The Dark Series

by Catherine Lee

  "Digging a hole, Daddy. Do you like it?"

  "I love it. But I'd love it even more if it wasn't in that part of the garden. Do you want to help me?"

  The little boy's eyes lit up. "Uh-huh," he replied, nodding so much Charlie Cooper wouldn't be surprised if his head nodded all the way off.

  "Okay, come and let's get you set up with some tools." Cooper led his eldest son over to the shed, and soon they were both fitted out with an array of gardening implements.

  "What are we going to do, Daddy?"

  "We're going to pull all the weeds out of this bed here, so we can plant some carrots."

  "Carrots? Yuck. Can't we grow something else?"

  "You don't like carrots? Really? Okay then, we'll think of something else. But for now we have to get the bed ready."

  Michael started attacking the dirt with his four-year-old sized spade. "Why's it called a bed, Daddy? It doesn't look like a bed."

  "It doesn't look like your bed, all snuggly with your blankets. This is a bed for plants, and plants like lots of lovely dirt and worms."

  "Worms! Cool!"

  Cooper smiled, and they both got to work digging weeds and the remnants of last season's tomato plants out of the bed. After a while he thought he heard the doorbell go, and figured it was Liz's parents who were due to arrive any moment for lunch.

  "Do you want to go and see if Nan and Pop are here?" he asked Michael.

  "Okay." Michael threw his spade into the dirt and blasted off towards the house, as only a little boy could. A minute later he was back again. "It's not Nan and Pop, it's some lady talking to Mum."

  "Oh. Let's stay out here then," Cooper replied, wondering who it was. He didn't have to wonder long.

  "Coop!" Liz called from the kitchen. "You got a minute?"

  Cooper sighed. "Be right there!" he called, before turning back to Michael. "You keep on at these weeds, little man, otherwise we'll never get a winter crop in here."

  "Okay, Dad."

  Brushing the dirt off his boots, Cooper entered the kitchen to see a woman he couldn't place. "Hello," he said, extending an arm.

  "Coop, you remember Jackie Rose."

  Now he recognised her. She looked different, older, somehow. But then it had been two years since he'd seen her.

  "Of course. How are you, Jackie?"

  "I'm fine, thanks. I'm sorry to barge in on you, Liz did tell me you had plans today but I forgot."

  "It's only my folks coming for lunch, don't worry about it," said Liz. "Can we offer you a drink?"

  "No, I won't stay. I just called in to tell you about the group."

  "I suggested a therapy group for Jackie," Liz explained to Cooper. "It's for families of suicide victims."

  Cooper realised Liz was prompting him to remember that he was supposed to look into Jackie's son's suicide, but there was no need. He'd spent enough time reviewing the case last week to be pretty familiar with Jackie and Lachlan Rose.

  "How did it go?" he asked.

  "It was rough, I was just telling Liz. But there was something I actually wanted to talk to you about, if you've got a minute."

  Cooper nodded, and indicated the table where the three of them took seats. He glanced out to the garden — Patrick had joined Michael and the two of them were busy pulling weeds and dirt out of the garden — before turning his full attention back to Jackie.

  "Liz said last week you'd be able to have a look at my son's case for me. They ruled it a suicide, but I can't believe Lachlan would do something like that."

  Cooper stretched both arms out in front of him, not reaching for Jackie but reaching toward her in a gesture indicating that he'd done his best. "I spent a lot of time reviewing Lachlan's case, Jackie. I read the file, talked to the officers who investigated. There was nothing—"

  "Please, don't say it. Can I tell you about today?"

  Cooper folded his arms on the table. "Okay," he said, not sure where this was going.

  "I met a woman in the group. Her son's case sounds exactly like mine. He hung himself in the garage while no-one was home. He was sixteen, bright, everything to live for, no reason to take his own life. He lived in the same suburb as us."

  "Did he go to the same school as Lachlan?"

  "No, he went to Haberfield High. Lachlan went to Preston. But they're in the same area, Charlie. Doesn't that strike you as strange? Two boys from the same suburb both committing suicide within months of each other?"

  "Did the boys know each other?" asked Liz.

  Jackie shook her head. "Not to my knowledge, but then I didn't know a lot of the boys Lachlan was friends with. He was very popular, both at school and at football. I didn't get the chance to ask Jan whether Jamie played any sports."

  "Oh, Jackie," said Liz, taking the woman's hand. "What do you mean you didn't get the chance to ask? What did you say to this woman?"

  Jackie went on to explain that she may have upset Jan Brennan by implying that her son might not have taken his own life. Liz and Jackie continued talking, and Cooper excused himself to check on the boys.

  Was there something to this? Was teenage suicide that prevalent? Or did Jackie have a point? It was quite a coincidence. But then, Lachlan's case file had given him nothing to go on. There was simply no evidence it had been anything other than the tragedy it appeared to be. Suicide was heartbreaking for those left behind, especially when it concerned a young person. But it happened; it was a part of the world we lived in, a part of the world Cooper unfortunately came into contact with all too often. Sooner or later, Jackie Rose had to accept that.

  "How are you boys going out here?" He asked, noting there was now more dirt outside the garden bed than there was in it. A good deal of weeds had been removed though, so there was that.

  "We're doing good, Daddy," Michael answered. "But it's hard work, isn't it Patrick?" He signed to his brother as he said this.

  Patrick nodded vigorously.

  "Well how about a drink to quench that thirst, then?" Cooper said and signed back.

  "Yes please!" said Michael. Patrick continued nodding.

  "All right. Let's get you cleaned up first, though. Mummy will have a fit if you bring this much dirt into the house." As he brushed them down, Cooper couldn't help his mind from wandering back to the scene photos from Lachlan Rose's garage. The neighbour had cut the boy down, but the image of him lying there on the concrete floor with a noose around his neck was haunting. He hugged his own sons tight, and wondered how he'd ever cope if something happened to one of them.

  He herded the boys inside.

  "Does this Jan Brennan know you're talking to me about her son?" Cooper asked Jackie once he was back in the house. Liz was busy getting the boys a drink, but he could tell she still had one ear on the conversation.

  "No, not really. I'm not sure she coped very well with my suggestion."

  "Did you come right out and say you thought both boys had been murdered?" Cooper asked. He thought it was time to be direct.

  "Pretty much. She knew that's what I was getting at."

  Cooper nodded. The doorbell rang, and Liz went to answer it.

  "Like I said before, or at least started to say, I didn't find anything in your son's file…" Jackie was about to interrupt him, but he held up a hand to stop her. "I didn't find anything to indicate what you're saying could be true, or even possible. But I do agree this second case raises some questions, and I wouldn't be doing my job properly if I didn't check it out."

  In a reaction Cooper was completely unprepared for, Jackie threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you so much, Charlie!"

  "Calm down, I haven't promised anything yet." He peeled her off and stood her at arm's length, his eyes still wide with shock. "Lachlan and Jamie were both somebody else's case. The coincidence warrants a second look, but look is all I can do. You understand that, don't you?"

  "Yes, yes, I understand," Jackie replied, somewhat calmer now. Thankfully, because his mother and father-in-law had just ent
ered the room and were staring at the two of them. Liz's grin meant they'd probably all seen Jackie embrace him from the doorway. Liz would have to explain that one. "I'll get out of your hair," Jackie added, seeing Liz's parents for the first time. Michael and Patrick had seen them too, and came running over.

  "I'll walk you out," said Cooper.

  "Thanks again," said Jackie, as she headed for her car. "It means a lot that you're taking me seriously, Charlie."

  "No problem." As he watched her leave, Cooper wondered what he'd got himself into. Her reaction had seemed over the top, but what she just said made sense. All she wanted was someone to listen to her. She hadn't given up on her son, even though the rest of the world had. As a parent, how could he blame her?

  8

  Cooper made it to the morning briefing on Monday, not that there was anything interesting to start off the week. A shooting had gone down over the weekend, probably gang related. Munro had given it to Anderson and Baxter, who had history liaising with Gang Squad. There was nothing new for Cooper and Quinn, giving them the time they needed to look over Jamie Brennan's case. Cooper wasn't ready to take the coincidence to Munro yet, but he was happy to talk it over with his partner.

  "You think there could be something in it, boss?" asked Quinn once Cooper had given him the short version.

  "We won't know until we look. Can you pull up the file?"

  "Already doing it." Cooper was pretty handy at finding his way through the computer system, but Quinn being about fifteen years younger meant he was a lot faster. "Here it is, I'll send it over."

  Like they'd done the previous week with Lachlan Rose's file, the two spent the best part of the morning going through the detail of Jamie Brennan's suicide. And, like they found last week, there was nothing in there that indicated anything other than suicide.

  "Did you really expect to find something?" Quinn asked as they stood in line at the nearest cafe at lunch time.

  "I don't know, mate. It's a hell of a coincidence, don't you think?"

  "It seems like it, but then what do we know about teenage suicide? How common is it?"

  Cooper shrugged. Good question.

  Back at their desks he set about finding an answer, and it wasn't long before he'd uncovered some alarming statistics. As a homicide detective he'd certainly seen his fair share of people who'd ended their own lives, but during the course of a shift or a month or a year, even ten years, you go from case to case without really appreciating the scope of the problem. Attending the unnatural death of a person — whether by their own hand or someone else's — was a devastating thing that affected every police officer in some way. But you dealt with it, and there was always another one next week or next month. You lived moment to moment, without really seeing the cumulative effect.

  The statistics Cooper was now reading on his screen regarding suicide in Australia in general were frightening, with almost seven successful suicides per day among an estimated two hundred or more attempts. But the stories of young people taking their own lives due to depression and bullying were difficult to read. With no personal experience in this area, Cooper struggled to understand how life could get so difficult for a person that they'd want to end it.

  "Do you know anyone?" Cooper asked his partner.

  "Anyone who's killed themselves?"

  "Yeah."

  "There was a kid at my school," Quinn answered. "When I was in year eleven, so I guess I was sixteen. He was in the year above, doing the HSC."

  "You ever find out why?"

  "I didn't know him real well," Quinn said, leaning forward on his desk. "Kids talked, said it was pressure at home, not getting the marks he wanted. But I don't think that was it. Not all of it, anyway."

  "He get picked on?" Cooper asked, sensing there was more to the story.

  "Yeah. I came across it once, out in the back playground. A group of kids from his year had him pinned up against a tree. One of them was pulling stuff out of his bag, throwing it all over the fence so he'd have to go all the way around to get it. I was going to tell them to leave him alone, but he just looked at me this way, you know, like if I said anything I'd make it ten times worse."

  "So you didn't say anything?"

  "No, I just walked away. I meant to find him later, have a private chat, you know. But I never did, and two months later the kid was dead." Quinn reached around and scratched the back of his neck, sighed. "I wish I'd said something."

  "It wasn't your fault."

  "I know. It probably wouldn't have made a difference. But still, I think about that sometimes, you know? Wonder where that kid would be now, what he'd be doing. Probably be head of some department somewhere, making a fortune on the Internet, something like that. Who knows? Such a waste."

  Cooper nodded his agreement then went back to the screen. It was a lot to make sense of, and he needed help. He picked up his phone and searched for Max Christie's number. One of the country's leading forensic psychologists, Max was also a good friend of Cooper's.

  "What do you think?" Cooper asked, once he'd got the pleasantries out of the way and given Max a quick overview of the two cases.

  "It certainly is interesting, Charles. Can you send me a copy of their files?" Max was the only person in the world who could get away with calling Cooper Charles.

  "Sure. What specifically would you be looking for?"

  "I'd like to read transcripts of interviews with their families and peers. I'd also like to take a look at activity on their social media accounts, both before and after their deaths. I assume that was investigated?"

  "There're interviews with the parents in both cases, and peers only in the case of Lachlan Rose. Nothing much from social media, although I can have one of my techs take a look online."

  "Why weren't the peers interviewed in the Brennan case?" asked Max.

  "I don't know to be honest, Doc. They weren't my cases. But the evidence suggested at the time that they were both pretty straight-forward suicides. I guess the investigating officers decided there was no reason to go much further than Jamie Brennan's family."

  Cooper could almost feel the tension coming through the phone. "Suicide is an extremely troubling issue in this country, Charles. Suicide amongst young people, in particular. How are we ever going to help these children if we don't find out what's going wrong with them? Will there be inquests?"

  "Coroner ruled them both suicide, no inquest in either case." Cooper pictured Max sitting in his overstuffed office down in Melbourne, shaking his head. "I know, Doc. But look, I'm beginning to wonder if maybe these cases weren't suicide. Can you help me?"

  "Send me as much information as you can, and I'll be happy to take a look. But you'd better clear it with your Senior Sergeant first."

  "Always. Thanks, Doc." Cooper ended the call and looked up at Quinn, who'd heard every word of at least Cooper's side of the conversation.

  "So now you think there might be something to the mother's questions?"

  "If there is, I owe it to her to find out. Come on, let's go see Munro."

  They found the Senior Sergeant in charge of their homicide team in his office, surrounded by the piles of paperwork that always covered every inch of his desk.

  "Got a minute, Sarge?"

  Munro nodded and beckoned them in. Quinn moved a pile of paperwork from a chair to the floor and sat. Cooper remained standing.

  "We need to talk to you about a couple of recent cases," Cooper began. "Two teenage boys, both ruled suicides by the coroner. Both found hanging in their respective garages. We've no proof they knew each other, but they lived in the same suburb — Haberfield. One of the mothers is a family friend, she asked me to take a look. Refuses to believe her kid killed himself."

  "They never believe it," said Munro. "Go on."

  "I had a word with Max Christie, he's willing to take a look at peer interviews, social media accounts, all that stuff. Thing is, though, there were no peer interviews in one of the cases. Nothing in the files that says either of thei
r online activity was checked, either."

  "And you want to check it out?"

  Cooper shrugged, hoping to look more nonchalant about the cases than he felt. The more he spoke, the more his instinct told him there was something to this. "It couldn't hurt, Sarge. We're not that busy right now."

  "Do you have some kind of sixth sense or something?" asked Munro.

  "I'm not sure I follow you."

  Munro searched through his desk debris for a moment before coming up with a piece of paper. He handed it to Cooper. "This just came in. Teenage suicide in Ashfield. That's near Haberfield, isn't it?"

  Cooper's coincidence radar was suddenly on fire. "It's the next suburb over, Sarge."

  9

  Monday at the hospital dragged like never before. One hour felt like six, and by the time lunch had been and gone, Jackie felt like she'd been at work for an eternity.

  "You want to go check on Mr Gilbert?" asked Tim.

  "Haven't they admitted him yet?" Mr Gilbert had a large kidney stone that required surgery, and an even larger set of lungs that let everyone know how much pain he was in.

  Tim shook his head. "Still down here, unfortunately for us."

  "All right, I'll go." Jackie sighed. Dealing with distraught patients was what she did every day, and ordinarily she was very good at it. But today she was distracted. She couldn't help wondering how Charlie was getting on. Was he checking on Jamie Brennan's death? Or had he just been telling her what she wanted to hear? No, Charlie wasn't like that. If he said he'd check, he'd check.

  Once she'd settled Mr Gilbert down again, Jackie realised she was long overdue for a break. She let Tim know she'd be gone for fifteen minutes, and headed for the relative quiet and pleasant aromas of the coffee cart just outside the hospital doors. On the way she practically ran into Liz.

  "Shit, sorry," she said, before realising it was her friend. Her very upset friend, judging by the puffy red eyes staring back at her. "Hey, what's up?" She helped Liz pick up the file she'd accidentally knocked out of her hands.

  "Jackie, hi. Oh, it's nothing, really. Tough day."