Detained

It was fresh, it was original content, and it was breaking news. Her wire service contact told her it would get broad pick-up and run internationally. He asked if there’d be more.

It earned her enough to finance their road trip and broke all of her agreements with Spidey. Peter Parker could sue her for all her leftover cash. It was the best story she’d ever written, and she was proud of it, even if one detail was off. There was no evidence in electoral rolls, council, social security or tax records that anyone called Parker ever lived in Tara.

Tengtou village wasn’t all dusty streets, lean-to shacks and skinny dogs. It was rural, pretty and prosperous. And it had already been raked over by every media organisation on the planet. As they drove in, a CNN truck was barrelling out.

Bo grunted as it went passed, “Big noise.”

From the windblown back seat Robert said, “What’s the plan now, Grandfather?” but he’d stopped being sarky. He and Bo had reached an accommodation.

“He who knows all the answers has not asked all the questions,” said Bo.

“Will there be much English spoken here?” Darcy asked. The further they’d driven from the city, the more a liability she felt she was becoming.

“Some,” said Bo. He glanced across at her. “They’ll come to you.” He pulled the car into a side street off the town centre and gestured over his shoulder. “You sit out there. They will see you. If they want to speak they will come.”

Darcy sighed. She was a novice investigative reporter on the biggest story of her life, and her role was to sit in the sun until some random local wandered up to say hi. How Brian would laugh. How Andy would scoff. This was a very long way from being able to help Will Parker in any shape or form.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to photograph buildings, and see what I can dig up,” said Robert, jamming a faded Sydney Roosters cap on his head. “I’ve trained for this, Lin Gui, remember.”

“I will talk to people about the village,” said Bo. “We don’t mention Will, okay. Learn more by being quiet.”

They split up; Robert going off with a jaunty whistle, his camera slung over his shoulder, Bo going to a restaurant and taking a seat. Darcy watched him settle at a common table and order. She turned away and wandered through the main village centre towards a park. She could see a children’s swing set and a slippery dip shaped like a dragon, but the park was empty. She’d driven for two days with two men she hardly knew in a death trap to sit in an empty park.

Behind her sunglasses her eyes watered. This was an insanely stupid thing to have done. Realistically, she’d already exhausted her ammunition in support of Will by writing the one story she could write, and the best it would do is start another feeding frenzy.

Tengtou had already been picked clean, and no doubt the media would be swarming all over Tara soon too. Someone with better resources and deeper pockets would solve the problem of the Parker name. And if Peter Parker and the Australian Government couldn’t secure Will’s release then it probably couldn’t be done.

She closed her eyes and images of Will flooded her senses. Will dancing with her pashmina, embarrassed but doing it anyway. Will laughing at her, egging her on to sing in the bath. Will touching her tenderly, roughly, completely. Will walking into her punch physically, emotionally, and mentally again and again and again.

She opened her eyes when tiny, sticky hands grasped her legs. They belonged to the cutest toddler in a pale blue bodysuit with Buzz Lightyear images printed all over it. He had enormous brown eyes and thick black hair that stuck up every which way. He was studying her as though she was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

“Hello little man, where did you come from?” There was no one else in sight. “Where’s your mummy?”

Buzz boy gurgled and gave Darcy’s knee a good patting down. He didn’t seem in the least bit worried to be touring the town on his own. She looked around again, there’d be a frantic carer around somewhere. Meanwhile Buzz boy had run out of puff to stand. He plumped back on his bottom in the dirt and grabbed a handful of it. He had one fist in his mouth before Darcy was quick enough to react.

“Oh baby, no, no, no, don’t eat that.”

Too late. He made a face, his tongue working between his lips, dirt and spit coating his chin. His eyebrow went up and stayed there, and he flapped his arms in annoyance. He looked at Darcy as though it was all her fault and started screaming.

“Oh hell!” She scooped him up, scanning for mum, dad, big sister, anyone who had the frantic look of lost kid. Once in her arms he stopped crying, his hands went to her sunglasses and he pulled them off her face, smiling when he saw her eyes, which he decided were a good target to poke.

She dodged his pudgy hands, and rescued her sunglasses from his grip. “Who owns you, baby? Did you run away? I understand that, sometimes life gets hard doesn’t it?” She spat on her fingers and tried to clean the dirt off his face and he twisted his head to get away. “You wait till you’re my age, and you’ve done something really dumb, and you end up a long way from home with no job, no prospects, and a hole in your heart. Then you’ll really know you’re eating dirt.”

Buzz boy looked at her and laughed. “Oh you think that’s funny.” Then his focus went over her shoulders and his arms shot out in front. His little body tensed and his face was wreathed in smiles. Darcy turned to find a relieved mum running towards them.

“Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry!” Mum’s arms came up and Darcy shifted a wriggling Buzz into her grip. He latched onto a stand of her hair and pulled as they exchanged his weight.

“Oh, sorry, sorry,” said the mother again. English words, even if on repeat.

“He’s okay, but he ate some dirt.”

The mother bumped Buzz to her hip and regarded Darcy. “Thank you.”

Darcy smiled, “He’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.”