Susan and Mark climb off the boat and follow a path from the river that brings them up to their vehicle. They’re both mussy, yawning with tiredness. They barely speak until they reach the car. As they sit inside they agree it was a night to remember, a night of discovery of the river and of themselves.

  Chapter 17 – Truth – Day 28

  They drive back to Timber Creek in silence, too tired to talk. The night has sucked their vitality. With a night on their feet, and the buffeting river, their bodies are both hungry and exhausted. They need breakfast; their only food since yesterday morning has been sandwiches and a piece of brownie.

  “Let’s eat breakfast first, and then I’ll meet the company representative, pass on the data. After that we can drive towards Katherine a short way and find a place to roll out the swag, under a shady tree until lunch. We both need a good sleep.”

  Susan nods her agreement. She isn’t capable of much more than that.

  Mark orders an extra strong coffee with his meal to clear his head for his business dealings.

  Susan can’t push away an odd anxiousness as she eats her breakfast of eggs and toast. She can’t place the source of this as waves of tiredness sweep over her. “I’ll wait in the car while you meet the rep,” she says.

  As she climbs into the car it comes to her. She needs to check her messages, to see if Anne has replied. But she doesn’t want to; she’s so tired, and it all seems like too much effort.

  Fumbling around she finds her phone and switches it on. There’s barely a signal, so nothing can get through. She lays her head on the seat. As sleep comes she feels her phone slip from her and drop to the floor.

  She barely stirs when she hears Mark return and feels him place a pillow under her head and move her into a more comfortable position. She’s only vaguely aware that the car has started and they’re driving.

  Her mind half registers a phone ping as they drive away.

  Susan hears Mark yawn and feels the movement of the car slow to a halt. A shadow passes over her eyes. She hears Mark’s door open and close, and shuffling in the back. Then Mark is at her door. Susan feels strong arms lift her body from the seat and lay her down on the swag that he’s put out.

  She stretches out, aware of the soft comfort of Mark’s body next to hers. She cuddles in to him.

  It feels near midday when Susan properly opens her eyes. She lies for a minute looking at the green foliage above her, dreamy but waking, feeling refreshed. She notices they’re parked under a large shady tree in a green grassy area, which falls away down to the bank of a big river, probably the Victoria.

  Mark still breathes deeply beside her. She will let him sleep.

  Her mouth is dry, so she goes to the car for a drink. Seeing her door is part open she detours to close it.

  The shine of her phone on the floor of the cabin catches her eye. She bends to pick it up. As she touches a button the screen lights up. There’s one new message from Anne.

  Susan’s heart skips a beat, and fear and burning anxiety surge. She doesn’t want to know. She climbs into the car and closes the door, needing privacy even though Mark has shown no signs of waking. The message reads:

  Dear Suz,

  This FREAKS me, what I found:

  Those girls came to Australia but are missing.

  USA one came 2 years ago, last seen Airlee, Qld, 6 months later.

  UK one came last year, last seen Adelaide, SA, 1 month later.

  Both listed as missing, but not under current investigation

  Investigation summary –

  - Girls may have wanted to disappear

  - Both withdrew most of their cash before they left

  - Both announced they were going on a trip – never seen since left

  - Did not say where were going or with who

  - No current links between cases

  - Last contacts followed up, no useful information

  - Both girls seen meeting unknown man soon before last seen.

  - One friend thought man’s name Mark – no such person located

  - Parents are convinced of abduction or worse

  - Re Fiona Rodgers, that was her real name. But everyone called her Kate – her dead sister’s name from when a little girl – weird – and she looks a bit like you – double weird!

  This all makes me scared – Be Careful!!!

  Take extra care if you meet a Mark.

  Love Anne

  Susan rereads the message three times. Her hands shake; she is totally freaked. The pattern and name match.

  Who has she told where she’s going? Did she tell anyone about Mark?

  No and no!

  What is his real name, or even his real car registration?

  This is beyond stupid. She has to get away. She might disappear too.

  Her mind races; she needs a plan. Can she leave now while he still sleeps?

  She looks up. Mark’s face is right there at her window.

  Susan feels the blood drain from her face; her heart stops; her mind is struck numb with terror.

  He’s looking at her; he’s looking at the phone.

  She can’t move.

  Mark opens the door.

  He puts out a hand for the phone. It’s not a request.

  Susan’s hands shake, she pulls the phone away. Too slow.

  Mark grasps her hand, prises her fingers away from it. He takes it in his hand. He seems more puzzled than angry. But of course, he doesn’t know what she knows.

  He looks at the message from Anne, scrolls up and down it.

  She watches his face transform, first from puzzled to incredulous, then to something like rage, but far more chilling, and finally to something that looks like anguish or grief.

  She can’t take her eyes from his face, can’t look away.

  He stares, fixated, at the phone. He doesn’t look at her.

  Time passes. Finally, he lifts his head.

  Susan quails at his stare. Something incredibly dangerous lurks in the depths of his eyes. Seconds tick by. He just stares and stares and does not speak.

  At last a word comes. “Why?”

  She hears anguish in his voice but is too terrified to answer.

  “Why?” he repeats.

  Again, Susan can find no words.

  Mark’s temper snaps. “Why could you not leave it alone?” He says it roughly. “Why did you need to know so badly? You knew I didn’t want to tell you about the bad things in my past.” His voice catches. “You promised to stop asking, and now this!”

  Susan sits there mute; she tries to look down, anything to break the spell of his hurt eyes.

  Mark reaches towards her. Hands like vices grasp both her arms just below the shoulders and lift her from the car. He stands her on the ground, her back to the car. She wobbles; her legs do not work. She holds the car for support.

  Marks seems to struggle to master his rage. He pushes his hands to his sides, clenches and opens his fists, muscles corded with emotion. He looks at her face, his eyes boring in.

  “Look at me and tell me why?” Mark says between gritted teeth. “And how? Did you search my bags? Did you look through my papers? What?”

  His accusations hit like slaps, his anguish like punches.

  Maybe he’s right. Did she really need to know? Couldn’t she have let it be? Why her? Why now? Why him?

  In her final question she finds her answer. “Because I need to know; a man has captured me, heart, body and soul. I need to know who he is.”

  She pauses. “In answer to how, the passports. I found the passports. I didn’t set out to find them. I was looking for matches to light a fire. I found a metal box and opened it.” Susan’s words come quickly. “Four photos of beautiful girls. You had their passports. They’d come to Australia, but their passports had no exit stamps. What was I supposed to think?

  “Then the matter of who are you? There’s a Mark Butler, a Mark Brown, a Mark Brooks and a Mark Bennet. They all look like you, all have the same initials, all have matching numberplates and licenses. Which one is really you? Are any of them you? Are none of them?”

  She laughs bitterly. “Perhaps you’re Robert Redford and live in California? Perhaps you’re a freak with four name changes or a multi-personality disorder. Tell me. Who are you?”

  She doesn’t give him a chance to answer.

  “I tried to ask you, but you wouldn’t tell me. Instead you got so angry. But despite everything I’d found I couldn’t believe you were capable of this. No, not you, not the Mark I know, not the Mark I love. He’s no monster. But I had to know.” She gestures wildly to her phone, which is still in his hand. “That’s why I sent this text. I asked someone who’d actually give me answers.”

  Mark doesn’t respond. His chest heaves with feelings she can’t interpret.

  She drops her voice to a softer tone. “Is it true? Did you know these women? Did they come with you like I have? Did they lay with you just like I have? Did they give you their bodies like I have? I bet they trusted you, the same way I thought I could. And then what, one day, you decided you’d had had your fill? You got bored? When you finished with them, did you finish their lives as well? What’s wrong with saying goodbye? Couldn’t you have let them go? Or did they know something the world couldn’t know, just like I now do?

  “Did you kill them out of convenience? Or for excitement, the thrill of the hunt? Did you shoot them for sport? Did you tie them up and watch them die? Did you do it with a smile?”

  There’s no going back now. She can’t believe the tidal wave of rage burning in her veins. Her mind sees her anger flaming all around her, her hatred for who he is and what he’s done overtakes her reason. His betrayal is overwhelming.

  “Are you just a murderer, or a sadistic rapist pig as well?” she spits.

  Incredulity sweeps his face along with simple blind rage.

  He draws back his arm.

  Susan knows he will kill her.

  A fist, closed tight, knuckles white, aims straight at her face.

  She knows she should move but is rooted in space.

  A death wish is present to die in this place.

  The fist halts, a bare inch from her face.

  Her calm, graceful embracing of her end has stopped him.

  Now they both stand staring at each other.

  Susan’s will to defy him is undiminished.

  Her anger is still flaming. She spits in his face.

  Outside her body, she sees his other arm swing, palm open.

  The blow hits her cheek, knocks her sideways. With hands at her sides she hits the dirt with her face. Leaves fill her mouth.

  She lies there for a moment, stunned.

  Her anger ebbs away and fear takes its place.

  She rises to her knees, facing away from him. She tastes blood in her mouth. She looks back to the car.

  Mark is turned away from her. He opens the car door and searches for something.

  Susan tries to stand and shuffle away. She stumbles. The numbness in her head makes her brain foggy.

  Mark grasps her hands from behind. He forces something around her wrists, pulls her backwards and upwards with rough hands. A hand grasps her hair and pulls, the back of her head is against his chest.

  He holds a roll of heavy silver tape in one hand. With his teeth he pulls back the end and rips off a portion. He rolls it over her mouth and around her lips and chin, leaving only her nostrils exposed.

  “That will stop that filthy mouth of yours,” he spits.

  Next, he takes a rope and ties her legs together; she knows she will fall flat if she tries to run.

  Then he lifts her bodily into the passenger side of the car and shoves her onto the seat, with her hands jammed behind her back. He winds both windows down slightly, then closes and locks each car door.

  She looks out to see what he’s doing.

  He seems uncertain what to do now; he leans with his head against the driver’s side door. It’s the first time she’s seen him look dejected and uncertain, as if confused by the situation he’s found himself in.

  Despite her anger and fear, she still feels pity and tenderness towards him. She senses he’s in uncharted waters. It’s as if, before, whenever he was threatened, he hit out and responded to threats with aggression. But now he needs another way forward.

  There’s nothing in how he’s acted or what he’s said that tells her this. But it’s the way she makes sense of the little pieces about him that she sees. Like an insight from when the first pieces of a jigsaw start to take a defined shape.

  Still, she must find a way to get far away from him.

  She doesn’t think he’ll try and harm her here, so close to where people have seen them this morning. She figures first he’ll drive somewhere else. That’s when she’ll look for an opportunity to escape. She has no plan yet but must wait to see what chance arises and take it.

  After a minute of standing there, Mark seems to form a decision and moves away. She can half see him in her side mirror as he rolls the swag up. Then she sees him carrying it and she hears and feels, rather than sees, as he loads it in the back.

  After this she cannot hear or see him anymore. She doesn’t know if he’s moved away or is just sitting quietly, somewhere out of sight. For now, there’s is nothing she can do except wait and see what happens.

  Chapter 18 – Captivity, Searching to Escape – Day 28

  Being tied up and gagged causes an overwhelming rising panic. Susan struggles to breathe; she feels she will suffocate. She wants to retch but is scared she’ll choke on her vomit. Then her mind reasserts control and she calms herself. If she takes slow steady breaths through her nose she is fine.

  Sitting squashed into the seat, barely able to move, time passes very slowly. She tries to count in her head, but it’s hard to think straight and she keeps losing track. She focuses on the dashboard clock. She doesn’t know why it comforts her to have a sense of the time, but it does; it gives her a feeling of connection to a wider reality.

  As her panic abates she begins to discover how utterly uncomfortable she is. Her face and lip, where Mark hit her, are numb. But feeling is returning, a tingling sting at first, which turns into sharp pain, combined with a headache that throbs from the force of the blow. The way he’s taped her mouth shut pushes her cut lip into her teeth, and the tape has hard edges that dig into her face. Together it’s like her face is on fire.

  What sort of bastard is Mark to treat her like this? Then it comes to her, in an almost funny way, that if this is the worst she has to endure, it’s not that bad. She’s heard the stories if others who have experienced far worse.

  She’s never thought about real prisoners and torture victims before; they endure things much worse for weeks or months on end. Susan can’t comprehend that scale of pain, after how long these few minutes feel. To fully understand this or worse going on for that long is beyond her.

  She tries to wiggle around and reposition herself, but there’s no comfortable way to sit. With her hands locked behind her she is pushed forward in the seat, a posture causing her back and shoulders to ache. Her hands and wrists are hurting too, jammed against the seat, the sharp edges of the cuffs poking into them.

  The air coming into the cabin from the cracked window means she won’t suffocate or get too hot but, with the gag, she is unable to shout out. Mark clearly knows what he’s doing, restraining her like this. He must have practised this sort of thing before. She can’t reach the door locks with her hands behind her and, with her feet tied, it’s almost impossible to move around the cabin sufficiently to get at the door handle. Maybe a contortionist could do something, but it’s beyond her. Still, she tries in desperate hope.

  After a while it becomes clear it’s pointless to waste fruitless energy. She’s better served saving her strength until a more promising situation arises. She’ll only exhaust herself if she struggles too much. Mark wouldn’t go to this much trouble to confine her if he planned to kill her right now.

  She tries to figure out what Mark is likely to do and what her realistic options are. It’s not likely he’ll let her go; she knows far too much, and she has told him so.

  She knows at least four of his identities. She has good grounds to believe he’s done something to four other women. If she’s honest with herself, she thinks he’s killed them. The logical extension of this is that Susan is destined to become his next victim. Yet it seems too abstract to grasp that somehow her existence will just cease.

  She pushes away her fear so she can try to understand Mark, make some sense of what he might plan for her demise. A truly chilling thought strikes her. It comes like a jolt of insight, the picture in her mind now turning her insides to jelly.

  She knows what he’ll do. He needs her body to disappear.

  If it’s found it will prove she is more than just missing. It will prove she’s dead. And it will yield evidence that will connect her to Mark. His DNA covers and embeds her.

  He has a deep, abiding love of crocodiles and a seeming fascination with watching them kill things. She saw it last night with the pig, and then he explained it further when he told her of his crocodile brother.

  Susan shudders, revolted. She doesn’t want to acknowledge her mind’s picture.

  But it makes sense; he’ll take her to that place where he knows of an enormous crocodile, somewhere on the Mary River, out near Kakadu. He talked of gifting a pig. It will be her. Her body will fill the belly of this crocodile. She will disappear.

  None of her family or friends know where she’s travelling or who with. She told her cousins she was going to Alice Springs. But she misled them about her plans from there, indicated she’d catch a bus on. She made no mention of meeting anyone.

  If she fails to turn up for her return flight home, it won’t be clear for a while that she’s really vanished. People will think it’s just as likely she’s gone another way, perhaps met someone and travelled to another destination, maybe even chosen to vanish.