Blood Tears (11 page)

“
You
had to convince the brass to let you to return here?”

“
Yes.
Someone wasn’t happy about it at all, and had to have her arm
repeatedly and violently twisted behind her back to agree. You’ll
never guess who.”

Fiona. Who else?

I wasn’t going to let
him off that easily. “Must be nice to get to do pretty much
whatever you want because you have some high contacts.”

“
I
didn’t want to leave, Tessie. I had no choice about that.”
Sure,
whatever
, I thought. He sighed. “I thought you might be a
little pleased to see me again.”

“
Why?
It makes no difference to me who’s my sergeant,” I lied.

He sighed again, this
time in exasperation. “You’re not going to make this easy for me,
are you?”

“
I
didn’t realise I was supposed to. I guess that must have also been
in the memo I didn’t receive about the PIU investigation being
complete.”

We faced off, but he
broke eye contact first. “I’m tired. I’ve had a long day driving,
and I came here straight from the airport. I understand Baz chose
not to occupy my house.” I nodded. “Do you have the keys for it on
you?”

“
No,
they’re at home.”

“
Do
you mind if I swing past there to pick them up? Will your father be
home?” I nodded again. “I’d like to do some unpacking tonight
before I crash.”

“
Did
you bring Melissa with you?” I could imagine her refusing to leave
his car, not deigning to converse with me.

“
No.”

“
Is
she still resisting the move here? I suppose she’s stayed in the
city?”

“
I
don’t know. I don’t know where she is.”

I frowned. “What do you
mean? Is she still overseas?”

“
Like
I said, I don’t know. Perhaps.” At my obtuse face, he explained
further. “We broke up while we were overseas.”

I goggled at him.
“Broke up?” I repeated stupidly.

“
Yes,
Tessie,” he replied patiently. “We’re no longer engaged. I haven’t
had any contact with her for over a month. Which you’d know if
you’d read my emails.” Said with a pointed expression.

“
Why
did you break up?”

Again, his eyes rested
steadily on me. “I had my reasons,” he said, and without another
word, he departed.

I watched him drive his
Beemer the fifty metres between the station carpark and the police
house driveway, my head spinning.

*****

I worked for a bit
longer, wanting to finish my report on what Mr Mansfield had told
me earlier before leaving for the day. It was strange to see lights
on in the police house again after months of it sitting in darkness
each night. I refused to let my mind dwell on the fact that the
Sarge had returned to stay, and that he’d apparently returned as a
single man.

I could have got on the
phone to alert Gretel and Romi about that fascinating fact, but I
decided to let people find out for themselves.
It wasn’t my job
to be the town gossip
, I thought piously, watching as the pages
of my report glided smoothly from the printer. I stapled them
together, threw the report into Baz’s in-tray for his perusal
tomorrow. Normally, I would have also emailed a copy to Mr X and
Zelda, but Baz insisted on first reading all my reports before they
became official records – just one more thing that annoyed me about
being disciplined.

A giddy thought
suddenly struck me. If the Sarge was back in town as
officer-in-charge, then that must mean my disciplinary time was
correspondingly served. I’d be free of Baz’s well-intentioned, but
cloying, administrations.

And on that happy
consideration, I locked up and jumped down the stairs of the
station with more enthusiasm than I’d felt for a long time. Jake
would be a happy man tonight.

I glanced up at the
station as I opened the Land Rover, not needing to unlock it, as
all the door locks were now officially kaput. I’d had to
reluctantly start using Dad’s old steering wheel lock, despite the
unattractive and decrepit nature of the vehicle. Nobody in their
right mind would want to steal it, but more than once I’d caught
one of the younger Bycrafts – mostly Chad – trying to hotwire it.
I’d be the first to admit it was hardly worth a cent at its great
age, and couldn’t muster up enough speed to make it a desirable
joyriding vehicle, but it was my only set of wheels. I’d be damned
if I let one of the Bycrafts steal it from me.

At home, I parked next
to Jake’s flashy golden ute, the real love of his life. My slightly
upbeat mood was immediately spoiled by the truculent set to his
face when he greeted me at the door. Without a word to him, I
detoured to my bedroom, closing the door in his face, to change out
of my uniform into a skirt and t-shirt, my knife snuggled securely
on my thigh. I padded barefoot to the kitchen, Jake following in my
wake.

“
So,
Maguire’s back in town,” he said, as I peered in the fridge,
looking for some inspiration for dinner. Jake must have already
been here when the Sarge came over to pick up his house
keys.

“
And?”

“
Suppose he’s here to pack up his shit and leave?”

“
Nope. He reckons he’s back for good.”

“
Oh,
just great. Now you’re going to spend all your time with him again.
I barely see you as it is.”

I turned around to face
him then, my hands on my hips. “I don’t remember you complaining
much about me having to spend every second of the day with Baz. So
why would it be any different with Maguire?”

“
Baz
is old enough to be your father. Maguire’s young, rich, and
educated. That could turn a lot of women’s heads.” I let the
implied insult hang in the air between us, aware it stemmed from
his own insecurities about his financial struggles and lack of
education. Didn’t stop me from glaring at him though. “Well, I’m
waiting.”

“
For
what?” I demanded.

“
For
you to remind me for the millionth time that he’s
engaged.”

Not answering, I busied
myself pulling out some premade pizza bases from the fridge and
ingredients to go on top. Chopping some chorizo and red onion, my
resolve not to be a gossip dissolved. Jake would find out sooner or
later (most likely sooner in this town), so it was best he heard it
from me first.

“
He’s
not engaged anymore.”

“
What?”

“
They
broke up while they were overseas. That’s what he told
me.”

“
Fan-fucking-tastic!” he exploded. “Why do you think he’s come
back to this shithole?”

I spun around, feeling
rather volcanic myself. “How the hell would I know? And why are you
getting so shitty with
me
? I have no control over who I work
with, and I sure as hell don’t have any control over Maguire’s
personal life. So,
back off
, Jakey!” Recognising the
dangerous look on my face and tone to my voice, he remained silent.
I deflated. “Can we just have a nice evening together? Please? I
don’t want to talk about Baz. I don’t want to talk about Maguire. I
just want to talk and think about you.”

“
I’m
sorry, baby doll,” he said, immediately contrite. We hugged and
kissed before I returned to my prep work.

“
Everything okay in here?” Dad asked, having rolled his
wheelchair to the door of the kitchen, and eyeing us both
off.

I dropped a kiss on the
top of his head. “Yep, everything’s fine. Jakey’s just offered to
help me,” I said, holding out a knife for him in an unmistakable
hint.

“
Anything I can do, love?”

“
No,
Dad. It’s all under control.”

Peace reigned in the
kitchen again as Jake and I worked together to produce dinner. As
we ate at the kitchen table, Jake regaled us with scurrilous tales
about some of the high-profile inmates at the low-security prison
where he worked. More like a holiday resort than a punishment, the
prisoners were treated to all sorts of luxuries that Dad and I
could only dream about. I sometimes wondered if I should commit a
string of petty crimes so I could get banged up in the female
equivalent low-security prison, and enjoy the same benefits. But I
always ended up ruling that daydream out, knowing that for obvious
reasons, cops weren’t particularly welcomed in prison.

The evening passed
peacefully, Jake and I careful not to discuss either the Sarge’s
return or Denny’s funeral.

Much later that night,
I had to dress quickly and leave Jake slumbering in my bed to
answer a domestic call-out. I tossed up whether I should attend it
by myself, but decided that as I was almost close to freedom, I
shouldn’t risk doing anything that would bring the wrath of Baz (or
even worse, the Super) down on my head. So I reluctantly roused a
bleary Baz, dragging him away from the dubious charms of Foxy. He
swung by my house in the patrol car to pick me up, both of us in
our civvies, but wearing our utility belts.

A domestic call-out was
always an unwanted job. You never knew what you’d encounter. It
could be a neighbour dispute, a fight between friends or family
members, or a case of domestic violence. You could arrive at the
scene to find everyone denying anything was wrong, a cowed child or
partner in the background sporting fresh bruises and trying to hide
them. Or you could arrive to find the whole matter still in full
swing. You could arrive to find a hostage situation had developed,
or in the worst scenario, it could be a murder scene that greeted
you. One thing that was usually for sure was that there would be
alcohol and/or drugs involved, which only ratcheted the entire
sorry situation up another notch. And the fact that it was a
Bycraft call-out ratcheted the situation up to full blast.

I was half-glad,
half-sorry, to have Baz accompanying me. On the one hand, he was
very good at defusing tense situations in an authoritative but
genial way, as I’d witnessed multiple times. On the other, he
wasn’t in the best shape for a cop, and we really hadn’t had any
physical altercations since his arrival. And if there was one thing
in the world the Bycrafts seemed to enjoy, judging by how many they
were involved in each year, it was physical altercations.

I glanced at Baz’s big
belly straining through the buttons of his ‘going out’ shirt (as he
called it), now rather crumpled. He’d probably thrown it to the
floor earlier in the evening with scant regard, eager to get down
to business with Foxy – an image I really didn’t need in my brain
at this time in the morning. I wondered when was the last time he’d
had to do some hard physical policing with desperate people,
instead of merely ‘wrangling’ poor cops like me.

I guess I’d find out
tonight.

We pulled up in front
of Lola’s house. Every light blazed inside, and we could hear
shouting and crashing from the patrol car.

“
Sounds like it’s going to be a good one,” Baz commented
neutrally, clicking open his seatbelt.

“
Yep.
There might be some sleepovers in the lockup tonight,” I said,
automatically patting down all my equipment as I always did,
assuring myself it was all there. I’d also brought my knife with me
tonight as soon as I heard that Bycrafts were involved.

I wasn’t sure who’d
rung me, but it was a female, her voice muffled and panicky. I
thought it might have been Kym Lebutt, sister to Jake’s estranged
wife, Chantelle. Kym lived with her other sister, Dorrie, and her
mother, Cheryl. She had two children to Jake’s brother, Tommy,
currently serving out his sentence for hitting and killing Nana
Fuller in his car. The Lebutts and the Bycrafts were intricately
linked in multiple, often confusing, genealogical ways.

I led Baz up the
rickety stairs of the timber house to the spongy boards of their
front verandah. Angry male voices greeted us, accompanied by the
shrill shrieks of Hell’s Hound, Lola herself.

Something fragile
broke.

I banged on the open
front door to no avail, just dodging a flying boot at the last
minute.

“
Police!” Baz boomed into the maelstrom.
“
Police!
”

Not receiving any kind
of response from that, he inclined his head at me. I nodded curtly
and stepped over the threshold, my hand on my gun. Bycrafts weren’t
usually inclined to own guns, but since Red had been put away, I
figured his pissy little pink-handled gun had been handed on to one
of his brothers. Having felt the pain of a shot from it before, I
wasn’t in any hurry to repeat that situation.

The house, never the
tidiest or most hygienic place at the best of times, was a wreck.
Broken furniture littered the hallway, which Baz and I had to step
over. We advanced towards the door of the lounge room, from where
most of the noise, apart from the bawling of a dozen Bycraft brats,
emerged.

In the lounge room,
cousins Rick and Mark were at each other’s throats. Rick sported a
black eye and a split lip. Mark appeared to be missing a chunk of
hair and blood trickled from his left ear.

“
Hey!
Break it up,” I shouted, running to the struggling men, attempting
to separate them.

“
Grab
one. I’ll grab the other,” Baz ordered.

I moved to the back of
Rick and wrapped my arms under his armpits, my hands clamped on to
his shoulders. I pulled him back with a huge exertion, while Baz
did the same with Mark.

We managed to separate
them briefly, before Rick threw himself on Mark again, ripping free
from my restraining arms. As I manoeuvred to assert my hold on him
again, Lola rushed in, pummelling me on the back.