Harness looked like he was about to say something, but instead took a step back, putting some distance between them. His face remained unreadable, but she suspected she’d hurt his feelings.
“Where’s Eddie?” Her throat contracted, making it difficult to get the question out.
“He’s in the kitchen. When the doctor gets here, he’s going to take a look and see what he can tell us.”
Maggie nodded and stared at the kitchen door. She didn’t want to think about Eddie lying in there all alone, but found it hard to look away.
“The battery on my phone is nearly dead, is there a phone I can use? I need to call Tess’s mother and let her know what’s happened.” She turned away from the kitchen and tried to focus her mind on what to do next. Harness gestured towards a phone in the main area of the station. She wanted to say something, make him understand why she’d pulled away, but he was already moving across the station, phone pressed to his ear.
****
He watched Dr Cole as he approached the old kitchen table where the tiny form lay draped in a fuzzy blue blanket. Cole put his bag on the table and took out several instruments, placing them next to the blue blanket. Harness noticed the doctor hesitated before unfolding the blanket. The naked bulb above the table cast a harsh yellow light over the dead infant, bringing the scene into jarringly clear focus. Harness flinched and closed his eyes. Molly was older than Eddie when she died, almost three, but the unnatural stillness of a dead child was the same no matter what the age. He leaned back, letting his spine rest against the cold brick wall and opened his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the examination.
The baby was fully clothed in a pale blue onesie with a white collar; on the left, just below the shoulder was a little yellow duck. Cole undid the top clasp and slid his stethoscope inside. After listening for a few seconds, he puffed out a tired breath and removed the disc. He leaned in and examined the neck before pulling the clothing to one side and pressing his finger on the skin of the shoulder. He shone a small penlight into the baby’s lifeless eyes then looked in the mouth and ears. When Cole examined the baby’s hands, Harness noticed the tiny fingers were curled inwards, making it look like Eddie was clutching the doctor’s finger.
The only sounds in the room came from the ticking of the clock over the sink and the doctor’s breathing. Gingerly, Cole turned the small body over. Harness noticed the doctor using one hand to support the head– an unconscious gesture that made Harness’s chest tighten. He clenched his jaw and continued to watch as Cole took the baby’s temperature.
When he was finished, the doctor fastened the clasps on the onesie with a gentle touch.
“Well?” Harness kept his tone neutral.
“Look, Gibson, I’m not a coroner and I don’t want to disturb any evidence by undressing the little fella.”
“I get it.” Harness waved his hand, gesturing for the doctor to continue. “Just tell me what you think.”
“It’s difficult to tell on such a young infant because rigor mortis is not readily perceivable, but judging by temperature, post mortem paleness and lividity, I would say he’s been dead about ninety minutes. I can’t see any signs of violence or trauma.” Cole hesitated.
“Go on.” Harness urged.
Tony Cole, a thin grey-haired man in his early sixties, prided himself on being as fit as a man half his age, but at that moment, his shoulders sagged and every line on his face appeared to be etched into his pale skin.
“I would guess a virus. Something nasty, maybe flu-like. This wasn’t a natural death. There’s blood in his mouth; even without teeth he’s clamped down so hard he’s nearly bit through his tongue, and the blood vessels in his eyes have burst.” He pointed a finger at the lifeless form. “This baby died a sudden and painful death. With no obvious signs of violence, and the build-up of mucus around the nose together with the colour of his mouth and eyes, I would say an aggressive virus.”
****
Maggie dialled the number, not allowing herself to think about what she was about to do. If she did, her nerve would go. The ringing sounded hollow and distant, conjuring an image of Sandra bolting out of bed, frightened, unprepared for the horror that was about to engulf her world. Maggie’s hand shook. She was about to cause Sandra so much grief, but at the same time, she didn’t want the call coming from a stranger.
“Hello?” Sandra sounded sleepy and worried at the same time.
“Sandra, it’s Maggie.”
“Maggie, is—”
“It’s... Something’s happened. Sandra, it’s Eddie.” Maggie paused for a second and drew in a deep breath, wishing she’d slowed down and prepared what she was going to say. Now that the line echoed with silence, she had no choice but to plunge in with the news. “I’m so sorry, but he’s died.” Once the words were out, everything felt flat –real. What was left of Maggie’s strength drained away. She sat down on the nearby office chair and propped her elbow on the table. There was no sound on the line, and for one horrifying moment, Maggie thought they’d been disconnected. Then Sandra spoke.
“No. No, not the baby...” Mandy’s voice, at first anguished and frightened, broke.
“I’m so sorry.” The words seemed empty and meaningless. Maggie heard a muffled sob. She closed her eyes and wished she could stop, but she had more misery to deliver.
“Ollie’s been in an accident. They were driving into town to get help and... And the police are looking for him.” Maggie knew she wasn’t making much sense, but nothing about what had happened made sense.
“Tess?” The word was little more than a whisper. “Is Tess...Is she—”
“She’s okay,” Maggie answered, and then realised that “okay” didn’t begin to describe Tess’s state and quickly added, “she’s safe.”
Sandra let out a shuddering breath. “I’m coming. Tell Tess I’m coming. I’ll be there in a few hours.”
“We’re at the police station. It’s on Sutton Street, near the general store.”
“Okay. I’ll find it.” She paused. “How... I mean what happened to Eddie?”
What happened to Eddie? Maggie wished she had an answer. The same question kept going around and around in her mind. He was a healthy little baby one day and then gone the next.
“We’re not sure. He seemed to be getting sick and then...” Maggie let her voice trail off. What could she say? There were no answers.
“Okay. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
Maggie hung up, grateful that Sandra hadn’t pushed for more. It was close to midnight and what felt like a year since she left home that morning.
An hour ago, Maggie had followed Harness into the unlit building. Small country stations didn’t stay open all night unless there was a major problem. In less than an hour, Harness had marshalled Thorn Tree’s entire police force, which, including Harness, was three men.
Maggie lost herself in the steady rhythm of Constable Mark Leary’s hands reaching for the police radio, clicking the conversation back and forth. He rubbed his pale face, thick fingers working through a shock of red hair still rumpled from sleep. Harness had instructed the younger officer to stay on the radio and answer the phones while sending the town’s only other officer out to Tess’s house in search of Ollie’s car.
Maggie was just about to go back in and sit with Tess when a call came through on the radio.
“Leary? Attwell here. Over.” Senior Constable Jason Attwell’s voice came over the radio with a robotic crackle.
“Attwell, what’s the situation?” Leary asked.
“I think I’ve found the husband. His car is wrapped around a tree on Maple Road near the turnoff to Chapel’s Orchard. He’s alive but in bad shape. I’m going to need a medivac here right away. Over.”
“Roger. Stand by.” Leary pivoted to the phone and began making calls.
Maggie sat near the desk with the phone she’d used, trying to make sense of what was happening. The tragedy kept unfolding, gathering more and more momentum like the
storm that had raged through town the night before. Only now it wasn’t smashed windows and fallen trees but death.
Leary covered the phone with his hand. “Get the sarge.” He snapped his fingers to get her attention.
Before Maggie had time to react, the kitchen door swung open and Harness entered followed by Dr Cole. Leary gave Harness the rundown. Before he had time to finish, the sergeant held up his hand. The young constable stopped and waited.
“How long until the chopper gets to them?”
“About thirty-five minutes. It’s coming from Perth. It’s the only one available.”
Harness turned to Cole. “Doc, can you get out to Maple Road and see what you can do?”
“I can be there in fifteen minutes.” Cole was already heading for the door.
Harness turned to Maggie. “Did you reach the mother?”
“Yes. She’ll be here in a few hours.”
“Good.” He ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Can you stay with Tess until then? I’ve got some calls to make.”
“Yes, of course.” She pushed herself up from the chair. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
“You can make a list. Full names and any phone numbers for Tess, her mother and the husband. Include the husband’s employer if you can. Give the list to Leary.” He paused. “Don’t tell Tess anything about her husband until we know how he’s doing.” Harness turned and picked up the nearest phone. Maggie wanted to ask him what the doctor had said about Eddie, but it was clear he didn’t have time to talk.
****
Maggie hovered at the back of the station house. In an effort to stop herself from staring at the kitchen door, she fixed her gaze on the wall clock and watched the minute hand tick to one fifty-six in the morning. A couple of hours ago things had been moving so fast, it seemed the world was spinning. Now time slowed. When the front door of the station house thumped open, Maggie almost let out a yelp of surprise. Tess’s mother raced into the small waiting area looking tired and dishevelled. A gust of cold night air flooded the room before the door creaked closed.
Harness stepped up to the counter to meet the woman. “I’m Senior Sergeant Gibson. Mrs Michaels, I’m very sorry for your loss.” His tone was gentle and formal at the same time. Maggie guessed he’d had plenty of experience delivering bad news.
Sandra’s back stiffened. “Can you tell me what’s happened? Where’s my daughter?” Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun and she was wearing a rumpled tracksuit. Maggie could only imagine what must have been going through the woman’s mind during the two-hour drive from Perth.
“Your daughter’s in my office resting. We have an officer and the town’s doctor at the accident scene. They’re taking care of your son-in-law. As soon as the medivac team arrives, he’ll be air-lifted to the hospital.”
Sandra nodded and remained quietly composed. She took a deep breath. “And my grandson?”
“I’m looking after Eddie for now.” Harness’s voice was gentle, almost soothing.
When her grandson’s name was mentioned, the lower half of Sandra’s face trembled and her shoulders sagged. Maggie rushed around the counter and took hold of Sandra’s arm, leading her to the nearest seat.
“Sandra, sit a moment.” Maggie could feel the woman trembling.
“No, I need to see Tess.” She sounded breathless, ready to breakdown. Maggie guided her down onto the seat, then pulled up a chair so that she could sit facing Sandra.
Maggie took both of the woman’s hands in hers, noticing the coolness of her skin. “Sandra.” Maggie spoke slowly, keeping her tone clam. “In a minute I’m going to take you in to see Tess. She’s awake but very confused.” Sandra’s eyes were shiny, wide with emotion. “I think she’s in shock. Dr Cole is out helping Ollie, so we need to look after her ourselves.” Maggie stopped and waited for Sandra to respond.
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. It’s all been such a shock. I’m all right. Maggie, I need to see my daughter.”
Maggie nodded and stood up. Still holding Sandra’s hand, she led her into Harness’s office.
Chapter Five
The sound of crying dragged Marley Dicks from a deep sleep. She pulled the pillow out from under her and clamped it over her head. Damn it, the second time in one night. If only the kid would learn to sleep in and shut up, motherhood would be a lot easier. At least the wailing wasn’t as loud as last night. Zoe was nearly eighteen months old with a powerful set of lungs, but today, her cries were softer. Good, maybe she’s finally learning. Marley tried to tune out the sobs and go back to sleep, but it was no good. As usual, the kid managed to ruin any chance she had to catch up on some rest.
“I’m coming.” Marley swung her legs over the side of the bed and scratched her cheek. Her face still stung.
The night came to her in hazy snapshots. A French guy, a backpacker she’d picked up at the pub. He called her chéri, his accent making up for acne-scarred cheeks and ratty goatee. He seemed nice, even holding the door open for her as if Marley’s dump was some kind of palace. He certainly seemed to be into her, clutching her hair and groaning while she gave him head.
She reached down and picked a bit of lint out from between her toes and flicked it across the bedroom, remembering the way the French guy pushed her away when she tried to kiss him, calling her a dirty slut in that snotty accent. Who the hell did he think he was? To make matters worse, when she told him to fuck off, he slapped her. Marley had been so shocked when the look on his scarred face changed from mild disgust to anger, she’d fallen back on her ass. Shocked, unable to do anything but watch open-mouthed as he snatched up her small bag of weed and left, slamming the door behind him.
The crash of the door shook the flimsy fibro-cement walls, setting off a squall of shrieks from Zoe’s room. Still clutching her burning cheek, Marley stomped into her daughter’s room to find the child’s nappy needed changing. She’d cleaned the kid up and put her back in her cot. Zoe clung to Marley as she put her down, the toddler’s sticky fingers clutching at Marley’s hair. All I want is some time to myself. The kid never stops. She pulled the baby loose and thrust her into the cot. Zoe’s face was so red, it looked like she had been scalded. It was all Marley could do not to slap her.
Now the kid was off again. Marley checked the time on the bedside clock, three a.m. If she could get Zoe back to sleep, she might stand a chance of getting a few more hours for herself. Sliding her feet into flip-flops, she shuffled her way to the kitchen and took an unwashed bottle out of the sink. She grabbed the baby paracetamol from the fridge and poured a sizable amount in then added water.
Before she opened the door, Marley screwed her eyes closed and puffed out her cheeks. The constant whimpering set her teeth on edge. It was as if the kid was torturing her. Pushing down her irritation, she opened the door. The baby stood in the cot, snot and dribble covering her nose and mouth. Spotting Marley in the doorway, Zoe stretched out her arms, hands grasping air. Not wanting the kid to latch onto her, Marley handed her the bottle but kept her distance. Zoe grasped the bottle and tucked it into her small mouth, sucking breathlessly on the milky-looking mixture.
I knew the greedy little thing wouldn’t be able to resist. Marley yawned and watched her daughter suck back the liquid as tears streamed down her angry red cheeks. In seconds, the baby settled onto her bottom and began twirling a strand of hair in her chubby fist. Marley nodded, pleased to see the girl was learning to settle herself. Making as little sound as possible, Marley edged out of the room and closed the door.
A snort caught in Marley’s throat, jerking her awake. She rolled her head to the side and checked the time: almost nine a.m. With a sleepy grunt, she tumbled from the bed, pulling sagging track pants up around her sizable hips. On her way down the short hallway, it struck her that the house was unusually quiet. Most mornings the kid was jumping up and down by eight o’clock. By nine, the screams were enough to wake the dead. A patch of sunlight filtered through the kitchen window and fell on her daughte
r’s door. Marley put her hand on the knob and hesitated, the skin on her arms prickled with gooseflesh. The urge to turn and run welled up in her belly like the acid burn of a dodgy kebab. Marley chewed her bottom lip. At nineteen, running seemed like a viable option. A muffled moan, almost as soft as a whisper, came from the other side of the door. Marley screwed up her courage and entered her daughter’s room.
Light shone through the gap in the curtains, landing on the sagging cot. Although she was a little spooked by the quiet, some part of Marley still expected to see Zoe standing up, arms outstretched. The unnatural stillness in the room was almost jarring.
Marley approached the cot, noting the smell: dirty nappy mixed with vomit. Peering into the baby’s bed, Marley’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, fuck.”
Zoe lay on her back, a thick bubbly layer of foam covering her nose and mouth. Her eyes were swollen, as if bruised. “Zoe? Zoe, baby!”
Zoe’s eyes fluttered, but didn’t quite open. Marley ran her hands through her limp sandy hair, trying to decide what to do next. Her small brown eyes darted around the room and came to rest on the empty bottle lying next to the baby. Could you overdose on paracetamol? Ignoring her daughter, Marley snatched up the bottle and rushed out of the house. She opened the bin and pushed the bottle as far down into the rubbish as her hand could reach. Unsure what to do next, Marley scurried back inside to check on Zoe.
Once in the baby’s room, it was clear Zoe was far from all right. Marley searched the room for something to wrap around the child. She rifled through the pile of dirty washing near the door and found one of the baby’s blankets. It smelt of sour milk, but it would do.
“Come on, kiddo.” Marley lifted Zoe out of the cot and onto her shoulder. The child’s limp body draped against her. She shuddered and rubbed Zoe’s back. A spark of motherly concern, maybe the first she’d ever experienced, washed over her and tears sprang into her eyes. What if she dies? Fear and guilt blotted out the concern almost as quickly as it arose. They’ll blame me.
The Stone Flowers Page 4