Tallowwood

by N. R. Walker

  August frowned. “Do you believe the spirit is reborn?”

  “Culturally, my mob, my people believe the spirit is connected to our people but also to our land, and when we die, we transition through death into a new life, be it a person or part of our land. Personally, I like the idea that we’re never really gone, ya know? That we live on and belong to the place where our ancestors lived. And Mum finds it comforting that her brother is still around.”

  August closed his eyes and sighed. “I like that idea, too.”

  He said that with such a profound empathy, that Jake could feel how much he meant it, how much he wanted it to be true.

  A flight attendant came by and offered tea and coffee and a snack box that typically consisted of a piece of fruit, a cookie or cake, and a juice or water. August took his with a smile but handed it straight to Jake. “You don’t want yours?” Jake asked. He didn’t want to be rude, but he was hungry. He had made them both porridge for breakfast, but that was hours ago.

  August smiled. “Coffee’s fine for me. But you were up running early again, so you’ll need the fuel.”

  “You should’ve come with me,” Jake said, then opened the first box and bit into the small red apple.

  “Jeez, I could have,” August deadpanned. “But Scarlett insisted I stay in bed. And, the most important factor being, I didn’t want to.”

  Jake chuckled. “She’s such a traitor. I hope Dad gives her the wrong biscuits or something.”

  August smiled as he sipped his coffee. “You do not hope that. You adore her.”

  Another bite and the tiny apple was finished. He opened the cake. “You’ll have to come with me when I run in Sydney. I’ll get lost and that’d be embarrassing.” He inspected the cake. “Why would they put sultanas in cake? Whoever decided that was a good idea? Were they short on chocolate chips?”

  August laughed. “Not a fan?”

  Jake picked a sultana out and took a small bite of the cakey part. “Hell no.” He finished his snack box, then demolished August’s, and they were soon landing in Sydney. It was cold and overcast, and although August only had a carry-on, Jake couldn’t manage that and had to collect his bag from the carousel. They found August’s car, he paid the ridiculous parking charge, and soon they were heading out in traffic and on their way to HQ in Parramatta.

  Jake tried to quell his nerves, but he was excited too. It wasn’t every day a country cop got invited to the city—to HQ, no less—to help on what could turn out to be a high-profile case. This could be career-making stuff. Or career-breaking, depending on how it ended.

  August pulled the car into a car park that went down too many levels for Jake’s liking. “I’d rather we were back in the mountains surrounded by trees than under a gazillion tonnes of concrete.”

  August chuckled. “You get used to it.”

  “I’d rather not, thanks.”

  August pulled into his designated spot. “You ready?”

  “Not really.”

  He laughed. “Well, there’s really bad coffee in there with my name on it. And we have a lot of work to do.”

  With that, Jake got out of the car. He pulled on his coat, though it didn’t seem to help with the chill, and he walked side by side with August into the New South Wales Police Headquarters.

  Jake could feel August’s guard go up, as though he hunkered down on himself, to protect himself. When Nina Schneider had told him to call August Shaw, he’d remembered the name of course. But a quick search made August out to be an outsider within the ranks of the police force, a cliché detective who worked alone. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

  Yet Jake didn’t mind. He liked August. Not even just his striking blue-grey eyes or how they matched the silver in his beard. Jake liked the snippets of humour, the smirks and the rumble of laughter, and the way those little lines appeared at the corner of his eyes when he smiled. August didn’t show that side of himself often, but Jake liked it when he did. He had a quiet, always-thinking way about him, as though his mind was always ticking over. And there was that sadness that he seemed to wear around himself like an old coat.

  Though the more he got to know August, the more Jake could see that was more a defence mechanism. It wasn’t that August was a closed book, it was more that Jake simply needed the encryption code to be able to read him. And Jake wanted to know how to read him.

  He thought they had a connection. A spark of something. In the few days they’d known each other, they’d talked, laughed, had easy silences, and had bounced ideas off each other. And Jake could have sworn there’d been more than a few glances from August. A few looks that were curious and cautious, much like he’d found himself looking at him. And when his family and friends had embarrassed him last night, suggesting they were on a date, August wasn’t put off or mad. He’d said it was sweet.

  Granted, Jake didn’t date much, but he wasn’t stupid. Or blind. And it was so typical that August lived so far away. As far as he knew, August could have a boyfriend or a husband. Not all guys wore rings.

  Regardless, Jake was curious. And a little interested. And way, way out of his depth.

  But they walked through the building, and August led the way. It was crazy-busy. There were people everywhere. Probably a number equal to the entire population of Tallowwood worked in that building. Maybe more. Most didn’t even look up, but those who did stopped and stared.

  A few said hello to August or nodded in his direction. He replied with no more than a mumbled, somewhat-pleasant response. Jake could feel eyes on him. Some didn’t even attempt hiding it or their surprise. Some blatantly stared.

  Jake had stood on the outside many times. Being Aboriginal, being gay never made him super popular at school. Not that he cared what those close-minded fools thought, but these people were adults, his colleagues and peers. Fellow police officers who were supposed to stand for all people, from all walks of life, not stare at them.

  Christ.

  And when August had said his office was small, he wasn’t kidding. There was barely enough room for his desk, filing cabinets, and a chair on either side of the desk. It would be cosy, that was for sure.

  “Take a seat,” August said. He opened one filing cabinet and pulled out a pile of manila folders, putting them on the desk. “These are the ones I know about. I can tell you everything I know, but I’d rather you read through to see if I’ve missed anything or misinterpreted something.” He frowned and gave a bit of a shrug. “I’ll grab us a coffee and we can get started.”

  Jake did take a seat, and not the seat near the door. No, he took August’s seat behind the desk. He did it deliberately, for a few reasons: one, to see the look on August’s face, and two, to see how he reacted. And, if Jacob was being honest with himself, in hopes of seeing him smile.

  August came back carrying a coffee in each hand, took one look at Jake, and stopped. His lips parted in shock, then as he’d hoped, August began to smile. “You all right there?”

  “You said to take a seat.”

  “I didn’t mean mine.”

  Jake grinned. “Well, you got me coffee, I figured we were switching ranking officer roles.”

  His smile widened. “Get the fuck out of my chair.”

  Jake laughed and stood up, then edged around the desk. There wasn’t much room and August didn’t step back. They had to manoeuvre around each other, almost touching, their gazes locked and both trying not to smile too much. It was close, it was probably far too playful for work, but Jake couldn’t bring himself to care. Jake took a coffee from August, and August snatched it back and handed him the other one. “That’s mine. This one’s yours.”

  Jake kept eye contact and sipped. “Well, you were right. It’s awful.”

  August nodded and slid past his desk and sat in his seat. “The coffee or the office?”

  Jake looked around the small, cramped room. “The coffee. This office isn’t so bad. For a shoebox.”

  “Yeah, it means no one comes in here.
It’s part of the charm.”

  Jake pointed his chin to the computer that took up the far side of his desk. “You have a desktop and a laptop?”

  “Yeah, it means I can take work home with me. For nights and weekends, that kind of thing.”

  Jake didn’t think August was as happily reclusive as he made out to be, but he wasn’t about to say that to him. Instead, he sipped the godawful coffee again just as another officer walked past and basically did a slow walk-by gawk. “Why is everyone staring?” Jake whispered. “Have they never seen an Indigenous gay cop before?”

  August smiled behind his coffee cup. “It’s not you they’re staring at, it’s me.” Then he made a face. “Well, okay, maybe they are staring at you a bit, trying to figure out why you’re here with me. Because believe me, the reason they’re staring is because you’re here with me.”

  “Why? What’s up with that?”

  “I, uh, don’t work with anyone. Actually, I don’t really speak with anyone.”

  “Yeah, but you get shit done,” Jake added. “You’re the Detective Shaw. How many cases have they solved single-handedly?”

  “I don’t know why you think I’m anything special,” August said quietly. “To you, I’m the Detective Shaw. To those guys out there, I’m the weird detective, the quiet one, the one to avoid. I don’t exactly have friends in the force.” He swallowed hard. “Or in the forensics lab. Actually, I don’t have friends outside of the force either.”

  “I never signed up to the police force for the friendships either,” Jake added. “I mean, for one, I’m Aboriginal. And two, I’m gay. And three, not to blow my own trumpet or anything, but I’m usually smarter and better at my job than most other cops, so there’s a whole bunch of reasons why I’m not over-popular with them.”

  “Once they get to know you, they like you,” August said. “I saw how the cops from Coffs were with you. Usually, once people know me a little better, it just confirms that they were right. I am weird and quiet and generally an arsehole.”

  “No you’re not.”

  August made a face. “I’ll give you some time. You’ll come around.”

  Jake laughed. “They just don’t understand what drives you.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe they don’t care. Or maybe I don’t want them to know.”

  “What did you say to me the other day? That you and I aren’t too dissimilar. And anyway, Scarlett liked you, that’s all I need to know.”

  August smiled at that. “Glad I passed the feline-appraisal test.”

  “She’s a harsh critic. If you think the judges on Drag Race or Project Runway are tough, they’ve got nothing on Scarlett.”

  August squinted a little. “On drag what?”

  Jake sighed. “Never mind.” He pulled the first file around to face him. “We should get started.”

  August took a fresh notepad and pen from his drawer and slid them toward Jacob. “For notes or whatever. The files are in chronological order, earliest to latest. Not including your two. From what we know so far, Perry Ahern was the ninth victim.”

  He opened the first file. David Milsec. Attached was a photo of the guy. It looked like an employee photograph or a passport photo. But then also attached were the crime scene photos, and more notably, the body.

  “Oh.”

  August shot him a look, trading in squinting at his computer screen to give him a serious expression. “What is it?”

  “Oh nothing. I just wasn’t expecting a body. I don’t know why. I was expecting to see human remains or a skeletal layout on a slab in the morgue.”

  “These casefiles are all bodies. Sorry, I should have forewarned you.”

  “No, it’s okay.” But Jake felt bad for joking a moment earlier and for entertaining the idea of getting to know August better when he was here to do his job. He was here to help solve homicide cases, long-forgotten cold cases. He wasn’t here to play. The photograph of a dead man sitting upright against a tree, staring blankly ahead, was a swift reminder.

  So he put his head down, his mind to task, and started reading and making notes. August had requested more information from missing persons, but Jacob was doubtful they’d hear anything. Not any time soon, anyway. He’d also checked some databases on possible leads for the two friends that had been out with Perry Ahern the night he was killed and had two phone numbers. One was no longer connected, and he left a message on the other.

  He put the desk phone back in the cradle and stretched his arms above his head. “Another dead end.” Then he nodded to Jake’s notepad. “What have you got so far?”

  “Well, not much. But I can’t help think—” He frowned at the files, at his notes. “My two cases are human remains only, but yours weren’t.”

  “These were city-based. The bodies were found within twenty-four and thirty-six hours from time of death.”

  “And the toxicology reports showed nothing,” Jake noted.

  August nodded. “Toxicology has changed a lot in the last few years. Fifteen, ten, even five years ago, testing wasn’t half what it is now.”

  “Yeah, I get that. Fifteen years ago, they needed an entire blood-soaked shirt to get a result. Now they can detect trace elements on half a pinhead.”

  “I’ve asked for retesting. Two or three years ago.”

  “And?”

  “Evidence is limited or non-existent now.”

  “On all of them? We only need one. One thing from one victim, and maybe it might shine a new light.”

  “On what exactly?”

  “Toxicology.” Jake tapped the file of David Milsec, and the more he thought of it, the more convinced he was that he was right. “These victims had no ligature marks, no marks of any kind. They weren’t restrained, they weren’t gagged. They were complicit, given there were no drag marks or disturbed surroundings, there was no struggle.”

  “Like Rohypnol? We tested for that. But it used to be untraceable after twenty-four hours.”

  “In a living body where the kidneys and liver dispose of it. Not in a dead body.”

  “We tested for all kinds of things. Believe me, I had Nina and Bartlett test for everything.”

  “Can we check evidence archives? If there’s anything left, we can test again. We can detect so much more these days. There could even be DNA that wasn’t traceable five years ago.”

  August appeared to give that some thought. “It certainly couldn’t hurt.”

  “Really?” Jake asked, a little shocked. “I thought for sure you’d say no.”

  August smiled at that. “I’m not the one who’ll say no. I have to get the nod from up the ladder first though.”

  “Hmm,” Jake shook his head. “I get the feeling arse-kissing isn’t high on your list.”

  “Depends whose arse,” August replied with a smirk.

  Jake laughed just as a figure filled the doorway. He was a big guy, in his sixties, with grey hair and a hard jaw. Jacob didn’t know his face, but he knew what the stars on his shoulder meant. He stood and extended his hand. “Jacob Porter, sir.”

  “Assistant Commissioner Reinhart.” He glanced at August, somewhat concerned. “Everything all right, Shaw?”

  August’s frown was back. “Yes, sir.”

  “Just don’t recall seeing you . . . smile before,” Reinhart said.

  “Yeah, thanks,” August said. “Porter here is the guy I was telling you about. He’s come down from Coffs Harbour to confirm some findings.”

  Reinhart turned to Jake. “Those two cases of yours match Shaw’s?”

  Jake looked him right in the eye. “It appears so, yes, sir. Though I’ve only had a chance to briefly look over these other files, I believe there’s cause for further inquiry. And with your permission, sir, I’d like to request some more testing done.”

  Reinhart looked straight at August. “You put him up to this?”

  August raised both his hands, palm forward. “That’s not likely—”

  “With all due respect, sir,” Jake said over
August. “While I respect Detective Shaw’s work—and he has done some great work—alongside his ability to piece together chain of evidence, I’m also capable of drawing my own conclusions. These cases are related, and they were, without doubt, not self-inflicted injuries.”

  Reinhart blinked, and August sighed. “As I was saying, boss, it’s not likely I could put him up to anything. But thanks for thinking I could.”

  Reinhart turned back to Jacob, and Jacob held his gaze for a long awkward moment. “Mmm,” Reinhart said. “I like you, kid.”

  Jake grinned. “So, is that a yes on the request for additional testing?”

  Reinhart grumbled, turning his glare to August. “See that the paperwork lands on my desk before five.” He turned and disappeared down the hall.

  August turned to Jake; his voice was a harsh whisper. “I can’t believe you just did that. You just hit up the Assistant Commissioner of the state Police Headquarters with ‘all due respect sir, I can draw my own conclusions’ and you still have your badge. And not only that, he said he likes you.”

  Jake laughed. “It’s a gift.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “It just cut down some time, that’s all. Putting in formal requests is just time and paperwork. The end result would have been the same. It’s just quicker to ask for what you want.”

  “And that bloody smile of yours doesn’t do you a disservice either, let me tell ya. Is there one person on the planet who doesn’t like you?”

  Jake laughed. “My year seven maths teacher, Mrs Morrison. She hated me. And what’s wrong with my smile?”

  “Nothing. That’s the problem. You flash that grin and get whatever you want.”

  “Not everything.”

  “I don’t want to know what that qualifier is. And what did you do to Mrs Morrison?”

  Jake chuckled. “Absolutely nothing. I was a model student.”

  August studied him for a second. “Has anyone ever told you that you blush when you lie?”