‘I know.’
‘But listen,’ Samir says, his voice urgent now. He brackets my neck with the fingers of each hand, lifts my chin with his thumbs. ‘If it comes to it, I can help. Just let me sort some things out – finances, whatever else. Okay?’
‘It might be too late by then.’
The Haddads’s front door slams and Samir winces. ‘I’d better go. Sit tight, okay?’
‘Wait!’ I hand him the envelope. ‘If anything … happens, will you give this to Erica for me?
Samir nods. ‘Of course.’ He kisses me on the forehead and leaves.
I take out my phone and dial Rob. It rings six times before he picks up.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s me. I was just wondering … Do you know when you’ll be home?’
Rob sighs, a world-weary sound. ‘I’m not coming home tonight, Dee.’
‘When then? I … I miss you.’
‘Dee …’
‘Ruby does too,’ I whisper.
A pause. His next words sound strained. ‘Soon. There are some things that need to be said.’
Chapter 21
Liz
June, 2017
Saturday, 9pm
I’m staring at the article, the words blurring together. Mother and daughter were last seen … I struggle to swallow, struggle to breathe, as the gravity of it hits me.
‘Oh, fuck.’
‘What is it? Apart from the obvious.’
‘I was the last one to see her, Adam. I was the last person to see Dee.’
Adam looks at me quizzically. ‘What do you mean? When?’
‘I saw her that night. After they’re saying she went missing.’
‘What? Are you sure, Lizzie?’ Adam places a hand on my arm.
I yank my arm away. ‘I didn’t imagine it, if that’s what you’re suggesting.’
It irks me that Adam talks down to me sometimes, as if I can’t be trusted to know my own mind. There were a couple of instances where I lost track of my meds, I’ll admit, and maybe I did exaggerate a few things, like the time I thought the guy in the flat next door was stealing from us. But I’d been through a trauma so recently. It’s only natural I’d become a little paranoid. He can’t keep using the past as a reason not to believe anything I say. Thinking he knows best is a downside of the age gap, I suppose.
Adam looks hurt. ‘I wasn’t suggesting you were. I just meant are you sure it was after the neighbour saw her, or—’
‘I’m sure,’ I say, heading to the kitchen. Adam follows me. ‘They’re saying she was last seen Wednesday afternoon, but that isn’t right. She came over. She was here,’ I grab the already half empty bottle of red and top up his glass, then mine.
‘God, yes, please,’ Adam groans, plonks himself in a dining chair and takes a large swallow. ‘Hang on, what? She was here?’
‘Yes! She came over at around eleven, I suppose. She was a bit drunk and took me quite by surprise. I thought the knock at the door was you, at first, that maybe the road had been cleared and you’d come back, but then it was Dee at the door.’
Adam furrows his brow. ‘How odd. Why would she come here?’
‘I have no idea. She said she wanted company.’
‘Why didn’t you mention it before?’
I take a swallow of wine and pace the floor. ‘I meant to! But then Thursday was our ‘anniversary’ and yesterday you were back … Shit! I knew something terrible had happened.’
‘What would make you think that?’
‘Well, she seemed afraid, for one thing.’
‘Afraid of what?’
I sigh. ‘I’m not sure. She never said. But she had a black eye, and she was talking about things not being great at home.’
Adam takes a deep breath. ‘Doesn’t sound good, Lizzie.’
I shiver. ‘Tell me about it.’
Adam stares out of the window, looking pensive. ‘Shit.’
‘I haven’t been out today,’ I murmur. ‘I got started on some of the junk in the basement. They must have been here … the police, searching. They think she was last seen on the bridge, so that’s where they’ll be looking. Come to think of it, I did hear a helicopter earlier.’
We look out of the kitchen window, but all the windows are dark in the middle house, and there’s no sign of anything out on the water. ‘Why aren’t they out there now, searching for her?’
‘Maybe the police have a lead that’s taken them elsewhere. This newspaper is basically info-tainment – you know how they love to sensationalise things. If they were concerned she’d drowned, they’d be out there now.’ Adam places a hand on my arm. ‘Sit down, Lizzie, you’re making me nervous.’
I can’t sit down, I’m buzzing. ‘Something bad has happened. I know it.’ I stop and bite my lip. ‘What do I do, Adam? Should I call the police? I saw someone. A man. In the house with her. That night. And then she was here. And her husband was away, so it couldn’t have been her husband. Could it? Could it?’
Adam drags a hand across his eyes. He looks exhausted. ‘Slow down, Lizzie.’
But I can’t slow down. I feel as high as a kite. This is too similar for my liking. Too much like before. I slosh another dose of red into my glass and slug it as I pace the kitchen floor. ‘What if I’m the only one who knows about this? I have to say something. Don’t I?’
Adam blinks at me. He looks pale. Worried. ‘Jesus, Lizzie. Yes. Yes, you have to say something.’ He sips his wine and looks at me with knowing eyes.
‘Oh God, it’s happened again.’ I whisper.
Adam reaches out and squeezes my arm. ‘You don’t know that yet. She’s only missing, it could be for any reason.’
I nod, the back of my eyes stinging with tears.
Adam pulls me onto his lap. ‘It might not be so bad, darling. She might have just gone out of phone range, “off grid” for a bit?’
‘But she was afraid. Of what – or whom – she didn’t say. But I didn’t imagine it. And there’s something else. I heard a scream, later, during the storm. Around two I suppose? And I saw Samir … He was dragging something out of the house. Dee’s house. Oh God, what if it’s him? What if he’s killed her?’
‘Hey, hey, calm down, baby. Why would Samir do something like that?’
‘I don’t know … I … I don’t know. Maybe they were involved somehow? Like … an affair gone wrong?’
Adam’s eyes widen. ‘Did she tell you that?’
‘No, no. I just got the sense that not all was well at home and that maybe … maybe there was someone else. She mentioned a ‘lover’s tiff’. And she did have that black eye.’
Adam stares blankly at the wall and I finally stop pacing and stand at the counter.
‘I wonder when Rob will get back,’ Adam says flatly. ‘God, the poor guy. Imagine though, if you’re right … about the affair thing. Imagine if his wife’s missing and’—he shakes his head—‘and then to find out she was …’
I perch on Adam’s knee, put my arm around his shoulder and lean in. I know he’s thinking of what happened with Brett and Beth and it still has the power to make my blood boil. Everything somehow ends up coming back to that. ‘I know, baby.’
He looks at me, seeming confused for a moment. ‘Sorry, that’s not—’ He tries to smile. ‘I’m sure Samir had a perfectly legitimate reason to be there that night. And this has all been some kind of misunderstanding. That’s the most likely explanation. Rob’s away; maybe Samir was helping out around the house. Taking the garbage out or something.’
‘In the middle of the night?’
‘Sometimes people forget to put out their bins. Could you tell what Samir was carrying?’
‘No. It was dark – there was a blackout here that night. I only caught a glimpse when an automatic light went on. It must have been solar powered or something. Or the power had come back on briefly. It was on and off the whole next day.’
I close my eyes and see a halo of red hair surrounding a cherubic infant’s sweet, round fac
e.
Gazing out of the window, I spot the bouncing light of a torch once more, and the little square of amber appears in the shed. And then another light, followed by several more, emerge from the scrub at the far end of the creek where the footbridge is. They dance over the water’s surface, aimed downwards.
And then the unmistakeable, rhythmic chop-chop-chop-chop of a helicopter sounds in the distance, drawing nearer and nearer.
Adam’s eyes meet mine, his expression grim.
They’re searching for her.
***
Sunday, 9:55am
I called the police last night and they asked if I wouldn’t mind coming in to make a formal statement. When we cross the water, there is police tape all around Dee’s house, and people in high-vis gear are still scattered around the creek. But what if they’re searching for nothing? What if she wasn’t even anywhere near the creek that night?
Adam drives us to the police station, and we barely exchange a word on the way. I’m jittery with nerves, trying not to think about the last time I spoke to police. The two strong cups of coffee I had with breakfast haven’t helped, and I’m a wired mess by the time we reach town.
The shirt I’ve worn is synthetic, some cheap H&M number, a stupid choice for today. The material doesn’t breathe and I can feel the cold, damp patches beneath my arms, hidden – thankfully – by the jacket I’ve thrown over the top. This is what passes for winter over here?
‘Relax, Lizzie, it will be fine,’ Adam says. ‘Just tell them what you know.’
‘They’ll probably want to speak to you too.’
‘Of course, they will. It’s just protocol. It makes sense that they would interview anyone living nearby. I imagine they didn’t realise anyone was staying over the other side of the creek or we’d have heard from them sooner.’
‘Thanks for getting in touch with us,’ says a short, bottom-heavy police officer with sleek black hair pulled tightly back in a pony-tail. She smiles at Adam, then at me, and I recognise her voice as the woman I spoke to on the phone. ‘I’m Sergeant Jamison.’
The man standing beside her introduces himself as Sergeant Harris. He’s broad shouldered yet he stands with a slouch, as though carrying a heavy backpack. His expression is neutral, but his eyes seem friendly enough, even though he’s barely spoken two words since I arrived. He has a long, bulbous nose – almost phallic – coated in an unhealthy sheen; I don’t want to stare at it so I try to focus on his eyes.
‘Yes. Er, no problem.’
Adam goes in first, as he needs to leave for work afterwards and, apparently, we need to be spoken to separately. I was hoping we could have done it together, it would have helped ease my nerves, but I’ll just have to deal with what needs to be done.
Shortly after Adam leaves, I find myself on a hard-backed plastic chair, the kind you find in schools, in a small, square room with sparse furniture, fluorescent lights and no artwork or decorations of any kind on the walls or shelves. It strikes me as a cross between a hospital room and a depressingly small office.
‘Mrs Dawson,’ Jamison starts. ‘Are you ready to begin?’
‘Yes.’
Jamison smiles and presses a button on an ancient-looking recording device that reminds me of one my father had when I was a child. Honestly, are the police force too tight for more up-to-date technology? ‘Can you confirm that you’re aware that this interview will be recorded for the purposes of evidence in the missing persons case of Mrs Delilah Waters and Ruby Waters?’
I nod.
‘For the tape, please.’
‘Oh. Sorry. Yes.’
‘Great. So, on the phone you said …’ Jamison flicks through a notepad. She’s younger than I first thought. Mid-twenties, perhaps. ‘You saw Mrs Waters on Wednesday night, the day before she was reported missing, correct?’
‘Yes. I read in the paper that her neighbour Erica was the last person to see her, but that isn’t true. I saw Dee much later than that. At around 11pm?’
I hate that I’m making it sound like a question, as if I’m unsure. The nerves are getting the better of me. The last time I was in a room like this, I was interrogated until I burst into tears. I don’t realise I’m tapping my foot at manic speed on the floor until Harris eyes it pointedly. I stop and fold my hands in my lap.
‘Okay,’ Jamison says, meeting my eye for the first time. ‘And can you describe, in your own words, the circumstances of your interaction with Mrs Waters on that occasion?’
‘Yes, of course. Well, I was asleep, and I heard a knock at the door. I thought it was my husband at first, but that would be a bit difficult seeing as the roads were closed that night due to the fires and he’d been unable to get back into town so was staying in Sydney …’ I take a deep breath, aware that I’m rambling. I try to calm down. ‘But when I answered the door, it was Dee standing there. I invited her in, and we shared a glass of wine together.’
‘Had you met Mrs Waters before this occasion?’
‘Yes, at the pub. But we barely spoke.’
‘In that case, why do you think Mrs Waters might show up at a relative stranger’s door?’
‘I have no idea and thought it very odd myself. I had wondered whether she’d been expecting Tim to be there – that’s Adam’s father. He used to live there but passed recently, but she didn’t seem to know him very well.’
‘And how would you describe Mrs Waters’ state of mind when you spoke with her?’
‘Well, that’s the thing,’ I say, biting my lower lip. ‘She was okay at first, a bit tipsy as though she’d been drinking already. But then after a while she seemed … frightened of something. Or someone.’
Jamison glances over her shoulder at Harris, who still hasn’t said anything, but I can’t see her expression.
‘What makes you think she might have been scared?’
‘Well, several things really. She implied that she was having some trouble at home.’
‘Are you able to recollect her exact words?’
‘Um … well, she had a black eye. It was faded, so it could have been from a while ago. When she caught me looking she said there’d been a “lover’s tiff”.’
I’m startled by the sound of Harris clearing his throat. When he doesn’t say anything, I continue.
‘I asked her if she felt safe at home and she said no. But she didn’t say who, or what, she was afraid of … I mean, she said her husband was away. So I don’t know whether she meant him, or … or someone else.’
‘Did she give you any reason to suspect that someone other than her husband might have wanted to harm her?’
‘No … not exactly. But she got a text at about midnight, I suppose, and she had to go all of a sudden. I asked her if she was frightened of the man I’d seen standing in her doorway earlier, and she looked really scared then. She asked, “what man?” and I explained what I’d seen and then she said something about always locking her doors.’
Jamison holds eye contact with me for several seconds before writing something on her notepad.
‘Where in the house do you think you saw this man?’
‘In the doorway. The front doorway. It was open. But when I tried to look again, he’d gone and the door was shut.’
‘How can you be certain? It’s a fair way between where you were and the houses across the water. I can’t imagine you’d be able to see anything very clearly.’
My cheeks flush hot. ‘I, uh … I had binoculars.’
Jamison nods slowly. ‘I see.’
‘I wasn’t … you know, spying or anything.’ I laugh nervously ‘The binoculars happened to be there – they belonged to Adam’s father. And when I saw someone in Dee’s doorway, I suppose I … I suppose I was curious.’ I cringe inwardly at how that makes me sound.
‘What time would you say it was that you saw this man?’
‘Oh … around 10pm, I suppose.’
‘And he was there only for a moment and then disappeared?’
‘That’s right.’<
br />
‘You’re sure it was a man?’
‘Yes. He was very tall and broad – almost filling the doorway.’
‘And you didn’t see any more of Mrs Waters or anyone else in the house until Mrs Waters arrived at your home at around eleven, correct?’
‘Yes, that’s correct. It was dark, there was a blackout. And then I fell asleep, so …’
‘I see.’
For a second I see the man standing in the doorway, the feeling of exposure when the power came back on, and my spine tingles.
‘And can you remind us of what you saw later that night, after Mrs Waters left?’
‘Well, at around two or three I think it was, I was woken by a noise. At first, I thought I was dreaming, but then I heard it again – a scream. Someone shouted “Please” and then there was a scream. I rushed to the loft upstairs – it’s easier to see out from up there – and looked out of the window, but I couldn’t see or hear anything else. Well, not until Samir appeared just outside Dee’s house.’
‘Yes, you mentioned you saw Mr Haddad’—Jamison flips through her notepad—‘dragging what looked like a full garbage bag from the Waters’ residence and into his house. Is that correct?’
‘Yes. But he didn’t go into the house. Well, he might have done but I can’t be sure. He disappeared around the other side of his house and I couldn’t see anything else after that.’
‘How can you be sure it was Mr Haddad you saw?’
‘Well,’ I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, embarrassed. ‘I had the binoculars. And I’d seen him before, in person at the pub one night, and later, through the window. I recognised him immediately.’
‘I see.’
Harris pipes up then, his gravelly voice overly loud in the quiet room. ‘You mention you’d had some wine with Mrs Waters earlier that evening. Had you consumed any more alcohol before or since then? Or any other medications or drugs?’
Heat creeps up my neck and into my cheeks. ‘I’d had a bit of wine earlier. And I think I had another glass after Dee left. And I’d taken some sleeping tablets.’
‘I see. Prescription …?’
My cheeks flame. ‘Yes.’
Across the Water Page 11
