Wreck

by Fleur Ferris

  ‘Now. Tell. Me. Everything!’

  I go to the door and remove the spare key from under a rock in the pot plant.

  Nerves grip me as I open the door. Relle follows me in and we stand in the hallway staring at the mess.

  ‘Freaking hell.’ Relle looks at me.

  ‘The last time I stood in this exact spot someone was holding a gun to my head,’ I tell her. She gasps as I bend down to my handbag and start going through the contents that have been spilled onto the floor. I pick up my phone and see missed calls and messages from Relle and other school friends.

  The look on Relle’s face is absolute horror.

  ‘I’m okay,’ I say. ‘Shaken, but okay.’

  Tears gloss over Relle’s eyes. ‘You must have been terrified.’

  ‘C’mon,’ I say. ‘I’ll fill you in on the whole story.’ She follows me to the kitchen, pulls out a barstool and sits down. I turn on the kettle.

  ‘Tea?’ I say. She knows I mean peppermint because it’s the only tea I drink.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  While I make and drink tea I bring Relle up to date. She asks questions along the way, taking in everything, pondering certain details, crying for Simon and Darryl.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ I ask. ‘Is Zel crazy or is Knox evil?’

  ‘How did Knox or the police explain the second person here? The first guy who held a gun to your head?’

  ‘They didn’t. They think Zel was the only one here. During the interview the detectives asked loads of questions to verify that I didn’t actually see two people at once. They even asked me that directly, “Did you see two men at the same time?” I had to say no. But I heard two. Is that something I could mistake?’

  ‘Let’s say Zel was the only person here. The two voices, the first one deeper and gruffer than the second? Yes, I do think that is possible.’ Relle drops her voice. ‘Don’t move!’ Then she says it again in a higher, breezier voice. She’s right. The two voices don’t sound the same.

  ‘All right, I’ll give them that,’ I say. ‘But what about the sound of two men fighting?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s harder, but again, not impossible. You can certainly fake groans and the sound of a punch. You could thud against the wall. It’s possible.’

  ‘Okay, say it was one person, then. Why would Zel try to pretend there were two people? And how did he know I wasn’t climbing out the bathroom window? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘So you’d believe him. His story. To rescue you and gain your trust. Police were closing in on him and he needed an ally,’ Relle says.

  It’s not what I want to hear, and it must show on my face.

  ‘I’m not saying that’s what happened. I’m just saying it’s possible to fool someone, to make them believe they are two people instead of one, and that Zel had reason for wanting to do that.’

  ‘But why would he make up all that stuff about Christian and Knox in the first place?’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t make it up. Maybe he really believes it and convinced himself over the years that that’s what happened. My cousin had a drug-induced psychosis and travelled halfway around the world thinking people were after him. When his parents finally found him and got him assessed and medicated he no longer believed it. Again, I’m not saying that you have been fooled by Zel, I’m just saying Knox’s story is possible.’

  ‘If we’re assuming Zel’s story is a delusion, then are we assuming he killed Simon and Darryl?’

  ‘Maybe he went there to look for the note and they found him there. Maybe they were going to call the police … I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t kill them. Maybe it really was a murder-suicide.’ She stalls for a moment. ‘No one can say for certain what went on behind closed doors.’

  ‘No way. Never. Not in a million years will I ever believe that Darryl killed Simon and then himself.’

  ‘Yeah, and you see people on the news shocked by the atrocities of loved ones every day.’

  She’s right, of course. ‘There are so many unanswered questions,’ I say. ‘Darryl said he was going to notify the police. Why hadn’t they already been to pick up the note? Why was it still at the office?’

  Relle shrugs. ‘Maybe he was delayed for some reason. Maybe the police didn’t think the note was that important and had more urgent things to take care of first. Maybe they contacted the task force about it and they said they would handle it. I don’t know,’ Relle says. ‘We can only guess.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, stepping away from the murder-suicide notion. ‘Now let’s look at Zel’s side of the story. Two men were here, Zel rescued me, Knox is desperate to keep something that happened five years ago on that island covered up, playing the wounded and concerned big brother, but really he is behind the murder of Simon and Darryl, and both he and the killer are still out there. What then?’

  Relle considers what I say very carefully. ‘It’s not impossible …’ Her voice falters.

  ‘I know you believe Knox,’ I say, ‘and I see why. He is so convincing. His story is easier to believe. He’s rich and powerful –’

  ‘And sane.’

  ‘And sane,’ I agree. ‘And he has the police on his side. But you haven’t met Zel. He’s different to Knox, but equally as convincing. And Knox being sane doesn’t mean he’s not lying.’

  ‘True. So what do you do? If Knox’s story is true, you do nothing, right? Let the police do their thing. But what if Zel’s story is true? What should you do then?’

  I don’t know the answer. Maybe I’m resisting the truth because I want to be right about Zel. People disregard fact and believe what suits them all the time. When I was at the paper, people would send in the craziest responses to articles. I laughed at them. I thought, how could they believe that? How could they possibly come to that conclusion? Now, here I am, no different to them, all because I don’t want to admit to the world I am dumb and gullible and believed a crazed killer. And that I like him.

  I look around the house and the thought of cleaning up exhausts me. It’s like Relle reads my mind.

  ‘How about we go home to my place, have dinner, go to bed, then come back in the morning,’ she suggests.

  ‘That’s an excellent idea,’ I say. ‘Especially the bit about going to bed.’

  I shove the contents of my bag back into it and we close the door behind us. I breathe in the cool ocean air and relish the feeling of the breeze on my face. After what happened I’m noticing everything I love, looking at things with fresh eyes, so grateful to be here. My mind is in constant replay. Zel had ample opportunity to kill me, but he didn’t. At no stage did he ever threaten to hurt me, even when he carried me from the house. Even then he told me he was saving me. The questions keep coming, but no answers.

  I don’t know whose version of the truth is real, but I’m grateful for the bit about me being alive to ponder it.

  ‘Mum’s expecting us,’ Relle says. ‘She didn’t know about Darryl and Simon. After she dropped off the costume she drove to Port Hampton for work.’ Relle’s mum does emergency teaching and sometimes travels to neighbouring towns for the work. She would have left early.

  ‘It would have been a shock for everyone to find out, the whole town,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah. Most people would know by now,’ Relle says.

  Every time I think about Simon and Darryl, it’s like being hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. My heart actually hurts, it’s physical pain. Simon’s face is still clear in my mind, his frozen stare. His killer would have been the last thing he saw.

  The tears keep coming as my grief hits me in waves, like the ocean. This makes me think of Zel being shipwrecked, pounded by wind and rain and rising with giant ocean swells, and how terrifying it must have been. Some of Zel’s family endured it with life jackets on, Christian without. Did Christian survive the storm only to be left to die?

  Relle stays close, letting me talk about anything on my mind.

  ‘And then, getting abducted like that … I thought Zel was goin
g to kill me,’ I say. ‘My head was under my doona, I was tied up and thrown into the back seat of the car, but he kept saying he was sorry and he would release me when it was safe.’ Relle’s already heard all of this. I’ve expressed my disbelief, my shock, yet I can’t stop myself from telling her everything again. It all seems too unbelievable now. These things don’t happen to people like me. Things like this only happen to strangers in foreign places.

  ‘You need to talk about it. It’s everything you’re saying. Terrifying – and so hard to believe.’ Relle says what she said last time as if it’s the first time she’s heard the story. ‘You should look into some counselling.’

  Relle fell in love with counselling four years ago, after her grandfather died. She says the things she talked about with the school counsellor will help her for the rest of her life. At the end of year twelve, the school surveyed us for recommendations for improvements to the school. Relle’s suggestion was compulsory counselling for all students, to help them cope with life in general. Everyone goes to Relle for advice, so it’s no surprise she’s studying psychology this year.

  ‘Let’s detour and walk along the beach,’ I say.

  We cut through a small reserve and the sound of the waves brings a sense of calm. I wish I had my board. Looking back at the beach from out there is my favourite place in the world. It releases something inside me, a sense of freedom and tranquillity. It’s the only place I ever feel like that.

  As we hit the sand we both remove our thongs and carry them. We walk down to the water and paddle. The water is always so cold at first. My eyes fixate on the Rubbish Rocks and my heart starts to race. It’s as if Relle can sense a shift in me.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asks, following my gaze.

  ‘The note was real. I don’t believe Zel fabricated it and put it there. It was sun-damaged – you can’t fake that easily. The ink had faded to white. It took both Darryl and I to unroll it and the paper was discoloured in a way that could only have been done over time. Time was sitting in that bottle. It was so fragile.’ As I say the words, it’s like the silt that was shaken up in my mind has finally settled and I have clarity.

  We stand on the rocks, looking at the waves breaking against them, at the rubbish swirling, trapped. I’ve collected rubbish from there for years, ever since I did Nippers. I know about old, faded, floating-in-the-ocean-for-a-long-time rubbish. I know what old, faded, floating-in-the-ocean-for-a-long-time rubbish looks like. A chill passes through me and makes the hair on my arms stand on end.

  ‘The note was real.’ I step towards Relle and grab hold of her arm. ‘Relle,’ I say. ‘The police suspect Zel is placing the notes, but he isn’t. That note had been in the sun for a long time. It had been rolled up for a long time. Rolled up and baking.’ My words come quick and urgent. ‘Can you make paper look like that in any other way?’

  ‘Did Darryl question it?’

  ‘No. None of us questioned it at the time. Darryl even knew about the boating accident and said the Chisels were shonky.’

  ‘He actually said that?’

  ‘He may have said “stinky”.’ We giggle.

  ‘That’s something Darryl would have said.’ Relle smiles. ‘But surely you don’t think Christian is still alive somewhere?’

  ‘Who would know?’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  I think hard about this because my options seem so limited. The police believe Knox, there is no doubting that. Sergeant Wheldon might believe me. He seemed really nice and I don’t think he questioned my innocence at any stage.

  ‘What do you think will happen to Zel if he’s caught?’ Relle asks.

  ‘Not sure. Maybe Knox would have him certified as insane or delusional … maybe they’d drug him up and keep him locked away.’

  ‘And what does the family believe?’ Relle asks. ‘They were on the island too. They must know what happened out there. What do they think?’

  ‘Good question.’ It gets me thinking about a conversation I had with Zel. ‘I told Zel to go to Christian’s parents for help. Zel was reluctant to contact them, but maybe I should.’

  Relle considers her words for a moment. ‘At the end of the day, you have to know you’ve done the right thing so you can sleep at night. If that means contacting Christian’s parents, out of concern for their nephew, then I think you should do it.’

  ‘What do you believe?’ I figure she doesn’t believe Zel.

  She looks to the sky and then to me. ‘Honestly? I don’t know. But Knox’s story does seem more believable. It’s so much easier to believe that Zel’s grief caused him to become mentally ill than it is to believe that Knox is a murderer. He just doesn’t give off that vibe.’

  ‘But has Zel been diagnosed with anything?’

  Relle stares at me. ‘That doesn’t mean –’

  ‘We don’t know. And yes, his story is less believable than Knox’s, and he could be delusional or whatever, but I’m not. I’m sane, and I have to go with my gut instinct. A more believable story could be the reason why someone gets away with murder.’ I realise what I just said. ‘Literally in this case.’

  ‘Do you really think Knox is a murderer? He’s got so much to lose.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I say. ‘Way too much to lose. If it came out that he was responsible for the death of his cousin he’d lose everything.’

  Relle nods slowly.

  ‘How far would Knox Chisel go to cover up the worst thing he has ever done?’

  I can see I’ve convinced her that Zel’s story is possible, but her mind is ticking over about what it might mean. After a long silence, when the colour has left Relle’s cheeks, she looks at me.

  ‘If you’re right, what do we do? How do two teenage girls from a sleepy little beach town take on someone like Knox Chisel?’

  Portia comes to our house most days, waiting for news. She goes to Selena and Oliver’s, too, but she seems to be getting the most comfort from Knox. He’s being super nice, and not just to Portia, either. If I wasn’t reminded of what a bastard he is every time I look into a mirror and see the yellowing bruise around my eye, I may have trusted that he was genuinely trying to change for good. But he has an agenda. The business for starters, and of course Portia. Christian had both, now Knox is trying to be Christian.

  Mum makes up a spare room for Portia and tells her she can stay over whenever she wants. She stays sometimes, other times Knox drives her home. He stays sober so he can do this at any hour of the day. He is at her service.

  He has Mum fooled too.

  Yesterday, I heard them laughing, then there was the sad pause that follows all merriment in our house now.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Mum asked, and I could tell she really meant it.

  ‘I don’t know. Sometimes okay, but I keep expecting him to walk through the door,’ said Knox. ‘I’m not sure I really believe it yet. I just wish I could do something. Do more. I keep thinking … I keep thinking it should have been me.’

  ‘Oh, no, never think that,’ said Mum. ‘You are not responsible for what happened. And I can’t tell you what it means to your father, to see you step up and move into the business like you have.’

  ‘I just want to help, you know. Something inside me shifted that day on the island. Something changed.’

  I couldn’t stand to listen to any more so I stood up and walked through the room towards the fridge. Mum turned to face me.

  ‘Are you right, love?’

  Behind her, Knox flipped me the bird and pulled a face.

  Nothing inside him has changed. I shook my head and went to my bedroom.

  I lay on my bed and the scene on the beach played out in my mind over and over. I saw Knox dash towards something at the same time I heard the rescue plane. What did he see? What made him move so fast?

  I know better than to mention that I saw him pick up Portia’s bag. I’m not mistaken about that. What did he do with it and why didn’t he give it back to her?

  My bedroom door opene
d and shut so quickly that Knox was on me before I realised what was happening. My pillow was wrenched out from under my head and pressed hard onto my face. I couldn’t breathe. His knee thudded into my stomach so hard that all the air was expelled from my lungs. The pillow pressed down harder.

  ‘Unless you want your other eye punched right out of its fucking socket, you won’t shake your head at me like that again. You screw with me in even the smallest fucking way and you’ll pay.’

  Even though I knew it would do nothing, I flailed, trying to free my face, to get his knee out of my guts, to breathe. He heaved his weight onto my chest and stomach one more time, then he was gone.

  I pulled the pillow away from my face, gasping for air. I sat up on the bed. I had to get away from him.

  Death scene: Knox’s heart spontaneously explodes.

  The school year has only just started. Last year I told Dad I wanted to go to boarding school in Melbourne this year, the same school he went to. I had been accepted, the paperwork was signed. Dad was really chuffed I wanted to go to his old school and had everything arranged. Then at the last minute, given that Knox wouldn’t be at school anymore, I decided to stay in Sydney. Dad was furious because he had pulled strings to get me in, but Mum backed me.

  I wish I’d gone. Knox seems to be home more now that he’s at uni and it’s harder to avoid him.

  I lie back onto my bed, stare at the ceiling and think about what it might be like to move far away from Knox. To be able to relax in bed and know he won’t burst in. When I hear Knox’s door, I sneak out onto my balcony and watch him leave. Then I go downstairs. Mum and Dad are sitting in the lounge opposite the kitchen.

  I join them on the sofa.

  ‘I know it’s not a good time, but I’ve changed my mind about boarding school,’ I say. ‘I want to go. I think I need to.’

  Mum leans towards me and places her hand on my arm. ‘It might not be the right time, after everything that’s happened. You need your family. Why don’t we think about it again next year?’

  Dad is staring at me. His face turns red. ‘What?’

  I figure this is definitely not the time for this conversation.