Cooper's eyes widened; another thing he didn't know about his partner. "What else can you tell us, then?"
"Not much. He was a good shot, if there was only one. He was probably three to five hundred metres away. I had a quick look around the buildings when we were out there yesterday, he had a few good spots to choose from."
"Right. We'll talk later." Cooper turned his attention back to Flynn Anderson. "Anything from the media footage?"
"We've had people spend the night going through it all, nothing yet. But they're not done. Those guys take a lot of pictures and video."
"So Morris has been dead almost twenty-four hours, and we've pretty much got nothing to go on. Is that right?"
"Yep."
Cooper sighed. A series of teenage suicides turn out to be murder, and now there's a sniper in the mix? What the fuck was going on?
"How do you want to work this?" asked Flynn.
Saunders stepped in before Cooper could say anything. "We work them separately. Cooper, you and Quinn stay on the hanging murders. Anderson and Baxter can continue to cover Morris's homicide."
"But they're related, Sarge. Jensen Morris was Michelle Medler's cousin. He was killed at her funeral."
"Yes, but we don't know that that's not a coincidence. There's nothing else to suggest a relationship between this murder and the hangings, and the MO was obviously very different. Work them separately, but keep each other informed. If you come up with a connection, we'll revisit. Cooper, where are you at with these hangings?"
Cooper struggled to believe his ears. He didn't believe in coincidences, not in homicide. No such thing. These cases were related, he knew they were. Saunders was still a prick, then.
"We interviewed the football coach yesterday. He's definitely got a connection with all three kids, but there's no motive. The two boys he was trying to recruit for his football team, why would he kill them? And he didn't recognise Michelle Medler's name until we told him his daughter tutored her. It seemed genuine. He's no saint, there's probably something going on in that locker room, I'm guessing performance enhancing drugs, but he didn't seem capable of murder."
"None of them do. Keep on him, find a motive. Anything else?"
"We're still following up on the toy butterfly thing. Plus we want to interview Lachlan Rose's brother, and his friend. And I need to talk to Max, find out what he thinks now that he's had a chance to go through the victims' online presences."
"Good. Keep going. I don't need to tell you all how much trouble we're in as far as public image goes. You've all seen the papers by now. Let's get out there and do our jobs, prove them wrong."
That's as close as Saunders is ever going to get to a pep talk. Cooper missed Munro, and briefly wondered how the Sarge was doing. Fucking cancer. He caught up with Quinn as they walked back to their desks.
"Sniper training?"
"Army Reserves, boss. Bring out your best, and all that. I did a couple of years while I was at uni, and a couple after. Only pulled out once I joined you here in Homicide. Figured I'd have enough going on."
Cooper was impressed. "So you reckon you could find the sniper's nest? That's what they call it, right? Where he shot from? A nest?"
Quinn shrugged. "I could tell you where I would have taken the shot if I were him."
"Good enough. Let's get back out there."
"I thought Saunders said to leave the shooting to Anderson and Baxter?"
"Since when do I listen to Saunders?"
28
Ethan and Emma's fighting woke Jackie, but it took her a moment to realise it was Sunday, and they were supposed to be with their father. What were they doing here? What time was it? She turned her head to look at the clock and it roared back at her, not appreciating being moved. It all came back, the website searches well after midnight, the one bottle of wine that finished way too early, the second bottle she'd opened just to have one more glass. She hadn't polished off two bottles on her own again, had she?
"It's mine!" Emma shrieked from the hallway.
"Is not." Ethan's gruff reply.
"Is too!"
There was no way she was equipped to deal with this right now. What were they doing here?
Jackie dragged herself off the bed and wrapped herself in her big fluffy dressing gown, a rare, thoughtful gift from Marcus once upon a time. It was fraying a bit these days, but she still loved to snuggle into it.
"What's going on?" she asked from the doorway to her bedroom.
"Ethan won't let me have his old iPod. Dad said I could have it, but he won't give it to me."
"It's got personal stuff on it still. I need to clean it up first."
Jackie held up a hand. "I don't care what you're fighting about. Dad can handle it. I mean what are you doing here? It's Sunday morning. Early."
Marcus appeared at the end of the hall. "It's ten o'clock, Jackie. It's not early. Emma wanted her blue dress with the characters from that movie, what's it called? The one with all the snow."
"Frozen."
"Yes, Frozen. She wanted that dress, so I said we'd call in and get it on our way. I tried to ring, but you didn't answer, then you didn't answer the door, so I figured you must be out."
Jackie waited for the sorry she felt should have been on the end of that statement, but as usual it never came. Marcus didn't think invading her privacy like this was an issue, and she wasn't in the mood to argue with him again.
"That dress is dirty. It got tomato sauce all over it the other day. I haven't had a chance to wash it, otherwise I would have sent it with her yesterday." Jackie watched as Emma's face went from happy to sad in front of her. She was too old for this. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I told you I'd wash it this weekend so you can wear it next week."
"I thought you might have washed it yesterday," Emma sulked.
Marcus wandered into the kitchen, and Jackie followed him, apologising to Emma along the way. Nothing she said made the little girl feel any better, though. A good mother would have washed the dress straight away, of course.
She placated Emma with a hug, then followed her ex-husband's line of sight to the two empty red wine bottles on the counter, and the single glass in the sink. She had to admit, it didn't paint a very good picture. But for fuck's sake, she was a grown woman. She had no responsibility for the children this weekend, she was entitled to spend her time how she chose. Anyway, it was his fault. He was the one threatening to move across the country, taking her children away from her. He was the one making her stay up researching custody disputes into the early hours of the morning. She couldn't very well do that while the kids were here with her. Emma might not notice, but Ethan would be all over it.
Marcus opened his mouth, but she stopped him with a look and a raised hand. "My time is my time, Marcus. Don't start."
He shrugged, didn't need to say anything, really. She knew what he thought, and figured he'd store it all up and use it in court if he had to. He'd probably try and prove she was an alcoholic, or something. Wasn't she entitled to a few drinks, after all she'd been through? Was still going through?
"Where are you going today?" she asked, trying to change the unspoken subject.
"A barbecue with some of Charlotte's friends," said Marcus. "She's waiting in the car, we'd better go."
"All right." Jackie gave Emma a hug. "Sorry about the dress, sweetheart. I'll get it done today for you. It will be nice and clean by the time you get back here tonight."
Emma relented and tried to smile, but she was still upset. Ethan walked past her out the front door without a word of goodbye. Jackie felt as far from mother of the year as you could possibly get.
Once they were gone she took some aspirin and plonked herself on the couch. She'd told Marcus many times that Charlotte was welcome to come inside, she didn't have to sit in the car. She hadn't been happy about the relationship at first, of course. Why was it that men seemed to jump so easily out of one relationship and into another? It seemed they'd barely decided to split before Charlotte wa
s on the scene. But once they were married, there was no point fighting it. And now, especially with the baby on the way, she wished the woman would just suck it up and come inside. But no, she always sat out in the car if she was with Marcus when he picked up or dropped off the kids.
She wasn't that hard to get on with, was she? She was welcoming. At least she thought she was. Maybe there were a few times early on when she might have been a little short with Charlotte, but, hey, it's hard to let your kids go and stay with a complete stranger. But the kids came back with no complaints, so that was good enough for Jackie. Charlotte was polite to Jackie, of course. She couldn't say the woman was a bitch or nasty or anything like that. She was always cordial, sociable even, but there was always a distance Jackie could never quite cross.
Jackie started to wonder just how long this potential move to Perth had been on the cards. She knew Charlotte had family over there, a brother, maybe, or was it sister and brother-in-law? Whoever, was it possible this had been planned from the start? Did Marcus's firm initiate the transfer, or did he suggest it? If he initiated it at Charlotte's request, what did that mean for custody? Did it mean anything? From what she'd learned last night, not really. It was like Simon had said, the court would try and do what's in the best interests of the children. The fact that Marcus was choosing to move away didn't count for much. It was what happened next that was important.
Marcus and Charlotte could give Ethan and Emma a fresh start. They were married; they had a baby on the way. That brother or sister was going to live in Perth. Over there, Marcus could provide a complete family. What could she provide them here? A murder investigation, media attention, constant reminders of the brother they'd lost. And a mother who's bordering on alcoholic and forgets to pick up her own daughter from school.
Maybe they'd be better off without her.
29
Being a Sunday, Rookwood Necropolis was busy. Cooper drove slowly around to the crime scene, which was still taped off, and Quinn got out and moved a crowd of people out of the way so they could park. Rather than disperse at the sight of the detectives, the crowd swelled and seemed to get more interested in the death of the young rapist. There were still a couple of reporters and cameramen hanging around, and they started filming Cooper and Quinn.
"Can you tell us anything more about the sniper attack?" one of them asked, sticking a microphone in Cooper's face. Cooper pushed it away with a loud "No comment", and looked around to Quinn who took the hint and used his bulk to muscle the press out of the way.
"We can't comment on an ongoing investigation," Quinn said, and Cooper was surprised at the authority in his partner's voice. "Please let us do our jobs, and be mindful of where you are. There are a lot of grieving people out here today."
They both ducked under the crime scene tape, if only to get themselves out of earshot.
"So what do you think?" Cooper asked.
Quinn positioned himself as close as possible to where the body fell, and looked around. Cooper followed his line of sight to two apartment buildings about four hundred metres away across a busy road.
"That one," Quinn finally said, pointing to the higher of the two.
"Why that one?"
"They both have a good line of sight, but that one has the best angle to this spot. Providing it's got a good place to hide, like a stairwell with windows or something, I think that's the one."
"All right, let's go have a look."
They left the car where it was and walked across to the grey brick building. Cooper let his partner lead, and all the way Quinn was stopping, turning, thinking, and looking for all the world like a character from an action movie. Cooper couldn't help but smile; the kid was full of surprises.
For a Sunday, there weren't very many cars in the car park. Places like these were mostly deserted on weekdays, but weekends you could usually find people at home.
"There's no-one around," said Quinn, noticing the same thing.
"Do you think that helped our guy choose his spot?"
"Wouldn't have hurt, if it was the same yesterday. Sometimes a crowded place is better, less chance of you being singled out among the faceless many, but it's hard to conceal a rifle in a suburban apartment block. Yeah, he would have liked the quiet here." Quinn opened the front door, and Cooper took note of the fact that it wasn't a secure building. Anyone could access the common areas.
It was about three quarters of the way up that Quinn found the spot. At least, this was the spot he would have taken the shot from. There was no evidence left behind, so no way they could be sure, but Quinn's gut feeling was apparently strong. He spent a good half an hour going up and down the stairs, trying to access the roof without any luck, and settling in each of the windows of the stairwell to assess its potential. He finally settled on the window halfway between the fourth and fifth floors.
"What makes you so sure?" asked Cooper, when Quinn had finally made up his mind that this was the spot.
"Best line of sight. You want to get high, but go any higher in this building and that tree canopy is in the way. Any lower, and you're too low. And we've been here for half an hour, boss, and we haven't seen a soul. It's the perfect spot."
"So how would he have known that no-one would be around to catch him?"
Quinn looked around, and Cooper followed his line of sight. "No doors open directly onto the spot," said Quinn. "The sniper would have a keen ear. He would have had a plan in place to conceal the weapon quickly if he heard anyone coming."
"He would only have had seconds, though."
"Seconds would be all he needed. This guy was thorough. He would have done his research, scoped out his spot before the funeral. Perhaps days before. He would have known there wasn't much foot traffic, minimal chance of being disturbed."
"Which also means he would have had to know where the funeral was going to be. He somehow found out where Michelle Medler was going to be buried, and he knew Jensen Morris would be attending."
"How would you find out where someone was going to be buried?" Quinn asked.
Cooper scratched his head. "Good question. Something like that would be known to a lot of people before the funeral, right? I mean the cemetery must plan where they're going to put everyone days in advance. The people running the funeral would have to know. The hearse has to know where to show up. So does the family, for that matter. Rookwood is a big place, you can't just tell people 'The funeral's going to be at Rookwood.' You'd have to provide a more exact location."
"So family and friends, really anyone who wants to attend the funeral knows beforehand where it's going to be. It must be common knowledge, in other words."
"That's right," Cooper replied, disheartened. He thought they were onto something there. But at least it was something for Anderson and Baxter to follow up. "Let's give Meg and Flynn your ideas on this location, they can check it out more thoroughly. Interview the residents here, if they can find any. If no-one saw anything yesterday, maybe someone saw a stranger looking around in the days leading up to the funeral."
"You don't want to knock on these doors while we're here?"
"No. Better leave that to the others. I don't want to give Saunders an excuse to get up my arse."
"Ok." Quinn started typing on his phone as he headed back down the stairs. "What are we going to do now?"
"We'll go back to the office and see what we can find out about our football coach, Rod Kelsey. I don't think we're done with him yet. And I need to call Liz."
* * *
Cooper and Quinn planned to spend the rest of Sunday afternoon in front of their computer screens, digging up as much information as they could about Kelsey. But Cooper was struggling to concentrate, his mind kept wandering home to his family, who had yet again spent most of the weekend without him. Liz had been okay on the phone, telling him to do what he had to do. She was still recovering from yesterday's migraine, so she'd called in sick to work herself, and her mother was at the house helping to look after the boys. An idea sudden
ly struck him.
"You okay to continue with this yourself, Joe? I think there's somewhere more important I need to be right now."
"Sure, boss. I'm better at this stuff than you anyway, no offence."
"None taken," Cooper replied, but clipped him gently across the back of the head anyway. He grabbed his coat and the rest of his belongings and rushed out of the almost deserted office.
Jackie Rose had intimated that she was worried about Liz, about the amount of painkillers she seemed to be taking. If he was honest with himself, Cooper was worried too. He'd noticed, but he kept telling himself she was a doctor, she knew what she was doing. Her migraines were infrequent, thank goodness, but she did suffer a lot of ordinary headaches that she seemed to have no trouble popping pills for. Maybe it was time to have a chat about it.
Cooper called ahead and spoke to Ann, Liz's mother. Ann was happy to look after the boys for a while so Cooper could get Liz out of the house.
"She needs something, Charlie. She keeps saying she doesn't get to spend much time with the boys, but then she takes on extra shifts at the hospital. She says she can't get out of it, but I'm beginning to wonder. Something's not right with her. See if you can find out what's going on, can you?"
"I'll do my best, Ann. I'm just about there. What's she doing right now?"
"She's out the back, bringing the washing off the line, I think. The boys are playing out there."
"Can you send her out? I don't want the boys to see me, they'll get upset if I turn up and then we both go straight out again. I don't want to do that to you."
Ann agreed, and Cooper waited in the car for a couple of minutes before Liz came out and leant down to talk to him through his open window.
"What's going on, Coop? Why aren't you coming in?"
"I will, but first we need to talk. Get in."
"Talk about what? I'm in the middle—"
"Would you just get in the car, please? It won't take long."
The Dark Series Page 80