Our Father, who art in heaven
The police station where Caleb Brown worked was only two kilometres from his home in Dirrie, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of taking the short journey on a day he didn’t have work. He knew the route well enough to disconnect while driving, paying little attention to the oak trees that lined the nature strips and the bare pedestrian crossing that had become defunct when the traffic lights were installed twenty meters away, where he would always automatically slow down, put on the sirens then speed through, just in case the lights were red.
Today, however, he was going to the station to fulfil his other job – being a father.
Pushing open the glass doors he waved hello to Marg, the elderly woman who acted as receptionist when she had become too old to serve in the line of duty, who was on the phone saying ‘car accident’ and ‘negligent’ and ‘protesters’. He sighed as he continued inside. Usually Caleb would show more enthusiasm as he was a man honestly excited by his work. He even enjoyed the paper work others found tedious, as it was all part of the process of bringing criminals to justice. Victoria Police’s badge said Uphold the Right, and Caleb Brown did so with immense pride. As a Senior Sergeant he had originally felt it was his job to get the younger Constables as thrilled about their job as he was, because who was more respected than the police? Caleb had left high school and joined the force straight away, looking for that level of respect and pride that was held by law enforcers, but in recent years, recent weeks even, that had gone downhill in Dirrie. His own daughter had become one of the revellers fighting against him.
Walking on through to the cells that were used for those waiting to be picked up on bail, he sighed. His own daughter. What was to become of her if she continued on this road?
And what was to become of his station if the protests continued? Caleb did understand the civilian’s frustration. After all, six murders in three weeks was a lot and they should be doing more about it. But they were at a dead end; waiting for more Investigators to turn up to help as there were no clues. Whoever was committing these crimes knew the system, and that was all that they had been able to come up with. That wasn’t a very comforting message to tell the public though, but they couldn’t keep things more hush hush if they tried.
Caleb was so completely trapped in his own thoughts, he barely noticed his friend of twenty years and partner Peter. He didn’t notice his daughter Mary being released into his custody, whilst being told “I’m sorry Caleb, but at least you know the drill”. He didn’t even register getting into the car with Mary ranting about something or other as usual or the short drive home again. Instead he was thinking about the murders.
There was something terrifying about them, as though the murderer knew how to search a crime scene. Perhaps not well enough though, and the experts would catch him, Caleb thought. They’d never failed yet.
Turning off the engine, grabbing his keys and opening the door to his small weatherboard house, Caleb again sighed before walking into the lounge room where he knew to expect his extremely pregnant wife Ruth helping their other daughter Esther with her homework.
“Good morning sweetie,” he said, kissing Ruth first on the head and then on her swollen belly.
“Good morning hon,” Ruth replied absently, looking at Mary instead. Turning to face her, Ruth redirected herself. “And what did you do this time Missy-M?” she said, using Mary’s childhood nickname.
“Nothing mum,” Mary responded apathetically.
Ruth sighed. “Mary...”
“Fine,” Mary raised her voice. “I was fucking protesting, again, even though I shouldn’t have been but who gives a flying fuck? Apparently not dad or any of those other bloody pigs who don’t seem to care that people are being murdered!”
“Young lady, I don’t care what you think, your dad is doing the best he can-”
“If he was doing his best people would still be alive!”
Leaving them to their argument, Caleb walked upstairs, passing the family pictures that lined the stairwell of their incomplete family. There was his lovely wife, Ruth, and their two daughters Mary and Esther. Though he and Ruth had been married sixteen years soon, Mary was seventeen. She had been a lucky mistake from two foolish, sacrilegious people and a blessing from God to see that they would change their ways. Ruth hadn’t wanted to marry while she was pregnant though so that Mary wouldn’t be a bastard child, so they waited until she had lost the weight as she was slightly vain in some respects, and married the following year. Their soon to be middle child, Esther, now in late primary school, had been planned from the beginning. Both Ruth and Caleb, although they loved their eldest daughter, felt their family was incomplete without a baby boy. Even though Esther wasn’t what they had prayed for they loved her all the same, but eight months ago to be precise had finally conceived the son they knew would fill up their family.
Walking into the ensuite and washing his face, Caleb noticed he was getting older. There were slight wrinkles around his eyes and forehead, and there were a few grey hairs amid his auburn locks. He shouldn’t have been old enough for that, he thought to himself, but he did have a high stress job. Not at the force, but keeping Mary out of trouble. Both of his daughters were fiery red heads like he had been at their age and with their mother’s beautiful blue eyes, so clear that you swore you saw the ocean in them. Neither had inherited her gorgeous wavy brown hair, nor her usually calm temperament. Mary was quite ferocious while her younger sister was extremely intelligent and inquisitive. It was an interesting and at times difficult combination, and Caleb often wondered whether they were ready for another child in the mix. It was too late to wonder though.
The cool water on his face was refreshing enough to prepare him to go downstairs and rejoin the quarrel, but he was pleasantly surprised to see it was over. Mary was in her room and Ruth was ready for him to drive her to her ultrasound that afternoon. Peace.
At the surgery that afternoon the line was exceptionally long. Dirrie was a small town but was quite enclosed, needing little resources from outside suburbs. This, however, meant that if anything were to happen in Dirrie that supplies of anything were scarce. There were only a few medical offices in the area, and the one that the Brown family visited lately as it was the only one with a radiology department; was quite full. Caleb presumed it had something to do with Marg’s call this morning, either owing to the car accident or the protesters. They could wait however as it was not an emergency visit; just to check that the placenta wasn’t blocking the cervix as there was worry over that when Ruth was 30 weeks pregnant.
Sitting in the waiting room, Ruth was shaking.
“Sweetie,” Caleb sighed, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just worried about our little boy. What if he doesn’t make it?”
Silence loomed over them, neither of them knowing what to say. The wait was excruciating, with their appointment pushed back over an hour as people were rushed in from the apparently packed hospital one suburb over, until, finally –
“Mr and Mrs. Brown? We’re ready for you now.”
Dropping Ruth home, their heart’s relieved by hearing that it was all fine but to still keep an eye on things and for Ruth to have plenty of bed rest, Caleb left her to rest and went to work. Esther would be at school, as was Mary hopefully.
The station had calmed down since the morning’s car accident and the protesters, leaving little more than filing and paper work to do in relation to those incidents. On the way to his desk Caleb poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down, but was not sorting files for long before Peter approached his desk.
“Hey mate,” said Peter, completely disrespectful for the station but getting away with it as usual.
“Hey Peter. What’s up?”
“We’ve got a call out. You’ll want to come along on this. Nothing big, though.”
“What is it?” Caleb asked hesitantly.
“5’7” red head young female, with an approximately 6’1” tattooed boy loitering.”
“Oh for fucks sake,” Caleb exclaimed. “Can you come with me on this one? I’m not sure I can restrain myself from tearing her apart if it’s Mary again.”
Peter looked apologetic. “Already sorted out. Let’s go.”
Lots of the local kids from St. Aloysius bunked off school at Swan Hill. It was popular for several reasons, one was that there was a guy who sold cigarettes without need for an I.D., and also it was close enough that the kids could walk but hidden enough to hide if spotted by someone going to call the school, or worse, the cops if they were making a scene.
This day a riot was going on at Swan Hill, lead by the fiery Mary and her boyfriend of two months Terah. Terah was two years older than Mary, but had only been one year ahead of her at school before he graduated the year before. Terah was a singer and guitarist that was just about to hit the big time according to only himself and, unfortunately for her parents, Mary. As punk as he looked Terah actually sang country and folk songs that he wrote himself, was a peace-loving reveller (another of his own token phrases he’d coined to describe himself as for when he hit it big) and smoked like a chimney. Since Terah had been in the picture Mary had gone completely off the rails, joining him in smoking, protesting, and had become unruly at home and school. Suffice to say Caleb was not Terah’s no.1 fan.
Approaching Swan Hill with the siren’s off small groups of kids scattered. Peter had a theory on teenagers in trouble. Those who were facing a first offence were usually bolting away to try and avoid getting into that scene. The ones who had been in trouble a few times were pretty cavalier about it, giving the officer’s a fair bit of cheek before pleading to not get in trouble. Then there was the ‘Terah type’, which now included Mary, who just didn’t care.
By the time Caleb and Peter approached the top of the hill, switching from car to running on foot as they got closer, only a small group of about half a dozen remained, and the other two dozen or so long gone and forgotten about.
“Mary!” Caleb yelled. “Get down here now. You too Terah!”
Whispering, Peter asked “Are you sure you don’t want me to handle those two?”
Caleb shook his head. “Let me. You take the rest.”
Slowing to a walk Caleb approached his daughter. “In the car. Now. No questions asked. Same to you Terah. And if you don’t cooperate I will get the cuffs out.”
With hunched shoulders both Mary and Terah put themselves in the back seat, Caleb in the passenger’s side and not long after Peter joined them in the driver’s seat, explaining he gave the others a warning.
“So we get a warning too?” Mary asked.
“You get worse than a warning Missy-M, you get to go explain to your bed-ridden mother what you did today. And Terah, if I see you within 20ft of the house I will take you in. Got it?”
“Got it,” they replied in unison.
Another silent car ride in his work car for Caleb and Mary that day was more than uncomfortable for them both, but Caleb was grateful that Peter was driving. He didn’t feel up to doing much, and planned to ask to go home early when he arrived back at the station. Instead of being in the moment, which was crucial for his job, Caleb was once again stuck in his thoughts. Mary was becoming such a difficult girl, and Ruth wasn’t well. This, again, left Esther in the shadows of the family, just like he had been.
Enough of this, he thought, internally shaking his head. This is ridiculous. You’re stressed but pull yourself together. You’re no use to anyone if you’re losing the plot, especially not Ruth and in her state she needs you right now.
Yes, he’d get the rest of his shift covered and take Mary home.
