JADE

Rupert was finally discharged from the hospital and is settling into my apartment. He seems content to have me doting over him. I’m enjoying looking after him. Brock has finally gone back to work, so having Rupert here means I have company during the day while he’s gone.

Brock spends his nights here. The only time he ventures back to his place is to collect more clothes. Not only am I keeping him from his home, we aren’t getting much alone time. Even once we go to bed we have to be careful not to make too much noise. Easier said than done. Maybe once Rupert’s well enough to look after himself again, Brock and I can start spending more time at his house. For now, Rupert needs me.

‘Here you go,’ I say, passing Rupert a cup of tea and placing a plate of biscuits on the small table beside his seat.

‘Thanks. You don’t have to wait on me like this. My arm may be out of action for a while, but I’m not an invalid.’

‘I know, but I want to. You may not admit it, but I can tell you’re enjoying having someone looking after you. I know you better than you think.’ I give him a wink and he blushes as he tries to suppress his smile.

‘It’s been a long time since a woman, or anyone for that matter, has looked after me like this. I may be slightly enjoying it.’

I laugh at his reply. Slightly, my arse—he’s loving every minute of it.

‘Well, get used to it. I like looking after you. You looked after me for years.’

‘Thank you.’

Taking the seat beside him, I place my hand on his arm. ‘How are you holding up?’ I worry about him. He’s been quiet and withdrawn for the past few days. Waiting for news about Sasha is hard for him.

‘I need confirmation.’ He scrubs his hand over his face. ‘It’s taking too long. I’m so close, but not knowing is eating away at me. In my heart, I know one of those bodies pulled from the dam is my baby girl.’ When he chokes up, tears rise to my eyes. ‘I just want to bring her home and give her the burial she deserves.’

‘Oh Rupert,’ I say, wiping a stray tear from my eye before reaching for his aging hand. ‘We should hear something any day now.’

*

Three more agonising days was how long poor Rupert had to wait before the answers finally came. He seemed to sink deeper into himself with every day that passed. Brock and I were concerned for him so when the call finally came through, we accompanied him to the coroner’s office. He needed all the support he could get.

‘Take a seat,’ the coroner offers the moment we step into his office. As soon as we’re seated, I reach for Rupert’s hand. It trembles in mine. He’s barely spoken a word since the call came through.

‘Mr Taylor,’ the coroner begins, ‘I’m sorry it has taken so long for us to get back to you. I’m sure this hasn’t been an easy time for you. Let me assure you, my team has been working tirelessly over the past few weeks. So far we’ve managed to identify four of the nine bodies recovered. All four of the females identified to date worked for Melody Sinclair at some point in time.’ The coroner pauses. ‘I’m sorry to inform you, sir, that one set of remains has been positively identified as your daughter, through the DNA you supplied.’

I knew the coroner was going to say Sasha was among the victims, but knowing doesn’t stop a gasp from escaping me. Rupert rips his hand from mine and stands. The coroner, Brock and I watch as he starts to pace back and forth. Even though we were prepared for this outcome, Rupert’s reaction tears my heart in two. He pauses briefly before clutching his head in his hands and stays like that for a few seconds before covering his face. Then his shoulders slump, and his entire body starts to shake. Tears rise to my eyes when a heart-shattering cry of pain tears from deep inside him, before he collapses to his knees and sobs his heart out. I’m off the chair and wrapping him in my arms before I even register what I’m doing. I just hold him for the longest time while he grieves for his only daughter. What else can I do? There are no words strong enough to comfort a parent who has lost their child.

My heart breaks for Rupert, but even more so for Sasha. She was still young and had her whole life ahead of her before it was so cruelly and viciously taken away. Her death seems so pointless. It was just another example of how calculating, selfish and uncaring M really is.

When we get home, Rupert locks himself in his bedroom for two whole days. I desperately want to go to him, but Brock insists that I leave him be. I leave trays of food outside the door, but none of it is touched.

By day three, I can’t stand it any longer; I’m ready to break down the door. But he emerges showered and dressed, without me even having to go to him. It’s a relief.

The first thing he does is wrap me in his arms. ‘Thank you for finding me the answers I needed,’ he says as he squeezes me tight. I can’t respond. That day will haunt me forever. Even though the night Sasha was killed has come full circle, it doesn’t seem to lessen the guilt I feel about that night. I was just a young girl, but I wish I’d done more. Logically I know that was an impossibility. It probably only would’ve served to get me killed as well.

I help Rupert with all the funeral arrangements. It’s hard for him, I can tell, but he keeps himself together. Understandably, he wants to make it special for his daughter. He chooses a white casket and a beautiful arrangement of pink tulips to adorn the coffin. Apparently they were Sasha’s favourite flowers. A few of her favourite songs growing up are chosen to be played at the service, including one he used to sing to her when she was a little girl. He also places an advertisement in the local paper where they once lived, in the hope that some of her friends will attend.

On the way home from the funeral parlour, Rupert and I stop by his apartment to collect a black suit, and he emerges from his bedroom with a large framed picture of Sasha to place in the church on the day of the service. I know he’ll never get over the loss of his daughter, but I’m hoping once the funeral is over, he finds some peace.

When the day of the funeral rolls around, we’re all on edge. I’m dreading it. I’m worried for Rupert, and Brock—it was only a few weeks ago he laid his father to rest. I’m even concerned for myself. Sasha’s death has been playing on my mind for years, but finding her remains has brought the trauma and pain to the surface. I even had a nightmare about her. It was awful. I’d woken with a start, my body trembling and covered in perspiration. I was able to slip out of bed and pull myself together before Brock noticed I was missing. He doesn’t need to add my nightmares to his worries.

None of us eat breakfast before we leave, but Brock had managed to force a cup of coffee into Rupert and me. Brock’s been wonderful throughout this whole ordeal. Not only to me, but to Rupert as well. I’m sure staying in my apartment and having Rupert with us hasn’t been easy for him, but he hasn’t complained once. I’ll make it up to him once all this is over.

We follow the funeral car all the way to the church. The three of us are sitting in the back of the limousine; I’m in the middle. Brock’s fingers are tightly laced through mine, and my free hand is resting on Rupert’s leg. He hasn’t voiced it, but I know he’s grateful to have us both by his side. There’s an appreciative look on his face whenever we make eye contact.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask as we near the church.

‘As good as I can be,’ he replies, placing his hand over mine. I don’t think any of us were expecting a big turn out today, but when we pull up, there’s a large group waiting: easily fifty people, maybe more. Rupert immediately sits up straight, gazing out the window.

‘All these people have come to say goodbye to my baby,’ I hear him whisper, and a huge lump rises to my throat.

Once we’re out of the car, Brock and I stand back while Rupert heads towards the group standing near the entrance.

‘How are you holding up?’ Brock asks me as his arms slide around my waist, drawing me into him.

‘I’m okay,’ I lie. Truth is, my stomach is in knots. I’m dreading every aspect of today. Learning about Sasha from Rupert over the past week hasn’t helped. She seems so real to me; no longer just a face and a name.

When Brock tightens his embrace and places a soft kiss on the top of my head, I get the impression he doesn’t believe me. Having him here helps. He’s my rock. Spending my days with Rupert has been emotionally draining, but losing myself in Brock at night has been my salvation—my escape from the harsh realities of life. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

He’s so much more than simply the love of my life.