Saving Sarah

It wasn’t the job Greg thought he’d have and it wasn’t what he told the teacher back at school that it’s what he’d be when he grew up. But being a Google street view driver; that’s what Greg did and he liked it.

When he first went for the job, it wasn’t advertised via Google, in fact he thought he’d just be driving around, picking up and delivering post. He thought he might even become a chauffeur like in the movies. But after an interview and landing the job, he was contacted by Google. He learned he was going to be driving around, capturing video footage so that it could go onto Google Street View.

So here Greg is, driving down Worcester Road, a couple of kids following him as he goes.

‘Bloody kids,’ he growls. He’ll have to drive down the road again, recapturing the footage. He pulls over and presses the button to lower the window.

‘Oi! Leave the car alone!’ The kids laugh and run off down the street. Greg does a 3-point turn and starts again. The car’s a moving billboard, alerting fanatics that they might be featured in a section of Google Street View.

Otherwise it’s not so bad. Greg listens to podcasts and audio books while he drives. It feels a bit isolating sometimes; at the start of every shift, they take his phone so that he can’t get distracted. He glances at the GPS and the footage regularly; making sure it’s not picking up on anything strange or out of the ordinary.

He looks up at the road but movement from a nearby house catches his eye; a woman with long brown wavy hair, wearing a light summer dress, pruning roses in her front yard. He continues to stare and without realising, slows down. She looks up, notices the car and gives a small wave, smiling. Greg waves back but remembers the windows are tinted and immediately drops his hand. He drops his gaze and checks the camera. Damn, he’ll have to re-record – but not today, he’ll come back tomorrow.

The next day is Monday meaning the kids are at school. Greg’s hopeful as he drives past the light green coloured picket fence, lined with roses. He hopes to catch a glimpse but she’s not there.

A young man opens the front door and jogs down the path to the black Audi parked in the driveway. He looks too young to be her husband but he’d have to be in his mid-twenties. Surely this is not her son. How old does that make her? The man pulls gets to the car then looks around quickly before getting in, reversing out and driving away.

Greg hesitates but then continues driving, following him down the road. Just collect the data and move on, that’s all that matters. Don’t worry about anything else; just do your job. He follows the Audi for a little while, turning down a few streets and then back out onto the main road. The driver speeds up and pulls away. Greg’s phone rings.

‘Hey mate, how are you going?’

‘Good.’

‘That’s good. Look, I’m just checking in and seeing where you’re at on the maps and it looks like you’re headed out to Richmond. Aren’t you meant to be photographing Chermside today?’

Greg rolls his eyes and slows down.

‘Yeah, I thought I missed this part is all. So I came back through to double check.’ The Audi has pulled several hundred metres ahead and is changing lanes. ‘All good, though. I’m heading back out to Chermside now.’ Greg indicates and turns left into the next street.

‘Ah okay, no worries. Well, you enjoy the rest of the day mate.’

‘Thanks. Chat to you later.’

Just do your job, Greg reminds himself. Shaking his head, he gets back to work.

Later, Greg pulls into the underground parking lot and swaps the keys for his own car keys to his Toyota Camry. He stops by the supermarket on the way home. What’s for tea tonight? He picks up a small leg of lamb and some vegetables for roasting. That’ll do.

When he arrives home to his apartment, Greg switches the TV on and heads into the kitchen with the grocery bags listening to the news.

‘Police say,’ the presenter says. ‘Sarah was last seen by a neighbour yesterday who says they saw her leaving her home in exercise gear, before jogging away. If anyone has any further information, police are requesting that you please call the number you see displayed now.’

Greg looks up from chopping a carrot and drops the knife on the board. The woman with long locks of beautiful brown hair is now smiling on his TV screen. Sarah, so that’s her name. Missing? And she was last seen yesterday. Greg picks up the remote and pauses the TV, walking towards the screen to get a better look. That’s definitely her. He presses play.

‘And now,’ continues the presenter. ‘Onto the weather with Charles.’

‘Thanks Sandy...’ but Charles’ voice trails off as Greg turns down the volume. He rests his chin in his hands, leaning forward, staring at the TV. Smelling smoke, he leaps up and runs to the kitchen, turning the gas on the stovetop down. Instead of eating dinner, he just pushes food around the plate.

Greg’s driving around Chermside again, finishing off the last few streets and re-recording patches where cars were blocking entrances or when he saw a man come out to get his daily newspaper, in nothing but his boxers.

He thinks of Worcester Road. Don’t do it, he thinks. Don’t get yourself involved. Just finish up and go. Greg turns left into Worcester Road. His heart starts to beat faster as he comes closer to the picket fence with the red and orange roses. He pulls over across the road from her house and watches. There’s no movement or any signs of anybody around the property. A young couple walks down the road, towards Greg and point towards the car, excited. Greg waves and pulls back out into the street, driving away.

When Greg gets home, he puts the TV on and sits down to watch.

 ‘Sarah Wilkinson,’ the reporter says. ‘Who’s been missing for two days now teaches year 5s at the local primary school.’ The reporter with the microphone is replaced with the face of a young girl with blonde curly hair.

‘We really miss Mrs Wilkinson and hope she comes back to school soon.’ Sandy the presenter is back on screen and again mentions the phone number to call.

Greg sits down staring at the phone number and glances at his home phone docked on the side table. She’s been missing since Sunday. Greg picks up the phone and dials the number, instead of ringing, it plays a message: Please note that your call will be recorded.

‘Hello, you’ve contacted Stop Crime. How can I help you?’

‘Hi, er, I saw the ad about the lady on the TV and I think I might have some information.’

‘Can you please explain from the beginning, outlining what you’re referring to and the information you can provide.’

‘Ah, the other day, I was driving past this lady’s house and then the next day, I saw a black Audi leaving her house.’

‘Do you know the name of the lady sir?’

‘Greg, you can call me Greg.’

‘Thank you Greg. The name?

‘Sarah Wilkinson. I drove past her house and saw her pruning her roses. Then that night I saw her on the TV, saying she was missing.’

‘Approximately what time did you see Sarah that day?

‘It was about 12:30 in the afternoon.’

‘And she was pruning her roses?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank you Greg. I have on file here that she was last seen at around 2:30pm that afternoon. You were not the last person to see her but your information is still extremely valuable. Is there anything else you can tell us about seeing her that day?’

‘Ah, no, not really. I didn’t speak to her or anything. I’m a Google driver, see, and I just saw her outside in the front garden. Then I saw her later on the TV.’

‘Thank you for calling Greg. May we take down your details in case police need to contact you?’

‘Yeah sure. Greg Martins. 4/183 Grovers Place, Wintersburn.’

‘Is this phone number okay to call you on?’

‘Yeah, that’s fine.’

‘Thank you for calling Greg. Every call is important to us. Please contact us again if you think of anything else. Have a good evening.’ The phone clicks and goes silent.

Nodding, he docks the phone back in the cradle. Shit. He forgot about the black Audi. He goes to call back but it rings before he picks it up.

‘Hello?’

‘Hey love, how are you?’

‘Hi Mum, I’m good. How are you?’ After several hours of hearing about his cousin getting married, and how Aunty Mabel is losing her marbles, Greg hangs up the phone and doesn’t even make it to bed for sleep that night.

Greg’s moves on through Richmond. then Lesden but his mind never leaves Chermside. His thoughts go back to Sarah, wondering where she is and what she’s doing.

Dinner that night is simple: just a roast chicken and green beans. There’s a knock at the door and Greg gets up to answer, in his trousers and an old polo.

‘Greg Martins?’ The two officers at the door take off their hats. ‘I’m Officer Corey and this is Officer Peters. Is it alright if we come in and ask a few questions?’

‘Ah, sure. What’s this about?’ They enter Greg’s apartment and walk into the living room.

‘It’s relating to the disappearance of Sarah Wilkinson. We understand that you called Stop Crime last night with some information.’

‘Oh, yeah. Right. Yes, I did.’

‘Can you please tell us how you know Sarah Wilkinson?’

‘I don’t know her. I was driving around and I saw her outside doing the gardening. Then later on that night, I saw her on the news, saying that she was missing. When I called Stop Crime though, they said that I wasn’t the last to see her before she went missing.’

‘Did she seem stressed?’

‘Not that I noticed. She was just cutting her roses. When she saw the car, she waved and smiled. I went to wave back but I forgot that she wouldn’t be able to see me through the tinted windows. After that I just kept driving.’

‘Did you see her again?’

‘No. I drove back down the same street the next day but she wasn’t there. Then I saw her on the news again.’

‘Did you notice anything unusual the following day?’

‘I saw a man leaving the house yesterday.’

‘Can you describe this man?’

‘I dunno, he was young; about 20 or so. He came out of the house and drove off. I assumed it was either her son or her husband.’

‘Mrs Wilkinson doesn’t have a son or a husband. Is there anything else you can tell us about him?’

‘Ah, yes. He drives a black Audi R8.’ The officer scribbles notes down on a pad while the other officer doesn’t say anything. He observes the surroundings and then he speaks.

‘The neighbour who last saw Sarah Wilkinson mentioned that there was a man driving past in a strange car, three days in a row. I’m assuming now that this was you?’

‘Ah yes, I guess it was, yeah,’ Greg says, thinking of the young couple walking down the street.

‘What do you do for a living again Greg?’

‘I’m a Google Street View Driver.’

‘Is it normal for you to drive down the same street, three times, three days in a row?’

‘Well er, sometimes I have to come back and reshoot if there’s kids or something captured on camera that shouldn’t be there.’

‘Three times?’

‘Well the first day there were kids so I came back the next day and then that day she was on the news so I came back again the next day to see if it was the same lady.’

The policeman nods.

‘You don’t think I had anything to do with it do ya?’

‘Not at all. Do you think we’d be able to get copies of what you caught on film each time you drove down that street?’

‘You’d have to take it up with my manager but, I’m sure that’d be fine – wouldn’t be a problem I don’t think.’

‘Great, we’ll do that.’

‘Righto,’ says Officer Corey. ‘We’ll leave you to it Mr Martins.’

‘Greg is fine.’

‘Have a good evening, Greg.’ He follows the officers out and closes the front door behind them. Why couldn’t you just leave it alone, he thinks. Just do your job, get the data and move on. Greg has abided by this motto for years. Why disrupt that now?

Greg’s missed the news but settles down to watch a movie instead. It’s Shrek, one of his all-time favourites. He knows every line so it doesn’t matter so much when he mind drifts off to think about other things, like Sarah and why the police are now questioning him.

Work over the next few days is quiet, until his boss calls.

‘Hey mate, I’ve got some bad news.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The police took the footage from the few days where that woman went missing and we didn’t get a backup copy. Since it’s now evidence, we’re going to need you to re-record.’

Greg groans. This is just never going to go away.

‘Yeah okay, I’ll get back there later today. Today and tomorrow - it shouldn’t take too long.’

‘Great, thanks mate. Appreciate it!’

‘All good. Talk to you later.’

Greg finishes up where he is and starts to drive towards Chermside for the fourth time in as little as two weeks. As Greg drives down Worcester Road, he keeps a steady pace and focuses on the road ahead. He turns up the volume on the radio and tunes into old country, distracting him from where he is. Every now and then he glances at the camera, making sure there’s nothing out of the ordinary. As he drives past the light green picket fence, he looks straight ahead but, movement out of the corner of his eye draws his gaze over to the Californian style house. The front door is open and a woman runs out the front door, glancing back every so often. Greg slams his feet on the brakes and watches as the same young man he saw the other day, follows her out, chasing her down to the front gate.

Sarah lifts the lock on the gate and the man catches up to her. He grabs at her jacket but she elbows him in the face, pushing him off. She gets the gate open and runs out onto the street. She heads straight for Greg, wide-eyed in the car. She slams her hands on the bonnet and screams at him. She doesn’t wait for a response. She runs for the passenger’s side door, opens it and gets in next to Greg. She’s soaked.

Greg stares at her but then sees the man heading towards the car.

‘Drive!’ Sarah yells. Greg puts his foot on the accelerator and swerves around the man running straight for the car. Sarah screams as he tries to pry open the door next to her but she grabs onto the handle and firmly holds it closed. Greg continues to pelt down the street and makes the first right, glancing in the rear view mirror to see the man throwing his hands up in the air and screaming out to Google Street View car driving away.

‘Thank you,’ breathes Sarah.

‘I’ve seen you on the news,’ says Greg, feeling like an idiot immediately, looking at Sarah who’s dirty and battered. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, can you please take me to the police station?’

‘Greg, we meet again, says Officer Peter. ‘I thought you didn’t know Sarah.’

‘I do now. I just picked her up.’

‘He saved my life,’ Sarah butts in. ‘I was being held hostage and I escaped. Greg drove me away.’

‘We’re glad to see you alive Sarah. Please come with us. We’ll note it all down.’

Greg’s left standing in the waiting room of the police station. Standing awkwardly, he goes to leave but passes some chairs and decides to sit down and wait instead. He sits there for hours before Sarah and the officers emerge from the questioning room.

‘It seems an apology is in order,’ says Officer Corey. ‘We shouldn’t have treated you like a suspect. It turns out a former student is to blame.’

‘A student?’

‘Yes,’ says Sarah. ‘I taught my attacker years ago and I guess his fondness of me grew into something much more sinister. Thank you Greg, if you hadn’t been there, I’m not sure I’d be alive.’

‘And where is he now?’

‘We picked him up about an hour ago, wandering the streets, covered in blood. Sarah gave him a pretty good nosebleed.’

Greg just shakes his head.

‘Let us drop you home Greg, and I’ll talk to your boss. I think you’ve earned the afternoon off.’

Later Greg sits down to watch the news and Sandy comes up on the screen, just as she does every other weeknight.

‘In other news, missing schoolteacher Sarah Wilkinson has been found alive after being held hostage in the underground bunker of her own home. Earlier today, Mrs Wilkinson managed to escape from her attacker, a former student of hers, and run out into the street, where a passing driver was able to pick her up and take her to safety. We’ve been unable to identify her rescuer, but by being in the right place at the right time, he's become a hero, saving Sarah Wilkinson.’

Greg sits there, taking it all in: a hero. The world didn't need to know, but he did, and that's all that matters.