"We identified the two other girls," Jason sighs. He leans over his desk, flicking through gruesome photos and thick files of information.
Marissa nods, "Who've we got?"
"Nicole Frazer. Aged eighteen and disappeared from Newcastle January 2001. And Madeline Drake. She was nineteen when she disappeared from Grafton March 1998," he says.
"Have you found anything in common with the other girls?"
"Madeline was last seen at a local pub when she disappeared. Her boyfriend remembers her telling him that she was going outside to call a taxi. Taxi service has no record of her calling.
"Nicole had gone to a party with a group of friends. She stayed behind after they went home," Jason murmurs.
"So all of the girls had been drinking," Marissa breathes.
Jason nods, "And from what we could gather from the interviews all of our girls were still virgins."
"Christ," Marissa gasps, running her fingers through her blond hair, "This creeps crucifying virgins."
The corner of Jason's lips pull tight, "I did some research on bible stories but all I could find is stuff about the virgin Mary and the crucifixion of Jesus."
"I'll take over," Marissa mutters.
Jason shakes his head, "No I'm fine."
"Jason go home," Marissa sighs, gathering the photos splayed across his desk. Jason groans and presses his fingers against his temples. "We don't have time," he mumbles.
"I'll take care of it."
Jason shakes his head, "It's fine."
Marissa's gaze flutters over the cluttered desk. It rests on the photo of a small girl huddled against a swing set. Her smile beams up at Marissa through the glass of the wooden frame.
"Is this Abby?" she asks.
Jason eyes quickly flash over the picture. "Yeah."
"She grew up fast," a smile tugs at the corners of Marissa's lips. She stares at the small five year old girl. Jason nods, "She's starting to make me feel old."
"Yup. You're a real old man at twenty-eight," she teases.
The dim light spills over both of them. "Look go home. Get some rest and come good tomorrow," Marissa says. Jason nods, reluctantly giving in.
He drags himself out of the chair, scooping up his jacket. "See you," he murmurs.
"Jason," Marissa breathes picking his car keys up off of the desk.
"Hmm?"
"You'll need these," she dangles them between two delicate fingers. She shakes her head and tosses them to Jason. "Thanks." Marissa watches him wander out of the station and into the parking lot. Rain pelts down on him, sweeping him up into the summer storm. Drops catch in his brown hair and he climbs into the beat up 4WD.
Marissa sighs heavily and glances at the picture of Abby. Ella's face pollutes her mind. She cringes and turns away.
***
Joan stares blankly at the TV. "I'll make you a coffee," Callie murmurs, leaving the small room.
Silence oozes into the air and threatens to suffocate Joan. She watches colour spill across the screen and merge together. Small figures in fluorescent jackets trudge through the thick bushland. A monotonous reporter drones on about her daughter, about the frail hope dimming.
Tears glaze her eyes and cling to her lashes. A sob catches in the back of her throat and a thick weight fills her chest.
A poisonous rage shoots through her vanes. It heats her blood and intoxicates her mind.
She hauls herself to her feet and scoops up a small blue bowl off of the glass coffee table. Crying she hurls the bowl at the TV. It grazes the top and shatters against the wall. Glass tangles amongst the TV cables and digs into the carpet.
"Joan!" Callie scolds. Horror slips into her voice. She stares at Joan with wide green eyes.
"M-my baby," Joan chokes. Callie's gaze turns sympathetic.
She strides across the room and sit's the cup of coffee on the table and switches the TV off. Callie wraps her arms around Joan's shoulders, squeezing her gently.
"I'll clean it up," she sighs. Joan nods weakly, trembling against Callie's embrace. "We're going to find her," Callie says, slipping away from her. "She's a strong girl."
"I'm sorry," Joan mumbles, smearing the tears away. Pain clamps down on her heart as if it's attempting to drown it in it's own heavy thud. Her head swirls with confusing, overpowering emotions and her legs feel weak beneath her leaden weight.
"I'll just be a sec," Joan sighs, staggering backward. She flees the claustrophobic room and stumbles down the narrow hallway. Nausea clutches her, tightening around her body.
She throws the bathroom door open and slams it shut. She snaps the lock down and sinks onto the tiled floor. Trembling, she huddles against the wall and sobs.
Her lungs barely permit her to take a drag of humid air. Closing her brown eyes she lets her head fall back against the wall. Her fiery red hair tumbles over her shoulders and clings to her damp cheeks.
The sickly sound of her rabid heartbeat consumes her, leaking into her skull. The sound echoes inside her head.
She doubles over, crying against her knees. She twists the hem of her shirt around the back of her hands, knotting it around her fingers.
"Joan?" Callie's voice drifts through the heavy wooden door, "Come on hon."
Joan's ragged breathing rips through her throat and rounds against the roof of her mouth. "My little girl," she whispers.
***
Jason awkwardly shoves the front door open. It swings loosely on it's hinges revealing the welcoming room concealed behind it.
Abby drags herself off of the bottom step of the slim staircase. She wraps her small arms around Jason's leg, "Daddy!" Her squeal rings through the house like a melodic requiem, gradually reviving Jason.
"Hay sweetheart," Jason murmurs, scooping her up. He shifts her weight onto his hip. Her blond hair brushes his shoulder.
Heidi stands in the doorway with her arms folded across her chest. Her lips pull into a small smile, "You're late."
"Sorry. I got caught up," Jason apologizes, kissing her on the cheek. Heidi rolls her pallid blue eyes and shakes her head. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow night. I'll cook," Jason promises.
"God help us all. You'll burn the place down," Heidi teases.
Jason wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her against his chest. He kisses her roughly with a passionate hunger.
YOU ARE READING
Salvation
أدب المراهقينShe's his prize, his beautiful, flawless prize. She's his trophy, a girl he stole from the world. He holds her captive in the harsh shadows of the basement and tortures her. He loves her, charishes her every breath and lives off her every scream. He...
