A Time to Run

by J. M. Peace

  ‘Captain’s Creek,’ Tracey repeated as she scribbled it down.

  ‘We’d been hiking for a day and camped the night, so we were quite deep into the bush. We kept hearing a motorbike, which was odd. There’s really no trails. The bike wasn’t going fast, it was just droning along. We heard it for about an hour, coming closer.

  We got a bit curious and started walking towards it. We wanted to know what was going on, see if someone needed help. It was an unusual sound out in the scrub. We had our hunting rifles, so we could look after ourselves. Eventually we came across this man on a trail bike. As soon as he saw us, he turned off the bike and a big brown pigging dog jumped off the bike. He had a tray built onto the back for the dog. The bloke had a rifle over his shoulder and he swung it into his hands as soon as he turned the bike off. He didn’t threaten us with the gun exactly and he kept his dog under control. But he was menacing. We all said afterwards that if one of us had been alone and seen him, he would have dispatched us without a second thought.’

  ‘You mean you felt he would have shot you?’ Tracey clarified.

  ‘Yes. He called out and asked us what we were doing. We said we were pig-hunting. He said he was pig-hunting too. I said something about scaring off any pigs with the sound of the bike. He said, “If you don’t want me scaring your pigs, you’d be wise to go that way.” Then he pointed north.

  ‘They were his exact words. They weren’t actually a threat, but we all felt threatened by it, just by his demeanour. We did head north after that. We knew he wasn’t pig-hunting, and we thought it best to stay out of his way. Now, I just saw a news break and there was a photo of the man they’re looking for in relation to Samantha Willis. It’s the same man. There’s no doubt in my mind. And god only knows what he was doing in the bush that day we saw him.’

  Tracey took further details, then rang the Op Echo room straight away. This was the sort of tip-off that may actually lead to something.

  Sunday 1:52 pm

  ‘Today is Sunday the seventeenth of October and the time is 1:52 pm. We are currently at Emerald Police Station. This is an electronic record of interview between myself and Donald Black. I’ll just get everyone in the room to introduce themselves. My name is Detective Senior Constable Janine Postlewaite, my registered number is 9926, I’m currently attached to Inala CIB.’

  ‘My name is Sergeant Sean McDonald, my registered number is 5998, I’m attached to Emerald Station.’

  ‘My name is Donald Phillip Black.’

  Although Janine was well acquainted with his features from his mugshot, Donald Black was a bit of a disappointment in real life. She knew there was no such thing as ‘looking’ like a killer, but Black seemed almost bland. He was a bit overweight, unkempt, and smelt of body odour and cigarette smoke. Someone had obviously dished out a little summary justice to him. His nose was red and swollen, and there were flecks of dried blood in his goatee.

  Only his eyes held a clue to his personality. They were dead – the black pupils a fraction too small, as if to block out the light and keep his soul in darkness. Janine knew with certainty that Sammi would not have chosen to go back to his house with him.

  ‘Can I call you Don?’ Janine asked.

  The man gave a half-shrug and Janine continued. ‘And do you agree with the time and the date as stated?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you agree there’s no one else in the room aside from the people who have just introduced themselves?

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘As I said, this is an electronic record of interview. Don, you saw me put the DVDs in the recorder, you can see yourself up on the monitor, you’re aware that this is being recorded?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Please answer any questions verbally; that is, don’t just nod or shake your head. That’s so everything can be heard on the recording. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You will be provided with a copy of this interview immediately after its conclusion. OK. I’ll just get you to state your date of birth.’

  ‘Twelfth of November 1977.’

  ‘And your place of birth?’

  ‘Geelong.’

  ‘Your home address?’

  ‘Nineteen Stanley Street, Bald Hills.’

  ‘Do you identify as Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you currently employed?’

  ‘Yes. I work as a barman at the Lion’s Head Tavern at Inala.’

  ‘What level of schooling did you receive?’

  ‘I finished Year Ten.’

  ‘Can you read and write the English language?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So if I gave you a newspaper, you would have no trouble reading it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘If I say anything during this interview that you don’t understand, please let me know and I will clarify for you.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Are you currently under the influence of liquor or drugs?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you understand you are under arrest for the disappearance of Samantha Willis?’

  ‘That’s what the officer at the side of the road said.’

  ‘Before I ask you any questions, I must tell you that you have the right to remain silent. This means you do not have to say anything or answer any questions or make any statement unless you wish to do so. However, if you do say something or make any statement it may later be used as evidence. Do you understand that warning?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You have the right to telephone or speak to a friend or relative to inform that person where you are and to ask him or her to be present during questioning. You also have the right to telephone or speak to a lawyer of your choice to inform that person where you are and to arrange or attempt to arrange for the lawyer to be present during questioning. If you want to telephone or speak to any of these people, questioning will be delayed for a reasonable time for that purpose. Is there anyone you wish to telephone or speak to?’

  ‘No. Why would I? I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  Janine eyed up Black, who stared back impassively. She and Sean had briefly discussed what they might expect from him and what approach to take in the interview. They thought he would be polite and cooperative, and deny everything. Right now they were sizing each other up. The barman was playing cool, waiting to see what she accused him of, and how much she knew.

  She had the benefit of his ignorance. His scruffy appearance suggested that he had spent the last day and night in the bush. He probably hadn’t been home yet, didn’t know they had already raided his house and triangulated his phone.

  There had been a phone call with Bill on whether they should wait for the forensic examination of his ute before questioning him. Make him sweat a little. They decided against it. If there was a chance at all that Sammi was still alive, time was of the essence.

  They could always interview him again when they had further evidence. He had already suffered the indignity of having his clothes seized for possible evidence and having scratches and marks on his body photographed. He was sitting before them in an ill-fitting tracksuit in a shade known as prison brown.

  It was also possible that he might confess and answer all of their questions. Possible but not likely, Janine thought, as she appraised Black’s poker face, but she had been surprised before.

  ‘Do you agree that you were driving north along the Dawson Highway today in a white ute, Queensland rego 542GCU, when you were intercepted by a police officer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that officer arrested you for the kidnapping of Samantha Willis and transported you here to Emerald.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you know Samantha Willis?’

  The barman shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t think so. I do meet a lot o
f women through the bar, though. I might have met her there, without knowing her name.’

  ‘When was the last time you were at work?’

  ‘Umm. Friday night. I finished about 5 am on Saturday.’

  ‘Where did you go after you finished work?’

  ‘I went home.’

  ‘Were you alone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you leave work early that morning?’

  Black paused slightly. ‘No, not that I remember.’

  ‘What time does your shift finish?’

  Black paused and Janine guessed he had twigged to where her line of questioning was headed.

  ‘I’m rostered on till 5 am but I got the shits with work and bailed early,’ Black ventured. ‘I made a fake excuse about a family crisis so I could get out.’

  ‘So what time did you actually leave?’ Janine countered.

  ‘It was about 4 am, now that I think about it,’ Black replied.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  Black shrugged and offered nothing further.

  ‘Could you please give a verbal answer for the recording.’ Janine wanted him to be clear she was in charge here.

  ‘Between four and four-thirty.’

  ‘What did you do after you walked out of the pub?’ Janine asked.

  ‘I got in my car and drove home.’

  ‘Straight home? No stops?’

  ‘I just went home.’

  ‘Where was your car parked at work?’

  ‘In the back carpark, behind the pub.’

  ‘And what car were you driving?’

  ‘My ute. The one I got pulled over in.’

  ‘What route did you take to get home?’

  ‘Um. I don’t know,’ Black answered. His eyes flicked between the two officers and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  ‘There’s not a usual route you take to get home?’ Janine asked.

  ‘Why does it matter?’ Black asked.

  ‘I’ll ask the questions thanks, Don,’ Janine said in a clipped tone.

  She had caught Black out in a couple of lies. They were only small, but Janine could see her suspect was unnerved. He was trying not to show it, but he was fidgeting now, digging his fingernails under a loose piece of plastic edging on the armrest of the seat. Janine left a long pause, making notes and shuffling between papers on the desk in front of her to prolong the other man’s discomfort. She switched tactics now.

  ‘Where had you just come from when you were arrested?’ Janine asked.

  ‘I had the weekend off. I went hunting out in the bush.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  Black shook his head slightly. ‘I forget now.’

  Janine chose to let this pass and pretend she believed him for the time being.

  ‘Who were you with?’

  ‘No one. Only my dog.’

  As she expected, Black was playing dumb.

  ‘You were headed the wrong way to get home when you were picked up.’

  ‘I was headed out to another spot.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Out west a bit.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘I forget the name, I just know how to get there.’

  ‘What about work? You said you had the weekend off. But they were expecting you at the bar last night.’

  ‘I asked for the weekend off. I thought they gave it to me. My mistake,’ Black answered with a shrug.

  Janine was getting nowhere and decided to cut to the chase, and watch Black’s reaction.

  ‘You took Samantha Willis out to the bush with you,’ Janine said it like a statement, not a question.

  ‘No, I don’t even know her. Why do you even think that I know her?’

  Janine could see Black was fishing, trying to work out how much the police had, and what lies he needed to tell.

  ‘She got into your car outside the bar.’

  A look crossed the barman’s face, and Janine watched it intently.

  ‘Someone saw her getting into my car? Are you sure it was her? You’ll have to come up with more than that,’ Black said with a self-satisfied look.

  ‘Samantha was in your car. I’m just giving you a chance to explain why.’

  Black paused, as if he was weighing up his options.

  ‘Oh, I know who you’re talking about now,’ he said, feigning surprise. ‘I helped a chick out. I’d served her in the pub and then I saw her out the front as I was leaving. She was waiting for a taxi but there’s none around that time of night so I dropped her home. Because I’m a nice guy. I didn’t even know her name. Samantha, was it? Blonde girl?’

  Janine knew this was as far as they managed to get in the last interview when police had spoken to him about the missing prostitute. It had worked for him that time; of course he was going to try it again.

  ‘You just told me you were alone when you left the pub,’ she said.

  ‘I just gave the girl a lift up the street. She didn’t come home with me. I thought nothing of it. I do it quite often. It’s not safe on the streets at that time of the morning. I dropped her at the Forest Lake shops, anything could have happened to her from there.’

  ‘We tracked her to your house by her phone.’

  ‘No, you didn’t. You’re bluffing. You can’t track phones unless the person’s making a call.’

  ‘You’re wrong. We triangulated her phone until you turned it off at your house.’

  The barman paused and stared at the floor for a moment. Janine could almost see the cogs turning as Black tried to answer.

  ‘She must have accidentally dropped it in the car when she got out,’ Black answered, now making deliberate eye contact with Janine.

  ‘Turned itself off too?’ Janine asked.

  ‘Might have had a flat battery. I can have a look for it when I get out of here,’ Black answered.

  ‘Oh, we’re having a look, don’t worry about that. What else are we going to find in the ute? The roo blood isn’t going to cover everything, is it?’

  ‘Well, you let me know if you find anything.’

  ‘Do you want to do this all over again after that?’

  ‘I’ve got nothing further to say about someone seeing a girl in my car and some dodgy phone signal.’

  Smug prick, Janine thought as she stared at him. She had shown her hand and it hadn’t been enough. Black had given her answers that didn’t get her any further. They would have to wait and hope forensics turned up something.

  Janine took another punt and changed tack.

  ‘OK, I won’t ask you any more questions about Samantha. But we found some things at your house I want to talk to you about.’

  ‘What?’ Panic flashed across Black’s face.

  ‘Yes, I executed a search warrant at your house yesterday,’ Janine said, watching as a red flush crept up the man’s neck. She could almost see him taking a mental inventory of what police might find.

  ‘You can’t go through my house without me there,’ he said, anger rising with the redness.

  ‘Of course we can,’ Janine said, permitting herself a small smile, to see if that would further unnerve Black. ‘It was completely legit. Everything that was found is admissible in court.’

  Black put a hand up to his face and rubbed his forehead. A prickle of sweat was now visible, just at his hairline.

  ‘So, what did you find?’ Black asked. He tried to sound cool again, and still wasn’t giving anything away.

  ‘I found some very interesting items,’ Janine said softly, staring unflinchingly at Black.

  ‘No, you didn’t,’ Black said, sneering at her. ‘There’s nothing to find.’

  ‘Well, let’s start with the ladies’ underwear jammed in the bottom drawer of your dresser,’ Janine said.

 
Black stared back. A moment’s pause while he collected his thoughts.

  ‘They belong to old girlfriends. Reminders of good fucks. Cunt souvenirs. Nothing illegal about that.’ He said it like he thought he could shock Janine with bad language.

  ‘Who do they belong to?’ Janine asked. At least she had him talking again.

  ‘Old girlfriends, I said,’ Black replied.

  ‘What were their names?’ Janine pressed.

  Black shrugged. ‘Can’t remember. Who cares? Just bitches.’

  ‘We care. And we’ll be able to match them all up with the DNA profiles,’ Janine said.

  She was in control again. She watched the path of Black’s Adam’s apple, up and down, as he swallowed hard.

  ‘You wouldn’t have washed them if they were souvenirs, as you say,’ she added.

  No answer. The hand back up to the forehead, covering his eyes. It couldn’t hide his burning cheeks.

  ‘Do you sniff them? Is that what you like to do?’ Janine asked.

  She was acutely aware that everything she said and did was being recorded and would likely be played in a courtroom at some later date. She had to walk the fine line between provoking him and getting the information she so desperately needed.

  ‘Get fucked!’ This time there was no mistaking the hint of aggression behind the flat stare. She was getting to him.

  ‘Who does the underwear belong to?’ Janine asked again.

  ‘You think you’re so fucking smart, then you work it out,’ Black said.

  ‘We will. We’ve got forensics going over your car with a fine tooth comb, we’ve got CCTV, we’ve got your maps, we’ve got people ringing in with all sorts of information about you. It’s just a matter of time. Don’t be stubborn just for the sake of it,’ Janine said.

  ‘I’ve had enough of this. Just put me back in the fucken cell then,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest.

  They stared at each other for a moment.

  Time to switch topics again, Janine thought.