by Nicole Trope
‘Send a bus,’ he said. ‘Send two.’
Lisa at the station took the call and he heard her sharp intake of breath when he told her they would need the ambulances.
Lisa had taken the first call from the mother. Lisa had done everything right and then they had all done everything right and still here they were in this park in the almost-dark with the car and the bodies.
They had done everything right.
Julie sank to her knees and put her head in her hands. She had only just been made a full constable. She carried pictures of her nieces in her wallet. She stopped to talk to kids on the street and she bent down to their level so they wouldn’t find her scary.
Aiden could believe it. He looked at the blood-covered bodies and he could believe it.
He had never seen anything like it before but he had mates who’d been on this kind of case and they told tales at the pub. They drowned out the images with one too many beers.
He looked around the empty park and watched the swing move in the slight wind that was picking up.
Everyone would be here soon. The ambulances would come and there would be more police.
The park would fill with flashing lights and the neighbours would stand outside peering at someone else’s tragedy, careful not to get too close. Families always stood huddled together—grateful to be standing in a group, grateful that no one was missing.
If he listened beyond the quiet of this park he could already hear the scream of ambulance sirens and the whine of more police cars. The lights had come on and they lit up the empty oval, throwing shadows over the car.
Aiden had wanted the car to be empty. He had wanted the guy to be taking a bushwalk with his kid, but there they were. They were both in the front seat. The boy had a blue blanket over his face but the blood was in his hair. The blood was all over the blanket. He wanted to touch the little body but it was important that nothing was moved. Forensics would be along any minute.
There was no one else in the park and Aiden was thankful for that. The last thing he needed to deal with was some traumatised member of the public.
A park was a place for a child to play.
The little boy might have been looking forward to climbing the ladder and whizzing down the slide. He might have anticipated the sweet stomach-turning feel of flying through the air on the swing. He might have wanted to have a go at the climbing frame even though it looked a bit complicated.
Aiden didn’t like to think what he would have felt when he realised that today he was not allowed to play in the park. That he was never going to play in the park again.
They’d all hoped it would end differently.
But the reality of a situation like this was that they never made it on time.
There were too many stories around with this kind of ending.
Last-minute rescues only happened in the movies. In the movies, some hero got to rush in and rescue the kid, and then everyone got to have a laugh at the pub later on. If you watched too much television you could end up believing that the police were all-powerful, that nothing was ever left unsolved and that it was never too late. Children tended not to die on television. It was bad for ratings.
They died in real life.
In real life the police were mostly too late.
The sirens got closer. They sounded more desperate now.
The media would have heard they’d found the car. There was no way to keep the buggers off the channel. Today they would have reasoned that they were already involved. They would have been listening in and waiting. Aiden had never met a journalist who was afraid of biting the hand that fed him. In fact they seemed to relish the idea.
They tapped into mobile phones and used computers whenever they could. It was rumoured that one of the majors had hired someone whose only job was to hack into police phones, police computers and police radio.
With a bit of luck backup would get here first and section off the park so all the cameras would get were a few shots of serious-looking police officers shaking their heads.
Someone would already be preparing a statement to read once the wife had been told.
They would have to erect a tent to bring out the bodies.
The editors would have a field day with this. They loved a good family tragedy. They would find themselves a bunch of experts and interest groups and criticise the system as though anything could have prevented this.
You couldn’t possibly legislate enough to cover what people did when they were motivated by anger and hate and probably humiliation.
Or by some twisted concept of love.
He didn’t know all the facts but that’s what this would be about. It always was.
His first day on the job, one of the detectives had told a group of them, ‘It’s either sex, which is all bound up with love, or it’s money, boys and girls. Not much else motivates your average human being.’
Aiden had smiled with everyone else, feeling only slightly alarmed by the jaded comment. But that was a few years ago, and now he said the same thing to every new recruit he came across. It helped when you needed to ask questions.
He wiped his eyes, telling himself, ‘Buck up, matey—you’ve seen shit like this before.’
But there was so much blood. Blood smelled like metal. He had been a cop for four years before he’d seen enough blood to know that. There was so much of it inside the car the smell set his teeth on edge.
The grass underfoot was wet and the air was changed by the houses with wood-burning fires but the metallic stench surrounded the car.
The cold was taking hold but the bodies in the car were still warm.
They’d opened the windows and doors, careful not to dislodge the hose. The bastard had covered every angle. Aiden had used gloves and angled his body inside to turn off the engine.
There was no way this man was letting either of them get out alive.
They had come so close to saving them, so fucking close.
They were five minutes from the house where the mother lived. Only five minutes. There was a whole scary world out there but the most grisly of murders usually took place in the kitchen. People spent their lives looking out for suspicious strangers when the strangest person was usually the one sharing your bed.
They would have missed the car if he hadn’t insisted on pulling over and checking out the bushes. What was that? Dumb luck? Police instinct? God?
At least the mother would know now, sometimes the not-knowing could be a lot worse but, who would want to know a thing like this? His heart sank in sympathy with the woman. He could see the night she had ahead of her. Hopefully someone would get a doctor and he would knock her out until she could cope with what was coming.
They would have to get themselves together. Everyone would be here soon.
‘Buck up, matey,’ he said again.
He walked over to the car again and peered at the two figures inside.
‘Who will go and tell the family?’ asked Julie. She had come to stand next to him. She was wiping her face, getting ready for the circus.
‘Williams and Mathieson are there with the mother now. They’ll get the call so maybe they’ll tell her—or they might decided to wait for a social worker. Depends if they think they can control the situation or not.’
They stared down at the bodies as the sirens got closer and closer. There were a couple of people coming out of their houses now. The park would be full soon. This was better than television.
Aiden leaned into the car again to see where the gun had dropped. He couldn’t see it and decided that it must have fallen under the seat.
Later, when he was recounting the story to his young wife, who would sit through it all with her face a mask of horror, he didn’t mention how glad he had been to have Julie standing next to him when the world shifted just a little and one of the bodies in the car moved.
One of them moved.
Julie had blue eyes and blonde hair and Aiden’s wife didn’t need to know that afterw
ards, at the pub, they had hugged for just a little longer than they should have done.
He was glad Julie was standing next to him because even though they had checked and rechecked and there were no signs of life one of them moved and let out a sound that was more animal than human.
He had nearly lost it but Julie sprang into action and the bus arrived one minute later.
‘Bastard,’ whispered Julie as the ambos worked on him.
‘I checked him twice—more than twice,’ Julie said to the medic.
‘It can be difficult to find a pulse sometimes,’ said the medic.
Out came the oxygen mask and the towels so they could wipe away the blood.
The medics moved in slow motion, dancing around the body and finally getting a proper response. They nodded seriously to each other. Aiden looked around the park, noting the slow movement of people towards the ambulance.
‘Shit,’ he said.
‘Time to go,’ said the woman who was driving.
Together the paramedics lifted the stretcher into the ambulance.
‘I’m going with you,’ said Julie.
‘Okay,’ said the man, whose name was Christian.
‘Why?’ asked the woman with Linda on her tag.
‘I don’t want to let him out of my sight,’ said Julie. ‘I need to watch him.’
‘Whatever,’ said Christian, ‘let’s just get to the hospital—Julie, is it?’
‘Yeah,’ said Julie. ‘Do you think he’s going to be okay?’
‘I can’t answer that question. Right now he’s breathing. He’s still warm so it can’t have been long.’
‘Will he be okay?’
‘You know I can’t answer that question.’
Julie nodded her head. She understood that they were not allowed to say anything. Only a doctor could tell her but she had asked the question anyway.
‘How does stuff like this happen?’ she said.
Christian looked at her and shrugged his shoulders.
‘Yeah,’ said Julie. ‘It’s a bit like that.’
It had only been three hours.
Three hours didn’t seem like enough time to change the world but Julie knew well enough that it only took minutes for a life to alter so drastically that a person couldn’t imagine ever being the same again.
She was aware that when it came to all the terrible things a human mind could think up, three hours was practically a lifetime.
16
Robert’s phone and Dave’s both began ringing. The noise sliced through the mostly silent room.
The discordant sounds heralded the news they had been waiting for. Without any more information, Liz sensed the end in the rings.
The policemen moved away from the living room and into the kitchen. Liz stood up from her chair and began walking after them. They closed the door to the kitchen firmly.
She stood just a few feet away and thought about kicking it down. The calls could only mean one thing. They had found them.
She could put her ear against the door and hear everything. When her parents were still together they had always argued in the kitchen. With her ear pressed to the door Liz had been able to hear her father’s part in the discussion trail off a little more with each passing week. Eventually it was only her mother’s voice that came through the door, whining, arguing and needling, and Liz had known that her father was gone already.
She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the door, unable to make out what was going on. Robert was speaking now but all he was saying was ‘yep’ and ‘no’ and ‘fine’.
Everyone else in the room was silent, all of them staring at the closed kitchen door.
‘It’s probably just an update,’ said Rebecca.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Rhonda. ‘You know it’s all just about keeping the red tape running. They’re just reporting back. It’s okay, Liz. Sit down.’
But even Rebecca didn’t sound convinced. There were no more positives in this situation.
‘It’s dark and it looks so cold outside,’ said Liz. ‘Luke needs his big jacket when it’s cold. You know, Mum—the one with the fleece hood. He needs that jacket.’
Ellen stood up from the couch and she walked over to where Liz was standing. She reached out and touched her shoulder but Liz gave a little shrug and stepped away.
‘I know the jacket,’ said Ellen softly.
‘Will you get it, Mum?’ said Liz. Her back was to the room.
Ellen turned to look at Jack, who shrugged.
‘Okay, sweetie, I’ll get it. I’ll just go to his room and get it.’
Liz nodded.
In her head the theme to Bob the Builder went round and round. Bob could fix it—yes he could.
Robert and Dave came out of the kitchen.
Ellen returned holding Luke’s jacket.
Robert looked at the roomful of people and then into Liz’s eyes. ‘Just an update,’ he said, but then he looked at the door and walked away to the other end of the room. Dave didn’t say anything but he too looked towards the door. They were waiting for something.
Both policemen sat away from everyone else.
Liz watched them for a moment and then she gave her body a small shake and turned back to her chair. She picked up the phone and dialled Alex’s mobile one more time. Each time she dialled she imagined that this might be the time he picked up and that she would find the right words. Now she dialled the number her fingers could trace without her even looking and she watched the policemen.
They would not meet her eyes. She could have simply pressed Alex’s name on her mobile phone but each time she called him she pressed each number, hoping that this time the universe would have the time to get the outcome right.
Later she would look at her mobile and see that she had called him two hundred and fifty times.
‘I think you need to rest a little, Liz,’ said Rhonda.
Everyone in the room nodded.
The room was filling up with the silent contemplation of people waiting for the worst. When everyone had arrived there had been a distinct feeling that the time needed to pass, and that once enough time had passed they could all look back at those hours and agree that it had been difficult. They could remember their concern but they could also shake their heads and thank whoever they needed to thank that everything was fine. In a few years they would probably be able to laugh at how worried they had all been and it had all been over something silly.
Now the possibility that these few hours were just the beginning was all anyone could think. There would be no sighs of relief, no ‘how silly we were’.
He didn’t need a gun. Luke was just a little boy. His third birthday had only been a month ago. On his cake dinosaurs had roamed an iced green landscape and there was one extra unlit candle on the side—to grow on. The weather had been warmer then and Liz had invited his whole preschool class and some of the children from his old playgroup.
She had made jelly shapes and clown cupcakes. Jack had paid for an entertainer and Spiderman had come to play games and make balloon animals. Luke had whooped and shouted and jumped through the day. That night she had snuggled him into bed and he had put his little hands on her cheeks and said, ‘That was the bestest day of my whole entire life, Mum.’
‘It was the bestest day of my life too, Lukie,’ she had replied and then he had gripped his blankie and put his thumb in his mouth.
Liz and her mother had been cleaning up well into the night but they had discussed the other mothers and laughed about Spiderman falling over and all the children jumping on top of him. Alex had come but he had been quiet and stayed off to one side for most of the party. Luke hadn’t wanted to be with his father when the other children were there to play with and Liz had felt a small stab of sympathy for how out of place he looked. She had wanted to go over and talk to him but Ellen had told her that Alex needed to get used to this. Liz was still holding him off then, still being distant and cold, and so she had ignored him and enjoyed the party.
She wondered now if he had been planning this even then. If she had shown him some kindness, would he have abandoned the plan?
It was inconceivable that there would never be another birthday. Inconceivable that Luke would never crawl into her bed at the crack of dawn and ask serious questions about space. It was not the way this day should have ended.
Liz walked back and forth across the living room. Her father’s chair had ceased to be a comfort. Her skin itched and her heart raced.
‘Please, Liz,’ said Ellen. ‘Just sit down and close your eyes for a few minutes.’
‘I can’t rest. He has my baby. I can’t . . . I just don’t know what to do. Can you tell me what to do?’ she said, looking at Robert.
Robert stood up and drew a breath, then sat down again, shaking his head sadly.
It was then that Liz knew for sure what the phone call had been about.
His expression was blank but his eyes held the telltale shine of unshed tears. Robert knew the truth but he was keeping it to himself. Perhaps he knew what would happen if he said the words and he was worried about how to handle things or maybe he was waiting for final news, final words, so that he could tell her where her baby was.
‘How long do I have?’ she wondered. ‘How many more minutes of hope do I have left?’
Robert rubbed at his face and then stood up and made his way to the kitchen. Dave followed.
‘We need to get the social worker here,’ whispered Dave.
‘I know,’ said Robert. ‘I’ve called her.’
‘Maybe you should just tell her. Tell her and put her out of her misery.’
‘Dave, there’s a proper way to do these things. We have to wait for the paramedics to confirm death at the scene before we say anything. We can’t have everyone screaming down there and getting in the way. It’s a crime scene.’
‘Fuck, I can’t believe this has happened. I can’t believe we’ve been here for hours and we still couldn’t stop this from happening.’
‘Mostly we can’t stop it, Dave. Mostly we just pick up the pieces.’
‘I can’t believe how close he was,’ said Dave.
The door to the kitchen moved a little and even though both men registered the movement, they didn’t understand that Liz had pressed her ear against the wood, desperate for an answer.