Shattered (35 page)

From the south-west came the grumbling roar of distant thunder.

‘Just get someone to do what I ask,’ Gemma pleaded. ‘And then test it against the cartridges and bullets from the Finn shootings. But don’t ask Sydney ballistics to do it. Okay? Get it done somewhere else. Anywhere else.’

‘You’re crazy. The Lindfield shooting has nothing to do with the murders of Bryson and Bettina Finn!’

‘The Lindfield shooting has everything to do with those murders! I swear that if you do as I say, you’ll be withdrawing the charges against Jaki Hunter. And I want you to personally take a very close look at the muzzle end of the barrel. Because I think you’ll find some little scratches there. You’ll be kissing me, and you’ll have your killer delivered to you.’

‘Give me one good reason why I should do this crazy thing,’ said Angie.

‘I’ll give you plenty,’ said Gemma. ‘Motive, opportunity, weapon, alibi, fabrication of evidence .
 
.
 
. I could continue.’

She made another phone call, to Sean Wright, and asked a question about one of the people on the crime scene team, noting down Sean’s answer. She rang off and turned as Mike came into the room, coming over to see what was on the screen.

‘What’s that? The superintendent’s leather jacket?’

‘That’s what I thought at first. But take a closer look.’

‘That’s not a super’s patch,’ he said, frowning.

‘No, it isn’t,’ said Gemma. Then she told him what she’d asked Angie to do and why.

Mike got it straightaway.

‘The killer’s laughing,’ said Gemma, ‘with someone else locked up for the shootings. Believing they’ve got away with it. And if Angie pushes this, it’s going to take at least a few hours for her to get the ballistics result. Especially on a Saturday night. Then she’ll have to keep the results from being leaked. You know what it’s like in the job. I wish there was something I could
do
!’

‘There isn’t. So I suggest coffee in bed,’ said Mike, slipping his arms around her waist. ‘Could help you take your mind off murder for a little while.’

He took the tray from her and carried it into the bedroom.

Once the coffee was finished, Mike took her cup from her and put it on the bedside table, gathering her to him in his arms.

‘Gemma Lincoln,’ he said, after she broke away from a delicious, coffee-flavoured kiss, ‘please don’t throw up on me tonight.’

Next morning, loud knocking on the front door woke them. Gemma threw on her dressing-gown, noticing they’d slept in, then hurried down the hallway.

‘You still in bed?’ asked Hugo as she opened the front door.

‘Good to see you too, Hugo,’ she said, unlocking the grille and letting him in. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Dad’s place,’ he said, walking in all clean and combed. ‘And guess what?’

‘What?’

‘I’m changing schools. To this really cool high school near where Mum lives. For some reason, Dad’s gone right off Bassett. Told me he doesn’t think it’s quite right for me. Don’t know why.’

‘Can’t imagine,’ Gemma said, suppressing a grin.

‘It’s a really good school and I can do legal studies as well as computer science. Bassett didn’t offer legal studies. I already know a couple of kids who go there.’

‘I’m impressed. You want to do law?’

‘I might,’ he shrugged. ‘I’d like to make some laws about protecting kids from dickhead grown-ups. What’s to eat?’ he asked. ‘I’m starving.’

Hugo stopped mid-stride when he saw Mike on his way to the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist.

‘Are you staying here too?’ Hugo demanded.

‘Too right I am, kid.’

Hugo stayed for a large part of the day, watching cable TV and eating Mike’s biscuits, while Gemma caught up with paperwork and Mike left to do some surveillance for another security operator.

‘See?’ Hugo said as he too made preparations to leave later. ‘I was right. Dad thought about what I said after all. So I didn’t have to dob on those losers at Bassett.’

After he’d gone, taking his backpack with him, Gemma tried to settle down to work, but found it hard to concentrate. Every time the phone rang, she snatched it up, hoping it would be Angie with the ballistics results. She wanted to act the moment the results were out. Before the inevitable gossip and leaks warned the killer.

She worked out the total figure for the time she’d spent on the investigation into the Finn family murders and added up the expenses. She pulled out her calculator and checked the amounts again. They were accurate. The account came to a large amount of money and Gemma decided to send it off straightaway. As a superintendent’s widow, Natalie Finn should end up with a good superannuation payout even if Gemma might have to wait a long time before her account was settled. But no amount of money would restore that shattered family, nor heal the wounds to the children, Donny and Jade. Maybe those wounds never heal, thought Gemma, remembering her own parents, feeling the sadness in her soul.

It wasn’t until the evening was closing in that the phone call she’d been hanging on finally came through.

‘I’ve got the result of the ballistics comparison with the Anschutz from the Lindfield crime scene,’ said Angie. ‘And it’s gonna knock your socks off.’

‘Not my socks,’ said Gemma. ‘They got knocked off when I first saw the relevant detail in a photograph. You’re going to tell me they found the same rifling characteristics?’

‘You said it. The guys in ballistics at Parramatta could hardly believe their eyes. We’re sending the whole thing over to DAL, just for confirmation. But it’s going to completely change this case.’

‘The minute the killer hears about the match, they’re going to run,’ said Gemma.

‘I’m working as fast as I can,’ said Angie. ‘I’m waiting on the warrant right now. We paid particular attention to the muzzle end like you suggested – and we found the scratches where the silencer had been screwed on.’

A long pause.

‘I’ve got to congratulate you, Gemster,’ Angie said finally. ‘I thought you were having some sort of breakdown. You know, either because of baby hormones or over Steve. And his new fiancée –’

‘Angie,’ Gemma broke in, ‘I’m dating another man. This time, a suitable, kind, loving, committed one.’

‘Don’t tell me! Let me guess .
 
.
 
. Mike.’ Angie sounded happy for her. ‘You two make a great investigation team. I pulled in the wrong person.’

‘Don’t feel too badly about it,’ said Gemma, feeling very pleased. ‘Like you said, all the evidence pointed to Jaki. But I had an extra piece of information that you didn’t have. A poor-quality photo from Dwight Ashton.’ She told Angie about the enhancement program. ‘Once I got a closer look at the wardrobe and spotted the jacket hanging in it, I played around with a couple of possible scenarios. Then I came up with a really workable hypothesis.’

‘I’m still confused,’ said Angie, ‘about how it was done.’

‘I’ve got the big moves blocked out,’ said Gemma. ‘It was beautiful, really. In its way. Take me out to dinner and I’ll tell you.’

She rang off and turned to Mike, who’d returned just in time to overhear most of the conversation. ‘I take it that your hypothesis has been confirmed by a ballistics examination?’

Gemma nodded, then flinched at deafening thunder right overhead as the front garden lit up mauve, then darkened again. The storm was rapidly approaching and its drama seemed to infuse her with edgy energy.

‘I can’t stay here and do nothing,’ she said, full of tense excitement. ‘I want to go and sit off the killer’s place. The information about the ballistics report is in the air. I don’t want to lose the quarry at this late stage. You know what it’s like. It only takes one phone call.’

‘Okay,’ said Mike. ‘I’ll follow you.’

Gemma agreed, thinking of the times she’d lost a target because she’d been alone. She jotted the address down for him in case they got separated on the drive, and made it to her car just before the rain hit.

Once on the road, Gemma had to put the windscreen wipers on at full speed to cut a swathe of visibility through the heavy rain. She glanced in the rear-vision mirror: except for Mike’s lights steadily following, she could see almost nothing of the road behind. Ahead of her, visibility extended only a few metres.

As the rain became even more intense, Gemma slowed her car to a crawl. Eventually, the torrential downpour forced her to pull over and sit out the worst of it. A little way back, she saw Mike’s headlights do the same.

Several minutes later, the rain eased and she pulled out. She could feel no compassion for the person who was about to be ambushed by the police. Not only had the killer murdered two people, they’d also set up the crimes so that someone else would pay. This person should be placed in a secured environment for a very long time.

Gemma settled to a steady speed and the sound of the radio crackled through the swish of the rain.

As she neared the address, her edgy excitement increased. She could feel her body pulsing. Sorry, baby, she apologised, for putting you through this elevated adrenaline level and blood flow. She also had to admit to some apprehension – that the killer would somehow slip through their fingers. Already, this person had demonstrated the capacity for extremely fast and creative thinking.

Because of the heavy rain, the drive took longer than she’d anticipated, but eventually Gemma pulled up on the opposite side of the road, a little way back from the dwelling. Night had fallen, and thick cloud cover obscured the moon.

There was no light showing in the target’s house. Maybe they weren’t home. Or had already fled. Gemma’s intention had been to sit off the place but perhaps it was already too late. She called Mike on the radio but he failed to respond. She tried a second time. It wasn’t until the third attempt that she was successful.

‘Tracker Three, Gemma,’ said Mike. ‘Copy, please.’

‘Copy, Mike. What’s up? You weren’t responding.’

‘I had my head stuck under the bloody hood. I went through a big puddle and must have got some water in the distributor cap. And now it won’t start. I’ll dry things off and try again. Be with you soon, I hope.’

‘You know where I am,’ she said, calling off.

Gemma waited, but the minutes weighed heavily and she was anxious that the killer had been tipped off and was already gone. Finally, she could sit still no longer. She felt around on the floor behind the front seats to find an umbrella. She was happy to have it; it provided good cover. If she held it at the right angle, she could keep her face almost completely hidden.

She swung out of the car and splashed across the road, approaching the dwelling. The front door was closed and all seemed to be in darkness. As it was the last house in the street, Gemma hurriedly splashed down the lane that ran the length of the building’s western side, turning left again into the back street where the houses had their garages.

The target’s garage was closed. The rain came down in sheets again, and Gemma swore, heading back up the lane to the front of the house to take refuge on the front verandah. Looking around to make sure she was unobserved, Gemma tested the door. It was locked.

This is not safe,
said a warning instinct deep within her.
She knew she should go back to the car. She didn’t know for sure if the house was empty, even if it
felt
empty from here. But her curiosity overruled the warning. She was peering through the window when a sound shocked her into immobility.

‘Don’t make a sound. Don’t even think about making a move.’

The voice was right in her ear. Gemma could feel the overpowering sense of someone crowding close behind her and the bruising point of a weapon pushed into her back.

‘You want to snoop around? Here’s your chance.’

Paulette’s gloved hand unlocked the door and shoved Gemma ahead of her.

‘Paulette!’ Gemma said. ‘What are you doing? I was just dropping by –’

‘You’ve been parked off my place for ages. You think I didn’t notice? Living with Benny taught me a lot of things.’

‘You’re overreacting,’ said Gemma, playing dumb. ‘Who’s Benny?’

‘Keep moving,’ said Paulette, and Gemma saw with fear that the woman held her service pistol in her other gloved hand. A Glock 26 with a silencer affixed.

‘Look, I can explain –’

‘Tell someone who cares. A mate rang me to say that the Lindfield rifle was being removed from the exhibit room and shipped out somewhere for further ballistics testing. Now why would that be?’

Now they stood in the middle of the renovations and Gemma remembered the last time she’d been here; the questions about Jaki Hunter revealing a little too much interest.

‘I’ll tell you why,’ said Paulette, throwing clothes into a suitcase, without releasing her hold on her Glock. ‘Because some nosey bitch kept sticking her face into police business, that’s why. Just keep standing there, nice and quiet, against the wall. Someone,’ she gestured with the weapon in Gemma’s direction, ‘just wouldn’t leave things alone. Angie McDonald had arrested the bitch who stole Bryson from me. Just like I’d set it up. But then this nosey PI started dragging things out of the woodwork. Angie was grizzling about your phone calls like you wouldn’t believe.’

‘Paulette, that Glock of yours is making me nervous. Put it down.’ Gemma tried to lessen the fast beating of her heart by taking some deep breaths.
Where are you, Mike?
‘You can’t run away from this.’

‘Wanna bet? I’ve done pretty good so far. I know some very powerful people who’ll help me.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on that,’ Gemma said, thinking of Louis Fayed.

Big mistake. Paulette’s face suddenly suffused with rage.

‘What would you know, bitch?’ She raised the Glock deliberately. ‘You’ve already got in my way. And you should know by now what I do to people who get in my way. Who take away the things I want.’

‘Take it easy, Paulette,’ said Gemma. ‘I meant no disrespect.’

Paulette glared at her, the anger still blazing from her eyes. ‘You
shut up
!’

Gemma complied. The flaring rage of the woman could at any time end in the same sort of result she’d seen in the crime scene photographs of the Finn murders.

Surely Mike must have dried his distributor cap or whatever it was by now! Surely he’d realise that she must be in the house when he came upon her empty car! Where the hell was he?

‘Uncle Louis will organise a passport for me. He always looks after me. I thought the superintendent would do the same. He made me his special protégé, his lover. I loved him. I used all my spare time following him, seeing where he went, who he met. He was my god. I just loved watching him. But something happened. He started looking at me differently – coldly. Then I found out why. I saw him meeting the bitch who took him away from me. I was transferred out from Manly into the city. Imagine how I felt when I found that my replacement was in the same work team as me! When I saw a replica of the Venetian glass heart he’d given me on her desk, I made a vow. That they’d both suffer like I was suffering. I was smashing it up when I realised her glass heart would have her DNA on it. That gave me an idea. That’s when I knew what I had to do. How I could punish them both. She had lots of personal items at work. Tissues from that damn flu of hers. That gave me all the material I needed. I wanted to throw that glass heart in his face. It became my revenge talisman.’

Tears sprang to her eyes and her voice wobbled. ‘He thought he could betray me and get away with it.’

The damaged heart she’d found at the picnic grounds, Gemma thought.
Paulette
had dropped that. That’s where Jaki’s heart had gone. And now Paulette was triumphantly
boasting
about what she’d done. Gemma’s mind raced. This was dangerous.

‘Why are you telling me all this?’ she asked.

‘Because you’re not as clever as you think,’ said Paulette giving her a narrow-eyed glance. ‘Do you really think I’m going to stay around and just meekly wait for them to arrive and
arrest
me? I’m leaving now for a new life. And you’re coming with me. You’re my insurance.’

She gestured with the Glock towards the kitchen area and Gemma started walking slowly, turning to see what her captor was intending.

‘Is that your weapon or is it another borrowed exhibit, like the Anschutz?’ Gemma asked, trying to buy time. She studied the handgun, made frighteningly long by the attached silencer.

‘If you’d kept out of it, you wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t be in this predicament – having to bolt. Angie McDonald and the others couldn’t see what was done under their noses.’