Free Disappear by Iain Edward Henn Page A

Trish’s knee, causing her to lose her sense of balance. Her hands went to her throat now in a vain attempt to loosen the garrotte, but the thin steely band was imbedded in the skin, blood seeping from the gash.
    The jogger pushed her to the ground and straddled her from behind. He released the tension on the wire slightly. He knew he was playing with fire - after all, this one had guts - but he wanted to play. He deserved to prolong his pleasure after waiting almost two decades.
    Trish was weak, disorientated and barely breathing. She felt the loosening of the wire and somewhere, in her mind, came a flash of understanding, a ray of hope. Got to fight this, a voice screamed inside her head. Got to … She tried to push herself up again, using her knees while simultaneously raising her hands to her throat. Her assailant snapped the wire tight once more and pushed his knee into the small of her back, forcing her further toward the ground.
    Now she began to writhe, a curious gurgling, whining sound escaping her lips as her body jerked in a series of spasms. They were violent, desperate movements. Then they stopped, her body limp.
    The jogger’s excitement was at fever pitch, his own breath coming in short, deep gasps. Still straddling the corpse of his victim, he felt as though he was going to explode. He whipped his head about. The reserve was empty, as it had been on the previous two mornings he’d come to survey the scene. It was early, little chance of anyone happening by.
    He pulled the girl’s shorts down, ripped her panties feverishly with his bare hands and thrust himself roughly into her. He shivered with the sweet sensation of relief as the morning light strengthened, streaming through the crossbeams of the branches in spidery patterns.

EIGHT
     
    Todd Lachlan stepped from the car and waved as his best friend, Mark Harris, and Mark’s father drove away in their brand new Holden.
    It was late – eight-thirty-five, almost his bedtime. The air was balmy, the first real taste of spring. He bounded up the front steps and through the front door of the modest brick and fibro home.
    His mother, Marcia, was vacuuming the lounge room. She smiled and called out to him over the roar of the appliance, ‘How was soccer tonight, love?’
    ‘Soccer
practice
Mum.’ Todd shrugged, walking into the kitchen. ‘Fine, I guess.’ A bright, energetic ten-year old, he had an impish grin and a mess of curly brown hair.
    ‘I’ll be finished here in a minute,’ Marcia called after him.
    Todd poured a glass of coke and sloshed it down. Just a couple of days to the weekend and this one he spent with his father. It seemed longer than almost two weeks since the last one and he was longing to spend time with his dad.
    The drone of the vacuum cleaner stopped and Marcia Lachlan came into the kitchen. ‘I’ve a thirsty little man here, have I?’
    ‘Mmm.’ Todd took another mouthful.
    ‘Bedtime,’ Marcia said, indicating the wall clock.
    ‘Uh huh.’ Todd grimaced and placed his empty cup on the counter top. His mother placed her arms around his shoulders and they went into his bedroom.
    ‘I’ve got some news, good and bad,’ Marcia said.
    Todd was curious. ‘Yeah?’ He pulled his soccer shirt off over his head.
    ‘Your Grandpa is quite ill. He’s in hospital with bronchial pneumonia.’
    ‘What’s that, Mum?’
    ‘It’s a serious infection in the chest, love. A bit like the flu, but much worse. That’s the bad news. Anyway, we’re going to Brisbane to visit him. We may be there for a week or so. That’s kind’a the good news, because you get a trip away and a few days off school.’
    ‘When?’
    ‘We’re going to fly up tomorrow, darling.’
    Alarm bells rang in Todd’s head. ‘Tomorrow! But, Mum, that means I won’t be here for the weekend. I’ll miss seeing Dad.’
    ‘I know, dear. I know how disappointed you must be, but sometimes these things just can’t be helped.’
    ‘Mum, I don’t want to miss