All That Was Left Unsaid

by Jacquie Underdown

  He nodded and walked quickly towards the front door to join his sister.

  “Kadie,” Maddison called. “Come on, darling, we’re going for a drive.” Maddison raced around the house, looking in cupboards, under beds, behind curtains, in the washing basket, in the shower, under the kitchen sink, anywhere there was a four-year-old-sized space her daughter could fit. “Kadie, hide-n-seek is over. You must come out now!”

  Ben met her in the living room while she was stupidly lifting cushions from the couch as though Kadie could be behind them. His face was still flushed and that made Maddison almost vomit.

  Tina walked past them, not saying a word, not looking in their direction, and left via the front door.

  “How dare you!” she spat at Ben. “How dare you! With your brother’s wife. What kind of sick, twisted, desperate pervert are you?”

  He lifted both hands in a surrender position. “I’m sorry. It just happened.”

  She slapped her hands over her ears, her nose wrinkling with her distaste. “Don’t give me your gory details. I’m leaving. Where the bloody hell is Kadie?”

  “I think we should talk about this instead of you running away.”

  She spun to face him, finger pointed. “You don’t get a say. You don’t tell me how I should be reacting to you screwing Tina while you’re supposed to be watching our children.” She lunged forward a step, struck him on the face, once, twice, three times as hard as she could until he caught her wrist. She wriggled her hand out of his clasp. A big red welt was already appearing on his cheek.

  Maddison had thought a hundred times since then that she would happily relive seeing her husband screwing another woman if it meant she didn’t have to endure what happened next.

  Convinced Kadie wasn’t hiding inside the house, she marched out the front door, looking around the yard for a hiding place. She checked behind the front bushes, all the while calling out for her. She checked in the trailer, in the shed, in Ben’s car. As she headed around to the back of the property, bright colour pulled her focus.

  Her gaze moved to the very back of the yard to the line of bordering trees. At first, she assumed Kadie was sitting in the tree, waiting. Perhaps she was stuck and couldn’t get down. She marched across the yard, but the closer she got, the more she realised something wasn’t right.

  Kadie’s feet were hanging down from the tree branches. Both her arms were limp at her sides. It took long moments to make sense of what she was seeing and allow the image to become a part of her reality.

  Maddison sprinted. Loud, desperate screams of horror. Neighbours would recall later hearing that sound and knowing something was horribly, horribly wrong.

  “Ben,” she screamed. “Ben, get here now. Get here now. It’s Kadie!”

  Ben was already bolting across the backyard towards her.

  When directly under the tree, Maddison started climbing, her nails digging into the gum’s trunk as though she could claw her way up. Her heart was thumping so hard she felt the pulse in her ears. She could barely draw breath as her throat closed over with dread.

  She already knew. But she still hoped.

  She looked at Kadie as she clumsily sought branches to pull herself up on.

  Ben was there then. He gripped Maddison by the waist, lifted her down and passed her his phone. “Call an ambulance,” he panted. “I’ll get her. I’ll be able to lift her down with me.”

  His voice was the strangest she had ever heard. It made her do a double-take. She had never seen that pale, wide-eyed expression on her husband’s face before.

  Maddison’s hands shook so much, she had to dial triple-zero three times before her fingers hit the right numbers. As the call connected, Ben was already up the tree, edging towards the branch Kadie was hanging from. She was hanging by her head, just beneath her ears.

  As she told the calm woman on the end of the line what was happening, Ben gripped Kadie by the waist from the branch beneath, holding her with one arm as he forced the thick tree branches apart with the other. They tapered outward, the gap between them growing larger toward the thinner outer limbs. Where Kadie’s head was stuck was much too narrow.

  Maddison informed the operator of her address as Ben tried to break the branches when he wasn’t strong enough to separate them. Ben lifted Kadie a little, her head falling heavily to the side, and gently moved her along the branches until they were wide enough for him to slip her through them.

  As he lifted her down, her head fell back at such an unnatural angle, Maddison screamed and dropped the phone. Ben shuffled along the tree branches, Kadie in his arms, then shimmied down the trunk. Carefully, as though touching the finest of china, he supported Kadie’s head and lowered her onto the grass.

  “Hey, darling,” he said, stroking a hand down her face. “Kadie, it’s Daddy. I’ve got you. You’re safe. We’ll get you some help. Kadie. Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

  No response. She was pale.

  Maddison had heard people say that dead people looked like they were sleeping, but that was not the case. Something had changed in her daughter’s face, in the stiffening stretch of her small body as she lay on the grass. Her daughter wasn’t there, only the flesh she once inhabited.

  Dead.

  The first time that word became conscious, Maddison’s legs gave out beneath her. “Do something,” she said breathlessly, barely able to get the words out.

  Ben tilted Kadie’s head slightly back, blew small breaths into her slack mouth, then gently felt along her chest, finding the right place, positioned his palm and began to pump. Kadie’s limp body moved with each push.

  “Come on, baby. Come on, baby,” he said, voice strained.

  Maddison watched her daughter, hoping with all hope, aching with all her body, wishing, threatening and demanding that her daughter open her eyes and sit up.

  “Come on. Come on. Come on, Kadie,” she whispered like a prayer.

  The paramedics arrived, drove the van across the backyard, parking a few metres away. They set to work with such calm efficiency, Maddison worried that they hadn’t realised the seriousness of the situation. But then she noticed the look that passed between them when they saw the condition of Kadie’s neck.

  Maddison’s eyes filled with tears. Her lips trembled.

  Time moved so fast as they worked on Kadie. Eventually, the male paramedic, tall and thin, dressed in blue-green coveralls, sweat sheening on his forehead, slightly out of breath, got to his feet.

  He frowned when he stood before Ben and Maddison. “We’ll wait for the police to arrive to see how we proceed here.”

  “Why aren’t you trying?” Ben said angrily. “Why aren’t you taking her to the hospital? Doctors could be helping her.”

  “I’m very sorry, but we’ve done all we can do.”

  Maddison shook her head, tears flooding her eyes. Resignation, like deep barrel waves, knocked her off her feet and she fell into Ben’s arms. He held her face to his chest.

  “I’m so sorry,” the paramedic said.

  Life seemed to rush out of focus then as though a barrier had slammed down to shield her, for to be fully present, to acknowledge with all her senses and awareness that her daughter was lying on the grass, dead, would have permanently destroyed her mind.

  Even as the police arrived, inspected the scene and asked their questions, it was like Maddison was floating between it all. As the mortician carefully lifted Kadie’s broken body onto a stretcher, and Maddison pressed a kiss to her daughter’s cold cheek, she wasn’t completely there. Her emotions were cordoned off behind a wall.

  Even as the stretcher with Kadie’s little body covered in a sheet was taken to the van, it was like she was in a dream.

  The only thing that zoomed into focus was her husband’s face. She looked at him, seeing every line, every freckle, every groove. Venom filled her mouth as she spat, “You’re to blame for this.”

  Maddison broke from her reverie and sucked in a sharp breath as her surroundings filled her aware
ness. The psychiatrist’s office. Since Kadie’s death, she had never delved so deep into her memories of that day. Her heart was bruised, throbbing with the same measure of pain she felt those few years ago.

  Dr Cheryl reached for some tissues and handed them to Maddison. When Maddison wiped her cheeks, they were wet with tears. She hadn’t even known she had been crying. Her nose was running, so she blew it hard.

  “Do you still believe your husband is to blame for Kadie’s death?”

  Maddison didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” She rubbed a palm over her mouth, noisily breathed through her watery nose. “But I think, maybe, I want to forgive him. Or kill him. Both impulses are as strong as the other.”

  Dr Cheryl offered a small, sympathetic smile. “I understand. Let’s work on that together and see where it leads us.”

  Chapter 25

  Detective Inspector McKenzie entered the small interview room. Four cream-coloured walls. A square desk and three chairs filled most of the space. He had spent hours in there over the years he’d been working as a detective, but murder, the most serious of crimes, wasn’t usual in a town like this. Only eleven convictions in the past twenty years.

  Tina Brooks sat in the chair, sidelong to the door. Her dark hair was tied back into a neat ponytail. Her face was pale, gaunt, eyes slightly downturned at the corners, as was her mouth.

  McKenzie placed his folder onto the table, much more loudly than he had intended. Tina flinched, her gaze darting between the folder and McKenzie’s face. She was terrified, he realised. A much different countenance to the one he’d faced in hospital.

  He hoped fear didn’t shut her down. She had the right to silence today, but if he approached the interview precisely, building a rapport, he should manage to get her talking.

  Forensics and scenes-of-crime police officers had been working around the clock gathering photographic and video evidence, measurements, fingerprints and DNA samples from the two crime scenes.

  Overnight, the results from the victim’s stomach, bowel, bladder, bile, sputum and saliva samples were finalised. All tagged according to protocols to ensure the chain of evidence was intact. The last thing McKenzie wanted was any question of contamination. With a major investigation, the most he could hope for was a clear line of evidence to substantiate a prima facie case and bring perpetrators before a court of law.

  Earlier that morning, McKenzie had endured the grave task of reading the Government Medical Officer’s autopsy report, which indicated the victim died from blunt trauma to the skull, face and brain. No other signs of struggle. No blood or skin under the nails. No scratches. No drug use.

  The Crash Investigation Unit had determined Tina’s car was implicated in the initial collision with Juliette’s vehicle—aligning with the information Tina had initially offered him while in hospital. The team had provided images outlining the exact path each car took before, upon, and after impact.

  Fingerprints taken from the steering wheel of Tina’s car matched the fingerprints on the wrecking bar left at the scene. He was still awaiting the results of forensic DNA samples taken from Tina’s shirt, the victim and hair found at the scene. Tina’s medical records would be forwarded today after a warrant had granted him access.

  “Hi, Tina,” he said as he took a seat on the chair closest to hers. He ran through the preliminaries with her, ensuring she understood her rights before he got started.

  Four hours was all he was allowed under Queensland state laws. In that time, he wanted a confession, but, also, burning in the back of his brain, he needed to know why Tina had lied about Kadie.

  “We’ve been given medical clearance for this interview today. Are you feeling clear, lucid?”

  She nodded.

  “If you could speak up for me please.”

  “Yes. I’m much clearer.”

  “We’ll get started here then. This interview is to expand on the conversation we had at the hospital.”

  She hesitated to respond. She didn’t want to delve into her memories. As the substance in her bloodstream was expelled from her body, her recollection of that horrible morning had become stronger and sharper. Tears were already filling her eyes. Her stomach was sick with remorse.

  “Okay,” she whispered, wiping tears away with her palm.

  He handed her a box of tissues. “I know this is difficult. Just try your best to answer the questions honestly.”

  A nod.

  “I want to understand what was happening that morning before I found you in your car. Were you on your way to work?”

  “No, I wasn’t feeling well, so I’d called in sick. I was…” She lowered her gaze to the table, shook her head. “I was going to follow Isabelle to work.”

  “You had followed Isabelle to and from work for three days before that, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why were you doing that?”

  “To intimidate her. She’d been stalking me. I wanted to send a message that I knew it was her and that I wasn’t going to put up with it.”

  “Describe what you did?”

  “I waited on the side of the road for her each morning.”

  “Which road?”

  “I think it’s Grendell Street. I would wait for her to drive past, flip a U-turn and follow her.”

  “So, when you were parked on Grendell Street, you were facing the direction Isabelle would be arriving from?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you had to cross the right lane, her right, and turn into the left lane to follow her car?”

  “Yes.”

  “What changed the morning your car was involved in the accident?”

  “I was a little later than usual and she was a little earlier, so we passed each other before the intersection.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Isabelle.” Her voice was a whisper. Tears filled her eyes.

  “So, it was Isabelle’s car you passed?”

  Tina shook her head. “It couldn’t have been.”

  “Why couldn’t it have been Isabelle’s?”

  “It wasn’t the right colour. Wasn’t the same make. But it was Isabelle driving. I believed it was Isabelle driving.”

  “Do you still believe it was Isabelle?”

  “I swear to you it was. In my memories, it’s still her. But I’ve seen the news. I’ve heard the details of what happened. I know who was k-killed.” Her lips were trembling. Hands shaking.

  “But you still believe it was Isabelle you saw in that car?”

  She nodded.

  “Can you recall the make of the car?”

  “A small hatch. It was silver, I think.”

  “And when you saw Isabelle in the car, what happened?”

  “She was heading towards me, looking through her front windscreen with a smirk. She lifted her middle finger.”

  “Did that upset you?”

  “Yes.” Slightly defensive. “She’d been terrorising me. And now she was taunting me.”

  “How did you react to that?”

  Tina sat back, her hands flat on the tabletop before her. She rolled her palms until they were facing upwards. Fingers shaking. “It’s all hazy.”

  “Your memory?”

  She shook her head. “No, my vision…” She lifted her hands and shimmied them up and down. “My vision that morning was wavy. I wasn’t seeing things like I’m seeing them now.” A hint of impatience. “I think I blacked out for a moment. I remember the sound of the crash, though. I wish I knew all the details because if we didn’t crash…” She wiped fresh tears away with a tissue.

  “When you came to, what happened?”

  Tina lifted her head, met his gaze. There was a softness to her eyes and face, almost like resignation. “Isabelle climbed out of her car. She was angry.”

  “What was she doing that made you believe she was angry?”

  Tina’s fingers curled into fists as they sat on the table. “Her face was twisted. She was swearing and screaming.” She placed a hand over her chest
and fluttered her fingers. “My heart was racing so fast, it was frightening me. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

  “Did you speak to Isabelle?”

  She shook her head. “I think, maybe, I was trying to, but everything was happening so fast. I know this sounds ridiculous, but her face was turning black like a demon thing. I was suffering from drug toxicity when I got to the hospital, so, I think, maybe, I was hallucinating. My doctor said the drug they found in my system—scopolam… scopo… it’s in the nightshade family supposedly—is known for causing delirium.”

  “Scopolamine?” he asked.

  She nodded. “At almost toxic levels.”

  McKenzie focused on his folder, already well aware that Tina was under the influence of drugs that day. But now he knew the drug he was dealing with.

  Scopolamine had a bad reputation. He had read plenty of horror stories out of Colombia where wealthy-appearing men had their drinks spiked by young, attractive women and were then robbed. The drug wasn’t an issue in Australia as it was only available by prescription and had less demand on the streets because it was certainly not a feel-good party drug.

  He made a note to circle back later to this topic, but for the time being, he wanted to hold the line with his questions.

  “So, what happened when Isabelle’s face changed?” he asked.

  “I screamed, and I sprinted back to my car. But she was following me. Still yelling at me with a terrifying voice. She was threatening me.”

  “How so?”

  “She said she would kill me.”

  “Do you recall the words she used?”

  Tina shuddered, shook her head, trying to toss the memory away. “It sounds ridiculous now, but at the time, I was so scared I could barely breathe.”

  “This isn’t about judging you or your recollection of that day, Tina. This is about discovering the truth.” His voice was calm, placating. “The more you can tell me, even if it feels absurd, the better it’ll be for all involved.”

  Her eyelids closed briefly. She lifted her hands off the table, wrapped her arms around her stomach, shoulders hunching. When she spoke, her words were so soft McKenzie almost missed it. “I’m going to pull your womb out through your throat.”