by Andrea Drew
She blew the hair off her face. “I don’t know some weird name ‘Gypsy’ or something. I didn’t stick around to find out how she found us.” She took a breath. “We need money for food?” Her voice quieted a little and she looked down.
Jack wrenched the wad of notes from the pocket of his faded, ripped jeans. “Here. I’ll be back, once I sort this nosy bitch out.” He ripped away the business card dangling from her hand and shoved it into his pocket. “Lay low. Don’t go out.”
Jack stomped back out through the front door and headed back to the car. He’d need to make contact with the boss to get authorization for this one, if he wanted to shut the skank up for good.
***
I found Gypsy at the corner of Chatham Way and Grant Street. I stopped and grabbed her elbow, attempting to control my breathing.
“You’re okay.” She stared at me with those gorgeous eyes, flecked with blue green ocean, and I wondered again about what might have happened.
Her cheeks flushed in the cold air and she sounded a little out of breath. “Of course I’m okay. Let’s get out of here; we can talk in the car.” She stepped forward quickly and without a backward glance, turning the corner, while I stepped slowly away from her, heading for the white car parked on the court, temporarily empty.
I grappled for the phone and swiped it, setting up the camera phone. I needed to take a shot of the car registration. With an electronic click, I checked the picture and shoved the phone away. Gypsy had followed to find out what I was doing.
“What are you doing? Were you taking pictures?” I recognized the change in pitch.
“You know I was.” I hooked my arm through hers, steering her away from the scene as fast as possible without freaking her out. No matter what, she’d always put herself in danger, to save a life, to help the vulnerable, the forgotten; even when she knew she could possibly pay the ultimate price.
“Guy in the white car just got his rego plate. Why wait in a small street with the windows down? There’s eight homes here total.”
“I didn’t notice him.”
“I know you didn’t. It’s probably nothing, but just in case, I’d like to check it out.”
I’d seen that sly smile and the sideways glance before. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” I tried my best to keep my tone calm, but she saw through me, clear as day.
I gazed at the side of her face, and she refused to turn and look at me. She remained focused ahead, striding back to our car at breakneck pace, the light breeze blowing her hair back.
“I was busy.” She bit out the words with a jagged edged tone “How did you find me?”
She’d turned up the collar of her purple duffle coat, and strands of her long brown hair spilled down her back. Her cheeks, normally bone white, showed tinges of pink.
“I don’t know how, or why, but the visions keep coming. Gypsy type visions. I saw the street, saw you kneeled at the bottom of the driveway talking to the kids, saw the women again, up on the porch.”
She came to a halt, turning to face me. Our car waited a heartbeat away.
“Increasing? By how much? What do you see?” She pursed her lips and searched my face for an answer.
“I’ve had three now. Every time, I’m her, that woman.”
“Why’d you take a photo of that car? What the hell are you not telling me?”
I gently turned her by the elbow and we resumed walking, slower now. “Maybe. I’ll worry once I find out who it is. I don’t think you’d give it a second thought either way, it’s pretty difficult to distract from your mission when everything is on the line.” With a wry smile, she answered.
We’d reached the car and I clicked on the locking remote to open it. I opened the door for her and she swung in.
As I settled into the seat, she blew out a breath.
“If you weren’t worried about it, you wouldn’t have taken a photo. Who’s watching? This woman’s harboring kidnapped kids, and she’s in complete denial.”
I started up the car and indicated right. I’d drive past the house, to see if the joker had decided to hang around or take off, then Ryan could look up the registration details and see exactly who we were dealing with.
***
“Please, come in.”
Kieran indicated the slightly ajar office door with a gentle wave of his hand. The Parsons, referred by Camilla, had made their way to New Beginnings, registered to a shelf company based in Aruba. With his grey, understated suit and slicked back silver hair, he exuded an air of quiet confidence. Who better to assist desperate families than a family law magistrate, experienced in the field?
The woman was dressed conservatively in a brown suit and plain white shirt, but they seemed hastily put together, the shirt becoming untucked. Her thin lips pulled back in a grim line and she’d wrung her hands white. Her husband, leaning forward, interlaced his fingers before he spoke. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and the collar to his shirt pointed skywards on one side. Records had been broken when they dressed that morning.
“We’re devastated by your decision. I wonder if you realise what you’ve done.”
The muscles around Kieran’s eyes tightened and his voice deepened. “I’ve been a member of the court for nearly thirty years Mr. Parsons. I can assure that I appreciate the gravity of my duties and the consequences of my decisions.”
Greg Parsons bowed his head, rubbing his shoes across the thick pile beige carpet, before transferring his gaze to stare vacantly at his wife. Although the chairs were spaced only a foot apart, their chairs were turned away from each other in a fan effect.
“We tried for years to have children. Only a couple that’s been through IVF would fully understand.” Greg paused for a moment to take a breath, shoulders heaving.
Mrs. Parsons sensed a break in the conversation, wiped her palms on her skirt, and carried on where her ex-husband left off. “When we found out we were pregnant with Lily, we knew it was a miracle. Finally, a little girl, the girl we’d dreamed of for so long, was growing, a part of our family. Because of my age, staff recommended genetic testing, but we were on cloud nine and didn’t want to burst our bubble. We’d been through so much: hormone injections, planning our daily life around ovulation and hospital visits that, well…We just wanted to focus on her, on the future.”
Greg cleared his throat. “I knew she had Trisomy 21 as soon as her saw her. I checked her tiny fingers and toes. She was perfect.”
The heavy silence filled the room.
“She’s a fighter, our Lily. They told us within hours she’d have ongoing problems: compromised immune system, leukemia, diabetes and congenital heart disease. She’s been so positive, losing her hair, heart surgery, and she’s only five years old…she’s amazing” Greg’s voice cracked and he turned his face, fixing his gaze on a large certificate hanging slightly lopsided on the right hand wall.
“I see.” Kieran shifted the papers on his desk.
Mrs. Parsons clutched at her purse so tightly her knuckles whitened. “I know you probably think we’re selfish, wanting access to those eggs so we could have another child. But another child, a brother or a sister, could save her. It would change everything for us.
“Since the chemo last year, Lily contracted glomerular disease. Her kidneys are failing.” Greg’s eyes seemed overly bright, and he bit down on his lower lip. “So you see it’s a matter of life or death now, not a luxury or a personal preference. She’ll need a kidney within the next year. She was a trooper, and the heart surgery went well, but we’re buying time, nothing more.” She bit her nails. Kieran noticed that the quicks of her nails were bleeding.
“You’re on the donor registry of course?”
“That was one of the first things we did, but because of her Trisomy, she’s further down the list. We can’t lose our little girl, not now, not after everything we’ve been through”
They knew of couples that had been through the hell they had. When friends tell you these things either bring you closer
together or tear you apart, they’d both nodded in agreement. Living it, however, proved entirely different. At first they barely noticed the usual niggles. But as the months progressed, the lack of sleep combined with the stress of working full time, and caring for their daughter with the frequent hospital stays, and the niggles became full-blown recurrent verbal wars. They’d grown further apart with each battle.
Kieran’s plastic smile slipped from his face, his tone forced. “We have a number of children in foster care, many of them from overseas due to untenable family situations. As I’m sure you understand, there are no guarantees, but I will make some immediate enquiries. The Downs Syndrome does complicate matters. I see, however, that your daughter has a rather rare blood type. I can’t confirm this young girl’s blood type; however I suspect she shares it with your daughter. A team member will locate her file fairly swiftly.”
“Really?” Greg shuffled forward to the edge of his seat.
“As I said, Mr. Parsons, there are no guarantees, but I’ll make some enquiries. You’re aware of our fees?” Kieran Walkley leaned forward, smoothing his tie which fell onto the desk.
Greg and Wendy exchanged looks. They’d discussed it, as best they could under the circumstances. In the end, Wendy had agreed that if it saved their daughter's life, she’d consider refinancing the family home which she’d kept as part of the settlement.
At first she’d balked, the fees for a private adoption agency being almost equivalent to the cost of a year’s worth of IVF. Greg screamed repeatedly, what price did they put on Lily’s life? She knew she shouldn’t have argued the point in the first place, but after her marriage crumbled, she knew that losing a daughter and her home at the same time would mean the end of a life she’d worked for decades to build.
So she’d agreed begrudgingly and here they were. Where the hellish journey took them from here, she didn’t want to imagine. She no longer had the energy.
***
Chapter 3
Ryan responded to his text message in less than a minute.
“Hey, Connor. How’s it all going?”
“Don’t know yet, maybe something, maybe nothing. Run some plates for me, and I’ll take it from there.”
“Maybe nothing?”
“Yeah, that’s why I called. White Falcon, late 90s, ULM 159.”
“What are you thinking?” Ryan sounded casual, unconcerned. Connor knew his future son-in-law well enough to know his mannerisms and the ripples beneath the surface didn’t always tally.
“I’m thinking until I hear back from you I probably shouldn’t go outside and find out who’s parked outside my place in a white Falcon.”
A beat, no more than ten seconds.
“Give me a minute, two max.” Ryan hung up.
Gypsy, previously reclined on a chair in the lounge room, sat up straight. “Did I hear you say something about a white Falcon parked outside? Are you kidding−?”
“It’s okay, it’s under control.” He put a hand up as she headed for him. Inches away from him, her eyes wide open; he grabbed her in his arms. Although muffled by his right shoulder, he could still decipher her protests.
She pushed away from him, gently. “You always say that. Who’s out there?”
“You need to let me find out.”
Eyebrows wiggling and arms crossed, she seemed to consider it for a split second.
“Seriously, we don’t know who this is, or what kind of record he has. You want to go back there without knowing? If it’s someone related to this Kelly character, you want him to follow you? Hurt you? I sure as hell don’t.”
His phone buzzed. “Hang on…” Connor swiped it, lifting the phone to his ear.
“What you got?”
“One conviction in 2014. Assault and battery after violating an apprehended violence order. Smashed his girlfriend up pretty bad. Good behavior for twenty-four months. Jack Regan’s been a naughty boy.”
“Hmm, okay. Got a name for the girlfriend?”
“Brenda Rohan. 28. Lives in Balwyn now.”
“Thanks. Might have a friendly chat with Mr. Regan about his immediate plans.”
“Easy, mate. Bring him in; we can ruffle his feathers later at the station. Why’s he making social calls to your place anyway?”
“Don’t know, but I’m about to find out.”
***
When Tony Vallis completed his specialization in psychiatry in 1991, he never imagined he’d end up twenty-five years later as medical specialist at a colleague’s adoption factory, importing children from underdeveloped countries.
He remembered his ailing mother’s tears of pride the day he graduated. As the first child in the family to commence and actually complete the six years of grueling study and internship, surviving the political minefields and workplace pressure to actually make it, he’d basked in the glory of being the golden child, the hope for the family. So of course he’d needed to tell a few white lies to protect his mother.
Mrs. Vallis hadn’t understood either of the articles in the newspaper fourteen months ago. He’d explained that the woman was cheap, a tart, a nasty ‘kariola.’
“But why she do this? Why complain to these men?”
“We broke up.”
“Broke up? You girlfriend? Why break up?”
“Not good woman. She likes too many men. Angry now. So she lied.”
Mrs. Vallis pushed her aching bones up from the chair, shaking her head as she did so.
“I no understand why you like these girls. You need nice Greek woman. Your cousin Toula has friend…”
“I told you, Ma, I’m not interested. I work a lot.”
Mrs. Vallis tutted quietly “I know, I know. You tell these men. They listen to you. You good doctor, help a lot of people for long time. They know.”
But sitting before the registration board, as the sweat gathered on his upper lip and pooled beneath his armpits, Tony realized they didn’t know and wouldn’t listen.
They’d suspended him, bastards, de-registered for twelve months, with the possibility of review in the future. Casting his eyes across the suits wearing their stone masks, he’d resolved there and then to never go back.
He didn’t need them. He’d show them that his technical expertise would be best used where it was fully appreciated.
Sean, a friend from his college days, had opened a clinic. Despite the signs masquerading as a 24-hour family friendly clinic, word had spread amongst the more desperate that terminations could be had and so the market for word of mouth referrals opened up amongst local women.
Plus he could finally allow his specialty interest in fetuses’ full flight, as Sean had arranged for him to assist with disposing of the “human tissue.” Ask no questions, tell no lies.
When Kieran Walkley had approached him six months ago and demanded his assistance, his reluctance must have been obvious. Tony liked what he did, enjoyed the luxury of indulging his interests, and didn’t want to move.
Kieran had, however, hinted at not only a great deal more money, but the option to continue his interests. While he planned to run an adoption agency, with ‘importers’ bringing the children in from poorer countries and offering them a home, he also mentioned organ donation and the surgical aspect. When he’d asked how the organ donation worked exactly, Kieran hadn’t really answered the question.
Instead he’d taken the money and asked the questions later of the receptionist, Camilla, a parole officer he suspected was Kieran’s mistress. Her answers were vague. He’d found out for himself much later.
Tony barely batted an eye when Kieran elaborated on the particular aspects of the projects. For nineteen grand per project, he wasn’t worried. He’d set up enough of a nest egg now that if he needed to, he could fly overseas, and fast.
After a few weeks off, Kieran had called him last week.
“Tony.”
“Yes.”
“We’ve got a project coming up.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,
Jack’s just accessing the file. Should be anywhere between a few days to a week. We’re just assessing the viability of the donor. Once I talk to the family, we’ll get started, probably twenty-four hours after payment.”
“Okay. So when are you thinking then?”
“Next Wednesday, possibly Thursday.”
“Same time?”
“Yes. Must go. I’ll confirm closer to project start.”
Another project, his third in six months. A surge of excitement ran through him. He’d pack a bag; Kieran didn’t call him with maybes. This new one would be go in a matter of days.
***
The window was open and an olive arm, thick with spider leg hair, was propped upon it.
Connor slowly walked up to stand beside it, arms crossed.
“Can I help you?”
He figured he’d play nice initially and see where it went.
“Yeah, you can help me. I’m wondering why you’ve been parked outside my home for the last twenty minutes.” Connor clenched his jaw.
Jack lowered his brow and sucked in his cheeks. “Sitting in my car illegal then, is it?”
“No, not illegal. Bit suspicious, though, when an ex-con on a good behavior bond sits outside the home of a homicide detective, don’t you think?”
Jack stared at the windscreen. He licked his lips. “I didn’t know you were a fucking detective. Just waiting for a friend.”
Connors nostrils flared. “Oh yeah? Who might that friend be? I know you’re friends with Kelly over in Chatham Way. Single mothers your thing then?”
Jack paused for a moment. “That’s none of your damn business.” His sharp-edged tone told Connor he’d hit a nerve. Time to push more firmly. He leaned in closer to the open window.
“Just for the record, if you’re up to what I think you are, I’ll find out about it. And if you’re thinking of keeping an eye on my girlfriend Gypsy, think again. Rub me up the wrong way, and I might get unfriendly. Just so we understand each other.” He dropped his business card onto Jack’s lap and exhaled slowly as he walked inside.