‘You can sit on the other bed if you like,’ the paramedic said. ‘I’m Brett by the way. I’ll be up front. If you need me just press the button and speak into this microphone.’ He pointed to a device on the wall, then slammed the door shut.
I clenched my teeth and eased my backside onto the edge of the thin mattress, then shut my eyes, waiting for something to happen. I felt the ambulance move and opened my eyes. I looked across at Gran.
She had closed her eyes. The whole experience had been traumatic and exhausting for her. I sat down properly and took her hand, willing some of my strength to flow into her.
She opened her eyes and looked at me. ‘You’re OK?’
‘I am. It’s amazing. I had a feeling I would be.’
She squeezed my hand tighter. Her eyes opened wide for a second and then a smile spread across her face.
‘What’s the matter, Gran?’ I said.
‘Nothing, sweetheart. Everything’s just as it should be.’ She closed her eyes and was asleep before the ambulance had even left the hospital.
‘Are you comfortable, Gran?’ I bent to adjust the pillows behind her head for the fifteenth time in as many minutes.
‘Would you stop fussing, dear? I’m fine.’
‘The nurse will be here shortly. I’m not sure that I should go back with Ed, though. It’s not that important. I think I should stay here with you.’
‘I want you to go. I need to rest and you need to go and get your things. Your mother and the nurse can manage one old lady between them.’
Mum had got as far as the doorway to say hello before I’d banished her back to her bedroom. She still looked like death warmed up. At Gran’s insistence I’d made her a herbal concoction, which seemed to help a bit, but the flu was the flu and there wasn’t much that could be done about it.
I sank into one of the battered armchairs next to Gran’s bed. Domiciliary care had set up a proper hospital bed for her in the sunroom off the kitchen. Upstairs was too awkward, so we’d decided that the sunroom was the next best option. It was warm and looked out over Gran’s beloved garden.
I took her hand and we sat there, looking out the windows. Most of the trees in our garden were natives or evergreens, but the few that were deciduous were decked in their best autumn finery. A few late iceberg roses were clinging to the bushes and a smattering of daisies and pelargoniums added splashes of pink, red and purple. Shadow was curled up next to Gran but I could see Jasmine crouched low in the long grass, watching a wattlebird that was busy splashing in the birdbath.
‘I’m glad to be out of the hospital,’ Gran said.
‘I’m glad you’re out too.’
We watched as Jasmine crouched and quivered, ready to spring. She leapt out of the grass in a single bound, swiping for the bird. It exploded out of the bath in a flurry with Jasmine hot on its tail-feathers.
‘That was close,’ Gran said.
‘The birds around here are used to a lazier breed of feline. I don’t think Shadow has bothered to try and catch a bird for at least five years. Our feathered friends will have to smarten up their act or they’ll end up as lunch,’ I said.
‘You’re staying, then?’ Gran said.
‘Yes. Ed and I have talked about it. We’re moving back. We’ll look for a place together.’
‘That’s good. Your mother will be glad to have you around.’
‘My mother? What about you?’
She smiled and kissed my hand. ‘I always love having you around.’
‘Gran?’
‘Mmm?’
‘I didn’t get any visions in the ambulance.’
‘No, you didn’t.’
‘I had a feeling I wouldn’t. I didn’t get any in the High Dependency Unit either. Or when I was walking through the hospital corridors.’
‘No.’
‘I just don’t understand why. The last time I was in an ambulance I had multiple visions, and hospitals are normally terrible places for me.’
Gran nodded.
‘What do you think?’ I bit my lip. ‘Do you think it’s because I’ve killed someone?’
‘No, I don’t. You can stop worrying about that. You did what you thought was right and you shouldn’t worry that you’re somehow being punished for it. You’ll work out what’s going on in time. You’ve spent half your life wishing your gift away. Maybe you should just enjoy not having it for a while.’
I studied her profile. I had the distinct impression she was holding something back but it seemed wrong to badger someone who’d just been let out of intensive care.
She squeezed my hand.
‘I love you, Cass. I’m so glad you and Ed are working things out. I’m very happy for you. He’s a good man and he loves you very much.’
Ed chose that moment to stick his head through the doorway.
‘Will I put the kettle on? We can have a cuppa and then hit the road.’
An hour later we were on our way back to Adelaide.
‘What’s up?’ Ed said.
‘I can’t help thinking I should have stayed. I’ve got this knot of anxiety right in the middle of my chest,’ I said, rubbing my sternum.
‘I wouldn’t have minded if you’d stayed.’
‘I know, but Gran didn’t want me to. I think she would have pushed me out the door if she was up for it.’
‘The nurse seems very capable.’
‘Yeah, I know. I’m being silly.’
‘No, you’re just feeling guilty because you think this is your fault.’
‘That’s because it is.’
‘No. No one is responsible for the actions of a crazy person. Trust me, I’m an expert on self-flagellation and even I’ve come to accept that. What else is up?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Come on, I know you better than that. You’ve been brooding since we left Jewel Bay.’
‘My talent isn’t working.’
‘What?’
‘It’s stopped working. Think about it. No visions in the ambulance, none in the hospital. It’s weird.’
‘But isn’t that good?’
‘Yeah, I guess so.’
‘Gee, there’s no pleasing some people.’ He laughed and rolled his eyes. ‘Maybe no one had died in that ambulance. It could have been new. As for the hospital, I think you just got lucky. It’s not like a big city hospital where people lie on beds in the corridors. Maybe you just didn’t cross any places where people had died.’
‘Maybe but I want to test it.’
‘You what?’
‘I want to go back to that park near our place where I had the vision and see if I get it again.’
‘That’s nuts.’
‘Is it? If you suddenly stopped hearing wouldn’t you want to find out if it was your ears or if you were just in a quiet place?’
‘I suppose.’
Ed’s phone rang. He hit the hands-free.
‘Dyson? Where are you?’ Arnott’s voice exploded out of the speaker.
‘On my way back to Adelaide.’
‘Have you heard from Reynolds this morning?’
‘No. He’s not at work?’
‘Would I be asking the fucking question if he were here?’
Ed’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel like a vice. I was sure he was wishing it was his boss’ neck.
‘I haven’t heard from him since yesterday morning,’ Ed said.
‘He went to see that Jacobs woman last night. While he was there he called and left a message for Janice saying he had a lead on one of the vic’s last movements and was going to see some homeless people who hung out under the Morphett Street Bridge. He mentioned Mark Saunders as well. Hoped he might be there.’
‘Janice didn’t go with him?’ Ed said.
‘She has the flu. She didn’t even get the message until she crawled out of bed this morning. I don’t know what the fuck he was thinking. Who does he think he is? Fucking supercop?’
‘He’s not answering his phone?’<
br />
‘What the fuck do you think? How far away are you?’
‘About thirty minutes.’
‘Swing by his house, will you?’
‘I will, but he said he was going to see Beth Crowley this morning. Maybe he went on the way into the office.’
‘Jesus H. Christ. She’s a possible suspect too.’ The volume of Arnott’s voice climbed a few more decibels.
‘Not a very likely one. We don’t have anything concrete to link her to Simpson.’
‘The fuck we don’t. Janice went to the Hutt Street Centre and talked to the bloke that runs the place. Turns out he remembered Dr Crowley and Thomas Simpson. Simpson was definitely a visitor while she was a volunteer there.’
‘Right. Dave might be with her … I’ll stop off at her place first. If he’s not there I’ll check his place, then head down to the bridge, and Mrs Jacobs’ if he still hasn’t turned up … I might be late for our meeting.’
‘Fuck that, just find your bloody partner. And when you do, kick his arse for me.’ He hung up.
The deafening silence that followed was so full of tension I felt like it was smothering me. I wanted to reassure Ed that everything was fine but the words wouldn’t mean a thing.
‘I can’t believe he went to talk to a bunch of homeless people under a bridge, at night, by himself. That’s just stupid, especially if he thought Saunders might be there,’ Ed said, breaking the silence. ‘And to top it all off he might be interviewing another suspect as we speak.’
‘He must have thought he’d be safe enough. Most homeless people are just down on their luck, they’re not dangerous …’
‘True, but he was the one who came up with the theory about homeless people preying on other homeless and, if I remember rightly, it was also Dave that said Dr Crowley might have chopped up her old man to save on funeral expenses.’
‘He’s definitely got a good imagination but do you really think he might have stumbled across the killer?’
‘I hope not. I hope he’s drunk and shacked up with some girl.’
‘Has he ever done this before?’
Ed’s face twisted. ‘Never. He’s more reliable than Australia Post.’
CHAPTER
33
We arrived at Beth Crowley’s house to find it locked up tighter than a miser’s money box. Ed spent five minutes hammering on the door and trying to peer through windows but there were no signs of life. It was a phrase that almost tumbled out of my mouth when he got back into the car. I bit it back just in time. Those kind of dark thoughts were probably already at the back of Ed’s mind without me voicing them. We drove to Dave’s place in tense silence.
Dave lived in a townhouse in Burnside, one of Adelaide’s highly desirable, leafy eastern suburbs. In real estate terms, it was the polar opposite of the blue-collar suburbs around Port Adelaide, where Ed had told me Dave had grown up. I’d begun to realise that most aspects of Dave’s life were designed to prove how far he’d come.
I waited in the car while Ed jogged up the front path and gave the brass knocker a work out. I could tell from the way he was hopping from foot to foot that he wasn’t expecting Dave to answer.
They’d been partners for nearly a year, and from what Ed had told me the guy never overslept, ever. No matter what he got up to in his private life he was always on time for work, looking schmick and well rested. It wasn’t a skill that had rubbed off on Ed.
I wound down my window and listened to the sounds of distant lawnmowers and whipper snippers. Ed suddenly stooped down and tugged something out from under the door. It was a piece of pink paper. I watched as he held it up to his nose, then opened it and read it. He shook his head, then shoved the note back under the door.
He gave one more half-hearted knock before walking over to the garage and trying the door. It was locked. Lastly, he pulled out his mobile and dialled. I could hear the phone ringing faintly inside.
His face was set in grim lines of anxiety as he hustled back down the path and jumped in the car.
‘Anything?’ I asked.
‘Proof that he didn’t come home last night. One of his girlfriends left a call me when you get in note under his door, complete with a heavy dousing of perfume and a lipstick kiss.’
‘Any chance he might just have missed it?’
‘Not likely. I could smell it before I got anywhere near it.’
‘What now?’
‘I want to check Morphett Street Bridge. I’m not expecting anyone to be there at this time of day, but I want to make sure. I’ll drop you at our place on the way through.’
‘Like hell you will. I’m coming with you.’
Ed heaved a sigh that threatened to shake the car windows. ‘Cass, you know that’s a really bad idea. I don’t know what I’m going to find.’
‘Hopefully the only thing you’ll find is Dave, alive and well. I could be useful. If the spot under the bridge is where people have been getting themselves killed, I might get something to help you.’
‘Weren’t you just telling me you don’t think your talent is working?’
‘I was, but like you said, I might be wrong. We don’t have time to put it to the test.’
‘No, we don’t. And I’m worried. There’s no good reason for Dave to be missing.’
‘Then let me help you find him.’
He nodded. ‘Let’s go.’
The drive from Burnside to the heart of the city only took about twenty-five minutes. It was close to midday, so the school run and early morning commute were well and truly over. Parking wasn’t easy, but Ed finally managed to negotiate the road works and clearways and left the car in a loading zone close to the bridge with his police sign on display.
‘I gotta get me one of those,’ I muttered.
We covered the distance to the Morphett Street Bridge in tense silence. Ed strode along the footpath, leaving me to huff and puff in his wake, a pattern we seemed to repeat in moments of extreme stress. Ed would forget any vestige of consideration or chivalry and leave me running along behind in a cloud of dust and testosterone.
We finally made it up the hill and found the stairs that led down the riverbank and under the bridge. I followed Ed into the darkness beneath. The drumming of the traffic overhead echoed around us. The water in the river was still and smelled of rotting organic material.
It took a while for my eyes to adjust after the brightness of the sun. In addition to the stagnant water, the space reeked of stale smoke, urine and rubbish. I covered my mouth and fought the urge to throw up.
There was no one in sight. A forty-gallon drum sat by one of the cement pillars, a crude grill spanning the top. The faint smell of cooked meat lingered.
‘That smells rancid,’ I said, my hand still over my mouth.
‘Yeah, I wouldn’t like to eat anything cooked on it, but I guess if you’re starving you’re not going to be choosy,’ Ed said.
We exchanged a look in the gloom.
‘I need to get a team down here to bag that up and sweep the scene,’ Ed said. He yanked his mobile out of his pocket and barked a series of instructions at the unfortunate person on the other end.
The call over, he pulled a torch out of his pocket and shone it over the ground around the drum and back along the path we’d followed. Rubbish was scattered along the sides: newspapers, crushed cans, broken glass, but nothing that told us anything about who had been here.
‘I was hoping for a clue, something to tell us Dave had been here and where he went,’ I said.
‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not Sherlock and you’re not Watson. Real life isn’t full of clues to piece together if only you’re clever enough.’
There was an edge to his voice. I could hear the anxiety.
‘Let me see if I get anything.’
I could see his jaw muscles bunching as he clenched his teeth but he stepped back to let me pass.
The path was wide enough for two people to walk abreast quite easily, so I walked along the left side until
I emerged into daylight at the other side of the bridge and then turned and came back along the right-hand side. I walked slowly, half-expecting to be snapped into someone’s painful final moments at any second. My nausea was back too. I was terrified that if I did get a vision it would be of Dave’s last moments. When I took the final few steps and reached Ed’s side without getting anything I was weak with relief. If my talent wasn’t working it might not mean much but it was something positive for Ed to cling to.
‘Nothing,’ I said.
‘Thank God.’ He ran a shaky hand through his hair.
‘Come on. Let’s go and see Mrs Jacobs. Maybe she can help us.’
‘I hope she’ll talk to me. I’m not her favourite member of the police force,’ Ed said.
‘Great. What did you do?’
‘I might have implied she was abusing her son.’
‘Terrific. I think it’s just as well I’m here, don’t you?’
We climbed back up the stairs and headed for the car. Thankfully, the walk back was downhill and I almost managed to keep up with Ed’s adrenaline-fuelled pace, though I was still puffing and bathed in sweat by the time I buckled up.
‘Mrs Jacobs’ is only a few minutes from here. It’s on Wellington Square,’ Ed said.
That meant nothing to me. I tugged my handbag onto my lap and fished around for my mobile. I was still feeling guilty about leaving Mum and Gran for the day, despite the urgency of the search for Dave.
‘What’s up?’ Ed asked.
‘I just want to check in and see how Gran and Mum are going.’
‘I’m sure they’re fine. Nurse Ratched will have them whipped into line.’
‘That’s not very nice. She seemed very efficient.’
The nurse had arrived promptly. Her uniform was so starched it would probably stand up by itself when she took it off, and her expression was just as stiff. Smiling clearly didn’t come naturally to her.
‘Efficient or officious?’ Ed said.
‘Competent,’ I replied. My probing fingers finally found my phone and pulled it out. I poked at the screen. It stayed stubbornly black.
Missing (The Cass Lehman Series Book 3) Page 23