by Allie Little
I light two sticks of incense in the guest quarters. One for Grace and the other for me. If only light would take me by the hand and lead me to her. I’m distracted by darkness. By shadow. By the absence of stars and a moon iced-black.
With my eyes closed and chakras open her face appears, larger than life. Her dark hair and the palest blue eyes, so real they’re haunting. I’m on my knees before her, begging.
Tell me! Tell me!
Her face becomes an expression of pure love. Kindness. A soul full of sundrenched happiness. My petrified heart thaws, surrounded by an aura of white, universal light. She smiles. Reaches for me. Holds out the fairest, translucent hand. Beckons me with it. Touches my cheek.
Tears sting my eyes but I will them away.
Her light dims, then her face begins to fade.
Stop! I feel around for her in the dark. Come back!
She reappears, my hand striking right through the middle of her beautiful, ashen face. She pulls back, receding. Only one word is uttered, yet her mouth doesn’t move.
Home.
I come out with a start. My heart leaps in thumping strides through my chest. When I’ve re-orientated, I bolt to the kitchen where Gemma and Brady are focused on phone tracking.
“She’s there! She’s at the house.”
Brady looks slowly up, questioning my sanity. “She’s not there, Riley. We searched, remember?”
Gemma shakes her head, pity hanging in her eyes. “Riles, she’s not there. She wasn’t. You saw for yourself.”
“But she came to me, Gem. In a vision.”
“A vision? Man, what drugs are you on?” Brady doesn’t look up from his laptop this time.
“None. No drugs. I’ve learned to connect with the spirit of the universe. And she came to me, guys. She’s at the house, I’m sure of it.”
“Feel free to go back, however I’m not feeling the same compulsion to do so.” Brady gives a small shake of his head.
His rebuke sets me straight. Perhaps they’re right and I really am mad. I exhale loudly. “Ok, but something doesn’t feel right. Like we’ve missed something.”
“Obviously we should’ve found them by now. I don’t think he’s that clever.” Brady taps at his keyboard with a couple of firm strokes. “Where would he take them? Where could he take them? Somewhere private. A place he believes they’re unlikely to be found.”
“Yes, but he’s unhinged, so he may not be thinking clearly,” chimes in Gem. “And if I know Grace, she’ll do everything in her power to outmanoeuvre him, if not to save herself, then to save her Gran.”
“I’ll run a background check. We might get lucky and find something in his business or personal profiles. Then I’ll tap into his emails and phone and set up electronic surveillance. We need a clear direction.”
“You can say that again.” I glance from the window, the sky broad with rolling clouds. Dark. Menacing. Tipping the sky from ice-blue to bleak-grey. Tipping out hope as the remains of the day are stripped from the sky.
“Here we go. Daniel Bancroft. Twenty-nine years old. Property developer and art dealer. Charged seven years ago with possession of a single piece of stolen art, but acquitted due to a lack of evidence.” He pauses briefly. “There were some pretty exquisite pieces on the walls in that house.”
“That was the nuanced version of his business. Often, he’d throw in original works from well-respected artists to encourage high-end property sales. He’d factor in the cost when the homes went to auction, but the buyer believed they were gaining a cherished prize. Grace spoke to me at length about it. It didn’t sit well with her.”
“Clever,” Brady retorts. “Especially if the cost of the property rose well over the value of the artwork.”
“Which apparently was often the case. With Whiteleys and Ollies up for grabs, people got greedy.”
“As did Daniel, by the sound of it.” I shudder at the thought of Grace being married to the man. “And the name Bancroft,” I ponder aloud. “Why does that sound so familiar?”
“Does it?” Brady questions, scratching at his head. “Any idea why?”
“Nothing comes to mind. But I feel like it should, like I’m missing something big.”
Brady shrugs. “The corporate search doesn’t show much. Bancroft Holdings seems pretty clean, apart from that one acquittal.” He peruses the screen momentarily then looks up. “Nothing of note, it would seem.”
“What can we do? We’re getting nowhere.”
Brady answers my question immediately. “I’m monitoring his phone and emails. If he makes a call, we’ll know about it. I can’t get a track on his phone at the moment, but I’m sure it’ll happen soon enough.”
“You need to do more, Brady. It’s not enough.”
“If you can come up with an idea, Einstein, I’d love to hear it. But so far you’ve contributed nothing but your hair-brained vision that she’s holed up in a house we’ve already searched.”
“Give him a break, Brady. That’s not fair.”
After forty-eight hours of nothing, despondency sets in. “No, Gem. It’s okay. He’s absolutely right. Other than going back to Avalon and tearing their house apart, I have no clue what to do.”
“Well, buck up Sunshine. You owe it to Grace to stay focused. She wouldn’t want you giving up. We’re going to find her, man. I can promise you that.”
34
Grace
Daniel’s words are meaningless. Fast-paced and weaving like tangled threads in a stream of muted logic. Without topic or insight, he passes off perceptiveness as discernment; his wisdom a psychically linked connection to an otherworldly realm.
“I was chosen, Gracie,” he states as a simple matter of fact. He glances around the kitchen as if expecting an audience.
I look tentatively into his face, unrecognisable in its madness, and place my hand on his forearm.
He looks at me, sensing disbelief. “But I was. I was chosen, Gracie. Three hundred years ago, in a storm above the sea.”
“Chosen for what?” I whisper, unsure I want the answer.
He flips three eggs spluttering wildly in the pan, shrugging a nonchalant shoulder. “Just … chosen.” He unzips the plastic fastener on the bacon, separating the pieces with his fingertips. His movements are quick, similar to his erratic thoughts.
“Tell me what you mean, Dan.”
He looks around, then gestures at a white bookcase lining the far wall, silvery in morning sunlight. His eyes light up excitedly. “Pick a book from the shelf and open it, Gracie. To any page.”
I frown at his request, questioning the purpose.
He loses patience. “Just do it, Gracie. Open the book to any page and I’ll tell you what it says. Word for word, darling. Humour me.”
Shuddering at the possibility his newly discovered psychic abilities might be real, I refuse. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not psychic.”
He sighs aloud. “How will you ever know if you don’t trust?” His gaze turns frosty, bleaching colour from my cheeks.
Trust what? Him? Me?
Thinking briefly, I work with it. “Do you trust me, Dan?”
He turns and looks directly into my eyes, like a young child searching for meaning. He nods earnestly. “Of course I do. You’re the only one. The only one I trust.”
“Do you trust what I think?”
He nods seriously again. “Yes. Of course I do.”
I take his hands in mine, removing the egg flip to the bench and flicking off the gas to the stovetop. “Then I want you to listen to me. Really listen to what I have to say.”
“What is it?” he asks, eyes widened in expectation.
I haul in a deep breath, bracing myself. “I think you need help. I think you need to see a psychiatrist, Dan. You’re not well, and I can’t fix you. But I’ll stay while you get well. Let me take you to the hospital. I think that’s where you need to be.”
He grips my hands so tightly my bones might crush.
“Will you do that
for me?” I ask, hope emptying with his silence.
He waits an inordinate amount of time, then gives a small nod; a gesture of willingness.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes. If that’s what you think I need to do, I’ll do it.”
Like the meek little lamb I’d met earlier, Dan allows me to lead him into the bedroom to pack a bag. Pyjamas and a change of clothes; toothbrush, toiletries, dahlia bulbs …
“Um, I don’t think you’ll be needing those.” I remove the bulbs from the overnight bag with a gentle smile.
He snatches at my hands. “No! They stay. There might be a garden bed I can plant them in, to remind me of you. They’re your favourite.”
“Whatever you like,” I placate, leaving them in the bag. “But I was wondering …”
“What?” Daniel glances at me suspiciously.
“I was wondering if I could check on Gran? I haven’t seen her since early this morning, and I’m worried about her.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. Leave her be.” Daniel returns to the packing, taking select items from the wardrobe and folding them meticulously into his bag.
“But she’s old, Dan. And she’s barely been conscious since we left her house. And I don’t even know how long ago that was. How long has it been, darling?”
He softens, hugging me against his chest. “Not long, sweetheart. She’ll be fine. We have to get to the hospital, don’t we?”
Against the broadness of his chest I nod, his scent familiar but disturbing. I pull back to consider his face. “I think I should call ahead. Let the hospital know we’re coming.”
“I’m not so sure …”
“I am. It’ll ensure the whole process is quicker once we get there. Give me your phone. I dropped mine at Gran’s.”
He pulls his phone from his back pocket, keeping a firm hold on it. He tilts his head to the side, darkness lingering in his gaze. “You only call the hospital, right? No-one else, you understand?”
“I have no-one else to call.”
He concurs happily, giving me the thumbs up signal rather over-dramatically. His face beams widely as he zips up the overnight bag. “Which is exactly how it should be. You and me, and no-one else. Not that brash, arrogant restaurant owner you’ve been hanging about with. He’s not for you. You’re married to me, Gracie. We belong together. That fact seems to have slipped your mind the last couple of months. Well … that’s the only rational explanation I could come up with to explain why you’d gone.”
“Yes, Dan. I simply forgot. But I remember now.”
He cups my face in his hands and reaches down to kiss me. His lips meet mine, like strangers bumping against each other in the dark. Awkward and fumbling. Foreign now, since Riley, who is never far from my thoughts.
You need to call him, Grace. He’ll be worried sick. You don’t even know how long you’ve been gone.
My heart flips, jolting me back to my current reality, absent of Riley. I can’t allow myself to need him, because the fact he’s not here hurts too damn much. Daniel’s kiss repulsed me. Made me want Riley and the familiarity of his woodsy, fresh scent. The safety of his arms around me, and his lips firmly against mine.
“Give me the phone, darling. I’ll call the hospital. I can arrange a psychiatrist to meet us in emergency.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I do. We’ll see the psych, then we can come home. Together.”
This pleases Daniel, evident by the satisfied expression moving slowly across his features. He finally hands me the phone, then grabs for the overnight bag.
“Bring the car around, darling, and I’ll make the call.”
Hesitating for a moment, he makes for the door. He’d never trusted my instincts, even when he was well, so to have him agree was an astonishing surprise.
I stagger for the basement, bursting with urgency to check on Gran. I find her motionless at the base of the stairs, semi-conscious on the mattress I’d heartlessly left her on. Falling to my knees beside her I whisper desperately, shaking her shoulder. “Gran! Gran! Wake up! Wake UP!”
Her eyes pop open, wide like the rising sun but cornflower blue again, the colour returned. “Yes, darling?”
“Can you get up? Are you okay?”
She shakes her head no, the solemnity terrifying.
“You must be able to. Come on. I need you to be okay.”
She makes a heroic effort, valiant but in vain. “I can’t, my darling. I’m too weak.” She closes her eyes again and shuffles her body a little. “I need to sleep.”
I watch Gran resume her peaceful slumber, and the most horrible thought hits me. If she doesn’t survive this, if the drugs are too strong for her ancient body, I might lose her. No more cups of tea with hot, steaming scones on her veranda above the sea. No more picking lemons from the tangled branches of the gnarled lemon tree. No more dancing in the lounge room watching Fred Astaire do his thing. I remind myself she’s still alive, lying right here on the mattress. And I need to save her.
I fill a glass of water from the half-basin fixed to the wall, and encourage her to drink. She opens her mouth a little, sips at the liquid, the amount unlikely to sustain her.
I finger Riley a quick text, mindful of my limited time.
Me: I’m fine, but Gran’s not. You need to help her. She’s in the basement, here at the house. I’m taking Daniel to hospital. He’s not well either. Please help Gran. She needs you.
While there’s no immediate answer, I realise the gravity of what I’ve done. Riley can’t text back, because Daniel will find out I’ve betrayed him. He’ll see the message and that won’t be good, for me or Gran.
I jab at the phone again.
Me: Please don’t answer this text. This is Daniel’s phone. If he knows I’ve contacted you, it’ll ruin everything. I miss you baby. I’ll see you soon.
I press send, then delete both messages and shut off the phone, hoping for the best. Riley will get the messages and come for Gran. Meanwhile, I’ll get Daniel to the hospital.
The front door sweeps closed behind me, Daniel in the driver’s seat of the car which purrs like a kitten in the driveway. I motion for him to open the window. “Why don’t you let me drive? You’re not well, darling. Why don’t you rest and let me take you?”
Daniel starts at my bossiness, but agrees. He pushes out and thuds the door closed. He rounds the car to my side and plants a quick kiss on my lips. “Thank you, sweetheart. You’re too kind.”
Dan smiles at my devotion, smitten by my apparently adoring ways. As I slip into the driver’s seat, Dan says slowly, “Take me to the hospital. I need to be well again so we can resume our life together.”
“Sure.” I meet his eyes and remember the man he once was, now gone forever. And even though I feel like falling in a crumpled heap, waiting for Riley to pick me up and soothe away the pain, I start the engine and drive.
35
Riley
I’m taking ten deep breaths, probably quicker than the pace recommended, when the texts come through. At first I think I’m losing my mind, but then it hits me.
Grace has made contact.
“Oh my god. Grace is okay.”
Brady and Gemma jerk their attention across to me. “What?” they say in unison. “Give me the phone,” demands Brady, holding out his hand.
“She’s okay. She’s taking Daniel to the hospital and wants us to get Bess.” I hand the phone across the island bench. “Though why she wants to help that asshole is beyond me. After everything he’s done I can’t wait to get my bloody hands on him.”
“But that’s Grace all over, isn’t it? That kind heart of hers, always wanting to help,” says Gemma.
Brady peruses the screen. “She might say she’s okay, but it’s not good. Look at the second text. She tells you not to text back because it’ll ruin everything. What game is she playing? She needs to get out of there. He still sounds dangerous.”
“I’m not disagreeing with that. I
need to find her, Brady. She doesn’t even say which hospital she’s taking him to.” I pace the kitchen, snatching the phone from Brady’s hands. “And right here, see that?” My finger twitches at the screen. “They were at the house. In the basement. I didn’t even realise there was a basement. The one place we didn’t check. And she was there all along.”
I’ve failed her. I’ve fucking failed her.
The thought’s too painful to linger on. Disillusioned, I grab for the keys. “We need to get back to Avalon. Who knows what condition Bess is in.”
“But what about Grace?” Gem looks from me to Brady.
“She said she’s taking Daniel to the hospital. Let’s assume she’s fine, unless one of us wants to start calling around trying to find out which hospital they’re in?”
“I’ll do that. You lot get going.” Mum stands at the kitchen door, a worried frown pervading her face. “And don’t try to move her if she’s injured, just call for an ambulance.”
“Thanks, Mum. Grace asked me to get her Gran, which is exactly what I’m going to do. But if you could find out where Grace has taken Daniel, that would be wonderful.”
She hugs me tight. “You need to go. Don’t worry about Grace, I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll find her for you.”
“Thanks, Mum. You’re the best.”
She pulls away and heads for the phone. Within a moment, she’s dialling for directory assist, obtaining various contact numbers for hospitals in the area. “Good luck, and call me if you need anything. I’m here for you, Riley. I’ll let you know when we find her.”
“Come on, mate,” Brady agitates. “Let’s get going.”
“We don’t all need to go, do we? I’ll stay with Annie. Maybe I can help find Grace.”
“Okay, Sis. Good plan.”
