A Thousand Cuts

by A N Drew

  Sandy Hair extended a hand to the screaming girl I remembered from the basement, and she nervously took it. Swanson followed behind them both, and as she walked to the ambulance, my gut twisted, stabbing shards of glass driving up and into my chest.

  I swallowed, hard.

  This time, the burning tears fell unchecked, as I watched the paramedics help the little girls up and into the vehicle, its engine running and ready to take them to safety, cuddles and a hot bath.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  After the girls were loaded into the ambulance, I high-tailed it out of there. James Wells from SoCIT informed me a female SoCIT officer would stay with the girls in the hospital, where they'd liaise with the Department of Human Services regarding foster care for the children.

  Collen, Garrett and Holmberg, as expected, shook my hand before I left.

  Hicks wanted a debrief but that would come tomorrow after the Special Operations Group had set up surveillance at the property during the proposed 10 a.m. delivery of goods, to see if anyone showed up. I’d talked to Hicks about it, and pushed to go back there the next morning to potentially arrest the sickos myself, but Hicks had called in Special Operations Group (SOG) for the potential arrest.

  "We're off to Ed's place for a drink. We've got a cold one with your name on it.” Holmberg leaned on one of his hips.

  “No thanks mate, might head off.”

  I watched the back of Ed's navy-blue wind jacket as he walked away down the driveway deep in thought, most likely headed for his car.

  I needed some space. I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked up at the clear sky, stars sprinkled across the sky. I stared up at the stars, locating the Southern Cross constellation, and immediately felt small and insignificant.

  With a sigh, I walked down the driveway and along the street, relief washing over me. The girls were safe now.

  I'd taken about ten steps when a car pulled up beside me. Lifting my head, I saw Ed's car. The window whirred as it went down, and I bent at the knees, to see his scraggy face at the wheel.

  "Get in.”

  "Thanks mate, but I need a walk."

  "To where? Your car isn’t here. Get in, mate, it's okay.” He sounded calm and quiet. I opened the door and got in. Ed flicked on the car’s indicator and slowly accelerated. Hunters and Collectors’ Throw Your Arms Around Me played on the stereo.

  I missed Abbie and my kids. I ached for a hug from my wife.

  Ed's navy-blue car cruised along the street, where neglected houses and lawns stood silently in the darkness. He turned right at the corner. I sat in silence, letting the inky night surround me. It felt good to feel small and unimportant in the grand scheme of things. These stars weren't going anywhere.

  Thirst burned my throat.

  "Riley's Hotel on Footscray Road?” Ed tilted his chin.

  "You read my mind.” I hadn't really planned my destination, but it was a minute or two away. From there, I could either crash at the hotel or get a taxi to my lonely home.

  The hotel it was.

  We'd reached Rivetts Road, shops and restaurants dotted along it. We pulled up at a red light, and two druggies crossed the road, dark circles under their eyes, one of them with purple hair, and the other with more piercings than a voodoo doll.

  "We saved the lives of innocent girls tonight." Ed turned to look at me, hands still on the wheel.

  "Maybe, but I can't forget a serial killer is out there somewhere. A kid killer.” I rubbed my upper lip with my right forefinger.

  "It's only a matter of time, mate, we both know that." Ed hit the gas and we took off slowly. At this hour, there were only a few people around. As he turned right onto Footscray Road, people walked up and down, and more lights were on, mainly in Asian restaurants and hotels, large and small.

  Ed pulled up in front of a laneway. The lights for Riley's Hotel were about fifty metres away, and I watched as a couple of blokes walked in.

  "Thanks.” I opened the passenger door. Ed dropped his left hand on my shoulder.

  "Take care. We're all in this."

  "Yeah.” I closed the car door and headed for the entrance.

  Surprisingly, the public bar next door wasn't that busy, but then it was Tuesday night.

  Surprisingly, Rae Swanson appeared at the black leather bar stool to my right, sliding her rump silently beside me.

  Joe the barman finished pouring a beer and headed over.

  After Swanson had ordered her drink, and taken her first sip, I broke the silence.

  "It's a special occasion. I'm drinking in a bar.”

  I didn't turn to face her. From the corner of my eye, I saw her take a couple of long swigs.

  She put the empty glass down on the countertop. "I didn't sign up for this shit. That girl..."

  I rested my elbows on the bar and took another sip of Johnny Walker. "Yeah."

  She leaned her left elbow on the shiny dark wood. "I need a shower,” she said, sniffing at her clothes.

  "God knows where her parents are. Some of them sounded like they spoke Russian," I said.

  "Her screams..." Swanson said.

  "Nice drop." It was all I could think of to say. Time passed. We passed it. In silence. Together.

  Suddenly, Swanson yanked the lapel of her jacket to an inch from her nose and screwed up her face again. The silence, the contemplation, the drink. None of it worked to even begin to rest the torment inside our heads. We’d been stupid to think that it could.

  "I hate to think how long those girls were there. The stench was something else.” she rubbed her forehead, then sighed.

  "Didn't see any rats but it wouldn't surprise me.” I screwed my eyes shut, hoping the image of that dark, dank basement would disappear in time.

  "SoCIT will see them right; they'll get counselling, go to good homes," I said, knowing how the latter part of my statement made them sound like abandoned cats or dogs.

  Where the hell were their parents?

  "The sicko that did this is still on the loose!” I could barely get the words out. I hung my head, staring at the swirling tornado of amber liquid in the glass.

  "The girls are free now," Swanson said.

  I turned to face her. “Free? You think that with all this shit inside their minds, they’ll ever be free?”

  She just looked at me and rested a hand on my forearm. “Hey. You know what I meant,” she said, softly. “And the answer’s no.”

  "We need to nail the scumbags," I said. Nothing had changed. Not a thing. Yes, we found the girls. But it was far from over, for any of us.

  "The buyer is the key." Swanson shuffled forward on her stool and pulled one leg up across the other.

  "That fucking buyer's out there somewhere, paying for the kidnapping of little girls, running his sick twisted network, piling up the cash. Murdering innocents without a second thought.” I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands.

  I didn't flinch at Swanson's hand again, warm on my shoulder.

  "We'll find him, Jack.” I raised my head. Her hazel eyes were flecked with green.

  "In the time I've been sitting here, they could have killed another little girl. Someone's daughter, someone's sister." The image of my daughter pushed its way in, my Maddy, playing on the swings with her sister. In the same park.

  I sat up straight and took a deep breath.

  "Don't be so hard on yourself. You saved the lives of dozens of girls tonight. You did that. We all did. You could've given up, but you didn't."

  "I had no choice. I won't sleep properly until I find this guy.” I picked up my glass, swirling the last of the drink around in the bottom, debating whether to finish it off.

  "Tomorrow is a new day.” I wondered if Rae Swanson was talking to me now, or to herself. Probably both.

  I finished off the last of my drink, wondering if tonight I'd get some sleep.

  "I'm off,” I said as I flicked a glance at Swanson. I stood up, intending to head for the front desk to get a room.

  Swanson touch
ed my shoulder. "Jack, we saved lives tonight. We will find the killer."

  I looked back at her. "Yeah. Right. Okay."

  I sounded angry. I sounded dismissive and downright fucking rude. And I didn’t even care. I left her standing there, looking at my back as I walked away. I walked around a table of patrons, and cold air wafted across my face as I opened the main door. I took a step outside onto the street and spied a sign to my left for the main hotel, rather than the public bar.

  A horn honked, and a couple walked towards me, arm in arm, faces aglow.

  The hotel reception area was quiet and warm. The dark-haired receptionist greeted me with a smile. "Hello, how can I help?"

  "A single room for the night please."

  "Of course."

  After handing over my credit card and driver’s license, I took the key and headed to the lift. Once in my room, I pulled out my phone and called Abbie.

  She answered on the third ring. "Jack?"

  "Abbie, thanks for picking up."

  A pause.

  "I guess I've had some time to think," she said. I sighed in relief. She was going to come home. We could be a family again. I wanted to cry. But couldn’t. I was numb.

  "Me too,” I said, my voice faltering. I kicked off my shoes and propped my right arm behind my head, lying down on the bed. "I'm sorry, Abbie. I neglected you and the girls, took you for granted, especially on this job. No excuses."

  Another pause. "I get it, Jack, I really do, I've been a police wife for years. But something is different this time, you know?"

  "Yeah, I think I do. I can't tell you how sorry I am."

  "Thank you, but let's not do sorry, okay? Let's just be civil with each other, that would be a good start."

  "Yeah." A pause. "It's almost over, Abbie, we saved some little girls’ lives tonight." She didn’t respond; she didn’t want to hear about my work.

  "Speaking of girls..." she said. My chest caved in. My daughters. Abbie's voice became breathy. Then I heard the creak of a door opening. "It's Daddy," Abbie said.

  The squealing of my youngest, Maddy, pierced the phone line. I tried to swallow but my throat seemed to have blocked up.

  "Daddy!” she nearly blew my head off with the pitch and volume.

  "Maddy. I've missed you, honey. So much."

  "Well,” she said, sounding indignant like only a little girl could. “Where have you been, Daddy? When can I see you?" Ah, so much like her mother already. I smiled broadly, the first in a long time. My eyes stung.

  "Well, honey, I’ve been working." My voice cracked and wobbled. I took a deep breath and sat up. "I might see you Sunday but I need to talk to Mum first.” Careful Jack, don't make promises you can't keep.

  "Yay! Daddy! I got seventy per cent on my maths test.” I imagined her, eyes shining, out of breath, arms wide. Her beautiful long hair would be out of her school ponytail by now, the honey blonde hair streaked with natural gold and smelling divine, like fresh laundry.

  The same hair Jessica Holmes had… hers had probably even smelled as good, to Will Holmes. But her hair no longer contained life. I wondered if Will Holmes took a lock of it at the funeral? I had to snap myself back to the chat with my daughter; one second, I’d been beaming. Now, I was back at Crime Command yet again. I could have beaten my head against the wall, angry at myself.

  Another deep breath. "Daddy?"

  Back to reality. "Sorry honey, I'm tired. Well done, you're so clever."

  She giggled. "I'm talking, stop!" A rustling, then the phone was taken away from her. The soothing tones of Abbie came on, playing peacemaker. Then she handed the phone back to an impatient Maddy, who had more to say.

  “Well, Daddy. I need you to be at home more. Why are you always away?”

  "Maddy, honey. It's just work. I'm spending a lot of time on the job. That’s why I’m hardly home, so... But I do think of you all the—"

  "Daddy?” she interrupted.

  “Yes, honeybun?”

  “Are you and Mummy splitting up?"

  I recoiled.

  I leaned forward and ran my fingers through my hair. "No, there's a lot of pressure with this job, that's all. It's been on the TV."

  "Were you on TV?"

  "I was, yes, a few days ago."

  "Cool!"

  "Mummy and I are not splitting up. I'll probably see you soon, okay? Can you put Mummy on, so we can work it out please?"

  "Yep. See ya, Daddy."

  Another sigh. I fell back on the bed.

  "I'm here." Abbie sighed. She sounded stressed now, less lighthearted than at the start of the call. I'd definitely underestimated the pressure that running a family alone could put on a woman.

  "Thank you. I mean it," I said.

  "I know you do. But one step at a time, okay?"

  "Okay, agreed. I'm sorry. This time, it's been...intense."

  A sigh, an intake of breath.

  "Well, one thing I never doubted was your ability to do your job," she said. There was a pause. It felt warmer, though, somehow. I heard Abbie breathing, hard.

  “Jack?” she said, making sure I would listen to what was coming next.

  “Yes?”

  “Well d… I mean, well done.”

  The tears started to flow. I had to keep a grip. “Well done…for what?” I hoped she couldn’t hear that the big man was in pieces and his shoulders were quivering, ready to break down.

  “Just for… just for everything you are doing and everything you have achieved,” she said. She meant it. I could tell.

  “You don’t even know about it yet,” I said, gently. I tried to sound as if I was laughing, just a little. But she would know I was thankful for her words and how much they meant.

  “And I don’t need to know, Jack. You see, I know you. I know how hard you work so it will have had results. So, well done. That’s all.”

  I took a massive inhalation to stop the tears from coming, just like trying to hold back a sneeze. I pinched my arm to focus on the pain instead.

  “Thank you. Thank you… Abbie, thank…” I trailed off. It was enough. It was all I could say, anyway. My throat hurt from holding in tears.

  We were definitely moving in the right direction, so I breathed in again, pushed a little. I was scared. My heart was in my mouth.

  "Do you think I could see the girls sometime soon? I mean, not if you don’t think… It’s your call."

  "I think that's a definite possibility, they miss you too, you know." My chest lurched. I imagined a cuddle with my daughters, remembered happier days, me lying on the couch at home exhausted and how they'd both run into my arms. I'd kiss their tiny heads and hold them tight, smoothing down their hair.

  "Thank you. We rescued some little girls today," I told her, again.

  "Oh, Jack," Abbie breathed into her phone. Oblivious to background noise earlier, I heard music and shuffling noises, possibly Maddy’s big sister.

  My eyes stung again, and my face and arms flushed with heat. "Anyway, enough shop talk. How's everything going at your sister's place?"

  "Okay,” Abbie obviously didn't want to give too much away, in case her sister heard. “Well, you know.”

  "She’s there right? Say no more. I'd love to see the girls, and grab a coffee? How about Sunday?" This was only five days away. I wondered if the case would be wrapped up by then. Maybe that way I wouldn't need to use breath spray to cover my alcohol breath.

  "Let's do that. I'll text you where and when."

  Obviously, I wouldn’t want to meet up at my sister-in-law's place, but a bit of neutrality wouldn't hurt. The last thing I wanted was a fire-breathing sister on the warpath on her own territory.

  "Thanks, Abbie."

  "It's okay. I'll text you soon."

  "Okay. Bye."

  "Goodnight, Jack.” her voice sounded lower, quieter.

  She hung up.

  I got up and looked out through the window at the lights below. Things were looking up. I might get to see my girls again.

&nb
sp; I had a chance. This time, I wouldn't blow it.

  Swanson was right. Tomorrow would be a new day.

  I'd find the piece of shit that did this.

  I'm coming for you, you fucking dirtbag.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I arrived in the office at 7 a.m. At least the Jessica Holmes nightmares had stopped, although the haunting face of the unnamed girl from the basement swirled around in my head before sleep. She was staring at me with round, dark eyes set back into a dirty face, her black hair hanging in rats’ tails. We'd made eye contact only briefly before she looked up at Swanson, who'd wrapped a protective arm around her, and squatted down to whisper sounds of comfort in her ear.

  Swanson. She'd been in my dreams too, along with the girl, which was slightly disconcerting. I'd never dreamed about Holmberg or Garrett, nor about my buddy Collen, nor Selena Hicks.

  Around 8 a.m., the noise level increased as more personnel arrived, filling up all three of the cubicles in my quarter. Holmberg, Garrett, Wallace and James from SoCIT made an appearance briefly.

  They offered an obligatory grunt, but I replied only with a nod.

  Turning back to my cubicle, I continued my work. I'd fired up the laptop early and begun combing through the thousands of emails on Marlin Jones’ filthy laptop. I'd spent over an hour going through them already. A pattern had emerged, with thousands of contacts, but none of them buyers. Emails discussed the weather, or what they were eating, but nothing about the so-called goods.

  It was all in fucking code.

  I figured the prick had deleted the meaty stuff, where the real criminal activity occurred. It was time to call in the IT nerd again, Niki. My mobile phone was on the desk, and it vibrated. I picked it up.

  A text from Swanson. What's on for today? It read.

  I pressed reply and sent her a text back. Trawling through emails, plus a visit to Marlin Jones. I'll keep you in the loop.

  Next, I hit new SMS and sent a message to Niki the IT consultant. Please trace deleted emails ASAP. Project Beacon.