Nobody Knows (22 page)

Grudgingly they all lined up, wished me a good night’s sleep, kissed my forehead, and disappeared out the door. I thought I would be asleep in mere seconds, but two hours later I was still staring into the darkness listening to the gentle hum of the machines, replaying the nightmare of a day. At some point I must have fallen asleep because I don’t remember being wheeled down the corridor and into the operating room.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

Joel

Joel woke with the sun. The house was still and silent. It was weird. Joel usually ranted and raved and complained about the morning noise and the chaos as Gillian tried to get three kids fed and dressed and out the door, but today he missed it. He jumped in the shower, taking time to work out the kinks from his neck. While the couch was comfortable for a couple of hours, sleeping on it wasn’t.

After his shower, Joel sat in the kitchen for the first time in years and ate his breakfast. And for the first time in as long as he could remember he awoke alone and without a hangover. Sitting there eating his vegemite toast, he didn’t know whether it was a good thing or if the loneliness was too much.

When the silence was overwhelming and Joel couldn’t stand it anymore, he grabbed the phone and punched in his mother’s number. He hadn’t used it in over six years, but still he knew it by heart.

“Hello,” she answered stoically.

“Hi Mum, it’s me,” Joel offered timidly.

He heard the phone drop, then some muttering as Adele fought to pick it up. Her shock was evident even across town. “Hello, Joel. How are you?” she asked dispassionately.

“I’m doing okay, Mum. How have you been?”

“I’m fine. Look, I’m rather busy right now; can I call you back later this afternoon?” Joel thought he heard faith there, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he offered desperately.

“No, no. I’m fine. Just a bit busy is all.”

“No problem. Can I just talk to Gillian for a second then?”

“She’s actually not here at the moment, Joel. But I can give her a message if you like,” Adele offered, her tone shaky.

“Where is she then?” His voice hitched slightly.

“Look, Joel,” Adele countered. “She’s not here and I’m very busy. Now is not a good time. I’ll call you this afternoon.”

“For fuck’s sake, Mother! Stop being such a lying bitch and just tell me where the fuck my wife is. I know she hides at your place. And you let her! Don’t you remember that you’re supposed to be my mother, not hers?”

Joel listened as Adele sucked in a deep breath and counted to five. “Joel Jacob Matthews, I am your mother and you will not speak to me like that. And secondly, I know exactly where your wife is, and if you don’t, then that’s the best thing she has done in a long time. You need to stop, and stop now. You know you could go to jail for what you’ve done? I raised you better than this. Grow up, Joel. Be a man and take some responsibility for yourself for a change. Now I have to go. Someone has to make sure your kids get to school on time.”

***

Adele

Stepping back from the phone, Adele was shaking profusely. Although she hadn’t told Joel where Gillian was, she had exacerbated the situation. And told him that she had the kids. Now she was just praying feverishly that he stayed away from them. But she didn’t have time to worry. She had to get them in the car and on their way to school. For some reason this morning Charli wouldn’t eat her breakfast and barely made a peep. She just did what she needed to do and kept going. She helped Lucas with his shoes, made her bed, packed her lunch, and tied up Bianca’s hair. But it was all done with a frown and in deathly silence.

***

Joel

Joel paced up and down like a caged beast, the frustration and anger growing with each step. His face was a twisted, distorted mess, covered in tiny sweat beads as he cursed and muttered under his breath. Then, unexpectedly and out of nowhere, he let out a booming howl. “Where the fuck is she?” he cried to no one. Only the echo of his voice answered him.

The rage grew. Joel quickly tired of standing around waiting for his fate to knock on the door. Instead, he grabbed his car keys and took off. He went to all the places he thought of. He drove past Rhiannon’s but the blinds were shut and there was no sign of life. It didn’t mean she wasn’t there, but finding out at this stage was more trouble than it was worth. He went to Heidi’s but it too looked deserted. It was the middle of the day; maybe she was at work. He drove to her building and parked innocently out the front. Instead of risking alarming Gillian by ringing her office phone, Joel called the main reception line and asked to speak to her. When he was told that she was off sick for the rest of the week he slammed his fist as hard as he could into the steering wheel.

“Where the fuck is she?” he screamed.

Giving up, Joel headed home, stopping on the way for another bottle of bourbon. All his hard work putting their home back together wasn’t appreciated by his so-called wife. She wouldn’t even come home. The bottle didn’t even make it home unopened. Instead, as soon as he was in the car, he was taking long swigs straight from the bottle.

It took barely twenty minutes for it to be half empty. Joel sobbed as he drank alone in the middle of the day. But the sadness was soon replaced by fury and Joel grabbed his phone. First he rang Gillian’s mobile, and when she didn’t answer he left a toxic message on her voice mail. He demanded that she return his call immediately and come home. They had things to discuss. When she hadn’t called back half an hour later, Joel, having downed another quarter of the bottle and clinging to consciousness, sent her a scrambled abusive text message telling her what a whore she was and that he couldn’t believe he had been so dumb to marry her. He added casually that she deserved whatever she had gotten and if she didn’t make it home in the next twenty minutes there would be more of that where it came from.

His ranting over, Joel finished the bottle and passed out on his bed. He was awoken hours later by two burly policemen in uniform standing over him.

“Get up,” the larger of the two instructed.

Joel tried to sit up but his head was spinning. He could barely focus on anything, let alone the two towering over him. Joel was still too drunk to even begin to guess what was going on.

“How can I help you gentleman?” he slurred, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You need to come to the station with us for a little chat,” the smaller one directed, reaching out and taking him by the arm and helping him up. Joel was wobbly on his feet. “Have you been drinking today, sir?”

“Have you?” Joel asked, cocky.

“Go and wash your face and sober up. And hurry up about it. We don’t have all day,” the bigger cop commanded.

Sensing there was trouble brewing, Joel shut up and went and did as he was told. He washed his face and suddenly felt scared. Why were the police in his house? Then he remembered. It hit him like a tonne of bricks. Where was Gillian? She had done this to him, instinctively he knew it.

“Hurry up!” came the roaring voice through the rooms, carrying with it a sense of authority.

Joel staggered back to the bedroom. “You ready?” one of the police officers asked. Joel just nodded. The serious look on their faces told him it wasn’t a joke and it was in his best interest to shut up and behave, but inside he was seething. Gillian would pay for this.

Sitting in the back seat of the marked police car, Joel felt like his whole world was crashing down around him. Someone had said something and now his mind was racing as he tried to come up with excuses and alibis to counter whatever they thought they knew. His head was still woozy and as much as he wished it wasn’t the case, Joel was still drunk. A bottle of bourbon didn’t just magically evaporate out of your body when the boys in blue came knocking. Or in Joel’s case, just helped themselves and came on in.

By the time he arrived at the station Joel was sweating profusely. When he tried to open the door and get out he was absolutely shitting himself when the door wouldn’t open. The child-lock must have been on. The larger of the officers chuckled with delight as he watched Joel fight with the handle. He opened the door and Joel fell out on the asphalt, scraping his hands. The officer just smiled a coy, cunning smile. They had travelled in complete silence, not even the radio quietly in the background. It was enough to drive a person mad. Satisfied that Joel was sufficiently terrified, they led him up the stairs and into the station. Although he wasn’t handcuffed, Joel might has well have been, with one officer either side of him guiding him up the stairs one by one. It was as much for his own safety as it was for intimidation, but it worked for both.

He was led straight into a tiny, bare, windowless room. Joel had seen enough cheesy cop movies to know that someone would appear any minute in a cheap suit, drinking coffee from a Styrofoam cup, and begin asking him the same questions over and over again until they got the answers they wanted. But the truth was Joel had no idea what they wanted. He didn’t know what they knew or what they thought they knew. Did he do something dumb at the pub the other night that they had only just found out about? Or were his worst fears justified? Had Gillian blabbed about their personal lives?

“Mr. Matthews,” a stick figure of a man announced, poking out his hand and offering it to Joel. He was a rather odd looking man, with a cheap toupee of matted grey hair and eyes that were too close together, giving him the resemblance of a bug. “I’m Senior Sergeant Butcher,” he introduced himself. “Have a seat.” He dropped a manila folder on the metal table between them.

Joel slumped into the uncomfortable folding metal chair and waited as patiently as he could, his eyes not wavering from the folder between them even once. He was desperate to know the contents, but he already knew asking wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He would just have to wait.

“So,” he said, opening the file and glancing through it before closing it again and placing it between them. He paused and took a sip of his coffee before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Joel was repulsed and tortured. The not knowing was the worst part. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” he tempted.

Gulping, Joel was trying desperately to sober himself up. He didn’t want to say anything in case it wasn’t what they were talking about. “I’m not exactly sure what it is that you want to talk to me about,” he dodged, sweating openly now.

“Your wife,” the Sergeant hinted, leaving the words hanging.

Joel swallowed his terror and only managed to murmur, “Can I please have some water?”

Frustrated, but not surprised, the Sergeant stood up and left the room to grab Joel a plastic cup of water. Joel knew that this too was a stalling tactic. With a smirk, Joel waited with his arms folded. He had seen enough cop shows to know that the idiot cop was hoping the longer he left Joel alone the more likely he was to crack. Spill his secrets and confess to everything. “He obviously doesn’t know me,” Joel congratulated himself as he found his feet and began pacing. It was only six steps across and six steps back, but Joel was counting them like a man overcome by some unknown and unexpected force.

“Can we continue?” Sergeant Butcher asked, returning to his seat. Joel finished the contents of the glass in one large mouthful but still felt thirsty. Maybe he wasn’t thirsty, maybe he was just scared.

Not trusting himself to speak, Joel just nodded pathetically. He was twitchy now and felt like his skin was on fire. Everything had started to get to him. First the car door that wouldn’t open, then the escort on either arm up the stairs, and now the windowless room with the tiny bug man; things were definitely not looking like this was going to be a good day. And on top of that the pounding headache that was slowly but surely consuming him.

“So, Mr. Matthews,” he began formally, “would you like to tell me what happened between you and your wife?”

Taking a deep, measured breath, Joel looked up. His years in real estate had taught him many things, avoidance and confidence being his favorite lessons. “I’m sorry, Sergeant, but I strongly believe that what happens between a man and his wife in the confines of their own home is a private and personal matter and should be kept between them.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. However, when we have a complaint as serious as the one we have received, we must act. Unfortunately, your beliefs do not put you above the law.” Joel looked at the bug man and knew he was in trouble. This guy was good.

Joel hesitated, carefully measuring his next move, determined not to be trapped into saying something he didn’t want to. He needed to know what the complaint was and who had made it. Probing wasn’t going to be easy, but it was the best option he had. “I understand where you’re coming from,” Joel said, flashing the lopsided grin that had once made the girls swoon, but as he watched the Sergeant’s face droop he knew he was just pissing him off. “Maybe if I knew to which complaint you were referring I could sufficiently answer your questions. I would like to be as helpful as I can be on what sounds like a very serious matter.” Joel folded his hands on the table and sat up straight, reverting to his days as a successful business man.

“Mr. Matthews,” the Sergeant began.

“Please, call me Joel,” he offered with a wave of his hand.

“Joel, then. Let’s cut the crap. You and I both know that I’m not going to tell you who made this complaint and the exact nature. Now I just want to hear your side of it.”