body out in two bags.
'We're going to meet at eight, Jill, but I'll understand if you're not able to get here by then.' Superintendent Last spoke in an unhurried tone. 'We'll catch you up when you do arrive. Again, I'm sorry to call you in today.'
'No problem. I'll be there as soon as I can.'
The most direct route seemed to be Beauchamp Road to Foreshore Drive and then along the M5 all the way to Liverpool. There looked to be only a couple of streets to negotiate once she got off the motorway.
By six-forty, she was in the car heading southwest.
She wound the window down and angled her face into a stream of cool air. The morning sky glowed, and there was a promise on the joggers' faces as they bounded by.
She found a parking spot right out the front of the police station. Metered, but they'd settle that stuff later. The clock in the dash showed 7.38. Early. Good. The last thing she wanted was to start this thing behind everyone else.
Her gut twisted. She hated meeting new people. After nearly a year away from school following the kidnapping, she'd returned to find she couldn't speak English anymore. At least it felt that way. She couldn't relate to the things the other kids said, couldn't fill the silences they left for her. Couldn't make the little noises they did – the giggles, uh-huhs, nuhs, whatevers. What was the point? Once you said what you wanted, or needed, or what was immediately obvious, what was left to say? Some lunchtimes she'd sat, incredulous, listening to the roar of language around her. The words smothered her, choked her airways, and sometimes she would run to a silent classroom, wheezing for oxygen, struggling to clear her throat, trying to prevent an anxiety attack.
The ability to banter, which she'd taken for granted as a younger child, had never returned. The comfortable chitchat that knitted relationships was beyond her. Others saw her as aloof, rude, odd. Some instantly disliked her; resented her for the discomfort they felt when she broke the social rules. In the past, if she could've done anything about it, she probably wouldn't have, given that the distance kept her feeling safe. But today, starting a new job, she wished she had the ability to make the right noises, to help dispel some of the stories she knew would've reached here before her arrival.
She slicked tinted gloss over her dry lips, checked her face once in the rear-view mirror, and stepped out of the car into Liverpool.
The first thing she noticed was that there were definitely no joggers. Not a one. In Maroubra, they were everywhere at this time of day. Here, a few early risers hurried to get to work. Down a block and across the road, a man, his face lost in his hair, screamed ceaselessly at the traffic – motherfucking cunts! You're all cunts! A skinny young mum waited with a pram at the lights. A man next to her kept his eyes fastened on the brown paper bag clutched in his hand. Already. What time did the bottlos open around here? She figured that there must be a methadone clinic somewhere close by. A man and a woman in tracksuit pants it looked like they'd worn to bed did the junkie shuffle towards the chemist on the corner. She remembered reading a few years ago that the shopkeepers in the area were furious about the crackdown on the heroin trade in nearby Cabramatta. The politicians had claimed hero status in the war on drugs, but the buyers and sellers had moved just five kilometres down the highway to Liverpool.
Mouth dry, Jill decided she needed a juice or something before she entered the building. On the other side of the road she could see an Asian food store open for business. She crossed the street. Tables of fresh fruit and vegetables, still wet from the markets, spilled onto the footpaths. Moon cakes and dim sum sat in the fridge next to cans of Pepsi and bottled water. She took a bottle of green tea to the counter, where a woman was packing a vegetable Jill had never seen before into small bags.
'Okra. More fibre than any other vegetable! You want some this morning?' The shopkeeper continued to pack as she spoke.
'How do you cook it?' Jill wanted to know.
'I don't know. Never had it! You try it and tell me next time.'
'Okay. Why not. How much?' Jill rummaged through the bottom of her bag for her purse.
'Two dollars,' the woman replied, beaming as she filled Jill a fresh bag containing twice as much as the others she had packed.
Jill crossed the road, cramming the bag of vegetables into her handbag. They poked out the top and she wondered what the hell she had been thinking. It was ten to eight and time to get in there.
Jill found Superintendent Lawrence Last striding down a hallway in her direction. A youth in uniform half- jogged to keep up with him. Last's baggy suit shushed with each oversized step; grey suit, hair and skin seemed all the same tone. He hunched forward, as though the ceiling hovered just beyond his hair. Plate-sized hands swung by his sides. He saw her ahead of him, and his hand and the crags around his mouth lifted in greeting, then dropped again with his shoulders. He turned his grey eyes to his watch, and was with her in one final lurch.
'I'm so glad you're here, Jill. I really appreciate it.' The quiet voice seemed out of place from such a huge man, as though he'd tried to shrink that too. 'It's all a terrible mess, I'm afraid.'
He seemed so bent with worry that Jill's self-consciousness had already been replaced with a desire to try to lessen his burden. She fell in behind him as he opened the door to a meeting room. The man in uniform handed Last a folder and left them.
They entered a room already occupied by two men.
'David. Derek. Thank you for coming.' Although his voice was low in volume, Superintendent Last carried power into the room.
'Not like we had a choice, is it, boss?'
The words were for Last, but the speaker's eyes were on Jill. Leaning against a wall, arms folded over a bulging chest, he stood straight at the last minute, in offhanded respect to his superior officer.
'Quite,' said Last. 'It's a minute to eight. I expect Delahunt will be here shortly. We'll wait. Maybe if we all take a seat?'
Jill walked around the table to take the seat diagonally facing the door. The dragon seat. According to the rules of feng shui, it afforded its occupant power through placement. Jill didn't know if she believed that stuff, but she did prefer that position, with her back to the wall – and she needed all the help she could get today. She reached the chair at the same time as the fourth occupant of the room. A flicker of a smile, and then he dropped his eyes, held out a hand, his other holding onto the back of the chair. Assuming possession of it.
'Hello. I am David Tran.'
She took his hand, feeling slightly put out until she noticed a walking stick leaning against the table; he was using the chair for balance while he greeted her.
'Hi. Jill Jackson.' She smiled.
They stood there.
'You take the seat,' she offered, at the same moment as he waved her towards it. They laughed, awkward.
'No, please take this seat. I will sit next to you,' said David.
'Thanks.' Jill dropped into the chair, looking up to see Muscles watching the exchange with an open smirk.
She looked around the table. The men all wore suits. What had she been thinking with her outfit? First day – taskforce – suit! It seemed obvious now. She adjusted her shirt a little. Muscles still wore the smirk.
Just in time to save her from doing something ridiculous, like initiating a stare-down match with this idiot, another man entered the room. He must be another taskforce member. What had Superintendent Last said his name was? Delahunt?
Cargo pants. Phew. It was the first thing she noticed. Blue tee-shirt. Yee hah. She straightened a little in her seat.
Dark-haired and unshaven, he walked into the room on an angle, kind of like he was trying to sneak up on something. An A4 notepad, rolled like a trumpet, stuck out of the side pocket of his navy cargos. She figured him for around six foot. Making eye contact with no one, he sat down.
With his entry, Superintendent Last looked up from a bulky folder and rummaged through a box on the table. He pulled out four more folders of the same size, and handed them around the room. Jill left hers closed in front of her, focused her attention on the team leader, eager now to begin.
