Crisis of Identity
Chapter 8

Each night when Mitch tuned in for his evening news fix, I remained on the balcony with a cold beer pondering the elephant in the room—my resemblance to a three year old kid who went missing twenty-five years ago. It’s a dilemma that continues to occupy my waking thoughts.

Could there be a distant family connection I don’t know about? That would certainly explain the genetic similarities.

Or maybe it can be explained by the theory that everybody supposedly has seven people in the world who look just like them. Maybe Jayden Evans is one of my seven.

Regardless, and contrary to what Brent Dawes hopes, I am not his missing boy. I am not Jayden Evans.

Just like the previous four nights, the growing intrigue had me booting up my phone’s browser to continue my research on this missing kid.

YouTube videos provided replays from over 10 years of news articles. There was one with Jayden’s distressed parents making heart wrenching pleas to return their boy.

There were news articles of a much younger Brent Dawes, complete with thick brown hair and a dark moustache. He was almost hidden behind news media microphones, while he updated the public on the latest findings.

There were You Tubes of news articles depicting lines of people searching the local bush.

I found an article where Dawes was interviewed on what would have been Jayden’s fifth birthday. A caption read, “730 sleeps since Gold Coast mum last hugged her little boy lost.”

Reality hit hard when I read this. I instantly related it to my mum and how devastated she would be, if I was suddenly snatched from her life.

Imagine the tragedy of never being able to watch your child grow into an adult. Imagine never being able share the various stages of his developing years, all the while not knowing if they were alive or dead. Chills ran down my spine at the thought of it and I’m not a parent.

Another You Tube news video from 2018 reported that Jayden’s disappearance was only second in public interest to that of the three Beaumont children, who disappeared from a South Australia suburb in 1966 aged 9, 7 & 4. Like Jayden, they have never been found.

An incoming call from an unknown number lit up my phone. I stared at the warbling phone contemplating whether to answer it or not. Probably another off-shore call centre… again, I mused. ‘Hello…’ I waited for the sub-continent accent, with a thumb paused over the end call button.

‘Kade… good evening. This is Brent Dawes… How’s the holiday going?’

What the fff… ‘How did you get this number…?’

‘I’m a cop, mate. That’s what we do.’

‘No. Really. How did you get my mobile number…?’

‘I was in the Robina area on another matter, so I took the opportunity to visit Sarah. She gave me your number.’

‘Did she just…? I’ll have to have a word, or two with her. You don’t give out other people’s mobiles…’

Dawes scoffed. ‘Don’t blame her…I told her it was very important that I contact you urgently, so she thought she was helping.’

‘So, what do you want…?’

‘During our coffee, after the funeral last week, you mentioned you attended a private secondary school…’

’That’s right. St Xavier’s. What about it…?

‘Did you have the typical private school blazer…?’

‘Of course. Essential part of any college uniform.’

‘What colour was the St Xavier’s school blazer?’

’Green… bottle green with a gold logo embroidered on the pocket. Why are you asking this…?

After a brief pause, Dawes said, ‘I’m going to send you a link to a website…I want you to read it and call me straight back… OK?’

These cryptic games were wearing me thin. ‘Can’t you just tell me what is so important?’

‘No. I want you to read it for yourself.’ His voice had a strange excitement to it.

‘I assume this website is something to do with Jayden’s disappearance…’

‘Indirectly… Yes it is.’

‘And… I’m assuming because you are force feeding me this website…it has something to do with me as well…’

’Just read it. I think you’ll find it very interesting.’

‘If I read it… Will you leave me alone…?’

‘Probably not. Look…I’ve just sent you a link. Have a read and get back to me tonight.’

I ended the call and opened the link from the text message he sent. A website news article with a by-line dated 2004 opened. My chest tightened slightly when I read the headline;

“Jayden Evans is Alive and Well and Living in WA- UK Psychic”

The article was compelling reading. To be frank, I was a little stunned at this psychic’s comments, some of which were too close to home not to resonate. Clearly, this was the cop’s intentions.

I re-checked the date of the article. 2004. I was thirteen in 2004.

‘Hey bro…bought you another beer…’ Mitch said, stepping out onto the balcony.

Such was my focus on my phone I didn’t notice his approach. ‘Oh…hey. Cheers mate.’ I accepted the Corona.

‘You OK, bro…? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, or something.’

I took a long chug. ‘You could say that… I’m reading about this psychic from the UK… Back in 2004, she —’

‘Psychic. What the fuck, bro… You don’t believe in that shit. What are you reading that for?’

‘Back in 2004, she predicted that this missing kid, Jayden Evans, was alive and well and living in WA.’

Mitch slid into a chair. I had his attention. ‘How so…?’ He sipped his beer.

‘She was a guest on one of those midday-type talk shows… you know like Oprah…only in the UK. She was being interviewed about the number of successful missing persons cases she’d assisted local police in solving.’ Mitch gave a ‘keep going’ nod. ‘During a Q&A with the audience, someone from Australia asked this psychic if she knew anything about the disappearance of Jayden Evans, back in 1994.’

‘And did she…?’ Mitch said, leaning onto his elbows. He appeared surprisingly interested.

‘More than I expected, I’ve gotta say…’

‘Really…?’

’She says she was aware of this case. She said she had seen Jayden. He appeared relaxed, like he was having fun with boys his own age. She said he looked to be about twelve or thirteen years old.

Mitch rubbed a hand across his mouth. ‘That’s creepy….’

‘It says here that she was able to picture Jayden alive and well in the grounds of either a religious school, or a church, she wasn’t sure which. She’s never been to Australia before so it wasn’t completely clear to her, but she was getting a sense that it was a school in WA…’

‘A religious school…? In WA…?’ Mitch repeated knowingly. He too made the connection.

‘She said the front of the building she’d pictured had a tall spire, like a church, so that’s why she wasn’t certain, but she felt it was a religious school rather than a church.’

‘The admin building at Xavs had church spire,’ Mitch said.

‘Correct. She said she saw this kid sitting under a large shaded area, like a sail. He was having lunch with his friends.’

Mitch’s mouth fell open. ‘The outdoor café seating area at Xavs is covered by a huge sun sail…’

‘It gets worse… She said she thought the school she saw may have been a private school…’

‘How could she tell that?’

‘By the uniforms on the boys.’

‘This psychic saw that much detail?’

I nodded a muted response. ‘Have a guess what uniform she described back in 2004...’

Mitch sat upright in his chair as he treated me to a hard, but knowing stare. ‘No…’

I nodded my confirmation. ‘The Jayden she saw was wearing a green jacket with a gold logo on the pocket.’

‘Whoa!’ Mitch said. His eyes fell heavily to the floor. ‘How creepy is that?’

‘Too creepy. I don’t believe in this psychic shit… but what she is describing…’ My words trailed off. I didn’t want to articulate it out loud.

‘You wanna hope your cop mate doesn’t get a hold of this, bro.’

I returned serve on the hard stare. ‘How do you think I got this?’ I held up my phone.

‘What… the cop sent it you…?’ I nodded a silent confirmation. ‘Why did he do that…?’ S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

‘Coz he thinks I’m him…’ I dropped the phone on the table. ‘And shit like this only feeds his suspicions,’ I said flicking a hand at my phone.

‘I gotta say though, bro… If I hadn’t grown up with you… I’d be starting to wonder as well after hearing all that creepy shit,’ Mitch said.

Call it closed minded, or maybe I’m yet to be convinced otherwise, but I don’t believe in psychic phenomena, mainly because their predictions are usually vague and can be adapted to suit most circumstances.

But the coincidences in these predictions made back in 2004 were way too close to my childhood. Could it be just that—coincidence, or was there more to this?

‘What are ya gunna do?’

I lifted my chin to the phone. ‘He wants me to call him back to discuss what I just read.’ My eyes locked on to the phone on the table. It is the last thing I want to do.

‘Are you going to…?’

I shrugged. ‘Don’t really want to.’

‘Let him sweat, bro. We’re on holidays. I reckon we should grab a feed then hit the bars…’ Mitch drained what was left of his beer.

I studied what remained of my beer before taking a sip. I know I can’t unread all that, but will I be able to just park it and go out and get pissed? I’m not so sure. There was something very creepy about this.

‘You know what, bro…Why don’t I just call this cop back and get it out of the way.’

Mitch stood from his chair. ‘Your call, mate…’ He said. It was difficult to tell if he was disinterested or disappointed at everything. He pointed to my beer. ‘Want another?’

‘Yeah, thanks.’ I watched him move back inside. My eyes fell back to the phone. ‘Fuck it…’ I caved and called the cop back. It answered after one ring.

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