Getting some kind of exercise was difficult, but there was enough space to stand and she spent some time each day standing and sitting, pressing her legs against the wall, turning, squatting, rising. It all helped to give some structure to the time.
On the wall she marked the days by dragging her cuffs in a single line across the brick. It was important to keep watch of time. The worst thing was the food. So little. Each day her abductor pushed a piece of bread, a piece of cheese and a cup of water through the flap. She would push out the bedpan. One little ritual.
She had tried to speak in the beginning, during the feeding times, when the restraint was removed. ‘I’m missing my dad, you know. He’ll be trying to solve this. Schoolwork will be piling up. My name is Abby Goldenberg.’
But he stopped it. Insisted on silence. The flap would shut and she would hear him move about, typing, changing clothes.
On the fourth day, she turned the mattress over and spent hours with her hands and teeth, pulling at a small tear. She had the idea that if she could get a rag of the mattress, by pressing her back to one wall and her feet to the other, she might be able to lift herself up to the roof and somehow push out a flag. It was not going to save her, but it might cause some attention and then she could hammer at the door with her feet. She’d tried that for hours already, but stopped out of frustration, and now tried it only every few hours. The thing was — her abductor was regular. He came at the same time each day. An hour or so before the sun went down. So she knew when it was safe to try to attract attention.
She was very cold. At night, all the time. Never anything but cold. She could hear cars and trucks and in the quiet hours, she could hear birds. They sometimes landed on the top of the roof and she listened to their footsteps.
The dogs barked outside. She felt terrible panic and the instant retching of her guts. The outer door opened and he was inside. The dogs sniffed and ran about the room as they did every time. Their claws scratched on the hard floor, they wagged their tails and bumped into things. There were lots of them and they sniffed at her door. She tried to count them, but there were too many.
The dogs were shooed out. The flap opened.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Can I come out… just for a second? Just for one second? Please let me. You’ve got to let me stretch my legs. You’ll never guess, it’s my sax exam tomorrow. If I don’t practice, I’ll fail. I want to talk to you. I understand why people do things. It might be good to talk about it.’
There was no reply. The bread and cheese were pushed through the flap. She used her feet to push the bedpan out. ‘For God’s sake, stop doing this,’ she said in a whisper. The bedpan scraped across the ground.
Then his hand grabbed her foot. She froze. His skin was cold. His fingers closed around her ankle. She could hear him breathing.
The hand released her and she pulled her foot back through the flap. She was gulping for air.
‘My name’s Abby,’ she said. ‘I’m just sixteen. I’m scared. I miss my home. That’s all, mister. I just miss my mom, my dad, my nana, my friends.’
There was no reply. The flap shot up and was locked.
Chapter Fifteen
Harper crossed to the desk to sign out a department saloon. He needed to head up to the morgue and get the autopsy report. Dr Pense had said it’d be ready after 6 p.m. The guy on the desk raised his head and checked out Harper’s face. ‘Don’t tell me, I should see the other guy!’ he joked. Harper nodded, unsmiling, and took the keys without a word.
Harper walked down towards the car. He turned into the lot and stopped. Ahead of him, Erin Nash flashed a big cheap smile. The
‘Erin, it’s nice to see you. You spot an opportunity to fuck us over again?’
‘Now, listen to you. I’ve come by to see how you are. Saw you at the crime scene. You look like shit. I was concerned.’
‘Concerned enough to ride straight to the victim’s grieving girlfriend and offer her money.’
‘Harper, you know that’s not ethical.’
‘That’s never stopped you before. I know it was you.’
‘You’re playing down the political angle on this murder, is that ethical?’
‘I’m playing the percentages. If someone’s targeting the government, then it’s the government’s problem. I’m just trying to solve a homicide.’
‘What about the coke? You seriously think he was shot while trying to score?’
‘I think the drugs might be relevant.’
‘I guessed you would.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘We’ve all got skeletons in the cupboard, right, including you, Tom Harper. A journalist’s job is to sniff them out.’
‘Yeah, well keep sniffing, I’ve got nothing to hide.’ Harper stared at Erin Nash and felt the anger coming in spurts. ‘What do you want?’
‘I’m not into scandal-mongering, Detective, but an old friend of yours tells me that you were in rehab for something a few years back. Amphetamine addiction, maybe.’
‘How much did you pay for that?’
‘Listen, I don’t want to make trouble and I wouldn’t want to do harm to an investigation, but give me something. This Capske guy was dealing, am I right? Maybe he got in over his head.’
‘I’m busy,’ said Harper.
Erin Nash let out a little light laugh. ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just walk away like that? You want me to run a drug story on you or on your victim? Nice simple choice.’
Harper stopped. He was running things over in his head. ‘If you’ve got something to say about me and you’ve got the evidence, then print it. If not, go back to the sewer.’
‘I wouldn’t get so hung up, Tom.’ Erin paused for a second. ‘I wouldn’t want to harm you just yet. You’re a hero, Harper; people want to hear more about you. New case, first major one since your big moment.’
Harper looked to the ground. ‘You want to know about David Capske, not me.’
‘Come on, Harper. Just want to know what you’re thinking? Trail a cop who’s trailing a killer, that kind of thing.’
‘Get this, Nash — it’s a no. If you can’t read it, put it in 72-point Helvetica like the rest of your headlines.’
‘His father’s a pretty important guy. A judge. This is going to run and run.’
‘I got nothing for you, Nash.’
‘Why were the media called this morning? What’s the connection?’
‘Not sure. Whoever killed Capske wanted a big audience and he knew how to get one.’
‘Gun lobby would love the attention,’ Erin said.
‘You’re a dog with a bone and you know I can’t say anything, even if I knew something. Which I don’t.’
‘You know nothing, right?’
‘And just for the record — you can’t quote me on that.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it, Detective.’ Erin Nash took out a card and handed it to Harper. ‘Just one more thing —
