I moved the next sheet closer. Several similar pharmacy robberies, one where the elderly owner had been subjected to hours of torment late at night, locked in a storeroom out the back while the "robbers" destroyed the chemist's shop and cleaned out his safe of Pseudoephedrine based drugs and cash. I swallowed thickly, reading the line that said, A woman matching the description of Sarah Monaghan and answering to the name "Sarah", was the one to physically manhandle the victim. When shown a picture of the suspect he confirmed her identity.
She'd been described as pale, wearing black leather clothing, had short black hair and obvious tattoos. When I'd been in Kaikoura I'd worn cute white shorts and tight fitting T-shirts, had long dusky blonde hair and had actually managed to get a tan. I pulled the next sheet closer.
Again and again, aggravated assaults, armed robberies, disorderly and dangerous behaviour was attributed to me - all crimes that Roan's men frequently performed. If they didn't have security camera footage with grainy images of a woman who vaguely looked like me, when I was in Christchurch at the mechanic's shop, then they had a witness who confirmed my identity when shown a picture.
It was surreal.
It was wrong.
"None of these are me," I said, pushing the pile back towards Pierce with a determined shove of my hand.
Pierce made an incredulous grunting sound on an expelled breath of air.
"You were identified at each scene."
"It wasn't me," I repeated, arms crossed over chest. Pierce's eyes tracked the movement.
"I hardly think now is the time to deny it," Pierce said evenly. "You've admitted being in these locations, we know it's you."
I pulled the first sheet back towards me and pointed at the date of the crime. "One week after I left Dunedin." The next sheet, finger stab at the date. "Three days after I left Kaikoura." The next sheet. "One day after I left Cardrona." And then the remaining sheets of paper, individually slammed back down on the surface of the table. "Two weeks after I left Geraldine. Four days after I left Hastings. Not...me!"
Pierce held my defiant gaze for several long seconds. Then stiffly leaned forward and flicked through another stapled document, which was three or four pages long. He moved the reports closer to compare and finally, after a minute of assessment, looked back up at me.
"None of your jobs, in your next chosen location, started before these dates. There is no way of knowing whether you had left those locations and begun a cover elsewhere when these crimes were performed."
"I was no longer working at my previous employment when these were done. I'd already moved on," I pointed out.
"Granted your employers hadn't seen you when these happened, but you could easily have stayed around to commit the crimes and then moved to your next location," Pierce shot back.
I shook my head at him in bewilderment. This guy had me pegged for nasty things I hadn't even done. Things that made it look like I was still trapped in McLaren's world. My eyes flicked back down to the grainy image on the first report. The girl in the photo could have been identified as me, she looked close enough to my Christchurch disguise and appearance to warrant it, but I knew it wasn't me. I had never been to any of those premises, at those times, and had never worn the Christchurch outfit at those locations.
I sighed, trying to get my anger and increasing unease under control. I pulled the first report over, leaned across the table and pointed to the description of the clothing the suspect had worn.
"I wore leathers in Christchurch. I worked for one of the Devil's Henchmen in his mechanic shop. I put on temporary tattoos, dyed my hair black and blended in. It's what I do. As soon as I knew my cover was blown, I dyed my hair brown, slipped on some grunge appropriate clothing and placed a stud in my nose. So I would fit in at Otago University."
I slid the report over for Kaikoura, pointing to the clothing description on that one.
"When I left Dunedin, before I stepped on the bus taking me North to Kaikoura, I changed my appearance again. This time I wore cute white shorts and tight fitting T-shirts, I had long dusky blonde hair and by the time I left there, a tan."
My hand moved to the next report for Cardrona.
"When I left Kaikoura, I had honey blonde curly hair in a ponytail, wore hipster jeans and brand-name tops, to blend in with the ski-bunnies on the slopes of Cardrona. For Geraldine..."
"OK, enough!" Pierce interrupted me, and for the first time since this all began, a puzzled frown marred his fierce façade.
Nobody spoke for several long moments. The detective leaned back in his chair and rubbed his goatee beard in contemplation.
"Roan McLaren's been spreading the word you're his secret weapon," he admitted, eyes back on me.
"Oh, so you believe a criminal drug lord over a frightened woman?" I huffed a breath out in disgust. "That man could sell ice-creams to Polar Bears. But he'd lace them with razor blades and then laugh when they took a bite."
Pierce blinked once.
"The crimes committed matched his modus operandi. He's also been trying to get into Declan King's territory for some time. Using you, someone who appears to have continued with pursuits that coincide with McLaren's, to do reconnaissance here is not a stretch of the imagination."
I shook my head at him. "That still doesn't make sense. Not enough for you to attribute these crimes to me."
Pierce was so still I had to double check to make sure he was breathing. He was clearly mulling over this new turn of events. Ben continued to gently rub my shoulders, an absent movement I was unsure if he knew he was even making, but I was inordinately grateful for it. It soothed me, calmed me, made it possible to wait the detective out and not start demanding answers in a way that would raise the cop's hackles.
"We received an anonymous tip-off," he finally admitted. Before I could comment, he continued. "Even though it was anonymous and entirely too convenient, the images that the informant provided matched your description when you were at the Devil's Henchman's mechanic shop. And you have been in those locations."
"She was set up," Ben offered. "And victims are keen to place a name and face to their attacker, and often pick the best choice of those available."
Pierce let a slow long breath out.
"You know I'm right, don't you?" Ben said slowly.
Pierce took in Ben's current position; at my back, hands on my shoulders, fingers kneading in support. "Can you even be trusted to be neutral about this?" he asked.
"When have I ever put you wrong, Pierce?"
The detective reluctantly shook his head. "Never."
"And how many times have you used my services in the past to get what you needed in order to do your job?" Ben pushed.
It was Pierce's turn to clench his fists.
"Too many," he bit out.
"Look at this woman," Ben demanded. "Really fucking look at her!"
Pierce, whose eyes had been locked on Ben's face over my shoulder, lowered his gaze to me.
"What do you want me to see, Ben?" he asked finally, voice tight and in control.
"Tell me you don't see it?" Ben asked roughly.
Pierce stared at me hard and long, but didn't offer a comment. Ben must have become impatient.
"Tell me," he said, moving from behind me, to rest his hands flat on the table at my side and lean over top of Pierce, "that you haven't seen this look before."
What?
Pierce returned his attention to me, from the tightly coiled Māori in front of him. His gaze took me in completely. My face shadowed, my shoulders hunched, my body curled in on itself. I'd been like this pretty much since I sat down. Even though I bit back, it had all been an act. Something I had trained myself to do. Something my father had trained me to do. I was good at acting, but I wasn't infallible.
What I was, was exhausted. At the end of my ability to keep running. Tired enough to lower my guard and let Ben in. Weary enough to let a stranger, a threat, see... me.
Pierce let another long breath of air out and sat back
in his chair.
"You came in here with preconceived ideas," Ben said in a low, dark voice. "You had me following her with preconceived ideas. And all along, she was the one we should have been protecting. Not him."
"I was never protecting him," Pierce shot back. "Don't fucking think for a minute that I'd protect scum like him. But the evidence of these crimes, the type of crimes committed, led to her and with that knowledge it wasn't hard to believe she was still Roan McLaren's to control."
"You got it fuckin' wrong," Ben said, shifting back from the table and crossing his arms over his chest. He looked entirely too big in the small interrogation room just then.
"Fuck!" Pierce finally burst out. Standing up so quickly his chair almost toppled over. He took one more look at me, and as though he couldn't stand the sight, turned and faced the wall, placing his back to both Ben and myself. His clenched fists rested on his hips. He was breathing too quickly.
From that position he asked, "You're fucking sure about this, aren't you?"
"I have never been so fuckin' sure about anything else in my entire life," Ben answered evenly.
Pierce actually groaned. "Did he...?" He obviously couldn't finish his question, but Ben must have understood what he was about to ask.
"Harmed people she knew. People she cared about. All as a threat to keep her in line. But her father stood between McLaren and her at extreme risk to himself."
Holy shit, did it sound good hearing Ben speak of my father like that, even though the topic made my stomach flip uncomfortably inside.
"Jesus," Pierce said on an exhaled breath of air.
He turned back around to face us, his eyes flicked to mine then and I saw something that hadn't been there before. I think it was compassion. Even with that goatee still plastered on his face, he was so far from sinister right then I had to blink twice.
"Five years you've been running," he said quietly. "Scared he'd catch up." I just stared at him. "And all the while he used us to track you down."
Pierce was right. These crimes were all Roan's doing, in an attempt to locate me. He'd found me at each of those spots I'd been hiding at, but before he could grab me, I'd moved on. In an effort to find my next location, Roan had the crimes undertaken and tipped the cops off to it being me. In the hopes they'd catch me for him.
Clever, sneaky, disgusting bastard.
Ben moved to sit down on the chair beside me and slipped his hand in mine. His fingers entwined with my fingers. The warmth of his body heat infused me through our touch. Despite this new realisation of just what lengths Roan would go to get me, I was no longer alone and Ben wanted to remind me. I squeezed back when his fingers tightened once.
"So, what now?" I asked Pierce.
Pierce looked at me solemnly and took a deep breath in.
"Maybe we should get a cup of coffee for this next bit," he suggested softly.
I was in no mood for stalling. I'd just been through hell and back, accused of crimes I'd never committed, been placed well within McLaren's network of criminals. I must have squeezed my hand too tightly. Out of fear or anger or sheer frustration, because Ben hissed a breath out, flexed his own fingers back in warning and then leaned over to whisper, "Like your grip, red, but my fingers are goin' numb."
My eyes flicked to his. Amusement laced with concern met my gaze.
"Just spit it out, Pierce," Ben said, not shifting his face away from mine.
"Sarah," Pierce started, the first time he'd relaxed enough to not call me Ms Monaghan.
"Name's Abi," Ben pointed out. "She ain't Sarah no more." He continued to hold my gaze, almost challenging me with that statement. I nodded, to let him know I agreed.
"Abi Monaghan," I whispered. I wanted my Dad's surname back. I wanted to be the woman who had caught Ben Tamati's eye and heart. That woman hadn't been Sarah Monaghan. It hadn't even been Abi Merchant. Not really. It was the woman beneath the pencil skirts and fitted blouses that he saw. It was the persona I had begun to embrace after he started shadowing me.
"OK, Abi," Pierce said. My eyes flicked to his, having heard the gravity on those two simple words. "We've been working with someone high up in McLaren's organisation."
Shit, who would risk so much?
"They've given us valuable information. Told us things that were extremely sensitive."
"Just fuckin' tell her," Ben bit out at my side.
Pierce looked a little uncomfortable, but finally caved in.
"Arthur Monaghan," he said, and my heart leapt out of my chest.
"My Dad?" I asked, as my body began to shake in fear and confusion and dare I say it, hope.
"Yes, quite a coincidence," Pierce answered, tipping the world off its axis...
...and spinning my world out of control.
Chapter 17
Together We Could Make Each Other Free
"How?" I breathed. "Is he OK? Did Roan hurt him? Did he get out? How long has been helping you? Can I see him? Where is he now? Is he OK?" I was aware that I had started to repeat myself, but the questions were clambering inside my head, tumbling over one another, and doused in an enormous amount of hope and fear.
"Red," Ben said softly.
"Abi," Pierce said with a harder edge to his tone. I don't think he was trying to be mean, I think he was trying to shock me out of my downward spiral.
"Or dear God," I moaned. "He thought I'd left the country already, hadn't he?" I asked, my eyes pleading with Pierce to confirm or deny, I don't know which.
"Yes. He told us you would be long gone, that's why he finally agreed to our terms," Pierce said, voice gentler now.
"What terms?" I asked, needing to know everything.
"In order to gain immunity from prosecution he had to divulge everything he knew. If we found out he held something back at a later date, the agreement would be void. At first he refused. Then, after some time, he came back to us and signed the contract. Told us about you. Of course, he insisted you were innocent. We believed he was lying, considering the evidence of the crimes we associated with you."
"When did you start working with him?" I asked, ignoring the repeated reference to my crimes.
"One year ago." Holy shit. That long?
And then I realised, Dad had waited four years for me to follow his instructions, to get an ID good enough to fool border control. He'd given me an extra two years, just to be sure. But I'd let him down. I'd not been able to find a forger good enough, until I was given my latest contact's name. And even then it had taken me months to build up courage to shift to Auckland. Big metropolitan city meant bigger chance of a kingpin like Roan. And my fear had been confirmed this morning.
"He gave us a photo of you taken just before you left the Compound," Pierce said. I was guessing it was the same photo Ben had shown me. "To my utter surprise, having followed your trail for so long and not actually catching up with you, you were in Sweet Seduction one day, when I was visiting with Genevieve Cain. It took several minutes for me to align this image," - his hand washed out over my body indicating my attire and appearance, no doubt - "with the young punk girl in the photo. And with the leather-clad girl we'd been tracking through her supposed crimes linked to Roan McLaren all over the country for the past five years."
"What gave me away?" I asked numbly. Every new location involved a completely new hide. I thought I'd been good at hiding.
And I had. Neither Roan nor the police had actually caught me until Auckland.
"The way you stir your coffee." Huh, I didn't know I had a 'tell' like that. "You do three turns to the right, then three to the left, then three right again. It's pretty memorable. I remembered watching your father do the same thing during an interview once."
I smiled, it wasn't entirely humorous. But I could just picture Dad stirring his coffee like that.
"It made me look at you twice, then I started to see other structural similarities, looked into your history, found you didn't exist before Pennyworth's, although they thought you had a long line of reta
il experience. Connected all the dots and realised I had our pharmacy robbing criminal, part of McLaren's network, right under my nose."
"You could tell my identity was fake," I said for clarification, unsure how to take any of this. Obviously, I couldn't run anymore. I'd been found. And, even though I didn't want to run anymore, the shock of not being able to made me quake in unmitigated fear.
"It was pretty obvious once all the facts were laid out," he confirmed. "But we didn't want to take you in straight away. We still believed you were working for McLaren, who's been trying to expand into King's territory for several years. So, I hired ASI and Ben to shadow you, expecting you to meet up with McLaren and give him some sort of reconnaissance information, in order for him to advance on King."
"Holy shit," I muttered. It kind of made sense. No wonder he thought I was a mole.
"You were going to join the dots for us. The more we had to throw at McLaren, the harder it would stick in the end. But, I'll admit, your father kept insisting that you were gone. That you were safe. And, I'm guessing, my attention on you, the taskforce's attention on you, brought you under King's notice in the end. Just like McLaren, Declan King has ways of using our intel to get what he wants."
I felt Ben stiffen at my side, an angry energy emanated from him. I didn't have it in me to be angry at Detective Pierce though. I understood how he'd come to that conclusion, and I also understood the motivation to catch Roan McLaren at all costs. What was one woman in the scheme of things?
"I was meant to be gone. Dad told me to leave the country after a couple of years. By that time Roan would have relaxed his search for me and I would have made sufficient contacts to know who were good enough to forge papers that would fool border control. I just wasn't as good as Dad had assumed. It took longer to find my contact."
"The one you visited out West the other day?" Pierce guessed. I just nodded. He rubbed at his goatee for a moment, a thumb on one side, his forefinger on the other. It was a thoughtful pose. "He is good," he admitted. "Made me think you were about to do something big."
Sweet Seduction Shadow Page 17