Glen and Sean stopped in front of an average suburban home. The lawn was exceptional, green and flawless. Sean bent and touched it. He grinned and said, "Had to make sure it's real."

Glen frowned, jerked his head and continued along the path.

There was a bell ringer beside the door, Sean pressed the button. Footsteps could be heard. A woman's voice called, "Just a minute!"

She opened the door with one hand. Glen noticed an apron in her other. Old fashioned. Not many women wore aprons nowadays, at least not in his circle.

"Mrs Hawkins?"

"Yes...?" She looked at him with wary eyes.

"Good morning. I'm Chief Detective Glen Pavardy. This is my partner Detective Sean Carter." Glen flashed his badge; Sean did the same. The woman's olive complexion did a ghost act. Shit, he hated this part of the job. Her eyes moved from his face to Sean's.

Her hands clutched and twisted the apron into a ball. "It's about Beau, isn't it?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Patricia swallowed hard. Her breath caught in her throat. She somehow found enough air to call over her shoulder, "Richard! Richard, it's the police!"

"What's that?"

She gasped again and turned to face her husband. "It's the police. About Beau."

The tall fair man remained stoic. He put his arm around his wife's shoulders and held his hand to Glen. "Richard Hawkins. This is my wife, Patricia."

Glen did the introductions again, flashed his badge and shook Richard's hand.

"We're here about Beau Hawkins. He is your son?"

"Yes. Please come in."

They followed Richard into the lounge. The inside of the house mimicked the outside, as neat as a military bed. The couple sat. Richard indicated that the two officers did the same.

Once they were settled, Glen rested his hands on his knees and said, "You reported your son missing a week ago, but our notes say you think he's been gone for three weeks."

"Yes. He told us he was going to Victor Harbour for two weeks to see a girl. When he didn't come back, we waited a few days longer. We rang him, but it went to message. After a few tries, a recorded voice said the phone was turned off or out of service. We held off for a few days because we didn't want to invade his privacy." Richard shrugged, smiled at his wife then added, "Beau hasn't had a girl in his life for a long while, so we thought it was wonderful and well..." He sighed and continued, "We told another officer all this, but we haven't heard any real news. The station has rung a couple of times. The woman said, the investigation was in its initial stages and detectives were working on it. She said we would be contacted as soon as they found something." He looked toward his wife and then back at Glen. "We were going into the station to try and speak to someone in more detail because no one had come to see us."

"Detective Carter and I have been assigned this case," Glen said. "I assure you we've started our search and will do everything to find your son." He cocked his head and lifted one side of his mouth in a sorrowful grin. "Time and lack of manpower is our undoing, Mr Hawkins. I understand this wait must have caused you and your family a lot of anxiety. I hope you can forgive us, sir."

"Yes, yes. I understand." Richard nodded. He looked from one officer to the other. "It's Richard. Please, call me Richard."

Glen said, "I'll get straight to it, Richard. We've found what we think is your son's car. It was abandoned out on Delaney Road." He pulled a photograph from his inside coat pocket. "Is this Beau's car?"

Richard frowned, peered at the officer, and then the photo. "Yes. That's his car." He handed the photo to Glen and said, "Delaney Road is in the middle of nowhere and in the complete opposite direction of Victor Harbour."

"It is." Glen paused. "Do you know the name of this girl he was meeting?"

"No. We don't know anything about her." Richard stared at his hands. "We didn't want to pry. We wanted to give him space to show that we trusted him."

Trusted him? Glen waited to see if Richard would elaborate on that choice of phrase. When he didn't, Glen decided he'd come back to it later.

"Is there any reason Beau would have been out on Delaney Road?"

"No." Richard's eyes crinkled in confusion. "Unless he had a job out there, but he said he was meeting this girl." He shook his head. "No. I don't know why he'd have any reason to be out that way." Richard looked at his wife in question. "Did he have any jobs booked that would take him there?"

She shook her head, her brown eyes moist with anxiety.

Glen hesitated before speaking because what he was about to say would be hard for them to hear. In the gentlest way possible he said, "The car appears to have been ransacked." He looked from one to the other and continued, "It's covered in blood and looks as if the person driving has been dragged out. Beaten. Maybe worse."

Patricia gasped.

Here it was. The part of the job Glen hated the most. When the mournful sound left Patricia's lips Glen lowered his gaze to the floor. He'd seen this kind of pain way too often. The husband did what every spouse did. He wrapped his arms around her and rocked backwards and forwards. Next, he fired that age-old question.

"Are you sure? Sure, it's our son's car. I mean, it looks the same in the photo, but maybe it's not. Maybe someone swapped the plates."

"That's possible, however, we have checked the VIN against the registration and it's a match. We will need you to come to the compound to identify it." Glen gave the man a minute to absorb what had been said. He'd like to leave it there but, that wasn't going to find their son. "Mr Hawkins. Richard. I have a few questions. I hope you don't mind."

Richard lifted his head and nodded understanding.

"Beau has some form. Did you know that?"

"Yes. We know he's had some problems with drugs and was fined but, he's better now, finished with that part of his life."

"You know that for sure?"

"He's been in rehab. His doctor gave him the all-clear a few months ago."

"I'm sorry to say this, sir, but that doesn't mean he's finished with it. Often users find their way back."

"We know." Richard swallowed; his face contorted in grief. "He's been in rehab before. This time was different. He came back to us. He was our son again. Our Beau. Quieter that's all."

"Is that why you were trying to show him you trusted him?" Glen asked.

"Yes. We have to let go. His doctor told us, for Beau's sake and ours, we need to let go and show him that we trust him to do the right thing."

Glen nodded his understanding. "Can we have his doctor's name and address, please? He might give us some insight into Beau's state of mind." Glen glanced at Sean to make sure he had his notepad and pen ready.

"Doctor Baez. Ramon Baez. Out at the Hillsdale Rehabilitation Clinic in Trenton." Richard shook his head. "I don't know the exact address, but we could dig it out for you."

Sean jotted the information down, gave his head a shake and said, "Nah, that's all good, we know the place." He focused on his partner, and then said, "Richard. The car is pretty messed up. Forensics is still examining it and as yet we don't have any of the results. It looks like he met someone. With his history, well... maybe he owed someone money and couldn't pay?"

"He'd have been able to pay." Patricia popped her head up, her eyes wide. "He has money. Over two hundred and fifty thousand."

The officers looked at each other in surprise. It wasn't usual for users to have money, made through honest hard work. Glen turned to the couple. "We'd like to have a look at his bank accounts and anything else he might have in that regard if you don't mind."

"I'll get it all for you." Patricia stood and headed down the hall.

Glen focused on Richard. "We'll need you and your family, or anyone you know who might have been in Beau's car, to come into the station and give us some fingerprint samples." He paused. "Forensics tells us there are a lot of different prints in the vehicle. We need to identify as many of those as we can."

"Yes. Not a problem." Richard clamped his hands together and nodded. "Will tomorrow be alright?"

"Thanks, Richard. Tomorrow's fine. We'll also need DNA samples, perhaps a hairbrush of Beau's or anything similar."

Richard nodded again.

Glen knew the man was struggling but, he needed to continue. "Richard. Did you know Beau's been arrested for illegal boxing? Syndicate fighting, backyard, a lot of money and nasty people in that circle, sir."

"He. Fought?" Richard's jaw dropped. "Are you sure it was Beau?"

"Police records show he was arrested in April of last year." Glen leaned back in the chair. "Our investigations are still ongoing and of course, there are the drug and possession charges."

"Yes... the drugs but... Beau fighting?" Richard shook his head in disbelief.

"Has he ever come home with a busted-up face?" Glen asked. "These fights can be brutal and sometimes fatal."

"Ah..." Richard shrugged, his mouth agape in shock. "He... yeah... he's come around looking... well..." He took in a huge breath of air and ran his hands over the top of his head. "He lived out of home for a while, and now and then he came over looking a bit battered. One time he said he'd had an accident at work, some timber had come off the back of a truck when they were unloading it and he'd copped it in the face." Richard took another breath. "He's been out of rehab for eight months and living here with us since. He hasn't put a foot out of line, just been quieter."

Sean changed tact. "Have you got any recent photos of Beau, Mr Hawkins?"

On automatic Richard stood up. He lifted two photos from the sideboard and handed them to the detective.

"He's a fit-looking bugger." Sean studied the pictures. One full-length and one face shot. Beau Hawkins was a tall, good-looking blonde man with intense brown eyes. "You sure you didn't know he was a fighter?"

"No," Richard said with a sigh. "If you said it was his brother, I'd believe you but, Beau? He doesn't have a mean bone in his body." He sat and rested his elbows on his knees.

Sean continued, "We'll need to take this photo if you don't mind, so we can match it to what we have on record and for our missing persons file." He studied the face shot again. "Does he have any new distinguishing marks? Scars, tattoos? Our records, from his fighting arrest, show none."

"Yes." Richard touched his right shoulder. "An angel tattoo, at least I think it's an angel. No wings, just a halo or shawl, a flowing gown type of thing" He furrowed his brow in thought and shook his head. "Sorry. It's new. I'll ask his brother and give you more details tomorrow."

"You're sure it's on his right shoulder?" Sean watched Richard nod and then scribbled in his notepad. "Are there any others?"

"No, not that I know of."

"Would you have any photos, which show the tattoo?"

Richard shrugged. "I'm not sure. Patricia might know."

Glen sat forward in his chair. "Richard. I've got to ask. Why didn't you report Beau's car missing?"

"We weren't asked about his car." Richard frowned and lifted his shoulders again. "Just his details and, to be honest, I haven't thought about his car." He hung his head and then looked up with glassy eyes. "We're worried about his wellbeing. Beau's not been himself the last two years. We're always in a panic about him." Richard gasped. "We've done everything possible to bring him back to us but, shit..." He lifted his large hands and covered his eyes with the heel of his palms. "We thought we'd won."

Copyright © 2025 Donna Fieldhouse. All rights reserved.

The word *Form* as in Beau has form means - criminal record, rap sheet, police record.

The photo above is what I imagine Delaney Road might be like.