Evidence of Love

by Elisabeth Rose

  ‘Don’t rush on my account. I’ve brought my book and my crossword and I’m all set.’

  ‘What if I don’t recognise him? I still can’t remember that night clearly.’

  ‘But you’re remembering more and more,’ said Lara.

  ‘Seeing him might jog something loose,’ said Ellie.

  ‘But you mustn’t say you know him if you don’t,’ warned Lara which was exactly what Nick said to Brooke when half an hour later he showed them into a room with a two-way mirror.

  Brooke clutched Lara’s hand so tightly her fingers were in danger of going dead. All the way over in the car Brooke had fidgeted, twisted her fingers together, crossed and uncrossed her legs. Walking up the steps to the station door had taken immense courage. The possibility of seeing her attacker even through one-way glass was terrifying. Lara knew that fear. She’d lived with it on a daily basis, never knowing when the spark would ignite.

  Nick stood on Brooke’s other side, impassive. He’d barely acknowledged Lara beyond what was civil and she, taking his cue acted the same way. Polite but impersonal despite the heart-stopping surge of attraction when he strode to meet them in the foyer of the police station. To her, an earthquake had tilted the floor in waves as she came through the door but he didn’t appear to notice and neither did anyone else. He nodded to her with that tiny weary twitch of a smile then turned to the nerve-wracked girl by her side. With Brooke he was gentle and kind, asking how she was doing, telling her she looked well, reassuring her the men wouldn’t know who was behind the glass and couldn’t see her, that all she had to do was say if she recognised the man who attacked her.

  He led them through a maze of corridors and upstairs to a light grey painted room. Two other people joined them. A female detective stood behind Brooke, and an overweight man in a suit observed from the corner with a face like a bad-tempered bulldog and a rasping way of breathing. Probably a lawyer for the creep in the line-up.

  Six men filed into the room on the other side of the glass. To Lara they all looked unremarkable and similar. None stood out as a woman-bashing coward, but then men who beat their wives and girlfriends were always ordinary on the outside. It was the black stain on the inside that was invisible to everyone but the target.

  Brown hair, similar height, solid build, mid thirties, clean-shaven. On closer examination, one had clear blue eyes; the others were nondescript. One was slightly shorter than the rest, one had bowed legs in worn blue jeans.

  ‘Take your time, Brooke,’ said Nick. ‘If you don’t remember, that’s all right.’

  Lara eased her fingers from Brooke’s grasp and tucked her arm around the girl’s waist for a quick hug. She was shaking, breath coming fast and shallow, eyes fixed on one of the men.

  ‘That one,’ she raised a trembling hand. ‘I know him.’

  ‘Which one?’ Nick’s voice was calm but he must be pleased by the result, by her certainty. One of the nondescript men. Not Blue Eyes, not Bow Legs. Lara stared at the face. He looked unconcerned, arrogant, but he must know his run was finished.

  ‘Second from the left, number five. It’s him. I know it is.’ She shuddered as tears began rolling down the still-bruised discoloured cheeks. ‘I remember now. I remember everything.’ Her voice hardened and she swiped the tears away. ‘His name’s Keith.’

  ‘Where and when do you remember seeing him?’ His voice gave nothing away but Nick must be delighted. Unless Keith wasn’t their suspect.

  ‘I met him in a bar the night I was…I was attacked,’ she gasped. Lara steadied her with a hand on the arm but words tumbled out. ‘I had a date. Someone from the internet dating site but he was really late and I was about to leave but then this man… He bought me a drink and then he invited me to have dinner with him. He said would I mind just stopping by his place quickly first because he’d left his phone behind… It’s him.’ Her certainty was indisputable.

  She opened her mouth to continue but Nick said, ‘All right. Thanks, Brooke. I’d like you to make a statement — if you’d go with Marie, please?’

  ‘Well done,’ murmured Lara and was rewarded with a watery smile.

  ‘It’s him, I know it is.’

  The fit looking female detective led Brooke out of the room. Lara followed but Nick caught her outside the door and said, ‘You’ll have to wait for her, Lara.’

  The other man pushed through from behind them and growled, ‘Recognising my client proves nothing, detective.’

  ‘We’ll have to see what else she remembers before we decide that, won’t we?’ Nick offered a thin smile which wasn’t returned. The lawyer huffed and puffed and waddled his way along the corridor clutching a briefcase.

  ‘How long will she be?’

  ‘Could be quite a while depending on how much she remembers. We’ll need to go over the whole night in detail. I want to nail this bloke.’ His jaw tightened.

  Lara nodded. ‘I’ll have to go. Ellie’s minding Petey. I said we wouldn’t be long.’

  He caught her eye briefly then glanced over her shoulder. ‘Brooke will be fine. We’ll send her home in a car.’ He nodded and raised his hand in dismissive acknowledgement of an unseen person behind her.

  ‘All right. Will you tell her why I’ve gone?’ She began to move away. He was busy, she had to go home. She wanted to linger but there was no reason, nothing more to say. She may never see him again. Suddenly this case was over as far as she and the police were concerned. Brooke too, for that matter, unless she had to go to court later and give evidence.

  ‘Of course.’ That tiny smile appeared, the one that looked unused.

  She couldn’t raise a smile of her own. ‘Well, I’ll be going. Goodbye.’

  He hesitated, didn’t turn away, didn’t say goodbye. She paused, waiting for something. Anything.

  ‘Got time for a coffee?’

  Why did the thought occur, painfully, that he had an ulterior motive? His delivery was casual, too casual. Police casual. Could we have a moment of your time, please? We’d like to ask you a few questions. Help us with our enquiries.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why not?’ He regarded her steadily. ‘I like your company.’

  ‘Is that all?’ If only it was all. He’d said it once before. If only it were true.

  ‘Isn’t that enough?’

  ‘I thought…’ She edged aside so a uniformed constable could pass. The rest of that sentence was a confused mess of words scrambling around in her head. Words like suspicion, brother and you don’t trust me and why didn’t you tell me? All mixed up with desire and disappointment and the overwhelming attraction she felt for this man who was completely wrong for her.

  ‘Come on.’ Nick headed off down the corridor and she had no choice but to follow. He took her out of the police station into the heat, across the baking road and round the corner to an almost empty, blissfully cool, quiet coffee shop. He stopped at the counter.

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Iced coffee please.’

  Nick ordered and paid then sat at a table at the back of the room. She faced him, nervous as Brooke had been on the way in to the station. What was this about? Not her charms, that’s for sure despite his casual comment.

  ‘Maja Djokovic,’ he said.

  Why bring that up? She picked up her purse ready to push her chair back and stand up, walk out, but he snaked out a hand and placed it on hers with a heavy warmth which tingled up her arm. She could’ve pulled away easily but she didn’t and he didn’t move his hand.

  ‘I know why you changed your name,’ he said. The implication was obvious. He knew who John really was. The police wouldn’t have had much trouble finding that out, given Nick already knew her last name. How many Djokovic’s were in hospital during the last week? A quick run through the databases and hey presto — all the dirty family business on display. One tiny step and he’d know who she’d married, who had used her as a punching bag. Wondered why she married a man like that, why she stayed.

  She slid her fingers f
rom under his but said nothing. The energy drained from her body and she couldn’t have stood up if she’d tried. The pulse pounding in her ears sounded like feet stomping any last remaining shreds of hope of a relationship with this man into the ground.

  He was in cop mode. Face it. They always were.

  ‘What did your brother want with Brooke?’

  ‘She said he was nice to her and wanted to say hello.’ She met his gaze. Prove otherwise, she wanted to hiss.

  ‘Why?’ Not a good enough reply, she knew it wouldn’t be.

  The waitress placed their drinks before them and went away.

  ‘He wanted to find me. He’s my brother.’

  ‘And did he find you?’

  She nodded but her chin came up a defiant notch. ‘What’s that got to do with you?’

  Nick dropped his gaze to his hands. He stretched his fingers wide and leaned back in the chair. ‘You were very frightened at the hospital. Terrified.’ His eyes returned to hers, intense and hypnotic. ‘I want you to be safe. All three of you in that house of yours.’

  Strangely, she believed him. ‘My brother won’t harm me. Or Brooke.’ Some of the tension ebbed away.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you’ve spoken to him. Recently?’

  ‘He called yesterday,’ she admitted. He nodded as though she was confirming something he already knew.

  ‘What’s he doing in Sydney, Lara? I thought Melbourne was his territory.’

  ‘It was but after…’ How much did he really know or was she supplying information? Remember, he’s an expert at this. Don’t talk to the cops. Keep your mouth shut.

  ‘After your husband was murdered,’ he supplied. He picked up his coffee and drank, replaced the cup precisely on the saucer. ‘Your husband Tony Petrovic.’

  ‘Yes.’ She spat the admission out. What was the point of hiding it. He’d know everything as soon as he checked on Ivan Djokovic. ‘Yes, after my husband Tony Petrovic was stabbed it was a free for all. I ran with my baby and so apparently did Ivan, later. After our father was killed, he’d had enough. He’s married now,’ she added.

  ‘And you believe him?’

  ‘That he’s married? Why not?’

  Nick just stared at her. ‘That he’d had enough. How do you know he hasn’t shifted his operation here instead?’

  The answer to that was she didn’t know, but she wasn’t admitting anything. If he thought he could pump her for information about her brother he could think again. Right now she had iced coffee to tend to. She stabbed the long handled spoon into the ice-cream on the top and scooped out a mouthful. Heaven. Creamy and cold. Perfect on such a sticky afternoon. Nick watched silently. She swallowed, eyes half closed as the sweet coolness slipped down her throat. And she didn’t have to share it with a clamouring little boy.

  ‘Hot day,’ he said.

  ‘There’s a storm coming later they say.’ She sucked chilled liquid through the straw. Very good iced coffee in this place. Such a treat.

  ‘Not surprising. Enjoying that?’

  Her head whipped up in surprise. ‘Yes, it’s delicious. Why?’

  The smile lit his eyes this time. ‘I can tell.’

  Her heart thumped and thudded and her own smile forced its way past the layers of suspicion and doubt. ‘I haven’t had an iced coffee all to myself for ages.’

  ‘Too sweet for me.’

  ‘I’ll have to run in the morning.’ She pulled a face but took another long suck on the straw. ‘I can go by myself with Brooke at home to mind Petey. It’s quite handy. He likes her…’

  Nick cut in. ‘Lara, you don’t need to run. You don’t need to worry, your body is…’ He stopped. She waited, ran her tongue around her lips, finding tiny blobs of ice-cream and cream.

  He swallowed and groped for his coffee, fumbling so it nearly spilled.

  She sat barely breathing. What was he saying? Trying to say?

  ‘My body is what?’ Had she asked that aloud? Had he heard?

  Nick’s eyes locked on hers. ‘Perfect,’ he whispered.

  He stood up abruptly. Lara stayed put, bewildered, stunned. Was he leaving? What had she said? Suddenly he was beside her leaning down, cradling her face between his palms. Lips landed on hers. Soft and warm, tasting of coffee. A sigh escaped, her eyes closed. Somehow her arms found his neck and wrapped themselves around it pulling him close. He drew her up from her seat and against his body while his mouth explored hers.

  Then it was over. He released her slowly, drawing away. One hand caressed her cheek briefly and touched her lips light as a butterfly. ‘I’d better go,’ he said.

  Lara nodded, dumbstruck. Tingling from head to toe.

  ‘You’re so beautiful.’

  ‘I…’

  ‘Stay and finish your drink.’ He dropped a feather kiss on her lips. ‘Can I call, see you later?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Goodbye.’

  ‘Bye.’

  He turned and without a backward glance threaded his way between the tables and out the door. Lara subsided onto the chair mainly because her legs gave way. Were there witnesses to that extraordinary event? She risked a surreptitious glance around the café. Only one other couple at the other end near the door, elderly and engrossed in newspapers, the waitress had disappeared. No-one had seen her kissing a policeman. Kissing Nick.

  Beautiful. Perfect. He’d said those things about her. To kiss her in public must mean something. She scraped absentmindedly at the remnants of ice-cream pooling in the bottom of the tall glass. He hadn’t finished his coffee.

  The waitress came to clear the table. ‘All done?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ Had she seen? Could she tell if two of her customers had just kissed each other? She gave no indication. Would she care if she had seen? Probably not.

  ‘Can I get you something else?’ A nice smile. Friendly and open.

  ‘No thanks. I’m leaving now.’ Lara stood up. The waitress stepped aside.

  ‘Enjoy your day.’

  ‘Thank you, I will. You too.’

  ‘At least I’m inside in the aircon. It’s so hot out there today.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Lara stepped out into the afternoon but the heat didn’t register. Nothing much did except the fact Nick had kissed her and she’d kissed him back. Her feet took her to the bus stop all by themselves, the bus lumbered along at some stage and she climbed aboard, sat staring vacantly out the window, got off at her stop and walked home. In a daze. A euphoric daze.

  The house was quiet and cool. She peeped in on Petey. He lay sprawled on his back, little arms and legs flung wide, his stuffed giraffe against his cheek. He’d been asleep for nearly two hours but he’d been to bed late and up very early the last few days. Lara continued on to the family area at the rear of the house.

  Ellie sat reading with the fan whirring in the corner of the room. A glass of iced water stood on the little table next to her. She put her book down and removed her reading glasses. ‘Hello. How did it go? Where’s Brooke?’

  Lara dumped her bag and came back to earth. Brooke. The line-up. The grimy sweatiness of her body after the walk from the bus stop. ‘Hang on, I need a wash first. It’s stinking hot out there.’

  ‘But where’s Brooke?’ floated after her as she closed the bathroom door.

  Cool water splashed over her face and throat, a spritz of perfume. She applied moisturiser, staring at herself in the mirror. Was she beautiful? She’d never thought so, although her eyes were good. Large and brown with thick dark lashes. She touched her lips with a fingertip and smiled. It was like being kissed for the first time. It was a first kiss — from Nick. Would there be more? She applied lip gloss and exhaled. Idiot! Mooning about like a young girl all gooey-eyed and mushy. Life wasn’t like that, soft kisses and whispered compliments. Life was tough and hurled arrows and rocks whenever a chance arose.

  She flung the door open and rejoined Ellie. ‘Brooke will be back soon. She’s
giving a statement and they’re bringing her home in a police car.’

  ‘So she’s identified him.’ Ellie sighed with satisfaction. ‘Thank heavens for that. The poor child will be able to sleep easy in her bed now, knowing he’ll be locked up.’

  ‘There’s a way to go before that.’

  ‘But she’s a victim, a witness.’

  ‘But she has to prove he did what he did. Just because he left the bar with her or spent the evening with her doesn’t prove he did the rest. It’s her word against his.’ She’d heard that often enough from Tony and his tame lawyer. Their word against ours. Your word against mine. The latter when he grudgingly took her to hospital to have her broken arm and smashed cheek treated.

  ‘Ridiculous.’

  Lara shrugged. ‘I don’t know for sure but that’s what I think. They might have DNA evidence or something. They don’t tell me anything.’

  ‘Well, I think his goose is cooked.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ Depended how strong the case against him was and how good that unpleasant lawyer was.

  ***

  The expected storm didn’t arrive but a change wafted in around dinnertime, bringing cooler air but no rain. Brooke came home, calmer but pale, picked at their dinner of cold meat and salad and went to bed early, drained physically and mentally by her ordeal. Lara spent the evening watching television with an ear out for either the telephone or a tap, tap on the door but at eleven decided enough waiting was enough for a fully grown adult with responsibilities in the form of children. Yawning, she switched off the TV. With any luck Brooke wouldn’t have a nightmare now that the monster was locked away, and they could both catch up on the sleep missed last night.

  The phone started ringing as she came out of the bathroom in her pyjamas and she scrambled to answer it, telling herself the haste was so Petey and Brooke wouldn’t be woken.

  He came straight to the point, his voice purring gentle in her ear, a slight huskiness giving it a sexy edge. ‘I hope you’re not angry about this afternoon. I don’t think I should have done that. But I couldn’t not do it.’