Salvation

Salvation #20

"Joan what are you doing?" a sharp accusation slips into Roy's voice. Her head cracks up and the colour drains from her tear streaked cheeks.

She folds Ella's t-shirt over her forearm, letting her eyes dart over the bed. "Packing," she mumbles.

"For what?"

"Roy she's not coming back," Joan's voice wavers over her words.

"At least give it some more time," Roy pleads.

"You heard what they said!" she cries.

"They said she could still be alive!" Roy snaps. An ache rises inside his chest, longing for his daughter. ""Please Joan-," he begs.

"No...please just...don't," she lies the t-shirt on the bed. Her trembling fingers hover over the material. "Roy I just want to be able to move on."

"Move on! For God's sake she's still out there!" Roy shouts, "Our daughter is still out there!"

"Christ just stop it!" Joan screams, brushing past him.

Her footsteps echo through the house, silenced by a door slamming against a thick frame. Cringing he lets his head fall against the wall.

His gaze flickers over the bedroom, hesitating over the cluttered desk. He turns away and strides swiftly down the hall. Sweeping the car keys up off of the small table propped beside the door he leaves.

His thoughts rush and tangle together as he yanks the car door open. He slides into the drivers' seat and beats the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. "Damn it!"

Stress and agony strains his voice. He pulls quickly out of the paved driveway, running over the cracked gutter.

His focus flashes between the road and the dark thoughts polluting his mind. His cruel imagination spreads horrid images on the back of his eyelids.

Roy steers toward the small store. He pulls up against the curb and tilts his head back. Closing his eyes he tries to find the calm amongst the storm inside his head.

"Roy!" Jacquie's voice jolts him back to reality. She stands impatiently outside his car with her arms folded across her chest. "Morning Jacquie," Roy groans, cracking the door open.

"You're like twenty minutes late. You do realize that I can't open the door unless you're here?" Jacquie's annoyed tone swarms over him. "Sorry," he mumbles, "I had something to take care of."

He drags himself out of the car and steps around Jacquie. She stares at him with emerald eyes, wishing she could bite back her words. She hovers behind him while he fumbles to open the lock.

"Are they any closer to finding her?" Jacquie's voice turns sympathetic. Roy shakes his head, "Yesterday they found a lot of blood."

He darts into the store, desperate to escape the sound of his own words. "Start setting up."

***

The car lurches forward and the seatbelt digs into Nate's stomach. "Cristina!" he scolds.

"Sentimos!" she apologizes, swerving awkwardly around the corner. Cooper whines and cowers against the back seat.

"We're going to crash," Nate winces.

"

Losucedido?" Cristina asks, reaching toward the dark bruises painted across Nate's neck. They're light on his olive skin, unlike the painful one's coating his arms.

He shrugs and stares out the window. "Nate?" Crintina's gentle voice ebbs inside the car.

"Mira el camino!" Nate is hurled back against the seat, "Watch the road!"

"Sentimos," Cristina winces, pumping the breaks.

She pulls over behind a rusted station wagon. Relief washes over Nate as he quickly clambers out of the car. Cooper leaps over the glove box and jumps onto the footpath.

"Darse prisa," Cristina breathes, adjusting her grip on the wheel. Nate nods, throwing the door shut. Cooper trails behind him into the store.

He runs his fingers over the line of shelves. Cooper sniffs the items before circling Nate's feet. He darts down the aisle, nudging the floor.

"Please kid if you're going to have him in here keep him close," Roy steps over the dog and staggers forward. "Sorry," Nate murmurs, "Cooper vienen."

Cooper obediently races over to him, licking the back of his hand. Roy frowns, "You're Rick's boy right?"

Nate nods, "Si."

"He's Australian though. Isn't he?"

"My mother's Spanish. I grew up there and moved out here when they divorced," a harsh tone catches in Nate's voice.

Roy's thoughts rush, jumping to conclusions. The foreign notes seep into his mind.

His gaze falters over the coloured bruises staining Nate's skin. They overlap each other like patches on worn jeans. "How'd you get those?" he asks, staring at the bloodied gash torn across his temple. "Fell," Nate mumbles.

"That's a pretty nasty fall."

Nate shrugs, burying his hands in his pockets. "Christ kid you look like you've been in a bloody fight," Roy shakes his head. Cooper whines, nuzzling the palm of Nate's hand.

"Well if that's the worst I can get myself into then I think I'm doing pretty well," Nate says.

Roy hesitates, shifting his weight, "How old are you kid?"

"Seventeen," Nate replies cautiously, lifting boxes of food off of the shelf. Roy's gaze flickers over him.

"You speak Spanish?"

"Si," Nate murmurs.

"How many other people around here speak Spanish?"

"Um my sister. Actually she only speaks Spanish, her English is very bad. My father's is pretty fluent. Adam's and Joseph's is very vague."

"Thanks," Roy sighs.

"It's fine," Nate breathes, tucking a box of fruit bars underneath his arm. "I'm sorry about Ella."

Roy's mouth tightens at the corners, "You're a good kid, Nate. Try and stay out of those bloody fights."

Nate laughs bitterly, "I'll do my best."

***

Roy leans over the desk hidden away in the claustrophobic back room. Running his fingers through his silvery brown hair he stares at the note beneath the glass of the picture frame. He rummages through the thick files, tugging the small, crumpled note from between the tight space.

The neat writing spreads across the paper, mimicking that of the one behind the frame. The foreign words dance across the page in cursive.

"See you Roy," Jacquie murmurs, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"You got someone to pick you up?" he asks, dragging a folded newspaper down from the top of his desk. "Yeah. Scott's waiting outside," Jacquie breathes.

She flips her dark hair over her shoulder and draws in Roy's worn appearance. "You alright?"

"Fine," Roy murmurs tightly.

"Don't stay in too late," Jacquie sighs, tugging open the door, "And don't work too hard."

"I'll do my best," Roy mutters.

"C'mon Roy," Jacquie strides back over to him, resting her hands over his shoulders.

Gently she squeezes his shoulders, burying the palm of her hand into the blades. "Cheer up. There's still hope," she says.

"You honestly believe that?"

Jacquie cocks her head to the side, considering her answer, "Yeah. She's a tough bitch. She wouldn't go down easily."

Roy's jaw clicks tight, "Scott's probably waiting."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Jacquie mumbles, leaning across his shoulder and kissing his cheek. She rocks back on her heels and slips quietly out of the room.

"Christ," Roy groans, stuffing the note back into the folder and tilting the frame down against the desk.