by Vicki Tyley
With something close to relief in his eyes, he smiled down at her.
“Now about this press conference,” she said, before he could say anything else. “Since I won’t be there, how about a sneak preview? Off the record, of course,” she added.
“First, I have to know what your interest in this case is. If you remember, you told me that you’d given up on journalism as a career.”
“Of course I remember,” she snapped, annoyed by his oblique insinuation that she might have been making up stories. “I only came out here as a favour to my old editor. And yes, I have a personal interest, too, as you very well know. Narelle Croswell is a friend.”
He laughed. “Keep your hair on. I do have something I can share with you. I’ve just found out about it myself, so don’t go thinking I’ve been keeping it back just to annoy you.” He then proceeded to tell her what she had already picked up while eavesdropping.
“What about the bones you found today? Is it possible they could be Kirsty Edmonds’?” Although the skeletal remains found a week ago had proved not to be Narelle’s sister, it didn’t rule out the possibility that she had been a victim of the same killer.
“Anything’s possible, but she’s only one of many possibilities. You know as much as I do. And Jacinta…” His face was serious.
“Yes?”
He grinned. “We also found kangaroo bones.”
CHAPTER 30
When the two little, round faces appeared in the downstairs window of the flat-roofed, brick two-storey house, Jacinta’s heart did a flip, the bottle of Pinot Noir almost slipping from her grip. Trying hard to smile, she lifted her hand, waggling her fingers in a timid wave. The two dark-haired boys continued to stare at her until the taller one, poking out his tongue, pulled the other back from the window. She laughed but it came out more like a snort.
“Ready, then?” asked Brett, taking the bottle of wine from her hands.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Reminiscent of her first date, her stomach had been in knots from the minute Daniel had invited her and Brett to dinner. And like that date, she didn’t know what to expect. But unlike that date, she had Brett there for moral support. Taking a deep breath, she took a step forward before looking down at her hands. “Oh shit! I’ve forgotten the flowers.”
“You mean these flowers,” Brett said, tilting his head at the large bunch of brightly coloured gerberas nestling in the crook of his left arm.
She sighed, feeling some of the tension ease from her body. “Thanks, Brett,” she whispered as she took the flowers from him. “What would I do without you?”
Giving her an encouraging smile, he opened the low iron gate and waved her through. Before she had a chance to change her mind, the Lassiter family’s front door opened. Daniel’s broad frame filled the narrow doorway, the two faces from the window now peeking out from behind his jean-clad legs.
Jacinta swallowed hard and took a step and then another. Feeling like she was wearing boots of concrete, she made her way up the short path to the house. As Daniel stepped forward, she thrust the bunch of flowers at him, warding off any physical contact.
Brett frowned and then, with a sidelong glance at Jacinta, extended his hand to Daniel. “Brett Rhodes.”
She had forgotten that even though Brett and Daniel knew of each other, they had never actually met. Mortified by her lapse in etiquette, she interjected with a hasty introduction.
Then it was Daniel’s turn. “This,” he said, planting his free hand on top of the older boy’s head, “is Flynn, and this young rascal,” he stepped sideways, twisting to reveal the toddler clinging to his leg, “is Liam.”
Jacinta guessed Flynn’s age at around four or five years old, with Liam twelve to eighteen months younger. Both boys had inherited their father’s wide mouth and wavy dark hair, but Flynn’s deep brown eyes were in stark contrast to the startling blue of his younger brother’s. Daniel’s broad grin and the way his face softened when he looked at his sons revealed one proud father.
“Come through. Wendy’s in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to the salad, and then it’s over to me.”
Jacinta’s eyes widened. She hadn’t imagined her stepbrother would cook. His father certainly never had.
“I’m no gourmet chef,” Daniel said, laughing at her expression, “but I can burn sausages on the barbie with the best of them.”
As they followed him through the air-conditioned house, Jacinta unconsciously looked for clues to the sort of man he had become. The sparsely but elegantly furnished formal lounge room at the front of the house had an empty feeling to it, as if merely for show. The real home lay beyond.
Daniel led them toward the back of the house in the direction in which the boys had scampered. Over the light jazz playing in the background, she heard the rat-a-tat-tat of a knife against board. The chopping paused, the soft tones of a woman’s voice mingling with little boy laughs and squeals.
An entire wall in the expansive open-plan living area had been devoted to framed family photographs and collages of crayon and paint artworks. Under a window, the artists busied themselves, emptying a massive wooden box crammed with every toy imaginable.
Wendy Lassiter, her glossy auburn hair loosely tied back from her face, joined them just as a tug of war with a miniature red plastic guitar looked to be developing. She stepped in, rescuing the toy from imminent destruction and, with a grin as broad as her husband’s, turned to Jacinta. “I’m so pleased you could make it. Isn’t it wonderful that you and Daniel have found each other again after all this time?”
Jacinta stretched her mouth into what she hoped was a convincing smile and murmured something about a small world. Even though she had no reason to do so, she felt ill at ease. She looked to Brett for back-up, but he and Daniel were already deep in conversation about football.
Wendy’s warm fingers grazed the back of Jacinta’s hand. “It’s okay, I know how hard this must be for you,” she whispered, her voice soft and caressing. “Drinks time, I think.”
Accepting a chilled glass of white wine, Jacinta placed another mental tick next to Daniel’s name. Not only did he have a family that so obviously adored him, he also didn’t keep secrets from his wife. She leaned against the bench, sipping the wine, and watched as Wendy squeezed oranges. Unless she had been told, Jacinta would have never realised Wendy was pregnant, her loose white linen shirt and short denim skirt covering the slight swelling.
Wendy’s bump brought Narelle to mind. How was she coping? How had she and Craig taken the news that the human remains weren’t Kirsty’s? Not wanting to crowd her, Jacinta had left it up to Narelle to contact her. However, with no word in two days, Jacinta decided the time limit on her good intentions was up. Phone call or no phone call, she intended visiting her the next day.
As Wendy poured the freshly squeezed orange juice into one glass and two plastic tumblers, two pairs of small hands appeared out of nowhere from below the kitchen bench, spiriting away the tumblers on offer.
With cold beers in hand and ensconced in two large Aztec-patterned armchairs near the toy box, Brett and Daniel’s animated discussion continued unabated. Another tick? Brett certainly seemed to be getting on with Daniel. Leaving them to it, Jacinta followed Wendy outside to the rear brick-paved courtyard.
Under the vine-covered pergola, sipping her wine and soaking in the late summer balminess, Jacinta soon found her guard relaxing. Wendy did most of the talking, her passion for both her job as a legal aid solicitor and her family evident. Making no mention of the past, she asked open-ended questions, allowing Jacinta to reveal as little or as much as she cared to.
Daniel announced his arrival as, balancing a large square earthenware dish piled high with raw meat and sliced onion rings in one hand and a beer in the other, he pushed through the swing door from the kitchen. ‘Help Wanted’ declared the big, bold, white letters splashed across the front of his long, blue apron. Jacinta couldn’t help smiling. If the crew tagging along behind him —
consisting of Flynn carrying a pair of tongs, Liam with a plastic spoon, and Brett with a six-pack of beer — was anything to go by, he needed more than help.
The wine, together with the warm evening air, on top of her pent-up stress, soon went to Jacinta’s head. By the time dinner was nearly ready, she felt flushed and decidedly tiddly. Excusing herself, she went in search of the bathroom.
Vowing to switch to water, she sat down on the toilet and closed her eyes. She savoured the chilled air-conditioned air and took long, slow breaths. She heard footsteps, Daniel’s voice and then a door closing. Instinctively, she pressed her ear up against the wall, clearly hearing her stepbrother’s side of a phone conversation.
“Are you sure?”
Pause.
“Yes, well, that’s not enough. We need to be 110 percent sure on this one. Pull all the old case notes and check his statements again. Look for anything that might link him to these murders, but I don’t want him alerted. Not yet.”
A longer pause.
“So ballistics are confident that the two bullets recovered could lead to the identity of the weapon used?”
Another pause.
“Okay. Keep me updated.”
Jacinta held her breath, waiting until she could no longer hear footsteps before opening the door, and walking straight into Daniel. She averted her gaze, her face flushing as she tried to dodge him.
He caught her by the shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “Once a journalist, always a journalist?”
“It’s not like that,” she said, shaking her head. “I was already in the bathroom, and the walls are so thin…”
Daniel sighed and dropped his hands from her shoulders. “You’re right. I’d forgotten you had come inside when I got the call. However–” he took a breath, “what you overheard is highly confidential and can’t leave these four walls. Do you understand that?”
Jacinta nodded, even though since no names had been mentioned, she wasn’t entirely sure who or what the conversation had been about. She still hadn’t processed everything Daniel had been saying on the phone.
Bullets.
Old case notes.
Statements.
Murders – plural…
Her heart skipped a beat. “You were talking about Craig Edmonds, weren’t you?”
With his hand covering his mouth, he scrutinized her face, as if searching for a way into her mind.
“You’ve already sworn me to secrecy. Would you rather I speculate?”
Daniel lowered his hand. “Is that something they teach journalists, or does it come naturally?”
“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, what am I supposed to think? You haven’t denied it was Craig you were talking about…” She left the words hanging.
“You don’t want to get mixed up in this, Jacinta. Personal feelings can’t come into it. Until we’ve completed our investigations, I strongly suggest you keep your distance from the Edmondses.”
She straightened her back, her stance defiant. “Not unless you can give me a damned good reason. I’m certainly not going to abandon my friend just on your say-so.”
One eyebrow arched. “I admire your loyalty, but you’re just going to have to take my word for it.”
“What if I were to tell you that Kirsty Edmonds had a lover?”
“More motive.”
“What?”
“Jealousy.” Lowering his voice, he caught her by the arm, steering her from the hall into an immaculate book-lined study. “Anyway, who is this lover you’re talking about, and where did you get your information?” he said, releasing her and closing the door.
“From the horse’s mouth,” she said, only answering the second half of his question. Sometimes information had to be bartered.
With a low groan, Daniel plonked down onto the black leather swivel chair behind the polished mahogany desk. “I’m not the enemy, you know. Surely you want to see the killer – or killers – brought to justice as much as I do.”
“You’re starting to sound like Grace.”
“Grace who?”
“Grace Kevron, Kirsty’s lover.”
He stood up. “Okay, out with it. Tell me everything, and I mean everything, and I’ll tell you what I can.” He paused and added, “Strictly on the condition it goes no further than this room, though.”
“You’re on,” she said, glancing at the door, “but the others must be wondering where we’ve got to.”
With that, there was a light knock on the door and Wendy entered. “Oh, I’m sorry; I hope I haven’t interrupted anything. I thought Daniel must’ve got caught up in that phone call and lost track of time.”
Daniel laughed, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “You know me too well. We’re coming right now.” Turning his head to Jacinta, he said, “We’ll continue this later. Agreed?”
The three of them returned to the courtyard to find Brett on his hands and knees with Flynn astride his back. Liam had hold of his brother’s leg, trying to pull him off. In amidst the arms, legs, giggles and giddy-ups, Brett seemed in his element.
Bracing herself for all the baby hints he would inevitably drop in the next week or so, Jacinta reclaimed her seat at the table. The delicious aroma of char-grilled meat and caramelised onions wafted out from under the sheet of aluminium foil covering the large serving platter at the end of the table. A glass bowl overflowing with crisp green mesclun leaves and cherry tomatoes took centre stage.
While Wendy busied herself cutting sausages into small, manageable pieces for the boys, Daniel served the adults, heaping enough meat onto each plate to make Jacinta think she was at a carnivore’s party. After that, with everyone more intent on eating than talking, conversation became rather limited.
Jacinta had a mouthful of steak when Daniel’s mobile phone buzzed, breaking the rhythmic clank of metal cutlery against plates. She stopped chewing, looking up as Daniel scraped his chair back, excused himself and went inside.
“You get used to it,” Wendy said, with a forced laugh. “Off-duty is not in Daniel’s vocabulary. Anyone for a top-up?”
Two phone calls in less than an hour. Jacinta swallowed, absent-mindedly slicing a cherry tomato into tiny eighths as she wondered what the new developments in the Toolangi State Forest case might be. Craig Edmonds had to be involved somehow. Why else had Daniel warned her off? She felt the blood drain from her face as an image of Narelle’s trusting face flashed through her mind.
A well-placed kick under the table from Brett to her shin brought her abruptly back to the present. Wendy was talking, but Jacinta caught only the tail end.
“…start Monday?”
Jacinta smiled and nodded, hoping it was the appropriate response to whatever the question had been. Stuffing a forkful of rocket leaves into her mouth circumvented any obligation to elaborate. But she needn’t have worried. A frustrated yowl from a restless Liam trying to wriggle out of his chair demanded all of Wendy’s attention.
Across the table, Brett lowered and raised his eyebrows, making faces at her.
“What?” she mouthed back, her eyes widening in feigned innocence.
Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes and picked up the opened bottle of Pinot Noir, topping up the wine glasses before meeting her gaze again. She pursed her lips, sending him an air kiss. The corners of his mouth twitched before lifting in a slow grin.
“Sorry about that,” announced Daniel, the kitchen door slamming shut behind him. “That should be it for the night,” he continued, glancing at his cold, half-eaten meal as he crouched down to see the picture book Flynn wanted to show him.
Wendy intervened, enlisting Brett’s aid to read a bedtime story to the two boys as she hustled them away from the table. Jacinta knew it was Wendy’s way of making sure stepsister and stepbrother spent personal time together. Right then, though, Jacinta was more interested in Daniel’s work than their relationship.
Daniel ate. She talked, telling him everything she knew about Grace Kevron, startin
g from what she had picked up in the trial transcript, to Grace’s over-the-top reaction to Craig and Narelle’s marriage, to her demented phone calls, to her unannounced visit when she claimed she and Kirsty had been lovers, and finally to Grace’s presence at the crime scene.
When she had finished, she sat back in her chair. Daniel continued forking cold sausage and steak into his mouth, saying nothing for a while. Eventually, he laid his knife and fork down together on the plate and pushed it aside.
He propped his elbows on the table and crossed his arms. “What were you thinking, leaving it until now to tell me?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I don’t have to tell you that the police don’t look favourably on people who withhold vital information.”
He silenced her unvoiced objections with a raised finger.
“What’s done is done, but for God’s sake, remember we’re talking life and death here, Jacinta. It’s not a bloody game.” He sighed. “And while it may be nothing, it could also mean the difference between a killer being caught and a killer getting away with it.” Again, his half-closed eyes added silently.
“Look, I understand where you’re coming from, but you have to see it from my point of view, too. Initially, I was just following up on an old missing person’s story. The trial transcript led me to Grace, but after I met her, I didn’t know what to believe. She’s not exactly all there. I didn’t want to be accused of wasting police time.”
Whether Daniel believed her motives or not didn’t matter. She had fulfilled her side of the bargain.
CHAPTER 31
Jacinta ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at the roots. Daniel, she discovered, had the art of saying a lot without revealing much of anything down pat. “I’m confused. You’re telling me that DNA tests showed the remains weren’t Kirsty Edmonds; that no firearms are, or have ever been registered, to Craig Edmonds; and that in fact you have nothing linking the Toolangi bodies with him. Yet you’re rechecking all the old Edmonds case notes.”