I am anymore.
Tully
The rain is falling heavily as I sit inside my car. I’m parked outside Brock’s house, peering across the street. It’s dusk now. I need to talk to him, if for no other reason than to apologise for how I treated him.
I frown as I think back to the day when I ended it between us in London. I was so sure I was doing the right thing at the time.
But hindsight is the worst form of torture.
If only, the worst words you can whisper to yourself.
I’ve been back in Australia for a week and I have wanted to call him every day, but I didn’t know what to say.
What can I possibly say now that will make what I did okay and take away the pain from us?
I never thought I would make huge, life changing mistakes at this age. I thought I would have my shit well and truly together by now. Know exactly what I’m doing and with who.
What a joke. I had the love of my life and I threw him away with no regard for anything but Simon. And I don’t regret being there for Simon, I just wish I thought things through a lot more clearly before I followed through with it.
The rain is really coming down when his black Range Rover pulls into the driveway. I close my eyes.
Here we go…
I’ve been sick with nerves all
day worrying about how tonight will go.
Brock gets out of the car, soon seeing me sitting in mine. He turns towards me and stares, not looking away, despite the rain.
I stare back and smile softly. Then, without showing any emotion, he turns and walks inside without acknowledging me at all, the door slamming shut behind him.
My eyes fill with tears. There’s my answer.
My chest shakes, rising high as I try to hold back my impending sobs of despair. Brock hates me…. the sound of the rain is loud in my car and the windshield is fogging up as I sit alone in the darkness.
What have I done?
For fifteen minutes, I sit in my car trying to work out a plan of action, trying to work out what the hell I can do to make this better. But, I’ve got nothing… nothing except this overwhelming sense of dread. I need to talk to him. I need to try and explain everything. I need to make him see my point of view.
I get out of my car and run across the road in the rain. It’s pouring down now and I’m saturated. I bang the big brass knocker on his door.
Bang, bang, bang.
I wait.
Please answer, please answer.
Bang, bang, bang.
“Brock!” I call. “I know you’re in there,” I cry, trying to make myself heard over the sound of the loud rain.
I pound on the door with my fist.
“Brock!” I cry. “Open the door. Please,” I beg. “I need to talk to you.”
But the door stays shut, and I hear the lock click from the other side. He’s locked it.
My heart drops.
I screw up my face and I begin to cry uncontrollably. He doesn’t even want to speak to me.
I’m standing here in a storm from hell and he doesn’t even want to talk to me.
I bang again and again, and I start to plead with him. “Please, Brock. I’m sorry!” I cry. “Please, open the door.”
The door stays shut, and eventually, I slip down it to sit on his front step in the rain.
My chest is throbbing, my head, too.
I’ve hit an all-time low.
After an hour of sitting in the cold rain and dark night, I eventually pick myself up and drag myself back to my car. For a long time I stare through the fogged up windshield, doing nothing but looking at his house.
I start the car and pull out into the street completely numb.
My life is a complete disaster.
I sit and stare at the computer screen in front of me. My mind is a million miles away. I get a vision of myself begging Brock while standing in the rain outside his house last night, and shame fills me.
Who am I?
I completely lost my shit last night, along with any dignity I ever had. I think back to all the things that have happened between us, including the gym where we met. Then him seeing me here when he was asking about that police car.
Hang on a minute. I frown. Shit, I had completely forgotten about that. I wrote that number plate he was asking about down somewhere that day. Where did I write it?
What did I have with me that day? The case notes, my diary. My diary.
I take my diary out from my drawer and begin to go through it, looking for a number plate number.
I look on every page, but I can’t see it. Shit, where did I write that down? I know I did somewhere.
I go over the meeting I was having that day, and I type the job into the computer to find out the date of that meeting. Got it.
I flick through the diary at double speed and open it on that date.
With my finger, I trace through all the notes. At the very bottom of the page I see it.
NGH 167
Okay, it was the night before, so that makes it…
I check the dates, go downstairs and make my way out to the backroom. The car rosters go up for two months at a time, so it may be still up on the wall.
I go through the dates. Here it is. I trace my finger across
NGH 167 Peter Mulgrave.
What the fuck?
Peter?
I put the key into my apartment door at exactly 6:00 p.m. It’s been a long day at work and I just don’t know what to make of all this Peter business. Maybe it’s just a bad coincidence. I didn’t say anything to Rourke. I can’t until I know for certain what the hell is going on.
Peter is not a crook, I know that. A sleaze? Maybe. But not a hardened criminal… is he?
I open the door and freeze.
The energy is different and my spine tingles. I look around to see if someone is here.
“Hello?” I call into the silence. I look around the apartment, but everything seems the same. There’s no trace of anything missing. But something is definitely off. “Hello…” I call again, and I hear a noise come from the bedroom.
A sense of fear grips me. I calmly walk back out and close the door, and then I run down the hall and jump into the elevator. I get out on the ground floor and I run across to Meredith’s apartment, banging on the door furiously.
“Who is it?” she calls.
“Meredith, it’s me!” I cry. “Let me in.”
The door opens in a rush and Ben is standing before me. Huh? What’s he doing here? I step back in surprise. My eyes look past him into Meredith’s apartment, and I see that it’s completely trashed. Meredith is sitting on the couch with Jesten.
“What’s going on?” I whisper, officially terrified.
“Come in,” Ben says. I walk past him and step into the apartment. I stop still in my tracks.
Brock is standing by the window. He glares at me for just a second before he snaps his eyes away angrily.
Fuck.
My heart begins to beat hard and fast at the sight of him.
“W-what happened here?” I stammer.
“Meredith has been robbed. It seems they were looking for something.”
“I think they’re in my apartment right now. That’s… that’s why I ran down here,” I tell them, out of breath and nervous.
“What?” Brock frowns.
“I heard a noise come from the bedroom as soon as I walked in,” I whisper.
Brock and Ben take off out the door and run up the hall. “Be careful!” I call after them.
I look around Meredith’s apartment. The entire place is destroyed. Everything is upturned and ripped apart. I drop to the couch beside her.
She’s rattled and physically shaking. I put my arm around her. “It’s okay, baby,” I whisper as I pull her close. “It’s okay.”
But it’s not okay, I can tell by the look on Jesten’s face. This is as far from okay as it gets.
“Wendy Woo is dead,” she whispers.
My eyes widen. “What?” I look over to Jes, and he gives me a subtle nod of his head to confirm what she’s saying is true.
“What the hell is going on?” I whisper.
“A lot of shit,” he answers quietly. “I’ll let Brock explain.”
I drop my head into my hands. This is a fucking nightmare. Poor Meredith. Two of her friends have been murdered and now this has happened to her apartment.
“Who did this?” I turn to Meredith.
“I don’t know anything,” she replies calmly—too calmly. I frown at her. That’s a practiced speech, I can tell. She does know who did this.
“Meredith?” I whisper.
Jes gives me a subtle shake of his head. “Wait for the boys.”
Oh, okay.
I take Meredith’s hand in mine and we sit in silence.
We wait, and we wait. Jes seems to be getting worried too because he goes to the door and peers down the corridor.
He waits for a moment and then he dials a number. “You okay?” he asks.
“Good. See you soon.” He hangs up. “They’re coming back up now.”
“Oh, thank God,” I whisper.
Brock and Ben walk through the door and I hold my breath. “What’s happening?” I ask.
“Your apartment is clear. Meredith is going into a safehouse,” Brock tells me matter-of
-factly.
“What?” She frowns.
“Don’t argue with me, Meredith. This is serious. Tell me what you know!” Brock snaps.
“N-nothing,” she stammers nervously. “Don’t know anything and you can’t get hurt. Don’t know anything and you can’t get hurt,” she begins to chant.
“Did Wendy Woo tell you that?” I ask.
Meredith’s eyes come to me, as if she’s surprised that I knew who told her that.
“I want to go home, I want to go home.” She starts to get agitated and begins to pace back and forth. I look up to Brock, but he snaps his eyes away from mine in disgust. He can’t even look at me.
“I’m going to take Meredith now,” Brock says.
I stand. “I’m coming, too.”
“No! You don’t go anywhere near Meredith until we say so,” he tells me firmly, leaving no room for argument.
My eyes flicker between the three men. He thinks I’ll be in danger if I spend time with her. Shit.
“You’ll have protection in your own apartment,” he says as he pulls Meredith from her chair.
Oh good. “Are you coming back?” I ask hopefully. Maybe I’ll get to talk to him then.
“No.” He looks to Ben. “Organise someone to come and stay with Tully, will you?”
“I-I don’t… No, I don’t want a stranger in my apartment.”
Brock’s cold eyes rise to meet mine. “Tough shit.”
Chapter 23
I sit on the sofa in my apartment. Ben is in the kitchen and Jesten is out in the hall.
Brock is nowhere to be seen. He left hours ago with Meredith and hasn’t returned since. Ben is being polite, but it’s obvious he doesn’t particularly want to talk to me, either.
My mind is racing.
Am I really in danger? Is Meredith in danger, or have these guys just been watching too much cable?
What the heck happened to Wendy Woo? And Peter… is he really capable of all of this? I wouldn’t have thought he was intelligent enough to pull this shit off and I know for sure he’s not violent. If people are dying and he’s responsible, then he must be getting someone else to do it for him because he can’t even kill a fly. It just doesn’t add up, not at all. None of it.