Reid
Detective Dyson holds her hand across the mouthpiece of the second cordless and hovers her finger above the Accept button. “Go,” she mouths.
“It's Reid speaking,” I answer, preparing for the worst.
“I think you’re missing something more than your wife. Would this be correct?” He still speaks with the same British accent.
Dyson's eyes are wide as she shakes her head in a way that alerts me not to speak.
“Crisp green bills, wrapped in clingwrap … I’m guessing the wrap was your doing?”
“The money,” I growl.
“Bingo. Fifty thousand dollars is quite a sum to keep in a sports bag in your safe. I bet those Bizzies have given you a tough day. You can thank me for that tip-off. Those coppers are nothing more than brainless puppets on strings.”
Dyson is rotating her fingers in circles as she mouths, “Keep him talking.”
“How did you get in? How did you know where the money was? Or that I’d even withdrawn that amount?”
“Taking things you want isn’t hard. Do me a favour—tell that bitch detective to hang up the other line or I’ll fuck your wife up so bad you won’t be able to recognise her when I send her back to you in garbage bags.” He’s eerily calm.
I swallow hard as my eyes bulge from my head. This fucker is insane.
Dyson lays the cordless down on a couch cushion and raises both her hands, palms out, into the air.
“It’s been done.” My voice rattles.
“Detective Astin West? Now he can listen. Not her. She needs to leave the room. Tell her to leave the room now.”
“He wants you to leave the room,” I say robotically, gauging Detective Dyson’s reaction.
She only shakes her head.
“She can’t.” I can’t believe I just admitted this out loud to the man who has my wife. Comply with his requests, don’t deny them.
“Well, in that case, let me get your little lady, and I’ll kill her while you’re listening.”
“He’ll kill Morgan if you don’t.” My tone laced with panic.
Detective Dyson’s eyes narrow as she mouths, “I’m going.”
“No. Don’t. Detective Dyson is leaving. Don’t hurt Morgan.” My panic is entwined with these words.
Dyson draws her weapon from the holster wrapped around her waist. She lowers to the floor and crawls the short distance from the lounge room to the entryway.
“She’s out of the room. I swear.” I look to Maloney who mouths, “Keep him talking.”
“Say hello to Max for me, will you?”
Can he see us? He must be able to see us. I don’t pass on his greeting.
“I would follow my instructions. I have Morgan. I have your money. I even have a collection of your photos and home movies, too … I’ll destroy all of it.”
“He says ‘hi Max’.” I blurt this out fast, my heart pounding as rapidly as Tarzan beats at his chest.
Maloney’s eyes narrow into a scowl.
“Good.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
The line goes dead.
Slowly I drop the cordless to the ground and bring my hands up, cupping my face. “Motherfuuuuuucker.”
“Shit.” I hear Maloney say. “I’m ringing Astin.”
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.
Urgent feet beat against the staircase. Maloney grabs my arm, yanking me with him behind the couch. “Stay down. Don’t make a sound,” he whispers.
I watch as Dyson performs an army roll, which sees her back in the lounge area and scrambling behind the small wall that exists before the opening. She kneels with her weapon drawn.
Is he in the house? Fright launches from the bottomless pit of my stomach to the back of my constricted throat.
“What’s going on? What’s with all the yelling?” It’s Ronald shouting.
I exhale with relief.
“Where are you?” Ronald yells.
“Loungeroom,” Maloney answers.
Ronald stands in the doorway wearing the same white cotton singlet and loose cotton boxer shorts I saw him in before he retired to bed. His head is tilted to the side as he scratches at the smooth part of his head. “What’s happened?”
“Another phone call.” I stand so he can see me as clearly as I can see him.
“Is Morgan okay?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head because I’ve no clue if she is or she isn’t. Her abductor hasn’t let me speak to her. He just makes references.
Ronald throws his arms down and slaps them simultaneously against his outer legs. “I’ve had enough. I’m going out to search for Morgan. I’ve barely slept a wink. I can't continue lying around while my baby is out there. My daughter needs me.” He turns sharp on his heel.
“Stop, Mr Cuttings. It won’t achieve anything.” Dyson reaches out her hand and lowers it to Ronald’s shoulder. “Take a seat. I’m calling Detective West.”
“Have you pigs found any leads yet, or is this lunatic controlling everything that’s happening? Because from where I’m sitting you haven’t the faintest idea what you’re doing, and you look like a bunch of bloody chooks with your heads cut off.” Ronald’s once sleepy appearance disappears with his outburst, his limbs now tensed. His biceps are bulging, and his face glows red.
“You’re mad about the position you’re in. We understand why you are, but this won’t help.” Maloney, the voice of reason. “Let us do our job.”
“A trained monkey could do it better. I’m going to find my daughter, and you’ll have to kill me to stop me.”
Cuffs swing from Maloney’s finger in a brief second. “Do you want to wear these?”
Ronald shakes his head as he stumbles to the couch and flops down with what I can only imagine is helplessness, the same feeling constantly plaguing me.
The clock in the kitchen reads 1:30 a.m., and as I watch the second hand circling the clock face, I listen to the call I took earlier playing through the laptop Dyson was tapping away on not long before Detective West finally showed his face. West has been sitting glued to this piece of equipment as if he’s studying the way it starts since he arrived twenty minutes after the call was taken. Six times so far, West has played the call through, and as soon as it finishes he starts it again. Most times he pauses, rewinds, and then replays it to the end. Not this time. A small segment seems to have caught his attention; I gather this because he fast forwards and then rewinds it only after this snippet plays. Why is he doing this?
“Drink?” Ronald says in passing.
“I’m good.” I shift in my seat until I meet his sad eyes.
“Kylee still hasn’t stopped crying since she came down and went back upstairs before. I don’t know what to tell her.”
“Tell her Morgan will be okay.” I pause, trying to convince myself this is the truth. “We have to believe she will be. We can’t give up on her.”
“She’s a fighter,” Ronald says as he walks away from me. There’s a long pause before I hear running water. “So, this person took the money?” he shouts from the kitchen.
It’s what I’ve told Ronald multiple times, yet he keeps asking.
“Yep. It’s what the psychopath said.” I hear my annoyance.
“He’s been in this house.”
“Yep. It seems so.”
“Shit! Who are we dealing with here?” Ronald's annoyance is now apparent.
“A fucking psychopath who when I find him will get his—”
“Ssssh,” West says.
Turning my attention to his scowling face, I drop my shoulders and mouth, “Sorry.”
“I’m going to take this glass of water up to Kylee, and I’ll come back down once I get her settled.” Ronald’s hand brushes my shoulder in passing.
“Okay,” I whisper, trying not to piss West off any further.
“I need quiet.” West grunts.
“Understood.” Ronald disappears up the stairs.
West plays the call through from the beginning once more. He suddenly jerks his head upright, and the clip stops. “Did you hear that?” West looks to Maloney and then Dyson who sit either side of him.
“What?” Maloney's eyes widen.
West presses at some buttons, and then he replays this segment again. “I even have a collection of your photos and home movies too.” The clip stops.
“There,” West says with satisfaction to his tone. “He’s not British. He’s Australian. The accent is a disguise. Listen.” He replays it again and stops after the word photos. “He did well with the accent, but to me, it’s an Australian pronunciation of this line, with an emphasis on photos … now listen to the word movies.” He plays the next part. “See.”
“Holy shit.” Maloney's chin drops.
“It’s not a device he’s using this time; it’s him.”
“I didn’t hear it until you just pointed it out,” Dyson confirms.
“We need to forward this to our vocal technicians in Brisbane to run through it, but I’m sure this is an attempt at disguising himself.” West is more than confident. His chest is puffed out, his posture sturdy and towering.
“Excellent, Astin.” Dyson smiles.
“Leroy used to do acting before he joined the force. I know he’s supposed to be heading off for holidays today, but from memory, I believe he said he’s not leaving until later this afternoon … if you wanted to get him to come listen.” Maloney pauses. “We both know the techies in Brisbane are snowed under as always. They won’t get to this job straight away.” Maloney shifts from foot to foot. “He could help us in the meantime. You know, be sure.”
“Leroy?” West hitches one eyebrow, causing the lines around his eyes to crinkle.
“Yeah. Constable Stratt.”
“Good call. Max, get him on the phone, and get him here,” West says.
“Okay,” Maloney stands from the table. He takes long strides towards Morgan’s sitting room before he turns down the hallway and is no longer in my sight.
“Why does this even matter?” I say, confused.
“Pardon?” West’s grey eyes connect with mine.
“I kept him on the line. You know where he is now. The trace.” My shoulders sit by my ears. I’m so tense.
“We don’t have a trace yet. Reid, this is a rural town; we don’t have this type of technology here. Brisbane needs to set the trace, and we’re waiting for it to be put in place. All the red tape to be cut. It can take up to seventy-two hours. However, we can now record the evidence of these calls should we need them in court.”
I slam my fist hard into the table. “We don’t have seventy-two hours. You heard the freak; you heard what he has, what he said. He's insane. Morgan will be dead by then.”
“Reid, the techies have the recording device linked to your phone; we’re getting there. These processes take more time when you live in smaller towns like this.”
“This is bullshit.” The chair I was sitting in crashes to the floor after I launch myself from it. “No! Now! You need to get it done now.”
West stares blankly at me. There’s no emotion in his eyes. “You have to trust me.”
“I don’t trust anyone. Someone has been in my house, in my office, and that someone kidnapped my wife. He’s playing fucking games with us. He’s right, you know. Coppers are nothing but puppets on strings.”