55

by James Delargy

  As Chandler picked himself up off the faux marble floor, Gabriel was already up and sprinting for the door. Roper blocked the exit, reaching for his gun. Gabriel flew at him, hitting Roper in the midriff, knocking him over and relieving him of his firearm in one move, disappearing out of the church hall and into town.

  Reaching the door, Chandler drew his gun. Lining the steps and car park, a mass of scared and eager reporters, cameramen and locals confronted him. Gabriel scampered across the tarmac parting the crowd by waving his stolen weapon in the air. Raising his own, Chandler aimed for Gabriel’s legs, confident of hitting his target from this range. But as soon as Gabriel passed, the crowd closed in, the reporters turning to pursue the suspect, cameramen lugging their equipment, trying to keep up with their lead reporters.

  ‘Out of the way,’ yelled Chandler, bumping into one of the cameramen, his recording equipment swinging back and forth like a wrecking ball. Breaking through the main group, suddenly a line of sight opened up. Chandler got ready to shoot, but Gabriel disappeared around the corner of the station.

  Chandler set off after him, Tanya, Jim and a motley crew of Mitch and his team close behind, the rabid press and a few determined locals also. Mitch’s high-pitched and less than commanding cry of ‘Get him!’ rose above the sound of footsteps and excited squeals.

  Before he even made the corner, Chandler had been overtaken by the younger and fitter pair of Flo and Sun, their firearms at the ready.

  As the pursuit continued along King Edward Avenue, locals nosed their heads out of their doors and windows to observe the commotion.

  ‘Back inside!’ ordered Chandler, his legs already heavy.

  His order was ignored. Until the first shot rang out. The residents scuttled back indoors as quickly as they had appeared.

  ‘Don’t fucking shoot,’ shouted Chandler, trying to identify who had taken the shot, as the reporters swarmed him.

  But desperation was helping ease Gabriel into the distance, already a couple of hundred metres ahead, Flo and Sun struggling to keep up.

  Suddenly Gabriel darted on to the road, straight into the path of a chunky yellow Holden. It screeched to a halt. Miss Atherton, a local primary school teacher, threw herself out of the car as a gun was waved in her face. Getting in, Gabriel swung the hatchback around and zoomed off down Scott, pursued by another unidentified pot shot, a wild miss that screeched off into the distance.

  And like that Gabriel was gone. For the second time.

  Flo and Sun kept chasing in vain, following the car on to Logan’s Way, tailed by the press looking for that final camera shot, but there would be no catching their suspect on foot.

  Mitch stood by Chandler. He was fighting for breath. ‘Why the fuck did you let him get loose?’ Mitch cried.

  ‘I didn’t. He must have got the keys.’

  ‘And how did he do that?’ he spat. ‘Your incompetent fucking officers, I bet.’

  Mitch didn’t wait for Chandler’s defence, jumping straight on to the radio, putting the entire region on standby for the second time in two days.

  35

  Within ten minutes of Gabriel’s escape, Mitch had corralled his forces and issued instructions. All vehicles were to be mobilized with the precaution that Gabriel was to be considered armed and extremely dangerous.

  ‘What about Heath?’ asked Chandler as Mitch finished his speech. ‘We need to keep him under watch.’

  Reporters gathered and yelled questions at them from close by, questioning what the police were doing about the murderer now loose in town. How did he get free? How were they going to keep the townspeople safe? The questions kept coming, spat like automatic gunfire.

  Mitch paused, eyes rolling as if he had only just remembered his other suspect.

  ‘We need to focus on the one not in custody, Sergeant.’

  ‘I agree, but Gabriel’s determined to kill him. For whatever reason. Has he got information on him? Something we haven’t thought about?’

  Yohan interrupted them. A yellow Holden had been seen near Lockridge. Going fast. Mitch ordered Yohan to get the word out to those already on the street. Almost instantly another report came in, verifying the first sighting, the police fanning out, Mitch in constant contact with his team, shrieking at the officers on the other end to catch Gabriel, then screaming at those nearby to keep the damn reporters back.

  ‘I’ve got him in my sights.’ A determined voice fought through the radio chatter. Tanya.

  ‘Where are you?’ butted in Chandler. He didn’t care if Mitch didn’t like it, Tanya was one of his officers.

  ‘On Butcher’s. He’s trying to steal—’

  The radio signal broke up. Chandler pictured Butcher’s – a dirt road heading south, out towards the iron mines and unfarmable desert.

  ‘Don’t get too close,’ ordered Mitch. ‘Follow him.’

  The signal returned; hard breathing and frantic motion filled their ears. A microphone rubbing on fabric. The voice cut in again.

  ‘I can—’

  The call dropped.

  ‘Shit!’ Chandler looked to Mitch who was already on the radio, ordering all available bodies to Butcher’s.

  ‘I’m going,’ said Chandler.

  Mitch nodded, then shouted at Luka. ‘Luka, get us a car!’

  A minute later a siren parted the reluctant horde, drowning out the questions from the press.

  As they were barrelling into the car, a voice spluttered over the radio. It was Steve Kirriboo, a miner and father of six who farmed a few cattle further along Butcher’s. His voice sang with worry. ‘Chand? Sergeant?’

  ‘Yes, Steve,’ said Chandler.

  ‘One of your guys – girls – is down out here.’

  Chandler held his breath. Down . . . had she confronted him?

  ‘Chand?’

  Chandler found some air. ‘Yes, Steve . . . she okay?’

  There was no answer, Steve’s drawl lost in the clamour of radio communication.

  ‘Luka, step on it,’ said Chandler.

  Luka obeyed, the souped-up police car searing through streets that were otherwise eerily quiet, everyone either indoors watching the TV reports or crowded around the station and church hall.

  ‘She better be okay.’

  ‘As long as she blocked his escape,’ said Mitch.

  Chandler glared at him, the tarmac under the tyres changing into dirt, the rear end fishtailing with the sudden lack of grip.

  A couple of kilometres up Butcher’s they found the Holden outside Chucker Nelson’s farm, angled towards the ditch as if forced to stop suddenly. The rear lights were on, the engine still running. As Luka pulled up behind it, Chandler was out of the vehicle before it stopped, other squad cars queuing up behind.

  Just past the empty Holden, Tanya was propped against the foot of a fence post. She was alive, much to his relief, looking up at him in embarrassment, a narrow trail of blood appearing from her tight hairline.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Never mind that, are you okay?’

  ‘Fine. A few bruises, a sore head,’ she said, resting against the post for support.

  ‘Why did you approach him?’ he asked, more forcefully than he had intended.

  ‘To try and stop him,’ she said, suddenly angry.

  He nodded in silent apology. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He was parked by the gate, trying to get Chucker’s quad started. With the noise of the old thing I thought I’d managed to sneak up on him but I guess he saw me in the mirror. Hit me before I had the chance to take him down. I thought he was going to kill me but instead he just asked my name. When I told him, he pistol-whipped me.’

  ‘Your name? He didn’t say anything else? Anything about where he was heading?’ interjected Mitch, impatient.

  Tanya shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Not even a hint?’

  ‘No,’ said Tanya, glancing at Chandler as if pleading for him to get Mitch away from her. ‘In fact, he seemed almost, disint
erested in me.’

  ‘You’re not the one he’s after,’ said Chandler.

  ‘Or possibly because he has half the police force after him,’ countered Mitch. He turned to Tanya. ‘What direction did he go in?’

  Tanya shook her head. ‘I didn’t see, but I’d guess further in. Somewhere we can’t get to by car.’

  ‘We need to get going,’ grunted Mitch, directing this at Chandler.

  ‘I’m not leaving Tanya.’

  ‘She’s fine, a bump and a bruise. We can’t waste more time. My team will call an ambulance.’

  Chandler looked to his senior constable. Her fury was barely confined. Her response was given through clenched teeth. ‘Go. I’ll be fine.’

  Chandler put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Not until—’

  ‘Go,’ she said again. ‘Don’t let the bastard disappear.’

  Chandler ran back to the car to find Mitch behind the wheel. Circumnavigating the Holden, Mitch fought with the steering wheel on the gravel road as he increased the pace of the pursuit, his foot heavy on the accelerator.

  ‘Why do you think he let her go?’ asked Chandler, thinking out loud.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Mitch, sawing at the wheel. ‘Maybe he doesn’t want to kill a woman or a police officer?’

  ‘There were two women amongst the bodies we found.’

  ‘Maybe he isn’t as crazy as we thought. Maybe there’s a plan behind all this.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Chandler. He hoped it was the truth. A plan was good news. Plans, by their very nature, could be discovered and foiled; random acts of violence were harder to determine and prevent. But to stop Gabriel, first they had to capture him.

  Ten minutes up Butcher’s and the road spluttered into a track that was barely navigable by car. Another five and it disappeared altogether, the brush accessible by quad or scrambler only. In desperation, Mitch ordered them to follow on foot but after half an hour of laboured progress and no sign of their suspect, the foot search was called off. Mitch radioed in a chopper and roused the state police to the exits at the far end in case Gabriel appeared there.

  The ride back to town was dominated by questions over the escape, the ramifications of what Gabriel had done and what he might do next. The only good news that filtered through on the way was confirmation that Tanya was okay, the cut on her scalp minor, concussion protocol passed. She’d refused to stay in hospital, insisting on returning to work. Chandler was glad. He needed all the good officers he could muster. The town was on lockdown, the streets empty aside from a few nosy locals and the ever-present mass of reporters surrounding the station. As they made their way through the crowd the same questions Chandler had himself were fired at him, questions he had no answers for; how had Gabriel managed to get free and what were they were doing to find him? How many had Gabriel killed? How many would he kill? Chandler kept his head down and offered no comment.

  As they entered the station, Chandler started the inquest.

  ‘How did he manage to get free from those cuffs?’

  The other officers looked at each other for answers. They drew a blank.

  As he reached the door of the office, Mitch swung around. ‘That doesn’t matter now. We just need to get him.’

  ‘Of course it matters,’ frowned Chandler. ‘The procedure failed somewhere. And you’re all about procedure.’

  ‘I’m all about getting Gabriel back,’ replied Mitch. ‘So kill this convo and get back to work.’

  The order was belted out to his team – plus Luka – and they returned to their desks. Chandler and his small crew remained in discussion.

  ‘He didn’t break the cuffs,’ noted Jim, ‘I checked ’em. They were unlocked, no scratches either.’

  ‘So he had the keys,’ said Nick from the front desk.

  ‘It looks like it, but how did he get the keys?’ asked Chandler.

  ‘Pickpocket?’ suggested Jim.

  Chandler shook his head. ‘His hands were bound at all times. And no one ever got that close to him. Only . . .’

  He turned to the office. Chandler suddenly knew. Yesterday, when Mitch had assaulted Gabriel in the interview room. Gabriel must have swiped them in the melee, then concealed them, waiting for the right moment to ambush Heath.

  He followed Mitch into the stale air of his former office.

  ‘So it was you,’ said Chandler. ‘He got the keys off you.’

  Mitch paced to the far end of the room, head lowered, reeking of guilt. If only Gabriel had looked as guilty earlier, all this shit could have been prevented, thought Chandler.

  ‘He must have taken them off me,’ said Mitch, speaking quietly, refusing to go into details. ‘But we need to keep it quiet.’

  ‘Why?’

  Mitch rubbed his ever-darkening stubble. ‘If this leaks, we’ll have a million more questions. From above and below. What matters now is that we catch Gabriel before he has the chance to kill again.’

  Mitch looked desperate. It was the first time since the search for Martin that Chandler had seen his former friend like this. If only he was capable of looking vulnerable a little more often, then people might have considered him human. Despite this unexpected glimpse of humanity, a significant part of Chandler considered handing the information over to the press, a simple loose word or two that would spread like a virus and infect every news station with the tale of the bumbling inspector. Worse – the negligent inspector. But even though it was tempting, Chandler recognized the underlying truth to what Mitch had said: how Gabriel had got free was secondary to apprehending him again. If the distraction over the lost keys resulted in someone else getting killed, Chandler would never be able to forgive himself. So he made the decision – he would keep the information for now, save it as a bargaining chip.

  Another realization forced its way out of his mouth. ‘After taking them off you Gabriel had the keys all day. He could have escaped at any time but he waited until Heath was exposed.’

  ‘So . . . ?’ said Mitch.

  ‘So, instead of me catching him outside the station, I think he purposefully turned himself in to stay close to Heath.’

  ‘So there must be some sort of connection.’

  Chandler nodded. ‘Some reason to risk his freedom for that one chance to kill Heath.’

  Heath was brought back into the interview room, his lawyer in tow. He was furious. This time Mitch made a point to invite Chandler to accompany him.

  ‘There’s no connection,’ said Heath, his voice insistent. ‘I swear it. I’m a victim.’

  Chandler spoke up. ‘And you’re sure you didn’t run into him earlier? On a farm, or on a job? Months, even years ago?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

  ‘Might you have done something to someone he knows – or loves? You didn’t sleep with his wife, ex-wife, sister?’

  ‘What? Are you asking if I brought this on myself?’ asked Heath, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mitch. ‘You have quite an abrasive personality, Mr Barwell.’

  ‘I have an abrasive personality? What about this fucking joke of a police force? I’ve told you that I’m the victim. Four fucking times now.’

  ‘We’re only trying to determine if there’s a reason he’s so intent on killing you. You didn’t steal something, punch somebody, beat up someone?’

  ‘Punch? Beat?’ spat Heath. His voice was incredulous and his face livid.

  ‘You did say that you committed an assault,’ said Chandler.

  ‘That guy was a friend of a friend,’ spluttered Heath. ‘Look – all I know is that I’m in here accused of a crime, accused of murders I didn’t commit. I came close to being murdered twice by the same person, the actual murderer and yet I’m still being treated like I’m guilty. I want out of here now. I want outta this station and far away from this fucking place. Find him and then maybe I’ll come back and testify. Or better yet I’ll do it over video link and keep the fuck away from this shithole.’

  Heath l
ooked to his lawyer for help.

  ‘Is there anywhere secure my client can be kept overnight?’ asked the blonde lawyer.

  ‘He’s staying in it,’ said Chandler.

  ‘For your own safety, I think you are better off remaining here, Mr Barwell, where we can protect you,’ said Mitch.

  Heath glared at his lawyer and then at Mitch. ‘You nearly got me killed.’

  ‘That was an accident.’

  ‘Yeah, there seem to be a lot of accidents happening around here. And just so you know, I’m going to sue you after this. All of you. False imprisonment, endangering my life, holding me without charge. I’ll make a fortune,’ he said, his anger morphing into a smirk.

  36

  With darkness having closed in, the hunt through the outback for Gabriel was put on hold. Mitch ordered some of his officers on to the streets to lend the appearance that things were under control.

  Something was bugging Chandler. A conversation he’d had with Gabriel that first morning. He told Mitch that he was going home to check on his family. Mitch wanted all hands to the pump but they both knew Mitch was in no position to refuse considering how their suspect had got loose. And though he didn’t have to, Chandler felt the need to tell Mitch, to tell someone what was bothering him – just in case.

  ‘Gabriel knows where I live.’

  Mitch frowned. ‘How does he know that?’

  ‘We were chatting when I took him to the hotel after questioning him the first time and I mentioned my family.’

  ‘That was stupid.’

  ‘I had no idea he would turn out to be masquerading as a victim. I was just trying to put a witness at ease.’

  Mitch paused. ‘Okay, what’s done is done. I’ll have a patrol car come by every half hour.’

  Chandler nodded. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Be back in a couple of hours, okay? We need everyone.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ asked Chandler.

  Mitch nodded towards the door. ‘Go out on patrol myself. Lead the hunt. Check out some of the abandoned joints in town in case he’s hiding out. It’ll be a journey into the past.’