Risk

by Fleur Ferris

  ‘Excuse me, I’m looking for Fliss. Are you Fliss?’

  The girl smiles. ‘Sorry. Not me,’ she says.

  I dash off towards the water. A blonde girl sits cross-legged on the sand. Her guy leans back on his arms, legs stretched out in front of him. He has sandy-blond hair. She’s small and looks about fifteen years old. She throws her head back and laughs. I can tell she’s totally into the guy. When I reach the sand, I slow to a walk. My heart thuds hard.

  ‘Fliss? Is that you?’ I say as if I’m some old friend.

  She turns and looks at me. Her eyes flicker with confusion for a second. She turns back to her guy.

  ‘Fliss?’ I say again.

  She turns to me. ‘Sorry, are you speaking to me?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes, sorry, I’m looking for Fliss. Are you Fliss?’

  ‘No. You must have me mixed up with someone.’

  I don’t believe her. It has to be her.

  ‘Have you been on the Risk website? Is your username Fliss?’

  ‘Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I’m Taylor, I sent you a message.’

  I search her face for any glimmer of recognition.

  ‘Look, I said I’m not Fliss. My god, just go away, you’re freaking me out.’ Her guy is suddenly protective, sitting up straight and facing me.

  I back away.

  I scan around. A black car catches my eye. The window is down. The driver is facing away from me. He then turns and looks out at the sea. There’s something about his face, his mirror sunglasses, his smile. A chill scuttles up my spine. He passes by as if in slow motion. I stand rooted to the ground for a few seconds, not knowing what to do. I then start to sprint. I need to see who the passenger is.

  I’m out of the sand and up over the footpath in a flash. I can see that the car will turn left and head towards the lights. I fly through the car park and catch a glimpse of the passenger when she turns her face. She’s young, much younger than he is, but she’s all made up, as if she’s trying to make herself look older. She’s giggling, and her strawberry hair flounces in the breeze.

  ‘Fliss!’ I scream. My voice is not loud enough. I stop running so I can catch my breath. ‘Fliiiss!’ I scream with all my might.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Her window zips up.

  They stop at the lights. I run as fast as I can towards the car but I’m not going to make it. The lights turn green and the car starts to move off.

  No. No. No. Nonononono. All of my energy rises into my chest and pushes up to my throat. Tears fill my eyes and blur my vision. I wipe them away and squint so I can see. I can only just make out the numberplate.

  I repeat the numbers and letters over and over in my head. I say them aloud, terrified I’ll mix them up. I say them again and again, etching them into my brain.

  A police siren wails in the distance. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial the detective’s number. He answers. I can hear a siren through the phone and realise the siren belongs to his car. He’s on his way, but they’re too late, like I was. His car squeals into the Marina car park and pulls up beside me. The smell of burning brakes hits me a second later.

  I see Kel in the passenger seat. I lean towards the window and tell him the numberplate. ‘Write it down,’ I say. ‘Quick, before I forget it.’

  Kel asks questions and relays my answers to someone over the phone. ‘We’ve identified Fliss,’ he says. ‘A photo’s coming through.’

  We wait. A few seconds later, his phone beeps. He opens the image and shows me. I recognise her straightaway.

  ‘Yes. That’s her. That’s the girl I saw in that car. The car’s black.’

  Rachel pulls up behind the police car, gets out and stands right beside me. Kel asks if she could drive me home and as I slide into Rachel’s car, the detectives career away.

  Rachel and I sit in silence. I lean against the door of the car, gutted, but I hold in my crying. I don’t want Rachel to see it. I close my eyes and focus on the pain in my throat. The drive home feels like hours.

  When she finally pulls into our driveway, I turn to her. ‘Thank you for helping today. I know …’ My voice disappears. ‘… I know it wasn’t right coming to you but I didn’t know what else to do.’

  Rachel looks at me and her eyes flush with tears. ‘You did the right thing, Taylor.’

  Mum opens the car door, uneasiness written all over her face. I realise she must have been worried about where I was. I step out, burst into tears and we hug. Then I go inside, leaving Rachel to explain to her what happened.

  I lie on my bed. I stare at the ceiling. I’m tired but can’t close my eyes. Every time I do, I see Fliss’s pretty young excited face, slipping by in that black car.

  I was too late. I didn’t save her.

  I get up and go downstairs to the lounge room.

  I pace, waiting. Mum sits on the couch and stares at me. She’s angry.

  ‘This guy’s dangerous, Taylor. Promise me you’ll never, ever go chasing him again.’

  ‘I know he’s dangerous,’ I snap. ‘And now he’s got Fliss. What was I supposed to do?’

  We glare at each other for a minute. I know she understands. She would have done the same thing.

  There’s a knock at the door. Callum and Riley are standing there. Riley’s eyes are bloodshot and swollen. Callum doesn’t look much better. Riley and I hug. No words are exchanged. Callum sits on the couch opposite Mum. It’s déjà vu. This is what it was like when Sierra went missing, then when she was found, then after her funeral when we had the lead from Miffy the Kat. Callum spent days sitting on our couch, waiting in silent pain.

  Mum leans forward. ‘Taylor, now that these guys are here, I might pop over to Rachel’s and see how she’s going.’

  ‘Can you ring us? I want to know even the smallest thing.’

  She nods, picks up her keys and heads out the door. I wish I could go too, but I know it would be too much for Rachel. This whole thing with Fliss would have left her raw.

  I hate how I’ve been shut out.

  I take my phone to the kitchen bench and plug it in, just in case. I sit down. I wonder what Jacob Jones called himself this time.

  Half an hour later my phone rings. I dash for it.

  It’s Mum.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Taylor.’ I know it’s bad by the tone of her voice. ‘Rachel’s been on the phone to Kel. He said they had police all over the city but they didn’t intercept the car. Fliss’s phone goes straight to her voicemail when the police try to call her so they’re trying to find out from Fliss’s friends as much information as possible. But at this stage, no one has any idea where she is, where they’ve gone.’

  I slide down the side of the kitchen bench and sit on the floor. I close my eyes.

  ‘Taylor, are you there?’ I hear Mum say.

  ‘Yes,’ I whisper.

  Callum is kneeling in front of me. Riley is beside me. They didn’t hear what Mum said, but they know by my reaction it was bad news. Riley puts her head in her hands. A strange groan escapes from her.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asks Mum. ‘I’ll come back home if you need me.’

  ‘No. I have Callum and Riley. Rachel needs you.’

  ‘You got the car registration. They’ll know who he is now. They’ll find him.’

  That doesn’t help Fliss, though, does it? I think to myself, after I hang up.

  I break the news to the others. Callum actually expels air like he’s been kicked in the back.

  ‘Why didn’t I figure it out earlier? Even one hour would have made a difference,’ I say.

  ‘They might still find them in time,’ says Callum. I hug him. I love his optimism, but don’t believe it.

  We move back to the couch. I make hot chocolates and we settle in for a long night. We chat and cry and chat some more. Riley says she misses Joel, misses Sierra. She cries again. There’s been a wall between me and Riley since Sierra died, but tonight it’s crumbling aw
ay.

  ‘I’m sorry I said you were turning into Sierra,’ she says.

  I wait for her to go on.

  ‘It’s just … I always felt low on Sierra’s priority list, like I just wasn’t important to her, you know? Like she never considered me. And I guess, when I said that, at that time, I was feeling that from you … I get it. I do. I know you’re hurting and you’re just doing what you have to do to get through it. We’re all doing what we have to do, to get through it. I get that now.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ I cry. ‘I never wanted you to feel like that.’ Riley comes over to my couch and we hug. It makes me cry more.

  I’m so glad we’re talking like this. I’ve missed our closeness. And I see Riley in a new light, now. Callum and Joel, too. We’ve all been going through such a hard time … It’s as if we had to separate to survive. Sierra’s death derailed us and we all spiralled in different directions. But now … Now it seems like we’ve crawled back to some sort of meeting point. We’re still injured, though. Individually, and as a group of friends, we have a long way to go. Maybe this is something I need to learn. Mum’s been so persistent with Rachel, even though Rachel told her she didn’t want us around. I don’t even want to think about the things Rachel may have said to her, or the hurt Mum might have felt. And Mum’s grieving in her own right. She loved Sierra, too.

  Mum calls an hour later. No news.

  ‘How’s Rachel?’

  ‘Not so good. She’s drinking gin, and I don’t think that’s helping matters. Dave’s just arrived and Rachel’s much calmer now he’s here. I wouldn’t be surprised if they got back together.’

  We chat for a few minutes and then hang up.

  ‘Where would he be taking her? Ballarat?’

  It’s a rhetorical question so no one bothers answering.

  I hope Dave and Rachel do get back together. Maybe, in a way, they spiralled in different directions like us. First Rachel kicked Dave out, then Cassy decided to go with him because she felt Rachel resented her, but now they might be coming back to some kind of meeting point.

  Callum and I sit on one couch and Riley lies on the other. We wait. Hardly talk. Just wait. And wait.

  And wait.

  Mum walks through the door. It’s two in the morning. We all sit up, startled. She’s crying. She looks at the others and then settles her eyes on me. My heart sinks.

  ‘Fliss’s back. He let her go.’ Mum pauses, wrings her hands in front of her and then comes into the lounge. She places her handbag so carefully on the coffee table that it’s as if it’s full of water that she doesn’t want to spill. We all watch her. My heart starts to pound. Callum swallows so hard I hear it. Mum props herself on the edge of the couch next to Riley. She takes in a deep breath. I hold mine.

  ‘They didn’t get him,’ Mum says.

  A hole starts to burn in my chest. It’s so severe, I rub it with my palm.

  ‘But Fliss is okay?’

  ‘Apparently. But she’s not being co-operative. She says she’s in love with him and that the police have made a mistake.’

  ‘What?’ Riley spits. ‘That stupid sl–’ She stops herself, looks at me. ‘Idiot.’

  Callum rubs his face. He looks pale, and dark shadows scoop under his eyes.

  ‘Did the police get anything at all?’ Callum asks.

  ‘Yes. They have the numberplate – Taylor would have told you about that. It’s a solid lead. They could have more, I wouldn’t know. They said they couldn’t disclose anything further.’

  ‘What’s going to happen with Fliss?’ I ask.

  ‘Well, she’s a victim. They’re treading very carefully. Her statement is going to be crucial to the case, once they get him.’ She turns to Riley. ‘And you may think she’s stupid, but don’t forget how manipulative this guy is.’ There’s a sharp edge to her voice.

  ‘I feel so bad for Fliss,’ I say. ‘Imagine how she’ll feel when she gets her head around the fact that she’s just been on a date with a killer.’ A shudder passes through my shoulders. It’s too close to home for me to think about.

  ‘Why didn’t he let Sierra go?’ Fat tears slide down Riley’s face as she says it.

  ‘Rachel asked the same thing. The police can only speculate at this point so they’re not saying much. I think – and this is just me – that during their date, Sierra may have discovered details of his real identity, or something like that.’

  ‘Who knows why this friggin’ psycho does what he does … How can he disappear like that? Jesus Christ, what are those dumb-arse police doing?’ Callum snaps.

  ‘We’ll see,’ Mum says. ‘The numberplate is a good lead. I’m feeling hopeful. There’s a whole task force working through the night, doing everything they can. They seemed confident.’

  I take a deep breath. I’m going to focus on ‘confident’.

  ‘It’s two o’clock,’ Mum says. ‘I’m going to bed. You guys should try to get some sleep, too.’ She kisses my forehead as she goes past, I squeeze her arm.

  Riley starts to doze around six in the morning. Callum, too. I leave them and go to my room. I place my phone on my bedside table. I climb into bed and let sleep take my mind away.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The home phone wakes me. It’s ten-thirty in the morning. The ringing cuts short so I assume Mum answered it.

  She appears at my door a moment later.

  ‘They got him,’ she says. Her voice cracks. ‘They got him.’ She’s shaking. I go to her and we hug. ‘You did it. Your information. That numberplate. Your website. You helped them catch him.’ Mum is so distraught it frightens me. She lets everything go and sobs so hard and loud it’s like all these weeks she’s been holding it in. I stand solid and don’t cry. It’s my turn to support her.

  The past few weeks come back to me in flashes.

  Sierra’s smile. Our friendship. Her waving goodbye.

  My angst. The pain on Callum’s face. Riley’s isolation.

  Fliss’s photo. Cabe Osric’s gallery. Taylor Wolfe.

  Mr Samalot’s genuine warmth.

  Rachel’s distress. Her resentment.

  Sierra’s casket. The sea of uniforms.

  My love for Callum. Then the dreadful hurt.

  Everything rushes back. I take in a huge breath. Now that he has been caught, maybe my world will spin again.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Callum, Riley and I are glued to the TV, waiting for the evening news. It’s finally on.

  A male reporter stands in front of a house:

  A twenty-eight-year-old man from Witcham, South Australia, has been arrested for the rape and murder of Sierra Carson-Mills. South Australian Police apprehended the suspect early this morning when they raided his family home. Senior Detective Parkinson from Victoria Police travelled to South Australia where he applied to the court for the alleged offender’s extradition back to Victoria. The alleged offender will face charges of the murder and rape of Sierra Carson-Mills and the statutory rape of three other teenage victims.

  I watch the footage. Police escort the handcuffed man from a white weatherboard house with freshly cut lawn and blooming rosebushes out the front. They guide him around the small tricycle on the footpath, his face covered with a jumper. A detective waits on the outside of the white picket fence. As they approach, the detective opens the gate. They walk through the gate towards a car. The man sits in the middle of the back seat – a detective gets into the car after him, and then one goes around to the other side. The man keeps his head down as the car drives away. The camera follows the car and then swings back to the house. The house number is blurred.

  The most recent photo of Sierra from my website is in the corner of the TV screen.

  Three other victims … Why did he let the others go? What did Sierra do differently? She must have done something – said the wrong thing, found out something he didn’t want her to know. It could have been as simple as Sierra changing her mind, deciding she didn’t want to stay overnight with him. Maybe something
spooked her …

  Callum, Riley, Mum and I can’t take our eyes off the TV. I flick over to try to find the same footage on a different channel – we want to see it again. It must be the leading story because we’re able to watch it numerous times. I’m not sure what I was expecting him to be like, but the guy I see on the screen isn’t it. That neat, pretty weatherboard house isn’t it, either. I thought he’d live in some dark, cave-like shack, alone, hiding from the world. There’s a kid’s trike in the front yard. Does he have a partner and child? Does he move among us as a normal, functional family man? A shudder passes through my shoulders. I stand up, walk into the kitchen and then back to the lounge. I can’t stay still.

  I’m washed out from lack of sleep. My stomach is either too empty or sick, I can’t tell which, but I’m not game to put anything in it. I ask the others if they want anything to eat. Riley shakes her head. Callum stares at nothing.

  Our phones start ringing: friends from school, Riley and Callum’s parents, some of Mum’s work friends. Mum heads for her bedroom. I know she’ll be keen to speak to Rachel.

  Riley hangs up. ‘Mum’s coming to get me,’ she says.

  ‘Are you going to be all right?’ I ask. Her eyes well.

  ‘I’ll be okay,’ she says. Her face twists with pain. Riley keeps flooding with tears and is still crying when her mum arrives. Callum walks her out to the car, hugs her and then comes back inside. It’s a huge change to see Riley like this. She’s always shied away from emotional people.

  Callum slouches on the couch, exhausted.

  ‘I might go too,’ he says.

  I nod. But I don’t want him to.

  ‘So what do we do now?’ I ask.

  He looks at me. ‘I don’t know,’ he says.

  It suddenly seems silly not to say what we want or how we feel. Playing guessing games is so ridiculous. I need to know how he feels, what he wants. And I want him to know how I feel, regardless of the outcome.

  ‘I’ve got some things I want to say. It may seem bizarre to you that I’m saying them right now, at this minute, but, to me, it feels like it’s exactly the right time.’ My eyes flicker from his face to the coffee table. ‘I’ve had a crush on you since the year-seven school camp when we were rollerskating and Izzy got out of control and collected me on her way down. I remember I skidded along the cement, and I remember that you rolled past her and stopped to help me up. I was so embarrassed. My knee was bleeding but I pretended it didn’t hurt. I never told anyone about my crush, not even Sierra. I just about remember every conversation we’ve had since that day, and I make a conscious effort not to stare at you all day at school.