by J. M. Peace
Sunday 10:32 am
Bill poked his head out of his office.
‘They’ve found the remains of a body at Yonga,’ he called across to Janine.
The room started buzzing with questions.
‘Is it Sammi?’
‘Is it Tahlia?’
‘Neither, by the looks of it. So far, there are some scraps of clothes and a shoe too,’ Bill announced. ‘The bones look too old to be either of our girls, and the clothes don’t match. Missing Persons are onto it, checking what’s been found of the clothing against their files.’
He walked across to Janine’s desk so he was no longer calling across the room.
‘I told them to check the details against the missing prostitute that the barman was questioned about,’ he said.
‘You’re convinced it’s all linked,’ Janine said. It was a statement, not a question.
‘Yes.’
‘So you’re saying we’ve got a dead-set serial killer on our hands, with at least three victims,’ Janine challenged.
‘It’s certainly possible. There are links between all three,’ Bill replied.
‘Those links are very tenuous,’ Janine said.
‘Yep, but I’m listening to my gut this time. So tell me – do you actually believe that they’re not linked? Or do you just not want to believe they’re linked because it will mean Sammi is almost certainly dead?’ Bill asked.
Janine shrugged without making eye contact with Bill. She didn’t have time for soul-searching. She had a missing copper to find.
Sunday 11:09 am
Don was in a filthy mood. Even his dog could tell. Zeus had his tail tucked between his legs and he cowered away from his master. The dog had already felt the pointy end of a boot a couple of times that morning and was keeping clear.
The previous day had not gone as planned. The excitement of the chase had eventually evaporated and he still hadn’t found the stupid bitch. How the hell had she found the tracker? She had been lucky but she would still die – he just wouldn’t bear witness to it. He consoled himself that she would see her death coming, creeping in with the cold night.
It hadn’t been a complete failure. He’d still seen her terror and felt the power coursing through his veins like a drug. He’d learnt from it too. He was already planning, coming up with new ideas. The next one would not get away.
Plus there was still one thrill to look forward to. His notoriety. He turned the radio on in the truck as he loaded the motorbike and strapped it down. The reception wasn’t great, but good enough to hear what was being said. Maybe it would be today, but probably not. Her friend was a drunken slut – who knew when she’d work out that her friend had disappeared?
He was nearly back out to the road before the news bulletin came on. He turned up the volume with a giddy sense of anticipation. A grin spread over his face as he heard the words ‘missing person’.
‘Police are appealing for help to locate missing person Samantha Leigh Willis. And they’re surely prepared to go the extra mile because Willis is a police officer herself . . .’
She was a copper!
‘Police would like to speak with Donald Charles Black . . .’
Don slammed on the brakes, sending Zeus into the dashboard with a yelp. It was surreal hearing his own name come over the radio.
‘. . . He is believed to be driving a white Toyota Landcruiser ute, with the registration 542GCU. There are significant concerns for her safety. Anyone with any information is asked to contact their local police immediately.’
Fuck.
Should he go back? Find her and finish her off properly in a style befitting her job. How hard could it be to find one tired bitch staggering around his hunting grounds?
He paused, then pushed down angrily on the accelerator. He hated second-guessing himself. There was no way she would make it out of the bush. No way. Being a fucking pig didn’t affect that at all. They’d never find her body, never pin him with it. They had nothing. And he would have killed a cop. There was an extra pleasure in that.
Had someone seen her getting in his car? So what? He’d given her a lift home after her friend had ditched her. All of that could be proven. They had nothing to link him to her disappearance. Just like when they’d questioned him about the first whore. Pigs were stupid. They followed their rules and if they couldn’t tick all their boxes they left you alone. They couldn’t think on their feet. Not like him. He was smart. Smarter than them.
He knew he’d have to find somewhere to hose out the back of his car, and soon. They had all sorts of things they could do with DNA. A sense of dread crept over him. Stupid bitch. He should have popped her while he had the chance.
He didn’t want to deal with their shit. He’d head for the border. He had everything he needed. His dog, his gun, his wallet. Go to the Northern Territory and not look back.
The news report had asked for public assistance to find him. So that meant they didn’t know where he was. If he kept to the back roads, and free-camped in the bush, it might take them days, even weeks to find him.
These thoughts were churning through his mind when he startled a mob of roos on the side of the bush track. It gave him an idea. Immediately, he stopped and jumped out, rifle in hand. He chose the animal closest to the ute so he wouldn’t have to drag it too far. He sighted down the barrel, blasting the roo through the back. He called the dog and they went down to the stricken beast. It was twitching and grunting. He’d taken out its backbone on purpose to remove its capacity to kick. He grabbed it by the legs, dragged it to the ute and hauled it into the tray. It was alive and bleeding heavily, exactly as he’d intended.
Don was pleased with this little brainwave. It reminded him just how clever he was. He favoured Zeus with a pat on the head. The cops had nothing on him. And they’d still have to catch him first. He smiled as he put the ute back into gear.
He’d get out of this, no worries.
Sunday 11:12 am
Gavin did not recognise the two men standing at his front door, but he immediately guessed they were detectives from the city. He had been around cops for long enough now to recognise the plain clothes ‘uniform’. No one local would turn up on his front porch in long-sleeved shirts and ties, sweating in the midmorning sun.
He felt immediate trepidation. Why would police he didn’t know turn up unannounced at his door? Everything that had happened up until now had been done through staff he knew at the local station. They had guided him through the processes and shielded him from over-zealous detectives who didn’t know him and didn’t know Sammi.
Gavin was convinced Shane was being straight up with him, telling him everything the investigators in Brisbane told him and leaving nothing out. What was this about? He doubted they would send in strangers to break bad news to him. That would be cowardly. Shane would not stand for that. This was about something else.
He opened the screen door and looked at the men expectantly. Both men looked to be in their thirties. The taller one had a paunch and the pasty complexion of someone who spent most of their time indoors. The other man was short, but had compensated by becoming extremely muscular. His biceps strained against his shirt sleeves and he held his arms bowed out from his body, as if he was carrying a watermelon under each arm.
The taller man offered his hand. ‘Gavin, isn’t it? My name is Detective Sergeant Barry Stanley. This is Detective Sergeant Matt Stansfeld. We’re with the Homicide Squad.’
Gavin’s heart stopped at the word homicide. This was the first time it had been mentioned. Up until now, it had been Missing Persons. Maybe they did have bad news. He paused as he processed this new development.
The taller man, Barry, must have seen the look of shock on his face and quickly clarified, ‘We don’t have any news for you. We just have a few questions to ask. To assist with the investigation.’
Gavi
n swallowed back the negative thoughts that had surfaced and stepped aside. ‘Please come in.’
He looked out the door as the men walked through, half-expecting to see Shane with them. There was no one else though, no familiar face to let him know what was going on and to decipher the subtext for him.
The three men went into the lounge room. There was a container of homemade biscuits on the coffee table, brought over by a neighbour.
‘Can I get you a cuppa? There’s some biscuits there too,’ Gavin said.
‘A cold drink would be great, just some water will be fine,’ Barry answered. ‘It’s a long drive up from Brisbane.’
Gavin disappeared into the kitchen, his mind ticking over. He quickly decided he was in no mood for games. When he returned to the lounge room with two glasses of cold water, he cut straight to the chase.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked. He directed his question at Barry as the other man had yet to say a word. ‘So far the guys at the station have been looking after me. Now I’ve got Ds from the Homicide Squad at my house. What’s happened?’
‘It’s OK, Gavin,’ Barry said. ‘Take a seat, we’ve just got a few more questions. You know what us coppers are like, we’ve always got more questions.’
He attempted a half-smile, trying to defuse the tension, but Gavin was not buying it.
‘You drove three hours to ask me some questions? You couldn’t get my phone number? There’s more to it than that. Why are you here?’ he said.
‘Yep, you’re right,’ Barry said. ‘Homicide Squad has just been involved now. I’m sorry, but it’s looking very much like Samantha has met with foul play. So now we start our investigation. And you’re part of our investigation.’
‘You think I’m involved.’
‘I didn’t say that. But a lot of homicide victims are killed by their husbands or partners, or people they knew. It would be remiss of us not to make some enquiries with you,’ Barry spoke calmly, making eye contact and trying to placate Gavin.
The other man remained mute, but watched Gavin intently.
‘Check with the local crew. I was here all night, they’ll vouch for me. And don’t tell me you don’t know about the barman.’
‘Oh, we know about the barman, and believe me, we’re doing everything we can to follow up all the leads so far. But we still need to clarify a couple of things with you. Please, take a seat. Come on, we’re all on the same side. We’re all trying to find Samantha.’
Gavin hesitated then relented, sitting in an armchair opposite Barry.
‘OK, so what do you need to know?’ he asked.
‘What happened that afternoon before Samantha left?’ Barry asked.
‘We had an argument. We were both angry. I took the dog for a run. When I came back, about a couple of hours later, Sammi was gone. I had settled down by then and tried to call her but she wouldn’t take my calls.’
‘What did you argue about?’ Barry asked.
‘Nothing really. Nothing important,’ Gavin answered.
‘So what was it? Money? Work?’ Barry asked.
‘I suggested we combine our bank accounts. She didn’t want to, and I accused her of not trusting me. That’s about it.’
‘Did it get violent?’ Barry asked.
‘No!’ Gavin replied emphatically. He wasn’t a wife-beater and didn’t like to be thought of in those terms. ‘I’ve never laid a finger on her. We both yell at each other, that’s about it.’
‘Do you trust her?’ Barry asked.
‘Yes. Completely. We’ve been together for three years. It wouldn’t have lasted that long if we didn’t trust each other. She just got the shits because I wanted her to change to my bank,’ Gavin answered. He hated the feeling of having to justify his emotions to some stranger.
Barry changed tack. ‘Do you know many people in Brisbane?’ he asked.
‘No, not really. A couple of old school mates live down there.’
‘Do you go down there often?’
‘No. If there’s a reason to go, I’ll drive down. Need my GPS though,’ Gavin answered.
‘Ever been to Forest Lake?’ Barry asked.
‘Is that where that bitch Candy lives? We visited her once.’
‘You don’t like Candy?’ At any other time, this may have been an offhand question, but today it carried some weight and Gavin immediately regretted what he’d called her.
‘No, never really took to her. And if she had stuck together with Sammi, made sure she got home OK instead of slutting around with a couple of strangers, we probably wouldn’t be sitting here. So, yes, I called her a bitch just now. She came out yesterday, apologised and left again. I’ve had nothing else to do with her.’
‘You mentioned the barman earlier on. Ever heard of him before?’
Gavin gave Barry a hard look.
‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘You think I’m involved with him?’ Gavin asked in a low, icy tone.
‘We just need all the information we can get,’ Barry said.
‘Is this an interview?’ Gavin’s anger started to build as he saw which way Barry’s ‘enquiries’ were headed. That’s why these two detectives had travelled up from Brisbane for this. None of the local blokes would have treated him this way.
‘No, we’re just . . .’ Barry started but Gavin cut him off as another thought occurred to him.
‘Are you recording this?’ Although he was a mechanic by trade, Gavin had been around the police for long enough to know some of the tricks and techniques.
‘Yeah,’ Barry said, giving a nonchalant shrug as he met Gavin’s icy stare. ‘You’d have to know that’s pretty standard these days. I’m sure Samantha carries a recorder at work.’
‘Well you can turn it off. There’s nothing I can tell you that I haven’t already told the local guys. I don’t like being treated like a suspect,’ Gavin spat the last word out. How dare these men come into his house and insinuate he helped make his girlfriend disappear.
‘So you’re saying you don’t want to answer any more of my questions?’ Barry said. Again, it was a loaded question. Gavin was unsure if he could step his way out of this minefield. These men were doing what they did best – ask questions, provoke answers. All Gavin wanted to do was kick them out of his house and send them on their way.
‘I had nothing to do with Sammi going missing. I love her, I want her back. That’s the bottom line,’ Gavin said, carefully enunciating each word.
‘All we’re trying to do is get all the information we can so we have the best chance of finding Samantha,’ Barry said.
‘It’s Sammi, everyone calls her Sammi. You’d know that if you knew anything about this case. You know nothing about her, you know nothing about me,’ he said tetchily.
This was starting to turn into a pointless conversation. He didn’t have any of the information they thought they might get from him. If he asked them to leave, that would put a whole different slant on the meeting, and they would draw conclusions that didn’t exist.
‘Hey, Gavin?’ A voice called out from the front door and Gavin recognised it with relief.
‘Tom,’ he called out, ‘come in, mate.’
Tom appeared, dressed in a faded T-shirt and baggy shorts.
‘Everything OK?’ He spoke to Gavin, but was clearly evaluating the two detectives.
‘These two gentlemen are from the Homicide Squad,’ Gavin said.
Tom’s head snapped around when he heard the word ‘homicide’. Gavin shook his head at the unspoken question.
Both men rose to their feet, shaking Tom’s hand and introducing themselves.
‘Tom works with Sammi,’ Gavin said. He wanted them to know he had someone in his corner now.
‘Has there been some news?’ Tom asked.
‘No,’ Gavin answered. ‘These gentlemen are just running their enquiries, tr
ying to find out if I was involved in Sammi’s disappearance. Tom, would you mind just clarifying that for them,’ Gavin said with mock politeness.
Tom put his hand on Gavin’s shoulder.
‘Mate, don’t take it personally. You were always going to be a suspect. That is, for anyone who doesn’t know you.’
He turned to the detectives who had remained standing. Just by his age and demeanour, Tom had ‘constable’ written all over him.
‘Look, there’s no way Gavin is involved in Sammi’s disappearance. I vouch for him personally.’
The two detectives exchanged glances.
Barry extended his hand to Gavin. ‘Thank you for your time, Gavin. We’ll let you know if we make any progress.’
Gavin shook both men’s hands and said nothing more till they were out the front door. He breathed out deeply and his shoulders, which had been squared against the intruders, dropped.
‘Those arseholes!’ he said to Tom. ‘God, you couldn’t have come at a better time.’
‘I was on my way to the shops,’ Tom said. ‘But when I saw some D car I didn’t recognise out the front of your house, I thought I better check in on you. Were they really trying to get something on you?’ Tom was animated and talking slightly faster than usual.
Gavin nodded. ‘They wouldn’t come out and say it but that was what they were getting at.’
‘That must have been why nobody knew they were coming. They would have known we’d all be on your side,’ Tom said.
‘Thanks . . .’ Gavin said, and all of a sudden he couldn’t trust his voice not to break up. Tom reached and over and squeezed his shoulder again.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ he said.
‘Where to?’ Gavin asked.
‘Anywhere but here.’
Sunday 11:20 am
It was so much easier nowadays, thought Bill, with technology. Twenty years ago it was typewritten statements filed somewhere, and hours to wait until photos were processed and hand-delivered. These days it was quick and effective. One of the detectives at the new crime scene at Yonga State Forest had taken photos of the remains they had found and sent them through to Bill’s phone. Missing Persons had emailed through the report number and now he could instantly compare the clothing from the scene with the description of the clothing worn by the missing prostitute.