It’s been a week since we went into that house. I’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing, but they’ve put me on leave with pay for a month. And the rain hasn’t stopped. It’s been a steady flow, soaking into the ground as though the human sacrifice has appeased some god, and as a reward, he’s turning everything green and renewing the town.
I have an appointment this morning with a shrink. She’s come from Brisbane all the way out to the sticks to make sure I’m okay. The brass is still out here, holding press conferences. It’s good PR to see them carting out the marijuana plants destined for destruction. They also discovered Robert “Robbo” Elwin was running more than that. He had a whole shed full of equipment and had been manufacturing ICE. The brass even thinks I’ll end up with a promotion and my pick of stations if I play my cards right.
I just want things to go back to normal. If I do get a promotion, that’ll mean I’ll need to move. Maybe I should. It feels like I have too many ghosts following me in this town now. Grace Wickie’s parents thanked me for looking after their child.
They thanked me. Grace was green and I should have known she wouldn’t follow orders. I should have known she’d stumble into the middle of things.
As for Senior Constable Jordan, he’s also being hailed a hero, even though the stupid bastard should never have gone into that house alone. Playing the hero can get you killed—that’s why we train so hard for this job. You follow your training and hopefully, you don’t get dead. Both of them were lucky. Constable Wickie came out it with concussion and a couple of stitches in her head. Senior Constable Jordan looks like something out of a horror movie with a black eye that’s starting to go purple and stitches around his neck that give him a Frankenstein appearance, thankfully, the brass makes him cover it up with a bandage whenever he’s around the media. Wickie is on leave and rethinking her life as a police officer, while Senior Constable Jordan is itching to get back to work.
Dressed in my uniform, I go into town to seek out the shrink. She’s staying at the only B&B this town has to offer. It takes no time to get there, even with the rain. I mount the stairs two at a time and before I can knock, the owner of the B&B opens the door. Empathy for me is written over her face.
“Come in, Adam. I’ve told Doctor White to meet you in the lounge room. It’s private and I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.”
“Thank you,” I say as I follow her through the house.
She walks into a very nicely decorated room in heritage colours and motions for me to sit. “Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee, something stronger?”
“Coffee, black no sugar, would be good.”
She offers me a sad smile and hurries from the room. I glance around. There are two lounges and a pair of chairs near the fireplace. I decide the chairs near the fireplace with the little coffee table between them will probably be the most comfortable in the room and sit down.
A very well dressed woman walks into the room. She’s in her late twenties, with great curves and long brown hair.
I stand and extend my hand. “Sergeant Adam Shaw.”
With a firm handshake, she replies, “Doctor Peta White.” There’s no empathy in her eyes, only professionalism. “Please sit, Sergeant, or would you prefer Adam?”
“Adam is fine.”
“Wonderful. Call me Peta.”
Peta sits and pulls her skirt down over her knees, pad and pen at the ready.
“You do this sort of thing often?” I ask.
“Yes, my job is to determine if you are fit for work. And to make sure your emotional well-being is within the norms.”
“The norms?”
Peta chuckles and I like the sound of it. “Well, normal, but what is that, really?”
The morning goes quickly and I find her very easy to talk to. We don’t just stick to the shooting but delve into personal areas of both our lives. I feel like she’s overshared with me, more than a doctor should. I like her and I think she likes me.
“So, at the beginning of our conversation, you seemed reluctant to take the promotion. Is that still the case?” asks Peta.
“It’ll mean moving.”
“Adam, you have nothing here but the job. You deserve more.”
I grin at her and she blushes. “Maybe I’ll ask a transfer to Brisbane. Get an apartment at Kangaroo Point and you can show me the sights?”
Peta’s blush deepens. “Well, it wouldn’t be very professional of me to see you…”
“Ahh, well that settles it.”
Peta cocks her head to the side questioningly.
“You’re fired.”
Her laughter fills the room, and for the first time in a long time, I’m not looking for somewhere to exist but somewhere to live.