by Jennie Jones
As there had only been a few text messages when the girl’s parents discovered what was going on, and no contact outside of the workplace, there was confusion around the whole issue. The police couldn’t press charges for a few innocuous text messages. Michael had spoken to the police, and had been cooperative and astounded that his care of a young employee had been taken this way. The police couldn’t do anything more, but Jax hoped Michael was on their radar.
‘How do you know so much, anyway?’ Frances said, raising her face to glare at Jax.
‘I had to know. I wanted you here, with me. I would never have taken you away from Linda if she hadn’t done what she’d done.’
‘She doesn’t want the reminder,’ a counsellor had told Jax, attempting to explain the reasons for Linda’s sudden abandonment of Frances, which followed so quickly on the heels of Michael leaving them both.
Jax hadn’t been able to comprehend it. ‘But it’s her child!’
‘Not biologically.’
‘She took her. Frances has Michael’s name; she’s legally his child.’
The counsellor had shaken her head sadly. ‘People do the most extraordinary things when they’re under pressure.’
Under pressure? What about Frances?
Linda was a monster. No matter how hurt or demoralised she’d been due to her husband’s behaviour, why take it out on a child? Why do that? Only monsters did that.
She’d taken out her woes about life and how badly she’d been treated on Frances and had literally told the authorities to take the child away. Given Linda’s unstable emotional temperament about the whole issue, Jax could only imagine what might have happened to Frances after Michael left them, and she was left alone in the house with Linda.
After Jax told Michael she was pregnant, he’d admitted he was married and that this was a tricky situation for him because Linda couldn’t have children. Linda had longed for a baby, he’d said, and had been trying to coax him into adopting. He’d refused, and they were almost at the point of splitting up. Because Jax’s mother also stepped in and spoke to Michael, he’d had little choice but to tell his wife that a young woman had forced her attentions on him, and in a moment of lack of control, he’d accepted her advances. Accepted her advances. At that point, even Jax’s mother had known that wasn’t true. But Michael used his secret weapon: his charm. He knew what type of woman Jax’s mother was—self-absorbed and morally uptight—and he put his case forward. He shared his thoughts with her about his sadness over his almost broken marriage, his wish to make his wife feel loved again, his endeavours at the accounting firm where he was overworked, and, most of all, his wish to make it right for the baby. What he really meant was that he didn’t want to be found out and face public humiliation.
But he convinced Jax’s mother, quietly and confidently.
He must have used similar tactics on Linda, persuading his wife that he’d done the wrong thing, and that it meant nothing, it was a mistake, but that it was now their chance to have a baby. Just what she’d wanted.
Jax could practically hear him speak the words.
He’d assured Jax, during one of only three or four excruciatingly awkward visits to her home, that Linda desperately wanted this baby, and that it was best for Jax if he, Michael, took control of the situation, as she had her whole life ahead of her.
It had been best for Michael, and for Jax’s mother. Not for Jax. And maybe not for Linda either. But Jax had given up her baby.
‘I didn’t want to be given to you,’ Franca said as she furiously blinked away the tears that were gathering in her blue eyes. ‘I didn’t want to come here.’
‘I know, and I understand. But I’m your next of kin now.’ And there’d been nowhere else for Frances to go. ‘If it makes you feel better, I had to undergo rigorous counselling before they agreed you could live with me.’ Frances knew Linda wasn’t her real mother. According to the counsellors, Linda had told her when she was seven or eight. ‘They needed to make sure I wasn’t going to hurt you in any way.’
‘Like beat me up, or something?’
‘Not that; they weren’t concerned I’d do anything like that. They were worried about whether I’d be able to handle it all—because I need to be the one who handles it for you, Frances.’
‘I wish they’d never got in touch with you,’ she mumbled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.
‘They didn’t,’ Jax said, remembering the moment she’d heard about what Michael Fellows had done and how her first and instinctive gut reaction and worry had been for Frances. ‘I got in touch with them.’
The woman who’d been her mother’s cleaner, whom Jax kept in touch with once or twice a year, had called her. She still lived in the area, and although she’d said it was just gossip she’d overheard, Jax’s instincts had taken a kicking. The woman had known about Jax’s pregnancy, and Jax had always suspected her mother had confided in the woman about the father. Her supposition had been correct. By a strange twist of fate, the woman cleaned for one of Linda’s friends.
The next day, Jax got in touch with the Department of Child Protection. She’d tossed and turned all night, trying to figure out what was the best thing to do. The best thing for Frances, because Linda had taken Jax’s baby, apparently wanting the child, and at the first sign of humiliation to herself, she’d given her away. Like a puppy who’d grown too big and was no longer wanted.
Frances rubbed her knuckles over her eyes, then pushed her hair back and held it away from her face.
Jax saw the tiny scar, a thin pink line a centimetre long on her hairline.
When all this first came out, before Michael left, Frances had witnessed a fight between her father and some man who’d been shouting abuse at him, telling him to pack up his family and get lost. Frances had tried to stop it and she’d been hurt, but Jax had no idea how to lead into that conversation. The one she was having was hard enough.
After that, Michael moved to Queensland, leaving his daughter with Linda. And now the child was abandoned, and hurting. There was no easy fix; Jax had to take it minute by minute, and somehow make her child’s world a better place, without humiliation, without shame. Frances needed stability and love.
If the investigation against Michael went further, Jax had to make up her mind about what she’d do if she was contacted by the police. Step up, come forward and advise the police that she’d had the same treatment thirteen years ago? Or stay quiet, for Frances’s sake.
Instinctively, she wanted to speak up. Intuitively, she knew she wouldn’t. For Frances. For the baby she’d held for an hour. For the three-year-old who’d had a birthday party at a park. For the child who’d happily skipped into Kindergarten on her first day of school.
She’d seen Frances four times before she turned five and nobody knew this. One day, she’d like to tell her, but that day was not today. Possibly even not this year or the next.
She never got in touch with Michael after he took the baby, and after her mother had persuaded her that it wasn’t wise to attempt to get visitation rights. She hadn’t wanted to disturb her little girl’s life. But she’d stalked the Fellows family in the first years, and that was wrong. She hadn’t told the counsellors this part of her story; she was too scared to, in case they suddenly decided it wasn’t a good thing for Jax to have care of Frances. It was her dark secret, and one she treasured. As though she’d stolen a pretty trinket and had to keep it hidden and only took it out into the sunlight so she could polish the mental images of her little girl and keep them close.
The Fellows hadn’t moved from the house they’d always lived in. They hadn’t thought for a second that the mother of the baby might drive past sometimes. Or sit in her car, a good distance away, watching them unload their shopping or mow the front lawn. Or follow them as they put the baby into the car seat and took her for a drive.
The last time she’d seen Frances was when she’d driven to their suburb and parked opposite the local school. Frances’s first day at s
chool. Jax had worked it out. It was easy. School term times and dates were available for everyone and she’d guessed that Michael and Linda would place Frances in the local Kindergarten.
Linda hadn’t picked Frances up, or even given her a hug, that first day of school.
How Jax had longed to be the one holding the little girl’s hand. She’d squeeze it and then she’d scoop the child up and hug her hard, planting big soft kisses on her cheeks.
She’d stayed parked for almost forty minutes after Linda had driven off, her thoughts a maze she couldn’t find her way out of. Regret that she’d given up her child—even though the pressure to do so had been enormous—had swamped her. That day in the hospital, after handing over her baby because she’d been told by her mother and by Michael that’s what she was going to do, she became mentally tougher. But strangely, the day she grew up was that day she watched Franca go to school for the first time. Sitting in that car outside the school, she’d wrangled with all her hopes and wishes and had ultimately decided that this was her goodbye.
But she shouldn’t have pushed the memories of her baby away so messily. She should have kept them neatly tied up in her head. Unexamined but there if the situation required her to untie them and make another review of what she’d done and why.
Now, she’d have to bring up all those questions again, and this time she’d need to find the perfect, best answers, while also staying well away from the truth.
She wasn’t going to let Frances get hurt anymore. From this moment on, everything she did would be for the benefit and wellbeing of Frances.
Nobody needed to know what had really happened.
Six
‘Jack.’
Jack looked up from his desk.
Donna walked into the office, thumbs hooked in her equipment belt. ‘There’s an issue you need to know about.’
He closed a tab on his computer monitor and swivelled his chair to one side.
Donna closed the office door then perched on the edge of Will’s desk. ‘I’ve been asked not to tell you, but I can’t do that, and I told the person so. Jax,’ she said, then closed her mouth and waited.
Jack didn’t move.
‘I got a call from her last night, while I was off duty. She wanted me to drive out to her place. The fence in the paddock where they’re going to keep the bull has been mowed down. I reckon by a large four-wheel drive.’
‘Purposefully?’
Donna nodded. ‘There’s an old mine track at the far end of the paddock. One of many. Jax says it was likely joyriders, out for a spin and deciding to do some damage while they were having fun.’
‘But?’
‘Going by the tyre marks, they knocked it down, reversed, and hit it again. Four times. It’s a big, strong fence.’
Jack inhaled, and pushed to stand. ‘Why didn’t she report it?’
‘Because it’s you.’
He didn’t wince, but Donna might have noticed a muscle spasm around his mouth.
‘Okay.’ He grabbed his cap and keys. ‘I’ll take a drive out there.’
‘She’ll be pissed.’
‘I’m not worried about that.’
He logged off his computer and moved to the door. ‘Davidson!’ he called. ‘Buckle up. You’re coming out with me.’ He turned to Donna. ‘This isn’t personal. I’m going out there because I’d do the same for anyone in this situation. Best I get out and be seen as often as I can anyway.’ He indicated his desk and the folders and paperwork piled high. ‘While I can.’
‘I wouldn’t question you,’ Donna said. ‘Just doing my job.’
‘Thanks. Me too.’ He wondered what form his name had taken in their conversation last night when Donna advised she was going to tell Jack, but he didn’t ask.
He left the office and headed for Jimmy to tell him where he was going.
Jax lived ten minutes out of town and as Jack sat in the passenger seat while Davidson drove, his thoughts were on any number of scenarios but mostly, the artwork on the bull, on the enamel water trough where Roper’s goats had been stolen, and how it might all fit in. Plus, there was that kick-in-the-gut instinct that told him to be careful, to think through the facts.
‘Get much trouble from Lizard Claws?’ he asked Davidson, drumming his fingers on his thigh. He was used to driving himself, unless he was in the back of an op van. Having Davidson in charge of the troop wagon was slightly discomforting. But the rookie needed to learn as he did his job and Jack was in charge of ensuring that happened.
‘Not much trouble from them, Sarge. It was a small mine anyway, even before it closed. They’ve got about thirty, maybe thirty-five people out there now.’
Lizard Claws mine had underperformed continually in its first three years of operation and had been forced to come to a trading halt a few months ago. Over 200 workers had been made redundant, which had made Mt Maria a lively place for a while.
‘And their security?’ Jack would be in contact with the mine manager soon and he’d prefer it to look like official business, keeping interest well away from the op.
‘Zenith Security Management do it,’ Davidson said. ‘They do most of the security out here. But they won’t be needed much now, I suppose, with it more or less closed down.’
Each of the eleven mines in the district had their own risk factors dependent on operation, but common security issues challenged the entire mining and resource sector. Lizard Claws had its own airport. It serviced two mines and was thirty kilometres east of the mine. Workers for Lizard and for Bob Tail, its sister mine which was still working, were flown in from Perth or Kalgirri, and buses serviced each mine. It was the airport activity the op was most interested in. The op knew that drugs weren’t being transported from the site via the aircrafts, but cash obviously was. Large amounts. So where did it come from?
The options for getting drugs from the WA coast to the other states were a maze of easy pathways. Tourists, road train drivers, mine-site workers, incoming and outgoing shearers, backpackers working on the various stations. The paths were endless.
The routes Jack’s op was working on were around the tri-border area. The op felt the influx of drugs in Kalgirri was mainly from this spot. The tri-border was over a thousand kilometres away, but close enough in this vast district to have them put a detective undercover in Mt Maria, the largest town in the vicinity.
So far there weren’t any victims. No murders, no beatings, no gunshot wounds. Then the op, named Operation Blue Tongue by some bright spark, had shifted focus from South Australia to Kalgirri, then to Lizard Claws mine forty-seven kilometres north-east of Mt Maria.
They had their eye on one guy in particular, Joseph Bivic—Biv, as he was known. Jack knew of him and probably knew more about him than the guy himself. Six foot tall. Two hundred and five pounds. Tough—muscle and attitude. Age thirty-four. Didn’t smile. From his various ID photos it looked like his face had been set to a hard grimace a decade ago or more. He had no compunction to appear decent or friendly. He was hard and he was fine with the world knowing it. He was also now working at Lizard Claws on the decommissioning crew.
Bivic had been inside a number of times, mostly in his younger days, but hadn’t been emotionally hurt by his stints in jail. Rather, he’d grown from them, hardening, as though he’d been given an opportunity to engage with even more criminally minded citizens.
‘Do we have a problem out at Lizard Claws?’ Davidson asked.
‘I’ve just been looking at the latest security checks we’ve had out there.’
Bivic was working as part of the crew taking apart the mining processing facilities and equipment. He’d been working for some years as an overseer, taking care of idle plant and machinery on such sites. But it was a ruse. He didn’t take many jobs, just enough to ensure the police saw him working and earning a living. He no doubt had a stash of illegally gained cash hidden somewhere in WA—or elsewhere.
‘Sergeant Luke was invited to the last emergency response exercise out at the
airport,’ Davidson said. ‘No drama as far as I know.’
‘No problem then.’ He wasn’t going to rush into things. He wanted to take it steady, appear genuine. Luke was going away for six weeks. Jack reckoned he could have this wrapped up in five. Possibly four, depending on what he found out and how soon he discovered it. He was on his own out here; no need to run. He could walk. He’d crawl if he had to.
‘I guess you’re taking a bit of personal time here, Sarge, going out to Jax’s place. Word on the street is you’re after her.’
Something about the smile in Davidson’s tone had Jack turn his head to peer at him, OIC style.
‘How dumb are you, Davidson?’
‘Huh?’ the youngster said, paling.
‘I’m just getting it right so I know the best way to handle you. On a scale of one to ten—how dumb are you?’
Davidson squirmed on his seat and gripped the steering wheel more firmly, but Jack was happy to see repentance in his expression. ‘Sorry, Sarge. Didn’t mean to get personal.’
‘So it’s currently around five on the chart?’
Davidson pulled his mouth into a chagrined grimace. ‘Maybe four.’
Jack smiled. ‘Let’s try to make it an even eight by the time we get to Miss Brown’s place, shall we?’
‘Got it. Sorry, Sarge.’
Jack settled back in his seat with a sigh, then noted a turn-off ahead. ‘Where does that go?’