by D. L. Hicks
Crashing through the doorway, Charlotte could not believe her eyes. Resting on the near corner of the desk was Dash, his pants bunched around his ankles, his hands in the dark hair of the woman kneeling in front of him. For a split second they were oblivious to her presence.
Then Dash opened his eyes and saw her.
‘Fuck!’ he yelled, pushing the woman aside. He wrenched his pants back into place, buckling and zipping up as if his life depended on it, his face glowing redder by the second.
The woman was much more composed; she simply stood upright and turned to face Charlotte, smoothing out some creases in her dress.
‘Oh my God,’ Charlotte stammered, her mind reeling. ‘You have got to be kidding me.’
Katelyn McBride smiled at her as she took a seat on the edge of the desk, ignoring the fuss Dash was making behind her.
‘I can explain,’ Dash said, his hands shaking. ‘It’s not what it looks like … Well it is, but—’
‘I don’t need to know.’ Charlotte remained framed in the doorway, still shaking her head in shock. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, as if stumbling across this liaison meant more than it seemed to. Criminal? Absolutely not. Unethical? Perhaps, although they were two consenting adults. Inappropriate? Without a doubt.
Suddenly Katelyn’s journalistic ability to sniff out a story with minimal effort didn’t seem so baffling.
‘It’s not what you think, Charlotte,’ Dash said, sitting back in his chair, his face ashen. ‘You’re not going to believe this, but it’s the truth. I never meant for this to happen – and I know that’s the oldest line in the book, but it’s true. To be honest, it started out as a motivational tool; something to help you guys out with your cases, that’s all.’
‘Help us out with our cases?’ Charlotte almost laughed out. ‘How the hell did you figure that?’
Dash sat forward, his elbows resting on the desk, and buried his head in his hands. ‘It’s a small town, and people talk. That’s how we get our information – some useful, some not, but it all comes from gossip, and nothing generates buzz more than the media. Whether we like it or not, Katelyn’s articles get people talking, and loose lips mean info comes our way. You know how it works.’
‘So, what, you just ply her with info, whatever she wants, whenever she wants?’ Charlotte felt her indignation rise and placed her hands on her hips. ‘All that case-sensitive, private material given up in exchange for a blow job? Is that really what you’ve become?’
Dash ran his fingers through his thinning hair. ‘You know me better than that, Charlotte; I’m not that type of guy.’
She glared at him. ‘Well after what I just saw, I’d beg to differ. But why would you do that? I don’t get it.’
He scraped his hands down his face, stretching the skin like a Halloween mask. ‘It was innocent in the beginning – we were struggling with that armed robbery a few years ago, you remember? Katelyn had a meeting with me and we came up with a mutually beneficial understanding – I fed her the info we needed to progress the job and she got the big story. We got the scoop we needed within days and made the arrests. It was a win–win. After that, one thing led to another until we ended up here.’
There was no excuse for his behaviour. Charlotte was furious, and the silence from Katelyn only compounded her rage.
‘It didn’t happen all the time,’ Dash continued, only digging his grave deeper. ‘Just when things were stagnating, y’know? If I thought we were struggling, I’d give Katelyn a call; try to mix things up a bit. Keep the pressure on, resharpen the focus. Everyone needs that once in a while.’
‘And what about you?’ Charlotte said, turning on Katelyn. ‘Nothing to say for yourself? What about all that stuff you said about girl power?’
‘I’m just doing my job, Charlotte,’ Katelyn said coolly. ‘Whatever it takes. That’s why I’m at the top of my game. Being ruthless in my line of work isn’t just an asset, it’s a necessity – especially when you’re a woman. You should understand that more than most. I’m taking back some power, that’s all. Playing by my rules for once. And besides, he goes okay so I’d probably do it for nothing, truth be told.’
‘You two deserve each other,’ Charlotte countered, but her resolve was wavering. As she strode from the room, consoled by the fact that at least her dignity remained intact, she had never felt so alone.
Slamming the door behind her, she took a second to assess the mayhem her life had become. Going through breast cancer and chemotherapy, no closer to finding the culprit in the biggest case of her career, her work partner and her brother both live suspects in that case, and now her boss was selling out information to the media in exchange for sex.
Surely enough was enough?
CHAPTER 37
It was going to be easy this time – not that the others hadn’t been easy, but this one was so simple it was ridiculous.
How dare that priest try to turn this around onto him? Defiant old bastard. But he’d understand soon – better than anyone.
As he sat in the driver’s seat, engine idling, the doubt started to rise again. It had been like this his whole, lonely adult life. But he knew what he had to do, as much as he may not want to. This was bigger than him, and he was beholden to all the children who had already been hurt, as well as all those precious ones who didn’t realise what was in their future, coming to strike them down. If he could prevent that, he would take the chance.
He was parked outside the Motivation Factory, in the last spot of the gym’s rear car park. It was the perfect venue to carry out his plans with minimal chance of detection. Given that the town’s population wasn’t massive to start off with, the number of fitness fanatics was small. He was surprised, given the hysteria that now gripped the town, that it hadn’t closed. That would’ve been the safest thing to do, but as usual, common sense didn’t play a huge part in day-to-day life. The dollar ruled and if people had paid for a service, they expected to get it.
No murderer is going to stop me exercising, he could almost hear the fitness obsessed muttering.
He sat low in his seat and watched as they came and went, men and women in their tight clothing, muscles rippling, sweat beaded down their backs. His dark tinted windows rendered him almost invisible to anyone passing by, a bag tucked under his seat at the ready.
Vehicles came and went until only his and one other remained – a small Hyundai hatch, Fanta orange, belonging to a petite brunette who had yet to return to her car. He could see her through the gym’s large glass doors, pounding out kilometre after kilometre on the treadmill, her iPod blasting into her ears as she ran.
Evening fell, and as the light outside faded, the lights inside the gym became brighter. The windows were reflective, but the doors were not. Finally, she began walking in the direction of the exit, wiping her face with a towel. She scooped up her drink bottle and headed out the doors, making her way towards her car. How could she be so stupid?
It was pitch black now. The golden streetlights were lit, but their glow didn’t extend to the car park. There were no CCTV cameras on the external walls of the premises, other than the one positioned over the entry doors – something he’d made certain of.
He stepped from his vehicle, bag in hand.
The woman crossed the car park, pulling her hair back into a ponytail that she fumbled around with, securing it as she walked. Arms up, stomach taut, vulnerable and completely unaware.
‘Evening,’ he said as he approached her.
‘Hi.’ She glanced up at him before tilting her head down to finish tying her hair.
Whack.
He punched her in her exposed solar plexus with such force that the air rushed from her lungs and collided with his cheek. She crumpled to the ground, eyes wide with shock.
Standing over her in the darkness, he stared down as she struggled for breath, like a fish that had flipped itself out of its tank and now found itself wallowing on the kitchen floor in a puddle of water far too shallow to
survive in.
He knelt down and twisted her like an oversized ragdoll, bending her into the shape he wanted without any resistance. ‘Just relax,’ he said, slinging her up and over his shoulder like a bag of spuds. He flung open the back-passenger door and shoved her inside. After securing her wrists and ankles with cable ties, he shoved a handkerchief in her mouth and ran electrical tape around her head several times, lodging it in position. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine.
He had done it again.
This time Father Callaghan would get the message loud and clear. And hopefully, he might catch a glimpse of what it had been like for him the last couple of decades – to wrestle so hard with yourself it was exhausting even to keep your head above water.
With a bit of luck, he might just drown in the process.
CHAPTER 38
Charlotte was exhausted. Not only had the effects of the day’s developments with both J.D. and Dash begun to take their toll, but the nausea had set right in to the point where she had to have a bucket at the ready next to the couch on which she now lay. She still hadn’t heard from J.D., despite leaving several messages pleading for him to call her. In short, it had been a day straight from hell.
It was getting late but she couldn’t sleep, even though she was so tired she could barely hold her head up. As soon as she closed her eyes, her mind raced. Even the jigsaw – one of her few delights in life at the moment – had beaten her. Four pieces was all she had managed before the urge to lie down had overcome her. This level of fatigue was something new. Worse than three nightshifts in a row. In winter.
She had spoken to Jack earlier in the night, a much-needed chat where they had cleared the air after the awkwardness of their ‘almost-sex’. They’d only exchanged some perfunctory text messages since that night, and Charlotte was relieved the ice had melted. But despite things being back to normal, she still needed some alone time, so she’d explained to Jack that she seemed to be coming down with the flu and that it was best he stayed away. Of course, after all that, he wanted to visit and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Reluctantly, she had agreed to him coming over, even though it was late. He had told her he would be there before midnight just to ‘drop by and say hello’. She couldn’t think of anything worse, but knew she had to accept. As bad as she felt, she wanted to make things right.
She lay on the couch, blanket pulled up to her chin. Oscar was nestled in beside her, purring like a well-serviced Porsche. Even though she felt like shit, she knew life could be worse – she could be Joseph.
Or J.D.
Or Dash.
She had seen her brother on the news and the shock of it had made her breath catch. He had looked so old, as fragile as she had ever seen him. Murder allegations, arrested by his sister, then assaulted in his own church. Now that was a bad week. It seemed the Callaghans had done something to piss off the gods somewhere along the line.
The doorbell rang, startling Oscar from his comfortable position. He arched his back as he stood on all fours, snarling in the direction of the front door, his sandpaper tongue protruding out from his jaw-breaking yawn. Like his owner, he didn’t want to be disturbed.
Charlotte rose and shuffled her way across the lounge room, her feet dragging and her head throbbing. The bell rang again before she got to the door, reverberating in her brain. What had she been thinking, agreeing to this? She just needed to get it over with – placate him, do the right thing, and then see him on his way.
Opening the door, she saw the look of surprise on Jack’s face – he obviously hadn’t been prepared for what chemo did to a person. Perhaps because he didn’t know she was going through it. Guilt shot through her as she held on to the door handle for support. Maybe it was time to tell him. ‘Come in – don’t get too close though, yeah?’
‘Jeepers, you don’t look the best.’
No shit, Sherlock.
He stepped in and hugged her before standing back as if concerned she was going to infect him with the black plague. He raised a finger from each hand and made the shape of a crucifix, warding off the vampire. If he’d had a garlic necklace, Charlotte was sure he’d be wearing it – which would’ve been an improvement on the grey scarf he had wrapped around his neck. At times his fashion sense was more George Michael than George Clooney.
‘A scarf, really?’ Charlotte asked, nudging him in the ribs as she flicked out her other hand, unsuccessfully trying to snatch it. ‘Trying to hide a love bite from your other girlfriend, are you?’
Jack evaded her prying hands, weaving boxer-like. ‘As if one girlfriend isn’t enough for me – especially a crook one like you. Now get back on that couch and I’ll make you a cuppa.’
Momentarily buzzed from the girlfriend label, Charlotte trundled back to the couch and flopped onto it as Jack strode into the kitchen, making himself at home. Normally she would’ve loved the intrusion, but right now, she just wanted it over with, fast.
‘How long have you felt like this, Charls?’ he called from the kitchen, trying to make himself heard over the drone of the coffee machine.
‘Most of the day,’ she said, lying her head back on the cushions. ‘It’s just one of those things.’
‘One of those things?’ Jack said, doubtfully. ‘You’ve been sick on and off for weeks now – months even. You work too hard, I’ve told you that. You need a few weeks off, maybe a holiday somewhere, away from all this crap.’
Charlotte blinked as tears unexpectedly pricked her eyes. She hated lying to him, and she knew the time was coming when she had to tell him the truth. This was a battle she had been prepared to fight on her own, and she’d always thought confiding in Jack would only make things worse. He would cry, she would cry, he would mollycoddle her and tell her she had to quit her job and focus on her health. Then the true reality of her situation – and her mortality – would only slap her in the face even harder. Up until now, she had felt as though she had at least some control over her destiny – whatever that might entail. But it was time to relinquish that control.
‘Yeah, maybe you’re right.’ She pictured Hawaii in her mind. Waikiki Beach at sunset, gentle waves lapping the shore, grass skirt, sipping a cocktail directly from a coconut. If only.
‘One sugar or none tonight?’ He closed the fridge door and stood in the doorway holding the milk.
‘I’m sweet enough tonight,’ she answered. ‘And just black will be perfect, thanks.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Hey, when you’re finished, there’s something I need to talk to you about,’ she said as he walked back into the kitchen. Just at that moment, her phone buzzed. She grabbed it off the coffee table, secretly relieved at the interruption. It was J.D. at last. She answered it on speaker, too exhausted to hold the phone to her ear. Jack re-entered the room and she motioned for him to keep quiet.
‘J.D.? I’m so glad you called.’
She was met with silence. Her concern grew. Was this the moment J.D.’s secret life and his real world collided?
Then he cleared his throat. ‘Don’t read more into this than you should,’ he said, his voice wavering. ‘I’m calling as a professional courtesy only. Nothing more.’
‘Okay …’ Charlotte said warily, feeling her heart lodge in her throat. Jack had a quizzical look on his face, unaware of the dynamic that had crystallized between her and her partner earlier. ‘Whatever you want, J.D. – I’m just glad you’re okay,’ she said, holding back on the whole Dash scenario until he had gotten everything off his chest.
‘Right,’ he mumbled. ‘Whatever. Anyway, I only called to tell you there’s been a development in the case – that’s if you’re still interested and haven’t already convicted me for it.’
Charlotte knew J.D. was hurt. But if he’d been playing the game this whole time, how was she to know this wasn’t an act too? He seemed genuinely wounded, but the line between what was real and what wasn’t had become so blurred, words alone weren’t going to bring things into focus.
; ‘Are you sitting down?’ J.D. asked. ‘Because you’re not going to like what I’ve got to say.’
At this point, there wasn’t much else Charlotte was capable of other than sitting or lying. She looked nervously at Jack, hoping she wasn’t about to let him in on something she shouldn’t. By the look on his face, he was enjoying the voyeurism of it all.
‘I’m sitting. What have you got then?’ she said.
‘Well, it’s about Joseph. You saw him on the news – about the assault?’
‘Yeah, I did,’ she answered hesitantly, not sure where this was going. ‘I thought he looked pretty bad actually – very tired, almost beaten down.’ She felt another wave of sadness wash over her at what her brother was being forced to endure, developments she seemed powerless to stop.
‘I agree,’ J.D. replied. ‘But there may be another reason for that. Not long after that news segment I received a call at the station about it – well, not exactly about that, more about Joseph himself than the actual assault. I was going to tell you earlier, but then you … Well, anyway, it seems that someone recognised him.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Charlotte said, still confused. ‘Most people in the town know his face.’
‘Yeah, well that’s the problem. The guy I spoke to remembers him from somewhere else. Look, there’s no easy way to break this to you, so I’m just going to say it – this person is alleging a series of historic child sexual assaults that occurred on church premises back in the eighties, and he’s adamant Joseph was one of the offenders – that he was there when it all happened.’
Charlotte reached for the phone, before she realised it was too late and withdrew her hand sharply, as if she’d rested it on a hotplate. Her heart raced as another impossible burden came crashing down on her. When was it all going to stop?
Joseph – one of those priests? You’re fucking kidding me.
She was struggling to breathe. Surely this was a joke – someone just out to get him.