Blood Sport (33 page)

“You’re just feeling guilty because no animals died for my lunch,” I teased again, then relented. “I’ll swap you half-a-sandwich for half-a-sandwich.”

He didn’t even think twice but plonked half his sandwich on my plate and took half of mine. “Thanks Tess. You’re a great partner.”

I complained. “I didn’t think you’d take me up on it.”

“More fool you,” he smiled between bites. “Word of advice – don’t offer what you don’t want to lose.”

“That’s very good advice for a woman,” I agreed, standing up and moving to the counter to buy us both a coffee, carefully counting out my ten and five cent pieces.

“Payday’s a while away, huh?” asked the patient cashier with an understanding smile.

“Sure is, buddy,” I smiled back. “And even then it’s not going to make a dent.”

“I hear you,” he sympathised, sorting the coins into the register. I carried the coffees back to our table. Keeping our hands warm around our mugs, we discussed what we’d do for the rest of the day.

“We’ll stay away from the bikies for now,” he decided.

“Sarge, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t we check the missing persons database for Lucy and Kylie? If they are runaways, they might be listed on it, particularly if they’re underaged. We could find their real names then and maybe talk to their parents. Maybe Lucy returned back home and we could talk to her about the bikies?”

“Good thinking, Tess. Why don’t we do it at the station here? They have better internet connection than us.”

“Should be safe – the Super’s gone to that lunch meeting.”

We finished up and headed back to the Big Town police station, wheedling the use of a spare computer out of Patricia, one of the duty sergeants. She was a freckled, tall, thin woman in her early forties with a sensible brown bob and rimless glasses, whose face lit up with great beauty each time she smiled. I always found her practical and levelheaded and had we worked together, I felt sure that we would have become very good friends. As it was we were friendly acquaintances.

“Help yourself, guys,” she said, opening the door at the counter to the back room. We went straight to our favourite computer, the one that nobody ever seemed to use. It still had the same cobweb on it that it had four months ago. I sat at the computer and the Sarge sat on the desk, his feet on my chair.

I brought up the nation’s missing persons database, a joint initiative of the federal police and all of the state police forces. It had proved invaluable for finding runaways and for identifying Jane and John Does. I tapped in ‘Kylie Francine Petroff’. No hits. I typed in ‘Kylie’ and received 248 hits. I groaned.

“Print a report on them all,” he ordered.

“Hang on, don’t be so quick. I can narrow it down.” I looked up at him. “What’s the maximum age we think our Kylie could be? Will I put in twenty?”

“Yep.” So I fine-tuned the search to only those girls born less than twenty years ago. The number of hits reduced dramatically. Kylie was a popular name during the 1980s, but not so much in the following decades. There were only fifty-two young Kylies missing in the country at the moment.

“That’s still so many of them,” I said sadly, printing the report.

“You know, that’s only any use if her name actually
is
Kylie,” he noted.

“But Sarge, she didn’t hesitate when I asked her what her name was. Not like when I asked her the year she was born. That gives me hope that our Kylie is in this pile.” I went back to my next search, tapping on the keyboard, all my attention on the screen.

“Do you want another coffee?” he asked.

“Hmm?” I wasn’t really listening, absorbed with punching data into the computer.

“Do you want another coffee?” he asked again, patiently.

“Sure, that would be great, thanks honey-boy,” I said absently, my mind on the task, continuing my typing. I suddenly remembered who I was talking to with that excruciating physical jolt of blinding pain that accompanies the realisation that you’ve just made a terrible
faux pas
. I jerked my head up at him. “Oh sorry, Sarge! I slipped into Jakey-talk then for a minute. I’m so sorry.”

God, how embarrassing!
It was like calling your teacher ‘mum’ at school. I could feel myself blushing for the third time today. On top of the snuggling incident, it was
definitely
a sign that the Sarge and I were spending far too much time together.

“No worries, my darling,” he returned lightly and continued on his way to the well-equipped kitchen. I watched him go, cursing myself for my blunder. He was going to think that I had a ‘thing’ for him soon, if I didn’t start watching myself.

“
Teresa Fuller!
” called a very unwelcome voice from out in the foyer. My blood froze. How in God’s name had she spotted me sitting here in the back office? And what on earth was she doing back so early? I’d thought we’d have plenty of time to escape before she returned from lunch with the Mayor.

The Super leaned over the counter and shouted loudly enough for the entire station to hear. “What the
fuck
are you still doing here? I distinctly remember telling you and Sergeant So-not-getting-a-promotion-in-my-lifetime to fuck off back to Catpiss Town.”

I jumped to my feet, knocking my chair over in my haste, frantically pressing the print button for the report I’d called up. “Ma’am, we’re just running a report from the missing persons database. The internet here is –”

Her teeth were clenched so tightly that I could barely discern her words. “If I hear one more word of donkeyshit back from you, I’m going to start becoming
really
fucking angry. So I suggest that you get the fuck out of my sight right now, Senior Constable.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I knew she meant it when she stopped calling me by my first name.
Hurry up, printer!
“I just have to grab the Sarge and then we’re gone, I promise.”

I ran into the kitchen, seized the Sarge by his arm and my wild-eyed face was enough to make him abandon the coffee-making and follow me without question. On the way out, I still needed to stall so the printer could finish its job. I stopped in front of the computer.

“
Teresa Fuller!
” the Super shouted, the veins on her forehead popping out unattractively.

“Ma’am, I have to shut the computer down. You were only telling us last week how important it is to be sustainable,” I bullshitted desperately.

She described then in graphic detail the permanent and probably fatal injuries she’d sustain on me if I didn’t get my arse out of her station in less than one yoctosecond. I didn’t even know what a yoctosecond was, but it sounded like a real tiny amount of time to me.

She continued to rage as we lingered and I pretended to spend a few more tense moments shutting down the computer, the Sarge snatching the printout as soon as the last page finished spewing from the printer. We flew to the counter door, every cop in sight watching anxiously as we took flight from the danger. We’d almost made it to the entrance door, when her loud voice echoed through the foyer.

“
Teresa Fuller! Get back here!
” I stopped and turned. Under their breath, everybody was secretly urging for us to
go, go, go
, but I couldn’t disobey her. Fiona had been my mentor and my support for years and she was now my boss. I had joined a career that was built on hierarchy and I owed her obedience and self-discipline. At least in public.

I fronted up to her and stiffened my spine. “Yes, ma’am?” I said with parade-ground impersonality, gazing at her steadily.

She stood in front of me, steam pouring out of every pore. Obviously her lunch with the Mayor hadn’t gone well and she was going to take it out on me. She stared at me intently. I stared back, not blinking, wearing my poker-face. Then she frowned, cooling down. She’d never been able to stay angry with me for long, something that made all the other cops in Big Town rightfully envious. But to be honest, I couldn’t really explain why, except that she’d known me for a very long time.

“What were you doing that was so important you disobeyed me?” she asked in an evenhanded tone, low enough for only us to hear.

“You’ll be angry,” I warned, not wanting to tell her.

“I’m angry already,” she pointed out reasonably.

I blinked a few times before sighing. “I was still investigating the bikie case.”

She exhaled heavily. “What did I tell you about investigating?”

“But, ma’am –”

“You’re
not
a fucking detective, Tess. You’re a general duties uniformed cop. It’s not your job to investigate.” She counted on her fingers as she spoke. “It’s your job to prevent crime, respond to the public, enforce the law and to maintain order. You and Maguire have a town to look after, full of lawbreaking Bycrafts, and that’s your fucking job. Not investigating. I can’t tell you how much it shits me to tears to see you two here in Wattling Bay every fucking day, fart-arsing around on fantasy crimes like two sheep-fiddling Nancy Drews, while nobody’s looking after your town.”

I thought that was unfair, considering she was the one who forced us to come to Big Town half the time, but I sensibly held my tongue.

“You think I’d stink as a detective,” I said sulkily instead.

She regarded me coolly. “Don’t go all teenage angst on me, Tess. It bores me to death. Anyway, I didn’t say that.” She paused a beat, clocking my disconsolate features. “What’s the fucking problem?”

Our eyes locked together, light blue and dark gray, with so much shared history and pain. But she shouldn’t have asked me that particular question because everything came tumbling out at once.

“I trusted my instincts with the bikies, but you think my evidence is less than nothing. That’s a big blow to me, ma’am. Maybe I’ll never make detective?
And
I just called the Sarge ‘honey-boy’ because I spend so much time with him and I never see Jakey anymore. I’m all topsy-turvy at the moment. I’m thinking I should go back to the city so I can earn more. I don’t have enough money to pay for looking after Dad and fixing my house.”

She stared at me for a full minute, assessing. “Tess, you’re twenty-seven. You need to start thinking seriously about your future. About making a permanent break from that town.
And
everybody in it.”
Hmm, was that a pointed barb at both Jake and the Sarge?

“You know I can’t do that yet. Dad wants –”

She cut in impatiently. “Sometimes I think Trev ought to consider more what’s best for you, rather than what he wants. He’s spent his whole life doing what he wants.” Her unexpected censure of Dad startled me. I didn’t think she had any business to be criticising him like that and my face grew mutinous. Dad had every right in the world to demand what he wanted before he died, even if that meant I had to stay in Little Town because that’s where he wanted to be.

I opened my mouth to protest, but she continued, not paying me any heed. “But for now, you and Maguire have to get back to your town.” She checked her watch. “Your instincts are usually sound. Spend some time tonight looking over those printouts. See if you can find anything to convince me that there’s more going on at that place than just the Bycraft sluts banging some fugly bikies.”

I managed to smile at her gratefully for her latitude. “Thanks, ma’am.”

“When are you coming for dinner again? Ronnie misses you. Only last night he was complaining how long it’s been since you’ve stayed with us.”

“I’ll stay when I get an invitation,” I replied tartly.

“This Saturday?”

“Can’t do. It’s Jakey’s birthday on Saturday.”

“How about Friday then? Jake can pick you up from my place on Saturday morning.”

“Okay, that would be nice.”

“Good. Ronnie’s working down your way on Friday. He’ll pick you up after work.” Ronnie worked for the Main Roads Department, maintaining the Coastal Range Highway and other state-owned roads in the area.

“Great.”

“It will be good for you to get away from that town for a while.”

“It will.”

“And from Maguire.”

I didn’t respond, not sure what to say. She was probably right, but when I looked over to him waiting patiently for me, watching with unguarded concern shadowing his dark blue eyes, I didn’t feel as though I wanted to get away from him at all. I wasn’t sure how I felt and I wasn’t sure that I much wanted to think about it either.

I made my farewell to her and joined him. He hustled me from the building before the Super started ranting again, his hand on my shoulder blade.

Chapter 19

“I’ve completely had it with this rain,” he complained, slowing down to negotiate a fast-flooding dip in the road. “We’re going to be stranded in Little Town if this keeps up.”

“We can check the weather bureau when we get back to the station. The satellite image might give us a clue when the clouds are going to break up. Don’t worry about being stranded though. We’re up higher than Big Town, being closer to the mountains. They’re the ones who have to worry about being stranded, not us.”

He brightened momentarily. “The Super stuck in Big Town, surrounded by flood waters? That would be a dream come true. I could have a break from her accusing me of crimes against nature.”