bed. Tomorrow, you can read more. You’ll have some files to copy, so you can go through a lot of the stuff then.”
I nod, hesitantly, before pushing my chair out and walking straight for the stairs.
“Good night, Abigail.”
I don’t reply, for tears have already begun streaming down my cheeks, and my throat hurts so much that any words would be too difficult to speak.
I sob as warm water washes away the long day from my skin. The body wash smells of strawberries as I try to lather and rinse. Such a sweet and innocent smell. Innocent, like Stephanie. Thoughts of what her last moments on this earth would have been like play on a repeated loop, making me physically ill. My Chinese dinner no longer sits in the pit of my stomach. It glugs down the shower drain. My legs are heavy as I towel myself and slip into the black negligee Marcus’s money bought me. Even though it feels soft against my skin, it doesn’t lighten the heaviness that weighs down my heart.
EIGHTEEN
Comfort
Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, I stare at the four cardboard boxes I stole from the table after I heard Marcus’s door latch.
Heartbroken and breathless, I remove the lid from the box labelled ONE. There are three binders in it. The first binder is white and has a sticker across the front that says “Police Transcripts”. Tentatively opening the book, I turn the pages and read reports from that night. Tears flow steadily when I come across the transcript from the triple zero call her father made.
Caller: Please help me. (He’s crying hysterically.) My daughter, she’s gone, there’s blood, and she’s eight. Oh my God, please God, please help us.” (He screams. It’s high-pitched. Audio is impossible to comprehend.)
Operator: Sir, where is the blood?
Caller: It’s on the back door. I found it open. My little princess, someone has taken her. Hurry. (He sobs.)
Operator: Sir, we are trying to help you. Your name, please?
Caller: Garth Tumbling. (He continues to sob.)
Operator: Mr Tumbling, what is your address? (A woman’s voice can be heard screaming. It’s loud and no other sounds or words can be heard. Five seconds after screaming commences, audio can clearly make out a woman’s voice screaming Stephanie over and over.)
Bang, bang, bang.
I jump.
“Abigail, can I come in?”
“Marcus, you frightened me.”
“Sorry. Can I come in?”
“Why?”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Go away.”
The doorknob turns and, soon, Marcus stands in the doorway wearing only long cotton pyjama bottoms. He stares at the boxes. “Abigail, why?”
“I need to know.”
“You can learn more tomorrow. You won’t sleep if you read this stuff.”
“What did she look like?”
Slowly, he shuffles over to the bed, removing each box, one by one, and placing them onto the floor. The binder still sits open in front of me. I keep my eyes glued to him as he stands before me. A quiet huff expels from his lips. There’s silence, and I can see him thinking, or is he reliving the memories? I’m not sure, but his demeanour is unsettled, to say the least.
“She was beautiful.”
“Do you have a picture of her?”
“Many.”
“Can I see one?”
He shakes his head. “Not tonight.”
“Tell me then.”
He takes the binder and closes it before lowering it to the floor. “Get under the covers.”
I don’t know why, but I do as I’m told.
He climbs in beside me, lying and looking up at the ceiling.
I turn my body to face him. “Tell me.”
He takes one, two, three deep inhales. This is painfully hard; the sheer hurt is etched on his face. “Well, she had strawberry blonde hair. It was long, to the arch of her back. Pale blue eyes and a scattering of freckles across her nose. Front teeth too big for her little mouth, her adult teeth having just come completely through. She was petite and fragile, yet she fought like a champion much bigger and heavier than her. She was brave, Abigail.” He turns to look at me. A single tear runs down my cheek. Marcus wipes it away with his thumb before pulling me into his arms. “Sleep. She’s at peace, and we need to finish her fight for her.”
I nod before closing my eyes. Justice for Stephanie.
NINETEEN
The Rain
The smell of cooking bacon awakens me. The face of a little girl with scattered freckles over her nose and pale blue eyes haunted me throughout the night. Every time I’d felt as if I was drowning in her sorrow, Marcus’s arms would embrace me tighter. For the first time in