Already Dead (29 page)

‘It's Dad's phone!' Scotty's seven-year-old cry was filled with oh-cool, not oh-my-God.

A frown creased Kate's face.

Jax's heart thumped in her chest. Her first impulse was to grab it off the kid, but she swung her head to Kate for confirmation. It didn't tell her much – Kate just stared at Scotty while he held a finger to the power button, her lips parted as though she wanted to speak but the words were stuck.

‘Kate, is it Brendan's phone?' Jax asked.

‘It doesn't work,' Scotty said, both he and Zoe looking to Kate, like she'd know what to do.

She took it from him, turned it over, checked the back. Jax stepped closer, eyes flicking across the black rubber. There were no initials scratched into it, no blobs of paint or swipes of nail polish. Just scuff marks. The anonymous kind of scrapes you'd recognise if you'd seen them enough times.

‘Is it his?' Jax pressed.

Kate still didn't answer. Just pulled in deep breaths as her thumb slid up and down a wide gouge along one edge
of the rubber. Then her fingers tightened and she pressed the phone to her chest. ‘Yes,' she whispered. ‘It's his. It's Brendan's.'

Jealousy rose and burned in Jax like a hot coal pushing its way into her heart.
She
wanted a phone. Nick's phone. Delivered in the mail with all the answers to her endless, unsatisfied goddamn questions.

‘Why did Dad send me his phone, Mum?' Scotty asked, excitement still bubbling.

Kate pulled it from her chest, frowned at it. ‘I don't know.' She blinked at Jax. ‘Why would he send it to Scotty?' Without waiting for an answer, Kate snatched the padded envelope from the table where Scotty had dropped it. She pulled at the opening, checked inside, stuck her fingers in, shook it upside down.

‘Anything?' Jax asked.

‘No.'

‘What about the address?'

Jax watched at Kate's elbow as she read the front. Neat, old-fashioned handwriting in fine black marker:
Mr Scott Walsh.
The home address below in the same hand.

‘Brendan didn't write this,' Kate said.

‘Are you sure?'

‘Absolutely. He doesn't do cursive.'

‘What about the return address?'

Kate flipped the envelope over. No handwriting at all.

‘Mum, why did he send it?'

‘I don't know, honey. I don't know.' There was exasperation in her voice now.

Jax wasn't sure if it was aimed at Scotty or Brendan, but she felt it too. ‘The battery is probably dead,' she said.

‘Yeah,' Kate answered, but the concept did nothing to prod her into action.

‘Have you got a charger at home?'

‘No. I don't have the same phone and he always took his charger with him.'

Jax's fingers itched. ‘The police will want to have a look.'

‘What will they do with it?'

Keep it for as long as they damn well like
. ‘Go through the contents, download files, probably. Maybe send it for fingerprinting.'

‘They'll give it back, right? I want it back.'

Jax didn't answer straightaway. Not until Kate had met her eyes, needing reassurance. ‘Maybe. Eventually. I'm still waiting for Nick's to be returned.'

‘How long have they had it?'

‘Since the accident, a year ago. It was in his hand when he died.'

A flash of horror swept across Kate's face – at the image and the timeframe, Jax guessed. ‘Brendan kept photos on his,' Kate said. ‘Of us. The three of us.' She glanced at Scotty, licked her lips. ‘Were you allowed to get the photos from your husband's phone?'

‘I haven't had access to any of the stuff the police claimed.'

Tears welled in Kate's eyes. She covered them with a hand. Beside her, Scotty wrapped his arms around her hips, rested his head on her belly, as though he sensed her freshening sadness.

‘Mummy, what is it?' Zoe whispered from across the table.

‘It's okay, baby.'

‘Are they sad again?'

‘Yes.'

Kate had jumped the gun – sad before her lifeline to Brendan was gone. Jax had been there, wanted to tell her to get a lawyer to make sure the phone was returned in reasonable time. Except she wasn't sure it would work that way – not if the police decided it was key to their inquiries.

She was tempted, too, to suggest Kate keep it to herself. But Jax wanted the phone – or at least the information on it – included in the police investigation as an official record for the inquest.

‘I've got a charger in my car that'll fit Brendan's phone,' Jax said. ‘We could fire it up, save the pictures somewhere else.'

‘No. No, I can't look at them yet.' Kate was still thinking photos when there might be more she'd want.

‘Kate, there could be something on there that explains what happened.'

‘But he didn't send it. It's not his writing.'

Had someone found it and posted it home? Who kept their home address on their phone? And why to Scotty? That didn't make sense.

Jax picked up the envelope, squinted at the ink stamp in the corner. ‘It was mailed on Monday morning. That's only a few hours before Brendan got in my car. He could have given it to someone to post for him. He could've asked someone to write the address. It was posted to Scotty for a reason.'

Kate aimed her eyes at her son.

Jax said, ‘Brendan might have left a message on it. For Scotty. Or for you.'

‘Oh, God. It might … he might … blame me.'

As Kate's lips crumpled, Jax clutched her trembling shoulder. ‘He loved you, Kate. He was trying to get to you.' Whatever else happened, that much was true.

‘I can't. I know I should, but I can't look at it. Not here with Scotty. Not today.'

Jax's heart thumped, her teeth clenched. The phone was part of it, it had to be, it didn't make sense any other way. Maybe it was even the answer to it all. She wanted to see what was on it – more importantly, she knew what would happen if Kate didn't.

‘I know how you feel,' Jax told her. ‘It's hard but this is your chance. Once the police have the phone, you've lost everything on it. If Brendan left a message, you might want it. It might be all you want.'

She'd hoped to inject some of the metal that got Kate out of the house today, but it tipped her the other way and tears tumbled down her cheeks as her whole body shuddered with her sobs.

Jax opened her mouth, closed it again, obsession pushing and shoving. The phone was evidence; she wasn't sure what the legal ramifications were of accessing the phone of a man whose death was under investigation. Probably not good. And the information on it could be incriminating, ugly, hurtful. But Kate had a right and Jax could … ‘I could do it for you.' Yes, and take a good look through it – for both of them.

Kate wiped her cheeks with the heel of a hand, possibility in the look she directed at Jax.

‘I could save the photos for you,' Jax told her. ‘And whatever else can be downloaded. It won't be everything but you'll have it, and you can hand the phone over to the police and it won't matter if they don't give it back.'

Kate straightened, tucked hair behind her ear. Maybe finding strength in the thought that she didn't have to deal with it herself. ‘Okay. Do it. Please.'

‘It won't take long. An hour, maybe two. I'll bring it straight back. Then you give it to the cops, okay?'
Let them deal with it.

The car was hot after being locked up in the sun. With the windows down, the kids in the back and sand on her feet, it felt like a summer holiday road trip, except Jax was only driving three blocks to drop Kate and Scotty off, and neither of the parents was feeling the vibe.

‘If you find a message from Brendan,' Kate said as Jax stood by the car to say goodbye, ‘warn me before you show me, so I can brace myself.'

Jax felt the beginnings of a friendship in the brief hug they exchanged – one that might be blown apart by the phone in her bag. It made her impatient as she drove off, pulling to the kerb when she got out of sight.

‘What are you doing, Mummy?' Zoe leaned forward in the back seat, hoping to catch a look.

‘Checking something.' Jax plugged Brendan's phone into her car charger and hit the power button. Waited.

The only action was a flashing light. Which meant there was a battery in there but it'd been in the post since Monday – she'd have to wait.

‘Phone, Mummy,' Zoe sang as Jax's mobile sounded
an incoming text. She pulled it from her bag, saw Aiden's name, hesitated a moment before swiping the glass.

Jax? Can we talk?

She glanced at the other phone, the one that had been sent to the son of a dead man, guilt and suspicion doing a dance in her chest. She tossed hers back in her bag.

‘Didn't Scotty's mum want the phone?' Zoe asked as Jax pulled onto the road again.

‘Yes, baby. She wants it.'

‘Then why have you got it?'

Jax answered Zoe's questions on autopilot, her mind turning to Aiden as she headed for home. Did Aiden know Brendan had worked for Nina Torrence before Kate told him? He'd talked to Brendan's boss at Secure Force at some point but Brendan had signed a confidentiality agreement, it was possible his employer didn't know about the extra work. Jax had asked Aiden a hundred questions; he'd answered and offered nothing more. He'd made a point of it. Now she wondered what he hadn't shared – and whether it came from his investigation or some other source.

As she turned at the top of the hill, uncertainty squirmed in the back of her skull. She'd started out assuming Aiden was another cop trying to keep her out of his territory. He'd told her he was different and she'd believed him. More than that. She'd liked him – his company, his perception, the banter, his eyes.

Had she been fooled or was she the fool? Had she subconsciously wanted someone to trust and he'd ticked all the right boxes? Or was she so blinkered by her own cynicism that it was easier to accept another cop was an arsehole.

She'd know soon. As soon as she could get into Brendan's phone. She hoped.

‘Is Aunty Deanne here?' Zoe asked as Jax slowed for the driveway. Deanne's black hatchback was parked at the kerb.

‘Looks like it,' Jax said, trying to rein in the eagerness and urgency brewing in her chest, both grateful and not that Deanne had turned up. At the very least, her friend's arrival meant a delay in getting to Brendan's phone. More than likely, the mobile would require an explanation – Jax could hardly give her friend a quick peck on the cheek and disappear downstairs with it. Possibly the explanation would extend to what the hell she was doing obsessing over another death on a different road. And there would definitely be a rehash of last night's kiss. She could really do without that.

Zoe ran ahead, calling Deanne's name from the entry foyer, waiting to see if the reply came from upstairs or downstairs.

‘Zoe-bear!' Deanne's long dark hair and grinning face appeared at the top of Tilda's stairs.

Jax followed her daughter up, waiting for Deanne and Zoe to finish their standard hugging and giggling. Tilda watched from the sofa, two mugs and an empty plate on the coffee table. Deanne had been there a while.

When she turned her attention to Jax, her eyes widened with concern. ‘God, Jax, you look …' She wrapped her into a hug, didn't finish.

‘Look what?'

‘Exhausted. I think you've lost weight.'

‘It's been a busy week.'

‘That's an understatement.' Deanne made a face that somehow encompassed the carjacking and everything since.

Jax shrugged a
whatever
, not wanting to host a postmortem. ‘You didn't need to come all this way.'

‘I know. I wanted to.'

And it
was
good to see her, to be reminded Jax hadn't cast off her friends when she left her life in Sydney. ‘Thank you.' She hugged Deanne again, the weight of the extra phone like a stone in her bag.

‘Can we go to the beach again?' Zoe sang and jumped.

‘Again?' Tilda said. ‘I wondered where you'd gone.'

‘But where are your swimmers?' Deanne asked as if it was a mystery game.

Zoe took Deanne's hand, swinging it as she talked. ‘I didn't take them. I had orange juice and played with my new friend Scotty. His daddy died and I'm being nice to him.'

Two sets of concerned eyes settled on Jax. ‘We had coffee with Kate Walsh and her son,' she explained.

‘I had orange juice,' Zoe chipped in.

Deanne and Tilda exchanged a glance across the room. It wasn't a leap to guess what they'd been discussing in her absence. Her last few phone calls with Deanne must have sent some mixed messages – and now Deanne was here to see for herself how Jax was holding up. No guesses required how Tilda had reported.

‘Kate rang me this morning. She wanted to talk.' Jax mentally winced at the it-wasn't-me tone of her voice.

‘What did she want to talk about?' Deanne asked.

It was a loaded question, designed to make Jax open the subject of Brendan Walsh. She aimed instead for lighthearted deflection. ‘She thought we could be friends. It was an adult version of, “You wanna play in the sandpit?” There was sand and all but we let the kids do the work.'

In the tentative silence that followed, Zoe chipped in. ‘I got to play with Scotty's front-end loader, then we went on the sand and built a big castle, except we didn't get to finish the … the thing that goes around the outside.'

‘The moat,' Jax said.

‘Yeah, the moat.' Zoe grinned, waiting for some enthusiasm. Jax waited too, wondering if Deanne's visit was more organised than the spur-of-the-moment idea she'd suggested last night. Whether she and Tilda – possibly Russell, too – had planned a more specific discussion:
We care about you. We think you should see someone
.

‘Do you think that's a good idea?' Deanne finally asked.

Jax thought briefly about joking that they didn't really need a moat. Then suddenly, overwhelmingly, she couldn't be bothered with it. Any of it. Their concern, her defensiveness or the explanation. She wanted to know what was on Brendan's phone. She wanted to know who to trust. She wanted the focus and energy that filled her when she was opening files and figuring stuff out.

She wanted to feel like herself. Her old self. The one who knew what she was doing and how to do it.

And she wanted some answers.

‘Actually, I don't care if it's not a good idea,' she snapped. ‘The woman's husband is dead. She needs more than a police report to understand what happened to him. If I can help her, then at least the past year hasn't been a complete bloody waste of time.'

‘But, Jax –' Deanne started.

‘No, don't say it. I know you're concerned.' Jax shot a glance at Tilda. ‘Both of you. I'm grateful and you're right. I'm not looking after myself and I am obsessing and yes, I probably do need professional help. And I will get it, but
not yet. Because I don't
want
to let this go. I
need
some answers. And I need you to understand that.'

No-one spoke for a long, tense moment. At least Tilda and Deanne were smart enough not to share another worried glance. Zoe stopped jiggling and swung her face from adult to adult, sensing something brewing, not knowing what it was about. Deanne met Jax's impatient gaze. They'd been friends a long time, through good times and tough ones. Jobs and differing opinions, death and children (in Deanne's case, her inability to have them). They both knew some things were more important than others – and that some were hard to forgive. Deanne reached for Jax's hand and squeezed it.

Jax nodded. ‘I know you came a long way to see me but there's something I have to do.' She turned for the stairs.

‘Where are you going?' Deanne asked.

‘Downstairs.'

‘Can I join you?'

‘Only if you don't try to stop me.'

‘Can I come too?' Zoe cried.

‘Why don't you stay up here with me, honey?' Tilda said. ‘You can help me make lunch. Let Mummy and Aunty Deanne catch up.'

Possibly Tilda thought Deanne had a better chance of talking sense into Jax if they were alone. Jax saw no reason to change that notion, just threw her aunt a grateful smile and kept going.

Downstairs, as Deanne flicked her eyes around their new home, Jax plugged her phone charger in and ran the lead to the dining table where she opened the laptop from her bag. As it revved itself into life, she found Brendan's phone and attached it to the power cord.

Deanne pulled up a chair and sat. ‘What's going on?'

Jax held a finger on the power button. There might be fewer questions if she just told her. ‘This is Brendan Walsh's phone.'

‘It's the same as yours.'

‘Yeah. I'm going to see what's on it.'

Deanne's eyebrows rose, the significance just dawning. ‘The police gave you his phone?'

‘The police have been looking for it. It was mailed to his seven-year-old son. Kate Walsh picked it up from the post office this morning.' A brand name appeared on its glass face: the first steps in powering up.

‘Jesus, Jax.' There was something close to accusation in Deanne's tone.

‘No, I didn't steal it, if that's what you're thinking. I told Kate what happened to Nick's stuff. Hold on.' There was a keypad on the screen asking for a password. She found Kate's number in her own phone, typed a text:
I need a password. Any ideas?

Jax glanced at Deanne as she sent it. She was holding to their deal but not enjoying it. Maybe she deserved more. ‘Kate said there were photos on the phone but she wasn't ready to look at them. It was sent to Scotty – I thought Brendan might've left a message for them.'

‘It's part of an investigation, Jax.'

‘Exactly. Kate should get to see it.'

‘What are you doing with it?'

‘I'm going to set up an internet storage account for Kate, save the photos, look for a message and give the phone back to her.' Her mobile buzzed. ‘And you're not going to talk me out of it.'

Deanne didn't try. She sat quietly while Jax tapped in the numbers Kate had sent, swiped the face and pulled in a sharp breath as the screen filled with colour.

‘Is that him?' Deanne tucked a long rope of dark hair behind her ear and leaned closer.

‘Yes.'

Icons were scattered over the photo but it was clear enough. Brendan, Kate and Scotty, somewhere sunny and green. Not just smiling but happy, as though the picture had captured a moment of sheer joy. Brendan was at the top, his arms encircling his family. Protective, supportive, loving.

‘What the hell happened, Brendan?' Jax murmured.

Deanne reached out, laid fingers on Jax's forearm. ‘This, the phone, Kate Walsh, it's about Nick.'

‘You want to make
that
point as I prepare to tamper with evidence?'

Deanne lifted a hand, held it up like surrender. ‘I'm not trying to stop you.'

‘I get it, Deanne. I see myself in Kate. I see Zoe in her son. Brendan was killed on the road and no-one knows what happened to him. The parallels are flashing at me in neon … and I still want answers.'

‘Why, Jax? I mean, I get it with Nick. But why this guy? It won't change anything.'

Jax rubbed at her forehead, irritated to be explaining herself when the explanation she wanted might be in her hand. ‘It will, don't you see? I won't be the person walking away without a scratch. I won't be the fallout or the consequence or the unfortunate side effect.' She stopped, wanting to end it there, but she had Brendan's phone in her hand. ‘I couldn't help him. I tried, I held on to his
hands but he ripped them away from me. I couldn't help Nick either, or … or Mum and Dad. But I can do
this
. I can ask questions for him. For all of them. Have something to give to Zoe or to Kate Walsh. To myself. I want to move on, Deanne, but I refuse to go without making some noise.'