Fractured (19 page)

Wendy put her hand on his arm; she was trembling. He looked at her and smiled reassuringly, despite not feeling reassured
himself. Anna didn’t need to see her mother looking so frightened; it would unnerve her even more. ‘It’s OK, Wendy. Come on.’

‘Where’s the lawyer?’

‘Don’t worry, he’ll be here. We won’t let them start without him.’ Even so, Tony glanced at his watch. He’d said nine o’clock;
where was he?

‘Are you sure he knows where to come?’

‘Yes, he’ll be here. He’s a good bloke.’

‘It’s been a while since you were at uni though; what if —’

‘Wendy, stop worrying.’

‘Sorry.’

As they approached the door to the nurses’ station, Dr Morgan saw them and beckoned. Hill and Kaminsky turned around too,
but didn’t smile. Tony nodded at the psychiatrist, took a deep breath and walked slowly forward, as if the few extra seconds
might allow him just that bit longer to work out what to say. He hoped his voice wouldn’t shake when he spoke; he needed to
appear confident. He had told the detectives what they needed to know, but was it enough to keep Anna safe? Did he even want
to keep her safe? His face flushed; he had wondered all night if he’d done the right thing in organising a lawyer for her.
Part of him wanted to leave her to work this situation out herself. But when the morning had arrived, he had realised that
no matter how much he hated Anna at times, he couldn’t leave her defenceless. He had to believe with all his heart that she
had been ill. The alternative was unbearable.

Dr Morgan led them all to a small interview room. It was bare except for six grey plastic chairs arranged around the perimeter.
There was no window, just a fluoro tube on the ceiling that gave off a sallow light. They all sat down: Tony and Wendy on
one side of the room, the police on the other, and Dr Morgan along the wall between them, an empty chair beside her.

After some polite, pointless greetings, Tony cleared his throat and said, ‘Detective Hill, I wanted to catch you before you
interviewed Anna. I just want to ask, what is this leading to? I mean, what are you going to do?’

The detective leaned back in his chair. ‘At this point, Tony, we will interview her at the station, and once we’ve done that
we’ll decide what to do next.’

‘What do you mean? What are your options?’

‘I’m sure you understand that we need to decide if there’s enough evidence to charge her —’

‘Charge her?’ Wendy gasped at his words. ‘I thought this was an interview – you know, just a talk. That’s what I told her.’

Tony felt a surge of adrenalin go through him as he spoke. ‘No, no, no, you can’t … Surely the doctors have told you how ill
she’s been. You’ve seen her – she couldn’t even talk, she didn’t know what was going on! I know they say she’s better, but
obviously she’s been ill, really ill, and she didn’t know what she was doing. Dr Morgan, you’ve told them, haven’t you?’

Dr Morgan nodded. ‘Of course, and that will all be taken into account, but we still have to go through this process.’

Detective Hill puffed out his chest like a cane toad and sat with his legs open as if he were relaxing at home. Tony couldn’t
bear to look at him.

The detective spoke unhurriedly. ‘Tony, our job is to gather evidence to see if we believe a crime has been committed. Then
it’s up to the courts to determine guilt or innocence.’

Tony turned to look at Wendy. Her chin was twitching, but she looked down at the floor, defeated. Had she given up on Anna
already? Was he the only one still fighting for her? Yes, it had crossed his mind, how easy it would be for them to just take
her, for her to just disappear out of his life so he never had to see her again. But now that could be a possibility, his
body burned with guilt.

He looked at both the detectives: they watched him blankly. To them, this was just another case, a normal day’s work. But
this was his family, Anna’s life. Jack’s memory.

There was a knock at the door and someone entered. Tony stood and smiled in relief.

‘Scotty!’

Scott Hardy had been in the year above him at university; they had both played in the rugby team and Scott’s nose was still
a bit crooked after breaking it in the final against Melbourne Uni. He had put on a few kilos, but Tony was relieved to see
that otherwise, he
was unchanged. Scott was a link to his life before this, to something familiar in the chaos around him.

Scott shook Tony’s hand and smiled, but then his expression became serious. He nodded to the others in the room, and Tony
let himself breathe out.

‘Scott Hardy.’ He shook everyone’s hands. ‘Sorry I’m a few minutes late.’ He sat in the empty chair next to Dr Morgan, unzipped
his leather satchel, then took out a black notebook and a shiny silver pen. He stretched out his right arm, exposing a gold
cufflink from under the sleeve of his navy blue suit, then settled back into his chair, pen poised. Tony saw Wendy gazing
at the lawyer with a smile on her face, and he could understand her awe. He had definitely done the right thing. Maybe now
someone
would be on Anna’s side.

‘I take it you haven’t interviewed Anna yet?’ Scott said to the detectives.

‘Of course not,’ Hill replied.

Scott nodded. ‘Right. I met with her briefly this morning …’

That was why Scott was late: he’d been with Anna. Tony should have known he could trust him. Last night, when Tony had rung
him, Scott hadn’t hesitated to take on the case. He had said he’d be here, and he was. Tony suddenly felt lighter knowing
that someone else would share the burden of protecting Anna; someone objective, free of internal conflict.

Scott continued, ‘She knows that she’s going to be interviewed today, and I assume you’ll be doing that at the station?’

Kaminsky nodded.

‘Is she allowed? To leave, I mean? To leave the hospital?’ Wendy said to Dr Morgan, her eyes pleading.

‘Yes, I’m happy for her to do that.’

‘But —’

‘Wendy, I’m not saying she’s well, or ready for discharge, nowhere near it. But she is well enough to be interviewed.’ Dr
Morgan leaned towards Wendy and her voice softened. ‘I wouldn’t agree to release her if I didn’t think she’d be safe, OK?’

Wendy nodded.

Tony looked around the room realising that the meeting was about to end and the police were about to get their hands on Anna.
This wasn’t OK at all. It was going too fast. He heard shoes scuffling on the ground as everyone shifted in their chairs to
stand up.

‘Wait!’ he said, trying to slow everything down. He’d tried to convince the police already that someone else was to blame,
but they hadn’t listened. He had to turn their attention away from her. He thought of the letter, still in the glove box of
his car, and felt the panic creep up into his throat. He had to convince them that she was sick, too sick to know what she
was doing. That’s what Dr Morgan and Wendy believed. Did he?

‘Listen, I’ve been thinking, and there are some things I’ve remembered, that might help, you know.’ He raked his fingers through
his hair. ‘There are a few things that make me even more sure that she’s been really ill … confused, that she didn’t know
what was happening.’

‘Tony …’ Scott held his hand up in the air to try to stop Tony from saying any more.

Hill leaned forward. ‘We’ve got your statements, Tony. Of course, if there’s anything else you’d like to tell us, we can do
that down at the station.’

But that would be later, wouldn’t it? That would be after they interviewed Anna; that might be too late. ‘If anyone’s guilty
here, it’s me. I am – was – Jack’s dad so I am just as responsible for anything that’s happened. More so, even, because I
wasn’t sick. So I’ll tell you everything, but only if you make sure that if anyone is charged or arrested or whatever, it’s
me, not her …’ Tony talked quickly now, turning from one detective to the other, trying to read their faces, to find the point
of weakness. There was always a good cop, wasn’t there, always one who had some compassion? But as Tony looked back and forth
between them, their faces didn’t change.

‘Tony,’ Hill said. ‘We do need you to tell us everything, but we can’t make a deal with you. I understand —’

‘You don’t understand anything!’ Tony clenched his hand into a fist and looked for something to hit, finding only his knee.
He saw Kaminsky stiffen and shift forward in his chair, so he took a deep breath and lowered his voice. ‘Listen. Take me.
Hold me responsible. I’ll do anything you want me to. But don’t … don’t blame Anna.’ His head dropped and his voice wavered.
He needed to convince them; they needed to listen to him. ‘I don’t know if Anna will survive this. It’ll kill her if you charge
her with … with this. It will just kill her. Please, please …’ He looked up and held his hands out. ‘It’s my fault, all my
fault. Arrest me.’ He hated to beg, but what else could he do? He sniffed, then wiped angrily at his face.

‘Tony.’ Wendy dragged her chair closer to his and put her arm around him. ‘We don’t know what’s going to happen – it’s just
an interview.’ She was crying too.

Scott cleared his throat and leaned forward. ‘Tony, listen to me. I’ll look after her, I promise.’

He looked at Scott’s face. The past weeks had seemed unreal, like a terrible dream, like someone else’s life, but the enormity
of what was about to happen hit him hard, right in the guts.

Jack was gone forever, and Tony was about to lose his wife too.

* * *

Anna heard footsteps approaching her door, and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and willed herself not to cry. Everything
was still so confusing. Her head was clearing, but every so often she began to think of terrible things, so terrible that
she shut them out immediately. She looked back down at the tattered magazine she’d been flicking through, not sure who she
was trying to fool. She could hear murmurs outside the door. Actual voices, she knew that now. Not those others; they had
faded away, although in some ways it had been easier when she wasn’t certain that what she heard was real or imagined.

The door opened and Dr Morgan came into her room.

‘Anna, the police are ready for you now,’ Dr Morgan said quietly. She sounded almost apologetic.

‘I’m ready.’

She stood up and smoothed down her jade silk dress. She had asked her mum to bring it in for her yesterday. The last time
she’d worn this dress was on her final day of work, but then the silk had billowed down over her pregnant belly. It hung limply
now. There was still a tiny grease spot above the waistband, a drop of oil that had dripped from an olive at her farewell
afternoon tea. She tucked her hair behind her ears; she had blow-dried it this morning, and put on some make-up. She thought
that maybe if she looked more like a professional than a patient, then maybe the police would see that she was a normal woman.
This – the hospital, the police – wasn’t her world.

She had been surprised to see Scott this morning. He had looked familiar, but it was only when he introduced himself that
she remembered him from uni. He’d given her hope: not only because she knew he was a good lawyer, but also because if Tony
had organised this, he must still care about her. Scott had explained what was going to happen and insisted that all she had
to do was tell the truth. That was easy: she couldn’t remember what had happened. But would the police believe her?

She picked up her cardigan, and walked towards Dr Morgan. Just outside the doorway, she saw the two policemen who had been
hovering around before, as well as Scott, her mum, and Tony.

‘Tony!’ Anna’s breathing quickened. It had only been a week or so since she’d seen him last, but his face was somehow thinner,
older. ‘You came! I didn’t think I’d see you.’

He nodded and gazed at her. For a moment, Anna felt as though it was just the two of them there, the way it had been before.
The way it was when they met, when they said their vows, when they read the Sunday papers in bed, and when they held their
little boy. She blinked; already the moment had passed. She was walking now, away from him, away from her mum, towards the
door. She turned her head so she could see him for just a moment longer. He stood there, watching. Anna wanted to run back
and grab him, but she
had to keep up with Scott and the police. She kept moving forward, away from Tony, and left him behind.

* * *

As the heavy security door of the unit slammed closed, Tony’s legs began trembling. Wendy clutched his hand and her fingernails
dug into him. He took his hand away; he didn’t want anyone clinging to him now. It should be Anna’s hand he was holding, her
he was supporting. What was he doing? That was his wife they were taking away, and he was standing here like an idiot. Why
didn’t he go with her? She had looked so small as she walked out. Tony thought he heard an engine start; Anna would be in
the car by now.

Dr Morgan put her hand on Tony’s arm; he jumped. ‘She’ll be OK,’ she said. ‘Your lawyer seemed good.’

Tony nodded.

‘They could be a few hours, but you’re welcome to wait here until they bring her back.’

‘Tony,’ Wendy said. ‘Do you want to wait?’

He shook his head. ‘No. Do you?’

‘I don’t mind, but I suppose she could be a while …’

‘Let’s go then.’

He regretted not saying anything to Anna, but he’d been scared that if he did, she would cry or ask more of him and, for now,
this was all he could manage. She needed to hold it together; even with Scott there she would need all her strength to cope
with the police interview. And part of him was relieved when she’d walked out. He could never say it out loud, but he wanted
the police to take Anna away and question her; maybe she would tell them what she refused to tell him. As much as he pitied
her and worried about her, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing Jack. And when he pictured his lifeless child lying still,
so still, he didn’t care if Anna was scared in an interview room. Jack was dead, and only she knew what had happened.

His face burned and the room around him blurred and swirled.