Sinister Intent

by Karen M. Davis

  For the first time, she thought of Dani. ‘Is Dani okay? Did her mother . . .?’

  Josh shook his head vehemently. ‘No, her mother is still alive and Dani is fine, although she is staying with some doctor friend. Doesn’t want to stay in her apartment; can’t blame her for that. She’s been in to see you a couple of times.’

  Thank God she was okay. Lexie let out a deep breath.

  ‘The phone that sent you the text messages was found with Sue’s belongings. It was a throwaway phone used to make the tip-off the night of the shooting and to call Maggot and tell him the Devil’s Guardians were behind the death of his girlfriend. It was also used to send you the text messages.’

  ‘How did you know about the text messages?’ Lexie asked, surprised.

  ‘I saw them on your phone pretty much at the same time I started putting it all together. Two other police-issued Glocks were found at Burgh’s house. They were all firearms stolen from officers attached to Balmain police station two and a half years ago.’

  ‘You were right about that,’ Lexie said, thinking back to Josh’s theory.

  She didn’t want to think about the rest of his theory; she couldn’t think about what Burgh had done to Lincoln right now.

  Josh went on to explain that a full internal affairs investigation was in progress into the corrupt activities of Harry Burgh.

  ‘So far, they haven’t even scraped the surface, but after examining his bank accounts and interviewing some “associates”, it’s obvious the man’s been involved in organised crime up to his eyeballs. We know he was involved in extortion and tow-truck rackets, promoting business for certain funeral parlours for a cut, receiving and supplying stolen property on the firearms black market, amongst other things.’

  Lexie shook her head trying to take it all in. Her eyes were getting heavy again. She felt too tired to speak. Was it information overload? Or was it the drugs pumping through her body, pulling her under? She let her eyelids fall, wanting to surrender. Yet she was torn, wanting to stay with Josh.

  Josh must have noticed her struggle. From a distance she heard him say, ‘Lexie, I think you need to rest . . .’

  —

  Lexie was drifting in and out of consciousness when she sensed someone standing at the end of her bed. Opening her eyes, she saw the blurry outline of a very large man. Slowly, as her vision focused, she saw he was wearing an AC/DC T-shirt, denim jeans and sneakers. One of his tattooed arms was in a cast secured in a sling. It was then Lexie remembered his accident. She also realised that, for the first time, she felt no fear in the presence of Rex Donaldson.

  Glancing around the room, she saw they were alone. Before Rex could speak, Lexie asked, ‘How’s Sandy?’

  His hard face lit up. ‘She’s got a long way to go but she’s doing better. The test came back positive. I’m a suitable donor. I’ll be able to give her one of my kidneys; even though they’ve copped a bit of abuse over the years, it’s better than not having one at all.’

  Lexie felt genuinely pleased for him, and Sandy, even Rowdy. ‘That’s great.’

  ‘I was just visiting her, actually. I discharged myself from hospital a bit early and didn’t realise you guys were looking for me, so I handed myself in at the station. That’s how I heard about what happened. Anyway, I thought since I was here I’d see how you were doing.’

  Who was he kidding? Lexie knew exactly why he was here. He wanted to know how much she remembered.

  ‘You knew you were under police guard,’ Lexie stated with a sly smile.

  Rex shrugged his huge shoulders. ‘What can I say? I wasn’t in custody and I hate hospitals.’

  His face was serious, unsure. He stared directly into her eyes and asked, ‘Do you remember what happened to you?’

  Lexie held his gaze. ‘Not all of it.’

  She sensed he got her silent message. Their secret would remain just that.

  There was a terrific irony at play here, she thought. Only months ago, Lexie had escaped the clutches of a violent bikie who had tried to kill her, only to be almost murdered by one of her own, and then to be saved by yet another bikie. If that’s what he was? Who are you, Rex Donaldson?

  Rex nodded and for a moment there was an awkward silence where no one spoke. Lexie broke the silence.

  ‘Just between you and me, how did you know where I was?’

  ‘I’m psychic,’ he joked, seemingly unsurprised by the question. ‘How do you think I’ve avoided getting knocked off so many times?’

  She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘I’m serious. How did you know where I was? Were you following me?’

  Sighing loudly, Rex dropped the façade. ‘I was following Burgh.’

  Lexie had no doubt Rex had intended to kill Burgh before Burgh could kill him. Or someone else he loved. However, Sue Field had beaten him to it.

  ‘The doctor told me the bullet only missed my spleen by centimetres. If you hadn’t been there she would have finished me off. You saved my life, Rex.’

  He said nothing in response; merely grunted.

  Lexie hesitated, then, watching him intently she asked the question that had been haunting her.

  ‘What did you mean by your cover being blown?’

  Rex pulled a baffled face. ‘I think the nurses have given you too many drugs. You’re completely out of it.’

  Lexie smiled, feeling unexpectedly emotional. ‘I’m glad you were on my side this time, Rex.’

  Rex’s weathered face looked for a split second as though he was about to say something nice, then his jaw hardened and the tough guy was back.

  ‘I’d better get going.’ He turned to leave and then doubled back. ‘It’s pretty bad when you can’t even trust your own, isn’t it?’

  Lexie agreed. ‘Lucky I had you to protect me.’ Unable to help herself, she teased, ‘If you ever get sick of being a bikie, maybe you could come and work with us. You’d make a great undercover cop, Rex. No one would ever pick you.’

  Even with the multitude of drugs flowing through her system Lexie didn’t miss the ripple of uncertainty that washed across his uneven features, as for a split second his cool veneer slipped. He recovered swiftly, professionally even; his expression was back firmly under control and giving nothing away. Though, when he saw the spark of mischief twinkling in her eyes, his face visibly relaxed.

  Rex laughed a little too loudly. ‘Well, you never know what might happen down the track.’ He gave her a wicked smile. ‘I have been told I’m a very good actor. But I think the job description sounds a little too dangerous. I like to lead a quiet life . . . you know?’

  They were both laughing when Josh walked in carrying a bag of food. Spotting Rex, he was immediately on guard and came to stand protectively beside the bed next to her.

  Lexie suppressed a giggle.

  ‘Well, that’s my cue to hit the frog and toad,’ Donaldson said, tipping his head at Josh. Then, looking Lexie in the eyes, added, ‘Take care, Detective. I’m glad you’re on the mend.’ He winked. ‘I’ll be seeing you around.’ And with that he was gone.

  As Lexie’s eyes grew heavy, her gaze drifted to the window. She stared out through the translucent glass at a bright blue sky, at what promised to be yet another perfect summer’s day, and marvelled at the unpredictability of life. She wondered, were things ever really as they seemed?

  Would this journey ever cease to surprise her? She hoped not. The process of living could be so turbulent: like the ocean, treacherous and unsafe, unpredictable, ever-changing. It was sometimes exhilarating, at times devastating; a roller coaster full of highs and lows, peaks and troughs. Though wasn’t that what made the ride so interesting, so exciting, and totally worth relishing?

  Seeing the confusion and concern reflected in Josh’s eyes, Lexie reached up and touched his cheek. He brought his head down and brushed his lips against hers.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, giving her such a tender look it was almost a caress. Her heart melted.

  She nodded and smil
ed, bringing his lips back down to meet hers. And as they kissed, Lexie felt the last layers of fear peel away, float off and dissipate into the air. For too long, panic and anxiety had been her constant companions. Now she must learn to live without them.

  And she would do so, gladly.

  THE STORY BEHIND SINISTER INTENT

  Ten years ago, if I’d been asked whether I’d ever write a book, I would have laughed and said I didn’t have the patience or the know-how. But real life is unpredictable and can be a whole lot stranger than fiction. Circumstances change, and the path we have mapped out for ourselves can sometimes hit an unexpected hurdle. I’ve learned that this doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

  Joining the New South Wales Police Force at the age of nineteen, I thought I’d be a cop for the rest of my life, or at least until retirement age. It was the only thing I’d ever wanted to do and I loved my job for many reasons. But in 2007, after a twenty-year career working as a uniformed officer, a detective and an undercover operative, like so many others I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Unfortunately the years of witnessing distressing events and dealing with the seedier side of life caught up with me and I had no other option but to reluctantly leave my beloved job.

  For a time I was devastated and lost. Not knowing how to help me through this dark period, my mother (the late Lynne Wilding, a successful novelist) encouraged me to write my real-life police experiences down as a form of therapy. It was hard at first. I had to force myself to re-live some of the more harrowing memories I’d worked hard to forget – like witnessing a woman on fire, attending a suspicious cot death, and a triple fatal accident involving three teenage boys, delivering death messages to grieving families, being locked in the morgue as a practical joke, seeing too many suicides and drug overdoses to remember, and being unable to erase from my mind the face of the fifteen-year-old girl who’d killed herself by injecting bourbon into her bloodstream, all to get back at her abusive father.

  Not to mention the time I’d been bitten by an AIDs patient, been hit in the forehead by a set of false teeth thrown by an eighty-year-old psychotic woman (that was the joke of the station for a while) and had my life threatened by an intoxicated drug addict who’d held a broken bottle to my throat while I was trying to help his injured father, who had a knife sticking out of his stomach.

  Yes, I had some baggage. But to my surprise I found that writing about it helped release emotions I’d kept suppressed for too long. It took some time, but my ‘war stories’ eventually turned into a memoir that I entitled Cop This. My mother showed it to her literary agent, Selwa Anthony, and Selwa encouraged me to draw on my real-life experiences to write a novel.

  Of course, this was no easy task. I had no idea how to put a book together. My mother had sadly passed away by this stage so I couldn’t go to her for advice. I had to figure it out on my own. My first attempt at writing a manuscript took nearly two years. It was one of my mother’s stories, which she’d started before she died. I tried to finish it . . . Bad idea. It was all over the place. And of course I was devastated when Selwa told me to start again. She said, ‘Write what you know and love.’ That was when it dawned on me to write crime.

  So I started reading and analysing all kinds of books, especially crime novels. I wrote, edited and re-wrote every day. I reasoned with myself that, with my experience and knowledge, I should be able to do this.

  After all, I’d been a uniform officer on the streets of Newtown in Sydney’s inner west and Bondi in the east. I know what it’s like to work on the front line, to never know what you’re walking into or going to encounter from one minute to the next. Working undercover had given me an insight into the life of characters in the drug world. During controlled operations I’d bought drugs off petty offenders as well as dangerous criminal identities, so I know how it’s done.

  Having been a detective, I know what a typical day in the life of an investigator entails. I know how an investigation is run. I know what really goes on in a police station; in a detective’s office. I know about the politics, and the camaraderie that exists between workmates, along with the personality clashes and power struggles between others. Not to mention the occasional domestic dispute or budding romance between colleagues.

  I realised that if I could turn my experiences into fiction I had a ready-made world that was full of drama, conflict and intrigue – all the elements required for a good story. Add into the mix a decent crime and a bit of suspense and there you have it: the perfect crime novel.

  If only it was that easy.

  But what I lacked in writing experience I made up for in knowledge of my subject matter. I was lucky that I didn’t have to do much research because my ideas came from my experience, which helped shape the story and allowed me to weave real-life events through the sub-plots. The characters in Sinister Intent are a combination of people I’ve encountered throughout my life – and pure fiction. The setting is the eastern suburbs of Sydney because I’ve lived and worked there. It’s also a popular and picturesque part of Sydney.

  Sinister Intent was four years in the making and was almost completely re-written after the first draft was thought to ‘have potential’. It’s been one of the hardest, as well as most rewarding, things I’ve ever done. Throughout the writing process I had to keep reminding myself that I was writing fiction, not putting a brief of evidence together that had to be accurate and factual. Getting my head around the fact I was allowed to stretch the truth took some time.

  Yet saying this, I still wanted to keep it real; create a sense of authenticity regarding the characters and their environment that the reader could identify with. So they could come along for the ride with Lexie; to experience the things she had to deal with. Witness her frailties, her emotions and her determination to get around any obstacle life threw at her. I hoped to demonstrate that all police officers are human, just like everyone else. The characters in my book are simply normal people who are sometimes capable of extraordinary things.

  My second book in the Lexie Rogers series, Deadly Obsession, will be published in August 2014 and I’m currently writing the third story. I’ve been asked how many books will be in the series and I can honestly say I don’t know. I have a multitude of situations and events to throw at Lexie and her colleagues yet, but I suppose I’ll just have to see what happens.

  I consider myself very lucky to have found another passion in life; that of writing. Some say that out of every negative you can find a positive, but when you’re consumed with anxiety and pain it’s hard to see how anything good can come from it. The great thing is that it has. I think suffering from PTSD made me more compassionate and – I hope – a better person. There’s one thing I know for sure, though – if I hadn’t left the police force, I may never have written this book.

  Karen M. Davis

  2014

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Karen M. Davis is a former New South Wales police officer. During her twenty-year career, she worked as a uniform officer, a detective and an undercover operative. Leaving the police force six years ago, Karen was encouraged by her mother – author of twelve novels, the late Lynne Wilding – to draw on her experiences and put pen to paper.

  Karen lives in southern Sydney with her husband, Stuart, a serving member of the police force, and her two teenage daughters, Liah and Tara. She also has two step-daughters, Abbey and Hannah. Sinister Intent, featuring Detective Lexie Rogers, is her debut novel. She is currently working on her second novel.

  www.karenmdavis.com

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Where to start?

  I would sincerely like to thank my literary agent, Selwa Anthony, for her unwavering support and guidance, much-needed advice and ongoing encouragement throughout the whole publishing process. You have welcomed me into your ‘family’ with open arms and made my dream come true. You are so much more than an agent. We share a special connection thanks to a wonderful lady we both loved.

  Not forgetting
Linda Anthony – Selwa’s right-hand woman – for all her work behind the scenes.

  To my publishers, Simon and Schuster, for being incredibly welcoming, taking a chance and believing in me. Special thanks to Lou Johnson, Larissa Edwards, Anabel Pandiella, Carol Warwick and Roberta Ivers.

  Thanks also to Nicola O’Shea, Drew Keys, Selena Hanet-Hutchins and Sandra Rigby for their indispensable editing and structural advice.

  To The Writers’ Studio, Kathleen and Roland, for helping to get me started on the right track.

  To the entire Sassy family, but especially Katherine Howell, Belinda Alexandra, Lyn McPherson, Lisa Blundell, Sharon King, Rocky, Grant and Missy Rogers, Colleen Keys, Anne Rennie and Sue Williams: your words of support, encouragement and advice over the years have meant so much. And for lovely sentiments conveyed to me by those who knew my mother (you know who you are) . . . Well, what can I say but thank you, it meant a lot.

  There are too many old work buddies and colleagues to thank individually, so I’ll just thank you all for giving me inspiration, nicknames, a lot of laughs and so many stories to tell.

  To Doctor Greg Wilkins, thanks for your help with medical information, but mostly for doing what you do best, which is healing what has been broken. So many of us owe you a debt of gratitude.

  To Chris Lloyd – when I couldn’t see it, you guided me towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

  To my neighbours, thanks for taking the time to ask me how the manuscript was coming along and showing an interest in what I love to do. I’m lucky. I live in a great street.

  I am blessed with so many great people in my life (again, you know who you are), but I want to say a special thank-you to a handful of life-long friends. This is not a competition by the way . . . and you’re not listed in order of preference, okay?

  Belinda Neil, my academy buddy and dear friend for over twenty-six years – I so appreciate you taking the time to edit my first drafts, for providing homicide and general policing advice, and for sharing your Facebook and computer expertise.