Burnington Gaol

F O R T Y - O N E | Adeline

"Here," Billy said, pushing open another door.

We looked inside at the large bed, its quilt laced and worn, and a dressing table with several bottles of perfume and makeup. The aunt's room, no doubt. I gave Billy a look.

"What? I didn't know." He grumbled.

We turned, looking at the last door, touched the handle.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Billy and I both flung around, the colour draining from our features. A middle-aged woman glared at us, and we both froze.

"Your Seth's aunt," I exclaimed.

"You fucking reporters. Get out of my house or I'll call the police."

"We're not reporters," Billy said quickly, eyes wide with panic.

"Then who are you?"

"Friends," I said. "We're friends of his – of Seth's. We heard he was missing and came to see it for ourselves."

"Well, it's true. Can you leave now?"

"We think we might know where he is." Billy blurted out.

I eyed him, unsure where he was going with this.

"Alright," she said, shifting her weight and crossing her arms. "Where is he then?"

"Well..." Billy trailed off.

"We don't know exactly where he is," I started. "But we think it might have something to do with Susie Dawson. Do you remember her?"

"That girl was nothing but trouble. I told him that the day he started dating her, but he never listens to me."

"Do you..." I paused. "Do you think he might've had something to do with her death?"

"Oh god, you really are reporters aren't you?"

"No, no. I swear." Billy promised.

"Get out before I call the police."

"Wait!"

"Please, ma'am. We just want to find Seth."

"No you don't. You just want somebody to blame. You all do."

"Please, just tell us. Do you know where he was that night?"

"I already told the police – "

"Please!" I cried. "We need to know. To find him."

The aunt paused, her hard eyes darting between us, weathered skin scrunched up.

"He was with me that night. I made him dinner, we sat down to eat, then we watched some television and went to bed late."

"And you're sure he never left the house?"

"We had a dog then. He barked whenever the front or back door opened, or even if someone tried to get out using a window. I would've heard him."

My lips thinned to a line. Another dead end.

"Thank you," I whispered, stepping past her. "We won't bother you again."

Slowly, I opened the front door. The reporters all shot up from their seats, ready with cameras and microphones, but they soon saw our faces and paid no attention. Billy and I hurried down the path and out onto the gloomy street.

"Did you hear that?" I asked. "What she said?"

"Seth was with her all night," he echoed. "She could be lying, you know."

"No. No, I don't think she was lying."

We both fell silent for a heartbeat, lost in thought.

"Another dead end," I whispered.

"We'll find something, Ad," Billy swore, slinging his arm around me. "We just have to find the right place to look."

"Don't you get it?" I snapped, pushing him away. "There are no more places to look. We've gone over those files a hundred times, talked to every person Susie spent time with. There's no one."

"We still have the blond hair."

"A blond male," I scoffed. "Even you said that was a far stretch."

"Well what are we supposed to do?" He asked. "We can't give up. They're going to kill him."

I paused, thinking it over. We'd talked to anyone and everyone who knew Susie Dawson. We'd been chasing ghosts across town, digging up bodies, getting shot, escaping fires, and in the end, it all led up to nothing. Not a single decent clue. I reached over and grabbed my brother's good hand, squeezing it tight.

"Come on," I said, pulling down the path.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"To say goodbye."

© A.G. Travers 2018