‘You really want to go back there?’ asked Chandler. Mitch didn’t answer.
Chandler fought his way through the forest of microphones without comment. The numbers of vans and reporters had multiplied like bacteria.
The darkness pervaded everything and as he drove home Chandler found himself peering into the murk of every house, garden and alley, wondering if Gabriel lay in wait and was unnerved to find himself frightened by the prospect, frightened by what lurked in the shadows of his own town. His small, laid-back town was now a pulsing mass, terror soaked into its very fabric.
The fear lingered even as he arrived home to find the kids settling in for a rare evening in their own house, Nanna watching over them. He quashed those plans immediately.
‘Okay, everyone, pack some things. We’re going to go stay with Nanna and Grandad tonight.’
‘Again? Why?’ asked Sarah, frustrated.
‘I might have to leave in a hurry,’ said Chandler.
It was hard to tell who glared at him hardest. Sarah or her nanna.
‘Go pack,’ he ordered and walked to the front window. He scanned the front garden, the mighty paper-bark tree in the yard casting long shadows in the washed-out porch light, shedding its orange-brown skin, moulting . . . like the town was moulting, from peaceful existence to insidious terror. Chandler shook his head, trying to clear his mind.
Leaning forward he checked his neighbours, the Rizzos. Lights dotted their two-storey home, the garden swing twitching slightly in the breeze. There was nothing abnormal in the scene but all he could envision was Gabriel commandeering the Rizzos’ house, lying in wait for him.
‘What was that about?’ asked his mum.
Chandler almost banged his head on the glass. He checked that the kids couldn’t hear. ‘It’s best they stay with you.’
‘I can stay here with them if you get called away. But they were looking forward to spending an evening with you.’
‘Me too,’ said Chandler. It was true, nothing would have been more enjoyable. An evening with both his kids, the world back to normal.
‘It doesn’t much seem like it.’
‘I’ll make it up to them.’
‘You can’t keep taking from the bank. You have to deposit some too.’
‘I know.’
He returned to the window. Still Gabriel lurked in every shadow. Chandler had no doubt he was going to return like some nightmarish monster. He was resourceful, and smart, and moved with what seemed like unworldly stealth. Chandler cursed himself once again for not pressing Mitch to realize that their quiet, pensive prisoner was infinitely more dangerous than the constant whinger. A serial killer doesn’t whine. Or introduce themselves, as Gabriel had noted.
His mum was helping the kids pack when the shrill ring of the landline interrupted his stakeout. A call on the landline signalled trouble. An unknown caller.
Leaving his post at the window he answered. His instinct was right. It was trouble, the voice causing his stomach to try and escape his body.
Teri.
‘Are the kids there?’ she asked, a little frantic.
‘Yeah,’ he answered. If she wanted to speak to them he would refuse. He’d claim that they had already gone to bed.
‘I’m comin’ to get them,’ she blurted out.
‘No you aren’t,’ said Chandler, louder than he wanted.
As ever, Teri took this as a challenge and raised her voice in return. ‘I’m coming and taking them to the city where they’ll be safe.’
Safe. He realized what must have happened. She had been talking to Mitch who had pumped her full of fear, possibly out of genuine concern but more likely as leverage in the coming custody battle. The perfect opportunity to prove that she was ready and able to look after the kids in a time of crisis. To assume the role of their protector. Chandler wasn’t prepared to let that happen.
‘No, Teri, it’s too dangerous.’
‘I know. I know what’s happening there.’
Chandler stabbed his sword at the chink in her armour. ‘And how’s that?’
‘How’s what?’
‘How do you know what’s going on here?’
‘I—’
There was silence from the other end. Chandler decided to swing the sword again.
‘Teri, I know about you and Mitch,’ he said, before lowering his voice so as not to be overheard. ‘About you wanting to take my kids.’
‘That’s—’ stumbled Teri before going on the offensive. ‘This is the stubbornness I wanna get the kids away from.’
Chandler let the slight pass. ‘I’m going to fight you, Teri. All the way.’
‘Go right ahead,’ she replied. ‘Mitch knows people.’
‘And they know Mitch,’ said Chandler.
From the background his mum announced that the kids were ready to leave.
‘I’m going now,’ said Chandler.
‘Let me—’
He cut her off, and hung up. He left the phone off the hook in case she decided to call back.
Chandler hustled the kids and his parents out of the house to the car. Ignoring the kids’ suggestions of who should sit where, he shoved them inside. Putting Jasper in last, he looked behind the car. Something or someone was skulking in the distance. Chandler was sure of it. And sure of who it was. Gabriel. He looked back at his family. His muscles twitched to leave them and go after Gabriel but he would have to leave them exposed.
Deciding against it, Chandler jumped in and pulled away. As he peered in the rear-view mirror, a set of headlights appeared from nowhere, tracking a hundred metres behind as he turned on to Harper’s, keeping a consistent speed and distance from him. A tail. Not a subtle one. He wouldn’t have time to lose it if he went the direct route to his parents’ house so instead of shooting down Tunney’s, he pulled sharply on to Mercado, the tyres screeching, his mum shrieking at him to slow down.
As he turned the corner, the headlights disappeared only to reappear moments later. Then they began to close in rapidly. Chandler’s sense of danger heightened. He wanted to speed up but any faster and they were liable to plough into something solid. So he decided to slow down, force the car to go past and identify who was behind the wheel.
It pulled up alongside him in seconds. Chandler glanced over expecting to see Gabriel and wondering what he would do.
But it wasn’t Gabriel. The driver was a man in his early fifties, brown hair washed back from his forehead, focusing solely on the road in front as he drove down the wrong side of it. Leaning over from the passenger’s side was someone he did recognize, Jill SanLuiso, Channel Nine reporter for the Pilbara, her jet black hair stylishly streaked with grey, distinguished and pretty for her advancing years.
‘Can you tell me what the latest situation is, Sergeant?’ she shouted across the face of her driver.
Chandler couldn’t believe it. They had followed him home, hunting for a scoop. Rage made him grip the steering wheel tight. ‘The latest situation, Miss SanLuiso,’ he said, his words curt, ‘is that you’re driving down the wrong side of a residential street, breaking the speed limit while hassling a policeman and his family.’
‘You know what I mean, Sergeant. What’s the latest with the serial killer out there?’
Chandler almost swerved into them in anger, glancing in the rear-view mirror to witness the look of concern on his kids’ faces.
‘No comment,’ he said, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘And I ask you not to mention anything more in front of my family.’
‘Just a few words.’
‘I have a few but you won’t be able to broadcast them.’ Turning sharply on to Prince’s he drove off. Miss SanLuiso didn’t follow.
A minute later they were safely ensconced in his parents’ house. Chandler’s interrogation had only just begun.
‘What did she mean by serial killer, Daddy?’ asked Jasper.
‘What it means is—’ started Sarah.
Chandler interrupted her. ‘What it means, Jasper, is tha
t someone has done something bad and now the police are looking for him.’
‘And you dunno where he is, Daddy?’
‘Not yet, but Daddy’s friends have it under control. We’ll find him and put him in custody.’
‘Can I help?’ asked Jasper, his voice eager.
The honesty in the offer helped ease Chandler’s tension. ‘You can help by going to bed on time and without a tantrum.’
‘I will.’
‘Good boy,’ said Chandler, ruffling his hair.
Chandler glanced around and then looked at his mum. She was frowning.
‘Are you leaving? Now?’ she asked. It was a question – and a thinly disguised order not to even think about it.
‘No,’ said Chandler. Given the scare they’d had on the way here, Chandler wasn’t about to go.
‘Daddy?’ asked Jasper, his sister having scampered into the living room to lay claim to the majority of the sofa.
‘Yes, Jasp.’
‘Why are you putting the bad man in custody, like us?’
Chandler frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You are putting us in custody too. I heard you on the phone. Would we have to go to prison?’
Chandler paused. Jasper must have overheard him on the phone to Teri and got the wrong idea. Again the shame of neglecting his family – his kids – rose to the surface. There was only one thing to do. Taking the young boy into the living room he sat him on the sofa beside his sister to explain it to both of them. His mum followed, both witness and judge.
‘It’s a different type of custody. It means that your mum wants you to go live with her.’
‘Just me?’ asked Jasper.
‘No, you and your sister,’ said Chandler, looking at Sarah. She was sitting up on the sofa, staring at him. Her semi-permanent look of boredom had been blown away.
‘And you?’ asked Jasper. ‘Us living together again with Mum?’
‘No, you and her and Uncle . . . Mitchell.’ The words were like poison on his tongue.
‘When did this happen?’ asked Sarah.
‘It hasn’t happened yet. It’s something your mum wants.’
‘Since when?’
‘A few months, a year, I’m not sure,’ admitted Chandler.
‘All because she suddenly became an adult,’ added his mum. Chandler agreed with her on this but glared at her to keep quiet.
‘Daddy?’
‘Yes, Jasper,’ said Chandler, focusing on his son.
‘If we go there, how will we get to school? It’s lots and lots and lots of miles away.’
Though the shame had left him feeling empty inside Chandler couldn’t hold back the smile. ‘It’s not definite yet, by no means, but I need to know how you feel about it. They’ll ask you—’
‘I don’t want to leave here,’ interrupted Sarah.
‘I don’t want to leave unless you’re coming, Daddy,’ said Jasper, throwing himself at Chandler, clasping his arms around Chandler’s neck like he would never let go.
The sheer insistence of their responses made Chandler feel a little better and he settled into playing a few games of Jenga with his kids. For a while he even forgot about the looming spectres of Gabriel, Mitch and Teri.
It was almost bedtime when the phone rang. His mum answered before Chandler could get to it. It wasn’t Teri this time, but the station. The call to return.
‘Tell them I’m having a shower or something,’ said Chandler as she covered the mouthpiece. He was in no mood to leave his family, not while it was dark and Gabriel was still out there.
As he put the kids to bed, the phone rang again. Tanya this time. Chandler nodded that the same excuse should be used. Still in the bathroom.
He had finished Jasper’s bedtime story when the next call came. This time the order came from the very top. Mitch wasn’t accepting Chandler’s well-worn excuse.
‘He won’t get off the phone,’ said his mum. The frown she now wore changed her welcoming and open face into a haggard one. ‘Go in,’ she said. ‘The kids won’t get any sleep with the phone ringing every minute. Plus, eventually he’ll come out here and drag you back.’
‘I can’t go in,’ said Chandler, forcing the gulp down.
‘Why, son?’ Even his dad’s concentration had been torn from the TV over his son’s reluctance to leave.
‘He knows where I live.’
‘Who does?’ asked his mum.
‘The one we’re looking for. The killer.’
‘How does he know that?’ asked his mum, her expression one of shock.
Chandler took a deep breath and explained his mistake. Both were silent for a second before his mum spoke up. ‘There’s nothing to say he’s coming back, son. Why would he?’
‘He did before. We think he will again.’
There was a moment’s pause before his dad rose from his armchair with intent. Taking a key from a chain around his neck, he entered the kitchen and unlocked the cabinet affixed horizontally on top of the cupboards. From it he pulled out the old shotgun, the wood chipped and worn but, as far as Chandler knew, still in perfect working order.
‘I’ll keep watch,’ he announced, clicking the barrel open and slipping two red shells inside.
‘Dad, you don’t need that thing,’ said Chandler, even if he did feel a little more secure in its presence.
‘Can you even use that still, Peter?’ warned his mum.
‘Of course I can, Caroline. My fists might be brittle and my wits might be gone, but I can still pull a bloody trigger.’
He gripped the gun, hunched as he had been the last few years. His stubby fingers eased over the butt, the fingernails as cracked and chipped as the paint on the old Ford Mustang that lay in the back of the garage.
‘I only want you to point it, not use it,’ said Chandler.
‘What’s the use in that?’
‘Take out the shells, Dad,’ said Chandler, his hand out.
‘What do you mean, take out the shells? If I’d wanted a club, I’d have bought a club.’
‘No shells,’ said Chandler. His dad mumbled under his breath but popped the barrel and removed the cartridges. Chandler took them and passed them to his mum. He trusted her not to let him have them.
His last action was to go and kiss the kids goodnight. Sarah let him kiss her on the forehead but waved him out of the room as she stared into the glowing screen of her phone. Jasper was asleep and he was about to creep out and leave him be when the young boy awoke.
‘Why are you going, Daddy?’ he asked, his voice drowsy.
‘I have to help the town.’
‘Because of that serial killer?’
‘Yes,’ said Chandler, hoping that Jasper wouldn’t ask any difficult questions.
‘Why does he hurt people, Daddy?’
‘I don’t know, Jasp. Some people are just bad people but Grandpa and Nanna will keep you safe while Daddy catches him. Now it’s time to get some sleep. We’ll go out on the go-kart again tomorrow.’
Chandler left his son smiling at the thought. In the living room his dad was perched by the front door, staring out the front window.
‘Chances are—’ started Chandler then stopped. He didn’t know what the chances were of Gabriel coming here so he settled upon, ‘Just keep calm, okay?’
‘I am calm,’ said his dad, adjusting the empty shotgun across his knees.
37
Back at the station Nick brought Chandler up to speed on the hunt. The initial search in town had been fruitless; garages, gardens, sheds, shacks, houses and stores on the main street had been searched and in some cases, ransacked. That had taken a while. There’d been plenty of them to clear; the once numerous small, independent stores abandoned, as dried up as the desert beyond. The latest reckoning was that Gabriel was still in the outback, bedding down up there, possibly in an emergency hide-out of some kind.
Chandler joined the rest of the team in Mitch’s office.
‘Kids all right?’ said Mitch with a cheer
less smirk.
Chandler nodded. ‘Find our escaped suspect yet?’
Mitch dropped the smirk.
Mitch carried on. ‘Come daylight we’ll send the plane and chopper up. Exmouth are lending us theirs too. Hopefully we’ll spot some movement or sign of a camp.’
‘What about sending a group in tonight? Catch him cold,’ said Roper, his head bandaged after being taken down by Gabriel earlier.
‘We’d see nothing,’ said Chandler, ‘and the last thing we need on top of this is a case of friendly fire.’
Mitch weighed in. ‘Besides, he’ll be too smart to light anything.’
‘Unless he tries to destroy evidence like last time,’ added Tanya, sending a murmur of possibility around the room.
‘Can we be sure he’s still out there?’ asked Chandler. ‘There’s a chance he double-backed and bedded down in some barn on the outskirts.’
‘We’ve searched as extensively as we can,’ said Mitch. ‘And even if he has, we’re left with the same needle in a haystack problem.’
‘Well, do we need to be seen to do something? Rather than sitting around waiting for him to make the next move?’ asked Luka. It was a solution designed to plaster over the cracks, saving face. The positive projection to the public. He was slowly turning into Mitch.
‘Sitting still may be our best bet, Luka,’ said Chandler. ‘He attacked the guy we have in our cells when he had the chance. Maybe he’ll come back to finish the job.’
‘Whatever the decision, the press need to be updated,’ said Mitch. ‘This time I think it’s best that one of you local guys do it.’ Though he didn’t look at him, Chandler understood that the buck was being passed.
‘Why local?’ asked Chandler, wanting some reasoning behind it.
‘To show that both local and state are working in harmony to protect the town.’
As Chandler expected: a bullshit reason. ‘So what you want is for me to go out there and tell them that we’ve got nothing, putting my face on the incompetence of the police force.’
Mitch shook his head but the thin smile was telling. ‘No, Sergeant, I want you to go out there and do your job.’
‘You’re the ranking officer here,’ said Chandler.
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