“Your name is Annette Crown and soon, very soon, you’re going to blame yourself for the violent death of someone you love very much.

They’re going to die and, later, you’re not even going to remember being in the car with them when it happened.”


This publication contains two versions of the same story. Chase Annette Crown through Sydney’s chaotic underworld,

Or follow Brian Crown as he battles to uncover the location of poor, lost little Andy.

“Put on your damn seat belt!” Annette shrieks at Andy with a furious cry. The eight-year-old boy has a single moment in which to squeal the reply, “Look out!” before the terrible accident.

The sound of screeching tires summons the terror.

The weight of the vehicle shifts rapidly as the momentum continues forward, but the nose of the car turns sharply. The two left wheels are pulled from the ground and the right side doors fall underneath to meet the road in a petrifying SMASH. The windows shatter and broken glass fills the tortured space within as the doors crimple and complain. It doesn’t stop. The roof is next to hit the earth as the car continues to roll. The steel sheet twists and fails, collapsing as the pressure builds and suddenly the tops of the seats are driven down like tribal spears in a squealing pig. A loud “FUMP” sounds over everything else as the upside-down space within the car is halved.


Those words tear through Brian’s mind, “Put on your damn seatbelt!” and he tries to remember the moments before.

What did Andy say? He’s just a little kid; did he refuse? Were his wife and son arguing? Yes, they were. Andy said, “No.”

He said, “No.”

Oh Jesus, Andy isn’t wearing his seatbelt.


What will become of you when the truth is accidentally exposed?