Candice was checking the clock almost every minute. It wasn’t like Jack to be late. Ever since she’d been diagnosed he’d made a point of being home before dark. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time he had been late. Today, though, the sun had set several hours ago and still no sign of him.
If she’d had the strength to pace she would have worn a track in the lino floor. If she could have phoned him, she would have. But he didn’t have an office where he sat at a desk all day. He moved around. No two days were the same. And she had no idea which part of the city he was working in today. If she had a car she would’ve gone out looking for him, despite being under doctor’s orders not to drive.
She’d rung all her friends, trying not to sound anxious and feeling terrible when she cut the calls short, but none of them had seen Jack today. The only thing she could do was sit and wait and try not to get stressed out. Maybe he had a flat tyre. Or had broken down somewhere. That wouldn’t surprise her. The ute was second-hand when he’d bought it. Luckily Jimmy was a fairly decent mechanic. If only he had stayed with his mechanic job, rather than the other stuff he got messed up in. Candice eased a little at the thought of Jack being with his brother. She hadn’t seen Jimmy for years. Jack wouldn’t let her join him when he visited his brother in jail. He’d said it wasn’t any place for a lady. Especially a sick one.
She turned on the television. It crackled to life and she sat back to watch the late news. She gripped the table at the reporter’s opening comment about a serious car accident on the Story Bridge in which two people had died. Easing forward on the seat, she studied the carnage on the screen. “Police are still trying to piece together how the truck came to be on its side.”
She saw the truck now, and then she saw the other car. It was red. Immediate relief flooded through her. Guilt struck her just as fast. She suddenly felt terrible for the people who had lost their lives in that crash. She knew only too well how precious life was.
Maybe Jack was just caught in the banked-up traffic. She checked the clock again. Nearly ten past eight. The footage on the television had been filmed during daylight. Surely the roads wouldn’t have taken that long to clear?
“We’ll take a short break now and return in a moment with today’s extraordinary headlines.” The television flicked to an annoyingly loud advertisement selling appliances Candice could only dream about. She stood up to turn the volume down and used the opportunity to fill her water glass.
When the news came back on, she turned it up and eased back onto the bench seat. But what she saw on the television made her gasp. It was Jack. His hands were behind his back and a balding man in a police uniform was leading him up the front steps of the Brisbane courthouse. Jack’s face was ashen. His eyes were darting about, fearful and confused, and he seemed to have sunk into his own body. Reporters were thrusting microphones into his face. Candice fought for a breath. The room began to swim. Words tumbled from the television in a jumbled cacophony.
“Robbery…gang…missing money.”
She reached for her personal alarm, but as she followed the line with her fingers, her world twisted and her vision wobbled. She tumbled off the chair, gasping as a searing pain shot to her forehead.
The last thing she saw was a dead fly beneath the fridge. Then everything went black.