by Brown, Honey
Nathan’s mum let go of his hands. She got to her feet. She’d paled. ‘We’ll go down then.’
His parents stood outside the bedroom while Nathan put the chair under the desk, ejected the Summer Hits ’84 cassette he’d been listening to and put it away in its case. You could hear, down in the kitchen, Sarina and Kieran talking. Sarina’s voice was musical, her laughter in particular. Nathan straightened the doona where his mum and dad had creased it. He put on his shoes. Tied his laces. That morning he’d put on jeans and a zip-up tracksuit top, a red T-shirt underneath.
Around the house were framed photos of the family. Pictures from before Nathan had been taken. There were no recent photographs.
Sarina had left. Nathan’s other sister, Tamara, slid open the dining room glass door and was about to come inside. Small drops of rain glistened in her hair. She had a chubby face. Her voice contained a squeak. Every second or third word came out higher than the rest, not very musical, but interesting all the same. She saw them, saw Kieran and the detective sitting at the kitchen table, and slowed her progress.
‘G’day, Nathan, mate,’ Kieran said. ‘Hello, Tamara.’
She waved her hand towards a jumper balled on a bench. ‘Sorry. Just grabbing that.’
The tight corduroy pants she was wearing were the ones she’d worn the day before, and the day before that. The skivvy was perhaps from the day before as well. A slob, a grot, Sarina called her. A normal teenager, their mother said.
‘Each time I see you, Nath, you look bigger. You’ll be taller than your dad soon.’
Kieran wasn’t in uniform. The man with him was in a suit. He looked familiar. Adam might have spoken to him before. He said hello as though they’d met, smiling gently, nodding, using Nathan’s name. So many gently smiling faces. It was hard to distinguish them, remember them, because they were so softened. Lots of moderated voices too. As though Adam’s ears might need protecting. Did they think he was too sensitive to hear a person’s proper tone? They should have heard Billy’s voice. Too fuckin’ right.
Nathan sat down across from Kieran and the detective.
Sarina rushed in the front door. ‘Forgot the keys.’ She took the car keys from the sideboard and rushed out again, the wind caught the door as she went to close it. It slammed shut. ‘Sorry!’ she called from outside.
At least Nathan’s sisters had stopped smiling gently at him. Nathan had caught them, more than once, exchanging eye rolls when they thought he wasn’t looking. They could be relied on for some kind of animation and reaction.
‘Mitch, I should’ve mentioned,’ the detective said, ‘we’re going to need that photo back.’
Before Nathan’s dad, or anyone else, could go to get the photo from Nathan’s bedroom, Nathan got up.
He felt all adults’ eyes follow him as he walked down the hallway.
‘William Benson. He’s spent time in youth facilities and in state care. His parents lived together. Father worked. Evidence of domestic violence . . . That’s covering what we’ve already told you . . .’ Kieran paused to light a smoke as Nathan sat back down. Nathan’s mum had brought out the guest ashtray. It was made of coloured glass. Dark red. Heavy. Kieran maybe thought the ashtray always sat in the centre of the kitchen table, beside the salt and pepper shakers. It didn’t. He offered the open packet of cigarettes around. Everyone declined.
‘What the detectives have pieced together,’ Kieran tapped his lighter on the paperwork in front of him, ‘is detailed and fairly . . . ’ He glanced at the detective. Kieran sucked on his cigarette. The faint crackle could be heard. Adam watched the cigarette tip glow. Drifting across was that first-puff smell, a lingering hint of lighter gas. ‘Maybe you should run through it, Peter?’
‘We told Nathan it would be you,’ Nathan’s mother said.
‘No disrespect, Pete,’ his father added.
‘It’s fine. We came prepared.’ The detective moved his chair along to create distance between him and Kieran. He flipped the notepad cover over, clicked his pen, laid it on the pad. ‘I understand you’re comfortable with Kieran.’
Kieran dragged the papers closer. He cleared his throat. It was probably only because Nathan knew about the surfing, but it was like you could see the ocean in Kieran, his face and his body reminded Nathan of the beach. Fine white hairs on his temples, cracked lips, strong limbs, a far-off, lost-at-sea look in his eyes, and a wide-as-a-beach smile. Kieran wasn’t moderated. He joked. Swore. He was a gust of salty, or, more like it, cigarette-filled air. Nathan breathed it in.
‘By going through what Peter and his team have put together here, they’re thinking, it might help you remember, Nath, mate, or it might help you see why they need some police action. A bit of this info your parents would have already heard . . .’ his voice trailed off while he skimmed the first page. ‘What’s prompted some action,’ he scratched his head, took a drag, exhaled, ‘is that the shed fire was deliberately lit . . . yes . . . and the photo . . .’ Kieran read, gathered his thoughts. ‘Okay, so it’s been discovered that William and his family once lived beside Miloslav Kovac. Miloslav being, obviously, the man who took you from the market, Nath, and the man who died in the fire. A call was made to Miloslav the night before he died. The call has been traced to the Barbary Street house, made . . .’ Kieran was reading again, ‘when you and William are thought to have been there.’ Kieran tapped his ash, looked up. ‘Do you remember anything about that call or anything from that time?’
‘No.’
The detective moved his pen and shifted in his seat. Kieran glanced at him.
‘Actually . . . let me make that a bit easier for you, Nath,’ Kieran said. ‘We’re gonna keep it simple. Were you in the house with William at the time he made the call to Miloslav Kovac?’
Nathan shook his head.
‘That’s a no, mate?’
Nathan shook his head again.
‘Okay, well, let me tell you why we need to know and what the detectives are thinking. They believe William rang Miloslav to organise to meet him at the shed the following morning. William chose the shed because it was where Marta Vander lived. William’s intention was to light a fire with them both in the shed.’
‘That’s not true.’
The detective started jotting.
Kieran’s gaze lightened encouragingly. ‘That’s all we need from you, Nath. That’s great. Now, there’s a reason, of course, why they have that suspicion.’ He read then, as though unsure of that very reason.
The detective pushed the tip of his pen against his chin, watched Kieran with a wrinkled brow.
‘Yes . . . because . . . like I said, the detectives went back and discovered that William lived beside Miloslav at the time of the abduction, and William was at the market with him the day you were taken.’
Kieran’s eyes rose to meet Nathan’s. Everyone was looking at Nathan. Watching. Waiting. The information was meant as a test. His mum and dad were staring expectantly at Nathan too.
Kieran restated it, this time with the gravity he was perhaps meant to use the first time. ‘William was at the market the day you were abducted.’
Nathan listened to the weather blustering its way onto the verandah. He thought about how he hadn’t heard Sarina’s car start up and go off down the long driveway. In the country you’d expect to hear something like that, a car going, or coming. But it wasn’t the case. Space, open paddocks, meant that noises sometimes lifted and took flight, disappeared, or they mixed in with the other sounds and were blended away. But then again, on other days, a sound could carry across the largest of the paddocks, travel the longest distances. Nathan’s dad’s tractor could sound like it was idling next to the house, when, in fact, it was in the hilly paddock far away. No buildings here, no walls, no high fences to trap sounds or bounce them back at you in a way that was regular or expected. It was all up to the sky. Whatever the sky wanted to do that day.
They’d all stopped looking at him and were looking down.
Kieran
scratched between his eyes.
‘Marta Vander,’ he read, ‘was questioned further and confirmed William was there that day. She drove him home. She recalls Miloslav saying to keep an eye out for William. Throughout her questioning she has denied being a part of any abduction plan. She claims only knowing Nathan had been taken after she had dropped William home and went next door to the kennels. She says she discovered Miloslav with Nathan . . .’ Kieran read ahead, skipped over details, ‘. . . says he threatened her because she had found them, and that he then hatched a plan to include her and her brother, to insure she wouldn’t talk. Detectives believe she’s lying. They believe it was premeditated, with William playing the part of luring Nathan away from the market, and Marta providing an alibi for Miloslav when he was questioned as to what time he left the market. If William’s fear of being uncovered as an accomplice in the abduction was extreme enough, it explains how the fire came to be lit, why Miloslav and Marta were targeted. It explains why William took you from the house, Nath. Why he took you from the hospital.’ Kieran read the next question from the page. ‘Did William tell you he was involved in your abduction at the market?’
For this one, Nathan watched the thin tendril of smoke wind up from the tip of Kieran’s cigarette into the air. The ducted heating kicked in, the flow of warm air swirling the vine of smoke away. The influx of heat helped with the chill creeping into the air.
His mum got up. She took the empty cups.
‘Would you like another drink? I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘Thanks, Pauline, that’d be lovely.’
‘Okay, let’s look at this . . .’ Kieran turned to the next sheet. He read a moment. Smoked the last of his cigarette, stubbed it out. ‘The day you were discovered at the diner. On that same day William’s father was shot and killed at the Newhaven Hill Caravan Park. I think this has been mentioned to you before, right, Nath? The shooting took place only two hours before we met in the diner. Originally, you were told that the shooting was believed to be a result of an argument William’s parents had. But since then, it’s been discovered that the bullets used were from a batch found at the Barbary Street house.’ He looked up from the page. ‘The detectives now believe the gun used was stolen from the Barbary Street house, and that William stole the gun to take to the caravan park and shoot his father.’
Nathan shook his head.
‘Were you in the caravan at the time of the shooting?’
In the kitchen, at the sink, rinsing the cups, Nathan’s mother stopped and bowed her head. Her jaw clenched. Her ragged breathing could be heard. Nathan’s father was staring through the archway, into the lounge room. His chest rose with a deep breath.
‘It’s hard,’ Kieran said, having glanced at both of them, ‘none of us think it’s fair, Nath, that you might have been there. It was . . . I’ve seen the pictures of the shooting . . . not something anyone would want to see. We all think the same. If you were there, you shouldn’t have been. Joe Vander was dead; you should have been safe. You weren’t. And that’s what everyone is trying to get to the bottom of here, mate. Your ordeal should have been over, but it wasn’t.’
‘It was.’
‘Did William tell you how involved he was in the abduction?’
‘He didn’t need to.’
‘We know he was a kid when it all started, no one is saying he wasn’t, but . . . he’s done things since, mate. They can’t be ignored.’
‘Only because he had to do them.’
‘Are you saying he shot his father?’
‘No.’
‘Did he light the shed fire?’
‘No.’
‘He’s had opportunities to change his life.’
‘He wanted to change.’
‘It doesn’t seem that way, mate.’
‘He was threatened.’
‘By who?’
The detective suddenly leaned forward. ‘Everyone has tried to help him. He doesn’t want help. He planned to murder. He injured Marta Vander in the hope she wouldn’t talk. Joe Vander’s death wasn’t due to natural causes. William did that too.’
‘No.’
‘He eliminated every single person who could put him at the market that day. They’re all dead. That’s not a coincidence. The reason he didn’t take you to the police was because he had to do that first.’
‘It’s not true.’
‘He was protecting himself, not you.’
‘It didn’t happen like that.’
‘What he did was incredibly calculated and criminal. William is not someone you want to be protecting. His damaging behaviour started as a child, and has continued.’
‘It’s not true.’
The detective reached for the photo of Monty and Jerry. He held it and waved it. ‘He sent you this? So you trust him?’
‘I do trust him.’
‘We tracked down this house. These two dogs . . .’ The detective dropped the photo onto the table again. ‘Billy killed them. After he took that.’
‘No,’ Nathan breathed.
Kieran’s head swung around. He stared perplexed at the detective.
‘He killed the dogs?’ Nathan’s mother said.
‘Peter.’ Nathan’s dad lifted his hand and held it open. ‘You didn’t tell us that?’
‘Oh my god. He killed the dogs? Why didn’t you tell us that? We wouldn’t have shown it to Nathan . . . Nathan?’
The detective leaned back. He jiggled his pen between his two fingers. Red crept up his throat. Nathan noticed the small pin on his lapel. A gold cross.
Billy.
No other policeman called Billy that.
Kieran shuffled the papers. ‘Okay . . .’
‘It’s not true.’ Nathan pushed back from the table. ‘He wouldn’t do that.’
‘Nathan,’ his mum had come across, ‘we didn’t know about the dogs, they didn’t tell us. We wouldn’t have agreed to any of this if —’
‘It’s okay. They’re not dead. Billy wouldn’t do that.’
‘Peter? Why didn’t you tell us he’d killed the dogs?’
‘Can’t you see he’s a liar?’ Nathan said.
Nathan went to the glass sliding door, looked out at the sheeting rain.
‘Trick a criminal into telling you what you need to know,’ his dad was saying, ‘but do not trick my son.’
‘Some pressure is sometimes needed if we’re ever going to get anywhere.’
‘By lying?’
‘If you ask me, they’re as good as dead. Everyone else William gets anywhere near ends up dead.’
‘This is exactly why we insist on Kieran.’
‘We need some movement, Mitch.’
‘Don’t come in here and tell me what it’s going to take for my son to open up. You lot were the ones who walked through that house and missed what anyone with half a brain would have seen.’
‘You know it’s been —’
‘How many times did the woman next door ring the police and tell them homeless boys were constantly in and out of that house? Out of all those calls, how many times did a cop actually step inside the door?’
‘It’s not that simple. Officers can’t —’
‘Call after call after call.’ Nathan’s dad held up a finger. ‘One search, one time, one walk through that house, one enquiry, one check.’ His body was tense. He sounded out of breath. ‘Don’t make my son think it’s up to him, it’s on his shoulders; it’s on your head.’
‘We’ll go.’
‘You’ll go,’ Nathan’s father said, pointing at the detective. ‘I’d like to talk to Kieran.’
The detective packed up the paperwork. He put the photo of Monty and Jerry in the folder. Nathan’s dad came to stand beside Nathan at the door. He unlatched it and slid it open. The cold and damp blew in on them. Nathan’s dad shut his eyes to it. Behind them, the detective said goodbye to Nathan’s mum, thanked her for the coffee. He went to leave.
‘Peter,’ Nathan’s dad opened his eyes and said, ‘ever thi
nk about the one person around William Benson who didn’t end up dying?’
‘Good luck or good management. That’s all I’m saying.’
‘Damn good management I would say, if you look at the three who are dead.’
‘I’ll be waiting in the car, Kieran.’
Kieran cringed once he’d gone. ‘I don’t know what happened there.’
‘He lied. That’s what happened.’
Kieran checked over his shoulder that the front door had shut. ‘It’s not like him.’
Nathan’s mum pulled the sliding door closed. She looked at Nathan’s dad, touched his arm. ‘Sit down. Both of you.’
Nathan went with his father to the table.
‘I don’t know,’ Kieran said as they sat. ‘Media has dropped right off. No one is baying for blood. Within the ranks everyone thinks like you do, Mitch. Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving bunch of . . . people. Peter’s getting pressure from somewhere, though.’
‘How much is true?’
‘I don’t get briefed. I just get told what to say.’
‘How close are they to finding him?’
‘I’m not sure. The photo has them believing that William and Nathan might be closer than they first thought. They think Nathan knows where he is.’ Kieran exhaled his smoke and then smiled close-lipped at Nathan. ‘The dogs are fine. I’ve seen them myself.’
‘All we want to know is that Nathan is safe. Is William as dangerous as they’re making him out to be?’
Kieran scratched his jaw. ‘For me, where things tend to fall down, is that anyone who actually saw William and Nathan together, including me,’ he tipped his head, ‘can only testify to the fact that the two of them looked like a pair of good mates. William wasn’t hiding him. He wasn’t hiding himself . . . There are questions. William’s mother, and the caravan caretaker, they’re lying about what happened with the shooting. The two of them can’t get their stories straight. One minute they’re saying Nathan wasn’t there at all, next they’re saying he was down at the caretaker’s residence. And it’s hard to ignore that a call was made to Miloslav. No one can work out why they were all at the shed. Autopsy reveals Miloslav was beaten before he died. Marta was beaten. Joe Vander had signs of being beaten . . . but . . . is it exactly like Peter thinks? I don’t know. I guess only Nath knows. It’s not beyond all realms of possibility that William didn’t try and get rid of everyone who could put him there that day. But, like you say, Mitch, if that’s the case, if he’s that ruthless, why deliver Nathan safe and sound, why sit him down in the diner to be found? And why drag Marta Vander from the fire? If anyone was going to talk, it was going to be her . . . I’ve said this before but William, to me, he came off like a tough kid but a good kid.’
