Broken Toys

by Jackson Lear

  “Yeah, she was,” said Josh. It occurred to him that he would have to tell this story a hundred times before he died. Maybe one day he would be good at it.

  “So you actually dug her up?”

  “Yeah.”

  “With shovels?”

  “Yeah. We carried them in and started digging. It took about two hours.”

  Brooke winced as though she was sucking on a lemon. That was another aspect Josh was sure he would have to get used to seeing.

  “I didn’t dig her completely up. As soon as we found the suitcase we knew we were onto something. Then I saw a bit of her clothes and that’s when I called the police.”

  Brooke nearly spun around incredulously. “And this happened to you just yesterday?”

  “Yeah,” said Josh. “So I’m still processing everything. I’m trying to focus on the bit where, ‘Hey, I’ve solved a twenty year old mystery,’ instead of, ‘I found a dead fifteen year old girl.’”

  “Yeah, I’d stick to the first one as well,” said Brooke. “At least her parents can finally have some peace of mind.”

  “Exactly,” said Josh. “I’m going with the positives of the whole thing. Hopefully the negatives will fade in time. So, a little encouragement would help right about now.”

  Brooke forced a smile to the surface and held her hand against Josh’s arm. “You solved a twenty year old mystery and will give closure to a girl’s parents.”

  “Thank you,” said Josh. “Remember, you can’t tell anyone.”

  She gave him a quick nod. “I get it.”

  “I know this isn’t going to win me a best timing of the year award, but to change the subject completely, are you doing anything this weekend?”

  Brooke blurted out a laugh. “I’m going out with my husband. Unless you want the most awkward double date ever and bring Hannah along.”

  “I would love to, but I’d probably bring Amanda instead if we’re doubling up.”

  Brooke squinted back at Josh.

  “Yeah, something else happened last night as well.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I think it’s been a long time coming.”

  “So … you and Amanda …?”

  “Are friends,” said Josh.

  Brooke took a stab in the dark. “And we are?”

  Josh fell into a nervous smile. “More than that.”

  Her eyes dropped a fraction as the barriers came up again. “Okay. In the future you may want to wait a little longer than twelve hours after breaking up with someone before you ask a married woman out on a date.”

  “Yeah, but I think she and I have been unofficially broken up for a while now.”

  “Maybe in your mind, but not to her. I should get back to work.”

  “Of course. Remember: don’t tell anyone.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” Brooke left, closed the door behind her, and hurried to answer the phone from a prospective client.

  Josh stared at his computer screen for half an hour before being able to start work again.

  He was halfway through the edit of a quarterly presentation video for a group of investors when he glanced down at the time. Three o’clock. Two hours to go. Then came a knock at the door.

  Lukas pushed the door open. “Hey Josh.”

  “Hey Lukas.” There was an unusual lack of smiling from his manager, but it was the end of the week and they had all been flat out for a while.

  “We need to have a chat.”

  Josh was still stuck in editing mode. It was probably about the investors. They needed the job to be finished earlier than expected. Or, Mark had finally resigned and his workload was being redistributed across the board.

  Lukas came in and closed the door.

  Josh’s heart rate spiked. Lukas never had closed door meetings. Nor did he usually pull rank.

  You’re overreacting, Josh told himself. It may be bad news, but it’s not going to be terrible news.

  Lukas pulled out one of the chairs pushed against the side of the wall and sat down. “So listen, we’ve been behind the pace for a while. Lewis and the others have been working extra hours to help pick up the slack. The problem we’re having is this extra slack is largely coming you.”

  There was definitely a thump in his chest, a crunch, like he had just slammed into someone at a set of traffic lights. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been that.

  Lukas continued. “Your pace has suffered. We’ve noticed it over the last two months. Now, we do see you put in the hours. You’re here eight hours a day and you clock off at five thirty every day, but the amount of work you’re actually getting done is less than what it used to be. You’re out having a chat with the girls, and, look, if all the work gets done on time I couldn’t care less who you have a chat with or how long it goes on for, but it isn’t getting done and you’ve had to hand jobs over to others. Sometimes we’ve had to pull work away from you on your behalf as well because you still haven’t caught up. Do you have any feedback on this?”

  Josh was sure he must have looked like a deer in headlights, because of all the conversations he expected to have at work, his inability to handle his workload was not one of them. “I didn’t realise I was behind.”

  Lukas nodded to the calendar that should have been on Josh’s desk. Instead, it was nowhere to be found. “You’ve got the roster somewhere in here. I know we often pawn jobs onto other people, we do it almost every week, but no one has actually pawned anything onto you in over a month. You’ve had to give it to others. It started to slip two months ago but certainly over the last month the work hasn’t been getting done.”

  Josh did his best not to squirm, but even so his work ethic had never been called into question before. “I can put in the extra hours to catch up ...”

  “Perhaps we can look at reducing your distractions at work,” said Lukas.

  His chest contracted again. “I’ll put in the hours and catch up.”

  “Good,” said Lukas. “So look, we like you here, it’s not the end of the world, everyone has a poor day every now and then. That said, once in a while everyone needs a kick up the arse. Do you have any thoughts on the matter? Anything that can help you catch up?”

  “Just … I can put in more hours.”

  “I’d appreciate that. We’re not asking for miracles here, it’s just we know you’re more capable than this. I know it’s late in the day, but have a think about it. The next time you’re in I’d like to see more of the old Josh. Lead by example, you know?”

  “Yeah,” Josh mumbled.

  “Good.” Lukas stuck his hand out, shook Josh’s hand, returned the chair to the wall, and left.

  Josh turned to face the screen again. His breathing remained shallow, his lungs knocked against his ribs, and through some dizzying moment he wondered just how absolutely tiny he looked right then and there. Through every argument in the shower between himself and VizCuts he had always found a way to tell them to fuck off about his relationship with Brooke, or that he was long overdue for some time off and that this was the first time in over a year that he had taken a sick day. Not once did he consider that they would attack his work ethic.

  Not once did he even consider they would be right to do so.

  So … this is karma, he told himself.

  63

  Ian

  The whole house had been at breaking point the last month. His mother double and triple checked every window, door, and lock several times a day. Since he could no longer be trusted to stay home and keep himself out of trouble while she went to work Ian was forced to endure his grandparent’s place from eight in the morning until six at night. There was only so much daytime TV he could watch before going insane.

  There was now a security system installed throughout the house, set at all times to cover every point of possible entry into the house. That meant that as soon as the heat made the windows flex, the alarm went off and Claire would fly into a fit. If she wasn’t home the no
ise would piss off the neighbours and the security company would have to call her and ask a set of security questions before they could remotely disengage the alarm.

  Ian and his grandpa walked to the library twice a week, where Ian was introduced to the longest books possible. Whenever he could, Ian snuck online or scoured the newspaper for any update in Zofia’s case. Day by day he was sure the police would report that three teenage boys had had sex with her and had left their semen inside. Everything seemed to return to James. With one simple confession to the police he could ruin Ian, Daniel, and Warrick.

  The month of being locked inside also meant that his secret stash of bras, knickers, and videos had to remain hidden away. The pressure of knowing that school was coming up and that his mum was going to clean his room from top to bottom ate at Ian’s conscience. He started to walk with a pair of knickers in his pocket, so that whenever chance occurred he could find a bin that was clear of any witnesses.

  On the last Saturday of the holidays, Ian and his mum headed out for his school supplies for the upcoming term. There didn’t seem to be much point in going back to school if he was going to be killed in prison by the end of the year. As soon as they were on the driveway Claire pulled the handbrake up and hit the remote to close the garage door.

  “Pass my sunglasses will you, sweetie?” Claire asked.

  Ian leaned forward, popped open the glove box, and did as was requested. As she put them on and fixed her hair in the mirror, Ian caught sight of James McIntyre standing on the pavement next to their house. James stared back at Ian with a deep seeded glare. James raised his right hand and fired off an imaginary gun. Ian quickly shook his head. James glared again and walked away.

  “Okay, do you have the list?” asked Claire.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Sit up straight. Slouching is bad for your posture.” She put the car back into reverse and edged out onto the street.

  Ian’s pulse, meanwhile, skipped along at a hundred miles an hour. The gun was still buried under the hedge in the field by the valley. Ian realised that of course James would be looking for it. It was his, after all, but there was no way any of them were willing to dig it up and return it to him.

  All through the ride to the shops, Ian imagined James breaking into their house and ransacking the place, looking for his gun, and doing whatever damage he thought was necessary to get it back. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Daniel and Warrick.

  ‘Den man was at my house, looking for SW. Is he going to break in?’

  Daniel was the only one to respond. ‘He might.’

  Ian didn’t find that response remotely encouraging. He would have to fortify his bedroom as best he could. He would sleep with a whistle, or an air horn, and find a way to barricade his door.

  He then had visions of his mother being abducted, led to the empty house, and being used in the same way by James’ friends. Ian glanced over at his mum while she drove and was grateful she couldn’t read his mind.

  64

  Warrick

  Warrick stared at his bedroom ceiling. The street light from outside seemed to move back and forth as the leaves of the tree oscillated against the wind.

  School was starting again in the morning. Very few people in town knew that Daniel and Ian found Zofia first, but everyone knew that Warrick had. And that he had run for his life from the Beast. And that he had walked half way to London with a concussion. There would be questions. Endless questions. And he still didn’t know what Daniel or Ian had said to the police.

  When sleep seemed impossible that night, he climbed out of bed, popped open his side window, climbed out, and sat on the roof of the garage to clear his thoughts. Or, at least, put them in some kind of order.

  He was mostly hidden from the street below. Between the height of garage roof, the row of oak trees, and that he was sitting at the far end of the house, no one would be able to see him. He reached back to his desk, pulled out Emily’s diary, and toyed with finding a way to dispose of it. That and everything else he had amassed over the weeks.

  He had stolen underwear from Claire, Emily, and from half of the neighbours along the street by going through their laundry as it hung on the line. He couldn’t remember who owned what so there was no way he could return any of it. He also had videos of several women which would be the death of him if he was ever caught. And caught he would be. He could feel it in his stomach, gnawing away at him. Not even fading into a daydream settled the scuttling fears in his gut.

  The worst of it all, he was sure, was the diary he had liberated from Daniel’s sister. The only reason he never told Daniel or Ian was because they would tell him diaries were as dull as bat shit drying on a rock. There was nothing in a diary they could jerk off to. James certainly wouldn’t find any of it interesting either.

  Warrick had waited in Daniel’s room while his two friends tried to figure out how best to hide a camera in the bathroom. This went on for several minutes. Warrick noticed that Emily’s door was partially open across the hall. He poked his head inside to see if there was a free set of knickers lying on the ground. There were several. The excitement climbed through Warrick’s groin as he took his pick of a sixteen year old’s unmentionables, then he started looking for more.

  In his search he uncovered a small container of what looked like moisturiser, a prescription for the pill, and lo and behold: a pack of condoms. Then, in the bottom drawer of the bedside table was a stack of diaries. Warrick hardly cared when he first found them, not until an inescapable word came to him: secrets.

  The secrets of a sex-frenzied sixteen year old would be worth something. He picked at the first diary and was disappointed to see that it began at the start of the school holidays, so there wasn’t any point in going through that. The second, though, contained several key words that seized Warrick’s attention and held his thirteen year old imagination captive.

  Bra, sex, and orgasm were littered throughout. One passage in particular gave Warrick an erection, where Emily described one of her fantasies with someone called Mark. It rattled Warrick’s mind to think that the Mark he knew, one of the footballers from school, might be the same person. Then again there were plenty of Mark’s in the world. Without a single hesitation Warrick slipped the diary under his shirt and never bothered to tell Ian or Daniel about it.

  The first few entries were a revelation to read as Warrick discovered that he had access to the inner workings of a girl’s mind.

  Why did no one tell me just how horny I was going to be while on the rag??? Five days, ten pads, and every time I cross my legs I get a tingle along my clit and a flash through my chest. Christ, how does something make me so paranoid, as though I’m about to blow out a river from under my skirt, and yet keep me turned on for so frickin’ long? If I didn’t get myself off twice a day I think I would explode.

  In another entry: All of the guys keep staring at Rebecca’s tits. There’s a rumour going around that she’s an E cup. I know she started it. She’s a D at best and wears a padded bra. She might even be a C cup, the lying cow.

  Then: I have no idea what to believe. Apparently an average boy’s dick is either five inches, five and a half, six, or six and a half long, and between four inches and six inches around. There was a video at Brent’s and there was no way that guy’s dick was five inches. It looked like a slab of salami. How the hell is something that big supposed to fit inside someone??? Even the thought of it ... mehugh.

  And: Ha! Louise saw Brent naked! He had a tiny floppy little thing! She said it was the size of her little finger and she’s gone around telling everyone how tiny his dick is!

  That inspired Warrick to go and measure himself. The results were discouraging.

  He sat on the garage roof with the diary sitting against his knees. He had managed to keep it and his stash a secret for the last few weeks, but that would all change the moment he went to school. His mum would go through his entire room, top to bottom, the second she got back home. She would f
ind the diary with Emily’s name scrawled across it. She would find the cache of underwear. That would inspire her to check his computer. He had to get rid of the movies, the underwear, and the diaries. He could put the movies onto a small memory stick. Those were certainly easier to hide. There was a crack in the brick work under his window. If he chiselled that out a bit more the memory stick would fit in there. The underwear and diary would be less easy to hide, so they had to go. He could ditch both in a bin down the street, but that ran the risk of being found by someone who wasn’t expecting an extra couple of bags of garbage in their bin. Plus, his fingerprints were already over everything. He would have to cut up the underwear so that it was no longer identifiable. Then he would have to burn the diary.

  Warrick climbed back into his room, grabbed the stash of underwear, a pair of scissors, threw it all into a backpack, and climbed down the side of the garage. The sun wasn’t going to rise for another hour and a half. He had time.

  He had planned on burning the diary near St. Bart’s, but as he headed through the school he became absolutely certain that a teacher would see him. He needed another plan. The wind had picked up and he didn’t like the idea of ripping out the pages, setting them alight, and then watching them float up into the air. They wouldn’t burn all the way through. Someone would find them and it wouldn’t take the police long to figure out that Warrick was the arsonist responsible. They would find out who originally owned the diary. They would realise that he stole it. Then they would find her underwear with his prints on it, and videos of her on a memory stick in his bedroom. He was already famous enough for finding a dead woman in a tunnel.

  His heart quickened and his vision clouded over. He forced himself to focus on a gentle song to keep himself sane.

  The far end of the street curved into Lonsdale Street. There lay a string of shops with heavy duty dumpsters. It would have to do.

  Warrick hurried along, realising that with every step he was losing precious darkness to hide him. A bead of sweat dangled under his armpit and ran down his side as he trotted forward. He reached the first bin, pulled on the lid, and nearly cried in dismay. They were all chained and padlocked to stop vagrants from going through them.