by Sarah Bailey
‘No problem.’ De Luca purses her lips, gathers all the papers and heads back to her desk.
I check in with Tran.
‘The coroner still won’t release Rick’s body,’ she tells me. ‘He wants to get a weapons expert across it, a guy who can’t be here until Monday.’
‘Well, I guess until we know what’s going on with Aiden, the Fletchers won’t want to have the funeral anyway.’
I fill Tran in on the discrepancy around Rick’s income and Aiden not being the one to drive the van at the petrol station.
‘It doesn’t look good, does it?’ She sighs. ‘I must say I feel for the Fletchers despite what they have been doing. Anyway, keep me posted. I’m off after today for the weekend, but just call. I’ll probably need a break from my family by this time tomorrow anyway.’
‘Hang on a tic,’ I say, dashing into the meeting room and easing the door shut. ‘I also want to suggest that once this is all settled, perhaps Edwina de Luca might be put in touch with a senior woman in your squad. It doesn’t have to be you,’ I add quickly, ‘but I think she would benefit from a mentor. She’s very ambitious and performing well, but I don’t think she’s going to get the support she needs here.’
‘She has Tommy,’ says Tran.
‘I know. I just don’t think he’s great for her confidence levels. It isn’t urgent, I just wanted to mention it to you, seeing as I won’t be here for long.’
‘Okay, yep, noted. But I think de Luca needs to get better at working within her environment. She can’t expect special treatment.’
I blink in surprise. ‘She doesn’t expect special treatment but I’m not sure Tommy is as supportive of her as he could be. You know what it’s like.’
‘Gemma, let me be clear, Tommy has never put so much as a fingernail out of line. But he has indicated issues with de Luca. He thinks she has a problem with men.’
‘That’s not true. I think she has an issue with unimaginative dinosaurs in senior roles.’
‘Gemma, I know you and Tommy haven’t exactly hit it off, but I don’t appreciate your tone. I suggest you focus on the case and stay out of the squad politics, okay?’
Tran rings off, and I stay in the meeting room fuming. Her obsession with toeing the company line is blinding her to the obvious. Either that or she’s choosing to ignore it.
Realising the time, I stick my head into the main office. ‘You guys should go,’ I say. ‘We’ve hit overtime again. Grange, can you text Lane?’
He nods.
My phone rings and I jump at it, but it’s Owen, not Mac.
‘We’ve tracked down Robert Weston.’
Friday, 15 April
5.02 pm
I speak to one of the constables in my old team and arrange a video-link call.
‘It’ll be set up in about twenty minutes,’ she tells me. ‘Does that work?’
‘Yep, I’ll be ready,’ I say, grabbing my laptop with my spare hand.
Lane is back at his desk staring at the far wall. In the fluorescent light the mauve crescents under his eyes are pronounced.
‘Did you have any luck with the phones?’ I say.
He turns to me blankly. ‘Oh, yes. Sort of. A guy at the post office reckoned Aiden came in to buy two handsets and prepaid SIMs late last year. He said it was for mates visiting from overseas.’
‘An unlikely story.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Any luck ID’ing the guy on the Penrith servo’s CCTV?’
‘No, but I was thinking I’ll get it in front of the high school principal, make sure it’s not someone from here, and then send the image out in Sydney.’
‘Good idea.’ It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him to join me on the call to Weston but he looks like he needs a good nap. ‘I’ve got to jump on a call. Nine am here tomorrow, okay?’
He nods. ‘Sure.’
I connect to the video portal and make a cup of tea while I wait. Lane is gone by the time I come out of the kitchen.
In the meeting room, an electronic sound alerts me to the call and I accept. Two men appear on the screen: Robert is seated on the right, in baggy shorts and a white T-shirt, and a young constable I don’t recognise sits opposite him. He aims a remote at me and the sound comes on. ‘Right, Detective Woodstock, can you hear me?’
‘Yes, I can.’
The constable states the date and times, then introduces himself. He explains to Robert that I’m going to ask him a few questions and that our interview will be recorded but that he is not under arrest. When the constable swivels the camera to face Robert, I introduce myself and ask him to do the same.
‘Robert Phillip Weston,’ he says softly. ‘I’m nineteen, and I’m from Brighton in the UK.’
‘Robert, do you know why I want to speak with you?’
He taps his fingers on the table. ‘I think so. About that girl.’
‘Which girl?’
‘The girl who went missing. Abbey Clark.’
‘Did you know her, Robert?’
‘I met her a few times. At the shops and then at the party.’
‘You spoke to her?’
He nods. ‘At the shops only a bit. But I spoke to her at the party. I didn’t know she was fifteen, honestly. I only saw it after, on the news.’
‘Would her age have been a problem?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t have, you know, flirted with her if I’d known.’ He leans forward and wipes at his nose. ‘I just thought she was really pretty and all that.’
‘Did you have contact with her apart from at the shops and the party?’
He twists in his chair. ‘I sent her a few Facebook messages. I don’t know why I did that—I just liked her, I guess.’
‘Did she reply?’
He nods eagerly. ‘She wrote me back a really nice message.’
‘How did she respond to your advances at the party?’
Suddenly he looks crestfallen. ‘She was right angry. I don’t know why, I was just being friendly but she was really moody and kind of rude. Another girl told me she’d had a fight with her boyfriend, so I guessed it was something to do with that.’
‘What happened after you spoke to her?’
‘Nothing, really.’ He shrugs. ‘I kept trying to talk to her. I figured if she’d just speak to me, she’d realise how good a match we were but she kept shutting me down. My mates went back to the caravan park but I stayed. They’d kind of been getting on my nerves anyway, to be honest, giving me grief about Abbey.’
‘Right, so you stayed at the party. Who were you talking to?’
‘This other girl. Beth. The party was at her house—well, her family’s anyway.’
‘And how long did you stay talking to her?’
Robert sighs. ‘Not long. We hooked up for a bit, just like kissing and whatever, she seemed great, but then she went all funny and said she kind of had a boyfriend. So I left.’
‘Where did you go?’
He’s scratching at his wrist but his eye line remains steady. ‘Back to the caravan park. Then I wanted to buy some smokes.’
‘Did you see anyone on the way?’
He pauses and lets out a big breath. ‘Yeah. I saw her. The girl. Abbey.’
I feel myself pitching forward and hold on to the desk. ‘What time was this?’
He shrugs. ‘Just after midnight, I think. I left the party at maybe quarter to. A neighbour started going crazy about the noise when I was leaving.’
‘Where did you see Abbey?’
Running his fingers through his short hair, he says, ‘I was walking down the road, the one that cuts into the main street.’
‘Felton Way?’
‘Yes, I think that’s it. Anyway, I was going along on the edge of the road. When I was maybe fifty metres from the corner, something came out of the trees on the other side of the road. After a bit I realised it was her.’ He clasps his hands together and his eyes are averted. ‘She was running—and she was holding something.’
‘What was it
?’
‘I couldn’t tell from that far off, but it seemed like something heavy.’
‘Did you call out to her?’
Robert shakes his head. ‘No, I wasn’t that close and I didn’t want to scare her.’
‘Are you sure? This was a girl you’d been chatting up at a party, and then all of a sudden you’re alone with her and you don’t want to try it on?’
‘It wasn’t like that, really it wasn’t. It’s like she was in the middle of something . . . She was running along the road really fast. It’s hard to explain.’
‘But you definitely didn’t speak to her?’
‘No, but I did follow her—I mean, that’s the direction I was heading in anyway.’
‘Okay, what happened next?’
Robert picks up the pace. ‘She reached the corner, you know, where that pink beauty spa place is. I was kind of watching from the other side of the street a little further along.’
I’m pretty sure I know what happened next, but I ask anyway. ‘What was she doing, Robert?’
‘She stood there for a bit, just staring at the shop. It was creepy, like she was possessed or something.’ He swallows. ‘And then it’s like she snapped out of it, she kind of jumped up, and then she stepped backwards and sort of ran at the window.’ He looks directly down the camera, his dark eyes bright and bewildered. ‘She threw the brick right into the glass.’
Friday, 15 April
5.47 pm
I can see it. Feel it. A moment of pure, unadulterated rage. The slowing of time as the brick sailed through the air, then the blissful release as the glass rained down. It would have been violent and exquisite and then terrifying. I wonder if, as the glass settled, Abbey’s anger was sated, or had the act of violence rallied and empowered her? Convinced her that she could fight back?
‘What did she do after that?’ I ask Robert quietly.
He coughs. ‘She just stood there for a second looking at it, and then she ran. She took off back into the bush away from the shops.’
‘Did you follow her?’
‘No! I swear. The whole thing just totally freaked me out. I was a witness in a fight last year and the guy died—and, I don’t know, it probably sounds stupid but the whole thing just made me think of that. I just wanted to get out of there.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I stood there for a while and then no one came and there was no alarm, and so I went back to the caravan park. I didn’t even bother getting smokes in the end.’
‘What made you leave Fairhaven on Monday?’
‘I don’t know,’ says Robert, looking confused. ‘I guess I just didn’t want to be there. I saw the news . . . I knew she’d disappeared and I knew it would look bad that I’d been messaging her and trying to talk to her. And the girls at the supermarket knew I’d been coming in.’ He grips his head. ‘I do that sometimes, get really invested. I don’t know why. Abbey seemed like a cool chick and I wanted to talk to her. There’s nothing wrong with that.’
I don’t say anything, and Robert’s jerky breathing fills the room.
‘Plus, my mates were giving me shit and just dicking around . . .’ He drops his head into his hands. ‘I know it was bloody stupid not to say anything. As soon as the cops called today I was like, yeah, I need to tell someone what I saw. But on Monday, I don’t know, I just needed to get out of there.’
‘You didn’t know her boyfriend, Rick Fletcher?’
‘No, never met him. But Beth told me he was the guy Abbey argued with at the party.’ Robert looks down the camera wide-eyed. ‘I saw that someone killed him. Was it because of what happened to Abbey?’
I ask Robert a few more questions. Apparently he didn’t see anyone else on his late-night stroll last Saturday. Advising him we’ll need to speak to him again sometime soon, I disconnect the video and rest my head in my hands. Everything about Robert’s body language and demeanour seemed genuine but I make a note to check with Kate about whether she somehow records what time customers come back to the caravan park after hours.
I stand up and stretch out my back, looking at my phone. Nothing from Mac.
Feeling anxious, I call Vanessa. ‘I’m still at the station,’ I say. ‘Can you pop Ben on for me?’
‘Of course.’
He seems perky again, chatting about some new game Charlie taught him. I swallow back tears as I listen to him explain it to me. He asks, ‘Do you have to work late tonight, Mum?’
‘There’s just a few more things I have to do, okay? I won’t be too late. Maybe you can show me how to play Charlie’s game then.’
I make an instant coffee in the squad tearoom and drink it as I drive to the pub. The caffeine charges through my bloodstream and I feel a renewed sense of energy. Robert’s description of Abbey rolls into my mind. Why would she attack the salon? A random act of violence to release rage? Revenge on the Sheffields? Had Tara or Eric done something to her, or to Rick?
I get out of the car and do a double take, my heart rate picking up: a man is walking along the beach path and for a minute I think it’s Mac. Feeling wired, I head into the pub and am immediately engulfed by the fug of beer.
It’s already busy, with groups of young people crowding the pool tables. I spot Simon Charleston at the bar and give him a curt nod, then make my way over and order a light beer.
Cam lights up when he sees me. ‘Gemma! Hi.’ He leans across the bar, startlingly close to my face. ‘I hope I didn’t get you into trouble the other night? With that guy?’
‘Ah, no, it was totally fine. There was just a bit of a misunderstanding.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘I know how those go—I seem to make a habit of them.’ He expertly pours three beers and passes them to a petite blonde. ‘So everything is cool between you guys now?’
‘Yep, all good.’ I sip my beer and notice that Simon is eyeing me broodily from a table in the corner as he drinks his. I throw him an exasperated look and turn my back to him. ‘Hey, Cam, I know it’s busy but do you have time for a couple of questions?’
‘I’m not in the habit of saying no to police officers.’ He laughs. ‘Give me sec and then I’ll join you, okay?’
Five minutes later he hands me a water. He straddles the bar stool next to me and sips the froth from the top of his beer.
I take a breath to talk but he beats me to it. ‘How are you holding up?’ he asks sympathetically.
‘I’m okay,’ I say. ‘A bit tired.’
‘I don’t know how you do it. Especially with a kid.’ He takes another sip. ‘I heard about the Fletchers being arrested—I can’t believe they were dealing pot. It’s crazy.’
‘Are a lot of the kids around here drug users?’
‘Not that I see. I mean, I’m sure there’s a bit of it, but I certainly wouldn’t tolerate it in here.’
‘You never noticed Rick being involved in anything like that?’
Cam shakes his head. ‘No, he seemed like a pretty average kid.’
‘Was Rick’s decision to leave sudden?’
‘I think he’d been considering what he was going to do for a while. I remember him saying that Abbey encouraged him to have more of a life plan, but I guess he didn’t want to talk to me about it until he was sure. I’d talked about moving him into a more senior role here, managing shifts and helping to order stock. When he quit he told me he just really wanted to run his own business, which I obviously understood.’
‘And was Aiden in here much?’
‘Not really. He was more introverted than Rick. Seemed like kind of a loner. I never saw him hanging out with mates or a girlfriend.’
‘What time did you close up on Saturday night?’
‘About eleven, I think. We’d had a charity bingo night for the hospital, and that was really family friendly so it wrapped up early.’
‘You didn’t see anyone hanging around on your way home?’
He scratches his head. ‘Not that I noticed. By the time I went upstairs to go to bed there wasn’t
really anyone around.’
We sip our drinks while the madness rolls around us.
‘Still no word on Abbey?’ he asks.
‘I can’t really discuss it. But it’s certainly not an easy one.’
Cam sighs. ‘No. I have to say, I don’t feel much sympathy for Daniel Cark but I feel terrible for Dot—the not knowing must be torture.’
I nod. ‘Hey, Cam, you know those kids who went missing years ago?’
He rubs his eyes. ‘Sure, the whole thing turned my life upside down for months. What happened with Rick brought a lot of it back. That feeling like maybe you didn’t know someone as well as you thought you did. It’s pretty shitty.’
‘You worked with Gregory Ng that last night, right?’ I ask, remembering this from the online news article.
‘Yep. I must have replayed our conversations a hundred times in my head. The whole thing is so bloody weird, I can’t work it out for the life of me.’
‘What was Greg like?’
‘Had a bit of a chip on his shoulder. His family were bad news, and I think his childhood was pretty rough—but he really loved Sally, she was pretty much all he talked about. You know, how smart she was, how proud he was of her, how pretty she was. It could be a bit sickening, to be honest.’ Cam chuckles, then falls silent for a moment. ‘But he was a good worker. Occasionally patrons were a bit rowdy, so he’d have little tussles from time to time but nothing serious. He did have a run-in with Daniel that night, which came up during the investigation. I’ve always wondered about that, you know—if Daniel was looking for payback.’ Cam wrinkles his nose. ‘But because of the cash Greg nicked from the till, I guess I figured everyone was probably right, that he had stuff going on I just didn’t know about.’ He tips his head. ‘I still can’t believe he’d hurt Sally, but who knows?’ Raising an eyebrow at me, he asks, ‘Why?’
‘I was just curious.’
‘One case not enough for you?’ he teases.
I smile ruefully. ‘It’s more than enough.’
When I finish my beer I say goodnight to Cam, giving Simon a wide berth as I leave the pub.
‘Wait, Gemma!’
‘Go away, Simon,’ I say.