"Hi, Richard." Glen raised his hand. "Thought I'd come and give you an update."

"Come in. Patricia's at the shops." Richard opened his palm to indicate Glen should come inside. "Would you like a coffee? I think I'm going to need one."

"Thanks. I missed lunch. A coffee would be great." Glen Pavardy followed Richard along the hall and into the kitchen. He sat at the bench while Richard filled the kettle and scooped teaspoons of instant coffee into some cups.

"Sugar?"

"Three."

Richard grinned. "Sweet tooth?"

"Just in coffee. I've got in the habit because the stuff we have to drink at work tastes like shit. A lot of sugar disguises the fact it's recycled piss."

Both men chuckled. With the coffee made they sat at the kitchen table. Glen wasn't sure where to start, so he did his usual trick of jumping right in.

"Truth is, Richard, we haven't made much headway. The best we've got is a set of unidentified fingerprints." He grimaced. "They belong to someone and will appear on the system one day." He peered at his coffee and said, "I don't know how to say this, Richard but, I haven't got a good feeling about Beau's disappearance. He mixed with some shady people and he's a drug taker."

"Was."

"Okay. Was a drug taker." Glen took a mouthful of his coffee. "This is good."

"Moccona. Patricia's favourite." The two men's eyes met across the table.

"Richard, I'm not going to beat around."

"Appreciate it."

"Beau's phone, Medicare card, bank accounts, credit cards or anything that carries his identification haven't been used in the six months he's been missing. I gotta be honest. It's not a good sign."

Richard slid his mug in a circle on the table and sighed. "He could have money on him."

"He could." Glen cocked his head. "But, enough to live on for six months?"

"You said a big withdrawal was taken out of his bank account. I'd say he's living on that."

This time Glen sighed. "That could be what's happened but, ten grand isn't much in the scheme of things. If he's hiding somewhere he'd have to pay rent, buy food and need a car. We've been to all his known friends and associates. Not one person has seen or heard from him." Glen took another breath. "The reality is six months is a long time, Richard. A long time to not use anything that identifies you."

"What about false documents?"

"Yes, he could have but they're never perfect."

"So, you're saying he's dead?"

"I think we need to consider the possibility. You need to prepare yourselves for that outcome. I've gone through all the evidence. Beau's drug addiction, his involvement in a fighting syndicate, the characters associated with that same group, an abandoned car, blood splattered on an isolated road. Drag marks with signs of a struggle and a reasonable amount of cash missing to suspect he paid someone off for something. And, as I said none of his ID has been used." Glen tapped his fingertips together and looked at Beau Hawkins' father. The man looked tired. Older. "I'm sorry, Richard, if we add it up, it doesn't total an even number."

Richard ran his hands down his face. "What am I going to tell Patricia? Gone like that." He snapped his fingers and covered his mouth as if saying the words were taboo.

"Don't tell her anything yet. None of it is concrete but I think you should prepare her for the possible worst."

Richard nodded again. He pulled his hands away from his mouth as he gasped, "Okay."

Glen shuffled. His coffee was untouched. It didn't seem right to drink it somehow. "I'm sorry I don't have anything positive to tell you. I wish I had. I wanted to let you know where I was at. We check each week to make sure his ID hasn't been used. We're running cold on this one. Someone will come forward. There's always someone who knows something or finds something." Glen felt he was babbling. He stood and said, "I'm sorry, Richard. Thanks for the coffee."

Richard stayed where he was. He nodded a farewell and let Glen find his way out. When he heard the door close, he buried his face in his hands.

Josh, his youngest son, found him sitting at the table with his face hidden, his body shuddering. There was nothing the son could say to the father. He sat beside him, wrapped his arms around his shoulders and let the man he admired the most in the world express his grief.

A medicare card is a green plastic card, the same size as a credit card, issued to Australian citizens. The card is numbered and is required to receive rebates on medical expenses such as medication, hospital and doctor treatment. The cards are issued by the government and can be applied for from the age of fifteen.  It can also be used as part of proving a person's identity.  

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