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Three patrol cars had parked off the highway. A white Hilux was parked in front, its driver’s side door hung open. Crime scene tape formed a barrier, and Sergeant Green engaged in deep discussion with three other police officers.
Oh, Jesus Christ, George. Please don’t be fucking dead.
I pulled up behind Constable Hunter’s squad car and got out.
Sergeant Green approached me with his hands raised, palms out.
‘Mr. Kowalski, I need to warn you. There’s blood spray on the passenger exterior and traces of blood on the surrounding soil. I’ve contacted the crime scene investigators, and they need to come down from Wollongong, so it’ll be a while until we can have the scene properly investigated.’
Regret welled in my stomach. I swore several times.
‘I understand this is a stressful time,’ he continued. ‘But I’ll need you to stand clear of the site so you don’t disturb any potential evidence.’
‘Have you notified Carmine Demich?’
‘Yes, as soon as the sighting was reported.’
‘Is there a chance George is alive?’
‘Assuming the blood is his, it’s not likely. I’m sorry...’
‘How can you be so sure?’
Green hesitated. ‘There are traces of extensive brain matter present on the car. From what I can deduce, it’s consistent with a gunshot wound to the head. The blood’s congealed. I’m no expert, but the incident may have occurred between 11PM and 12AM last night.’
He crossed to an area a few feet from the car and pointed at the gravel. ‘Those marks indicate he may have been dragged in this direction.’
He enacted the scene outside of the crime scene tape by holding imaginary arms in front of his body and walking backwards. ‘They end there where his body may have been transferred to a waiting vehicle—maybe an SUV, a van, or something similar.’
I walked to the front of the Hilux, strained to see the passenger side, and spotted the blood spatter over the passenger window, pillars, and door handle. A sense of overwhelming loss washed over me.
Mannaggia.
‘I was only having a drink with him yesterday,’ I muttered to no one in particular.
Constable Hunter faced me squarely. ‘Do you need some time, Mr. Kowalski?’
The way she said it sounded more like a challenge than a compassionate query.
‘I’m fine,’ I said with some spite that surprised me. Maybe she’d just put on a front for the Sergeant, but either way, I didn’t need her bullshit.
Sergeant Green squinted against the sun that broke through a large cumulus. It appeared higher in the sky but the light wasn’t stronger. ‘You said you were drinking with him yesterday?’
‘At a little after six, at the RSL. Jesus Christ. I hope he’s okay.’
Constable Hunter frowned. ‘He is?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You referred to George Demich in the present tense. ‘I hope he is okay.’’
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d made the effort to go her way in the morning, but that all seemed for naught. ‘Sue, unless I see a body I believe George is still alive.’
Sergeant Green interjected. ‘Did you see him leave the other night? Do you know where he went or what he did when he left the RSL?’
‘We left around 6:30 PM. He said he had to go back to work to finish reconditioning an engine on a mate’s car.’
‘We’re going to have to get a statement from you over the next couple of days. Keep yourself available. Do you mind if I get your mobile number?’
I gave him my business card and returned Constable Hunter’s icy glare, then stepped around the car to inspect the area for any clues.
George had pulled the car right off the road. Perhaps there was a car already here, broken down. Perhaps someone had waved him down and lured him into a trap.
‘It’s too coincidental,’ I said. ‘Rob last week and George this week, exactly a week apart? Think he’s been targeted?’
‘You suspect it’s the same person or persons?’ Sergeant Green said.
‘Same MO. Rob could have been lured out to the site. It looks like George may have also been lured into an isolated location. No witnesses. Maybe someone watched them, knew their movements, knew their routines.’
‘We’ll canvass and try to attain witnesses who may have seen anything last night,’ Sergeant Green said.
Constable Hunter crossed her arms. ‘Unfortunately, the likelihood of finding the victim alive within forty-eight hours diminishes with each passing hour.’
‘His name is George, and I’m going to find him.’
‘I understand this is a distressing time,’ she said in that bureaucratic voice. ‘But you can’t ignore the physical evidence. Trace evidence of gunfire and the potential headshot indicates the victim is deceased, Mr. Kowalski. The abandoned car, the blood spatter, the drag marks.... You can’t stare into the face of scientific evidence and deny it.’
I said, ‘It’s almost as if you wish he’s dead.’
She remained silent.
I continued. ‘Until the results come back conclusive or you find a body, I say he’s alive.’
What was I going to say to Carmine? To Zio Fausto? Horrible pangs of anxiety hit my stomach. Was George missing because of me? I couldn’t figure out if that was arrogance, or genuine concern talking. A million different scenarios bounced around my head at once.
Constable Hunter met my eyes and shook her head slowly. She removed a business card from a pouch on her police belt and held it out to me. ‘Here’s the phone numbers for a highly recommended counsellor. There’s no need to feel embarrassed or humiliated about seeking help.’
‘Shove your fucking counselling up your fucking arse.’
I stormed back to my car and pulled away in a spray of gravel. I pushed the ute to a hundred and thirty back into Sussex, and the wheels lost traction at a particularly sharp bend....
