by A N Drew
We took Footscray Road to the M1 freeway, heading for the King Street exit through the central business district. Traffic was light at this time of the morning, all the business people in their offices, slaving away at cubicles, enduring a different kind of hell to mine. My hell involved suppressing the desire to harm Eric Slavosky.
"You'll need to be searched and processed,” Garrett said, keeping his voice quiet. If there was one thing that scared people, it was Ed Garrett when he went quiet. Yelling was the easy part.
"Who'll do that? You?” I stretched my neck around to see Eric's wide, terrified eyes. I smiled and turned back to stare straight ahead.
"You never know your luck in a big city.” Garrett peered into the rearview mirror and smiled.
Slavosky began kicking the front seats, so hard that Garrett's headrest jolted forward. Without missing a beat, Garrett flicked on the indicator and the flashing lights and pulled over into the King Street bus lane.
"Stay in the car, Ed,” I said. But Ed Garrett was out and barely looked back at me. I opened my door to stand on the left-hand passenger side, closer to a concrete barrier. Garrett jerked on the door handle and swung the door open. Slavosky reared backwards on the back seat.
"Easy, Ed,” I said, out of earshot. At least, so I hoped.
"Fuck off, Jack.” Garrett was out of breath, leaning into the car. I pulled Garrett back by his belt, and he staggered backwards. I shoved the car door closed with my left knee.
"What the fuck are you doing? That piece of shit has it coming." Veins pulsed in Garrett's forehead.
"Stopping you from fucking this case up. I’m not going back to the bottle.” I shoved my hands in my jeans pockets to stop me waving them around. Slavosky's face was pressed up against the window. He'd now begun kicking the inside of the doors. I put one arm around Garrett's shoulders and steered him away from the car, towards the barrier and the trees beyond.
Garrett pushed out a breath. "I'm not a dickhead, Jack, I know how it rolls, but I just want one minute, one minute with the fucker."
I paused, thinking about what to say next. "Well, I am a dickhead. I haven't seen my kids since Abbie moved in with her sister, and I've gone through so many bottles, I need a new bin to hold the empties."
Garrett walked off a few steps, staring at the trees. He dropped his head, then walked back. The red mottled veins on his face had stopped throbbing.
"I'm sorry, mate."
"Don't be sorry, Ed. Let's get this fucker. We have to play it by the book."
"No one will know.”
"We'll know."
Ed Garrett swore under his breath. "Yeah, okay."
"Don't look at him or talk to him. He's cuffed, we can get another car. But we won't get another chance to lock him up. For good.”
A glazed curtain closed over Garrett's eyes, and the muscles in his jaw relaxed. He offered a tight nod. Garrett walked around the car and got into the driver’s side.
I swung the front passenger door open and then closed it quietly. Slavosky recommenced the swearing, the screaming, the kicking.
Ed Garrettturned the radio up full volume. He flicked on the right indicator, and finding a gap, hit the accelerator and swung the car back onto the freeway.
We took the King Street freeway exit. As we slowed down, Slavosky's screams subsided, and he muttered and sighed.
I slid my mobile phone from the inside pocket of my jacket and rang ahead to the remand centre or MAP.
"Hello, MAP.” Melbourne Assessment Prison, sometimes also referred to as Melbourne Remand Centre held inmates until sentenced.
"Hi. DS Fletcher, Crime Command. On the way with male early forties, alleged child serial killer, pending charges of stalking and kidnap. Sexual Offences Unit most likely."
"Right. Bring him in, we'll take care of him."
"Thanks, Doug,” I hung up. Doug, late fifties, had been around longer than I had.
"Fuck you bastards,” Slavosky piped up, testing his vocal cords. Both Garrett and I barely blinked. We drove into the sloped drive of the MAP.
Heat surged through my chest. We pulled up and I opened the glove box. The glass, contained within its plastic bag insulation, glared at me, reminding me it shouldn't be there, but in the lab.
Garrett stopped the car and put it in park. His face was a mask, a layer of glass that had fallen. We got out of the car. I walked around and stood next to him as he opened the back passenger door.
"Get out." Although to most people he may have sounded quiet and commanding, I recognised the barbed wire in his voice.
Slavosky complied and got out, looked at both of us, then spat on the floor. Garrett yanked him by the handcuffs and Eric squealed.
We walked to the main reception, where Eric would be processed. He'd be stripped, showered and searched. Shame neither of us would be around for that.
We walked through to the desk, dragging the worm with us, and handed the paperwork over that I'd filled out in the car.
The white counter had flaked in places, and the white plastic had lifted, leaving tiny black holes in random positions.
A short dark-haired man with a name tag that read 'John Hall’ accepted the paperwork, which he held in both hands close to his face. He stared at the papers and then looked up.
"We'll take it from here."
I handed my card over. "If you need it."
John gave me a knowing look. "Right."
Garrett stood as still as a statue; previously, he’d shifted his weight ever so slightly from one foot to the other, barely noticeable to others, but a neon sign to me. Slavosky was taken away and moved out of sight at the end of the corridor.
"Let's get this glass to the lab,” I said to Garrett, but he didn't move or register that I'd spoken. I understood how he felt without a doubt, but progress on the case had lifted the dark cloud from my shoulders, so I pressed on. It was the only thing keeping me in the present. The thought of Slavosky sentenced, and behind bars for life, away from any other children.
Eventually, Garrett turned and joined me in the walk back to the car park, his boots clicking on the linoleum, taking precise steps.
The drive back to Melbourne Crime Command was subdued, but calm. I wondered if this would be the end of it. Based on experience, most likely not. Eric Slavosky would probably drag this out for as long as he could, judging by his violent protests about his innocence.
But then, paedophilic serial killers could surprise the best cops in all sorts of sick ways.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
After visiting the lab and dropping the glass off, I paced for a while, then went through all the information I’d accumulated since the start of the job.
It was still light at lunchtime, although the sky had darkened in places, with a storm threatening to break through. I stayed focused on the task, poring over every report, each syllable burning into my brain.
Garrett, Wallace and I had split the file into sections.
Swanson arrived not long after and swung a free-standing chair around, firmly establishing herself to the left of us.
"Can I help?” she extended a hand.
"Is that a question?"
"No.” She smiled as I handed over a section of paperwork.
My phone buzzed. Selena Hicks. A text.
Meeting in briefing room. Now. Project Beacon.
"Okay folks, boss lady wants a pow-wow."
Swanson stood up immediately, adjusting her jacket over curves I'd done my best not to notice and walked away.
Wallace and Garrett weren't far behind.
As I headed down the corridor, I saw a couple of other detectives striding from the opposite end of the corridor.
Hicks didn't want to mess around today. The board was still up, including photos of Jessica Holmes,Taylor Wentworth, and Bianca Baker along withLouisa Fein, one of Swanson’s last child murder jobs.
Eric Slavosky, the scumbag’s picture, and those of the rescued girls were underneath those along with one of Marlin
Jones.
After we'd all circulated and gathered to stand inside the door and around the walls, Hicks’ voice rang out, clear and true.
"Okay, who's coordinating evidence?"
"I've been through the Fein case and compared it to the Holmes job. Almost identical except for the method of murder." Swanson volunteered this information first.
"And?" Hicks’ feathers barely ruffled.
"I've been in touch with DS Fletcher and SoCIT."
"Great. Tighten it up, I want this a formality. Let's put Slavosky away. Do we have a confession?"
"Not yet.” I figured I'd better speak up considering all my thoughts had been consumed by the job.
"When?"
"I'll go down after the meeting."
"Great. Holmberg, Wallace, find out the status of the rescued girls and talk to Jones again, connect Slavosky to the house where the girls were kept. Davis, Harris, we might need to cut a deal with Jones to get him to talk. Let me know.”
Davis and Harris must have been from the prosecutor’s office.
They nodded. Feet shuffled, and throats were cleared, with a couple of muffled comments.
"Before you go. Good work everyone. I know this has been a tough case for all of us, but you've stayed the course. Now, let's go get our reward."
I walked out towards the car park. I'd sent a text to Will Holmes earlier, but no reply. I'd go see him after the interview with Slavosky.
Reaching the car park, I pressed the unlock button, I got into my car, and thought about my daughters. Abbie had called the night before to set up a meeting, due to happen this Sunday.
Hopefully, I'd need no more than a nightcap to send me off to the land of nod, all being well. It all rode on the confession. I'd need to change tactics, play his game, understand him, offer some compassion. That was never something I enjoyed; I knew I could do it though, if need be, even if I wanted to hurt him, badly.
I drove rather than walking, parked the car, and headed into the main entrance. I walked down the white-tiled corridor towards the main desk for the cells, pulling out my ID as I walked. I stopped at the desk, wide, with a series of other desks behind it.
Dave was still there.
"Back to see your mate?"
"Something like that."
I signed the register Dave shoved my way.
"Go on through." The buzzer blared, and I pulled the heavy door open as the lock clicked. I walked down the long corridor, calm washing over me. I'd done as my long-suffering mother had advised; I'd risen above it, for a purpose, to put the worm away for a long time, I hoped.
Hands in pockets, I reached the makeshift meeting room at the end of the corridor on the right.
I sat back and surveyed the room. A metal table was nailed to the floor.
Paint was peeling off the walls—or had been ripped off. I stretched my shoulders.
Another buzzer sounded, and I heard the clanging of locks from the door on my right.
In came the skinny runt with head held high, hands cuffed. The officer stood between us at the right-hand side of the table and Slavosky sat, extending out his legs. He smiled up at the burly dark-haired officer, a fellow bearded gent.
Mr. Beard didn't smile back.
The officer nodded at me. "I won't be far away."
"Thanks.”
He pushed a button, the buzzer sounding off again and the door clanging shut. The sound reverberated throughout the small bare room.
"What the fuck do you want?"
"A chat.” I pulled a recorder out of my pocket, hit the record button and laid it on the table. "I'm going to record our chat, okay?"
"I don't like the way you chat."
"How about a DNA test?"
"No way."
I figured as much, but confidence had descended. He was within reach, and the end to my alcoholic binges was near, and I had news to give to Will Holmes. It wouldn't bring his daughter back, but it would bring an end, maybe a resolution somehow.
"It doesn't matter, we have the glass. The lab has it now."
The fucking worm paled, much to my satisfaction. He pressed his lips together and shuffled in his seat. I needed to press further but in the right way. Interviewing suspects was always a gamble; they could be pushed, but not too far. They could be prodded, questioned, while a team behind the scenes got the evidence to push further. It was an intense need to put the dregs of society away, mitigated by the law.
There was only one way to get him, a strategy I hadn't tried yet.
Good cop, understanding cop, helpful cop.
I got up from the nailed-down seat and grabbed a chair from the side of the room. It scraped across the chipped linoleum floor and I dragged it next to Slavosky.
I made sure to read him his rights again, speaking clearly for the recorder. Then it began. For real.
"All those bad feelings you have, the sadness, the loneliness; it will go away if you do the right thing."
"Bullshit." Slavosky turned his head away towards the door, which contained a small secure reinforced window. Burly Beard brought his head close to the glass.
"I've been there. I've made mistakes. Big mistakes. It's hard being a man, the pressure, the loneliness, it adds up."
Slavosky didn't answer. He lowered his head.
"If you do the right thing, come clean, the bad feeling will go away. I know how you feel, I've been there."
Slavosky raised his head and rubbed one skinny hairy hand across his mouth. I watched him carefully for a sign, any indication of where this was going.
His eyes reddened.
I waited. After an eternity that was probably more like thirty seconds, he moved his hand away. He sighed.
"So, if I tell you, what happens?"
"You'll feel better. Straight away. You can sleep at night, the bad feeling inside, the loneliness will go. I promise."
His mouth quivered, and he paused to compose himself. Then he spoke in a monotone. "The first one, she died too quickly. Then I met Jessica, beautiful Jessica."
My body tensed, and heat flushed through my body. "Go on, tell me all of it. Get it all out. It will help."
"The first girl had dark hair, the daughter of my ex-girlfriend. We lived together, she was..." Slavosky paused, staring off into space. "So beautiful, so pure. So, I asked my friend to take her somewhere special, somewhere secret."
"Marlin Jones."
Slavosky turned to look out of the only excuse for a window again. He sighed and turned back but couldn't look at me. Instead, he stared at the far wall.
"Yes. He kept them in the house until I was ready."
My stomach curdled.
"You're doing great, keep going. You need to tell the truth, let it out, you'll feel better after you tell the truth."
"I guess. I'm still not sure.”
"You're already partway there. Keep going with me here, get it all out. It's the only way.”
"I met Melinda at the school, after parent-teacher interviews one night. Louisa was already gone. Mel showed me photos of her daughters, Jessica got my attention straight away. I took my time, getting to know Mel, Gemma and Jessica." Slavosky paused, smiling briefly, staring at the ground, then raising his head and sighing.
"How did you kill her?"
"The first girl, Louisa, she went so quickly. So, with Jessica, I went back to the group home, took my time."
I swallowed hard and shifted my chair closer.
"How did you kill her?"
Slavosky looked up as if for some divine inspiration. God might forgive him, but no way in hell would I.
"I put my hands around her neck until she passed out. She was out so long, I figured she'd died, so I tried out my CPR. It worked."
I couldn't speak. After an interminable few seconds, he spoke again.
"She came back to life. So, I tied her up, hung her up, and this time it was slower. Tiny cuts, lots of tiny cuts and burns. She cried out at first, then she stopped."
My arms ached, and my throat bur
ned. "Where are her clothes?"
"They're at my place, her underwear and clothes, under the house in the crawl space, in her backpack."
I picked up the recorder and turned it off. I pushed my chair back and walked towards the door, knocking on the window. The sick feeling had grown.
"Where are you going? I'm not finished.”
I gritted my teeth and spoke without looking at him. "You're going away for a long time. For the rest of your sick fucking life. Where you belong."
Eric stood up. "But you said I'd feel better."
I knocked on the window. I'd heard enough, didn't want to see the piece of shit again. I needed a shower, to wash the crawling slime off my skin. "Officer!"
Burly Beard arrived and opened the door.
I wanted to run down the corridor. Instead, I walked quickly, hoping my skin would stop crawling the farther away I got from Eric Slavosky, evil incarnate.
The guard pushed the button to open the next screening door. Through the window encased in mesh, stood Selena Hicks.
All I saw were her eyes, wide as saucers.
"Thanks,” I said to the guard, who nodded in reply.
I took a few steps towards boss lady, who leaned back against the wall. She looked drawn and pale.
"What's going on?” I tried to keep it low key, a pressure valve, but the both of us knew something shitty had happened.
"You got the confession?"
"Yeah."
"Well, that's something, well done. Now we have another problem. Will Holmes just found out Eric Slavosky was the one that tortured, raped and killed his daughter."
"Holy shit,” I kept my voice low. Although the guards had retreated behind the desk, I figured they’d heard more than they let on. "Let's walk."
Selena walked towards the hallway and hung a right towards the lifts. The hallway was empty. She shoved her hands in her pockets.
"Neighbour called, hearing the screams. Will had gone over to her place and pulled a knife on her."
I wasn't sure if I’d heard her properly. I was careful to keep my tone controlled. "Did you say Will tried to kill his ex?"
She pulled her hands out of her pockets, putting them up in a gesture of surrender, but it was more likely an attempt to calm me down.