by Sarah Bailey
‘You came onto her at the supermarket that Tuesday night in February when you realised she was alone in the shop. She told Rick about it. That’s why he quit working with you.’
‘Abbey flirted with me all the time,’ Cam snaps. ‘She was a bloody Lolita. If she wrote about me, it was because she was obsessed with me. I was just playing along with what she wanted. But I’m telling you, she was trouble. Rick was better off without her—I told him that.’
The air is thick; I’m panting.
‘She’s fifteen years old,’ I say.
‘She was a total cocktease,’ Cam snaps. ‘And everyone around here knows it.’ He widens his stance and shuffles Ben back toward the stockroom doorway. ‘Anyway, it’s her word against mine and, well, she’s not here. I’m not worried about some schoolgirl ramblings in a diary.’
I try to harness my rage, to focus it. I need to bring this monster down. I need to keep Ben safe.
‘You saw her that night. You and Rick. What happened?’
A little tic pulses under Cam’s eye, and his fists curl. ‘The stupid slut stumbled up to us, and I said hello to her but she lost the plot. Apparently Rick had promised her he’d have nothing to do with me. I chased her for a bit, just mucking around. Rick was so cut up about it. I reckon she either topped herself or she went home and Danny beat the shit out of her. Truth is, I have absolutely no fucking idea. And as long as she doesn’t come back, I don’t care.’
‘Come on, Cam. If you didn’t hurt Abbey we can sort this out. It doesn’t have to be like this.’
He sighs. ‘But it does, because you stayed here when you should have just gone home. And you’ve figured it all out. I could tell you wouldn’t let anything slide that first night I met you.’ He tugs Ben further away from me.
A red mist explodes in my vision, and I draw my gun in a flourish, aiming at his temple.
He hesitates.
‘Let Ben go, he’s just a kid.’
When my son looks at me, I start to shake. The room comes in and out of focus.
‘I’m not going to gaol,’ says Cam. ‘No way.’
‘It might not come to that.’ My voice is blurry, words running into each other.
‘Oh, I think it will definitely come to that, thanks to you, Miss Gemma.’ He adjusts his hand on the wand of the lighter resting near Ben’s hair.
A new kind of fear grips me. He’s insane.
‘What happened to Rick?’ I ask.
He shrugs lazily. His lips curl away from his teeth, exposing his gums. ‘Poor Rick.’ Perspiration shines on his skin, and I feel my own sweat run along the curve of my eye socket. ‘That stupid little shit thought I’d offed his pathetic girlfriend. Can you believe it? He wanted to go to you lot about it. He should have just run away like his piss-weak brother. Cowardly, but much safer.’ Cam’s face is bright red now, the whites of his eyes gleaming an odd yellow.
‘So you killed Rick?’
Cam laughs flatly. ‘What’s with these idiots who fall for stuck-up girls so badly they can’t see straight? It drives me mad. Rick was great, you know, a really nice kid—he was making decent money and we had a good thing going, but he threw it all away for a girl.’
‘Just like Greg,’ I murmur.
‘Yeah,’ Cam spits. His face ripples under its mask of skin. ‘Do you know how much I’ve done for this fucking town? How many kids I’ve helped?’
Ben seems to have fallen into a trance. His eyes are wide; he barely blinks. My thoughts are wild and slippery. I pray in time to the beat of my heart.
‘Tell me about Sally and Greg.’ My words come out in gasps.
Cam’s voice is huskier now, fleshy. ‘I didn’t kill her—it was an accident. But it happened when she was sticking her nose into things that didn’t concern her.’
‘What things?’
He stares past me but I don’t take my eyes off him. ‘Greg and I had a good thing going too. He was so desperate to impress Sally and make something of himself, and I offered him a way to do it.’
‘You had him dealing drugs just like Rick.’
He laughs. ‘It’s not like I’m running a meth lab. It’s all prescription stuff. No one’s going to die unless they’re too stupid to live.’ His eyes narrow. ‘It was Greg’s fault—he let his emotions get the better of him.’
‘Just like Rick?’
‘It’s easy to forget they’re only kids,’ Cam muses. ‘They have no self-control.’
‘What happened to Sally?’
‘After closing time, the stupid girl snuck in here to surprise Greg. She interrupted us doing some business and was not a happy camper.’
‘She saw the drugs?’
Cam shrugs. ‘Greg’s father was in trouble with the cops again, and Sally’s snobby parents had been none too pleased about it. So when she came out the back and saw us sorting out some stock, she just went hysterical. The business wasn’t even that big back then, but she started ranting and raving about breaking up with Greg and going to the cops. Little did she know I had them in my back pocket.’ Cam’s stare goes glassy; I realise he’s looking beyond me to the main bar. ‘Greg was pleading with her—it was sad, really—but she wouldn’t have a bar of it. She ran out of the kitchen and through the bar, and she slipped on the floor that Greg had just mopped. The sound was terrible—her head cracked the side of the counter.’ Cam shudders. ‘I can still hear it.’
I can see it. Sally lying there, her neck at an odd angle. Greg’s panic. Cam’s calm.
‘The two of you got rid of her.’ Feeling faint, I force my shoulders apart to keep from slumping.
‘We had to. Even Greg could see we had no other option.’
‘So you snuck her out of there and dumped her body in the bush,’ I say, ‘but someone saw you. A couple of people, actually.’
Cam’s gaze is cool, focused back on me now. ‘Greg had his car outside, so we put her in the boot and cleaned up the mess here.’
The amount of information Cam is volunteering is terrifying, and even though I know the more he tells us, the more danger we’re probably in, keeping him talking still feels like the safest option. ‘You drove her car home?’ I prompt.
He nods. ‘Yeah. Greg followed me to her place, then we drove to the edge of town. It was a Sunday night with no one around. Everything would have been okay, but Greg couldn’t keep it together. Once we buried her, he just lost it. I couldn’t get through to him. I was telling him it was done now anyway, we couldn’t go to the cops once we buried her. It was done.’
‘Then what happened?’
Ben is limp in Cam’s arms, his eyes closed, and I taste salt. I hadn’t realised I was crying.
‘We got in the car, and Greg was bawling and rambling about not being able to live without her. I was trying to settle him down, but he jumped out and ran back to where we’d buried her. I went after him—I had to. But he wouldn’t listen. He even tried to dig her up.’ Cam raises an eyebrow at me as though this is a joke. ‘It was bizarre, honestly.’
‘You killed him?’
‘I fired a couple of warning shots so he knew I wasn’t mucking around. But he just started screaming. He turned on me, saying it was all my idea. He said we had to go to the cops.’
‘You shot him and buried him with Sally.’
Cam smiles slightly. ‘I figured that’s what Greg would have wanted.’
The red of my anger washes over the scene in front of me. ‘Where are they?’
‘A little way off the road near the town sign. I had to get rid of Greg’s car too, so I drove it into a lake and had to walk all the way back into town. Took me hours.’
‘Daniel Clark saw you driving that night.’
‘Bastard should have stayed right out of it,’ says Cam, scowling. ‘Same as that junkie hag.’
‘But you and Stuart Klein paid them off.’
Cam laughs. ‘I don’t think they know what they saw, but in the end it wasn’t that hard to get them to forget about it. It seems everyone talks the lan
guage of money.’
‘What was Klein’s role in all this?’
‘He was just happy to get a bit of pocket money to stay out of my way. I find it always pays to have friends in high places, Gemma. It’s a shame I never really cracked Tommy, but you can’t win ’em all.’
I’m so dizzy, finding it hard to stay upright. Gas, I finally realise. The air around us is thick with gas. I remember Cam stumbling against the stove as he set down that tub. I glance at the lighter in his hand.
He could blow us all to pieces. I have to keep him talking.
‘What did you do to Abbey, Cam? She knew about the drugs too.’
‘I told you, I didn’t touch her. I don’t think he told her about our side business.’
‘Yet you murdered Rick.’
‘He couldn’t leave it alone!’ Cam’s veins stand to attention as he clutches Ben. ‘He was just like Greg. Threatening me, saying he’d tell the cops I knew what happened to Abbey. I never wanted any of this. I’m not a killer, I just had no choice.’
My knees buckle and I waver on the spot, the gun dipping up and down in the direction of Cam and Ben. ‘Cam, let’s just get out of here and talk about it all properly.’
He holds the lighter in front of him, the innocuous piece of plastic bright in his hand. ‘No, I’m not going to gaol, Detective. No fucking way. I can start over. Disappear just like Abbey. I’ve done it before.’
His pupils dance. The room is hazy with poison.
‘No!’ I yell. ‘Mac!’
‘The storm must have caused the equipment to fault,’ Cam says. ‘It will be a terrible accident, just another of those Fairhaven tragedies.’
The only movement in the room is Cam lifting his finger. Our eyes lock.
‘Let me leave quietly and I’ll give you your kid.’ He smiles at me, warm and friendly. ‘There’s a little passage from the stockroom to the side of the building. I’ll just slip away.’
He steps back, his hand still on Ben’s shoulder.
Either way, Ben and I are going to die, trapped in Cam’s inferno. Once he’s outside, he’ll burn this place to the ground.
I hear Scott’s voice. I see Ben’s face.
Bang.
A rush of air. Movement. Cam lurches into the stockroom, one hand on the metal door, the other poised on the lighter trigger. Ben tumbles forward.
A clear shot.
A moment. A million thoughts. Then nothing.
My shoulder jerks and a hot burn leaks from my arm into the rest of my body. My legs cramp in a series of spasms. The lighter hits the ground with a tinny rattle. My knees press hard against concrete.
Someone is calling my name over and over.
‘Ben,’ I gasp, ‘help Ben.’
Hands grip my underarms. Cam stares at me as I’m dragged away, his blue eyes like marbles. A large red patch darkens his T-shirt.
‘Ben.’ I claw at the air, trying to see him. I’m back in the main room now; I recognise the exposed beams on the ceiling.
Simon’s worried face hovers above me, his hands clutching my shoulders. ‘We’ve got him, Gemma. It’s okay now.’
Tears are slick on my face and run into my hair. ‘Ben.’
Through my half-closed eyes I see Mac, ghostly white, holding Ben in his arms. He drops to his knees and lowers my son next to me, gripping his face between his hands, saying his name over and over.
Figures in blue surge around us. Simon disappears. I can’t see Mac either. Someone eases my arm back down to my side and gently extracts the gun from my fingers. My hand aches from gripping the weapon; the bones feel broken.
I killed a man. The thought is suspended in front of me, strange and impossible.
‘Is Cam . . .?’ I ask.
‘I’m afraid so,’ says a voice next to me.
I turn to see a young uniform with curly hair and a healthy serve of freckles. He glances toward the kitchen and lets out a breath as an ambulance officer appears by my side, the friendly man who watched over Ben last Monday at Rick Fletcher’s house.
‘Help my son, please.’
‘Try to relax. Ben is being looked after.’
I hear familiar medical sounds, pressure on my arm. A bright light cuts into each eye.
‘There’s a gravesite, on the edge of town. That’s where they’re buried,’ I say, though no one seems to be listening.
‘Gemma!’ It’s Tran. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Cam killed them all,’ I mumble. ‘And he was planning to burn the hotel.’
‘Will she be alright?’ Tran’s voice is fading. ‘Is the little boy going to be alright?’
My eyes close and I don’t hear a response.
Sunday, 17 April
5.32 pm
Nicki Mara was a statistical anomaly: a missing teenager who was actually a kidnap victim. I entertained many theories but never suspected the truth.
A year earlier, Lucas Mara had fallen out with his fellow partners in a law firm. Unbeknown to us, he’d helped himself to considerable wealth on the way out, which he hid in old dummy accounts. His former business partners had been blatantly disobeying the law; they were involved in drug trafficking, bribery and violent hits. Lucas had broken their pact and gone rogue, so he needed to be punished. They threatened him and killed his dog, but he held firm: he refused to give the money back.
After Nicki went missing he feared the worst, but he heard nothing for weeks. So he said nothing to us, praying she really had run away. And then the threats came. Never traceable, and nothing overt but enough for Lucas to know some bad people had Nicki and she was in danger. He felt trapped. He couldn’t give them what they wanted without revealing his role in their crimes and going to gaol. Plus, I suspect deep down he didn’t believe they would hurt her.
After Deirdre told us he was sneaking out of the house at night we questioned him, grilled him, until he finally admitted to us he thought she’d been abducted and that he was trying to find her. Unbeknownst to us the stupid fool also contacted his old co-workers and said he would turn them all in unless they returned Nicki.
It backfired badly. They ordered their hit men to kill Nicki. To make her go away. They pumped her full of heroin and strangled her.
I wake groggy and bloated but feel no pain. The hospital bed is surrounded by a light blue curtain, and I close my eyes and see Nicki slumped in the grimy bathtub, her skin mottled and bruised. I immediately jerk my eyes open again.
Cam appears on the blue curtain screen. He’s holding the lighter, leering at me as he moves his thumb. I grimace when I hear the gunshot reverberate through the pub kitchen. A strange rasp escapes my mouth.
The curtain shifts and Mac’s face appears. He pushes past the material and lowers himself into a hard plastic chair next to the bed.
‘Where’s Ben?’ I croak.
‘In the next room, sound asleep,’ says Mac. ‘He’s going to be fine. Same as you.’
I relax, my limbs melting back into the bed.
‘The baby is fine as well,’ Mac says softly. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. ‘Earlier today, after you left, Ben mentioned that you said we might have a baby. I didn’t quite know what to say.’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘Yeah.’ He sighs. ‘I’m sure it is.’
‘Lucas Mara called me,’ I say quietly. ‘A few days before we found Nicki.’
Mac pauses, frowning. ‘I know, you told me.’
‘No, I didn’t.’ I start to cry. ‘I didn’t tell you what he said to me.’
‘I thought you said he was just rambling. You called Deirdre and suggested she make sure he saw a counsellor.’
I try to sit up but my wrists buckle. ‘I should have listened to what he was trying to tell me. He told me he had a dream. That some men had taken Nicki. That he had a feeling she was in a house in Mosman. And I just thought he was losing his mind. He was babbling and manic, and I didn’t take it seriously—I was distracted with the Ronson case and still thought Nicki was
a time-wasting runaway.’ I groan and put my face in my hands. ‘I gave up on her. But we could have found her, Mac. We could have saved her.’ My voice dips to a whisper. ‘She must have been so scared.’
He strokes my cheek. ‘Gem, don’t. Don’t torture yourself. You know better than that.’
‘I really wanted to find Abbey. That’s why I came here.’
‘I know,’ says Mac. ‘But it wouldn’t have brought Nicki back. You’re a good cop, you care, and you do the best you can with what you’ve got.’
‘It’s not always enough,’ I say.
‘No, it’s not, but you’ve known that for a long time. Nicki’s case was complicated. We all got things wrong. Even if you had taken Lucas seriously, what would you have done? Searched every house in Mosman?’
‘I just wish I’d made Lucas tell me what he knew. Now they’re both dead.’
Lucas hanged himself in custody a fortnight after Nicki was killed.
‘Yeah.’ Mac slumps back against the chair. He looks awful.
‘Are you alright?’ I say feebly.
For a second I think he is going to cry. A strange ripple shudders across his face before he straightens and grabs my hand, saying, ‘Yes, but I never want to go through anything like what happened today ever again.’
I soak up his touch. ‘Me neither.’
‘Gemma, I’m going to go.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m flying back to Sydney tonight.’ He extracts his hand and checks his watch. ‘In about two hours.’
A surge of emotion renders me mute.
‘It’s Molly’s birthday tomorrow, and I should be there,’ he continues.
‘I forgot about that,’ I murmur.
‘I shouldn’t have stayed here,’ Mac continues, thrusting his fingers through his hair. ‘Not only would none of this have happened but I should have given us both the space we need to think.’ He looks so lost.
‘I’m so sorry, Mac.’
He nods. ‘Me too. There’s a lot I admire about you, Gemma, but I need you to let me in if this is going to work.’ His hands curl and his jaw tenses. ‘No matter what we decide. That’s non-negotiable for me.’