by Amos, Gina
‘Did you know he’d changed his family name?’
Fin nodded. ‘Robbie told me. Robbie found out he’d changed it from Reilly to Hill. I still can’t believe Gracie made a deal with Uncle Patrick.’
‘It might have had something to do with the family’s reputation,’ Jill said. ‘It was a different time when you were growing up, people didn’t like to talk about paedophilia, especially when a family member was involved.’
‘Remember when I told you, you knew nothing about families?’ Fin twisted her lips into a half-smile. ‘Well, you don’t know the half of it.’
Silence.
‘What do you remember about the night Robbie died?’ Jill asked.
The hurt and grief on Fin’s face was palpable. She closed her eyes.
Jill held her ribs and tried to stand.
Fin’s eyes flashed open. ‘Sit down,’ she screamed and waved the gun at Jill.
Jill sat.
‘I can’t remember much of what happened that night, okay? But I swear if I did push him, I didn’t mean to, I was pissed, confused.’ The wind whistled through the tower. Fin drew a deep breath, wiped her eyes. ‘I phoned Robbie, told him I was in the tower and he had to come up and get me, or else I’d jump. I taunted him, made him climb the stairs even though I knew he was scared of heights. I was surprised he did it. He was standing where you are now. He told me it was time I learnt to take responsibility for my life. When I climbed up onto this ledge here, I told him I was going to jump; he tried to get me down.’ Fin reached into the pocket of her jeans with her free hand and wrapped her fingers around the feathers she’d brought with her. ‘I’ve been having these dreams. I think there was somebody else here but I don’t know who it was. Thought it was Adam but it couldn’t have been him because he was in hospital.’
‘According to Adam it was one of Wan’s men. And Robbie fell…you didn’t push him.’ Jill tried to reach out to Fin, but Fin raised the gun again.
‘I must have blacked out, ‘cause I can’t remember any of that. One minute Robbie was standing there and…when I woke up I thought Robbie had gone home and left me here on my own, so I walked back down the steps and left. I had no idea he was lying down there on the ground.’ Fin turned to look at the ground over her shoulder. She rubbed her temple with the gun barrel. ‘I’m so tired.’ Fin heard the words but couldn’t work out how they were coming out of her mouth. Her lips felt like they were covered in something heavy and sticky, like bubble gum. Where was she? Who was the woman sitting by the stairs? Robbie’s friend? The detective?
Fin heard footsteps, voices. She ran the palm of her hand along the gun barrel. What was she saying, the woman with the bruised face? Her lips were moving but Fin couldn’t make out the words. The woman was walking towards her, getting closer. So close. Just take one step, Fin. It will be over in a second. Fin watched the angel’s feathers catch flight, taken up by the wind.
A scuttle of feet, strong arms reaching out.
‘No! Fin! No!’
Fin Calloway fell into the sky.
Was it seconds? Minutes? Rimis was beside her, holding her, talking quietly to her, reassuring her.
Jill sobbed. Shook her head. ‘I was talking to her…I thought I could bring her down. I tried to save her, but I couldn’t.’ Jill looked up into Rimis’s eyes.
Rimis wrapped his arms around her. Jill leaned against him and punched her closed fists against his chest.
‘She’s gone, Jill. They’re both gone. There’s nothing you could have done for either of them.’
FORTY-NINE
The final account of Operation Warlord had taken almost ten days for Detective Inspector Scott Carver to write. He threw the signed report into his out-tray and leaned back in his office chair. It wasn’t a lengthy or complicated report but Jill Brennan’s unexpected involvement in the operation and the demands on his time over the past month in general had left him reeling. His feelings for her went much deeper than he realised.
He knew she could be reckless, but her tenaciousness and investigation into Robbie Calloway’s death had ultimately led them to Vincent Wan. And he knew if it hadn’t been for Fin Calloway’s involvement with Adam Lee and Robbie’s subsequent suspicions of him, Vincent Wan would still be at large.
On the other side of the city, Jill walked into Rimis’s office and sat down in the visitor’s chair. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and looked across the desk at Rimis. The last couple of weeks had taken their toll on her, not to mention Rimis. She looked at him. They both deserved and needed a holiday.
‘What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on sick leave.’ Rimis put his mug of coffee down and looked into Jill’s tired eyes.
Jill leant over the desk and was about to say something, when Rimis put up his hand to stop her. ‘Listen, I know what you’re thinking. Adam Lee, right? We don’t know what his involvement was, if any in Robbie’s and Hill’s deaths. Adam Lee was in North Shore Hospital the night Robbie died and he’s got a rock-solid alibi for the night Hill died. A female friend said he was home all night with her. They watched a re-run of Love Actually. She gave Chapman a scene-by-scene run-down of the movie.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything. For a start, who’s to say Lee was there? Besides, like me and another couple of hundred thousand women, she’s probably watched that movie more than half a dozen times.’
Rimis looked at her. ‘Really? I thought you were more the Bruce Willis, Die Hard, type, Brennan.’
She was about to have a go at him when the look on Rimis’s face changed. ‘We’re holding Adam Lee on a list of charges a mile long. It should do for now.’
Jill tried to control her breathing, tried to stop the anger taking over. But she knew she’d have to settle for the lesser charges against Adam Lee. What else could she do?
FIFTY
The following morning Jill drove across town to Callan Park. The early Sunday morning traffic was light across the Anzac Bridge. Jill thought back to her short stay in hospital. After Fin had taken her life, Rimis had insisted she return to her hospital bed. She smiled when she thought of Scott Carver and Nick Rimis. They had been like schoolboys vying for her attention. They’d both arrived at the same time and brought flowers and chocolates from the team. Rawlings, Choi and Chapman had brought magazines and fruit. Bea, Harry and Callum had also come to visit, staying by her bedside, talking and watching television with her. She considered all of them family. But she still wanted, needed, more. She’d decided to apply for extended leave. Spain. It was time to go in search of her mother’s family.
Jill pulled into the car park behind the Kirkbride Complex and sat for a long time before she got out. She was still angry with herself for not being able to save Fin and of course there was the lingering guilt over not returning Robbie’s phone call. If she had called Robbie, it may have stopped the tragic chain of events that had led to four deaths: Robbie, Patrick Hill, Vincent Wan and Fin.
Jill found a place to sit in the grassy courtyard and pulled out a sketchpad, a black crayon pencil, and a small sheet of plastic from her backpack. The light was soft and hazy and the walls surrounding the courtyard provided protection from the wind. Jill’s shoulders dropped and as the sketch took shape on the paper in front of her she started to relax.
Half an hour later she was done. She looked up, studied the tower and compared it with the sketch. It was a fair attempt. The decorative stonework moldings, the circular elements of the facades and the double-arch openings had been captured to her satisfaction. A copper ball and weather vein sat on top of the pyramid-shaped roof and she decided to leave the details to the end. Above the lintel was a date stone with MDCCCLXXX111 carved into it. She shifted her weight and resettled the sketchpad on her knees. She was thinking about the Roman numerals when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
‘Might of known you’d be here.’
Jill dropped her sketchpad and turned around.
Rimis smiled and peered over her shoulder
at the sketch. ‘Not bad,’ he said.
‘What are you doing here?’ Jill asked.
‘Thought I’d take a look at this place in the daylight and under different circumstances.’ Rimis looked up at the tower, then back to Jill. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘The bruising is fading, but my ribs still feel like I’ve been trapped in a cardboard compactor for the past week.’ She went to pick up her backpack.
Rimis grabbed the backpack for her.
‘I had a call from Greer. I was going to wait until tomorrow when you came into work to tell you, but I might as well tell you now.’
Jill raised her eyebrows.
‘It’s Fin’s autopsy report. She was suffering from a condition called TLE, temporal lobe epilepsy.’
‘I didn’t see her have any fits,’ Jill said. ‘I thought the blackouts; loss of memory was to do with her heavy drinking.’
‘With the kind of epilepsy Fin had, there isn’t any jerking or loss of consciousness. According to Greer, it can cause changes in mood and personality, usually anger and rage. Also hallucinations.’
‘What about her memory loss?’
‘Apparently when the seizure happens, you can wake up with no memory of where you went or what you did. You can find yourself lost, or in an odd place or situation. The waking up happens when the seizure finishes. Greer told me of a case study she’d read. A woman with the condition drove up a motorway in the wrong direction and ploughed into a family sedan. The occupants of the van were all killed but she escaped injury. She had no memory of getting into the car.
Jill noticed Rimis staring at the tower. She could only imagine what he was thinking.
‘The sad part about it,’ he said, ‘is Fin may have responded to medication.’
Jill knew Rimis was a kind, sensitive man underneath his gruff exterior. He reminded her of a younger version of her father. She suddenly thought it sad that, like her, he had no other plans for a Sunday afternoon other than to revisit a crime scene. Although he’d called Doctor Ross Greer…again.
‘How’s Greer?’ Jill let the question hang, fishing.
Rimis smiled, but then looked off into the distance.
Jill would never get an answer…or maybe she just had.
They stood in silence, taking in the gardens for a few minutes.
Rimis cleared his throat and turned to her. ‘Do you ever regret joining the force?’ Rimis asked.
‘I’ve always felt it was the right decision.’ But after recent events, Jill wasn’t so sure anymore. She let her head fall back and looked up at the sky. It was good to see the sun again after so much rain.
‘Feel like a walk?’ Rimis asked.
Jill nodded. The grass was lush; the pale blue sky was furrowed with wispy bands of clouds.
‘After all that’s happened here, it’s still a beautiful place,’ Rimis said. Jill agreed with him and for a moment she tried to imagine Callan Park, as it once must have been when good people with good intentions designed it. The open fields sloping down to Iron Cove Bay with man-made lakes filled with ducks and swans, vegetable gardens, tennis courts. There had even been a piggery once.
They walked together enjoying each other’s company without talking. They came to a tall sandstone wall.
‘Do you know what they call this?’ Jill asked.
‘A sandstone wall?’
Jill smiled. ‘It’s called a ‘Ha-Ha’ wall. It’s a landscaping device. It was used to provide views of the landscape beyond. Patients felt secure without feeling enclosed. Maybe that was why Fin was drawn to the tower. Like the Jacaranda tree when she was a little girl; she felt safe.’ Jill needed to find somewhere where she felt safe. Somewhere she could see the world in a better light.
Jill took her backpack from Rimis and they walked together across the grounds. The mid-morning light filtered through the leaves of the trees and as she looked back at the tower, she thought of Robbie and Fin, whose lives she was unable to save, and Adam Lee and Vincent Wan. She had to let them all go. It was time to get on with her life.
Acknowledgements
I would like to acknowledge the past patients and staff of Callan Park Mental Hospital (later known as Rozelle Hospital).
Special thanks to friends and family who supported and encouraged me in the writing of this book. I am indebted to Phillipa Martin for her expert editorial services, her wise counsel and patience during the many drafts of the manuscript.
A special thank you to Doctor Coletta Hobbs and Doctor Christopher Lauer for allowing me to ‘pick their brains’ in all matters relating to psychology and pathology, respectively. I enjoyed the conversations!
I would also like to thank Kerry Rogerson for assisting me with police procedures and putting up with my relentless questions during odd hours both day and night.
Also thank you for the forensic information so generously shared by Doctor Doug Lyle.
Asylum is a work of fiction. The clock tower in the grounds of the Kirkbride Complex is not accessible to the general public. Kirkbride is occupied by Sydney University of the Arts and is private property.
I apologise for the liberties I took with police procedures and please forgive any medical, historical, geographical errors or omissions, which were made purely in the interests of dramatic fiction.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gina Amos grew up in the Hunter Valley, a one and a half hour drive north of Sydney. She now lives in the Gold Coast. Gina is married with two wonderful children and aside from writing, she enjoys travelling the world, reading, swimming, boating and spending time with family and friends.
Her first novel, in the Detective Jill Brennan series, Secrets and Lies was self-published in 2011 followed by Killing Sunday in 2014. Asylum is the third novel in the series.