The Great Divide

by L. J. M. Owen

  ‘Therapy. Years and years of therapy. And great parents who let me work through everything, no matter how much crockery I damaged.’

  Jake’s expression must have conveyed his puzzlement.

  ‘For the longest time, after every therapy session I’d have a screaming fit and break something in the house. I’m ashamed of it now, but they understood.’ She reached toward Jake with one hand. ‘If you do find out anything about my baby, make sure you contact me straight away? I still think about them every day … and I don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl.’

  ‘There’s one way to find out.’ Jake looked at the locket around Lilith’s neck.

  She grasped it protectively in her hand. ‘You can’t have this.’

  ‘How about part of it? DNA technology today only needs a sliver.’

  ‘The smallest piece possible.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jake said, relieved he might finally have some DNA evidence to begin untangling the web of abuse and torture that the girls in Ava O’Brien’s care had been subjected to. ‘If it’s okay with you, I’ll ask someone from the forensics team to come here and take a sample?’

  Throughout the interview Jake had been uncomfortably aware of Pete’s presence at the pub nearby, so he may as well make him useful.

  ‘One last thing?’ Jake said.

  ‘Really the last thing?’

  Jake flashed her a smile. ‘Would you consent to giving a blood sample?’

  ‘For …?’

  ‘There are no guarantees, but we might be able to use it to help trace your child.’

  ‘Or find out who attacked me?’

  She was quick. He nodded.

  ‘I’ll arrange for someone local to come around and take a sample tomorrow morning?’

  She pursed her lips. ‘Sure.’

  It occurred to Jake that he should have ensured Lilith would have support in place following the interview. ‘Do you have someone you can spend time with tonight?’

  Lilith shrugged. ‘I’m going to be a mess tonight, of course, so I’ve already called my parents. They have gin and tonic, ice cream and marshmallows, extra boxes of aloe vera tissues, and my favourite movies on standby.’

  ‘That’s organised of you.’

  Her silk robe billowed with a second shrug. ‘It’s the best self-care combo for me.’

  Jake stood and offered her his hand again. ‘Sounds damn fine to me.’

  *

  Melbourne’s comparatively balmy air had apparently defrosted Jake’s nose. Stepping back into the street he was hit from every direction by the scents of his home city—enticing aromas from nearby restaurants, petrol fumes from passing cars and the rich clouds of perfume enveloping passers-by. Pete was waiting for them at the front gate to Lilith’s apartment block.

  ‘One drink?’ was all he said.

  Murphy’s eyes lit up. ‘It’s been a long day.’ He strode toward the pub on the corner of the block, leaving the others with no option but to follow in his wake. Murphy was halfway through his first schooner by the time Jake and Pete arrived. It felt surreal to be propping up a Melbourne bar with Pete once more.

  ‘What can you tell me about the case?’ he asked.

  Jake sighed. ‘It’s shaping to be a clusterfuck, to be honest. I’ve got an elderly woman murdered and dumped in a vineyard; a litany of offences against the girls she cared for in a home she ran on the same site; no concrete information about where the funds to run the home came from; a rapidly growing pool of potential suspects, most of whom I’ll probably never be able to find; and a team consisting of one wet-behind-the-ears constable.’

  Also, if he was honest with himself, Jake’s feelings toward the case were becoming increasingly complicated—he was pursuing the killer of a woman who had either led or collaborated in the abuse of multiple girls in her care.

  ‘Do you have anything?’ Pete asked.

  ‘The money was allegedly coming from St John of God …’

  Pete grimaced.

  Understandably. The St John of God brothers were responsible for some of the worst child abuse atrocities ever uncovered in Australia and New Zealand. ‘I know,’ he said, ‘but so far I’ve found no record of their activities in Tasmania. The only other thing I have is the possible dumping of girls from the home in Melbourne, including our interviewee in the apartment. But there’s even less evidence of that.’

  ‘I have some spare capacity. I could put someone on this if you want me to?’

  For a brief moment Jake felt relieved that someone who understood his dedication and capability as a detective acknowledged the difficulty of the case and that it would require additional resources. But only for a second.

  ‘Why are you offering?’ he asked.

  Pete’s expression became pained. ‘Jake. Come on. You’ve known me your whole life. I’m not the bad guy. You have to believe me.’

  Jake almost snarled. ‘You’re not the good guy here, Pete. You’re an arsehole.’

  ‘Jake, it’s not that big a deal.’

  ‘Yes, it fucking is. How could you?’

  Pete looked genuinely pained. ‘You’d never understand. We’re going round in circles. Can’t things just go back to the way they were?’

  Of the hundred retorts that flashed through Jake’s mind, he couldn’t bring himself to utter any of them. ‘I could do with help bagging and tagging a tissue sample from a dried piece of umbilical cord, if you like. Our interviewee has it in a locket around her neck.’

  Pete didn’t hesitate. ‘I won’t ask where that came from, as long as it’s legit?’

  Jake nodded. ‘She’s also consented to provide a blood sample.’

  ‘I have a kit in my car you could use to take the tissue sample now, and I’ll skip her blood sample to the front of the queue in the morning?’

  That was a relief. ‘Sounds good.’

  Pete cocked his head to one side. ‘How long are you in town?’

  ‘Just tonight.’

  ‘Why don’t you come over for dinner?’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Jake. Come on. It’ll hurt Nic if you don’t.’

  ‘That’s rich.’

  ‘Look, I misjudged …’

  Jake couldn’t believe Pete was trying to discuss it again. ‘Yes, you did.’

  ‘I honestly thought …’

  ‘You thought wrong.’ Jake let his fury show. ‘How could you do that to Nic? How could you think I would be okay with you doing that to Nic?’

  ‘I …’

  ‘How many others?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t play dumb. How many others? Ten? Twenty? The whole time you’ve been married? You’re obviously practised at it.’

  ‘Nic knew who I was when we got together.’

  ‘Just fuck off, Pete.’

  ‘What will I tell Nic?’

  ‘Lie to her. Apparently you’re good at that.’

  Pete winced. ‘I appreciate you not saying anything, but you really didn’t have to move states.’

  Jake looked Pete squarely in the eye. ‘Yes, I did.’

  Pete’s face, so similar to Jake’s, bloomed bright red beneath his freckles. ‘I’ll go get the sample kit from my car.’

  Jake ordered a double whisky.

  Murphy, who had been hovering on the other side of the bar, sidled up to him, grinning. ‘Did you have it away with his wife?’ he asked, wiping foam from his upper lip.

  Jake’s mood darkened. ‘What?’

  ‘That bloke, Pete. Did you sleep with his missus?’

  He had apparently been eavesdropping, catching just enough of the conversation to get the wrong idea. ‘Murphy, you need to shut up and mind your own business. Right now.’

  ‘So you are human.’ The constable’s grin broadened. ‘We were all star
ting to wonder.’

  ‘Murphy, I’m warning you, drop it.’

  ‘Sure thing, boss.’ Murphy dug at Jake’s ribs with his elbow and started talking about pubs near their accom­modation, wondering how late—or early—they stayed open.

  Chapter Twelve

  Melbourne, Victoria

  Tuesday, 7.36 p.m.

  In the sterile surrounds of his government-rate accom­modation, Jake let scalding water run over the back of his head. With his mouth open and liquid streaming down either side of his face, he gulped at clouds of steam. He slammed the side of his fist against the cheap white tiles, over and over. A hairline fracture appeared, somehow satisfying his most urgent need.

  Deep breaths. On with the job. Leave the past behind. Think about the case.

  Lilith’s quiet desperation in seeking her lost child marked a turning point in the investigation for Jake. He owed it to her—and the other girls in that home—to reveal the full sordid tale of what had occurred in that frigid cottage.

  He’d have dinner with Murphy in the hotel restaurant downstairs, talk through next steps in the investigation, and get back on the plane tomorrow with laser focus. Once in Dunton he’d grind this case until it cracked, then he’d find Lilith’s missing baby.

  He was a few minutes late to dinner, having wrestled with his limited clothing choices. Murphy was waiting for him at the table with a half-empty glass in hand.

  ‘We have a lot of questions and not many concrete answers,’ Jake began.

  ‘Hmm …’ Murphy’s vacant gaze betrayed his multiple pre-dinner drinks.

  ‘We’ve got no confirmation of where the girls who lived at the home came from, where they went when they left, and—now—we need to locate Lilith’s baby …’

  ‘Don’t you mean Matilda?’

  Jake chose to ignore that.

  ‘… And, for that matter, the identity of the child’s father. Was Lilith raped, or did Ava drug and inseminate her?’

  ‘O’Brien’s the most likely suspect there,’ Murphy said, showing a glimpse of attention paid.

  Along with the saliva sample Meena had already taken from O’Brien for exclusionary purposes in relation to his sister’s death, the sample of Lilith’s umbilical cord—now locked in the safe in Jake’s room—should prove that one way or the other.

  Even if it emerged that O’Brien wasn’t the father, Jake was certain he was implicated. It was clear someone had drugged Lilith in Dunton, moved her unconscious body into the boot of a car, smuggled her across Bass Strait, then dumped her on St Kilda beach. It might have coincided with Ava’s annual trips ‘to see friends’, but Jake doubted that tiny Ava would have been physically capable of carrying Lilith’s body to the car.

  ‘I’m sure O’Brien was involved somehow,’ Jake said. ‘We’ll interview Amelia again on the way through town, then when we get back to the station tomorrow afternoon, the first thing I want to do is bring O’Brien in for questioning again.’

  ‘Want me to set it up?’

  ‘Let’s surprise him. If he’s our man, I don’t want him preparing for it, or getting nervous and running.’

  ‘Smart. It would have been a repeat thing, though, right?’ Murphy said.

  ‘What would?’

  ‘The attack that left the girl pregnant.’

  ‘She said it happened just the once.’

  Murphy scoffed. ‘Yeah, they don’t get pregnant the first time.’

  Could he really lack such a basic grasp of reproductive biology? ‘Murph?’

  The constable ran one hand over the side of his crisp brown hair and guffawed.

  He was kidding. Jake was starting to suspect that Murphy had a sense of humour he couldn’t quite grasp, though he was willing to work at it in order to get along with him for the next two years.

  ‘And what’s it with the nails and strawberries?’ Murphy said.

  ‘I honestly don’t know,’ Jake admitted.

  ‘Do we have any idea who dumped Ms O’Brien in the vineyard?’

  Jake was glad to see Murphy re-engage. ‘We have a lot of leads and we only need one of them to pay off. Anyway, let’s order, hey?’

  As Jake perused the menu he thought about his current line-up of suspects. Although Amelia and Lilith both had motive, it was highly unlikely either of them were involved. Jake would do his due diligence and check Lilith’s alibi to ensure she hadn’t somehow discovered her origins and returned to Dunton to kill Ava O’Brien … she certainly had reason to, but there were no indications that she was involved or that her interaction with him earlier today had been a performance.

  Turning the page from entrées to mains, Jake reasoned that Charlotte was probably in the clear as well. She lacked any apparent motive for attacking Ava. It was remotely possible she had discovered the abuse Ava had subjected her foster sisters to and sought revenge, but Jake doubted it.

  Could it have been Liam O’Brien? His reaction to seeing Ava’s hand in the morgue said no, but it was also possible that he was acting.

  Jake needed to keep digging. He wondered again if Lilith was dumped in Melbourne because of the pregnancy. He was going to have to ask Amelia if she had also become pregnant while at the home, and that was not going to be a pleasant conversation for anyone.

  But it was also tomorrow’s problem. For now, Jake signalled to the waiter that they were ready to order.

  Deciding to make up for the numerous skipped meals and packets of instant noodles that had constituted his diet for the last week, Jake ordered a four-course meal of a truffled gnocchi entrée, followed by a mushroom risotto, then cheese, several glasses of a good sav blanc and a rich chocolate dessert to finish. For the first time in what felt like forever he ate far more than was good for him, enjoying the moment of calm in the maelstrom of monstrous adults and mutilated children.

  *

  Evelyn had apparently chosen to do some shopping in an outlet mall after dropping Jake and Murphy at the airport the previous day and had spent the night in a nearby motel. She wasn’t Jake’s ideal chauffeur.

  ‘I need to stop at the hospital before we head back,’ he said to her.

  ‘It’s a waste of time trying to talk to the MacDonald girl again,’ Evelyn said sourly.

  Jake chose not to reply.

  ‘It’s not that, he’s got …’

  He silenced Murphy with a scowl.

  Jake was missing the professionalism of Melbourne already. As it so happened, he was going to see Amelia again, but he needed to stop by the path lab first.

  *

  ‘Ah ha!’ Meena Gill said as she opened her lab door for Jake. ‘Rumour has it you have something for me?’

  ‘I have a possible lead … sort of.’ He pulled a sealed sample bag from his backpack and held it up.

  ‘I’m looking at …?’

  ‘A small piece of a dried umbilical cord that’s about a decade old, from one of the girls who lived at the home Ava O’Brien ran.’

  ‘Does this relate to the blood sample the Melbourne lab called about this morning?’

  ‘If the blood sample is Lilith Haverstock’s, yes. This cord is from a child she says she gave birth to.’

  ‘I’d better get to it, then. The Melbourne lab has given this top priority.’

  The power of guilt, Jake thought. ‘I hope it makes a difference,’ he said. ’How fast can you tell me if Liam O’Brien is the father?’

  Meena tapped one finger on her chin, lost in thought. ‘I’ve already run some basic analyses on the sample he gave us for elimination purposes.’

  O’Brien had given that sample without hesitation. Was that another indication he wasn’t involved in Ava’s death, or that he was supremely confident he had left no trace?

  ‘Could you run something basic straight away?’ Jake tried not to sound too pleading.

  Mee
na tapped her chin once more. ‘If you give me an hour I might be able to at least tell you if I’m going to be able to use this sample. It’s old and may be too degraded or contaminated for me to extract anything useful.’

  ‘Whatever you can do.’

  ‘At this rate you’re going to owe me dinner, Detective Hunter.’

  Jake’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  Meena waved her hands apologetically. ‘Oh, my mistake.’

  Jake took a moment to reorient. ‘No, not at all, just unexpected.’ He smiled tentatively. ‘It’s a debt … uh, date.’

  The warm, glowing cloud that enveloped Jake as he entered the lift to ascend to the general ward meant it took him three attempts to hit the right button for Amelia’s floor.

  ‘How are you feeling after yesterday?’ Jake asked Amelia as he settled on to the visitor’s chair beside her bed.

  ‘Better. Let’s continue the interview.’

  The Amelia that Jake had first met in her lounge room several days earlier had returned. She was firm and in control.

  ‘I was asking you about your fingernails,’ he said. ‘Was anything done to them the first time you were attacked?’

  She looked startled. ‘You know there was a second time?’

  ‘I suspect.’

  ‘My hands weren’t touched the first time.’

  ‘How was the second time different?’

  She swallowed, her eyes brimming. ‘Ms O’Brien went on one of her trips a few months before Mum came to claim me.’

  ‘Did she go every year?’

  ‘Usually, mostly around Christmas.’

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘I woke up in pain but didn’t know why again. But this time the pain was inside, not outside, if you understand?’

  ‘I think I do.’

  Amelia flapped her hands. She was becoming distressed.

  ‘There was blood again, a lot of blood, but this time the pain was more like something having been broken. Like a broken bone.’

  That raised a question Jake had never thought to ask. ‘Amelia, did you ever break a bone? An arm or a leg?’

  ‘Both my arms, at different times.’

  She held them out—they looked straight.