Things We Cannot See

by Dianne Maguire

  Laura caught her reflection in the window and corrected her deep frown. ‘Are you worried about his sharps container? Because—’

  ‘I’ve already investigated that and found the needles for injecting insulin are significantly finer than that left at the scene. But he is adept with needles and that’s something I cannot ignore. Besides, no one else is emerging as a suspect.’

  ‘What about the guy who works in the store with Alex? The med student, Isaac Harrison? He would have access to syringes as well,’ Laura said.

  ‘Yes. But according to the files you’ve discounted him as a suspect even though he has no alibi.’ Noah’s keyboard clacked in the background.

  ‘He has an alibi. His flatmate said Isaac was home at the time Alex was attacked.’

  Impressed as always by the lush gardens surrounding the grand stone mansion fronting onto the car park, Laura pulled into the visitor’s space at King’s College and cut the motor. She rifled in her bag, eventually finding her lipstick, which she applied in the visor mirror, physically grimacing at the way her regrowth was taking over, rankled by the thought Simon’s impending visit was robbing her of the opportunity to visit the hairdresser. She flipped the visor back into position as the home bell sounded, and watched a trickle of students turn into a beige and navy army flooding from the doors of surrounding buildings, some wandering across the lawns at no speed, others charging towards the front gates.

  She and Alex spotted each other at the same time, and Alex turned to a girl with a bounteous mass of red curls partially caught at the nape of her neck. The girl watched as Alex ran to the car and opened the door as though climbing into an unmarked police vehicle was something she did every day. Alex tossed her backpack into the rear and Laura felt relieved to see her in such good spirits, apparently unfazed by the attention they were creating among other students and their parents who ogled and whispered.

  ‘Hi,’ she said dropping into the passenger seat, slightly out of breath.

  ‘Is that your friend Maddi?’ Laura asked, starting the motor.

  ‘Yeah, that’s her.’ Alex clicked her seatbelt in place. ‘Have you caught the guy yet?’ she added as Laura cruised slowly through the car park. ‘Greg is driving Mum and me mental, complaining every five minutes about how our life has been ruined.’

  ‘Sorry, Alex,’ Laura said, shaking her head. ‘I know the pressure this is causing you and your family, and we are working really hard to get some resolution for you. There has been some progress though,’ she added, guiltily aware of Alex’s suddenly hopeful expression. ‘Your final medical report has come through. I’m interested to know what you think.’ She glanced at Alex’s frown as she pulled out of the car park into the traffic. ‘The report said your hymen is ruptured. Do you know what a hymen is?’

  ‘Of course. It’s a membrane that means a girl is a virgin. But it can break if you use tampons or through sport as well,’ she said staring down at her lap and picking fragments of lint from her skirt.

  ‘Alex? What do you think about that report?’ Laura said.

  ‘I don’t think anything.’

  ‘There’s nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. I’m only concerned that someone has taken advantage of you, or has forced you to have sex against your will.’ She turned right and slowed to pass the grocery store. ‘Have you gone back to your job at the store?’

  Alex shook her head.

  ‘What do Greg and your mother think about you working there after what happened?’ Laura was keen to know how the family, in particular Alex, were coping with the aftermath of her attack. Keeping life as normal as possible was important.

  ‘They want me to go back. But Mum or Greg will pick me up from now on,’ Alex said without looking at her.

  ‘Is that OK with you?’ Laura asked.

  Alex nodded. ‘I don’t want to walk home alone again, even in daylight.’ Again Alex fell silent. Picked at her skirt. ‘It was with a boy in my class . . . the sex, I mean,’ she said, briefly glancing at Laura.

  ‘Did he force you?’

  Alex shook her head.

  How old is he?’ Laura said as she slowed and turned the car into Alex’s street.

  ‘The same age as me – sixteen. We were at a party. I didn’t like it, and I don’t like him anymore, so it won’t be happening again. I’d rather do it with someone I really care about.’

  ‘Be sure to talk to your mum or your doctor about contraception and STDs first, won’t you?’ Laura said, her smile fading as she considered whether Alex’s attack could have been motivated by rejection. ‘This boy . . . has he tried to have sex with you again?’

  ‘No. He’s moved on to Shelly Taylor. Easy as. He couldn’t care less about me any more.’

  ‘What’s his name?’ Laura said, pulling into the kerb opposite Alex’s stucco house and cutting the motor.

  Alex hesitated. ‘Will he get into trouble?’

  Laura shook her head.

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘I can’t promise anything, Alex.’

  Alex turned to stare out the side window. ‘His name is Colby Pallins.’

  ‘Uh huh. Is it possible that Colby attacked you?’

  Alex shook her head. ‘No, the guy who attacked me was too tall.’ Her eyes widened, glossed with tears. Her hands flew to her face, and just as suddenly dropped again. It seemed to Laura that a stranger was staring back at her through Alex’s eyes. ‘I saw him. Just then. Like a flash,’ she groaned, pressing the heel of her hands against her eyes, breaking into sobs. ‘He was walking towards me. Tall . . . and totally dressed in black. He was hideous.’

  ‘What about his face, Alex? Did you see his face?’ Laura said.

  Alex shook her head, her hands covering her eyes, her sobs blocking her words. It was several moments before her weeping abated and her breathing returned to somewhere near normal. Laura handed her a tissue.

  ‘That was totally weird,’ Alex rasped through alarmingly pale lips.

  ‘It was a flashback,’ Laura said. ‘You may have more. If you do, even if it’s over the weekend, you must let me know immediately. OK?’

  A young face, that only moments ago glowed with life, now confronted Laura, stagnant with horror.

  ‘Is there anyone else at home?’ Laura said, glancing across at Alex’s house.

  ‘Mum’s home. Greg will be soon as well,’ Alex muttered, slowly turning to retrieve her backpack from the rear seat.

  ‘Promise me you’ll tell her what just happened,’ Laura said. ‘Don’t keep this stuff to yourself. It’s too hard. I can walk in with you if you want,’ she added, torn between her duty of care to Alex and the teen’s right to be treated like the intelligent being she so obviously was.

  Alex shook her head, climbed from the car and ran down the gravel driveway and through the front door without looking back.

  Laura was halfway to the station when the ringing of her phone sliced through her decision to refer Alex for counselling.

  ‘Hi Mum,’ Tara chirped into the phone as Laura pulled into a loading zone. ‘My trial has been adjourned, so you don’t need to have Seth on the weekend.’

  Laura’s heart sank. ‘Oh. That’s good news.’

  ‘Yes, it’s awesome news. I’m so looking forward to Seth and I having some fun together,’ Tara said.

  ‘I’m sure you and Seth have plenty of fun together,’ Laura said, taken aback by her own condescending tone.

  ‘Yeah, we do, but not as much as I’d like,’ Tara said, her voice fading. ‘What, Seth? OK. But only for a moment . . . Mum, Seth wants to talk to you.’

  Laura smiled at the sound of her grandson’s voice, until it became obvious he was on the verge of tears.

  ‘Hi Lol. My tooth came out last night,’ he said.

  ‘Well, that’s great news, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. But I’ve been really really good and my tooth is still in the glass . . . The tooth fairy didn’t even come,’ he said
, his tone dripping with disappointment.

  ‘Oh Seth, darling. I’m so sorry. She gets very busy and sometimes runs behind with her visits. She’ll definitely come tonight, I promise you,’ Laura said, silently berating Tara, and wondering if the owner of the fine woollen pullover was the distraction.

  ‘Well, I wrote her a note. I’ll read it to you,’ Seth said. ‘Dear tooth fairy. Why did you forget me? You should have taken my tooth. What did I do wrong? Then I drew an arrow at the bottom for her to put her answer.’

  Laura imagined the determined lift of Seth’s dimpled chin. ‘That’s a great note, Seth. I think she’ll write back that you did nothing wrong.’

  ‘Did Mum tell you I’m not coming to your house this weekend?’ Seth said, suddenly on a new trajectory. ‘We’re going to the central market for breakfast and then we’re going ice skating.’

  Laura knew Seth had wanted to go ice skating for months. She pushed back what she knew to be churlish regret that she had not been the one to take him. ‘I’ll miss you this weekend, Seth. But going ice skating with your mum will be very cool,’ she said.

  ‘I know. Is Pops coming to your house this weekend?’

  ‘I’m not sure, darling. But I’ll get him to ring you if he does. OK?’ Laura could hear Tara whispering in the background, pictured her hand hovering over the phone.

  ‘Cool. I have to go now. Here’s Mum. See you, Lol. Love you.’

  ‘Go and change out of your school uniform please, Seth,’ Tara’s voice echoed.

  ‘What happened to the tooth fairy?’ Laura said, surprised by the terseness in her voice.

  ‘Oh, Mum, I feel soooo bad. Things have been crazy. I just forgot. But despite a few spelling glitches, I am very proud of the inquisitorial way he handled it. Anyway, I’ve left him a sizeable guilt payment that he’ll find next time he checks the glass in the bathroom.’

  Laura’s sensibilities overtook her biting urge to ask Tara whether she had seen the owner of the blue pullover again. ‘Be sure to keep Seth’s note. It’s absolutely priceless,’ she said. ‘Simon’s calling in sometime tomorrow. I told Seth I’d arrange for them to speak on the phone. Is that OK?’

  ‘Of course. When is Simon coming around?’

  ‘I’m not sure. And I don’t care,’ Laura said.

  ‘You sound like you mean it.’

  ‘I do.’

  Laura made the flash decision on her way back to the station, pulled over and dialled the number, silent pinpricks of rain beginning on the car’s windscreen.

  ‘Hair Attack.’

  ‘Hi Bev, it’s Laura Nesci. I know this is short notice, but is it possible for you to squeeze me in for a colour and cut tomorrow?’

  ‘Go buy a lottery ticket, Laura my love. You’re on a winning streak. I have just had a cancellation. How does 10 am suit you?’

  ‘That’s great. I’ll see you then.’ She tossed her phone into her bag. When Simon fronted up tomorrow it would likely be to an empty house. And her care factor was zero.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Rain ran down her office window as Laura emailed Noah to tell him Alex’s medical results were likely to have been the result of a single encounter with sixteen-year-old Colby Pallins. Noah had not been at his desk when she had passed on her way in and she knew he’d be anxious for information. She glanced out at a passing patrol car, its sirens fading with distance.

  ‘Coming for a Friday night drink at the Tavern?’ Fiona’s voice chimed, splintering her reverie. ‘Although I must admit, it does look pretty gruesome out there,’ she added, peering through the window, her arms crossed in front of her dark uniform, her loaded belt resting on narrow hips. ‘Perfect quaffing weather.’ She laughed.

  Fiona was the most promising member on her team. Her intelligence, her youth, the inventive ways she made matters easier and better for others, her probing mind – despite being a little circumspect – all made her Laura’s choice as the officer most destined to go far in the force. But Tom refused to see it.

  ‘No. I think I’ll get home before this storm breaks,’ Laura answered, genuinely torn between her need for cheer and a simple lack of energy or enthusiasm for socialising.

  ‘Too late. It’s already broken,’ Fiona said as lightning cut through the dark cloud. ‘Come on, we’re all going,’

  ‘Oh! Okay,’ she relented, switching off her computer.

  ‘Excellent. We’ll see you there,’ Fiona said, beaming back at her as she headed for the door.

  Feeling buoyed by Fiona’s insistent invitation, Laura was about to slip into her jacket when Tom Baker called her name across several bowed heads, summoning her with a flick of his arm from outside his office door. She shrugged into her jacket and grabbed her bag, wondering what he wanted, since she had finally delivered the wretched performance reports to him this morning. Bustling past workstations she knocked on his closed door and entered.

  ‘Sit down, Laura,’ said Tom, eyeing her up and down, and gesturing with a nod towards the seat on the opposite side of his wide timber desk. A wall of bookshelves behind gave him a distinguished air, at odds with his cumbersome build and ruddy complexion. He clasped his hands under his chin, as though to purposely display his special issue, commissioned officers’ cufflinks, and studied her with watery blue eyes.

  ‘I’m going to endorse Kevin Scott’s request to prepare for the sergeant’s exam and I want your support,’ he said through barely moving lips.

  Disappointment and anger stabbed at Laura. ‘I declined Kevin’s request because I don’t believe he’s ready. We’re working on his leadership skills through performance management. Fiona is my nomination for this year.’ She cleared her throat. Straightened her shoulders. ‘To be frank, Tom, I’m disappointed Kevin went over my head, and that you in turn seem to be endorsing his actions.’

  Laura imagined what Kevin would be doing if he had been in the room with them at that very moment. Pictured his supercilious expression as Tom delivered the news, smoothing the sides of his coiffed hair, his discomfort over finding his duplicity was finally out in the open rivalled only by his overbearing need to gloat.

  ‘We need a succession plan in place, Laura. We need new blood and new thinking if we are to remain vibrant,’ Tom said.

  She could not imagine Kevin Scott injecting vibrancy into any team. But on the upside, this seemed an ideal time for Laura to finally open up on a matter that had been on her mind since Simon had left home. ‘I want to study for the senior sergeant exam. Can I take it that you will also support my application?’

  Tom eyes dropped. ‘What makes you want to do that?’

  ‘It’s the next career move for me,’ Laura said, slightly taken aback.

  He shook his head. ‘How old are you, Laura? Sixty, sixty-two?’

  ‘I’m sixty,’ she said, her chin lifting, her gut turning. ‘Why do you ask?’

  He shrugged. ‘I would have thought you’d be thinking about spending more time at home with your husband than taking on additional work responsibilities.’

  Laura could not control the spontaneous arch of her eyebrow. ‘How old are you, Tom?’ she said.

  His gaze hardened. ‘I’m fifty-eight, but I was forty-two when I made senior sergeant, Laura,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest, highly satisfied with his response.

  ‘There’s no mandatory retirement age, is there, Tom? At least not yet, as far as I am aware. I’m struggling to work out where you’re coming from with this.’

  Tom sighed as he would to a persistently disobedient child, dragged his bulk to his feet and rested his knuckles on the desk, his eyes boring into Laura’s, his usually red complexion bleeding to crimson. ‘I need to think about this conversation, Laura. Have a good weekend,’ he said without dropping his gaze.

  She left his office, using every molecule of patience she could muster to close his door softly. Fighting to maintain a calm expression she made her way past workstations towards the elevator, and got
the hell out of there as quickly as she could. And once locked away in her car, she sobbed long and deep at what felt like a knife turning slowing but surely in an already open wound.

  She sniffed into a pile of tissues, natural wisdom warning her that Friday night drinks with her team would be a recipe for loose-lipped disaster, which could result in the end of her career, if indeed that was not already looming on the horizon. She did not want to risk pouring her frustrations into the ears of any of her team members. Besides, she thought as she started the motor of her car, I’m no longer in the mood to have fun.

  Rain seemed to be dissipating as she tore along the expressway, her sights set firmly on arriving home to light the fire and pour a glass of wine. Those who mattered in her life suddenly seemed to be treating her as though she was fast approaching some sort of use-by date. First Tara had been explicit in her view that Laura was on the sexual scrapheap, and Tom had just questioned her future in the force. Even at lunchtime the girl at the supermarket checkout had called her ‘dear’. She sniffed back tears and wondered if these were the same reasons why Simon had so suddenly and mysteriously packed his bags and left.

  The darkened windows of her house glinted in the moonlight as she turned from the esplanade into her driveway, her headlights sweeping across the cream bricks like a search lamp. She unlocked the front door and before she changed, built a fire in the living room, turned on the television for a semblance of a human presence, and then made her way along the timber passage to her bedroom. Casting an eye around its white panelled walls, the latte and white striped bed cover, she wondered how she and Simon would ever manage to split everything they had collected over eight years together.

  Back in the living room, she poured a glass of wine and watched a bad movie. Forced down a slice of toast, despite her appetite having abandoned her, brushed her teeth and crawled into bed. Even with the usually comforting sound of the waves slapping against the sand, it seemed hours passed before she finally drifted into sleep.

  The screeching of gulls forced her to open her eyes to the light of a dull morning. She scuttled out to the family room and tossed another log on the embers, before wrapping herself up in stretch ski pants, a polo neck and her pea jacket, to run through the dunes onto the sand. At first she despaired being alone on the isolated stretch of beach. It was not the distinct absence of another being, or the southerly winds that bit into her and forced her head down as she trudged through the sand, it wasn’t even that every trace of birdlife seemed to have disappeared, it was the startling realisation that soon she may be forced to sell the home she loved, to depart forever from the coastline that fed the very depths of her soul. With a determined intake of breath Laura turned to face the sea, her eyes immediately drawn to a wide patch of silver created on its surface by the sun’s refusal to submit to the smothering attempts of thick grey clouds. Damn you, Tom. Damn you, Simon. Even you, Tara . . . I refuse to let any of you push me down.