Sydney Airport, Australia – Bangkok International, Thailand
December 28th
Steve had packed his small bag quickly with whatever items he thought he'd need, equipped with pictures of Tessa in case he needed to put up posters. He'd chosen not to give much thought to what he was doing, instead just focusing on getting the task done. The other things could come later, once she'd been found and taken care of.
Now he was standing in line at Sydney Airport with a number of others like him, all talking about how they were going up there to find relatives or friends, or just simply to help with the work up there. He was surprised by the sheer number of volunteers, reminding him of the community spirit he was used to while growing up in the countryside. It lacked in Sydney, where the four walls of people's homes were both their protector and their captor.
It was a morning flight – the earliest he could get on short notice. He would be landing around midday local time. Steve was much too tense to get any sleep on the plane, however, and he resorted to stare out the window silently as he'd done for the past twenty-four hours.
Time went slow. The plane was packed to the brim with people and Steve had ended up next to a couple of talkative volunteers, who kept going on about the recent figures and internet forums having been set up for missing persons and death toll, before they changed topics to cricket and politics. Though usually a cricket fan, Steve ignored the conversation beside him and didn't feel like giving his two cents. Who could talk of cricket when his partner was still missing in a tsunami-devastated area?
Steve's latest call to the embassy had found some semblance to order and control, but they still claimed Tessa hadn't made contact with them, nor had they managed to track her down. He'd asked about Bridget as well, but failed on her physical description as he didn't recall her face when they asked him to identify her. As far as they'd known, however, she hadn't been located either. It made him briefly wonder if someone was going up there to look for her as well. Steve hadn't thought of bringing a photo of her.
It made him feel guilty all of a sudden.
Forcing the feeling down, Steve returned to stare blankly at the white clouds underneath the wings and blue sky stretching on into the distance. The sun was shining. It'd been a promising hot day back in Australia. The weather reports said it would be hot in Thailand too.
A sudden image of one of his old cases popped into his mind and Steve grimaced in disgust. He knew what heat and water did to bodies. He'd heard Tootsie recite the effects often enough to know the details. And he was getting straight into this.
No. Leave it for later. You can't fuck this up.
It was hard: the more he tried to forget it, the more it kept repeating itself inside his mind, but Steve somehow managed to get rid of the thought by thinking of something else. He thought of the last night he and Tessa had done some renovation on his house together. It was more than three months ago, before the politician case, before the art gallery murder. She'd had paint on her face. Adorable, he'd reckoned. Fierce, teasing, and beautiful.
The image stayed with him and, without his knowledge, a smile.
At the airport, Steve gathered his small bag and exited the baggage reclaim area after the many volunteers and searchers like himself. He'd gotten into a conversation with one of them about getting transportation to the embassy, but another had said there was no point; visiting the embassy was only a waste of time – the hospitals had better records of who the patients were. So he was now in a group of six like him, four Aussies and two Kiwis, all coming here with a common goal: to find someone they knew or loved.
The airport was overflowing with tourists and travellers. Most of them seemed all right, with no visual injuries, but they were soon replaced with the first signs of a disaster having struck them: foreigners with bandaged arms and legs, bruises the size of tea cups and gashes all over their bodies. Steve overheard a woman speaking in rapid Scandinavian, or German – he wasn't sure – and saw the tears trailing down her dirtied cheeks even though she smiled into the payphone. A small child was clinging to her leg in apathy, wide-eyed. They were obvious survivors.
A sense of dread filled him as he passed others in similar state on his way to the exit. The group ahead of him had fallen silent, walking steadily, but at the same time gazing around at all the people cluttered in the departing hall waiting for a plane to take them home.
"We're heading to the hotel first, then the main hospital in Phuket," a burly man told Steve in a broad northern accent.
Frankie MacPhearson had come from Cairns and was looking for his cousin and her husband. They'd been reported missing. His wife was currently keeping an eye on the forums, he'd told Steve earlier as they'd waited for their luggage. Apparently some forums had been put up for organising missing and found reports from next of kin. Steve had sent Tootsie a text message to check it out as soon as he'd turned on his phone.
"Then we'll just take them as they go," Frankie continued after a short break.
Steve only nodded, not knowing what to say. He usually had words in these situations, being thrown into them nearly every week, but now he couldn't find any. He just let his feet carry him away.
They managed to get a driver and a van. The driver was of the small-talker type; he kept on and on about this and that, but mostly about what he'd experienced. A lot of people needed a lift from the airport to the hospital, he said. Many foreigners.
Steve only gazed out of the window at the busy streets and markets passing them. It seemed just like any other big city. But it wasn't.
Sydney
New South Wales, Australia
The Same Day
Tootsie looked up as a text message ticked in on her mobile phone.
She rose quickly, nearly tipping over her cup of cocoa in the process, and went to the kitchen counter where her phone had been awfully silent for the last five hours.
"It's from Steve," she exclaimed, voice shaking as she read. "He's landed. He says to check out the Internet – there are forums and lists published by hospitals and embassies."
"I'm on it," her companion replied, more toned down and calm than she could ever hope to be right now.
Lance Fisk had graying hair and inquisitive eyes that often put a spell on her, but Tootsie could honestly say she couldn't have done without his silent strength. She followed him as he found her laptop and logged on.
Together they sat down, neither saying a word, and looked wherever they could think of, until finally stumbling across a wealth of sites slowly coming about with their forums and missing/found sections. With a heavy heart, Tootsie guided him around and made the necessary posts.
"We'll have to write a description under the 'missing' section," Tootsie stated before laughing nervously. "Even though I have no idea what she was wearing or—or where she was staying. All I know is that she was in Khao Lak."
Lance looked up at her, not smiling with her, taking her hand in his. "We'll work it out. Fanny must know something. Didn't she say Tessa called her three days ago?"
Tears in her eyes, Tootsie nodded. "Yes. Yes, you're right. I'll...I'll give her a call." She stood and found her phone again, swallowing the lump in her throat as she punched the number she wondered would stick to her memory for months afterwards.
Phuket
Phuket, Thailand
The Same Day
It was inevitable. Steve had known it'd be worse. He just didn't expect it, nor was he prepared for the sights surrounding him. Wounded were lying all over the place, on carpets or mattresses, most heavily bandaged and with the eyes of someone who'd seen the world crash around them. There were nurses and doctors running in all directions, never resting, always on the move. They barely had time to point them in the direction of the boards carrying pictures and descriptions of patients.
In front of the numerous corkboards, people huddled together, watched over each other's shoulders and snuck a peek wherever they could. It was crowded, filled to the brim with foreigners and locals alike, everyone searching for someone. Not everyone was like him either, coming overseas. Many looked as if they'd been here when it happened, still clothed in dirty scraps or sporting minor and major injuries.
It was impossible not to get affected and one of the Kiwis in Steve's group was openly crying – a young woman, searching for her parents that'd been on a holiday trip. As for himself, Steve felt a familiar detachedness fill him as he walked firmly towards the lists and began to work through them methodically.
One list after another, Steve read and moved on to the next name or picture. So many wounded, so many unidentified and identified people having been caught in one of Earth's biggest natural disasters to date. Yet even as those around him were crying or frowning solemnly, Steve felt nothing had ever been seen with such clarity. He had a purpose here.
His heart skipped a beat when he saw a Polaroid of a blonde woman high up on the corkboard. He wound his way around an elderly woman bent over to read a list over European patients, standing on his toe balls for a better view.
It wasn't Tessa.
Steve withdrew his eyes and went back to where he'd left, scouring through the list until he reached the end.
Beside him, one of the Aussies – an elderly fellow from Sydney – had found his brother in one of the pictures. He was grinning through his tears, rejoicing happily as he hurried out of the room. Steve watched him go until he shook himself out of his stupor, cursing himself as he did so.
Tessa wasn't in any of the pictures or on the lists. Steve searched them all, thrice over. So did the rest of the group he was now travelling with by circumstance. Apart from the Sydney man who'd found his brother alive and well, none of them had found the ones they were looking for.
"Well, there's a lot of hospitals," the second New Zealander – a young man looking for the rest of his family – spoke up as they reconvened outside to try and catch another driver.
Steve wondered how many more he could visit before the end of the day.
In Phuket International Hospital, Steve held a little boy's hand while the doctor gave him a morphine shot. A good chunk of his leg had been taken in the fight against the tidal wave, and later, in a bad infection. Nobody knew who or where his family was. All the boy spoke was a European language and they hadn't found someone to interpret yet. But the brave smile he gave Steve afterwards made his stomach clench as he smiled in return.
God, the boy looked only about seven or eight years old. Only a few years older than Gabby. Brown-tanned from hours in the sun and with light hair brighter than Tessa's blonde curls. He'd probably run around and played in the sea or the hotel swimming pool. He shouldn't be lying there. Injured. Alone in the world. Still smiling.
The image stayed with him as Steve went outside to find his travelling companions. Kids were always hard when he found them dead. In this setting, it was a bittersweet victory to find kids alive but with no family and badly wounded. The doctors hadn't known whether the infection would spread and they'd be forced to amputate. For the kid's sake, Steve hoped it'd work out.
"You right?" Frankie asked him as he stepped up to them.
"Yeah," Steve mumbled. The others just looked at him in understanding. This was their fourth hospital – it didn't get any better or prettier.
Two more of their group had split off when they'd found their loved ones – the female Kiwi had found her mother, and one of the Aussies had found their friend. Now they were down to three. Frankie, Steve and the young Kiwi male looking for his family.
"So this woman you're looking for, who is she? Sister? Girlfriend?" Frankie asked him as they waited for an available driver to come by them. He looked at him curiously but seemingly without expecting an answer. Steve had been close-lipped ever since they'd arrived.
Steve almost smiled at the thought. Tessa his girlfriend? No way.
"No, she's not my girlfriend," Steve clarified. "She's my partner. Police."
"You're a copper?" Frankie looked surprised. Steve nodded. "Blimey! You must be used to this, then. Identifying people, I mean," he mumbled quickly, then froze as he reconsidered his words. "Sorry, that didn't sound right."
"It's all right," Steve assured him, hands in his shorts pockets, his neck and shoulders aching with tension. Frankie looked sheepish and ashamed.
"Well, sorry anyway. It's not exactly...well, you know, it wasn't very considerate." He flushed.
Steve didn't reply. The Kiwi man shifted on his feet, mimicking Steve with hands in his pockets.
"What unit are you in?" Frankie asked after a momentary pause. Small talk. They were standing amongst wounded and mourning people and making small talk.
Some cope like that. Self-preservation. You use black humour and detachment. Well, until you started yelling.
"I'm in Homicide," Steve replied, the thought weighing heavily on his mind right then. The conversation halted with that statement, but Steve didn't instigate continuation, and Frankie turned to the New Zealander instead.
Nearly ten years of Homicide experience under his belt; some would say he could count himself lucky. Those experiences wouldn't make this seem as awful to him as any other murder. Ignorance, Steve decided, would be man's downfall.
He didn't think about it further. He knew the cost of those experiences that'd made this event have less effect on him, and he wouldn't count himself lucky.
However, right now he appreciated his cold heart of steel.
Tessa wasn't in any of the Phuket hospitals. It was closing in on evening and fewer drivers were willing to take him down to Khao Lak to start going through the ruins there. He wouldn't search the mortuaries yet. There was still hope. It had only been three days and Tessa was in good shape and a strong-willed woman – he had faith in her survival. He had to.
Steve was sitting in his hotel room watching CNN on the small satellite telly when the phone called. It was Fanny.
Throughout the day she'd been calling him nearly every hour to hear if there was any news. He couldn't get annoyed with her. If his daughter had been missing in an area where tens of thousands had been reported missing or dead, he would've wanted to get updated every hour too, even when there was no new news to hear.
"Hello, Mrs Simmons," Steve greeted.
"Mr Hayden...Steve...have you—have you found anything?" Her voice was thick and shaking. She knew he hadn't found her or else he'd call, but she still needed the words of reassurance.
"I've been through the hospitals in the area today. I'm afraid I found nothing." He leaned heavily on his elbows as he rubbed his eyes. The jetlag wasn't doing him any good, neither did the running around, but he wouldn't complain about it. "I've got a friend looking at the forums and keeping me informed. She's sent me off to several places to follow up on a description or other. It'd be a great help if I knew where Tessa was staying..."
Fanny sighed openly, taking a moment to check herself. "She was talking about some sort of resort in Khao Lak. I—I barely spoke to her that day. They were staying in a—a bungalow, I think?"
How easily they turned to past tense, Steve's mind supplied him darkly, and he pushed it away quickly. He couldn't fall into this trap.
"Do you remember her saying anything about which part of town? East, west, north, south? Anything at all, no matter how small, will help." He said this to reassure her, as if she was just another regular witness sitting with information sitting deep in her conscience. It was a role he fell into easily.
"I'm sorry...I'm quite useless," Fanny sniffled, obviously distressed.
Steve reigned in his sigh, wishing not for the first time that Tessa had told him where she was staying in the message she'd left on voicemail. But no, it'd been just a simple message to say she'd taken their advice and gone on a holiday trip to Khao Lak in Thailand; that Bridget Murphy had found some cheap left-over tickets and they were leaving the same day.
"Okay. Let's try something else," Steve said, returning to the present. "Where were you when you received the phone call?"
"We were at Minnie's...uh, Tessa's step-sister. We'd just had Christmas dinner."
"All right, and what were you doing at the time?"
"Cleaning up," Fanny replied. "I answered the phone inside the kitchen."
"Close your eyes and visualise it," Steve told her. "Try to remember what you were doing, what you saw and what you heard while talking to Tessa. It might jog your memory." Cognitive method had worked on many eyewitnesses over the years; it was amazing what they managed to remember just by visualising their memories.
"Well, as I said, I was cleaning up. Minnie offered to give me a hand, but I insisted on doing it myself, telling her to take care of the kids. Then Tessa called and I... I was a bit surprised, but pleased. She wished me Merry Christmas and asked how I was doing. I told her fine and asked her the same. She said she'd taken an early holiday leave and was in Thailand with a friend. She didn't say why, and I think she was hesitant to say it, but I brushed it off because...because it's how it's always been. And then Guy came asking me if I wanted to come outside and Tessa said something about... oh!" Fanny exclaimed suddenly. "She mentioned something about going to the restaurant at the hotel. It was called... oh, what was that name...? Yes, I remember now – the Thai Sunflower!"
"Thai Sunflower? You're sure?" Steve asked to clarify. It sure sounded like any sort of restaurant in a typical holiday paradise. Any name would be useful, no matter how common and unoriginal – he could ask the locals about the nearby hotels and such.
"Yes, I'm sure. I was watering a flower at the same time, so I remember it now. Will it help?"
"Yes, very much, thank you," Steve said in earnest, reaching up to rake a hand through his hair. He felt exhausted. It'd been a very long day. He should get some rest. Whatever he could get.
"Oh, anything I can do...just...just let me know, okay?" Fanny sounded tired too, as well as hesitant and distraught. Worried like a mother hen. So different from how Tessa had described their relationship.
Steve wondered what else hid behind Tessa's mask as he watched the mute CNN news on the telly covering another story on survivors from Sumatra – it'd been the worst area hit.
"I will."
