Sliver Moon Bay: The Looking (7 page)

Silly Bitch pats my hand. She
offers me a drink. I draw some water in. My throat hurts. I’m
worried about Starling but I know she will have found a safe place
by now. She would have found herself a little nest to rest in. It
wouldn’t be too far. We’ll find her.

‘Drake?’ I croak to Silly
Bitch. ‘Is he okay?’

‘He’s not doing so well, Sarah.
He’s badly burnt. But we’re hopeful.’

I nod, close my eyes. I see
him, in flames, inside Starling’s room, burning like a pile of
twigs. The dude’s a goner, for sure. I’m gonna have to tell
Starling about him one day. How everyone looked for her during the
fire and how her wayward grandad gave his life for her. I will tell
her. After we find her.

20

But we didn’t find her. I slept
for a long time. When I woke up, Silly Bitch was gone and in her
place sat Lilian, looking like death warmed up. She looked at me
and began to cry. Silently. She had these huge tears sliding down
her cheeks and she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t speak. She just
looked at me. I knew. We haven’t found Starling.

Then something weird happened.
I felt myself levitate from the bed. I floated up to the ceiling
where I hovered, looking down at me, lying on the bed, with my eyes
closed, watching Lilian sat in a wheelchair, crying these crocodile
tears that slid down her cheeks like glass snakes. Eventually, they
fell off her cheekbones and shattered on the ground.

I began to scream. It was so
weird seeing the two of me and Lilian right there not reacting at
all. I screamed and screamed, but she didn’t appear to hear me.
Then the door opened and somebody stuck their head in. I fell into
myself and opened my eyes. The door closed.

Lilian saw me looking and
smiled.

‘You feeling better,
honey?’

I nodded.

‘What’s going on, Mum?’

Lilian shifts uncomfortably.
She has something to tell me. I can just see it in her eyes. I wish
she’d just come out with it.

‘They’ve found Starling’s
Sleepy on the beach.’

‘That’s a good thing,
right?’

‘We’re hoping it is, honey.
Chris is out there, looking.’

Lilian starts to cry a little
more. She’s losing control and sobbing now.

‘Mum. She wouldn’t have gone in
the water. She doesn’t like the waves.’

‘I know,’ sobs Lilian. ‘But
she’s so little and it was dark. Why can’t they find her?’

I have nothing to tell her.
There’s just no good answer to this.

‘How is Drake?’

She shakes her head. She’s
wiping her tears. She’s making an effort to get a hold of
herself.

‘He’s still in intensive care,
honey. No change.’

The door opened and Chris came
in. He hugged me. Told me how sorry he was for not finding Starling
already. But he will, he promises, if it’s the last thing he’ll
ever do. Who knows? It might as well be. So we all cry. The hope we
all feel can be hugged so we hug it. Like a family. Then Chris
wheels Lilian away.

I’m left alone to think. I
think of Starling. How little she is, how little she knows about
the world. Where does she fit in it now? And where do I fit without
her? I’m gonna have to find a new place for me but I don’t know
how. Lilian won’t be able to. Chris neither. And nobody else really
matters in our life, do they?

Fairy comes to me late at
night. She’s looking at me like I should not give up hope. So I
won’t. It will make a difference, I know cause I’ve been hoping to
meet Fairy ever since I remembered her. And one day I’m going to.
So I’m gonna really try and be hopeful.

21

Chris and Lilian return. The
door opens for the second time and it’s the cops come to see me.
Captain Josh walks in followed by a stranger, a serious looking
older man. The two shake hands with Chris and Lilian, look at me
and get down to business.

The serious type introduces
himself as Detective Martin. Turns out he’s a senior investigator
somewhere impressive, somewhere where they know what they’re doing
and he’s come to take charge of the investigation. He has a lot of
experience with locating missing children. He’s an expert in the
field, according to Captain Josh who seems anxious in the presence
of such authority. His words hit me like a sledge hammer. We have
an expert on board now so officially we have a missing child.
Starling isn’t just missing now, hiding from the fire, waiting it
out somewhere safe where she chose to stay. Starling is a missing
child. Even Lilian’s registered this, despite her medicated
oblivion; she’s bursting into fresh tears, dissolving in them like
a soggy tissue. Is this all she can do? It’s enough to make one
angry. But I’m still here, thinking for the both of us.

I answer Detective Martin’s
questions. He wants to know our daily routine; what Starling and I
did when we were together, which, he understood, was most of the
time. He throws a glance at Lilian. She, of course, is oblivious.
Too busy crying. Too busy pitying herself to help locate her
missing child. It’s a good thing Chris is holding it together. He
explains that Lilian is not well, that she’s a delicate, frail
person, and if she falls ill when he’s away working, I take care of
Starling. Yes, I have missed a bit of school, yes, this will be
addressed and I will be attending classes regularly in the future,
and now can we please try to find my daughter? Chris assumes a
stance like he’s facing off old Drake; he has crossed his arms,
spread his legs wide apart. He’s ready for a confrontation. His
defensiveness has not escaped Detective Martin’s notice. He takes
note of it alright cause this here is a clever cookie. With a lot
of expertise in the field.

Captain Josh registers the
shift in the atmosphere. He’s trying to be helpful so he’s doing
his best to diffuse the situation. He’s suggesting we go get a cup
of tea from the canteen, just me and them. Give Lilian time to
compose herself. Chris too. But Chris isn’t having any of it. He
hasn’t much respect for Captain Josh to heed his advice. I really
don’t blame him. I wouldn’t take notice of anything Captain Josh
has to say. The dude’s lived in Sliver Moon Bay all his life. He
married Silly Bitch, right out of high school for Chrissakes so
what does that say about him? He settles for what he can see. But
he’s no eye for detail, if you ask me. He’s not found Starling. How
hard can it be to locate one little girl when there’s only one
place to look? Comb the beach, Chrissakes. That’s all she knows.
That’s where we always go to play. We shouldn’t have to call on a
big town detective to figure this out. He’s going to be nothing but
a nuisance. He’s going to dig into people’s lives. I can see
Lilian’s going to be in pieces, permanently. She’s gonna up the
drinking, up the mental-rama she’s powerless against under much
less stress, let alone this. It’ll crush her. So it’s only Chris
who can be counted on. He has a one track mind. He’s not going to
give up. That just leaves old Drake. But he’s been doing things he
might not want people to know about. He might derail the
investigation with new, unhelpful ideas to take the heat off him.
It’d be good if he just did everyone a favour. But we won’t worry
as yet; the way things are going, I don’t think he’s gonna be a
problem.

I’m looking around me and I see
that I really need to get out of here. We have a little girl to
find. And somebody’s got to take charge.

Then Lilian rallies her wits
about her. She tells Detective Martin about the pictures she’s
found in old Drake’s house. Of course, our house is gutted so
nothing of the sort is going to be found so it’s just her word. And
Chris’s. They’re telling the man about the trouble with Assassin
and White Sox but conveniently nothing about Chris stealing his old
man’s dope. I can see Chris’s mind ticking just so. I see what he’s
thinking. What good would it do? —Exactly. Detective Martin writes
everything down, all of Chris’s suspicions about old Drake. How he
took Starling before he started the fire. To teach us a lesson,
says Chris. To pay us back cause he thinks we killed his stupid
dog. He’s set on revenge. He’s already killed our cat. And he knows
Lilian’s found his sick pictures. So he’s stolen our little girl
and set our house on fire. The whole
diving-into-the-flames-looking-for-Starling scene was a ruse. He’s
just that sick. But he’s got her somewhere. And it’s up to us to
find her cause old Drake’s not gonna tell us where she is.

22

Chris was right. The old dude
isn’t going to fess up to anything. Old Drake lies in a hospital
bed wrapped up like a mummy, hooked up to all sorts. It’s obvious
what is happening here. He’s going to die. Still, Lilian pays no
attention to this horrible reality. She’s pleading with him to give
up Starling, to tell us where he’s put her. To just make a sign to
let her know. She’s giving him choices. Is she here? Is she there?
I know she’s safe. I know you wouldn’t hurt her, Drake. Just move
your finger, Drake. Please. Let’s save her. Your flesh and blood.
You know. You’re her grandfather. Have mercy.

Of course, old Drake is immune
to this theatre. He’s past anything useful in this life. I’m
standing there, watching Lilian dying in his place, and the clock
is ticking, as they say. It is. In so many ways. There is pressure
inside me. It’s a hammer, hammering away same old same old. And
nothing is changing. Lilian cries, uselessly, into her hands,
collapsed in her wheelchair, and old Drake doesn’t give a— and I
feel I have to leave. If I don’t, I will take the pillow from under
his head and press it down over his face, and I will not let go
until he has. And then what? —Exactly.

So I lead Lilian away from this
dreadful man. It’s really up to me to find my little birdie.

23

But there’s always something in
the way. Thirty six hours after the fire we’re back home. We’re
staying in the caravan until the house is fixed. We’ll be here a
while cause the house is a mess. The bedrooms are all pretty much
gutted and it smells of smoke in there and Starling’s room is
burned down completely. There’s a big hole in the roof right above
it and there’s basically nothing left of it. Lilian can’t bear to
go near it. So Chris and I carry out what can be used which is not
much, just the coffee table and some furniture in the living room
which is mostly intact as the fire spread on the other side of the
house. But the couch is too stinky and the cushions can’t be sat on
because of the ash so we chuck it out. It’s a job to keep us busy
while we wait to get busy with what matters. Of course, there are
other people doing our job, twenty-four seven. It’s only us lagging
behind. People are swarming all over the beach, the forest, the
town like a bunch of angry bees looking for a new home. Poking into
every nook and cranny. Without much hope cause it’s getting too
long now. Too long in the timeline. And time, in these cases, is
always of the essence. So why am I wasting what’s left of it?

Around the corner, a commotion.
I see Chris by his truck facing off with a man. Ah, not that again.
But it is. A reporter has come by, wants to speak to us, take more
pictures to keep us current, in the public eye. But Chris won’t
allow it. He sets the man straight. Detective Martin is the one to
speak to. There will be no interviews with the family and if you
don’t get out of here I will take that camera off you, man. Chris
is getting hot under the collar. And why wouldn’t he be? He has a
good reason to be pissed off. The press hasn’t been that kind to
us. Speculative, more like. And only marginally helpful. We’ve
cooperated in the hope of, but in reality nothing has come out of
it. Starling’s picture in the paper, the write-up on the situation
in the local rag and the regional tv coverage has netted us a big
fat nothing. So thanks a lot, but you’ll have to move on now, man.
Chris is trying hard to remain civil. He doesn’t want any
attention. There is simply nothing new to report, he tells the man.
The man scratches his bald pate with a calling card. He hands it
over, Chris takes it. You can see he’s going along just to be rid
of the guy. Okay, I will call you if there’s any news. Chris tucks
the man’s card in his shirt pocket and Baldy goes away. You can see
what he’s thinking just by the way he strides purposefully down the
path towards his car. He’s thinking he has wasted enough of his
time. The burned out house, the family anguish here has been milked
just about dry and unless there’s a new lead, some new development
to capture the public’s imagination, this human interest story has
been told. So the man goes, for now. Course, I know that he’ll be
back. He will so be back.

Chris is leaving now too. He’s
joining the search which has moved away from the shore line towards
the road to town. They’ve got fresh horses, sniffing dogs,
experienced trackers. Chris is being very hopeful right now.
Everyone’s out there looking. The weather is holding up well. We’re
in with a good chance. She’s in with a good chance. To survive
another day in her hidey hole. And we’re going to find it.
Today.

So Chris leaves and I’m in
charge. Of Lilian who’s resting in the caravan. She’s been
re-medicated.

Soon she falls asleep. I’m free
to go looking. I know where I want to begin. At old Drake’s.

There’s nobody there. Not even
a crime tape stretched across the front door so I walk in cause
it’s open. The place is clean, neat. The bed’s made. It looks
exactly like the last time I was here. So nobody’s looked for
anything in here. The pictures are gone, obviously. Starling isn’t
here, obviously. But just in case, I call her. Starling! Starling!
—But it’s only me in here looking stupid, acting loud. So I go to
the shed and I look there. I peek into Assassin’s kennel. Just in
case. And now I know why nothing’s been disturbed. There’s no need
to disturb the peace here. It’s not where it happened, is it? So I
walk around, peeking into places, all over the property. It takes a
while, course it does. But a job needs to be done properly so I
look. Everywhere. Lurk, observe, look, poke. The usual but it’s no
fun without Assassin snapping at your heels. It’s weird but I do
miss the old man breathing down my neck. Lurking here is no fun
now. If just feels empty without him shadowing me, watching.
Snapping his stupid photographs. A lot of good that did him. The
fool.