My Brother's Killer

  Chapter 31

  The sun had set an hour ago and Max is only just walking through the door to his apartment. After Alan’s call on sighting Heath hours earlier, the school and surrounding street were flooded with marked and unmarked police searching behind every tree and bush. The school had been locked down until every corner had been cleared. By which time panicked parents had flooded the parking lot and street in a desperate attempt to get to their children. The students had been cleared one classroom at a time in an attempt to control movement of people.

  They didn’t find him.

  Before the police arrived Max had left to keep from getting mistaken for his brother. He knew any cop would put him on the ground and cuff him at the end of a pistol before listening to who he was.

  After getting away from Alan’s house after the family had driven off, the rest of his day was spent driving around regretting the choices that got him to where he is now. Not normally one to wallow in self-pity he just can’t help it this time. He drove past the house he lived in as a child - his parents had moved not long after Heath disappeared - and then to the school he attended with his brother.

  Now he enters his home as quietly as possible to delay the inevitable show down with an angry wife whose multiple calls over the last two hours went unanswered. Most of the lights in the apartment are off which makes the glow from the TV even brighter to the point of lighting the lounge room, but there’s no sound. He walks along the hall and looks in the kitchen to see a pile of newly washed dishes left beside the sink to dry. Tahlia normally only washes up by hand when she’s angry and trying to distract herself.

  Further along, the dining table is set for two. Candles still sit in pride of place at the centre. Max pauses and looks over the table. Wine glasses. Candles. The good cutlery and plates. Their meals aren't usually so nice. What’s going on?

  It dawns on Max in an instant and his body is shot through with panic. He whispers to himself, “Oh no.”

  Wedding anniversary.

  If he thought he felt bad about what he did to Alan, he’s now in a whole new place. He feels sick. In spite of everything else, he's killing himself for forgetting this. He's mentally backtracking to find a spot where he should have been able to stop and remember.

  Alan going into hiding with his confused and panicking family?

  The Commissioner threatening to fire him and have him charged; rightly too?

  Revealing to everyone Heath had been in touch with him?

  Trying to look after his sister?

  Speaking to Heath earlier?

  Everything had come together to form a personal perfect storm. An endless stream of stress to steal away the chance to think of his wife.

  Moving into the lounge room, he finds Tahlia asleep on the couch and watches her. She has an empty wine glass on the floor beside her. Next to it, a pile of tear soaked tissues covers her phone. She stirs at the sensation of being watched and sees her husband in the flickering glow of the TV. She fights back a new stream of tears as she tucks her feet up and away from where Max stands.

  “I'm so sorry,” is all he mutters.

  A tear runs down Tahlia’s face but she wipes it away and stands in protest. She turns and leaves the room, heading to their bedroom but Max follows her. He’s lost. He wants to say something that will fix it all but he doesn't know what. Walking after her, he just repeats, “Honey,” “Baby,” “Tahlia,” over and over as though it will make a difference. The more he talks the more desperate his voice becomes.

  Tahlia makes it to their bedroom and attempts to close the door but Max catches it and holds it open. She tries pushing against him but he won't give. Cornered, she stops pushing and stands defiant, no tears. Max begs, “Please, let me talk.” His wife stays silent while looking up at him, waiting for him to try his best. He can't think, he's panicking, “I'm so sorry.”

  Tahlia opens her mouth slightly and Max waits. He hears, “I’ve loved you. I’ve cooked for you. Washed your clothes. Cleaned your home.” She sounds as though she's rehearsed this in her head but she can't hide the quiver in her voice as she fights the urge to cry. “But you don’t care about me. You don’t talk to me. You don’t touch me or spend time with me. You won’t give me children. You spend hours working and when you’re home you either ignore me or you’re mean to me. You care more about your stupid brother than me. I deserve better than this. I’ll leave if you...” She chokes as tears now fall freely from her eyes, “Why don’t you love me?”

  She sees a tear in her husband’s eye as he stands helplessly searching for the words to say, “I do love you. I always have.” Max lets his hand fall from the bedroom door and Tahlia takes the opportunity to close it. Not hard, not too fast for Max to notice or respond. She just closes it and Max watches until the door fits perfectly into its frame with a click.

  The few centimetres of wood between them may as well put them on different planets.