Fishing through her bag, Lexie threw two twenty-dollar notes onto the table.
‘That’s for my half.’
Not that she had eaten anywhere near half. Nonetheless, she refused to be indebted to Steve James for anything.
‘I’ve got an early start in the morning.’
Lexie stood to leave. Plucking her leather jacket from the back of her chair, she draped it around her shoulders.
‘Is that it? You’re just going to leave?’
Steve’s tone was arrogant to say the least. It tipped her waning patience over the edge. She was past being pleasant to this jerk. She might not get a copy of Jenna’s suicide note, but she was going to tell him what she thought of him.
Not caring that people were staring, Lexie loomed over him.
‘You bet I’m going to leave . . . Oh, and I neglected to mention, I also had a crush on you years ago; although that was before I’d spent any time in your company.’
There was so much more Lexie could say but there was no point in hurling abuse or degrading him in public. Was there? No, she was better than that.
Leaning down closer, she quietly added, ‘Just so you know, I’ll also be looking into your sloppy investigation into Jenna Harrison’s death. You had better hope for the sake of your career that you didn’t write off a murder as a suicide.’
Steve James stared at Lexie in disbelief. But when he spoke, she realised her last words, or threat some would say, was inconsequential. His mind was still fully focused on what was in his pants – or what was in hers.
‘So you’re seriously not coming home with me? I can promise you won’t regret it.’
Unbelievable!
Was he completely stupid? Or was his ego so engorged he could not comprehend a knock-back?
Lexie glanced around the restaurant. They had everyone’s attention.
At the top of her voice she said, ‘No, I am not going to come home with you. I would rather stick pins in my eyes than ever see you again.’
With that comment, Lexie turned and walked calmly out of the restaurant, leaving Steve James and a number of amused patrons, gaping in her wake.
CHAPTER 24
Rex crept along the hallway towards Sandy’s bedroom. The rusty hinges screeched like nails down a chalkboard as he pushed the old wooden door open. He cringed. Once inside the room, he carefully pulled the door closed behind him. Every noise magnified in the silence of the night and as the door clicked shut, the sound resonated like a bullet through a cave.
Shit . . .
He froze, held his breath. Numerous excuses as to why he was sneaking around his own house spun through his head. He waited a long moment. Then, when he was certain he hadn’t woken Kate or the baby, Sophie, Rex let go of the air in his lungs.
Sandy’s room was the smallest of the three bedrooms in the Maroubra cottage that had been their home for almost six months. There was no way they could have remained living in the old hovel at Bronte – that had doubled as the Devil’s Guardians clubhouse – after his mate, Bluey, had been executed through the lounge room window. Too many bad memories!
Rex glanced around at his elder daughter’s room. It was sparsely furnished with only a double bed, a chest of drawers, one bedside table and a small portable wardrobe. The room was surprisingly tidy, so he would have to be careful not to disturb anything, leave any obvious signs he had been in here.
Where would she hide her stash of drugs?
Rex spotted a hand-carved jewellery box sitting on top of the chest of drawers. He picked it up and carried it to the bed. As he sat down, the springs creaked beneath his weight and he cursed under his breath. Opening the lid, he sorted through the assortment of chains, necklaces, watches and rings until his fingers paused on the tiniest of chains. It was so small it only just fitted around his thumb. He read the name inscribed into the little heart-shaped charm, ‘Alexandra’. Not that she went by that name anymore. Rex had bought this bracelet for his daughter just after she was born. He couldn’t believe she still had it. Sadly, he wondered if Sandy had any idea where it had come from, or who’d given it to her.
As he held the tiny gold bracelet in his hand, Rex’s mind spun backwards to the day he’d come home to find Debbie and his daughter gone. His wife had left no note and no trace. It had been the darkest time in Rex’s life and he had gone off the rails big time. For the first week he had been unable to get out of bed. Then, when he finally did, he got on his motorbike and rode to Melbourne. Why? He couldn’t remember, because he’d been so drugged off his face he was lucky to have survived the journey. The next few weeks were a blur of alcohol and drug abuse. He did not wake up to himself until he woke up – literally – at the Royal Melbourne Hospital after overdosing on his first taste of heroin.
Luckily for Rex, the young cop who had found him unconscious and barely breathing in a derelict house in a back street of St Kilda was one of a kind. He had come back to visit him in hospital. He had told Rex that he was on the verge of losing everything.
‘Don’t throw your life away,’ he’d said. ‘You have a choice. Make the right one.’
For some reason this young cop’s words resonated with Rex and made a massive impact. The fact that a cop could see some sort of value in his life had made all the difference. Rex made his choice then and there; he, too, wanted to make a difference.
Rex had applied the next week to join the Victorian police force. Having been brought up rough, by a single mother in a small house full of half siblings, he’d experienced a few brushes with the law as a juvenile. But after his eighteenth birthday, he’d pulled his head in for fear of getting a criminal record – or worse, going to gaol. So his record was clean and although he’d left school before completing his higher school certificate, his trade as a mechanic got him through the door to the academy.
It had been the best move he had ever made.
And he had kept in touch with the cop who had saved him. In fact, they’d ended up working together for a while. He had been the one to recommend Rex apply to join the federal police and almost immediately he’d been recruited and trained as an undercover operative.
It was a role that fitted him perfectly, even if he did say so himself. Rex knew how to talk the talk. He’d lived on the streets for a period, blended with the worst of them. He’d done hard drugs. He knew how to fight if anyone was game enough to take him on. He didn’t look like a cop, didn’t act like one and since he looked more like a bikie than some bikies, it made him the perfect candidate to infiltrate their world.
Working his way into the Devil’s Guardians had taken time. It was certainly no nine-to-five job. It was a lifestyle and working undercover was no easy existence. There was a very fine line that had to be walked, and Rex was well aware that sometimes operatives forgot which side of that line they were on. The role was not for the faint-hearted because you always lived with the fear of discovery. You had to be one of the gang . . . and yet you were not.
Spending a lot of time in pubs doing business with the criminal element had led him to Kate. She was rough around the edges, she’d had a shit life, but then so had he – they were the perfect fit, even though she did his head in sometimes. But he had noticed Kate had mellowed since having Sophie.
Rex had learnt a lot from his experience with the Devil’s Guardians. Firstly, he’d discovered not all bikies are bad. They were sometimes given a bad rap by the media, society in general. It was just like in the cops. A few bad seeds, exposed as doing the wrong thing, could contaminate the majority. He’d weeded out the unsavoury members of the motorcycle gang quick smart. A call to the right person had them out of the way in no time and none the wiser as to who’d ratted out their illegal activities.
One of Rex’s greatest regrets about that time in his life was that he had been unable to bring down Harry Burgh, a corrupt and evil cop. Rex and Bluey had nicknamed Harry Burgh ‘the Grub’, which was his name spelt backwards – H. Grub. Take off the H and it was just Grub. It suited him perf
ectly.
Burgh’s criminal empire was extensive and for years one of his chief activities had been to extort money from the Devil’s Guardians bikie gang. When this had come to Rex’s notice, he’d put a stop to it and was about to notify internal affairs when Bluey had been killed. What Rex eventually discovered was that Burgh had wanted to make an example out of him. He’d wanted to send a warning that to defy him was a fatal mistake. He had set out to assassinate Rex. But he had stuffed up and murdered his mate instead.
Rex had wanted vengeance for Bluey’s senseless murder so ferociously that he had struggled morally. Burgh was a seasoned crook. He knew the system and played it well. He was slippery and bringing him to justice was going to be, it seemed, a near-impossible task. But Rex had been prepared to do things by the book; follow the law, as he had pledged to do. He had made a vow to himself that he would hunt Burgh down for as long as it took and put him away to rot behind bars for the rest of his life.
But then Burgh had tried to kill him. And set Sandy up to take the rap for Bluey’s murder; as well as bashing her to within an inch of her life and leaving her for dead in Centennial Park. Rex had come to the grim realisation that the only way to deal with Burgh was on his own terms.
That’s why Rex had been following him the day Burgh planned to kill Lexie. Not that Rex knew anything about that at the time. It was due to the workings of blind fate that Rex had been there to help the detective who had reunited him with his daughter. All Rex knew was that he had to do something to keep himself, his family, everyone he loved, safe. It went against everything he had been trained for, but he’d had no other choice.
But as it turned out, Sue Field, Burgh’s partner in crime, another rotten egg detective, got to Burgh first. Not content to be his puppet any longer, and seeing Burgh as a barrier standing in the way of her infatuation with Max Croft, the sergeant-at-arms of rival bikie gang the Assassins, she’d turned on him and shot Burgh dead. Apparently Sue had got it in her deranged mind that the reason Croft had declined her advances was because he believed her to be ‘Burgh’s woman’. With him out of the way, she was free to be with Max Croft. However, Croft had other ideas. He had no interest in Sue whatsoever.
Rex could picture the scene in his head. Staring through glass doors, he saw Sue Field, her back to him. He could see the gun she was pointing at Lexie Rogers. In between both women lay the bloodied body of Harry Burgh. Lexie looked terrified. She had her arms in the air and she was pleading for her life. Rex had been momentarily confused. Then it hit him. Lexie knew too much. As Bluey lay dying, he had told her the Grub had shot him. Scared that she would discover he was the Grub, and being the only witness to Bluey’s dying words, Burgh had planned, with Field, to get rid of her. Burgh had killed his former partner, Lexie’s brother, for knowing too much about his criminal activities. Although Field had altered the plan and killed Burgh, Lexie had seen the whole thing, so Sue Field had decided she had no choice but to shoot her.
Rex had shot Sue Field through the glass doors. The bullet hit her in the back and pierced her heart. He had killed her instantly. But not before she got one shot away; a shot that could have cost Lexie her life.
But it didn’t . . . Rex pushed away the disturbing images.
A car door slammed outside the window and snapped him back to the present. He peered between the blinds and was relieved to see it was no one he knew. Hurry up, let’s get this over with, he told himself, as he moved towards Sandy’s cosmetics and rifled around as quietly as he could. Nothing jumped out at him.
Where would I hide something I didn’t want to be found?
Under the floorboards? No, that was a bit extreme.
Rex thought back to all the searches he’d conducted with the Victorian police. He’d found piles of money in freezers, holes in walls, inside computers, under floors, stuck to the back of television sets. He had found ecstasy tablets expertly concealed inside cans of hairspray and heroin powder stored in vitamin C bottles.
Cautiously, he opened the top drawer of her dresser and was surprised to find the brown paper bag he had seen the guy in the pub hand her. This was too easy. Sandy hadn’t even tried to hide it. Then again, she wouldn’t have thought Rex would be looking for anything either.
Reaching into the drawer and pulling out the package, Rex quickly opened it, being careful not to tear the wrapping. Inside there was a small jewellery box. Clever, Rex thought, flipping the top open. For a moment he just stood and stared open-mouthed at what was inside. It was a watch. A man’s watch. What the hell? And there was a little card next to it.
Maybe he was mistaken. There must be another package, Rex thought. He looked a bit further, but deep down he knew this was the parcel he’d seen being exchanged at the pub. He should be pleased it wasn’t what he’d been dreading. But he’d been so sure he had witnessed a drug deal. That his beloved daughter was heading back down the destructive road that had almost claimed her life before they had been reunited.
He smiled and shook his head. This must be a present for Rowdy. It had probably fallen off the back of a truck – hence the strange meeting to get it. But he didn’t care about that. Rex’s relief that at least it wasn’t drugs was palpable. Then he remembered; it was his birthday next week. This watch might be for him. He opened the card.
To the best Dad in the world,
I’m so glad you found me.
Happy birthday. I love you so much.
All my love, your Alexandra (Sandy) xxx
Guilt stabbed at his insides like a knife piercing through flesh. How could he have doubted her?
Then he remembered the photographs he had sent to Lexie. Shit. He’d better let her know it wasn’t as sinister as it appeared. He only hoped the guy in the photograph hadn’t been brought in, or arrested, or worse. Putting everything back the way he found it, Rex tiptoed out of his elder daughter’s room and went outside to call Lexie Rogers.
CHAPTER 25
Nearly there, Lexie assured herself, as she climbed the flight of stairs that led to her flat. Her body was so exhausted each movement was an effort. She had nearly reached the top, was almost on the landing, when she froze mid-step. Her heart jumped into her throat and she grabbed the handrail for support.
What the hell was Zack doing here?
She was instantly put out, angry at the intrusion. Goose-bumps broke out across the back of her neck and she reminded herself to hang on to the anger because, without it, she might get scared. How did he know where she lived?
Trying to keep the fear from her voice, Lexie manufactured a calm expression.
‘What are you doing here, Zack?’
‘I need to talk to you.’ He looked unravelled. ‘I just needed to talk to you.’
Lexie automatically did an internal risk assessment. Zack was in front of her. If she turned around and fled down the stairs, there was nothing blocking her exit. She took in his clothing: tight blue jeans clung to lean legs, white long-sleeve T-shirt that hugged his trim waist, and on his feet, a pair of black runners – nowhere to conceal a weapon. His usually messy blond hair was brushed neatly off his face and his blue eyes were clear, not bloodshot or dilated. He didn’t appear to be drug- or alcohol-affected. He had control of his faculties and he seemed in control of himself, if a little nervous.
Get a grip, Lexie. This is Zack, your ex-husband, not some serial killer.
‘There is such a thing as a phone, you know?’
‘I thought you’d give me the brush-off. I couldn’t take that chance.’
Actually she was grateful he hadn’t called her. If they did frequent checks on his phone it would show he had dialled her number.
‘How did you know where I lived?’ Lexie asked, suddenly fearing the answer.
Had he been following her? She had bumped into him a lot lately. Was that a coincidence, as she’d assumed, or was there more to it? Zack had made no secret of the fact he wanted her back. How many times had he made reference to the fact he was ‘still waiting for her t
o forgive him’? Almost every time she had seen him.
Had Zack taken his obsession with winning back her affections to a new level? He could be very determined, always wanting what he couldn’t have. That’s what had ended their marriage in the first place.
‘Kelly just moved into a flat across the street. She has seen your car parked out the front,’ he explained, quickly. ‘She’s seen you come and go, so she assumed you live here. Your name is on the letterbox out the front, so I knew which unit you were in.’
So that was why her ex-sister-in-law’s car had been parking in her spot lately.
‘Can you tell Kelly to find her own parking spot and not steal mine,’ Lexie said, angrily.
Kelly and Lexie had once been close but the collapse of her marriage had managed to ruin that relationship too. It was too awkward and uncomfortable to remain friends with your ex-husband’s sister. Well, at least in their case, it was.
Zack looked confused but nodded anyway.
‘Can we go inside so your neighbours don’t hear us?’
The hairs on the back of Lexie’s neck stood on end and her stomach clenched. Her gun was in her bag. She’d kept it on her in case she was called out. That’s what she told herself anyway. Hugging her handbag tightly to her waist, the weighty bulk of her firearm allowed her a sense of reassurance and protection. Maybe it was a false sense of security? You should never underestimate a person. Zack was stronger than her, of course he was. He was a fit male. He could have her on the ground in a second, before she had time to reach for her gun.
Oh, for God’s sake, you were married to this guy. He was never physically violent.
She was letting herself get carried away again. Paranoia was self-destructive, she reminded herself. Not everyone was out to get her.
‘Come inside,’ Lexie said, reluctantly.
Reaching into her bag for the keys, her fingers brushed the leather holster her gun was secured within. She took a deep breath and tried to keep her hand steady as she put the key in the lock.
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