Blood Tears

by JD Nixon

  “Did you ask what they were doing in our town?” I demanded.

  “They were teenage runaways, Tess,” explained Mr X patiently. “They were running away, that’s what they were doing.”

  “Why were they running away? Who from?” I persisted.

  Zelda shrugged. “She got pregnant, and that wasn’t welcome news in her family. They wanted her to have an abortion. She wanted to keep the baby. So they took the only option they thought they had, and ran away.”

  “They ran out of money, so the kid tried to rob the grocery store,” said Mr X. “And we all know how that ended. And that’s the end of the story.”

  I stared at them in disbelief. “What about what they did to Dave? They hijacked him and stole his money. Annabel had valuable jewellery on her.”

  “Tess, we’re not going to arrest a new mother, especially one who has just learned that the father of her child was killed. And she wasn’t the instigator – remember Dave Gatton said she was crying all the time. And besides, Gatton hasn’t pressed any charges,” Mr X said. “He got his vehicle back unharmed, and if he lost a bit of cash, then perhaps he’ll think twice about picking up hitch hikers in the future.”

  Rather incensed by now at their lackadaisical attitude towards the case, I kept at it, “But what about that man who came looking for Jamie who said he was his father?”

  “What about him?” replied Zelda, impatient with me by now. “It doesn’t have any impact on what we’re required to do on this case, which is to identify the boy and inform his family; make sure the girl is looked after because she doesn’t want to return to her family; and investigate the circumstances surrounding the incident to ensure it was an accident. And as we’ve exonerated the truck driver from any blame, then I’d say tick, tick, and tick. Case is officially closed.” She looked at her partner. “Come on, X. Let’s go get some lunch. We’ve still got those witnesses in that new bashing case to interview this afternoon.”

  And with that, she stalked off down the corridor.

  “Sorry, Tess, but Zelda’s right,” said Mr X, rather more conciliatorily than his partner. “As far as this case is concerned, we’ve done everything to bring it to a conclusion.”

  The Sarge headed into the ward, obviously expecting me to follow him. But Mr X laid a hand on my arm to stop me.

  “Don’t suppose you’ll want to show off your midwifery skills again when my baby appears?” he said with the hint of a smile. He turned on his heel and whistling a soft but jaunty tune, strolled off after Zelda, his hands in his pockets.

  I watched him go, but there was no corresponding smile on my face.

  Chapter 15

  Annabel was nursing her baby when we approached her bed. Only her little face was visible within the swaddling blankets, her eyes closed, tiny lips pursed, fast asleep.

  “She just had a feed,” Annabel explained, looking down at her daughter with painful tenderness, her eyes still red from crying earlier.

  “Everything going all right in that respect?” I asked, perching my butt on her bed again, while the Sarge pulled up the visitor’s chair.

  “Yes,” she said with quiet and modest pride. “It took a few tries to get the hang of it, but it seems to be okay now. It’s hard, but I have to try to be strong for her.” A tired tear trickled from one eye down her cheek. “I just can’t believe that Jamie will never see her or hold her. He was so excited at the thought of being a father.”

  I took her hand and squeezed it gently, guiltily thinking that if I hadn’t chased Jamie that day, then three lives wouldn’t have been so badly changed forever.

  She glanced between us. “Have you come to ask me more questions? Because I just spoke to those detectives. I told them everything I could about Jamie and me.”

  “Annabel, you remember that photo I showed you earlier today of Jamie?” She nodded. “It, and another one, were given to me by a man who came into the station asking after him.” She continued to give me her full attention, but I sensed an immediate stiffness and wariness showing in her body language. “That man said he was Jamie’s father.”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. He was lying. Jamie doesn’t . . . didn’t . . . have a father.” A tear from her other eye followed the previous one in tracking down her cheek. It plopped off her chin, landing on her baby’s face. Delicately, she wiped it away, the baby too deep in slumber to have noticed. “His father abandoned his family when Jamie was three. Nobody in his family has heard from him or seen him since.”

  “Perhaps it was him, and he’s managed to track Jamie down?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Did the detectives show you the other photo of him and Jamie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you recognise him at all?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any idea how he might have got his hands on those photos? You saw them. They were recent pictures. Jamie wasn’t a three-year-old in them. It would kind of suggest that he’d been in contact with Jamie fairly recently.”

  “I don’t know.” She fixed watery eyes to me. “Am I going to be arrested for stealing that man’s car and his wallet? I didn’t want to do it, but I couldn’t walk much further. If I go to jail, will I lose my baby?”

  The tears started falling in earnest again.

  I patted her hand. “That’s up to the detectives, Annabel. But from what they’ve told us, and because the man you hijacked hasn’t pressed any charges, they will let that slide.”

  “Really?” A tiny light of hope shone in her teary eyes.

  “That’s what they were saying. But it’s not something you should ever do again.”

  “I didn’t want to do it in the first place. I feel bad about what we did to that man, but we didn’t have much money, and Jamie was worried about me.”

  “Why did you come to our town?”

  “We needed to get away from Wattling Bay, and Jamie picked it at random from the surrounding towns. We thought it was a good distance from Wattling Bay.”

  “Why did you need to get away?”

  Her eyes dropped to her baby. “Because of her,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss her daughter’s feathery hair. “My . . . father . . . was very angry when he found out I was pregnant.”

  “Does your family live here in Wattling Bay?”

  “No,” she said, but she didn’t meet my eyes.

  “Do you remember where you stayed when you were living in our town? If you’ve left any personal goods behind, I’m happy to collect them for you.”

  “I don’t know. It was some kind of shed or something. I don’t know where it was.”

  “Have you thought about trying to reconcile with your dad now that the baby’s born?” I asked.

  “No!” she said vehemently, startling her baby awake. Little eyes searched around frantically. Annabel started comforting her, gently rocking her back and forth. “I’m never going back there. Never. You can’t make me.” Her eyes were wild. “I’ll run away again if you try to make me.”

  The baby started crying, the Sarge shooting me a reproachful glance.

  “It’s okay, Annabel,” he soothed. “We’re not going to make you. The social worker will help find some alternative accommodation for you.”

  He stood, and I followed suit. For some reason, I scribbled my mobile number on the back of one of the station’s cards and handed it to her.

  “If you ever need anything, Annabel, please don’t hesitate to ring me. I mean that,” I said earnestly.

  “Just go, please,” she requested, her baby’s wailing attracting the attention of the same nurse who told us to leave earlier.

  “Not you two again. Every time you come here, you upset her. Please leave immediately.”

  “We’re leaving,” assured the Sarge, ushering me out with a hand on my elbow.

  I shook him off as we walked to the exit.

  “You upset her,” he said, with deceptive blandness.

 
; “I know, and I’m sorry about that. But I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something hinky going on. She knows more than she’s telling. I’m positive of it,” I said.

  “Tess, you heard what she said. It was exactly what she told X and Zelda. What do you think she’s hiding?”

  “I don’t know,” I said in frustration. “But there’s that whole question about Jamie’s supposed father. Why isn’t anyone except me interested in him?”

  “It’s exactly what Zelda told you. Their job was to identify the dead boy and let his family know. Their secondary concern was to ensure the girl would receive adequate care. They’ve done their job.”

  “But what about that man?” I demanded stubbornly.

  He shrugged as he unlocked our car. “Perhaps he was Jamie’s father and Annabel just didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want to be found by her or Jamie’s family.”

  That made a certain sense to me, but I couldn’t let it go. “But then, why would he give me a false name and address?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, driving from the carpark. “He’s obviously someone dodgy. Perhaps he wasn’t willing to reveal his identity to the police, but was still concerned about his son and was trying to track him down. People can be complex like that. Life isn’t always black and white.”

  It was halfway through our trip home that I broke the thoughtful silence into which we’d each fallen.

  “Sarge.” He glanced at me enquiringly. “Thank you for buying me lunch.”

  “That’s okay,” he said with a faint smile. “You need to be well-energised for the next few hours so you can tackle all those reports you have to write by the end of the day.”

  I groaned in disgust. “I thought you were being nice, not having an ulterior motive.”

  His faint smile grew wider. “It’s good to clear all your work each day. Clean desk, clean mind.”

  “Seriously, if I hear that one more time, I’m going to have to thump someone. And seeing that you’re the nearest person in the vicinity, it’s going to be you who’s the thumpee.”

  “Oh, how I missed being thumped by you.”

  Despite myself, I giggled. “I missed thumping you. Baz wouldn’t let me thump him.”

  “Wise man. And it’s not like I let you thump me either. You just tend to do it without any warning or permission.”

  “You love the attention.”

  He snorted. “I can think of plenty of other kinds of attention I’d prefer than a hard thump on the arm.”

  “Should I try your stomach next time?”

  “Fuller, you’re a laugh a minute.”

  We drove a few more kilometres in silence.

  “Speaking of thumping, how did Melissa take the break up?” I asked.

  “Not particularly well,” he said vaguely.

  “What was the catalyst? It wasn’t you just waking up one day and deciding it was over.”

  “You’re not really into minding your own business, are you?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  He sighed. “I wanted to go to Ireland to visit my father, and stay there for a long time. She wanted to do other things.”

  “There’s a lot more to it than that, isn’t there?”

  “Isn’t there always?” he said, but declined to elaborate.

  Taking the hint, I returned to my thoughts, puzzling over who was our mystery man. I knew there had to be something deeper going on than what it looked on the surface.

  Back at the station, we worked in companionable silence until it was almost knock off time. I did everything I could to avoid writing reports, eventually running out of minor cleaning jobs, reading emails, and even a spot of filing, a fact that the Sarge observed with barely concealed amusement.

  Just as we were packing up, the phone rang. We looked at each other in a battle of the wills. He arched an eyebrow, and nodded his head towards the phone. Relenting, I picked it up, to find Mr X on the other end.

  “Tess, when you spoke to Annabel after us, did she tell you anything more?”

  “Nope. Her story was the same as what you said she told you.”

  He sighed with frustration. “She’s given us a false name. We can’t find records on anyone with her name around her age on any database. And believe me, we’ve tried them all.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I guess she really doesn’t want to go back home, and doesn’t want her family to find her.”

  “Yeah, but she had no identification on her. It’s going to make her life difficult in the future.”

  “It’s strange with two people giving us fake identification.” An idea popped into my head. “Unless . . .”

  “What?”

  I gathered my thoughts. “Unless the man who came here purporting to be Jamie’s father is really Annabel’s father?”

  “They both gave us fake names. But why?”

  “Maybe there’s something about the baby they’re both trying to hide?”

  A silence from the other end. “Oh. One of those kind of cases?”

  “Perhaps. It would certainly explain why she’s so vehemently against returning to her family.”

  “And why he’s trying to track her down through Jamie. He wouldn’t want that situation coming to light.”

  “But she told us the baby was Jamie’s.”

  “Wishful thinking?”

  “Can’t blame her. Who’d want their kid growing up knowing that her grandfather was really her father?”

  “What a mess.” He sighed again. “I guess Z and I will have to interview her again tomorrow. I just want this case closed. We have so much other work to do.”

  “I’ll let you know if I find out anything else.”

  “Thanks, Tess.”

  At the Sarge’s enquiring expression, I gave him a rundown on the newest theory. He pondered it for a few minutes.

  “Makes sense, but it’s very unsavoury.”

  “Perhaps Jamie was helping her escape an abusive situation.”

  He shook his head sadly. “Poor kids.”

  We went our separate ways for the night. I spent a quiet evening. After dinner, I sat on the ramp to our back door with a cup of tea. I listened to my chickens contentedly settle themselves down for the evening, enjoying the varied aromas from my herb garden. Dad eventually coaxed me inside for a couple of games of chess, which he decisively won.

  That night, lying in bed, I thought sadly about my relationship with Jake. At one time, we would have texted or rang each other every night, that remote contact only heightening our anticipation for our next physical meeting. Now, days would go by where we didn’t contact each other, because when we did, it was inevitably strained, usually leading to bickering or outright arguments about his family or my job. Or Denny’s funeral.

  Weary after last night’s interruption, I finally asleep. I dreamed.

  I lie on the dirt floor of a ruined shed, the moonlight streaming through the gaps in the roof where the tin has rusted through. I am in labour, trying to pant my way through the excruciating pain of each contraction. Sweat drips from my forehead, and my mouth is parched as I inhale and exhale with effort.

  The Sarge kneels in front of me, acting as my midwife, giving me a constant stream of instructions and assurances.

  “Come on, Tessie. A few more pushes. That’s all we need,” he urges.

  “I can’t. I can’t,” I moan. “It hurts so much.”

  “Be strong.”

  “I can’t. Please. Give me something to take away the pain,” I pleaded, tears flooding down my cheeks.

  “You have to be strong.”

  “I can’t. Please. It’s too much pain for me to bear.”

  The Sarge looks at me with great compassion and sorrow. “I’m not allowed to give you pain relief, Tessie.”

  “Please,” I beg.

  “No, it’s impossible,” he says. “Your life is meant to be full of pain. There’s no other way for you.”

  “There is. There is. You can take away t
he pain for me. You can do it.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  Another contraction rips through me. I can feel my baby forcing its way out, until it is fully emerged and the Sarge holds it, smiling at me.

  “It’s a girl,” he tells me.

  “Can I hold my baby?” I ask, drenched in sweat. “I want to hold my baby. I want to see her face. I want to cuddle her.”

  The Sarge’s glance is full of pity. “I’m sorry, Tessie. This baby is not for you.”

  “But she’s my baby.”

  With a last glance at me, he walks over to a darkened corner of the room, and hands the baby to a shadowy figure.

  “Thanks, Tessie,” gloats a familiar voice. Red Bycraft steps out of the shadows, a triumphant grin on his face. “I’ve always wanted a Fuller of my own.”

  “No!” I scream, appealing to the Sarge. “Don’t let him take her from me.”

  He returns my desperation with an apologetic smile.

  “And look, the baby’s a girl. A female Fuller. Just what I’ve been asking for my whole life,” says Red.

  “No! She’s my baby, not yours. She’s mine. Mine. Sarge, tell him,” I implore.

  “Sorry, Tessie. It’s the way it must be,” he says, sympathy on his face.

  Red laughs, an evil sound. “What fun I’ll have with her.”

  “No!” I scream, struggling to sit up.

  The Sarge holds me down by the shoulders so I can’t move as Red slips out the door, clutching my baby to his chest, laughing all the way.

  I woke with a start, my heart thumping, real beads of sweat on my forehead, barely able to swallow from the dryness in my mouth. I leaned over to take a huge gulp of water from the glass on my bedside table.

  “It was just a dream,” I tell myself once again. “It was only a dream.”

  The first light of dawn crept through the gaps on the side of my drawn blind. I flopped back on my bed, knowing it was pointless trying to get back to sleep again now.

  Another great start to another great day, I thought to myself with a weary sigh.

  Chapter 16

  After my morning jog, tending to my chickens, breakfast and a shower, I was back at the station at an early hour. I made a cup of tea and settled at my desk, contemplating my unfinished reports with little interest. As a diversion, I glanced at my phone for the first time this morning, noticing a voicemail message from an unfamiliar Big Town number.