Certain he must be hallucinating, Tim walked slowly towards his baby sister as the now all too familiar hollowness swallowed him whole. Feeling invisible and weightless he stepped towards what he wanted to believe was a log laying straight and silent under the same ancient red gum. But he knew from its maroon and gold colouring that this was not a log, but his sister, still wearing her school uniform.
‘Rachel! Jeezus.’ He ran the final few metres, dropped to his knees. He nudged her shoulder expecting she would rouse and smile, stretch and yawn after a lazy snooze in the grass. But the prophetic blue tinge of her lips told him for certain that this was not to be. ‘Rachel, jeezus. Why?’ Howling like he had as a little kid, he gathered her in his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder, her arm dropping to dangle over his like a rag doll’s. Her face, her entire body, felt cold against his — a certain type of coldness that felt spine-chillingly wrong. He glanced at the scene spread around him. Several scattered blister packs. A plastic water bottle lying idly on its side with its contents drained. A slip of paper enclosed in her tight fist. ‘What the fuck have you done, Rachel?’ he sobbed, pulling her closer, now prepared to face the reality that after everything, after the constant heartwrenching struggle, he had finally lost his sister. She was gone. He bent slowly to bury his face in the soft skin of her neck. And sobbed, eventually sniffing long and deep before prising open her palm and withdrawing the note. I’m so ashamed. I’m sorry.
Far too calmly, even by his own reckoning, Tim folded the note and slipped it deep into his pocket. One by one, he slowly collected the blister packs and slid them into his pocket as well. And although his mind had all but shut down, he knew instinctively that he had to get her home to where it was warm. He bent and lifted her — as frail as a bird in his arms.
As he stood easily with the weight of her, she groaned. It was barely audible, but he knew without doubt that she had groaned. The fire reignited inside him and he ran faster than he had ever run before. Gathering his thoughts he stopped as suddenly as he had started. Balancing her in his arms he pulled his jacket off. Wrapped it around her as best he could. ‘Think, Tim, think,’ he muttered, pulling his phone from his pocket and pressing dial.
‘Mum. I’ve found her. She’s fucking almost dead. Call an ambulance,’ he shouted, shoving the phone back into his pocket and hoping through desperate gasps, as his feet gathered momentum once more, that his mother had understood what was happening. ‘Jeezus, Rachel … jeezus Rachel …’ he said over and over like a mantra for the demented, his footsteps pounding in his ears as he struggled with her up the hill then scrambled down again, pebbles rolling under his feet like marbles.
It took all his energy to move, to maintain his hold on Rachel, who despite her frailty now felt like a boulder in his arms. So it was as though the heavens had opened up when Garry ran like fury towards him, police paraphernalia hanging from his thick belt, tinkling and slapping against his thighs as he approached Tim with his arms extended like an angel in black.
‘Here, Tim. Give her to me,’ he gasped taking her from Tim like a baton as they both maintained pace, the distant wail of sirens streaming through the air like yet another gift from heaven.
By the time they had reached Monnie’s yard the ambulance was waiting near the double gate, red and scarlet bouncing off its pale roof and across trees, the white-sheeted gurney standing to attention at its rear. Jack ran to meet them.
‘Put her on the gurney, Garry mate,’ Jack said, lifting Rachel’s eyelids and waving a penlight across her eyes as Garry lowered her onto the white sheet. Tim paced and watched Jack’s partner tapping his prone sister’s hand as Jack hooked her up to some sort of oxygen contraption. He had not even noticed his parents were there until his mother spoke.
‘Rachel … what in Joseph’s name has happened?’ she wailed, scrambling to place her arms around her daughter. But Peter held his arm across Annie’s chest. ‘Leave ’em be, Annie,’ he muttered.
‘What happened?’ Jack asked, turning Tim’s dazed attention away from his colleague who was now encasing Rachel in a foil sheet.
‘I found her down near Monnie’s grave — the same spot we’d found Monnie.’ He dug into his pockets. ‘These were all round her. There was an empty water bottle as well, but I couldn’t carry that.’
Annie gasped. Peter seized her arm again and stood fast.
Jack took a deep breath as though for strength, or hope or inspiration or all three. ‘Diazepam,’ he said, shuffling through the empty bubble packs and squinting to read the print. ‘Paracetamol as well.’ He shook his head for the second time. ‘I’m requesting a chopper. It’ll be quicker.’ He took large strides to the front of the ambulance. Only half-listening to Jack’s urgent, indecipherable words with the local hospital, Tim checked the pocket of his jeans and found that Rachel’s note was still there. In time he would look back on this moment and wonder what had compelled him to leave it there, rather than hand it over.
Annie broke free of Peter’s grasp then and rushed to Rachel, putting her hands either side of her daughter’s head, the only part of her body exposed under the silver insulation wrap. Smoothing Rachel’s hair and dipping every now and then to kiss her forehead or cheek, she muttered and cried indecipherable words while Peter and Ben watched helplessly.
‘It’s not good is it, Jack?’ Tim whispered as Jack returned from calling the medivac flight. They watched Jack’s partner slide a needle into the back of Rachel’s hand.
‘We can’t give up, mate. She’s taken a bit of stuff. But she’s still with us. That’s a good sign,’ Jack whispered back.
Fifteen intensely stressful minutes later, Jack pointed to the sky. ‘Here’s the chopper,’ he said causing Tim and others to gasp with relief at the distant thumping behind the clouds. And five minutes after that the roaring red and white craft waved its tail a few times before touching down in the paddock as deftly as a giant eagle, whipping up leaves and twigs all round. Seconds later the door slid open and the faceless helmeted pilot ran towards them, meeting them halfway and calmly pushing the gurney to the aircraft where the paramedic, also wearing a helmet, slid open a back door to load Rachel into the helicopter’s empty cavern.
‘Anyone coming with her?’ the paramedic yelled above the rotors’ roars.
‘Me. I’m coming,’ Annie screamed, giving her elbow to the paramedic who helped push her into the chopper. ‘Tim, pack Rachel some undies and nightwear, love. I’ll see you at the hospital.’ She crouched and finally landed on a tiny seat at Rachel’s side. The paramedic climbed in after her and the pilot slid the door closed. Seconds later the ’copter roared to fever pitch, its potent headlamps cutting a wide swathe in the now blackened skies as it carried his little sister away.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Her clock radio glowed 7.30am when Lauren Quayle’s call woke her.
‘You start work early,’ Mia croaked into the phone.
Lauren chuckled. ‘I have a seven year old son. I’m awake with the birds. But I’m returning your call before I leave for work, in case I need to visit the Hoopers again. They live closer to my home than my office,’ she added, by way of explanation.
Mia liked Lauren’s easy manner, especially since this was the first time they had spoken. ‘You said, again? Have you visited them recently?’ she asked pulling herself upright in her bed.
‘I visited the day before yesterday,’ Lauren said.
‘I saw Rachel on the beach yesterday. She looked even weaker than she had when she was admitted to my care a few weeks ago. I’m certain she’s undernourished.’
‘Exactly. I’m worried about her mental state as well. Her parents appear caring enough, but they don’t seem to realise the seriousness of her condition. The good news is she’s finally seeing a doctor — Dr Shepherd, her local GP.’
Mia sighed. ‘That’s such a relief. I’ve met Clive Shepherd a couple of times. I’ll give him a ring. Did Rachel speak about what happened at the party by any chance?’
‘No. S
he’s continuing to deny anything happened at the party or at home. But I have my doubts. Hopefully Dr Shepherd will give us more information.’
After they had both agreed to stay in touch and had terminated the call, Mia padded in pyjamas and bare feet down the passage to the kitchen. She flicked the coffee machine on and dialled Clive Shepherd’s number expecting to leave a message, but speaking instead to someone she assumed was his wife.
‘Anthea Shepherd.’
‘Good morning, Anthea. This is Mia Sandhurst from the Children’s Hospital. I wonder if it would be possible to speak with Clive, please. I’m phoning about Rachel Hooper.’
Mia pictured the woman clicking her heels together in a salute, purely because of the sudden change in her tone. ‘Yes, of course, Mia. He’s been waiting for your call. Just a moment, please. Clive … it’s that call from the Children’s you’ve been waiting for …’ Mia heard the echo of footfall and a muffled conversation.
Immediately puzzled, Mia awaited the sound of Clive Shepherd’s voice, hoping he would clarify his wife’s curious response to her call.
‘Clive Shepherd here. How is Rachel?’ he said anxiously.
‘I think there’s been a miscommunication. I’m ringing about Rachel’s appointment with you this afternoon,’ she spluttered.
‘Who is this?’ he snapped.
‘It’s Mia Sandhurst, Clive. I’m in Emergency at the Children’s, but I spend a bit of time here on the Peninsula. We’ve met professionally, but you may not remember me. I was on duty the night Rachel was admitted a few weeks ago and I’m ringing now because Lauren Quayle said you were examining her this afternoon.’
‘Yes. That was the plan. Until late last night when your hospital rang for her records after she had been airlifted with acute diazepam and paracetamol toxicity. I thought you were ringing to provide an update.’
‘How much did she ingest?’ Mia asked dropping down into the nearest chair, her stomach sinking.
‘They did not have a clear idea about the dosage when they rang, but said she was in a bad way. I’m very sorry I didn’t make time to see her earlier. I can’t help thinking an extra 24 hours would have made all the difference.’
‘So, it was a deliberate overdose?’ Mia said wondering about her own responsibility and questioning why she had not acted earlier.
‘Oh, yes. I have never prescribed antidepressants to Rachel. But I know they’re easy enough to get on the streets. It’s just that … well, my wife grew up on the Peninsula and told me some disturbing information about Peter Hooper’s family history. I had intended to keep it in mind during my examination, but of course … I shall now have to rethink that strategy, given the examination may never happen,’ he said his voice fading a little.
‘But it sounds like really important information Clive. You should definitely pass it on — if you will forgive me for saying.’
‘It seems to be vital information, I agree. But I am hesitant to formalise what is basically folklore. Nevertheless, I think it warrants a call to that social worker … what’s her name? Oh yes, here it is. Lauren Quayle.’
Mia listened to Clive’s cathartic confession as to why had had not made an earlier appointment for Rachel, but no further information was forthcoming to satisfy her now-burning curiosity about Peter Hooper’s family background. She eventually gave up, her anxiety over Rachel’s critical condition engulfing her as a primary concern. Eventually, she politely terminated the conversation with the good doctor.
Mia took a few deep breaths to calm her thoughts as she made coffee. But her caffeine fix had a less than satisfactory impact on her churning gut as she brought up the number and dialled Maggie Malloy, who answered on the first ring.
‘I was about to call you …’ Maggie said.
‘I’ve just heard about Rachel. How is she?’
‘She’s still unconscious, but better than originally thought. It seems hypothermia was more the problem than what she took. Your colleagues in Emergency are yet to determine the degree of threat posed to her liver through the paracetamol she took. Cerise and I are planning how we could conduct that medical we tried to do last time that she was with us. It seems sensible to seize the moment, given it’s now beyond doubt there is something seriously wrong.’
‘Her local GP, Clive Shepherd, has just told me he’s heard disturbing news about Peter Hooper’s family background.’
‘What news is that?’
‘I tried to wrangle it from him but it seemed churlish to be too direct, especially given she’s not my patient. But it seems reasonable for you to give him a ring.’
‘Mm. I’ll do it immediately. Where are you?’ she asked.
‘On the Peninsula.’
‘You don’t want to be there, do you? You want to be here. I can tell.’
‘Yes.’
Maggie’s tone was insistent. ‘We will need to interview her if the medical comes up with anything. It’d be great if you could be here to support her. She knows you.’
Mia thumped along the passage to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later she had showered, pulled on boots, jeans and a red fine-knit top, grabbed up her bag and her denim jacket and was on her way to the city.
Her tyres squealed into the doctors’ parking bay outside Emergency an hour later. She jumped from her car and tore through the double glass doors, attracting ghoulish curiosity from a group of hospital visitors gathered on the lawns. Once inside the hospital she forced herself to move slowly and, while heading to triage for the admission register, glanced around in search of Rachel.
‘She’s gone up to the fifth floor for an ultrasound,’ Chester murmured over her shoulder as she studied the screen at the triage desk. ‘About 30 minutes ago.’
‘How is she?’ Mia asked.
‘Still unconscious, but her signs are improved. The biggest concern now is the degree of damage done by the paracetamol. It’s a bit early to tell.’
‘Okay,’ Mia said, suddenly feeling as though she had overreacted, that she was now superfluous to need. ‘Um, I’ll wander down to the staffroom. Will you ring me when Rachel returns, please? Maggie has asked that I sit in if and when they interview her.’
The staffroom smelled of coffee and porridge. Mia sat in her favourite armchair overlooking the parklands and sipped a cappuccino, reliving Rachel’s appearance when they had met at Broken Bay and thinking back further, berating herself for not having been more decisive in the earlier stages of this mess. She thought about Adam. Wondered if his apparent self-sufficiency was merely a mask of bravado, or whether he really was as independent and as resilient as he led her to believe. Suddenly she needed to hear his voice.
‘Hi, Mum’ he answered. ‘How are you? I’ve been worried about you.’
‘Don’t be. I’m fine. Have you heard from your dad?’
‘Yes. He’s sending me photos. Of him and Lucinda. They’re on holidays in the Bahamas.’
How romantic. I hope she’s picking up the tab. ‘I’m glad. It’s important you have him in your life.’
‘Yeah. Well, it’s not like having Dad in my life at all. He’s more of a stranger to me. I’m just concentrating on my exams and not thinking about him too much. What have you been doing?’
‘I’m at the beach again. I’ve taken a few days off.’
Her concerns about Adam had abated during their 10 minute conversation. She dropped her phone into her bag and swallowed the last mouthful of her coffee. Her phone rang again seconds later from inside her bag. ‘Mia Sandhurst,’ she answered, hurriedly retrieving it.
‘Hello, Mia,’ Debra Illingworth chimed loudly. ‘I have news. Funds do indeed seem to have disappeared — or at least, cannot be accounted for. About 300,000 dollars, give or take a couple of hundred.’
A chill crept over her — like every drop of blood had drained from her body in that very second. ‘Oh my god. I can’t believe it.’
‘You’d better believe it, Mia. I’m sorry to be blunt, but there’s more to come. We have also uncove
red a sneaky payment of over 200k to Tiffany’s Jeweller in London — for a diamond engagement ring, no less.’
Mia slumped back into her chair. ‘Well … I … I’m a bit numb. When did he visit London?’ she asked rhetorically.
‘It’s perfectly understandable that you’re shocked, my dear. Anyway, we should freeze any joint accounts. You need to have a new account in your name only for your salary and other payments due to you from now on. And you need to decide if you want to file for divorce. If the answer is yes, we can consider the missing funds during settlement.’
‘I don’t know what to say. Um, I’ll definitely contact the bank today. And I’ll think about the divorce.’ The picture of Eric and Lucinda cooing over engagement rings flashed into her mind followed by the vision of her own diamond, not much bigger than a pinhead. Eric had stooped to the lowest of the low in robbing her of their savings so he could buy his millionaire girlfriend an engagement ring befitting her status. ‘No, I’ve made up my mind after all. I want to file for divorce,’ she said.
Mia slipped her phone back into her bag and decided she needed a second coffee. Hell no, she needed a brandy. She searched the cupboards for any remnants of the last staff party, but was forced to be content with coffee after all. She had just dropped down into the comfy lounge chair, soaking up the sight of the cloudless blue-grey sky, the emerald green of the parklands, hammering herself into a fit state of mind to contact the bank, when her phone rang yet again.
‘Mia, it’s Maggie. We found definite evidence of sexual violence. The most serious injuries are not new, but there are small contusions and fine abrasions at the opening of her vagina that are only days old. We’ve swabbed for DNA, but it doesn’t seem hopeful we will find anything. Despite the medical we are back to where we started, unless of course, Rachel decides to tell us what on Earth is going on.’
‘What did Clive Shepherd say?’
‘That was very interesting news indeed. Apparently Peter’s mother committed suicide after her second husband left her with four children, Peter being the youngest. After the mother died, Community Welfare tracked Peter’s father down and dragged him back to the farm look after the four children. The irony is that a year or so later the eldest daughter, Peter’s stepsister, disclosed that her stepfather had been sexually abusing her and her little sister for years — even before he had left their mother. Long story short, Peter’s father served time in gaol, but no one knows what happened to him after he was released, or indeed what has become of Peter’s siblings.’
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