Silent Night

FORTY FOUR

Fire crews had arrived and were battling to put out the blaze at Kearny Medical. The explosion had been monumental, everyone outside shielding themselves from the fireball and wave of heat as the explosives and gasoline in the lab detonated. The flames licking up the side of the building were giving the area an orange glow and the air stank of smoke. Down in the parking lot, Archer spotted Marquez sitting on the back of a car. He walked over and sat beside her. She was staring up at the blaze, the fire lighting up her face, her eyes red-rimmed from tears. Knowing no words would help, Archer took her hand gently. They sat in silence, watching the fire crew attack the blaze. Shepherd approached his two remaining detectives but didn't say anything.

He leant against the car beside Archer, looking up at the burning building, his mood sombre. Then his cell rang. He took it out and answered.

‘Shepherd.’

He listened.

‘OK. We’ll be there soon.’ He ended the call, turning to his two remaining detectives. ‘A van just pulled into the neo-Nazi campsite. Hendricks thinks there may be something inside.’

‘Who’s behind the wheel?’ Archer asked.

‘Wicks.’

Without saying a word, Marquez suddenly jumped off the back of the car. The two men watched her walk over to her Ford Explorer and climb inside.

She fired the engine and roared out of the parking lot, speeding off into the night.

‘Are we going?’ Archer asked Shepherd.

He went to reply, but his phone rang again. He pulled it out, looking at the number and Archer saw surprise on his face. He took the call, turning and walking out of earshot. Watching him move away, Archer noticed Kruger and Maddy Flood standing together to his left, looking up at the fire and talking quietly.

He stood up and approached them. ‘Are you both OK?’

‘Yes,’ Maddy said, her attitude far friendlier now. Archer glanced to his right to see if Shepherd was ready to go.

But Archer noticed that he’d gone very still, the phone held to his ear.

Suddenly, he took off, racing towards his Ford.

‘Sir!’ Archer called. ‘What’s going on?’

Not responding and jumping into his car, Shepherd fired the ignition and pulled a U-turn, the tyres squealing as the vehicle swung hard to the right. Archer ran after the Ford, but Shepherd sped off, barely slowing to turn out of the lot and roaring off out of sight.

Watching him go, Archer shook his head, totally confused. Shepherd had left him and the two doctors behind.

What the hell is going on?



Just like every night for the last six weeks, Beth Shepherd couldn’t sleep. She’d tried sleeping pills, but they hadn’t worked. She’d tried drinking but that was a path she didn’t want to go down any further. Any way she could, she was desperate to fall asleep.

Because it was a release.

In her dreams, she was with her son again.

And for those blissful couple of seconds just after she woke up in the morning, those two words that haunted her weren’t running through her mind like the news feed on CNN. But then they came, as they always did.

Ricky’s dead.

She was lying on the couch, a blanket over her tired body, the television remote in her hand. There was a DVD in the player, her son’s high school graduation from this past summer. Beth’s brother had been on hand to film the whole thing, and there was a moment where she, Matt and the two boys posed together for a photograph. She kept rewinding and watching those few seconds, the four of them in a line with their arms around each other, Matt telling everyone to say cheese. She’d watched it so many times that she’d almost worn away the white arrow on the Rewind button. Her other son Mark was upstairs, asleep. Since it had happened, she’d barely let him out of her sight. She knew it couldn’t continue, the way things were, but to move on was to accept that Ricky was dead and never coming back.

She pushed the Rewind button again. She’d done it so many times that now she didn’t even have to think; muscle memory held it for just the right amount of time. Then she hit Play and watched those few moments of bliss again. She noticed different things each time. Mark’s shirt was half pulled out. Matt’s tie was loose. Ricky’s grin was impish and infectious. They all looked so happy.

None of them aware that Ricky would be dead six months later.

She examined her son’s face, smiling under the mortar-board on his head, a scroll in his hand. She hit Pause and stared at him, tears welling in her eyes. In the dark room, the glare of the television was like a beacon. She examined his face, his smile, his hair, his clothes. Eventually, she tore her gaze from his face and glanced at the digital clock beside the television.

1:15 am.

She realised she felt tired.

I’ll watch it one more time. Then sleep.

She pushed Rewind again for just the right amount of time and the shot wound back. But as she went to press Play, she suddenly sensed movement to her right.

‘Mark?’

She lifted her head and looked over at the doorway.

She jolted back. It wasn’t Mark.

There was a tall man standing there.

Staring at her.

And he had a pistol in his hand aimed at her head.