Rory

Rachel’s voice was high-pitched, radiating panic. ‘Sean says he’s okay. Badly bruised but he doesn’t think anything’s broken. Should I take him to hospital just in
case?’

For the first time in history, Rory was the one who had brought trouble upon his brother. It was testament to how back-to-front things were.

‘If he says he’s okay, then he’s okay,’ he said slowly. ‘We need you at home,
Rach.’

Sean was tough, used to a bit of rough and tumble: it came with the territory of being a drunk. Still, lucky the bat hadn’t hit him in the head and no bones were broken. On second thoughts, maybe it wasn’t luck. A measured degree of violence to inflict maximum impact with minimum consequences?

‘Matias Cabrera’s behind this.’ Rory was riddled with guilt. ‘He knows we were at his house this morning.’

Rachel was silent for a beat. ‘Funny you should say that. My first thought was Nico.’

A stab of hurt. ‘Why Nico?’

‘Maybe he saw me parked on his street and went ballistic. In my head, he’s becoming bigger and more dangerous with every hour that passes.’

Rory was doubtful: being parked on someone’s street was harmless compared to breaking into their house. Cabrera was a psychopath and a large-scale drug dealer. A man facing a long prison sentence, depending on the outcome of his trial.

‘Tell me what the guy said again?’

‘“Keep away from other people’s houses”. Or something like that.’

Definitely Cabrera or one of his henchmen. What next? Should they tell the police about this or keep it quiet? Did it prove motive or merely tit for tat? And would all this drama serve to distract the police from searching for Bridie?

‘We need to tell Detective Mani what’s happened,’ Rory decided, because he knew at least one truth: he didn’t have the skill set to deal with someone like Cabrera on his own.

‘I know. But he’s going to be furious. And you and Sean might be charged.’

Rory was beyond caring. He’d spend the rest of his life in prison if it meant getting Bridie back safely.

‘So we’re agreed,’ Rachel continued in a more controlled tone. ‘I’ll call the police and report the incident. And we’re fully honest about our part in provoking it.’

‘I’ll come home,’ he said. ‘They’ll want to question me.’

‘Don’t,’ she insisted. ‘From here on, we stay in teams of two. Sean’s with me, you’re with Emmet.’

Her logic made sense. The attack could have been much worse if only one person had been at home. And what if Emmet was in Cabrera’s sights, too? Rory glanced at his son, fidgeting in the camp chair next to him, obviously frustrated at having access to only one side of the conversation.

I’ll personally make sure that your wife and kids are as terrified as mine were.

Cabrera’s reactions had been extreme from the very beginning; fear of getting into even more trouble with the law didn’t seem to be a factor. Men like Cabrera existed on a diet of adrenaline, paranoia, violence and – when all else failed – access to quality legal advice.

Rachel was waiting for his response. Emmet was poised to shower him with questions.

‘Got it,’ he said.

When he ended the call, he was more convinced than ever that Cabrera had been involved in Bridie’s disappearance.

‘What happened?’ Emmet asked anxiously. ‘Is Mum alright?’

Rory hesitated, not sure how he could sanitise what had happened.

‘Just tell me the truth, Dad. I’m not a kid. Who is Matias Cabrera? Are Mum and Sean alright? Stop trying to protect me and just tell me what’s going on!’

Rory relented. He spoke in a flat tone that belied the fierce emotions swirling inside. Emmet’s mouth dropped open when he heard about the home invasion, what Sean and Rory had done to provoke it, and the box of banknotes stashed in the attic.

‘How much cash?’

‘Probably in excess of a hundred thousand.’

‘But why Bridie? Why not take you, scare the crap out of you, or kill you? Sorry, Dad, but you know what I mean.’

He grimaced. ‘Yes, I thought that too. But keeping me quiet isn’t the only thing Cabrera cares about.’

‘What else does he care about?’

‘Retaliation. Dominance.’ Cabrera was prepared to take crazy risks just to prove that he shouldn’t be messed with.

His son looked down at the notebook he’d bought at the convenience store, which was open on his knees. He’d recorded what the shopkeeper had said about the drunk girl in Centennial Park. He’d also written some notes on Fitz. Now he turned to a new page and wrote Matias Cabrera in block letters.

‘What does Cabrera look like?’

‘Medium build, tanned skin, dark-brown hair, thirties.’

Rory supplied all the details again, except for one. He didn’t admit to the anonymous phone call he’d made from the public phone. There was no way that Cabrera could know about that phone call, and telling people – even the police – risked it leaking out. He hated to think what Cabrera would be capable of if his motivation was based off something stronger than mere suspicion.

‘Let’s suss out this AJ guy,’ Emmet said, turning to a fresh page. ‘What do we know about him?’

Not very much. AJ wasn’t who he claimed to be. Not a student at Hale Christian School. Likely not to be in Year Eleven. Probably didn’t even like books. Finding out more about AJ would require cooperation from the social media platforms he operated on.

‘Who else?’ Emmet asked, pen poised.

The process was helping them both. Purging their thoughts and questions onto paper. Allowing them to collaborate and bounce ideas off each other. With their camp chairs and the fading light, Rory was vaguely reminded of past camping trips.

‘There’s Sean’s ex-flatmate, Josh Canterbury,’ Rory said, explaining about Josh accessing Sean’s phone and his interest in child pornography.

Poor Emmet. His son had landed in an alternate world where drug lords and paedophiles lived behind every second door. But there wasn’t much to document about Josh Canterbury either, just questions about previous convictions, current address, whether he had befriended Bridie on social media. Was it possible that AJ and Josh were the same person?

‘Anybody else?’ Emmet was already moving on. ‘You mentioned someone called Nico when you were speaking to Mum?’

Rory recoiled. Had he? Suddenly, he couldn’t meet his son’s eyes.

‘Dad? Who’s Nico?’

That’s what they had to find out. Was Nico an obsessive, jilted lover – or a predator, kidnapper or scammer? He’d followed Rachel, threatened her, potentially downloaded photos from her phone. Maybe Nico had masqueraded as AJ?

‘Dad? Just tell me who Nico is.’ Emmet was almost an adult: he could detect a lie or evasion as well as anyone.

‘Nico is someone your mum knows … They were … friends,’ Rory stuttered, each word emerging with a shot of pain. ‘He took it badly when she broke— when she told him she didn’t want to see him anymore …’

As soon as I open the front door, the evidence is laid before me: white particles scattered on the terracotta tiles, a telltale hole in the ceiling directly above.

‘What the fuck?’

The bedroom door is still bolted from the outside. I unlock the bolt and open the door cautiously, bracing myself for a potential escapee. Nobody rushes at me. The boarded-up window makes it hard to see. Fumbling for my phone, then torchlight illuminating the murky dark. Glass and plasterboard on the floor. Several holes in the ceiling. The ominous glint of metal: a long rod propped against the bedhead.

‘What the fuck is that?’ He points.

‘I think it’s from the wardrobe. Fuck.’

We check the other rooms but it’s obvious that she’s gone. More plasterboard on the kitchen counter and floor, white confetti.

‘It’s okay. We’ll find her. She’s weak, disoriented, can’t be far.’

‘We better find her. We’ve got to find her. And you can pay for all the fucking damage she’s done.’

‘Fuck you. You were the one who didn’t turn up or even call. Cover your own fucking repair bills.’

How much did she see? How much can she remember? It’s okay. This is just another blip in the plan. We’ll find her. She can’t be far.