by D. B. Tait
Damn it. He could still do a lot of damage to Blossom while on the run.
“What’s going on here? What are you doing?”
She turned to see a pudgy man with tussled wire-like hair, eyeing her suspiciously.
“She was fighting with another one who ran off,” Doreen said, breathlessly. “They almost came to blows.”
Julia held up her hands in denial. “No fighting here. He was off his face and just went for me. I didn’t say anything.”
The man frowned at her and turned to Doreen. “Call the police. Tell them what happened and I’ll call them in a bit.” He sighed and muttered to himself. “I had a bad feeling about that bloke when I agreed to his transfer up here.”
We looked at Julia and narrowed his eyes. “Come inside. We’re overdue for a talk.”
She followed him into the office and sat in a chair in front of his desk.
He picked up her file and sat opposite her. “Nothing like a little drama to start the day,” he said breezily, as if assault was a usual occurrence in this office. Maybe it was. She had no experience of being on parole so maybe this was normal. But his next words put paid to that idea.
“If I find out you’re involved in anything, anything that’s in anyway illegal, dodgy or otherwise a bad idea, I’ll breach you so fast you won’t have time to draw breath. Am I making myself clear?”
“Crystal,” she said. “But I can’t help it if your other clients won’t control themselves.”
“Don’t be smart with me, Julia. I know damn well who Rez is and his relationship with your sister.” He pushed his fingers through his hair looking frustrated and tired.
“Look, he’s a train wreck and he’ll be breached and picked up. I know you don’t want him around your sister and I sympathize, but you can’t goad him into something stupid. Apart from the fact he’s quite capable of doing that on his own, it’s dangerous. He’s unstable and he could hurt you, if he hasn’t already. How’s your head?”
She shrugged. “Fine.”
He slumped into his chair and stared at her for a long minute. She stared back, not dropping her eyes.
“I’m on your side, you know. I don’t want you to go back to prison and from the look of your file there’s no reason for you to.” He leafed through the thick file. “You’ve never had a history of drug and alcohol use, you participated in therapy and education and didn’t get one misconduct charge the whole time you were in. That’s pretty impressive and not something I see every day.”
He paused and narrowed his eyes again.
“What do you want to do with your life?”
What did she want to do with her life?
It was the question everyone asked her before she left custody. All she could come up with was finishing her degree and maybe getting some kind of low-paying job until the universe revealed something to her. But the state of Chez Taylor had given her ideas about what she wanted to do.
She hesitated. “Decoration. House decoration.”
“Interior design?”
She nodded. “Although not just that. More a total make over service. I’m good with color and decoration. At Emu Plains I did some building courses. I can do woodwork and painting.” She could feel some of her stiffness softening with the man in front of her. “My mother’s house is in a bad way. I thought I could complete the building qualifications I started at Emu Plains and learn as I go by fixing her house.”
He nodded his head and smiled at her. “That’s a good plan. Let’s get you in contact with TAFE.”
He pulled out some forms and for the next hour, Julia gratefully focused on her future plans. He really did seem to want to help her. By the time the hour was up, she’d enrolled in a TAFE course over the phone, had discussed doing a small business course, registered for a tax file number and an Australian business number, and accepted his advice to stay away from Rez.
“Leave him to the police. Don’t have any contact with him at all.”
She nodded and hoped Dylan and his colleagues would pick him up soon.
*
Julia Taylor’s haunted look preyed on Dylan’s mind
He wasn’t foolish enough to discount an accusation of abuse at the hands of police. It made his blood boil. He knew she wasn’t making it up. She didn’t have that air of being a drama queen that never failed to set off his bullshit detector.
And he knew who assaulted her.
Angus O’Reardon. Ex-cop, now owner of the biggest and most successful hotel in Katoomba.
He’d been medically retired from the police force just after the priest’s murder. Although from what Dylan heard, he was on the verge of being investigated by the Police Integrity Commission after one too many accusations of assault. No one mentioned a rape.
His mind made up, Dylan crossed the busy office of the Katoomba Police Station and knocked on the open door of his boss, Local Area Commander Bill Pringle.
The older man was on the phone but waved Dylan in, pointing to a chair. Dylan sat and smiled, shaking his head as he listened to the one-way conversation.
“Yes, Mrs. Daley. That must have been very irritating. No, no. I can’t send anyone out right now.” Silence as he rolled his eyes at Dylan. “But there was no damage? Just some noises. Yes… Yes… Maybe it was a possum. No?” He sighed. “Okay, Mrs. Daley. I’ll drop in on my way home. No, no. No trouble. I’ll see you then.”
He hung up the phone and gazed at Dylan, with a face full of gloom.
“She thinks someone tried to break into her house last night. Last night and three days ago. Unfortunately she lives just down the street to me so I dropped in to take a look. It’s obviously possums, but she won’t believe me.” He sighed again. “She’s lonely, the poor old duck. I’ll speak to my wife. Maybe she can get someone out to talk to her.”
His gaze sharpened as he focused on Dylan. Most people saw him as genial and easy-going, but Dylan knew better. Nothing got past him. His carefully cultivated laid-back charm hid his razor sharp mind. He’d been the LAC at Katoomba for the last two years. In that time, it became more and more obvious to him and to Dylan just who was responsible for the growing drug trade throughout the Mountains and the Central West.
Years of experience as a Senior Sargent within the New South Wales Police Service meant O’Reardon was adept at covering his tracks. But Dylan and Pringle kept chipping away at the investigation, adding seemingly random facts to the growing body of intelligence about the distribution of drugs in the local area. So far, the investigation was under wraps. No one knew that the most prominent and well-respected public figure in Katoomba was a major drug distributor.
“What have you got for me?”
These were Pringle’s usual words of welcome, offered to everyone from investigating officers like Dylan to the lady in the sandwich shop.
“Julia Taylor.”
“Oh yeah?” He frowned. “I wouldn’t have thought she’d be in trouble so soon. If at all. Crime of passion by someone young and foolish. If it’d been up to me she would’ve got a suspended sentence. Yeah, yeah…” He waved away Dylan’s objections. “I know you have a different idea. But what those dropkicks did to Dale Rowe was the result of too much alcohol and misplaced moral indignation. They killed a child killer because what they thought he did was a hair’s breadth from what they did to their own kids.”
Dylan shifted in his chair, knowing Pringle was right. Most of Dale Rowe’s neighbors had kids who’d either been removed by child protection authorities or were being investigated by them. Up until the death of little Eva, they’d seen Rowe as a friend and neighbor. Someone to chew the fat with and maybe score some drugs from. But he stepped over the line when he was suspected of beating his de facto’s daughter to death. His dismembered, half-burnt body was found in a field not far from the public housing estate where he and his girlfriend lived. The smell seemed to hover in the air for weeks afterward. One more reason Dylan left Sydney.
Drugs and poverty. The two facts of life that
would keep the police in business forever.
“She’s not in trouble. I ran into her a few days ago and she told me something that could be related to O’Reardon.”
“Yeah? I didn’t think she was a user.”
He shook his head. “She’s not. It’s about the night she was arrested. She said she was assaulted in the cells and the woman next to her raped.”
Pringle grimaced, his dark eyes flat with anger.
“Sounds like his MO. Although no one ever accused him of rape.” He picked up a paper clip and slowly unwound it. “Is she willing to make a statement?”
“I didn’t ask her, but I doubt it. She’s not a woman who’d give much assistance to the police.
Pringle snorted. “I don’t suppose she would.” He shot a sharp look at Dylan. “Why’d she tell you?”
Dylan ran his hand through his hair and contemplated what to say. He had nothing to be ashamed of. He’d helped her for God’s sake. But lusting after someone so obviously distressed didn’t sit well with him.
“She was having a panic attack up at the Council offices. I made her sit and breathe. Told me I reminded her of someone. Turned out to be O’Reardon.”
“The only thing you two have in common is your size.” The paper clip now straightened, he threw it onto the desk. “Do you know who else was arrested that night besides Julia Taylor?”
Dylan nodded. “Vanessa Hunt.”
Pringle groaned. “Now, why does that not surprise me?” He pushed himself away from his desk and stood. “Where is she now?”
“She got out of Dillwynia a couple of months ago. Haven’t come across her yet but it’ll be only a matter of time.” He hesitated. “I want to talk to Julia again. Thing is, she hinted at something to do with his ‘business’ interests. I think she knows he’s behind the drug trade into the prison. I might be able to convince her to make a statement.”
Dylan felt the searching gaze of Pringle study him.
“She was an attractive young woman I seem to recall. No doubt she still is.”
Dylan took in a deep breath. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“Keep away from damsels in distress. She has a family who can look after her.”
Heat crept up the back of Dylan’s neck. He stood and faced the older man. “I know that. I’m not interested in her that way.”
“You’re not interested in anyone that way.” He threw his arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s get some lunch. You know my wife is threatening to invite you to one of her famous dinner parties?”
Dylan started at his boss in horror. “No! No. You can’t let her do that.”
“Not up to me, son. Ever since she convinced herself she played successful matchmaker for Jared and Suzi, she’s got it in her head she needs to make sure all the single officers under my command get the benefit of her skills. I’d start dating someone if I were you.”
Dylan grimaced. He’d been out of the dating game since Melanie’s death. Although they’d split up months before she died, he couldn’t bring himself to enter into that part of his life again. Better to have an occasional weekend in Sydney, pick up a woman wanting sex and only sex, and forget about anything else. He was bad luck when it came to anything more intimate.
“It’s not that easy,” he muttered.
“It never is. Not even after thirty years of marriage.” He paused, a ruminative frown on his face. “Might be a good idea to call up Taylor and Hunt’s files. See if there’s any paperwork that might be useful. You never know. O’Reardon might’ve stuffed something up. Come on, food awaits.”
Dylan followed Pringle out of his office and thrust away thoughts of smooth, creamy skin and haunted eyes.
Chapter 5
“How’d you go Gaz? Did you pick up the stuff?”
“All in the basement, boss. Good quality too. That new bloke down at Fairfield knows what he’s doing.”
Angus O’Reardon regarded him with distaste. Gary was becoming a problem. He’d let himself go, allowing alcohol and gambling to rule his life. He was drunk already and what looked like food stains, probably from the meat pies he was so fond of, trailed down his shirt.
O’Reardon didn’t let anyone or anything rule his life. Once you allowed an external force to dominate you, you were fucked. Time and time again he’d seen men lose their focus and control because they’d given their power away. He’d almost done it himself, getting lost in the joy of inflicting pain on others, seeing their fear and vulnerability. But he’d pulled back before he ruined his life. No, instead of being the instrument of pain, he let others do his work.
“Good. Get the others onto it. Had a call from out Canowindra way. Some blokes out there looking for some product. We should be able to do a run by the end of the week.”
He turned back to the paperwork on his desk and frowned. His legitimate business interests needed his attention. Something didn’t add up between the amount of alcohol they’d ordered in and what they were selling. He was being ripped off and he had a fair idea by who. Idiot. No one got away with conning Angus O’Reardon.
“Sure, boss, I’ll get onto it. Rez is in town looking for some extra cash. You know he’s going around with that Taylor girl? Julia’s sister.” Gary hesitated, as if deciding what more to say.
“Yeah?” He didn’t have time to listen to one of Gary’s pathetic stories of big-noting himself with the locals, although anything about the Taylor girls was worth listening to. He rustled his papers and turned on his computer. He’d have to give some thought about what to do about old Gaz.
“Ran into Julia at Wentworth Falls a few days ago. She’d just got out. Was with that dyke her mother lives with.’
A sliver of unease trickled down O’Reardon’s spine. So she was back. Didn’t necessarily mean anything. She made her choices for God-only-knows-what reason ten years ago. She’d never said anything about that night. In fact, she’d never said anything much about the whole matter. He was grateful she’d gone a bit loopy because it gave him the chance to look after another aspect of his growing business interests. Thankfully, he shut down that particular stream when he realized it was too risky. And frankly, even for him, distasteful. That priest was seriously fucked up.
But she was unfinished business and he didn’t like anything he couldn’t control. If she decided to tell the truth after all these years, someone else might start asking questions.
“What’d you say to her?”
Gary shrugged. “Just that we had other business interests now.” He paused again.
There was something up, something O’Reardon sensed he didn’t want to mention.
“The thing is, she knows about the supply into jail.”
O’Reardon stilled. “Anything else?”
“I think she knows about Ingram.”
O’Reardon swore. “What did you say to her?”
Randle shrugged. “That she better not say anything to anyone or her family could get hurt.”
“How’d she take that?”
He shrugged again.
“I need to know, Gary. Is she going to be trouble?’
He ducked his head and shifted on his feet. “She was angry.”
Great. Just great. “Angry enough to tell anyone?”
“Maybe.”
O’Reardon lumbered to his feet and moved to the front of the desk. Grabbing Randle’s shirt front he slammed him against the wall.
“You idiot. Your big-noting has got me into quite a bit of trouble over the years. You need to get control of yourself. Smarten up or get lost. I can’t afford your fuck ups anymore.”
He let go of Randle’s shirt.
“Get her in here. We need to have a little chat. She needs to understand just exactly what would happen if she told anyone.”
He glanced toward the safe. He’d kept the DVD in case the person who really knew what happened to the priest started making trouble. But it wouldn’t hurt to tell a little white lie. Make the Taylor woman believe her worst fear
s could be realized.
He smiled. Good times ahead.
*
The next day as she walked down Katoomba Street, Julia’s heart started a panicky tattoo again. In all the drama of Blossom and Rez, she’d forgotten about being in the world. Apart from her brief visit to Cafe Zuppa and coffee with Sally, this was the first time she’d walked down the main street in ten years. It hadn’t changed much. Not really. Maybe more people, different shops, and a remarkable number of cafes, but there was still a sense of grunge about the place.
Jail didn’t mean she was completely cut off from the outside world. Far from it. There was always a TV on somewhere, either in someone’s cell or in the main living area. Most of the time the noise drove her mad. Newspapers were available. Lots of women came into custody on short sentences then left and came back again. She knew about the Global Financial Crisis and how it affected communities. Katoomba didn’t look like it was immune. There were a few empty shops and more people who looked like they were struggling.
Pulling her coat around her, she headed down the hill to get a newspaper. With a growing sense of dread, she spied Nessa swaying in the wind just near the entrance to the newsagency.
“Hey,” Julia said, softly. “How’re you going?”
Nessa turned, her eyes unfocused and glassy. She smiled widely and threw her arms around Julia.
“Jules! When’d you get out? We should celebrate!”
Julia found herself holding Nessa up as she lost her balance. Struggling with an almost dead weight, she propped her against the wall.
“A few days ago. Are you okay, hon? Do you want me to call anyone? You don’t look too good.”
Nessa smiled again like a dreamy two year old. “No one to call, Jules. Not anymore.” She cackled which made her double over into a coughing fit. Straightening she peered at Jules. “Can you lend me some cash, Jules? I can pay you back. Just need to get some ciggies. I get paid tomorrow.”
Julia's heart sank. She wasn’t prepared for this. Apart from the fact she only had a few dollars on her, she didn’t know what she should do. The money didn’t matter. If she gave it to Nessa she knew she’d never see it again but she hated to think Nessa would use it for more drugs which, inevitably, she would.