2. Iris
Iris
T he oven buzzes at the same time as my phone. My cookies are ready, and I have one unread email.
Here’s the information you were after. Keep it to yourself, Iris. Hope Sam and the kids are well. - T
T is for Tina, an old friend from the academy.
Although, less a friend and more an acquaintance.
I wasn’t the only one to meet someone at the academy.
The difference is, Tina messed around with one of our superiors, which could have cost them both their positions in the police force.
I caught them one night and told them I’d take it to my grave.
I wasn’t interested in destroying two careers over something like that.
I also didn’t want to draw attention to myself or my own relationship, even if Sam and I weren’t breaking any rules.
I recently reached out to Tina for a favour with my research.
Since then, she’s been more than willing to provide me with information.
I don’t think what happened a decade ago is going to come back to bite her, and I certainly won’t be the one to tell, but if it means she keeps helping me out, then good news for me.
Before I lose myself in the email, I take the cookies out of the oven and place them on the counter.
The email has an attachment. It’s a police interview transcript from the child trafficking case. It’s lengthy, so I skim read until I find the parts I’m looking for.
DETECTIVE JACOBSON: Are you going to share the names of the people above you?
MCDONALD, B: I only knew one guy.
DETECTIVE JACOBSON: Let’s start with a name.
MCDONALD, B: Kyle. But he was no one. Like me.
DETECTIVE JACOBSON: I wouldn’t say you were a no one in this organisation. You did kidnap and transport children, after all.
MCDONALD, B: I’ve told you. I couldn’t get out of it.
DETECTIVE JACOBSON: Who was given the instructions?
MCDONALD, B: Mostly Kyle. Sometimes me. Usually through text.
DETECTIVE JACOBSON: Did you ever speak to the person in charge?
MCDONALD, B: Yes. Once or twice.
DETECTIVE JACOBSON: Their name? Male or female?
MCDONALD, B: Male. That’s all I know.
DETECTIVE JACOBSON: Any idea where we could find Kyle now?
MCDONALD, B: No.
DETECTIVE JACOBSON: Can you describe him?
MCDONALD, B: I can do better than that. I have a photo.
I look back at Tina’s email. The only attachment is the transcript. The photo would have been submitted for evidence too, surely.
From: [email protected]
Tina, thanks. Any chance you can get the photo mentioned on page 23? It’s important.
I save the transcript to my computer with the rest of the files I’ve collected over the past two years.
I’d love to create a proper crime investigation board with pins and string and maps.
My body tingles at the thought of it. But then Sam would know.
Not everything I’ve collected has been done in the right way—Tina, for example, must be bending rules for me—so Sam wouldn’t approve.
What happened in Rosewood affected me far more than I like to admit.
The months we spent in Rosewood after the kidnapping were some of the darkest of my life.
Despite my own children being unscathed, the proximity of it all really played on my mind.
I rarely slept, and if I did, it was never a restful, deep sleep—I’d wake at every noise worried someone was coming to take our babies.
When the man, who’d been arrested, was sent to jail, I became even more anxious because his co-conspirators still hadn’t been caught.
I rarely left the house with the kids and spent my days obsessing over articles.
I close the computer, hoping Tina gets back to me in the next few days. Unofficially investigating crimes is a tedious process. It takes patience.
Placing the cookies on a nice ceramic plate, I cover them with foil to keep them warm for tonight’s meeting. Then I head out to pick up the kids.
I pull up in the kindergarten carpark and can see kids playing in the yard.
It’s such a beautiful space. I loved the kinder in Rosewood but nothing compares to the natural green and leafy play space Billy has now, with huge gumtrees offering shade and a water play area for the kids to imagine all sorts of wonderful games.
Billy is playing in the sandpit with another little boy. I’m not sure who it is. Despite my place on the Parent’s Association committee, I haven’t properly met many people since we got here.
It’s been one of the hardest parts of moving.
Being an adult, who doesn’t work, and is often home with the children, means making friends has been challenging.
So often, people are already in groups—friends at the park, friends at the play centre—and it’s hard to break into new circles.
If it weren’t for my little project at home, I’d struggle.
I climb out of the car, and Billy and the other little boy look up and spot me. The other boy shouts, ‘Mummy.’
I’m momentarily confused, until I turn around and see another woman getting out of a very expensive, very large SUV. That must be his mum.
‘Hi,’ I say, smiling at her.
She’s beautiful, with long blonde hair, bronzed skin and bright brown eyes.
For a moment she says nothing, staring at me like I’ve accidentally spoken to the wrong person.
She wraps her designer coat tighter around herself and then smiles. ‘Hi,’ she says, sounding a little unsure.
‘I’m Iris,’ I say. ‘Your son is playing with my boy, Billy.’
She glances back over at the yard where the boys are still digging in the sandpit.
‘I’m Eva, that’s Archie.’
‘Ohhh, that’s Archie. Billy has spoken about him lots of times. It’s nice to meet you.’
I’m about to suggest we swap numbers, perhaps get the boys together for a play, but she heads in the direction of the entrance.
‘Best we go get them,’ she says.
As she reaches for the kinder door, I notice the enormous diamond on her ring finger and the fancy gold watch on her slender wrist. Who is this woman? Cobal Gully is beautiful but it’s not affluent, certainly not an area where people with lots of money dream of living.
The usual feeling of butterflies and anticipation rushes through my body as I think about why she’s in Cobal Gully.
Understanding people, their choices and where they come from was always a big part of my desire to join the police force, and that passion has never gone.
They don’t need to be a criminal or a victim, I just love getting to know people.
‘How long have you been in Cobal Gully?’ I assume she grew up here, is in love with the town, and unable to leave. Otherwise, with that car, those clothes and jewellery, I’d be living in many other places besides here.
Annoyance flashes on her face, only briefly, but I see it and feel I’ve been inappropriate.
‘Two years,’ she says, before picking up Archie’s bag from his locker.
Two years. Not what I’d expected.
Billy and Archie come rushing towards us, big smiles on their faces, and hands covered in sand.
‘Oh, Arch, please wash your hands first,’ Eva says when he tries to wrap his arms around her.
Billy’s already rubbed his sand on the legs of my activewear. It goes nicely with the smeared jam from the twins’ toast this morning.
‘Will I see you at the PA meeting tonight?’ I ask.
‘I’m sorry?’ Eva says, looking as though I asked her what the square root of infinity is.
‘The Parents Association meeting, back here tonight? We’ll be discussing the trivia night.’
‘Ohhh. Um, no. We can’t, sorry.’
I nod, understanding. Not all parents can make the commitment. I get it. If it weren’t for the fact I need additional excuses to be at my laptop and checking emails, I’d be hesitant to commit too.
‘No probs. Make sure to grab your trivia night ticket though.’
‘I’m not sure my husband would approve of that.’ She grabs Archie’s freshly washed hand and walks off.
Talk about red flag, not attending an event because your husband wouldn’t approve. I mean, fair enough if he didn’t like going out or more specifically didn’t like trivia. But to not approve of her going is raising alarm bells.