by J. M. Peace
It was Roy Hegarty. He'd tracked her down, followed her up here and was now going to take revenge on her, on a small wooden lookout at the edge of a cliff. Her heart hammered in her chest as if it was trying to burst free.
He was still several metres away, she'd still have bit of a head start on him. But there was no escape. The lookout was the end of the path. If she climbed over the railing, she'd be dicing with death on the rocky edge of the cliff.
"Holy crap," the man gasped. At the sound of his voice, the spell was broken. Of course it wasn't Roy.
"I thought those last hundred metres were going to kill me," he said as he reached the edge of the lookout and leant heavily against the first piece of railing. "Get some exercise, my doctor said. You'll feel better for it, he said. Bloody hell. I couldn't feel any worse right now." He looked at Krista, maybe noticing for the first time the way she was staring at him in fear, her back pressed into the back corner of the railing.
He straightened up. "Sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you,” he said. He turned abruptly and disappeared back down the path.
Krista's breath was fast and shallow. It wasn't Roy. He wasn't coming after her. She had done everything she could. Then why was she so terrified of him? Was she going to keep imagining random strangers were Hegarty family members coming to get her?
Should she go and apologise to them? Would this ease the guilt? Look Roy in the eye and say... what? Sorry for what? That she was somewhere in the vicinity when Angus had fractured his skull? Would she be accepting the blame by apologising? ESC had explained it to her. They'd narrowed down when the injury had happened. It was when she was in the station and Mort was alone with Angus. He'd fallen getting out of the pod. There was nothing to suggest it wasn't completely accidental. There was no reason not to believe Mort. All the evidence backed up what he was saying. And he was a nice guy, a good cop.
Krista had a mental image of Hegarty falling out of the back of the pod, crashing on to the concrete. Hegarty's own actions had been the cause of his death. Getting drunk. Taking drugs. Picking a fight. Spitting at a cop. If he had refrained from any one of these things, he may still be alive, nursing a hangover in the cells. If he had only said at the pub, "okay, I've had enough", and walked out, that would have been the end of it.
She was sorry the man died. If she could have done anything to save him, she would have. There was no doubt in her mind. She had a lot to learn about being a copper but she was trying and she took it seriously. But now they'd passed their judgement. She had not completed her job satisfactorily.
They had taken a pay-point off her and blackened her record forever. She should listen to Ben and go back to IT.
Krista leaned forward to look down at the water. It was a drop of maybe twenty metres she reckoned. She picked up a small rock, lobbed it over the edge and watched it plummet. She counted to four before she saw the tiny splash. A second later, the water had settled again and looked like nothing had disturbed it.
She couldn't do this anymore. She wasn't a cop.
59.
Roy and Stan waited nearly half an hour at the front counter of the police station before they were ushered up to the Senior Sergeant's office by one of the junior staff.
Harry Sharpe appeared and followed them into the senior sergeant's office. He shut the door behind them before shaking their hands. There was something about him, the way his chin was tipped up ever so slightly as if he were looking down his nose at them, that rubbed Roy up the wrong way.
There were just enough seats for them. Maybe they should have brought Patricia in. It would have put them off, bustling about trying to jam another seat in the office. She might have made them uncomfortable too. But too late now.
"Take a seat, gentlemen," the Colonel said, gesturing to two of the chairs.
"Firstly, I'm not sure whether I've expressed my condolences to each of you personally." This was directed at Stan. "Can I just reiterate to you both how sorry we all are that this has happened here at our station."
Stan and Roy exchanged glances. No smart arse remarks. Not with the phone on record.
"Yep. Okay. Thanks," Stan said.
"It's been a difficult time here at the station too. This incident has affected many of our staff deeply."
This time it was Roy who spoke. "Yeah. Blah, blah, blah. None of us really believe that, do we? Let's just cut to the chase. I want you to explain to my brother - to Angus's brother - why that cop's not going to get charged?"
"By 'that cop', I take it you mean Senior Constable Morten?" Simon clarified.
"Yeah, Mort."
"Okay. First I want to be clear that Ethical Standards Command who investigated are separate from us. They have no vested interest, nothing. This is their job - to investigate serious incidents from an independent and lawful perspective."
"Yep. But they're still cops, right? I'd call that a 'vested interest'. So that cop's not going to get charged?" Stan repeated.
The Colonel paused, and glanced across to Sharpe.
"ESC has determined that the evidence does not meet the minimum requirements for establishing a prima facie case. There's nothing that suggests the incident didn't happen the way that Constable Morten described it. His version of events is reasonable and everything - the re-enactment, Angus's fatal injury - all match up."
"So he's not getting charged?"
"No."
The word hung in the air and tension gathered around it like a storm cloud. The Colonel's eyes flicked between the two men, as if he was bracing himself for an attack.
Roy and Stan had discussed this. They let the silence brew, waiting to see what else the Colonel said. They were hoping he'd say something stupid not realising he was being recorded.
"Again, I'm sorry for your loss," the Colonel said, cautiously. Sharpe was staring at him as if he was getting ready to start fighting. He hadn't said anything yet. Was the Colonel scared of them? Was Sharpe just there as muscle? Once again, it was the Colonel who felt the need to break the silence.
"Constable Danaher is facing disciplinary action." It was like he was offering that up as some sort of consolation.
"Didn't she do mouth-to-mouth?" Roy asked. "Didn't she try to save our brother?"
"Yes, and so did I incidentally, but..."
"I don't care if she's charged for not following some rule. That made no difference to my brother," Roy said.
"She was found to have been negligent when lodging Angus in the watch house."
"Negligent? What's that even mean? She didn't do anything to him."
"That's precisely the point. But ESC has found that Senior Constable Morten didn't do anything to Angus either. It was an unfortunate accident."
Roy huffed. "Let me get this straight. You believe that poor Angus, trussed up in handcuffs, fell over and the bump on his head killed him. Your cunt-stable..." Roy emphasised the slight mispronunciation, "... who Angus had spat on and wrestled with, didn't give him a helping hand to headbutt the ground?"
"There's nothing at all to suggest that," the Colonel replied.
"Do you know how many times Angus would have fallen over while drunk and bumped his head in his life? And it never killed him until he was at the back of the police station with no one watching," Roy said.
"He was handcuffed. He couldn’t break his fall. The injuries are consistent with that happening," the Colonel said.
"But it's fricken ridiculous," Stan said.
"An analysis of his blood showed a high percentage of alcohol as well as significant amounts of synthetic cannibanoids."
Stan’s head snapped around to look at Roy but he ignored him. Mick could explain that to him later.
"Do you seriously believe that's what happened?" Roy asked.
"It doesn't matter what I believe," the Colonel replied. "What matters is what can be proven in court. There is nothing to support any other version of events than the one given by Senior Constable Morten."
"'Version of events?' See, you even think it'
s a made-up story," Stan said with a sneer.
"That's just the police term we use. I doesn't matter what I think. It's been investigated impartially by investigators who have no personal connections with anyone involved."
"Oh, the 'investigators' who are coppers too?" Stan even used air-quotes.
"What about their cameras?" Roy asked. "You guys record everything. I've seen Mort with a little video thing on his vest. Show us the video."
"I'm happy to show you the footage of the arrest," the Colonel said. "But once Mr Hegarty was in the back of the van, both officers switched off their cameras."
Stan snorted. "Very bloody convenient again."
"Again, there's nothing unusual about that. The officers generally don't leave their cameras running all the time. They switch them on when they attend jobs. As I said, there's footage from the arrest at the pub. I can show you that."
"Actually," Stan turned to the Colonel. "Were both of the coppers there when it happened?" Roy silently congratulated him. He hadn't thought of that.
"No, Constable Danaher was inside the station getting the keys to the watch house."
"Well, that's bloody convenient again, isn't it?" Roy said.
"Too convenient. Sounds very suss to me," Stan added.
"Constable Danaher made a call on the police radio while she was in the station. Staff in the communications room have verified that. There is nothing to suggest she might be lying or that she saw what happened."
"Why didn't Mort wait for the other cop to come out of the station to help him with Angus?" Roy asked.
Roy was sure the copper paused for a half-second longer than necessary before answering.
"That's not unusual and not against any procedure," the Colonel said. "Constable Morten explained that all to the satisfaction of the Ethical Standards Command."
"Well, he needs to explain that to my satisfaction," Roy said, placing his open palm firmly on the desk.
"No, he doesn't," Sharpe replied. Roy turned to look him face on. He heard Stan shuffle his chair a little across the carpet. Neither man flinched.
“Because you are not in charge here,” Sharpe said. “It has been explained to you. It has now been explained to your brother. That’s it now. We’re done here.”
Roy reached to touch his phone in the breast pocket of the shirt he was wearing but there was no way of telling if it was still recording. He turned quickly back towards the Colonel who leaned back as if anticipating a punch.
He cleared his throat. "Gentlemen," he said. "I suggest you get legal advice if you are unhappy with what we've told you."
"Oh, we're unhappy alright," Stan said.
"This is out of our hands locally," the Colonel said. "There's nothing I can do in relation to this. We have discussed with you of the outcome of the investigation. But it was not our investigation."
"I don't think you can even call it an investigation." Roy spat the word out.
"Police investigations aren't about what people might think happened, they need to be solely based on what we can prove to the standard required by the courts. There is nothing we can prove beyond reasonable doubt."
"How would you feel if it was a member of your family?" Roy asked. "Your son. Your daughter." He kept his voice low.
"I would appeal it," the Colonel replied without hesitation. "I would go through the correct channels. The same channels that are open to you. But I'm guessing my son or daughter won't ever find themselves in the watch house."
"The world can be a scary place. You just never know what's going to happen to your kids." Roy kept his voice low.
"Are you threatening me? Are you threatening my family?" The Colonel said, his voice rising.
"No," Roy said. "Forget about it all. We'll sort things out for ourselves."
He motioned to Stan. All four men rose to their feet. Roy didn't wait. He knew the way out.
60.
"Thank god. Where have you been?"
Mort was on his feet the minute Krista walked back in through the door. She stopped in her tracks, staring at him. His voice held the same mix of admonishment and worry that her father's had when she came home late as a teenager. She considered walking back out again. It must have reflected in her face.
"Sorry. I was just worried," he added quickly and his voice was much softer now. How long had he been waiting in the barracks for her to return? She plonked herself on the couch. He sat down again.
"Nobody knew where you were. Your phone kept ringing out. You're under a lot of stress. We thought you might have done something... you know." He paused. "I better let the Colonel know you're okay. Everybody was so worried." He grabbed his phone off the coffee table.
"I didn't think anyone would even notice I was gone," she said in a flat monotone.
Mort looked up from the text he was sending. "Of course we did. Are you okay?" he asked, leaning forward towards her.
She shrugged.
"You're not in any trouble for walking out," he said. "The Colonel's already signed you off on a sick day for the shift. It's okay. Everyone understands."
She shook her head.
"I know they're charging you with misconduct," he said. Was it just Mort who knew already? Or everyone at the station?
"I know you're off the hook," she replied.
"It's not fair. I want to make it up to you," Mort said, softly.
"Why would you need to make it up to me. It was an accident. You didn't do anything," she replied. He gazed at her until she looked away.
"I should have helped you lodge Angus instead of just pissing off to the barracks."
"You had vomit in your boot and spit on your face," she replied, crinkling her nose up at the stupidity of the suggestion.
"He was my responsibility."
"No, he wasn't."
"I arrested him," Mort said.
"No. You were the victim. I was the arresting officer. You said so in the car. And I was the watch house keeper," Krista replied.
"You'd never even been in the watch house. I should have lodged him," Mort insisted.
"I'm a copper too. I'm not a trainee anymore. I've seen it done. It's not that difficult."
"It was too late for him anyway. You couldn't help him. It's not your fault."
"It was my fault. I've got that officially on paper now, straight from ESC."
Mort sighed. He leaned back in the chair and shook his head gently.
"It was a bad idea," Krista said. "It's been a bad idea from the start. I'm not cut out to be a copper."
"Of course you are," Mort replied. "Shit, you've had more happen to you in your first week here than most guys have in their whole service. Just give yourself a break."
"Right from when I started at the academy, I've had this feeling that I just didn't have what it takes. And instead of that feeling easing off once I started on the road, it's got stronger. And that's it now. I'm done. I'm quitting. I'll go across now and give the boss notice." As soon as she said it, Krista felt immediately lighter, as if a crushing weight had been taken off her chest. She knew it was the right decision.
"No. Wait. Let’s talk things through."
"I don't belong here," she said. "I don't belong in the uniform and I don't belong in Tannin Bay."
61.
Krista knocked on the Colonel's open door. For the first time since coming to the station, she felt no apprehension talking to the boss. He looked up from the computer.
"Ah, Krista. Are you feeling better?"
"Yes sir."
"You can have the rest of the shift off. Just put in for a sick day."
"Thank you. But I've just come in to give notice." She was still standing in the doorway.
He regarded her for a moment. Was he going to try to talk her out of it, try to comfort her with assurances that things would get better? She could feel heat creep up her neck towards her cheeks.
"Okay, if that’s what you want," he said, as if it came as no surprise.
She paused. She'd expec
ted something more than that. "Okay then," she replied, because nothing else occurred to her.
"You've got to fill out the Notice of Separation and bring it in for me to sign."
She stared blankly at him. Of course there would be paperwork to complete. It was a bureaucracy.
"There’s a bit of a process. Go to the HR section on the online noticeboard. There's a step-by-step guide. You need to email a number of people and complete a questionnaire before you can generate the actual Notice of Separation. Then you need to print it out and sign it before you bring it up to me. The resignation period won't start until I sign it too and forward on the paperwork."
"Resignation period?" Krista phrased it as a question.
"Yes. Three months. Sworn officers have to give three months notice."
Her face dropped at the thought of this. "I have to stay another three months?" That was outrageous.
"You can take recreation leave if you've got it. But, yes. Three months notice."
Krista estimated she had about four weeks leave owned to her. Two months. It was hardly much better. She'd made the decision. For her, it was over now. It would be a very long two months. Now people would have more reason to ignore her.
"Have you thought this through?" the Colonel asked, making it sound like a demand.
She nodded. Her cheeks burnt.
"It looks like you haven't done your homework. Is it just a knee jerk reaction to your interview with ESC?"
"No," she insisted. "I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I’ve got a job to go to back in Brisbane. I'm resigning."
"There's no coming back," he cautioned.
"I don't want to come back. I don't even want to stay here another three months."
"Well, then you'd best get that form in to me as soon as possible," he said. He turned back to the computer. He clearly had nothing further to say to her.
Krista walked slowly back through the station to the day room, hoping everyone was out on the road. Three months. She should check how much sick leave she had owing.