by Chris Taylor
Colt nodded. “Did they get the plates?”
“Yes, and I ran them through the system. The vehicle came back registered to Rex O’Brien.”
Colt’s heart skipped a beat. “From Butler Street?”
“Yes. At least, that’s the address of the man the vehicle was registered to.”
Colt’s pulse picked up its speed. Why the hell would a truck that belonged to Morgan’s father be submerged in a dam on the edge of town? He was meant to be in Darwin, or at the very least, on his way back home from there. Quiet dread eased into his bloodstream. Something definitely wasn’t right.
“How long do the boys think it’s been there?” he asked.
“Impossible to say at this stage. The patrol unit said they hadn’t seen it before, but it’s possible they missed it on their way around. Apparently the dam’s at least fifty yards away from the road and like I said, the vehicle’s partly submerged. It’s easy to pass it by and not realize it’s there.”
“We’ll need to get onto the Crash Investigation Unit. Those guys will want to take a look. We need to determine whether it’s there because of an accident or if there’s something more sinister involved. Are you sure there’s no one inside?” Colt asked.
His colleague lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “That’s what the general duty guys said, but until we get the truck out of the water, we won’t know for certain. I thought you might like to accompany me and see what we can make of it.”
“Yes, of course,” Colt replied and reached for his keys, his thoughts still on Rex O’Brien and the fact his vehicle apparently had never left town. He didn’t want to think about what it might mean. At least, not yet. Not until he had all the facts. Pushing away from his desk, he followed Jared out the door.
Like Jared had said, the pickup was well concealed amongst the high grasses that hid the stock dam situated at least fifty yards off the edge of the dirt road. It was easy to see why earlier patrols might have missed it, especially if they’d come past in the dark.
Pulling off his boots and socks and rolling up his pants, Colt paddled into the muddy water. The pickup had nosedived into the dam and was buried in the mud up to the chassis. The rear of the vehicle was stuck up in the air. Colt waded through the thigh-deep water and peered through the driver’s window.
Wrenching the door handle, he was relieved when he managed to force it open. A small amount of water had found its way into the floor of the cab. He forced the door closed, but not before he’d had a chance to confirm the vehicle was empty.
He looked up at the sound of an approaching car and was pleased to see members of the Crash Investigation Unit making their way toward him. He’d notified them of the accident en route and had also called for a tow truck.
“What do we have?” Detective Robert Dominic called from his position on the muddy bank.
“2015 model Ford Ranger. No occupants inside,” Colt replied.
“I can’t see any sign of brake marks,” Dominic continued. “Perhaps there was a mechanical fault.”
“The vehicle belongs to Rex O’Brien,” Colt said. “I’m friendly with his daughter. He emailed her recently to say he was on his way back from Darwin. He made no mention of the car he was driving, but his pickup was missing from his garage. His daughter assumed he was in it. So unless the car was stolen and the culprit drove it straight into the dam in an effort to get rid of it, something strange is going on.”
Dominic’s eyebrows rose over Colt’s comment, but he remained silent. Pulling out a digital camera, he began photographing the scene.
“Take a look at this,” Dominic called out.
Colt moved to where the man stood. “What is it?”
“Footprints,” Dominic replied.
Colt squatted and studied the baked-on shoe imprints that had been left in the muddy bank. They came from the direction of the dam and led back up toward the road.
“One set,” he said. “Only one person involved.”
“Yeah,” Dominic replied and took a few more shots.
“We need to take some impressions,” Colt said and Jared offered to go and get some plaster of paris from the car.
Although they were in a rural area with only the slight chance of onlookers passing by, Colt cordoned off the area before mixing up the plaster solution and pouring it into three of the clearest impressions. He was still waiting for it to set when the tow truck pulled up.
Colt waved the driver in, taking care to ensure the truck stayed well out of the way of the footprints and the tire marks the Ranger had made on its way into the dam. Until they’d determined whether it was a crime scene or a simple accident, it was important to preserve any evidence that might be there.
Thirty minutes later, the plaster had turned hard and Colt carefully removed the impressions and slid them into large plastic evidence bags. He’d store them until he knew what was going on and whether they’d be required.
“All right, we’re done here,” Colt said and the tow truck moved into position.
Slowly, the pickup was dragged up out of the mud. When it was clear of the water and unhooked from the truck, Colt strode forward and once again, opened the driver’s door. A sluice of mud and water landed at his feet. It was just as well he hadn’t yet pulled on his socks and boots. He leaned inside and looked around again, checking for anything that might give him a clue about how it had ended up nose down in the water.
The car smelled like the dam, muddy and dank. The pickup was a twin-cab and Colt realized the back seat hadn’t gotten wet. Closing the driver’s door, he opened the back door and noticed the seat was covered in hair. Coarse and pale, it looked like it belonged to a dog. A used cigarette butt had been discarded in the foot well. Two others lay on the back seat. It was fortunate only the front part of the car had been under the water or the items could have been washed away.
Digging around in the pocket of his pants, Colt produced another evidence bag. He tugged on a fresh pair of gloves and collected the cigarette butts. He didn’t know if Morgan’s father smoked, but someone who did had been inside the car. Though as yet there was no proof anything suspicious had occurred, the very fact Rex O’Brien’s vehicle was out there at all was enough to kick Colt’s instincts into high gear.
“What do you think?” Colt asked as the Crash Investigator walked near.
Dominic pursed his lips. “My preliminary thoughts are that the car was deliberately driven into the dam. There are no skid marks, torn vegetation or any other signs that the driver was speeding excessively or made any effort to avoid it. The tire tracks are indicative of a car traveling at moderate speed. Coupled with the fact there are shoe imprints heading away from the water, it’s my guess this truck was stolen and dumped, or the owner did it in an effort to claim insurance.”
“You’re way off with the latter. Rex O’Brien’s a retired lawyer. There’s no way he’s capable of fraud.” The very idea was ludicrous. Colt compressed his lips and a fresh wave of dread stirred in his gut.
“I wonder why it didn’t sink,” Jared mused.
“Not enough water,” Dominic replied. “It’s been an unusually hot and dry summer. The dam’s lower than normal. I can only guess whoever did this underestimated the depth.”
Jared grinned. “Too bad for them.”
Colt wished he could see the funny side. Every time he looked at the pickup, his dread increased. Without replying, he returned to the driver’s side. Squatting on his haunches, he took out a flashlight and ran it slowly up and down the truck’s surfaces.
It was impossible to tell if there had been any blood or other valuable evidence in the front foot wells where the water had lain, but after going over every other square inch of the vehicle, he was forced to concede there was nothing more of interest.
He turned to Jared. “I can’t find any blood stains or any other signs of foul play. I guess it’s possible it was stolen by kids and dumped here. The only thing that concerns me is the owner was apparently last seen i
n this vehicle more than a month ago, headed north. According to his brother and daughter, he’s been traveling through the outback. He’s due home any day.”
“Well, he certainly didn’t go anywhere in the Ranger,” Jared commented with a slight smile.
Colt frowned. A growing sense of unease sidled through his gut. There had been a lot about Rex O’Brien’s sudden decision to travel to places far away that had been unsettling to his daughter, not the least that he hadn’t told her about his plans. From what Colt knew, Morgan and her father were close. His secrecy over his travels didn’t make sense.
Then there were the other things – the laptop and toothbrush left behind, the dog who’d turned up dead, the missing figurines, the long-lost identical twin brother with the criminal record who just happened on the scene and now lived in her father’s home. Colt had been a detective for half a decade and he’d learned to listen to his gut. Right from the outset, something about the scenario had bugged him, but he hadn’t been able to work out exactly what it was.
Now, with Rex’s vehicle discovered abandoned, he couldn’t help but feel something untoward had occurred and he was almost certain foul play was involved. The only logical reason Rex might try to get rid of his truck by running it into a dam was if he wanted to escape his life and not let anyone know… Or if someone else wanted it to appear that way…
But according to Morgan, her dad had been just fine with his life. There had been no mention of getting away before he took off and no reason for him to want to disappear – except, as she said, to work out all the implications of his new-found twin brother. When Colt had first suggested to Morgan that he contact the police in Tennant Creek, he’d also done a routine check of Rex’s financial records to see if he could track him down that way. He’d discovered that although Rex wasn’t a millionaire, he was far from struggling.
In Colt’s experience, the majority of people who wanted to disappear from their normal life had debt collectors hounding them on every corner and no way of coming out on top. Rex didn’t appear to be in that category and Colt was at a loss to explain why his vehicle had been found abandoned on the outskirts of Armidale when it should have been many miles from there.
He had a terrible suspicion Rex O’Brien was nowhere near Darwin. In fact, even though he had no proof other than the truck, Colt’s gut told him the man had never left town and if that were so, where the hell was he? Even more troubling was the thought of telling Morgan what was circling in his mind. She was so certain her father was on his way back and might even make it home that night. Colt dreaded being the one to tell her that he didn’t think it would be happening and that it was more likely she’d never see her father again.
With a heavy heart, Colt returned to the station and opened a new investigation file. He logged in the evidence he’d collected and wrote up a report. When he’d finished, he glanced at the clock and noticed his shift was over.
A surge of anticipation went through him at the thought of seeing Morgan again, but it was tinged with dread and caution. He still hadn’t decided what he would tell her, if anything. First thing in the morning, he’d search the motor vehicle registry and check if Rex had purchased another car, a car Morgan had no knowledge of. Then he’d make another round of calls to the local police stations located in the towns Rex would likely have passed through. If he had in fact traveled from Armidale to Darwin in another vehicle, someone must have seen him at some stage along the way. Colt needed to locate him as a matter of urgency and set everyone’s mind at ease.
With that thought in mind, Colt logged off and grabbed his jacket and keys. He’d swing by home and grab a quick shower and then head over to Butler Street and do his best to help celebrate the birthday of the woman who’d become a very important part of his life.
* * *
Morgan met him at the door wearing a cherry red halter-style dress that hugged her curves. She’d applied bright red lipstick to match. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She was beautiful, inside and out. How he ever imagined he could walk away from her and set her on her merry way to find some other guy to spend her life with, he didn’t know, but he was glad he’d come to his senses in time – with a little help from his twin.
“Hi,” she said and gave him a nervous smile.
He smiled back at her and leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. Her mouth was warm and supple and he wanted to linger over the kiss, but they were standing in the doorway of her father’s house. It wasn’t the time or place. He only hoped he’d get to take her home with him that evening and they could pick up where they’d left off.
“How was your day?” he asked as he followed her into the living room. Her uncle was nowhere in sight.
“It was okay, I guess. I got an email from Dad this afternoon. He’s been caught in a monsoon. It’s wet season up there. He’s not sure how long he’ll be stuck. Some of the roads have been closed.” She shrugged in disappointment. “I was really hoping he’d be back tonight. Uncle Leslie’s gone to a lot of trouble to celebrate my birthday. He’s been in the kitchen all afternoon.”
Colt kept his expression neutral. The news that Rex wasn’t on his way home, after all, was troubling. He didn’t realize until that moment how much he’d hoped Rex had left in a different vehicle and was already on the outskirts of his hometown.
“When was the last time you actually spoke to your dad?” he asked, keeping his voice light.
Morgan sighed. “It’s been more than a month. Probably as long as he’s been gone. From what I’ve gathered, Uncle Leslie’s unexpected arrival threw him into a bit of a spin. It seems like he wasn’t himself from that moment on. I can understand how the discovery of a twin brother could turn his life upside down. It’s no wonder he wasn’t thinking straight and it explains why he left without calling me. I probably would have done the same. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” he said hurriedly. She looked at him with an expression that was filled with curiosity. Colt compressed his lips. Should he tell her about the Ranger? But this was her belated birthday celebration and after all, he wasn’t sure what the abandoned vehicle meant. No blood or anything else suspicious had been found in the car. He thought about the cigarette butts and had to ask.
“Does your dad smoke?”
She blinked in surprise at his sudden change of topic. “No, but Uncle Leslie does. Why do you ask?”
Colt stared at her and his heart hammered double time. Leslie was a smoker. Leslie was a criminal with a violent past. He’d turned up out of nowhere and shortly thereafter, Rex had disappeared, along with his dog – who hadn’t disappeared at all, but was buried down the back.
The thoughts rushed through Colt’s head in a kaleidoscope of sound and movement. He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. What good would it do to spoil Morgan’s evening? There would be time enough in the morning to bring her up to date and together, they could analyze just what it all meant.
Right now, saying anything would raise more questions than he could answer and it would surely ruin her night. No, tonight was all about Morgan. Best to wait until he had more evidence and had a better idea just what the hell was going on.
He forced a smile. “Just wondering.” He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close for a quick kiss. “Come on, enough about your dad. Let’s get this party started. I brought you a bottle of wine. You like white, right?”
He handed her the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and she smiled and thanked him. Her uncle filled the doorway that led to the kitchen.
“Oh, Detective, there you are. Morgan told me you were coming over. Welcome. I was just coming in to tell you dinner’s ready.”
Colt shook hands with Morgan’s uncle and forced himself to smile. His mind was still spinning a mile a minute, but now wasn’t the time to discuss things. He followed Morgan and her uncle into the kitchen and immediately spied a garish rug that ran across the floor between the counter and the stove. Morgan noticed
the direction of his gaze.
“I’m afraid the rug’s a new addition to the house.”
“It’s…” Colt tried to find something nice to say about it.
“Hideous, I know,” she supplied, laughing. “It’s so odd. Dad’s always had an eye for expensive things. That rug looks like it came from a thrift shop and it matches nothing in the room. I don’t understand why he bought it, or why he’d nail it down.”
Colt frowned. “It’s nailed to the floor?”
Morgan nodded. “Yes. Isn’t that the strangest thing you ever heard?”
“I don’t know about that,” Leslie said, joining in the conversation. “It might have been so he didn’t slip on it. I know what it’s like to get older and lose mobility. My balance isn’t what it used to be and I’m a little leery of loose rugs on the floor. Perhaps your dad’s the same.”
Morgan looked at her uncle and nodded, accepting his explanation. Colt wasn’t quite so convinced. With the abandoned pickup in the forefront of his mind, he wondered how he was going to sit and share a meal with a man he suspected had done something unthinkable. Still, he forced himself to remain there.
The simple truth was, he had no evidence of foul play. It would be stupid to make accusations he couldn’t yet prove and it would solve nothing. All it would do was ruin Morgan’s night and she looked so pleased at the thought of celebrating her birthday with them that he didn’t dare say anything that might remove her smile.
“I hope you like grilled chicken breast with hollandaise sauce, Detective.”
“It sounds good, Leslie,” Colt murmured.
“You’re not allergic to anything are you?” Leslie pinned him with a narrowed gaze.
“No,” Colt replied.
Leslie turned to his niece. “What about you Morgan? I should have asked you earlier.”
“Only shellfish, Uncle.”
Leslie smiled. “Then we should all be good to go. I’ve thrown together a salad. There’s also fresh corn, hot from the oven and crusty garlic bread. To top it off, I’ve baked a birthday cake, just like I promised. I hope you like triple chocolate fudge.” He tossed Morgan a beaming smile.