Escaping Life (29 page)

“A person can’t
just disappear.  They have to leave a trace behind.  She couldn’t have been on
her own for four years.”  She considered her words again.  “It’s impossible.”

“Maybe, but the
same person that knew her at the bus station was the last person to see her
alive.”  He could see the suspicion rising on her face:  her furrowed brow, the
tight lips pulled into a smirk.  “At her request, though.  She asked him to
drive her to the beach that morning.  He dropped her off a few miles away from
the beach.  She said to him, ‘Never choose to be alone’.  Never
choose.
”  
He emphasised the word choose, prolonging the rounded sound of the word.  “She
chose to be alone.”

“Why?”

“If I knew that,
the case would be solved.  But it’s to do with her mum’s death.  The mother
died only four days before Rebecca disappeared.  It’s too much of a
coincidence.”

They sat for a
while, swigging on their beers and stretching out on the settee, their feet
propped up on the coffee table, and legs splayed out.  They had both taken off
their trousers, and let the breeze from the open windows wash over their skin. 
Up on the sixth floor, you could always find some relief when the oppressive
heat of the city intoxicated the air.  It was the only thing that she liked
about this apartment.  It was Jack who brought up the subject again.  He
couldn’t let it lie. 

“Can you
imagine it, Kate?”  He turned his head, dropped sideways against the sticky
black leather.  It was a defenceless look that exposed the pulsating blood
vessels in his neck and one kept only for people close to you.  He shuffled in
his seat and the leather creaked as it peeled away from his skin.  “Four years
of nobody.  How can a person live like that?”  The irony of his statement was
not lost on Kate.  She wanted to ask how he had managed one year.  She wanted
to tell him that he should already know the answer, that he was a specialist at
cutting out the world.  She turned her head to him, mirroring his open gaze. 
He looked almost sad:  the corners of his eyes and mouth turned down, every
muscle in his face soft and relaxed.

“But people
do.  People choose to be alone all the time.”  She put the same emphasis on the
word ‘choose’, its onomatopoeic sound resonating as she drew out the word,
holding it on her tongue.  Her eyes dropped and her head followed.  She took a
long swig from the bottle.  The beer had started to get warm they had been there
so long.

“I think that
they probably make a mistake,” he said.  “I don’t think life is to be lived
alone.”  There was a genuine quality about his words.  They rolled out of his
mouth unconsciously.  Sure, he had thought about this conversation on the way
back from Haven this morning, all the time his conversation from the beach with
Elizabeth ringing in his head.  But as he sat here now, it was as if he was
exercising a verbal form of free writing, just simply letting his brain follow
its own thought, saying whatever it was that came to mind with no guarding, no
corrections, and no holding back. 

“Life isn’t to
be lived alone.  But if you don’t want to live a lonely life, you have to let
people in.  You have to make them belong with you,” she said.  They both knew
that organically the conversation had become all about them.  It had easily
slipped into a discussion about their situation.  She was looking at him again
now.  She was aware that he hadn’t stopped looking at her at all. 

“What if people
make mistakes, and get it wrong?” he asked.  He could think of any number of
his mistakes that he could be referring to, unconscious mistakes, and the
harder to admit purposeful mistakes.  He thought back to Elizabeth and her
words from that morning at the beach.  He thought about the pebbles that she had
thrown into the water.  He knew that he had been one of those pebbles, when his
life had been picked up and tossed into the ocean a year ago.  It was a year
ago and two months since he had woken up in hospital, and ever since that day,
he had floated along, somewhere underneath the surface of the water, bumping
along with the other lost pebbles.  He wanted somebody to pick him up, see him
with all of his time induced imperfections, rub their thumb over him and slip
him into a pocket for safe keeping.  He had been slipping back through Kate’s
fingers ever since she had first found him.  He only hoped that this time, now
that he had ridden the wave that had brought him back to the surface that she
was still there to want him.  That she would still see his unfinished natural
beauty and want to keep it for herself.

“Then it’s up
to them to put it right.” 

“I can, you
know.  I don’t want to live alone anymore.  I don’t want to cut you out.”  He
took her hand and led her to the bed.  They lay back, propped up on the pillows. 
He knew that it was Kate, the woman who had rescued him, put him back together
and nursed him through his pain, which he needed in his life.  He didn’t have
to say goodbye to his memories, only to be open to making new ones.  A life
where both old and new can live alongside each other.  As he felt her breath on
his skin and the grip of her hand in his, he knew that this was his place in
the world.  He chose not to be alone.  He chose to be found.

Jack drove Kate
to the hospital the next morning.  They could both feel the difference in the
air between them.  She trusted him more than she had before, and believed him
when he said that he would be there to pick her up later that evening.  He
arrived a little late for work, something he only realised as he checked his
watch whilst he walked across the car park.  He slipped in by the side entrance,
but this time the corridors were lit and vibrant, and his eyes hurt under the
harsh strip lighting.  There was commotion in the station, as always during the
day and it was this very hum of the background, the collective roar of the
chaos that he thrived on whilst he was at work.  This was the reason he spent
little time in his office; he liked to be out in the thick of the action, be it
on the street or around the other officers.  When he turned the corner, Gibb
was there waiting, tie still done up too tightly and shirt still too tucked
in.  He looked up like an expectant pupil, sat outside the headmaster’s office
waiting for judgement on a misdemeanour.  Jack stopped in front of him, taking
in the image before him.  He thought about it for a while, mulling his words
over in his head, and then decided to say it.

“Gibb, listen. 
It’s what, thirty degrees in this office?  Hey, Sam,” he called across the room
to another officer who was no doubt browsing the internet on the computer.

“What, Boss?”

“What would you
say; it’s thirty, thirty two degrees in this office?”

“It’s hotter
than a brothel Boss!”  Sam didn’t even look up from the computer.  Jack turned
back to Gibb.  He picked up the end of Gibb’s tie, and stood over him like a
headmaster.

“You’re not at
school, and you’re not in uniform anymore.  I know most people we deal with are
dead, but unless you want to join them, you can lose this.”  He let go of the
tie.  “I’m gonna get a coffee and then I want you catch me up.  Alright?”

“Yeah, OK Boss,”
Gibb said, as he started to loosen the constriction around his neck
, and aware of Sam
sniggering on the other side of the office behind him
.

Jack returned
with two cups of hot, sweet black coffee.  He sipped it too quickly and burned
the tip of his tongue.  It felt numb immediately.  He set both cups down onto
Gibb’s desk and pulled up a chair.  Gibb opened his mouth to speak, but stopped
as Jack raised his finger up towards his mouth.  He looked over to Sam.

“You picked up
that Barry guy over in Woodside yet, Sam?”  Sam was shuffling about on his
desk, trying to look as if he was in the middle of something other than the
national headlines and half way through his breakfast.

“Err, what Boss? 
What did you say?”

“Barry Locke. 
Woodside.  Pick him up and bring him down here.  Give him a few hours in a cell
and interrogate him a bit.  If he knows anything else he’ll spill it by then. 
Address is in the paperwork.”  Sam was up and out of his seat, and already on
his way out of the office.  Jack knew that he would stop by the canteen before
he
left
, but at least he was on
his way.  He turned back to Gibb, whose tie was now neatly folded on the corner
of his desk, like a useless paperweight.  “So, fill me in.”

“Right, well Boss,
prints came back a match.  Got virtually a full set of prints from the door of
the locker and a partial print from the key itself.  It’s our woman alright.”  

Jack was
nodding.  “Good.  Good start.  Look, there is no doubt now about who she is, or
that this key is hers.  What we need is to put her life together.

“I think we
should call the Press, Boss.”  Gibb was referring to the journalists. 

“Agreed.  I already
called Elizabeth, the sister, on the way to work.  She is sending me a photo. 
Check the office e-mail and get it printed off.”  Gibb was already on his feet
and heading towards his computer.  “Then call them in.  Press Conference, two
pm.”

Gibb was
standing over the central office computer.  “Yeah, photo’s here Boss.  Got it.”

“Good.  You got
that report handy?  The one from the guys at Wellbeck.”

“Top drawer,
Boss.”  Jack opened the drawer and shuffled the brown files around until he
found the file from Wellbeck.  The last time he had only scanned it.  He wanted
to know everything about this case.  He dropped the report onto the desk and
took a sip of his coffee.  His tongue was still numb.  He opened the file and
recapped the initial page of the report.

‘April 4
^th
,
2006.  9pm.  The surface of the road is wet from the rain.  The road bends to
the right, and at the corner of the bend on the left hand side of the road the
barrier is broken.  Assume broken in crash.  No tyre tracks on road. 
Approaching the edge of the road, the cliff falls away to form a deep ravine,
which looks to go maybe twenty metres down?  There is a vehicle noted at the
bottom.  Vehicle is on fire, even with the rain.  Vehicle is upturned; it is
not possible to see the top of the car at all.  Large amount of debris is
noted, possible items from the car.  Visible windows appear smashed, as
expected.  Driver’s door open.  Ground search will be started immediately. 
Fire service en-route.’

‘April 4
^th
,
2006.  9:45 pm.  Scene of accident secured for investigation.  Initial approach
to ravine reveals a potential passage.  There is no debris from the car.  No
shards of glass noted on the ground at the entrance to the ravine.  The
embankment is heavily damaged from the impact of the car.  The ground is not
easy going but passable.  This could lead to potential disruption of evidence. 
Making my way down to the site of the crash, there is a brown bag noted on the
side of the ravine.  Contains chewing gum, hairbrush, purse, and mobile
telephone.  Purse searched.  Contains three credit cards, twenty pound note and
loose change.  ID noted as Rebecca Jackson.  Car approached.  Driver’s door
open.  Driver’s seat belt is not engaged.  Nothing remains but a metal shell
and a few metal objects from inside the car.  No identifiable body or human
parts.  ID check completed.  Family called.’

He continued
reading the later entries.

‘
April 5
^th
2006 7:30 am.  After the initial searches in the dark, another search was
conducted at first light.  Reveals a slightly different picture.  There are
tyre tracks running along the surface of the ravine.  They are difficult to see
because of the heavy rain, but consistent with tyres running over the surface
of the ground.  The edge of the road is sharp tarmac, and on the edge there appears
to be shards of metal.  Lab guys coming in.  There is no visible damage to the
trees on the other side of the ravine.  The road has an uphill gradient
approaching the curve in the road.  At the bottom of the ravine there is a large
boulder that looks like it has some blue paint on it, consistent with the blue
of the car, which is a Fiesta 05 plate.  The front of the car is buckled.  Top
smashed.  Significant scratching of underside of car noted consistent with
damage sustained from the edge of the road tarmac.’

He sat back in
his seat and tossed the file back down on the desk, running the mental images
of the crash scene over and over in his mind.  Gibb was still printing off the
picture of Rebecca.  He took another sip of coffee, it was cool
er
now and he let the flavour sit in his
mouth, sloshing the fluid around a little before swallowing it down.

“Hey Gibb
.
  When you were in uniform, you deal
with many RTA’s?”  It was a long time since Jack had had any dealings with road
accidents, particularly those that toppled over ravines in unexpected
circumstances. 

“Yeah, quite a
lot.  Why?”  Gibb had worked in the motorway police section for over a year. 
He had seen more crashes than he cared to remember. 

“Ever see
anything go over a cliff?  A ledge?  A ditch even?”  Gibb stood there for a
moment, the printed photograph held limply in his hand.  Jack could see her
blonde hair and ripe green eyes smiling back at him.  She was laughing in the
photo.  He assumed that Elizabeth had taken it.  Gibb walked over and took a
sip of his coffee.  Jack thought how instant the change was. 
Losing the tie
was a good idea
, he thought to himself.