‘Yes, I remember her brother. He would come in here to visit Jenna.’
Lexie could imagine. With his tall, lean yet muscular frame, shiny dark hair, piercing green eyes and dimples to die for, Josh Harrison was, in fact, very hard to forget.
‘Jenna’s family is naturally devastated by her death. They were all under the impression she was getting better; had a new lease on life, so to speak. There was even talk she was seeing someone. Did she ever mention someone special?’
Doctor Norjin shook her head slowly.
‘No, she didn’t mention a boyfriend or anything like that. I’m sorry I can’t help you there. I really thought she had improved dramatically. I would never have released her if I’d thought otherwise.’
There was no doubting the doctor’s sincerity.
‘Can I ask how you became her doctor? Had you previously had any dealings with Jenna? She has been in here a few times.’
‘No. I have only been here six months. I didn’t know Jenna. I was on duty when she was admitted to emergency. You do know she had tried to hurt herself? One of our doctors stitched her arm. She was completely hysterical when she came in.’
Lexie pulled out her notebook.
‘Do you know who that doctor was? Who stitched up Jenna?’
‘Yes, it was one of our best doctors in the emergency department, Doctor Bream.’
Lexie felt her stomach tense.
‘Doctor Bream was the admitting doctor?’
‘Yes, yes, do you know him? He came back to check on Jenna quite a bit. He’s a good man, a thorough doctor. Not too bad on the eye, either.’
She gave Lexie another shy smile.
Lexie nodded.
‘I do know him, actually. He treated me not so long ago.’
‘Really?’
Doctor Norjin regarded her seriously.
‘I hope everything is okay now.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Lexie, waving her hand in the air, dismissively. ‘It was nothing a few stitches couldn’t fix.’ Pausing to think, she added, ‘You said Jenna had cut herself.’
‘That’s right. She had slashed her wrist. It was a cry for help.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because she made the cuts across her wrist, from one side to the other, and she knew very well that to kill yourself you have to cut straight up the arm, along the vein.’
Doctor Norjin held out her arm, palm up and ran a finger from the inside of her wrist up towards her elbow, gesturing with her hands to show what she meant.
Lexie already knew what she was saying to be true, but many people didn’t.
‘How do you know Jenna knew that was not the right way to go about it?’
‘She told me in one of our therapy sessions. She didn’t want to die. She was just desperate and unwell and couldn’t express herself in any other way.’
Lexie shook her head.
‘It doesn’t make sense.’
‘She was mentally ill, albeit it appeared she was getting better, but how do we know if she was taking her medication? That’s when they seem to fall down if they don’t stay on the program.’
‘What medication was she on?’
‘I’d have to check to be absolutely sure but I think it was Lexapro. It’s standard to treat depression and anxiety.’
‘Did you prescribe her OxyContin tablets?’
The doctor’s pale eyes clouded as she gave Lexie a curious look.
‘Why would I do that? No. OxyContin is used for pain relief, not depression and anxiety.’
‘Did you know that was what she overdosed on?’
She shook her head, baffled.
‘No, the police didn’t tell me that. I assumed that she’d cut her wrist again. The right way this time.’
‘So you spoke to the police who investigated her death?’
The doctor shook her head.
‘Not really. A detective called me only to verify I was her treating doctor at the time of her release. They told me nothing other than that she had committed suicide.’
That was sloppy police work.
‘Do you remember the detective’s name? Was it Detective James?’
Doctor Norjin nodded.
‘I couldn’t be sure, but that sounds familiar.’
‘Did you tell Doctor Bream about Jenna’s death?’
‘Yes, I did. He was very upset.’
‘No other doctor would have prescribed her the OxyContin, would they?’
‘I can’t say for sure but I wouldn’t think so. Especially not if they were aware she was on some pretty strong anti-depressants. But I do know, as obviously would you, it’s not that hard to get on the streets. If she really wanted some . . .’
Her voice trailed off.
‘Did you ever give her intravenous medication while she was here?’
The doctor let out a little gasp.
‘Oh God, no. Jenna was petrified of needles, would become very agitated at the sight of one.’
‘So you would agree it would be strange for her to inject herself with the drug instead of consuming it orally?’
The doctor’s fair eyebrows joined together in an almost invisible frown.
‘Is that what she did? Yes, yes, I would say that is very strange.’
She shook her head.
‘Very strange. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any patient so terrified of the needle.’
Lexie had all she needed.
‘Thanks, doctor, I appreciate your time.’
‘Anything else I can do, don’t hesitate to contact me,’ the doctor said as they shook hands.
*
Brad was waiting for Lexie in the foyer.
‘I hate to admit it, but Doctor Rod Bream is starting to look more suspect than that ex-husband of yours,’ Brad told her.
‘Why?’ Lexie asked, suddenly excited.
‘Well, he was not working the night of Melissa’s murder or the night Jenna died. So I’d say he has to be our killer,’ Brad stated simply.
Lexie ignored his sarcasm.
‘Good. Now all we have to do is find him and ascertain if he has an alibi for both nights.’
Brad huffed. Clearly he thought she was barking up the wrong tree.
‘I spoke to Jenna’s psychiatrist. Do you want to know what she told me?’
Lexie didn’t wait for a reply.
‘Rod Bream was the admitting doctor the night Jenna was brought into the hospital. He stitched her wrists after she’d sliced them open and then went back to check on her regularly while she was in the psychiatric ward.’
‘Isn’t that what doctors are supposed to do?’
Lexie continued, ‘That links Doctor Rod Bream to both Jenna and Melissa.’
Brad stared at her, unimpressed.
‘What else?’
‘Doctor Norjin mentioned Jenna hated needles and that she had only prescribed an anti-depressant, not OxyContin.’
Lexie’s words were coming out too fast as she attempted to cover all the details.
‘The doctor didn’t know Jenna had overdosed on OxyContin. The police didn’t even bother to pay her a visit either. They just called on the phone, told her nothing but that Jenna had committed suicide. I was a bit embarrassed by the lack of professionalism, to tell you the truth.’
‘Do you know who reported on it?’
‘I was going to tell you that next. I spoke to the investigating detective from Maroubra – I know him from Kings Cross. He gave me the toxicology results. There was three times the amount of OxyContin capable of killing a person in her system. So this was no accident. It was deliberate. But deliberate by Jenna or someone else?
Finally showing some interest, Brad gave her a worried look.
‘What’s the detective’s name?’
‘Steve James. I’m having dinner with him tonight, so I’ll find out more then.’
Brad looked shocked.
‘Steve James was the investigator?’
‘Do you know him?’
‘Know of him,’ Brad said in a flat voice without elaborating. ‘Dinner? You really do take your job seriously now, don’t you?’
Brad and Lexie stared at each other. The silence drew out between them like a rubber band about to snap.
The stubborn bastard didn’t want to consider there might be reason to look further into Rod Bream.
Lexie guessed that, in Brad’s mind, Zack was already guilty and should be locked away, never to be released. Well, not quite, but Brad certainly had it in for him.
Finally Lexie broke the silence.
‘You taught me that a good detective needs to exhaust all avenues of inquiry before reaching a conclusion on a case. That’s what I’m trying to do, Brad. Your girlfriend, the forensic pathologist, is the one who told us Melissa’s and Jenna’s deaths and the circumstances surrounding them are very similar. I’m just following up the information an expert has given us. Isn’t that what an investigator is meant to do?’
Brad shook his head in defeat. He knew Lexie had won this round by throwing his own words back at him.
‘Just think about it, Brad. This is not just about catching a killer. If Jenna’s death was deliberate, then this is more than a murder investigation . . . this is personal.’
CHAPTER 21
BALI
Josh Harrison used his beach towel to wipe perspiration from his face. Today the temperature in Bali was ridiculous, about 45 degrees, and the air was so thick with humidity it was like breathing through a damp sponge. The heat was really getting to him today. He would have thought that after a month his body would have acclimatised to the tropical conditions. Then again, being permanently hung over didn’t help.
For most of the day Josh had been lounging on a sun-bed under the shade of a monstrous umbrella next to the resort pool. Closing his eyes, he let his thoughts drift away with the fading sun. It was almost happy hour – time for a drink, he thought. Then Josh began to wonder how long he could keep this up. How long would he allow himself to wallow in this haze of self-pity? Since leaving Australia too many emotions had been spinning circles inside him. So he had tried to numb his feelings of inadequacy with alcohol – lots of it – more than usual. It was an addictive escape. It was not healthy.
Stop being pathetic!
Josh dismissed his thoughts by leaping from the sun-bed, ignoring the head-spin he experienced as a result of his sudden movement. Taking four quick steps across burning concrete, he dived so expertly into the pool that he caused hardly a splash or a ripple.
The water, having been heated by the sun all day, was tepid, not entirely refreshing. But he did a few laps, just for something to do, and then got back out of the pool. Returning to his original spot under the sun umbrella, Josh was oblivious to the stares he drew from some of the young women sunbaking around him. Since that embarrassing incident with the little redhead, Josh had made certain to steer clear of all women. He was not interested. Though strangely, it seemed the more uninterested he appeared, the more advances he received. He had learned to brush them off politely, preferring to hang out with a bunch of young surfies he’d met at the beach. Unlike Josh, they managed to hook up most nights and hardly ever went home alone. They probably thought he was gay. He didn’t care.
Since being in Bali, Josh had been eating and drinking like there was no tomorrow. Although he was unshaven and his black hair was in urgent need of a cut, surfing most days as a way of dusting himself off after the night before served to keep his abused body fit and lean; his muscles were firm, his skin bronzed. Ironically, his exterior provided a deceptive contrast to the shattered mess that lay within.
‘Coming for a drink, mate?’ asked Chris, one of the guys he’d met while surfing, as he walked by.
Josh turned his head to look at him and raised an arm in the air.
‘Yeah mate, soon.’
He watched Chris and a few of his friends head towards the pool bar, then gazed up at the palm trees swaying gently in the soft breeze. For some reason this made him think of home. He was running out of holiday leave and money. He needed to book a return flight to Sydney in the next few days but just the thought of returning to reality, going back to his mess of a life, made his chest constrict and his heart beat at double the pace.
Running away had been easy. It had also been cowardly. Going back to face the music, to deal with the consequences of deserting his mother, deserting Lexie, was going to be one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. Mum . . . Lexie . . .
Dad . . .
Facing his father would be easy. The rancid fear Josh had always felt in his presence was long gone. The anger had not.
The formidable Doctor Harrison was now a decrepit and sickly man who no longer remembered why he had always shunned his only son. He had already forgotten his favourite child, Jenna, who had been dead less than two months. Josh thought it bitterly unfair. Even if he died a slow and painful death from dementia, he had still been spared the emotional suffering he deserved. He would never feel the guilt and shame of his mental abuse or be aware of the trauma he’d caused each member of his family, in one way or another. When he died, the great Doctor Harrison would be free. Yet Josh and his mother would never be rid of the scars he’d inflicted.
The mobile in the backpack next to Josh began to ring. It startled him and knocked his sour thoughts away. Rolling onto his side, he fished around inside the near-empty bag until his hand connected with his mobile. Josh checked the caller identification; it was blocked.
‘Hello.’
‘Josh, it’s Brad.’
‘Hey mate, good to hear from you.’
Josh sat up and adjusted the back of the sun-bed so he could lean against it.
‘How’s the weather there in Sydney? It’s about 45 degrees here in Kuta.’
‘That’s great. Got Bali belly yet?’
Josh laughed.
‘No Bali belly.’
‘Sick of surfing every day, lying by the pool, massages by the beach? How many Bin-tang T-shirts have you got by now?’
‘Too many. I’d buy you one but they don’t make them that big.’
‘Always the smartarse. Have you had enough?’ Brad asked.
Brad’s usual banter was familiar but his jovial tone was missing. Josh sensed something was wrong.
‘Is everything all right, Humphrey?’
‘Don’t call me Humphrey,’ Brad replied, gruffly.
Brad hated the nickname Josh had bestowed upon him. Josh thought it suited him perfectly. Humphrey B. Bear was an Australian icon that Aussie kids had loved and grown up with during the seventies and eighties. He was big, cuddly and happy. Just like Brad – most of the time.
Josh laughed. Brad did not.
Sitting bolt upright, cold fingers of dread squeezed Josh’s gut. He swallowed hard before asking, ‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s time you came home,’ Brad told him matter-of-factly. ‘Lexie and I are working on a murder.’
The mention of her name was like a stake to his heart.
‘A nurse was found dead at Clovelly Beach and . . . Look, I won’t go into it over the phone but in the course of our investigation it seems we’ve uncovered . . . uhmmm, something is not quite right about Jenna’s death.’
Josh’s insides tightened further.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m not being smart, but can you tell me exactly how Jenna died?’
Brad spoke slowly as though picking his words carefully.
‘What? She took an overdose of pills. She killed herself.’
Josh couldn’t believe Brad would ask him that question.
‘Why are you—?’
Brad cut him off.
‘I thought it was just a crazy idea at first. I thought Lexie was heading off course. But it’s starting to have some substance the more I find out. Not that I’ll admit it to Lexie until I know more, but . . .’
Josh sighed.
‘Get to the point, Brad. What are you talking about?’
‘It’s complicated but I’ll try to explain things best I can . . . It appears our murder victim has been given a hot-shot. An intentional overdose of OxyContin – the same drug Jenna overdosed on.’
Josh scoffed.
‘Are you serious? Hundreds of people overdose on that shit. It’s a common—’
‘Just let me finish; hear me out,’ Brad demanded. ‘When the pathologist carried out the autopsy on our victim she found an injection site at the base of the neck. It appears she was stabbed with a needle, in the trapezium or trapezius muscle or something like that. To cut a long story short, the doctor had seen something, another case, very similar. As it turns out, she was talking about Jenna.’
‘Jenna hated needles. She wouldn’t have injected herself with anything. Or let anyone else do it, for that matter.’
‘That’s exactly what her doctor said. I’m waiting on the autopsy report. Another thing; our victim was found clutching a red rose in her hands and so was your sister.’
Josh was confused.
‘You’re telling me you think Jenna didn’t kill herself? That her death is linked to this murder you’ve got right now?’
‘It is a possibility,’ Brad stated. ‘Did you speak to the investigating detective, Steve James?’
Josh was ashamed to answer.
‘To tell you the truth, mate, it is all a bit of a blur. I don’t really remember. I know I did speak to a detective from Maroubra but I was under the impression Jenna took an overdose of pills. He didn’t tell me otherwise and I didn’t ask anything further. I don’t think I really wanted to know the gory details.’
‘Well, I know Detective James and let’s just say it would not surprise me if the investigation into Jenna’s death was not completely thorough. He is not the most competent detective around. He didn’t even speak to Jenna’s psychiatrist and clearly didn’t read the autopsy report. It was all too easy, because of her history and mental issues, to write it off as a suicide.’
Brad paused.
‘There is another link, as well. Doctor Rod Bream is linked to your sister and our victim.’
‘That’s Dani’s ex-boyfriend,’ Josh confirmed.
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