by Nicole Trope
Eleven days since Daniel’s return
Detective Wardell is obviously pregnant. Her brown hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail but curls seem to have escaped from everywhere as though the elastic around her hair cannot contain them. Her rosy cheeks glow with good health and Megan cannot help but smile when she opens the door and sees her. All morning she has been troubled by an uneasy feeling about this interview, about what Daniel might reveal about his life with Greg and about himself.
‘How far along are you?’ she asks after they’ve exchanged handshakes.
‘Nearly six months now, so not long to go.’
‘No,’ murmurs Megan, drawn back to her pregnancy with Daniel and the bursting energy she’d felt when she was in her second trimester. It was so different from her pregnancy with Evie, where she was fearful all the time, consumed with guilt about having another child and worried about being an older mother.
Megan directs the detective into the living room where Daniel is waiting on the sofa. ‘Michael will be right in,’ she says, grateful that he has taken the day off. Daniel is stroking the face of his phone. ‘It will be fine,’ she’d told him over breakfast this morning, ‘just tell her whatever you can remember.’ He had not acknowledged what she’d said.
Megan dithers for a moment, debating where to sit. She settles for next to Daniel on the sofa, but not right next to him. Detective Wardell takes an armchair, lowering herself into it with a little huff of breath.
‘Sorry about that,’ says Michael as he comes in from his office, ‘just finishing up on the phone. Hello, how are you, Detective?’
‘Very well, thank you, sir.’
Michael sits down right next to Daniel on the sofa and Megan is amazed to see Daniel shoot Michael a look of gratitude. She looks down at her lap and smiles, hopeful that Michael is beginning to break down his defences.
‘Hi, Daniel, how are you doing?’ begins the detective. She hits the record button on her phone.
‘Fine,’ he replies, his thumb moving over the screen of his phone.
‘Now I just want to talk to you about the fire. Is that okay?’
Daniel looks at Michael, who gives him a small nod.
‘Yeah, okay.’
‘Do you know how the fire started?’
‘The hotplate, in the kitchen. It was old but we didn’t have anything else to cook on.’
‘How do you know it was the hotplate? Did you see the fire start?’
‘We were asleep.’
‘So how do you know it was the hotplate?’
‘I’m not sure, I just think it was. It was old and the cord was frayed and he said, “That thing will start a fire one day,” but we could never afford to buy a new one, so I think it was the hotplate. We had beans on toast for dinner. He heated the beans up in a pot so maybe he didn’t turn it off or something like that.’
‘When you say “he”, you mean your dad, right?’ asks the detective.
‘Who else would I mean?’
‘Did you and Dad eat beans on toast often?’ Megan asks, interrupting the interview without thinking.
‘A lot,’ Daniel replies. ‘We never had much money and it’s cheap. He would have gotten a job if…’
‘If?’ Megan says.
‘Nothing,’ he says, looking down at the black screen.
‘Okay, if we could just get back to the fire please, Daniel. Do you remember what happened exactly? For example, were you asleep and woke up when you smelled smoke or felt the heat?’
‘I was asleep and he… Dad was asleep and then I… I started to cough. I coughed and coughed and that woke me up. I took a deep breath in and then I knew my room was filled with smoke. I shouted, “Dad, Dad,” because I couldn’t stop coughing…’ He pauses.
Megan looks at her son. ‘You can tell the detective whatever you remember, Daniel. It’s fine.’
‘I know,’ he says, his jaw tight, his body rigid.
‘Don’t worry,’ the detective says. ‘Whatever you can remember is fine. I’m sure a lot of the details are a bit hazy. It was a hard thing to have to go through. What happened after you called your dad?’
‘He… he didn’t answer and so I got out of bed and I kind of crouched over and went to his room. He was in his bed but when I went over to him, he was sleeping. I tried to get him to wake up. I shook him and I… I even hit him but he wouldn’t wake up and then I thought I should try to get him out of the house so I dragged him out of his bed…’ Daniel stops speaking and focuses on the wall behind the detective.
Megan covers her mouth with her hand. She is unable to stop her tears. This poor child. My poor baby.
‘I tried to drag him out of the house but he was too heavy. He was too heavy… so I couldn’t. I didn’t know he was so heavy. I tried but I couldn’t get him out, I couldn’t save him.’ Daniel stops speaking. He looks up from his phone, his eyes bright with unshed tears.
The three adults in the room wait. Megan wants to grab her son and hold him tight, tell him it wasn’t his fault. She lifts her hands to reach over but then she catches a look from Michael. He gives his head a quick shake and she lowers her arms, knowing that Daniel will only retract from her touch.
Daniel takes a deep, shuddering breath and looks at the detective. ‘And then I could feel the fire coming to get me and I had to get out of the house so I ran out and I tried to turn on the hose outside but the water in the tank was too low and none came out and then I just… just sat and watched the house burn.’
‘That must have been really difficult for you,’ says Detective Wardell. ‘Did you think about calling anyone?’
‘I left Dad’s phone in the house. All I had was this old mobile phone and I didn’t have anyone else’s number.’
Why wouldn’t he have dialled triple zero? Panic? Fear?
‘Okay.’ Detective Wardell struggles to keep her face neutral. ‘How about telling a neighbour? Did you think about that?’
‘I didn’t know the neighbour. I wasn’t allowed to talk to any of our neighbours – no matter where we lived – but when we lived there, we couldn’t even see the neighbours. Sometimes we drove past another house but I didn’t know how to get there from our house.’
‘So, you had a car?’
‘He had a car.’
‘Can you describe the car?’
‘Um, blue and a station wagon. A Toyota station wagon.’
‘Do you remember the number plate?’
‘No,’ Daniel answers. He slides his phone into the pocket of his pants and then folds his arms.
‘Not at all? A few letters or numbers maybe?’
‘I never looked at it; he bought it from some guy.’
‘Some guy – do you remember anything about him?’
‘No.’
‘Surely the car was there,’ interrupts Megan, but Detective Wardell shakes her head.
‘Maybe someone stole it?’ attempts Daniel.
‘Maybe,’ agrees the detective.
‘So how long did you watch the house burn for, Daniel?’
‘How is he supposed to remember that?’ Megan says.
‘Mrs Kade, there is no right or wrong answer. I’m trying to figure out what happened.’
‘Maybe you could get us something to drink, Megs,’ says Michael quietly, and Megan knows she is being asked to control herself.
‘Would you like something to drink?’ she asks ungraciously, wanting the woman out of her house and away from her son. Any kinship she felt with her because of the shared experience of pregnancy has disappeared. It is horrifying to watch Daniel recount this experience, horrifying.
‘I’m fine, thank you. Do you know how long it was, Daniel?’ the detective repeats, angering Megan with her relentlessness.
‘No, I don’t… but it was a long time. And then the rain came and I started walking.’
‘You didn’t have shoes when you got to the police station and your clothes were dry.’
Megan cannot fathom what this statement is mean
t to prove. She starts to say something but then she looks at Michael, who shakes his head again. She bites down on her lip, irritated that she is being told how to behave.
‘I had shoes for a long time, just flip-flops, but then I lost them in… in some mud. That’s when my feet got cut. I stood on a sharp stone but I got it out.’
‘Fair enough. And how did you manage to keep yourself dry?’
‘There was a kind of overhang of rock and I sat under there for a bit until the rain wasn’t so bad. Then my clothes dried in the sun.’
‘Okay, I can see that,’ says the detective. ‘And did you go to school in Heddon Greta? Before… before the fire?’
‘No, I wasn’t allowed. I got books from the library. He got them for me. I had to keep hidden and secret.’
‘Why did you have to keep hidden and secret?’
Megan feels Michael’s hand on her shoulder before she even gets a chance to say anything. She doesn’t want Daniel to have to explain. Surely Detective Wardell is aware of the situation.
He doesn’t reply to the question. The phone comes out of his pocket again, and his thumb resumes its compulsive movement across the screen.
‘Why did you have to keep hidden, Daniel?’ she asks again, and her tone has changed a little. She no longer sounds gentle to Megan, but rather as though she is questioning a suspect. Megan feels acid in her throat. She wants to stand up and order the detective out of her house but the constant pressure of Michael’s hand on her shoulder keeps her sitting and quiet.
‘So she couldn’t find us,’ says Daniel softly.
‘She?’ enquires the detective, and as she says this, she raises her hands to fend off Megan’s protests because this time Megan can actually feel herself rising from the sofa.
‘Mum,’ sneers Daniel. ‘She wanted to take me away from Dad. She wanted to keep me from ever seeing him again but only to punish him because she didn’t want me in her life anymore. She was going to take me away and give me to a foster family who would hurt me.’
‘That’s enough!’ shouts Megan. ‘Detective, I’m sure you have all the information Daniel can give you.’
Daniel stands up. ‘Can I go now?’
‘Well, I would—’ begins the detective.
‘You can go now,’ says Michael firmly. ‘I think it’s enough for today.’
Megan watches the detective colour. Michael is the more senior detective of the pair, and even though this is not his investigation, hierarchy comes first.
She feels a flash of sympathy for the woman and searches her mind for something to ask or say that will return her some dignity.
‘Do you have many other cases to deal with now?’ she asks gently.
‘Well, we’re always busy,’ replies the detective, and then she looks at Michael, one cop to another. ‘We’re looking for a missing backpacker and we’re investigating a series of fires in the region. The two seem to have… coincided.’
Michael nods as though they’ve had a conversation only the two of them have been privy to.
‘I heard about those fires,’ Megan says. ‘You don’t think that it has anything to do with…? What’s his name, the backpacker? It’s sad that you haven’t found him yet.’
‘Steven Hindley. We’ll find him soon, I’m sure.’
‘Steven, Steven, Steven,’ Daniel whispers, making Megan jump. She had assumed he had left the room but he is standing by the door, his face white.
Detective Wardell pushes the record button on her phone again. ‘Yes,’ she says softly, ‘Steven Hindley. He was in Newcastle but no one has heard from him in weeks. His parents are here now. They miss him very much.’
Daniel nods at her words, his lower lip trembling a little. Megan wants to shut the conversation down but she doesn’t know exactly what she’s hearing.
‘Did you know him, Daniel, the backpacker?’ the detective asks. ‘Did you know Steven?’ Her tone is gentle again, as though she is trying to get him to step back from a ledge.
‘Was he in Heddon Greta?’ Michael asks before Daniel has a chance to answer.
‘He was there for a few days but the landlord at the pub thinks he was making his way to Sydney. Did you know him, Daniel?’ the detective prompts again.
Megan looks at Michael, who shrugs his shoulders.
‘No,’ says Daniel, shaking his head slowly as though the movement is painful. ‘I didn’t know him.’
‘But you met him,’ states the detective. ‘You met Steven, didn’t you, Daniel?’
Daniel nods, shocking Megan.
‘He likes fires,’ Daniel said when we were watching television. Is Steven the one who likes fires? Is that who Daniel was talking about even though he denied saying anything? Had the words just slipped out?
‘Where did you meet him?’
‘I… can’t say.’
‘You can’t say or you’re not allowed to say?’
‘Not allowed to say,’ he says, a smile touching at the corners of his mouth.
‘Why are you not allowed to say?’
He swallows twice but remains silent.
‘Did Steven Hindley hurt you, Daniel? Did he do something to hurt you? Did he hurt your dad?’ Detective Wardell asks quickly.
‘No,’ he answers, shaking his head, and then as though he is testing out the concept of the word, he says it again: ‘No.’ His eyes dart around the room.
‘When did you last see him?’
‘I don’t…’ he begins and then he looks directly at the detective. His face colours right to his ears. ‘I don’t know, I can’t remember!’ he yells. ‘I don’t remember anymore. I don’t know. I don’t know.’
He tears out of the room and rushes up the stairs to his bedroom, where he slams the door so hard Megan is afraid it has come off its hinges.
‘What was that about?’ asks Michael, his tone sharp with rebuke.
‘I’m sorry, sir, I shouldn’t have pushed. I just thought he wanted to tell me something. I don’t know why he would have met Steven Hindley. He seemed almost afraid of him.’
‘Heddon Greta is, as you know, a small town, Detective, and if he passed through there, they could have come across each other. Maybe he was just surprised to hear the name of someone he’d met once. You’re taking three separate cases and trying to link them together – be careful of finding connections where there may be none.’
‘But, sir, Daniel has said that he kept hidden. No one in Heddon Greta knew of his existence, so how would he have come across Steven if he was always hiding?’
‘He’s twelve, Detective Wardell. He’s been through a horribly traumatic experience and a hideously stressful six years. I think we can forgive him for not exactly remembering everything perfectly. It’s possible that he did get out of the house once or twice – anything is possible.’
‘You’re right, I’m sorry. Perhaps we can talk to him again when he’s feeling a bit more settled.’
‘I’ll let you know,’ Michael says, standing up.
He hustles the detective out of the house. Megan finds herself paralysed on the sofa.
Daniel’s words repeat in her head. She wanted to take me away from Dad. She didn’t want me in her life anymore. She was going to take me away and give me to a foster family who would hurt me. She, she, she. That’s who she is to her son; that’s who Greg has made her into. Not ‘Mum’ but ‘she’. She is the reason for every bad day her son experienced over the last six years. Megan leans forward and buries her face in her hands. It’s never going to get better, she thinks. I am never going to get him back.
Twenty
Dinner is conducted in front of some game show on television. No one feels like talking.
Daniel inhales his food and then leaves Megan and Michael sitting on the couch.
‘I should go and talk to him, but I have no idea what to say.’
‘I wish I could help, Megs. It may be best to speak to Eliza first, get her take on things.’
‘Probably.’
‘They
’re going to want to interview him again. Detective Wardell would like him to come up to Heddon Greta. They want to take him through what happened at the house and try and trace the route he took when he left.’
Megan stands up, holding her dinner plate, where her chicken and salad sit untouched. ‘No.’
‘You can’t just say no, Megan. It’s an investigation.’
‘No, no, I’m not doing that. He’s a child. It’s cruel to take him back to the place where he lost his father. I don’t care what I have to do to stop it, but it’s not happening.’ She stomps her way to the kitchen and throws her food in the garbage, her stomach twisting with fury. She would not let them drag him back there.
Michael walks into the kitchen and empties his own mostly full plate into the garbage.
‘I’m sorry, Megs, I know it’s not what you want to hear.’
‘It’s not, Michael, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that I’m not allowing it to happen. I’ll get a lawyer if necessary.’
‘Okay, okay, take it easy, Megs. I’m on your side, remember. I’ll talk to her again, let her know that we’re against the idea.’
Megan feels her shoulders relax at the word ‘we’. Michael is in this with her, he is.
She hears the shower turn on upstairs.
‘What did you say to her, to the detective, when you walked her out? You were gone for a long time.’
‘I told her how hard it has been. She understood that she perhaps pushed things too far. She was trying to get him to tell her what really happened on the night of the fire.’
‘What do you mean, what really happened?’
‘Yeah, I wanted to speak to her a bit more before I discussed it with you.’
‘What happened? Discuss it with me now, Michael. He’s my son. I shouldn’t be left in the dark.’
Michael sighs and fills the kettle. ‘Do you want a cup of tea or something?’
‘No, I’m fine, please just tell me what she said.’
‘It turns out there is a real possibility of a connection with Steven Hindley and with the fires that have been started close by. Detective Wardell explained her theory to me and it is something that’s possible.’
