Brenda said nothing. It seemed tears were all she could manage. Taylor stood at the end of the bed.
“Well it’s about time. I’m exhausted, running that bloody shop on my own. You need to start pulling your weight.”
Eva smiled, glad her fight with Taylor was forgotten. There was no room for that in her life anymore. These were the people she loved.
“Hey,” asked Taylor, “any nightmares while you were having your little nap there?”
She’d forgotten all about the nightmares. She realised that for the first time in over a week there was no-one haunting her sleep, no faceless woman, no empty room. “No,” she smiled. “I guess the heart told me what it wanted me to know.”
“You going to be okay with that heart, then?”
“My heart,” Eva corrected her friend. “It’s my heart now. And yeah, I’m going to be okay.” She looked at Andrew. “It’s time to move on.”
56
Cooper eventually decided to sleep on it. Perhaps another night in the holding cells would give Jack the chance to reconsider.
Driving home, Cooper’s mind wandered away from Jack and towards his own future. Did he really want to quit Homicide? He’d agreed that moving to a local area command would help to regulate his hours so he could spend more time with Liz and the boys, but was that really the reason he had agreed to the move? Sure, it was a factor, but had the decision been driven more by his failure to catch the Adultery Killer?
Cooper drove past the end of his street and kept going, eventually taking a parking space a way down Johnston Street, then walking back to the North Annandale pub. Sydney’s skies were darkening quickly, another spring thunderstorm on the way. He made it to the pub just as the first spots of rain splashed the pavement, ordered a schooner and took a seat in the window to watch the city put on one of her shows.
Jack Simpson was right. Arresting Brenda Matthews would create public outrage and put her daughter through even more hell. Eva knew the truth now, and if she survived her current condition she would still have a hell of a task coming to terms with her mother’s revelations. But at least it was something she could deal with privately. If he arrested Brenda, though, it wouldn’t take long before the truth became very public. Could she survive that?
Was it really up to him? Cooper had spent his career upholding the law, doing the right thing. It was his job to find the truth and bring the criminals to account for their actions, no matter who they were. He was not judge and jury; he had no right to decide matters that should be put before a court.
Cooper drained his beer and purchased another from the bar. He took his seat back at the window and watched the people going home to their families, or out to socialise, or to work. The rain had stopped almost as quickly as it started, and the walkers were head-down, picking their way through the puddles. Most were ending their day, others were just beginning.
After his third beer Cooper had made at least one decision. Homicide was where he belonged, not sorting out domestics and burglaries in a local command. With the exception of this case, Cooper had excelled in the eleven years he’d spent catching killers. He had something special, and he owed it to the Force to stay on. He’d be damned if he’d let Fraser Grant get away with driving him from his passion.
Liz wouldn’t be happy, but they’d work around it. She was ambitious too, she’d understand. He knew in his heart that he’d made the decision the minute they’d found Amanda Fox safe, the minute he knew he still had something to offer the squad. There was nothing like the rush when a case was solved. The adrenalin flowing; feeling like a million bucks. No way an LAC job was going to give that buzz.
After his fourth beer Cooper was glad he’d parked in an unrestricted zone. He shouldn’t be here, he should be at home, but to hell with it. He was entitled to a little recreation every now and then, wasn’t he?
By the time Quinn walked in, Cooper was well and truly drunk.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, trying to stand. He leaned in the direction of the bar.
“I think you might have had enough, hey boss?”
Cooper sat back on his stool. “You’re probably right. What are you doing here?” he asked again.
“Liz called, she was worried. Thought you’d be home hours ago, she said.”
“Oh. Sent you to find me, did she?”
“She asked if I’d look around, yeah. Didn’t have to look very far.”
Cooper shrugged. “Wasn’t hiding.”
Quinn pulled up a stool beside his partner. “So what’s all this about then?”
“What’s what about? Can’t a man have a quiet drink at his local without everyone needing to know his business?”
“He can. And when I see you having a quiet drink, I’ll leave you alone. But you’ve been here over four hours, boss. We haven’t known each other long but I think I know people well enough to know this is more than a quiet drink for you.”
Cooper stared at the kid. He picked up his glass and raised it to his lips, but it was long-since drained. He put it down and looked in the direction of the bar, before deciding enough was enough.
“Joe,” he said, “you and I have a lot to learn about each other.”
“Yes, boss. Come on, let’s get you home. We can start the learning tomorrow.”
“Right. Oh, and Joe?”
“Yes, boss?”
“If Jack Simpson is sticking to his story tomorrow, charge him with murder.”
“Yes, boss.”
Dark Past
1
Beth Fisher strode back into her office, slamming her bag into her assistant’s desk on the way past and knocking his paperweight flying. She didn’t apologise.
“Weren’t you having lunch with your sister?” asked Glen. He picked up his paperweight and stood in her doorway as she threw her bag down and plonked into the chair.
“She didn’t show up. I’ve been standing down in the foyer for fifteen minutes waiting. There’re a thousand things I could have been doing.” Beth picked up the handset of her office phone. The new client they were working with was proving to be a nightmare, and as head of the legal department at Fisher & Co Shipping Agency, Beth was close to tearing her hair out. She had two meetings and about a dozen calls to make before the close of business today, and she could ill-afford the wasted time. Admittedly, she could now grab a quick sandwich and save herself half an hour, but that wasn’t the point. She looked up at Glen. “I’ve been trying to call her, but she must be avoiding me. Can you see if you can get her?”
Glen nodded and went back to his own desk while Beth searched for the number of the client she was supposed to be meeting with this afternoon. This was so typical of Jill. She never seemed to understand how busy Beth was, or if she did she didn’t care. It was alright for Jill, she worked down in the Operations Department for Fisher & Co. Things were hectic there as well, but there were plenty of people to handle the chaos. Beth was the company’s main lawyer, and all legal issues had to come through her. There was no-one else.
“Jill’s not at work today,” said Glen, appearing in her doorway again. “No-one’s heard from her, and her mobile’s going straight to voicemail.” He was tucked safely around the corner as he added a sorry to the news.
“Shit shit shit,” Beth said out loud as she cancelled the partly-dialled number and punched in the extension of a friend down in Operations.
“Gail speaking.”
“It’s me. Glen says Jill’s not in today. What’s her story?”
“No idea. She didn’t call in sick this time, and we can’t get hold of her. I was just about to call you, actually.”
“She doesn’t tell me what’s going on in her head, you know that. What is this, the third day in a couple of weeks that she’s been MIA?”
“Fourth,” said Gail. “Stan’s losing it, but your cousin is sticking up for her so there’s nothing he can really do. He’s all steam. She’s only got another week with us anyway before she goes over to the Found
ation, I’m not sure what he’s expecting.”
Beth had almost forgotten about Jill’s transfer to the Research Foundation — her cousin David’s pet project.
“You want me to send someone around to her place?” asked Gail.
“No, I’ll go,” Beth sighed. It was time she got to the bottom of whatever was going on with Jill, and sending someone else to check on her wasn’t going to help. “Thanks.” She put the phone down and picked up her bag, cursing her sister under her breath as she walked past Glen’s desk and out of the office.
* * *
The air was cool for early March, but Beth didn’t mind. After the long, hot summer Sydney had just experienced, she was enjoying the cooler weather. She walked the short distance from her car to Jill’s apartment complex and buzzed at the security entrance. No answer. She tried again, then used the spare security card Jill had given her for emergencies, and for nights when Beth attended work functions in the city and didn’t want to drive home. It was a while since she’d stayed here, she thought as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. Maybe they should have a girls’ night sometime soon, and she could find out what was going on with her sister.
They’d talked a few days ago, or at least Beth had tried to find out why Jill was ditching work. At first she thought she must be caught up in her family history project again, obsessed as she was with tracing the Fisher family back as far as she could go. Jill was convinced they were descendants of a member of the First Fleet, and she put all her spare time into proving it. But the project had been part of her life for over two years, so it didn’t make sense for it to interfere with her job all of a sudden. Jill liked working for Fisher & Co, having joined the family business a couple of years ago after a string of other career choices hadn’t panned out. David and Uncle Robert both looked out for her and treated her with respect as a member of the family, but it was more than that. She worked hard and was good at building relationships, and they all valued her as a key member of the Operations team. Jill was good with people and she liked her job, so her behaviour lately was getting difficult for Beth to understand.
Beth knocked on the door to apartment 24, not expecting an answer but not wanting to just barge in, either. She turned the key in the lock, opened the door, and realised something was wrong immediately. The side table near the door was empty, the bowl and vase that usually resided there now shattered on the tiled floor. Beth let the door close behind her and hurried into the living room.
It was the legs she caught sight of first. Jill’s legs. She recognised the bulky little calves her sister hated, poking out from behind the lounge suite she’d picked up from a garage sale two years ago. Fear crept up Beth’s own legs and jerked itself through her body, leaving her spine rigid and taking her breath away. She edged closer to the body, somehow knowing it was a body, not her sister anymore. Jill was lying face down on the rug, wedged between the lounge and the coffee table, her head turned to the side, eyes staring but not seeing — never to see anything again.
Beth stared and stared at her sister, her baby sister, the only sibling she had. She stepped forward, circled the coffee table until she reached Jill’s head, and dropped to her knees. She reached out a hand, then pulled it back, reached out again, then closed her fist and clenched her teeth. Jill was gone. Beth wanted to shake her and bring her back, but somehow she knew it wasn’t going to make any difference. Instead she sat close to her sister, hugged her own knees to her chest, and let the tears roll down her cheeks.
2
Cooper pulled the unmarked police car into a sort of space on Kent St, while his partner fished the police sign out of the glove box and placed it on the dashboard. They’d got the call from Sydney City Local Area Command to attend a murder scene, and Cooper spotted an officer at the entrance to a nearby building.
The basic details of the case had been relayed over the phone — single white female victim, signs of a struggle, first impression was of a burglary interrupted but there was no sign of forced entry. Cooper liked to form his own opinion of the scene, so he tried to ignore any details that involved first responders making assumptions.
“This way, Joe,” he said as they put their jackets on and Cooper locked the car. He strode towards the door, Detective Senior Constable Joe Quinn, his partner of almost six months now, following close behind.
Cooper showed his badge to the officer on the door, who let them into the building and pointed to the lift. They rode up in silence, which was broken as soon as the doors opened onto the second floor — the paramedics standing in the hallway were having a heated discussion about a team in the English Premier League. Cooper fought his way past them in the narrow hallway to the entrance to apartment 24, where he was immediately recognised by a familiar face.
“Detective Sergeant Charlie Cooper, how the hell are ya?” said the officer, holding his hand out for Cooper to shake.
“Same old, same old, George.” Cooper introduced the man to Quinn. George Osbourne had been with Sydney City LAC for at least ten years, Cooper figured, so they’d run into each other enough times to be familiar acquaintances. While standard procedure was for local detectives to notify Homicide within twenty-four hours of a suspicious death, with straightforward cases then handled by the relevant detectives from the local area command, a case like this usually called for a joint investigation led by Homicide. Sometimes there was animosity between the locals and Homicide, not helped by a number of dicks in Homicide who strutted around crime scenes giving orders like they owned the place, but Cooper had been a detective long enough to know that you get a lot further with cooperative locals than with pissed off ones.
“Pathologist here yet?” asked Cooper.
“Garrett’s with the body. We’ve got a female officer in the bedroom with the victim’s sister, and SOCOs are doing their thing,” said Osbourne.
“The sister the one who found the body?”
“Yeah. Said the door was locked when she got here. Let herself in with a spare key. She’s pretty broken up, but she’s adamant she never touched the body.”
“That’s something.” Cooper moved towards the living room where forensic pathologist Dr Garrett Byrnes was leaning over a young woman lying in an awkward position between the lounge and coffee table. He acknowledged the doctor with a nod, and took in the scene for himself. There were signs of a limited struggle, some items knocked off side tables and coffee tables, but nothing was broken except a bowl and a vase that had landed on tiles in the front entrance. Nothing in the kitchen appeared to be disturbed. There was a small balcony off the living room: the sliding door not locked.
He turned back to George. “Was this unlocked when you came in?”
“Yes. I asked the sister about it, she said the victim frequently forgot to lock that door. She felt safe enough being on the second floor, apparently.”
Cooper turned to Zach Ryan, one of the senior forensic technicians. “Make sure you process that door and the balcony.”
“Already done, Coop.”
Cooper knew Zach well: he’d done some good work for them on a previous case. A genius when it came to computers, Zach was the go-to guy for anything technical, but he was also one of the leading scene-of-crime officers the city had. Cooper didn’t recognise the young woman in SOCO overalls standing next to Zach, but there’d be time for introductions later. He turned to Quinn. “Take a look out there, see if it’s a possible way in.”
“Sure, boss.”
Cooper took another look around the living area then moved through the small apartment to the bedroom. A tall, dark-haired woman wearing a smart business skirt suit was sitting on the edge of the bed, wiping her eyes in that way women do when they don’t want to smudge their makeup.
“Hello,” he began. “I’m Detective Sergeant Cooper, I work with the homicide squad. I’m sorry for your loss.” He held out a hand, and the woman took it with a surprisingly firm grip.
“Beth Fisher. I don’t understand… Why would someone do t
his to Jill? She never hurt anyone.”
“It’s not something I can easily answer for you, Ms Fisher. Sometimes there’s no explanation as to why people do the things they do. But I can promise you my partner and I will do everything in our power to find out who did this to your sister, and bring them to justice.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise to try.”
“Yes, but you can’t promise to bring them to justice. I’m a lawyer, Detective Cooper. I’ve seen bad people do bad things and get away with it.” She wiped her eyes again, and Cooper noticed the tiniest of makeup smudges this time.
“They don’t always,” he said.
“No, you’re right,” she replied, wiping her nose with another tissue provided by the uniformed officer perched next to her on the bed. “It’s kind of you to say you’ll try.”
“Boss?” Quinn was standing in the doorway. Cooper motioned for him to enter the room, and introduced him to Beth Fisher. Quinn said all the right things then indicated he wanted a private word.
“Will you excuse me for a minute, Ms Fisher?”
“Please, call me Beth. Do I have to stay here any longer? I need to get back to the office.”
“I don’t think you should go back to work today,” said the uniform. A small, timid looking woman, Cooper thought she would look more comfortable anywhere but here.
“Is there someone we can call for you?” he asked Beth.
“No. My office is not far away, and my family is there. I know what you mean about not going back to work, Detective, but in my case it really is the best thing. The people I need are all there.” More tears ran down her face, and Cooper couldn’t help thinking of the number of times he’d had to deal with a bereaved family member. It was too often. People reacted to the death of a loved one in so many different ways, it was impossible to know the right thing to say. If there was a right thing.
The Dark Series Page 36