Dozens of reporters and cameramen form an audience for the Chief Commissioner, Detective Earl and the parents of the little boy whose body had been found. They all sit side by side along a table decorated with microphones. The mother of the murdered boy clutches possessively to the baby in her arms, while the father holds a photo frame with a picture of their son. The couple is a long way from the evening spent playing at the park near their house where Heath watched the father chasing his son around on that warm evening not long ago.
In front of the long table sit reporters and behind them is a wall of cameras, all there in the hope of getting some sound bite or clip they can use to sell air time. The sounds of the clicking of photographs for the papers and internet news sites project out through the room while the Chief Commissioner speaks of heartbreaking loss and the hard work his detectives are putting in. They’ve been gathered for an hour already. He fields accusations that his people aren't working hard enough but reassures his audience that these things take time and every available resource is on top of it.
While the reporters turn their attention to the parents and request the most intimate details of their experience, Max stands off to the side, behind a pillar, and watches without listening. He’s stupid for even being here but he is anyway. Carl quietly steps up beside him and says, “You’re brave.”
Max looks at him from the corner of his eye but doesn’t respond so Carl continues, “Standing so close to the media. Considering who you are and who you look like.”
Max still gives nothing but Carl tries again, “I can't stand all this media stuff.”
Max barely turns and only offers a slightly guttural, “Mmmm,” in reply.
Carl isn't dissuaded, “I can see how it's sometimes helpful but only when we have control of it, you get me? We have to keep control over these vultures.” He pauses to see if he's winning Max over to the conversation. He's not, but continues, “All they want is to sell advertising space. My dad worked in advertising before he passed away. Thirty years. Mum thinks that's what killed him.” Carl thinks for a moment, “Could have been the cancer.”
Back in front of the gathered media the Chief Commissioner calls a stop to the conference. He leads the bewildered and heartbroken parents out of the room to the soundtrack of loudly spoken questions which go unanswered.
The Chief Commissioner walks with his entourage through back corridors heading to his car but is waylaid by a reporter. He sees her coming. She's pretty, in her mid-thirties and the dark grey pants suit tells even the casual observer she’s all about business. She has determination in her walk and burning eyes.
The Chief Commissioner smiles at the reporter, “Jennifer. How are you?”
Jennifer doesn't return the smile, “Annoyed. You ignored me during the press conference. I had questions.”
“You and everyone else. Why do you think I ignored you specifically?”
“Because you know I can spot you lying from a mile away.”
“Lying! I never lied.”
“You weren’t telling the full story though.”
“That’s not lying.”
Jennifer makes a show of holding up a voice recording device.
“So, the full story is?”
“Is that the type of questioning they taught you at university?”
“You would know. You’re tip-toeing around something.”
“I’m the Chief Commissioner. If I’m not tip-toeing I’m not doing my job. Bear in mind something important my dear, this isn't a show. These are real victims with real families who are really hurting and who may not want every detail displayed for the world to gawk at. You know the boy is a victim of Heath Myer and that’s all you need.”
“Give me something. What about his brother? The detective?”
They stop walking and the Chief Commissioner looks at Jennifer's big determined eyes, he smiles.
“I’ll email you something. But only if you promise to have dinner with your mother and me tonight.”