by Belle Brooks
His hand rubs over his mouth and chin. “Well, your first mistake, miss, is you’ve jacked the car up before you’ve taken the wheel nuts off.” He holds back further laughter behind strained lips. “You need to loosen the wheel first, you see, then jack it up.” His eyes become glued to mine again, but this time they seem to be a light shade of green. There’s something about them that suddenly frightens me, so I shake my head to break contact.
“Yep, I’m clueless,” I say, rather embarrassed, before turning on my heel and opening the driver’s door. The rain continues its assault with such force I leave my head bent inside the vehicle whilst my body remains exposed to the elements. With teeth chattering and knees shaking, brought on by the sudden gusting wind blowing through my thin top, I admit defeat.
“Must call Reid,” I say, through frozen lips. Clutching my phone, I wait impatiently as it rings. “Answer the damn phone already, Reid.”
“It’s seven past seven, so I guess you’re calling to say you won’t make it, right?” he hisses.
Has he been watching the clock?
“Well, no …” His tone annoys me. “I’ve got a flat tyre, and I’m about fifteen minutes from home. Some mechanic guy has pulled over to help me change it, and as soon as he’s finished I’ll be there.”
“Oh, a flat, right. Nice excuse, but you’ve broken your promise yet again.” His voice is a mixture of anger and despair. As if I would make this up.
“I do have a flat tyre, Reid. Stop being so mean.” Tears threaten to spill, and my lip begins to quiver as my body shakes from more exposure to gusting and icy wind. When did he begin to despise me so much? “I’m fifteen minutes away. I can’t go anywhere until it’s fixed.”
He huffs. “And you didn’t think to call me for help?”
“Well yes … I did. But before I got to the phone, this guy pulled over.”
“Sure you did! And that’s being really safe, by the way. You know it’s pissing down rain, right? And it’s dark out, yeah? I can’t believe you let a complete stranger come to your aid over calling me … What were you thinking?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I stand there in shock, willing this day to end.
“Where are you exactly? Shit, Morgan, I’m coming to get you.”
“No!” I snap. “I can fix this on my own. I’d never put myself in any danger. You know I wouldn’t; calm down, please. I will be home soon. It’s nearly done anyway.” I hoped the conversation would end there. But boy, was I wrong.
“You’re still a wife and a mother, Morgan. You need to start getting your priorities right and learn to multitask better.”
“Reid, just stop!”
“Dinner is getting cold while we wait for you. Or did you forget about family meal time?”
“Just eat, Reid,” I yell louder than I had meant. “I’m almost home.” I bite at my still-quivering lip, finally stopping the trembling. A gentle tap on my shoulder alerts me to look back over my shoulder.
“Excuse me, miss, it’s all done. The new tyre is on and the flat is in the boot, so you’re good to go.” His gaze has an air of pity to it. I guess he’s heard the conversation I’m having with my very angry husband. I lower the phone and place it down upon the seat.
“Thank you so much; I really appreciate everything you’ve done. I’ll give you some money for your time.” I rotate on my heel before tilting my chin downwards. I need to locate my wallet, hoping I have at least a fifty inside, but before I manage to duck my head into the car he speaks.
“No, no, it’s fine.” He waves his hands in front of him. “If you can’t help someone in need, then you’re not a nice person, are you?” His eyebrows raise with his question.
“Thank you so much.”
“No worries, miss. Hope your night turns around. You better get home and dry off before you catch a cold.” His eyes stare into mine briefly before scanning me from head to toe.
I feel awkward when I too shift my sight downwards only to remember my shirt has become completely see-through. Had to wear a soft silk blouse today, didn’t you, Morgan?
Crossing my hands over my chest to prevent any further exploration, I smile with a degree of unease. “Okay … yes, home. You should get home, too. Sorry for getting you out in the rain.” My hands still protect my unplanned exposure as my teeth clasp my lip between them.
He laughs before turning back in the direction of where he parked. “It’s about to be a bloody fierce storm, I think,” he calls back to me.
I don’t answer. Instead, I awkwardly clamber into my car, clasping my phone, and plonking my soaked bottom onto the leather seat. Reid’s muffled voice can be heard dimly shouting my name, so I rest the phone back against my ear.
“Reid.”
“Sorry, Morgan. I’m sorry; I’m tired. Come home, sweetheart. We will wait for you.” Fatigue plagues his own words, and I relax as his tone sweetens.
The phone slips momentarily from my wet hands, but I manage to juggle it into the crook of my neck. “Please, don’t wait. It’s fine, start dinner without me. Don’t let it get cold. It’s all fixed up now. It shouldn’t take me too long to get home if traffic is on my side.” My tired body slumps further into the seat.
“Okay, see you soon, sweetheart. Take your time; it’s pouring out there.” I’m comforted by his concern.
The seatbelt slides with ease over my chest, and my body continues to shiver as it clicks into place. I extend my arm and turn off the air conditioner due to its cold blast against my wet clothing, before switching the indicators over. A quick shoulder-check has me heading back into the slowed traffic. I’m wet and cold, even with the air conditioner off, but my eagerness to get home to a steaming-hot shower distracts me from my iced state.
“Nearly there, Morgan. A few streets now,” I say, through chattering teeth, as I enter the outskirts of our estate. I need a hot shower.
BANG!
My body jolts forward as the car veers into bushy grassland.
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I yell from the top of my lungs before the airbag deploys, smothering my continuing foul rant. Someone has run up the arse of my fucking car. Yep, this night is officially the worst night in history. Swinging open the door in a rage, I attempt to stomp down its length. I stumble and fall as each step finds a piece of uneven ground for me to trip on. All I want to do is give this bastard a piece of my mind.
“You’re about to get the biggest tongue lashing, arsehole,” I bellow in fury.
A crippling pain thuds in my head, and a multitude of colours dance behind my eyes. Stay away from the darkness. It’s too strong.
Reid
Officer Stratt places his hand on my shoulder as I vomit pieces of rice and chicken up onto the grass.
“Morgan,” I choke out between one mouthful of my wretched-smelling stomach contents.
"Are you alright, Reid?" the officer asks.
My eyes dart upwards and connect with his dark globes under the dull street lamp. "Do I look like I'm okay?" My voice is strained.
He shakes his head.
“Where’s my wife? Where’s Morgan?"
“We don't know right now, but don’t worry, we’ll find her."
"Yeah, great job you've done so far,” I hiss. “You ignored my pleas and insinuated my wife was with a friend—I’m not dumb, I know what you were implying. She’s not cheating on me. Got it?”
He shakes his head.
“You don’t know my wife. You don’t know us. She isn’t cheating on me. She isn’t …" My heart aches. It's a despondent pain that is constant and a reminder of how much I love this woman. Morgan, my wife. My soul. The missing link to my existence. Without her I’m nothing but a hollow and broken vessel. And as much as I’m defending Morgan in front of these officers, I can’t be sure if my defence is warranted. I’m still uncertain if she’s been unfaithful, and right now I have no way to ask her, because I still don’t know where she is.
"Reid, it’s our job to investigate all possibilities as to where
Morgan might be. We’re taking this matter very seriously, okay?”
I lift my weight with every ounce of strength I can muster. I stand flush in front of Stratt with my finger outstretched and poking it a mere inch from his chest. "You weren't going to do anything until the morning. You were brushing me off. I know my wife. I know my wife,” I repeat, my words spitting like venom off my tongue.
Maloney appears out of nowhere, wrapping his hand gently around my finger before lowering it slowly to my side. "Reid, you’re very upset and frightened—”
“For fuck’s sake.”
“Reid.” He pauses. I can tell he’s trying to think of the right words to say. For me there are none. “You’re not helping us find Morgan when you act like this. It’s understandable you’re pissed off. Hell, if it was me I’d be the same way, but you need to calm down before you do something stupid, mate."
For Morgan, I would do many stupid things.
I grunt, before pacing back and forth. I can’t dispel my distress, or is it anguish? My shaking hands find their way into my hair just as the rain softens.
"This is Morgan’s car." Maloney’s peering through her back window.
“Yes. God, you pigs are frustrating … Do you think I’d be reacting like this if it wasn’t? Would you like me to do your job? It’s apparent you have no fuckin’ clue how.” As I approach, his eyes narrow, his own anger building.
Maloney swallows hard and manages to keep control when he says, "Reid, I’m just stating my observation.”
"Fuck,” I snap.
He grasps the police radio from the holster on his sleeve and begins to talk into it. “Dispatch, RK-242.”
“Yes, RK-242, go ahead.”
“Constable Maloney here. We have located the car of Morgan Banks, a possible missing person. Vehicle is abandoned. Mr Reid Banks, husband of Morgan Banks, reported her missing earlier this evening and has now located her vehicle. Plate number is Bravo. Alpha. November. Kilo. Sierra. Zero. Two. There’s rear damage––air bag has deployed. We are going to need CIB and Soco here; there’s blood on the scene. We will also need the fire brigade to disable the remaining air bags.”
The radio makes a crackling noise before a soft female voice comes through. “RK-242, we will get the Criminal Investigation Bureau out and send Scenes of Crimes as requested. Fire brigade has now been dispatched. There’s other road patrol units in the area … they are now on the way to your location. They’re responding quickly to this comm call.”
“Thanks.” Maloney places the radio back into his holster whilst scanning the environment surrounding us. I watch as his eyes shift a swift left and slowly travel to the right.
Leaning against the cold and wet metal street post, I continue to keep my sight planted on Maloney. With a twist on his heel, he starts back in the direction of Morgan’s car. Why isn’t he combing through it? Why isn’t he looking for evidence?
Where’s Stratt? I’m unsure how he managed to move out of my line of sight so fast. “You’re shitting me,” I groan as I find him only a few metres away, on the other side of the street talking on his mobile phone. Get off your phone, pig.
It’s only a matter of seconds before Stratt lowers his damn mobile, crosses the road, and heads straight over to where Maloney is still circling around Morgan’s car with a torch.
“DDO officer is coming, Max.”
“Good,” Maloney replies.
Who’s DDO?
“Who the fuck or what the fuck is a DDO?” I pinch the bridge of my nose as I stand less than a metre from them, not sure if I was supposed to be privy to such information.
“District Duty Officer, Reid. They’re our bosses. We’re first on the scene. Our job now is to secure this site and wait for the people who handle these types of scenes and the investigations that follow.”
“Useless, like I thought.”
“Come on, mate. I know you’re having the worst night of your life, but this is protocol and what is going to bring your wife home.” Maloney remains calm as he tries to settle me. No matter what I’ve thrown at them, they continue doing their job. Maybe I should lay off them a bit.
Twisting, I look out to the crossroad and find it odd how quiet it is. My legs become heavy like dead weights, and my body has the sudden urge to crumble into a helpless heap. Images of Morgan hurt, flash through my mind and danger alerts within me. I find it hard to control the need to run aimlessly in search of her. I think, wherever she is, she is long gone.
Stratt and Maloney both have torches drawn when I shift my attention back to them.
“I’ll get the tape out and seal it off,” Stratt says to Maloney, before shining a narrow beam of light out into the open vacant lot.
"What are you doing?” I snap.
"We are going to search and secure the perimeter,” Stratt says.
Oh God! Why did I not think to look out into the overgrowth?
I rush toward them. Stratt turns and shines the light straight into my eyes. They burn, and are forced closed from the shine. I’m blinded, and it causes me to stop dead in my tracks.
"What are you doing, Reid?" Stratt’s deep voice is stern and forceful.
I place my hand above my eyes to shield them from the light as my head tilts to the side. "I need to look for my wife ... I can help. Six eyes are better than four, right? I’m going to check all this open land here. She might have stumbled out there."
Stratt whispers something to his partner before lowering the torch from my face. “Not a chance, mate. This is a crime scene. Nobody’s setting foot through this overgrowth until the teams are here.”
"You can’t stop me,” I grunt.
“I’ll arrest you, Reid. Don’t make me cuff you—”
“Look, mate, how about you and I have a smoke, calm down and get our head together while we wait?” Maloney interrupts, indicating for me to walk in the direction of his outstretched arm.
“I don’t smoke, and stop calling me mate. I’m not your fucking mate. My wife could be in the long grass. She could have been trying to get help and collapsed. I’m looking. Got it?” I march away from his direction.
“Reid. Stop.”
“Fuck you.”
The smell of wet cement after a storm fills my senses as I continue my lack of care for law enforcement and their pathetic codes and bullshit––shouldn’t they do everything they can to try and help my wife, instead of waiting for more dickheads to arrive? Part of me hopes Morgan’s lying in all the overgrown grass. The other part of me hopes she isn't, because if she has been lying out here this long, then it would mean two things—she’s unconscious and critically hurt, or dead. As these soul-crushing thoughts register in my mind, I feel that God-awful bile rise up my throat as it tries to seduce the vomit from the pit of my stomach to follow once more. Reid. Stay in control. The force of each hard swallow sits like concrete in my oesophagus. The acidity of the bile attempting to escape burns my throat.
“Banks. Don’t!” Maloney yells with authority. Feet hit the pavement in a run, so I decide to do the same and try to make my way into the overgrowth, only I don’t move more than a few metres before I’m crash-tackled heavily to the ground. I don’t make it anywhere that could have helped my wife.
“I warned you, mate.” The sound of metal clunking together tells me one thing. This prick has handcuffs out, and they are going to be slapped around my wrists. My arms are twisted behind my back as my cheek presses into the wet grass. “This is a crime scene. It’s important not to go traipsing through it. You didn’t heed my warning; I’ve no choice.” He lifts me to my feet as I sneer.
Twisting my head over my shoulder, I see Maloney’s glare. “You don’t get it. I just want Morgan found, and you’re wasting time.”
“I do get it. But you’re interfering with our work. I’m putting you into the back of my car.”
“You can’t. I’m not under arrest.”
“Don’t push it,” he scolds.
In my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse
of his narrowed eyes. That’s right before I throw my head back and connect it with Maloney’s cheek.
“Fuck!” he yelps. “Reid Banks, I’m placing you under arrest for assaulting a police officer.” He spits blood out onto the road.
“Hope it hurt.”
“Hope it was worth it,” he snarks back just as quick.
Fuck, Reid, what did you do?
"How long until everyone gets here?" I fire out as I’m lowered into the back seat of the cop car. Before he even answers, I see blue and red flashing lights rounding the corner.
"I'd say about right now, Reid."
Before long, massive spotlights are erected over the area. More cars arrive, and then the barking of dogs has me watching as they enter the vacant lot. There are bloody cops everywhere. A sea of navy blue goes to work in a very structured and practised routine. I sit here, arms aching from their positioning behind my back, staring at the scene playing out in front of me–– one you’d expect to see on a screen in the cinema with actors portraying the horror. Only this isn’t a movie … this is my worst nightmare in real time.
Everything begins to speed up, like a hurtling rollercoaster, when officers in dark uniforms bob up and down between long strands of grass. I hear the calling of my name as the door to the car I’m sitting in opens.
Dark-washed jeans and a navy shirt catch my vision. Scanning farther upwards I’m met by a moustache with greying hairs entwined into black coarse hair. The distinctive smell of stale nicotine and cheap coffee wafts from his breath before he rotates his head away from me and orders with authority, “Get him out.”
I’m helped from the car, then instructed to turn around by an unknown man. The cuffs are removed and I’m turned back. Using each hand, I rub into either wrist until I’m presented with an outstretched hand awaiting mine to meet in a handshake. I reciprocate.
"I'm Detective Astin West. I’ll be handling your wife’s case. It will be in your best interest to accompany me down to the station, Mr Banks." I feel his penetrating eyes shifting the length of my body. I gather he’s trying to detect any information my body language might supply him. When his eyes rebound to mine, I’m alerted to my own weary nodding. I had no idea I was even doing it.
