Only Daughter

by Anna Snoekstra

  The slam of a car door is followed by footsteps.

  “Are you all right?” the female cop asks.

  “I get a bit carsick,” I say, checking the sink for blood.

  “Oh, honey, we’re almost there. Just tell us to pull over if you want to be sick.”

  The rain is heavier now and the sky is a rich black. But the icy-cold air helps to fight the nausea. I clamber into the back of the car and pull the door shut with my good arm. We veer back out onto the highway. I rest my throbbing arm up next to the headrests, afraid of the blood beginning to drip down to my wrist, and lean my head back against the window. I don’t feel the sickness anymore, just a floating feeling. The even patter of the rain, the soft tones of the radio and the heat of the car lull me into a near sleep.

  I’m not sure how long we’ve been driving in silence when they start talking.

  “I think she’s asleep.” The man’s voice.

  I hear the squeak of leather as the woman turns to look at me. I don’t move.

  “Looks like it. Must be tiring work being such a little bitch.”

  “Where do you think she’s been this whole time?”

  “My guess? Ran off with some man, married probably. He must have gotten sick of her and given her the boot. I reckon he was rich, too, by the way she’s been looking down her nose at everyone.”

  “She said she was abducted.”

  “I know. She’s not acting like it, though, is she?”

  “Not really.”

  “And she looks in pretty good nick, considering. If she was kidnapped, he must have been pretty fond of her. That’s all I’m saying. What do you think?”

  “I don’t give a shit honestly,” he says. “But I reckon there might be a commendation in it for us.”

  “I don’t know. Shouldn’t she be in a hospital or something? I don’t know if ass hat was really meant to just let her leave when she clicked her fingers.”

  “What is the protocol, then? I know what we’re meant to do when these kids go missing, but what about when they come back?”

  “Fucked if I know. Must have been hungover that day.”

  They laugh, and then the car is quiet again.

  “You know, I’ve been wondering all day who it is she reminds me of,” the female cop says suddenly. “It just hit me. It was this girl back in high school who told everyone she had a brain tumor and took a week off school for the operation. A bunch of us started a drive to raise money for her. I think we all thought she was going to die. She came back right as rain on Monday, though, and for a few hours she was the most popular girl in school. Then someone noticed that none of her hair was shaved, not even an inch. The whole thing was a crock of shit from start to finish.

  “That girl, she looked at you just like our little princess back there looked at us when we met her. The way she takes you in, surveys you with that cold glint in her eyes like her head is going a million miles a minute trying to figure out the best way to fuck with you.”

  After a while I stop listening to them talk. I remember I have to speak to the detective when I get to Canberra, but I feel too dizzy to try to plan my answers. The car pulls off the main road.

  I wake to the jolt of the brakes and the light going on as the female cop opens her door.

  “Wake up, little lady,” she says.

  I try to sit, but my muscles feel like they’re made of jelly.

  I hear a new voice.

  “You must be Constables Seirs and Thompson. I’m Senior Inspector Andopolis. Thanks for pulling the overtime to bring her down.”

  “No worries, sir.”

  “We better get started. I know her mother is over the moon, but I have a lot of questions for her first.”

  I hear him pull the door next to me open.

  “Rebecca, you can’t imagine how pleased I am to see you,” he says. Then he kneels down beside me. “Are you all right?”

  I try to look at him but his face is swirling.

  “Yes, I’m okay,” I mutter.

  “Why is she so pale?” he calls sharply. “What’s happened to her?”

  “She’s fine. She just gets carsick,” the female cop says.

  “Call an ambulance!” Andopolis snaps at her as he reaches over and undoes my seat belt.

  “Rebecca? Can you hear me? What’s happened?”

  “I hurt my arm when I was escaping,” I hear myself say. “It’s okay, just hurts a bit.”

  He pulls my jacket to the side. There’s dried blood all the way up to my collarbone. Seeing that makes my vision fade even more.

  “You morons! You absolute fucking idiots!” His voice sounds far away now. I can’t see the reaction from the cops; I can’t see their faces paling. But I can imagine.

  I smile as the last of my consciousness fades.

  2

  Bec, 10 January 2003

  Bec had decided months ago to live her life as if she was being watched. Just in case there was a film crew hiding behind a corner or her mirror was two-way. It meant no more yawning without covering her mouth or picking her nose on the toilet. She wanted to always look exactly like a happy, pretty sixteen-year-old girl should.

  This felt different, though, this prickling on the back of her neck. This felt like there really was someone watching her. She had been feeling it for a few days now, but every time she whipped her head around there was no one there. Maybe she was going mad.

  It would be scary for your worst fears to be coming real all around you and everyone to just dismiss you as crazy. Their next-door neighbour, Max, used to yell all night. Her mom told her he must just be arguing with someone on the phone, but she’d peered through her curtains when he’d woken her at 4:00 a.m. one morning, and there he was, screaming at no one in the dark. He threw a rock through their kitchen window a few weeks later. Her dad made a call that night, and Max was taken away. When he came back, he didn’t yell anymore. He just sat on his stoop and stared into the middle distance, slowly getting fatter and fatter.

  Would it be better to feel afraid all the time or to feel nothing at all? She hadn’t decided yet.

  The sun glared down at her through a milk skin of clouds. She would probably be burnt if she stayed out here much longer. But she liked this image of herself. Lying on her back in Lizzie’s swimming pool. Green bikini, freckled arms outstretched, belly button filling up with water as she breathed. She wondered if she was being watched right now. The bedrooms of Lizzie’s brother and father looked down onto the pool. She’d caught both of them staring at her a few times over the past year. It should gross her out, but it didn’t.

  The sound of feet slapping against the concrete, a moment of stretched silence and then the surface of the water exploded as Lizzie cannon-bombed. She came up for air giggling madly, her wet hair plastered over her face.

  “I almost got you!”

  “You’re such an idiot.” Bec laughed, trying to dunk her back under the water. Lizzie grabbed her waist and they screeched and cackled as they attempted to wrestle, slippery limbs like eels tangling together. Bec dunked Lizzie hard and she came up spluttering.

  “Truce?”

  Lizzie held out her pinkie finger, still coughing. They gripped pinkies and Bec swam quickly out of the way before Lizzie changed her mind. Bec leaned over the tiled edge of the pool, getting her breath back. She wished this was her house and Lizzie was her sister, although they looked nothing alike. While Bec was lean and relatively flat-chested, Lizzie’s body was all soft and curvy in the right places. Sometimes when Lizzie put on red lipstick Bec thought that her best friend looked just like Marilyn Monroe, but she never told her.

  “Oh, now my head is spinning again.” Droplets of water clung from Lizzie’s eyelashes as she stared intently at Bec.

  “It’s your own fault.” Bec rested her head on her arm. Her hangover was slipping away. The dizziness was gone and her stomach was beginning to calm.

  “Last night was awesome, wasn’t it?” A dangerous little smile crept over Bec
’s face as she said it. Lizzie didn’t even know the best bits.

  “We’re so lucky.” Lizzie sighed and pushed herself off the edge. “You’d better go, dude. You’re going to get in the shit with Ellen.”

  “Crap! What time is it?” Bec pulled herself out of the pool, the baked concrete searing her bare feet as she hopped toward the lounge room. She grabbed her phone off the kitchen bench. It was two thirty; she would only just make it if she hurried. She had an SMS. It was from him. Just woke up. Always have the most amazing nights with you.

  Bec was glad Lizzie wasn’t there to see the goofy smile that plastered her face as she ran up the stairs to grab her work clothes. The message ran over and over in her head. It must mean he liked her. She was sure now. She slammed into Lizzie’s brother, Jack, on the landing. His door was open and the grinding sounds of his metal music pumped from his bedroom. He had put a hand out instinctively; it felt hot on her lower back. For a quarter of a second they were so close it was like they were embracing; she could feel his breath, smell his smell. He jerked his hand away.

  “Sorry!”

  He looked awkwardly at the floor, his face colouring. She realized suddenly she was basically naked and gave a little shriek of laughter as she ran into Lizzie’s room. Pulling off her bikini, she left it a wet green lump on the carpet and put her work uniform on. It stank of deep-fryer oil and stuck to her wet skin. She wished she’d given herself time to have a shower and wash her hair. Bec would usually never go anywhere without straightening it. Grabbing her makeup bag, she smudged on her concealer, smeared on the thick foundation, blush on top, then mascara. She liked to wear liquid eyeliner these days, too, but it was too easy to muck up if she was in a hurry. She’d gone to school looking like a panda once and never wanted to repeat the experience. Pulling on her ballet flats as she walked, she grabbed her bag and took the stairs down two at a time.

  “See ya, bitch!” she called to Lizzie, who stuck her middle finger up from the swimming pool.

  The gate banged shut behind her as she rushed down the street. It was now 2:43 p.m. She should make it. Her pace slowed. It was too hot to run. The air felt heavy, pushing her down into the road. This was a stinker of a summer. Day after day of over forty degrees. She ran her fingers through her hair; it was almost dry already. Hopefully it wouldn’t frizz.

  Sunday was his day off. She wished he was going to be there anyway. They could compare hangovers, rehash the events of last night and laugh. Her thumbs flashed across the keypad: On my way to work now. Boo, wish you were there :). Reading over it again and again, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to be too obvious, although she’d read in a magazine once that obvious was good. You have to give them the confidence to make a move. The smiley face had to go, she decided; it was too childish. Her finger hesitated over the send button, her heart racing. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to push it. The private little smile crept over her face again and Bec wondered if Lizzie had any idea. She liked having this secret. It felt dangerous, like playing with fire.

  For a moment the other secret leapt into her mind. The memory of it was like red-hot metal, searing and violent. She tried to push it back down; she shouldn’t be thinking about that.

  Gum leaves crunched under her feet as she turned the corner onto the main road. The smell of baking eucalypt was pungent. It made her eyes water. The leaves were crisp and black around the edges, like the heat in the air had burnt them. For a second she wondered if she might vomit, if last night’s beer was going to make a reappearance after all. She stopped walking and held on to a branch to steady herself, squeezing her eyes shut.

  Last night had been fun; it was worth feeling a bit sick today. The best nights out always happened by surprise. She’d been closing up. Mopping the floors and washing out the deep fryer with two fingers pinching her nose. Matty was doing the grill. His thick fingers were black from the grease. She didn’t understand why he never wore gloves. She used to be a bit scared of Matty, with his hulking frame and tattooed arms, but then she realized he was one of the sweetest men she’d ever met. More like a teddy bear than a biker.

  “I’m meeting Ellen and Luke at the pub after this. Do you want to come?”

  “Do you reckon we can sneak Lizzie in, too?” He’d said yes, but she would have gone even if he hadn’t.

  The five of them played pool, Matty and Luke taking it in turns and buying her pots of beer. She hated beer, but didn’t want to ask for cider; she loved feeling like one of the boys. The pub was dark and smelt musky. When she’d opened the doors to the toilets, she saw her own dilated pupils in the mirror, before they responded to the bright fluorescents. She’d smeared on a bit more makeup, wishing she’d brought something to change into. But she hadn’t let that spoil the night.

  Bec had tried not to stare at Luke. But she was willing him to come over, to get closer. Eventually she sat a game out and so did he.

  “How are you going, mate?” She loved it when he called her that, as if they were complete equals. She hated nothing more than being treated like a little girl.

  When he sat next to her, she could feel the radiating heat of his body. They made smutty jokes as they watched the others play; she lit up when she managed to make him laugh. He told her secrets. She listened. She wished he would kiss her. He didn’t. But he took her hand once and squeezed it, his eyes staring at her intensely. He didn’t have to say anything; she could guess what he was thinking. She was too young. When they were working late one night he’d told her that a friend of his had a rule. You could date someone half your age, plus seven years. Any younger than that was wrong.

  “So, when do you turn seventeen?” he’d said, like it was a joke. It had been three months away then. Only one now. She would just have to be patient.

  Bec’s foundation was starting to melt off. She pushed herself to walk a little faster. McDonald’s had air conditioning. Not that it helped much in the drive-through. Fingers crossed she was just at the main counter today. Then she felt it again, that prickling feeling. She turned. There was no one behind her. The street was strangely empty. Everyone was locked away in air conditioning. She quickened her pace, the back of her neck still prickling.

  When she got off the bus after work the sky was black. The air was still heavy and hot. Her suburb was always silent when she came home late. When she walked around Lizzie’s street at night, it felt like it breathed—lights on, windows open, people laughing, music playing. There was the welcome smell of hot dinners wafting out of the screen doors.

  In Bec’s suburb, everyone shut their curtains tight, so you could just see the blue glow of televisions around the edges.

  She couldn’t wait to get home, to open her front door to a cool house. Her family sitting in front of the television, laughing along to some dumb sitcom. To feel the relief of being comfortable, included and safe. Of being home.

  At least, she wished that’s what it would be like. But that was someone else’s family. Not hers.

  Her limbs were starting to ache as she walked up the hill to her street. It had been a long shift. Ellen was angry with her; she’d been ten minutes late after all. When she’d seen her reflection in the stainless steel, she saw her running makeup and frizzy hair. There was nothing she could do about it either. Sitting in the drive-through window, she could feel her forearms starting to burn; she hadn’t even put sunscreen on.

  That doomsday feeling started to creep up on her. That feeling when she was so tired that everything started to feel wrong. She tried not to think about Luke. If she did, she would start to pick it apart; to worry. To realize he didn’t like her at all, that she was being an idiot and everyone was laughing at her.

  She approached her house slowly. It was dark. Every window pitch-black.

  3

  2014

  A tube of white light surfaces in the thick black. I close my eyes again. It’s too bright. My throat is dry and my head throbs. Groaning, I rub my eyes. Something catches on my cheek. Blinking the blurri
ness away, I look at my wrist. Around it loops a plastic hospital band, with the words Winter, Rebecca in bold type. Looking around groggily, I see the officer from last night asleep in a chair at the foot of the bed.

  Oh, God. This is going to be so much more difficult than I’d thought.

  Standing in that dark toilet block, the cold and fear and exhaustion had seemed like the bigger of two evils. But now, waking up in this hospital bed with a sleeping detective blocking the door, I realize that maybe I’d made a mistake. I’d been so stupid to think that I could just start a brand-new life, that it would be that easy.

  The room is quiet. There is only the sound of the cop’s sleeping breath and the muffled chatter from a few rooms away. There’s a window to my right. Maybe I could make it.

  As quietly as I can, I push myself up to sitting. My arm is bandaged and stinks of antiseptic, but it barely hurts. Must be because of whatever is in the drip attached to my hand. Looking down, I see that I’m wearing nothing but a thin hospital gown and underwear. Someone undressed me. For a moment I could laugh—how many times have I woken up in a strange bed out of my clothes?

  The detective snorts a loud snore, waking himself up.

  “Bec,” he says, rubbing his eyes and smiling.

  I stare at him. No way I’m getting out that door now.

  “Do you remember me from last night? Vincent Andopolis.” He looks at me carefully. This is happening too fast. I have no idea how to answer him.

  “Everything’s a bit fuzzy.” My voice is still thick with sleep and painkillers. Best to keep it simple while I try to figure out what the hell I’m going to do.

  I do remember him. He’s the missing persons detective who’d called my two chauffeur cops “morons.” I hadn’t been able to make out much of him last night; he looks different in the cold, sterile hospital lights. His grey eyes and wide shoulders hint at the attractive man he must have once been, but his gut pushes tightly against his shirt and his hair is more salt than pepper.