The Dark Series

by Catherine Lee

  “I do support you, Eva. You mean the world to me. Your father and I, we’re so proud of you, of everything you’ve done.”

  “Then why can’t you help me now? Can’t you see that I have to do this?”

  “Quite frankly, no. I’m worried that you’re opening yourself up too much to this man. Remember he’s a reporter. How do you know he’s been completely honest with you? How do you know he’s not lying to you for the sake of getting a story?”

  “How can you say that? His wife is missing!”

  “Is she? I mean, do you know that, for sure?”

  Eva couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mother was actually suggesting that Andrew was lying, that his wife wasn’t missing at all, that he was using her to get some kind of story. It didn’t make any sense.

  “He’s helping me as much as I’m helping him. I can’t believe you would say something like that.”

  Brenda’s tone softened. “I’m just trying to protect you, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t need protecting. Why do you have to interfere in my life all the time? I’m a grown woman, for God’s sake. You’ve been trying to protect me my whole life. From what? When are you going to let me live my own life?”

  “Eva, calm down. Don’t be like that, please. I’m sorry. It’s just, you’re my only child. You’re my baby, you’ll always be my baby. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

  “I’m thirty years old, Mum, but you still treat me like a child. I’ve had enough. Don’t tell me who I can see and who I can’t. Stop trying to run my life.”

  Eva had gone too far, she knew it, but it had been a rough morning and she had no energy left to worry about her mother’s feelings. Fortunately, one of the orderlies chose that moment to come in and prep her for the biopsy. Brenda was clearly hurt, and for the first time in a very long time she had nothing to say. She picked up her bag and walked out the door, leaving Eva to concentrate on the biopsy that would tell Dr Graham whether she was rejecting the heart.

  Was she rejecting the heart? If she was, did she care? This heart was so repulsive, so evil. She’d die without it, but could she really live with it?

  32

  Quinn was at his desk still poring over his spreadsheet when Cooper arrived back at the station.

  “Find anything, kid?”

  “Just a theory, nothing conclusive yet. What about you? Any joy from the lab?”

  “Man, I could never work in a place like that. All benches and chemicals and fluorescent lights. It could be lunchtime or the middle of the night in there and you’d never know the difference.”

  “Okay, but did you get the result?”

  “Dulux Weathershield Low Sheen Acrylic. Colour — Hog White.”

  “House paint?”

  Cooper nodded. “House paint.”

  “Hog White. Geez, they come up with some names, don’t they?”

  “You’re not wrong. Anyway, it’s exterior paint. Now he obviously wasn’t painting his entire apartment building, and the list of friends he could be helping is not long at all. So what do you suppose he was painting, Joey?”

  Quinn leant back in his chair, elbows on the armrests, index fingers making a point under his chin. “It ties in with my theory,” he said. “Everything is pointing toward a house somewhere. I reckon the reason he was two months late with Andrea Bonetti was a change of location.”

  “Yeah, that thought crossed my mind, too.”

  “It fits, although with no bodies there’s no forensic evidence to back it up.”

  “Okay, let’s work on the assumption that Grant acquired access to this location back in ’01, and he recently decided to paint it. What’s our next move?”

  “Could we make a public appeal? Ask for information on half-painted houses within weekend driving distance of Sydney?”

  “Let’s narrow the field a little first. I reckon he would have bought the paint somewhere between his home in Glebe, and the place we’re looking for. I’m sure he would have been careful enough to pay cash, but I doubt he would have gone out of his way to buy it in a different location. So, if we check the major hardware stores for recent purchases of this colour paint, maybe we find where he bought it and we know what direction we’re heading.”

  Quinn was sceptical. “Loads of people buy house paint, boss.”

  “Yeah, but we have the specific brand and colour. If we make the assumption he was painting a whole house, he would have had to buy a lot of it, and he’s the type of guy who would calculate how much he needed and buy it all in one go to make sure the colour matched. Plus, we can rule out purchases by tradesmen. And paint is expensive. We’re looking for a cash sale, surely there won’t be too many cash sales of hundreds of dollars worth of Dulux Weathershield Low Sheen Acrylic Hog White paint in the last few months.”

  “Good point. I’ll get onto it now,” he said, putting aside his spreadsheet. “I’m not getting any further with this anyway.”

  Cooper was excited. It felt like his first real breakthrough on this case. God knew they needed it after so long. But he still had a nagging feeling — why was Fraser Grant at home on Monday? Why didn’t he go to work? Who did he want his father to meet? With the paint this morning consuming his attention, Cooper had almost forgotten he’d requested Jack Simpson be brought back in for questioning. The old guy should be here by now. He picked up the phone to check, and was told that Jack had just arrived and was being taken to one of the interview rooms.

  “I’ll leave that with you for now, Joey. The father is here, I need to go have another chat with him. I’m in interview room two. Come find me if you get anything.”

  Quinn nodded, already on a call. Cooper put his notebook in his pocket and made his way down to the interview rooms, stopping on the way to make a cup of tea for Jack and a coffee for himself. He even took a couple of those little packets of biscuits. He needed cooperation this time, a friendly chat, rather than an interrogation.

  “Milk, no sugar, that right?” asked Cooper as he put the paper cup down in front of Jack.

  Jack Simpson said nothing, looking up at the detective suspiciously. Shit, thought Cooper, I must have really done a number on him last time. He didn’t mean to upset people, he just liked to get the truth. It meant he wasn’t always on his best behaviour in the interview room.

  “Look, Mr Simpson, we got off on the wrong foot last time. I may have been a little rough on you, and I apologise for that. It’s just, I’ve been looking for your son for nine years, and with the thought of one more woman out there somewhere, well, I got worked up. You understand don’t you, Jack? Can I call you Jack?”

  Jack shrugged and took a sip of the warm tea. “Everyone does,” he said. The two men eyed each other before Jack continued. “Detective, put yourself in my shoes for a moment. I’ve had to barricade myself in my home because the press and then the public found out where I live. People abuse and threaten me wherever I go. But I can handle that. People are angry, they have to vent that anger somehow and I am the only living target. Sometimes I even think I deserve it. I have to live with what Fraser has done. All those women dead, their families’ lives changed forever. If this last woman dies, that’s another life on my conscience. Do you see what I’m saying? I want her found alive just as much as you do, as the rest of the country does. So if you plan on keeping me here again for hours on end and yelling at me to tell you the truth, you’re wasting your time. If I knew anything at all that could help you find her, I would have told you already.”

  “Then why do I still get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?”

  “For God’s sake, Detective, are you really going to keep going with this? I’m not under arrest, am I? I’m free to leave at any time. That’s what the constable who brought me in here said.”

  “Okay, okay, I apologise.” Time for a different approach. “The thing is, Jack, there could be something you know that you think isn’t important, isn’t relevant, but maybe it is. Listen, we’ve come up with som
e new evidence I’d like to ask you about.” Cooper was reluctant to discuss the paint lead at this early stage, but he had to give Jack something to show him he was asking for help this time. The reason for Grant not going to work on Monday could wait, it was more important to follow up the lead that could help find Amanda.

  “Go on then.” Jack drained the rest of his tea.

  “We found traces of paint under Fraser’s fingernails. We had it analysed, and it turns out it’s house paint, the kind used on the exterior of a building. Do you have any idea what it was he might have been painting?”

  Jack looked confused. “I never saw Fraser paint anything in his life. Are you sure? It doesn’t sound like him. I mean, he hated to get his hands dirty, for one thing. Never was one for home maintenance of any kind, really.”

  Cooper had to admit he’d been surprised himself at the mention of paint under the fingernails. He thought it odd for such a neat and clean freak to have anything under his nails. But it was only a trace sample, perhaps not visible enough to the naked eye when Fraser had been cleaning up. More importantly, Cooper had also thought Fraser was not the painting type. But then, if this was a house he wanted no-one else to see, no-one to link to him, it made sense that he would do the jobs he could himself to limit exposure. Cooper found himself wondering if Fraser Grant had set himself up with not only a second home, but an entire second identity.

  “Jack, how often did you see Fraser? How close to him were you?”

  “I went through this with that doctor of yours, the psychiatrist guy.”

  “Psychologist. Dr Christie. I know, but humour me would you? Please?”

  Jack sighed. “During football season he came over every Friday night and we watched the game together. Then sometimes he would call in through the week, help me with getting the groceries in, that sort of thing. He looked after me, have to give him that.”

  “Did you ever see him on weekends?”

  “No, not very often. He worked a lot on weekends, or that’s what he told me. I assume it was a mix of work and play. Didn’t want to hang out with the old man on the weekends. No. Friday nights were our time, and that suited me fine.”

  “Did you ever meet any of Fraser’s friends? People he might have mixed with?”

  “I met two guys from his work once, but that was years ago. Fraser wanted to buy me some new clothes, and we had lunch afterwards at a café near his office before he went back to work. The two men came to our table and said hello. They spoke with us for a few minutes, small talk, you know. It was pleasant enough, although I thought it strange that Fraser didn’t introduce me as his father. But no, I don’t know who he ‘mixed with’, as you say. Fraser kept to himself a lot. He wasn’t an easy person to get to know, and he had quite a temper on him as well. Got that from his mother.”

  “Can you give me an example?”

  “Of his temper? Sure. Can I get another cup of tea, please?”

  On his way to the tearoom Cooper took a detour to Quinn’s desk to see if he was making any progress. So far Quinn had made over forty calls, and had just cornered Davis and Saulwick and talked them into helping him.

  “No luck yet, boss.”

  “Keep at it.” Cooper gave his partner a reassuring nod and a smile that said kudos for roping in the other two.

  Back in the interview room, he noticed that Jack was sitting up a little straighter, and his eyes were not quite so grey. He’s happy to be helping, thought Cooper. I could actually get somewhere here.

  “There you go. Got some more bikkies as well.”

  “Thanks. You know, I remember this one time a few years back when Fraser really lost his temper with me.”

  “With you? What did you do?”

  “Well, like I said, he mostly came to my house. I hardly ever visited him at his apartment. I don’t think he wanted me over there messing the place up. You would have seen how tidy it was, right?”

  Cooper nodded, but kept quiet so Jack could continue.

  “Anyway, it suited me. I don’t get around as easily as I used to. But one week I was having the place sprayed — terrible cockroach problem — think it had to do with the Chinese restaurant over the back. Wouldn’t ever eat there if I were you. Anyway, only day the guy could come was a Friday, and you have to stay out of the place for twenty-four hours. So I went and stayed with Fraser overnight.”

  “He was happy for you to stay with him?”

  “It’s not like he had a lot of choice. I had nowhere else to go. But I gave him notice and he seemed fine with the idea. He had a spare bedroom. It was a logical solution. Everything went fine, but I’d forgotten to bring my book with me. I always have at least one book on the go, you see. Can’t go to sleep at night without having a read. So I pulled a book off his shelf, just to have something to read for a few minutes. As I opened it a letter fell out. It looked like a bill of some sort, electricity or gas or something, but it wasn’t addressed to Fraser. I didn’t think much of it at the time, just put it on the desk and went on with my reading. It wasn’t until the next morning that all hell broke loose.”

  “When he found the bill?”

  “Yes. He came in to see if I was awake. It was quite early but he said he had to go to work and he wanted to give me a lift home on the way. Then he saw the envelope on the desk. He got very angry, accusing me of snooping around in his private things, saying he’d never let me stay again. I thought it was over the top. I tried to explain, but he was beyond reason. I know when that happens I need to let him calm down, so I got myself dressed and caught the bus home. I didn’t hear from him until the following Friday, and of course by then he was back to normal. He never mentioned that bill again, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to.”

  “Can you remember the name on the bill, Jack?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so, Detective. It was a long time ago. At least four or five years. Maybe more.”

  “Give it some thought. It could be very important.”

  Jack opened a packet of biscuits and took one out, dunking it in his tea. He left it in there so long that Charlie saw some bits break off and sink to the bottom of the paper cup. But the last thing he cared about was tea and biscuits. He needed that name.

  33

  Eva was exhausted. It had been such a difficult night. First the dream, and then recalling it with Andrew, the biopsy, not to mention her mother, who hadn’t returned since leaving so abruptly a couple of hours ago. When Taylor arrived Eva’s eyes were closed, but she wasn’t sleeping.

  “Rough night? You look like crap.”

  “You’ve got no idea.” Eva opened her eyes and sat up in bed, accepting the hot cup of chamomile tea Taylor offered.

  “Where’s reporter boy?”

  “He left when Mum came in this morning.” Eva drank her tea and tried to relax, focusing on her deep-breathing exercises.

  “I had a call from your mum this morning. She’s really freaking out, worse than I’ve ever seen her. What exactly happened between you two?”

  “I told her to butt out of my life. She didn’t take it too well.”

  Taylor’s eyes widened. “You did what? You never fight with your mum like that. What’s going on?”

  “I’m sick of being treated like a child, Taylor. I know I’m in the hospital, but I don’t need to be constantly reminded of it. I’m a grown woman, I can take care of myself, but for some reason Mum just doesn’t get that. She never has. I’d still be in pigtails and pink dresses if she had her way.”

  Andrew entered the room, giving Taylor no chance to respond. Greetings were exchanged instead, and Eva was surprised at how relieved she was to see him.

  “Well one of you had better tell me what’s going on here,” Taylor asked, after they’d finished with the hellos and apologies for abrupt earlier departures.

  Eva looked at Andrew. Thankfully, he recognised how tired she was and took the lead. It was strange listening to him describe her dream. She saw it all played back in her head as he spoke, so clear. Wo
uld she ever be able to erase those images from her mind? From her heart?

  “So what do we do next?” asked Taylor once she was filled in.

  “I called Georgie while I was out,” said Andrew. “Told her all of this. She thinks she might be able to get Eva to work backwards through the memory.”

  “Work backwards?” asked Eva.

  “Yeah. This is not really a dream, it’s a memory of an actual event, right? Memories don’t necessarily have a finite start and end point. Georgie says that if your heart can remember walking into the room and seeing the woman, maybe it can remember before that.”

  Eva was beginning to understand. “So if I can remember further back, I might see the house, or even the address?”

  “That’s the idea, yeah.”

  “Are you sure you’re up for something like this?” asked Taylor.

  Eva nodded. “I’m in too deep now. Every time I close my eyes…”

  “I’ll call Georgie back,” said Andrew, already dialling.

  “Can you do that outside? I need a moment with Eva.”

  “Sure.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Taylor wasted no time. “Do you really think it was wise to have a go at your mum like that? What if she decides she doesn’t want to help us out at the store anymore? She doesn’t have to do that, you know.”

  Eva couldn’t believe her friend was siding with her mother. She didn’t have the energy for this. “Taylor, there are bigger things going on here than the stupid store. Hire someone else, if that’s your problem. Mum needs to back off. I’m not a kid anymore.”

  “You’re still her kid, though.”

  “Now you sound just like her. Why are you sticking up for her, anyway? Oh, that’s right. You don’t think I can look after myself either, do you?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s not just Mum. I can see it in you every day you come in here. It’s like I’m a pet project for the two of you, taking it in turns to look after poor little Eva. Well I’m sick of it.”