Blood Tears (26 page)

“
Oh.
I’m sure they’ll be pleased to hear that. They’ll be able to plan
his funeral now.”

“
Speaking of the funeral, it’s been confirmed that Red, Tommy,
Karl and Ritchie Bycraft have all been approved for release to
attend. A foursome of felonious fuckwits, if I ever heard of
one.”

“
I
don’t know what they’re thinking letting Red out of jail to attend.
It’s insanity. He’s an escapee. He can’t be trusted for a
second.”

“
It’s
those fucking do-gooders in the bureaucracy. Soft hearts to match
their soft brains and soft cocks.”

“
I
hope they’re sending enough Corrective Services staff to accompany
them.”

“
Probably not. Probably just going to send one dopey,
arse-scratching bastard to look after all four of them. I’m telling
you this because I want you and Maguire to be on alert from now
until the funeral. And Tess . . .”

“
Yes,
ma’am?”

“
You
will not go to that funeral.”

“
I
am
going to Denny’s funeral.”

“
I am
giving you a direct order that you will not attend that
funeral.”

“
You
can’t give me orders about things I do in my own private time,” I
said defiantly.

“
You
won’t be on your own private time. You will be working that day,
and you will stay away from that funeral. Do I make myself
clear?”

“
But,
ma’am, I –”

“
Do I
make myself fucking clear?”

“
All
I want to do is –”

“
Do I make myself fucking clear?
”

I stood. “Perfectly
clear.”

“
Good. Sod off back home.”

Without another word, I
spun, and stormed out of her office. On my way out, I saw Blondie
in the foyer, talking to the duty sergeant at the desk. It might
have just been my imagination, but her figure looked a little
fuller, and her face carried an air of contentment. Maybe even
smugness.

Big deal
, I
thought sourly. It was just having a baby. Thousands of women did
it every day. I could have a baby too, if I wanted.
But not with
Jake
, I told myself. No, not with Jake.

Despite what the Super
had just told me to do, I chose to stick to my original plan.
Before I headed home, I’d take a spin past the address that Annabel
had given me where she’d lived with the gang.

It turned out to be
situated in a semi-industrial suburb, surrounded by small factories
and businesses, and with no near residential neighbours. It was a
location for which Merrick had probably specifically looked when
renting. A fairly large, two-storey, rather dilapidated old house,
it contained not one redeeming feature saving itself from its own
external ugliness.

As I cruised past it, I
decided to have a quick poke around to satisfy myself that Merrick
and his gang had indeed moved on. I pulled over to the curb and
parked. I wasn’t worried about leaving the Land Rover with its
broken locks in this neighbourhood, figuring that if someone stole
it, they’d be doing me a favour. I might get some money back on
insurance.

Although it wasn’t my
case, and I knew the Super would be apoplectic if she ever found
out I hadn’t returned immediately to Little Town, I continued my
quest.
Just a little look around
, I promised myself,
and
then I’ll go straight home
like the obedient officer I
am
.

The house had a
closed-up look about it that strongly suggested it was currently
vacant.
What misery had Annabel endured here
, I wondered
sadly. At least she was away from that creep now, and he couldn’t
hurt her anymore.

I walked up the stairs
to the verandah and peered through one of the front-facing windows.
It was grimy, so I had to clear a small patch with my hand, wiping
the dirt on my cargo pants afterwards.

The house was dark
inside, and it took me a little while to realise I was looking in
at what appeared to be the lounge room. A motley collection of
shabby furniture remained
in situ
– perhaps the house had
come furnished? Or perhaps they’d taken off in a real hurry?

I tried the handle of
the front door, more out of habit than any expectation it would
open. But, to my surprise, the knob twisted obligingly under my
hand. Perhaps they really had left in such a hurry that they’d
forgotten to lock it.

Hmm, I should
probably make sure everything was okay inside
, I rationalised
to myself, knowing full well that the Sarge would not be impressed
with that decision. This was exactly how careless police officers
got themselves into a whole lot of hot water, particularly when
they had no back up, and nobody knew where they were.

I pushed open the door
cautiously, pulling out my gun.
No point in being unprepared for
the worst
, I thought. I stepped into the lounge room, to be met
by a musty smell that spoke of a house that had been locked up for
weeks. Empty food wrappers and cans were scattered about on various
surfaces, but apart from that, there were no signs that the house
was occupied.

Relaxing a little, I
stepped through an arched doorway into the kitchen. It didn’t
appear that housekeeping was one of the things Merrick had taught
his gang members, because they’d left quite a mess behind.
Mouldering food sat on dirty bench tops, and it didn’t look as
though the stovetop had been cleaned for months. A vile smell
emanated from the switched off fridge, which on investigation
turned out to be some chicken that had been left on a plate, and
had since turned putrid.

“
Gross,” I muttered to myself, hastily shutting the door and
trying not to puke.

A door from the kitchen
opened on to an equally messy dining room, with two bedrooms, and a
grotty bathroom completing the ground floor.

A staircase led up to
the first floor. I stood looking up at it, trying to decide whether
or not to keep going. It was more than obvious that the gang had
abandoned the house weeks ago.

Oh, what the hell.
In for a penny, in for a pound
. Five more minutes wasn’t going
to make much of a difference to when I arrived back in Little
Town.

Halfway up the stairs,
a scuffling noise from above froze me in my spot. I stayed
motionless, ears straining, tightening my grip on my gun. The noise
repeated, more distinctive this time.

“
Police!” I said loudly. “Show yourself.”

The scuffling suddenly
stopped, and silence enveloped the house again. But I couldn’t
escape the feeling that someone was listening intently – much as I
was doing at that same moment.

“
Police,” I repeated. “Show yourself now.”

I crept up a few more
stairs, trying to determine from which room the sound had come.

With no warning, a
figure holding something dashed from one of the rooms and flew down
the stairs, bowling me over. I tumbled backwards, bouncing down the
staircase to come to a hard stop on the landing, my gun flying out
of my hand.

With no time to think
about the pain, I scrambled to my feet, picked up my gun, and
chased after the fleeing man.

It was Merrick.

He ran through the
ground floor to the back of the house.

“
Hey,
stop!” I yelled.

He flung open the back
door and disappeared. I pounded after him only to spot him climbing
into a car, reversing carelessly, and speeding down the side
driveway.

“
Damn!” I cried out. I ran down the side after him, watching
helplessly as he drove away.

I sprinted to my 4WD
and turned the key, only to have the engine fail to catch.

“
Shit, shit, shit!
” I shouted in frustration, banging
my fists on the steering wheel.

I had no choice but to
watch Merrick driving off in the same muddy brown bomb he’d driven
to Little Town.

I whipped out my phone
and rang Mr X, not catching him, but leaving a message. Then to be
sure someone received it, I left a message for Zelda too. And then,
just to be really safe, I rang the Super, but was diverted to her
voicemail where, muttering under my breath about people who never
answer their frigging phones, also left her a message. I wanted to
stress the importance of keeping Annabel safe now that I’d seen
Merrick still hanging around in Big Town.

Muttering more than a
few choice swear words, I stepped out of the Land Rover and
returned to the house. If I couldn’t have the man in hand, at least
I could try to discover what he’d been doing back here when it was
clear he and his gang had moved on from this house, if not this
town.

Upstairs, I entered the
room from which he’d run, not knowing what to expect to find
inside. What had he been doing in a house that he’d vacated? Had he
accidently left something behind when they moved? Was he hiding
something? Or retrieving something?

It was a bedroom, and
like all the other rooms in the house, it was messy. The double bed
remained unmade, the sheets giving off the sour smell of stale
sweat. There didn’t appear to be any personal items left behind,
but the door of a large, rickety wardrobe was wide open.

Curious, I looked
inside. The only thing it contained was a disreputable, moth-eaten
jacket as eccentric as the one Merrick had worn on his visit to the
station. Surely he hadn’t returned to retrieve
that
?

It was then I noticed
something lying on the bottom of the wardrobe. I leaned down to
pick up two photos that appeared to have fallen out of a box or an
envelope.

When I turned them
over, I realised why it had been so important for Merrick to come
back for them. The two photos that he’d dropped each contained
extremely explicit photos of him engaging in sexual acts with a
teenager. In one photo, the girl was easily recognisable as
Annabel.

God, what a
pervert
, I thought, disgusted. To not only force these runaways
to ‘keep him happy’ or be turfed out, he had to document the abuse
as well. Yep, he was definitely a pervert, but he wasn’t a smart
pervert, because he was clearly identifiable in each photo. I
didn’t think evidence came much more incriminating than that.

What I should have done
at that point was return to the Big Town police station and hand
the photos over to Mr X and Zelda. But I couldn’t risk the Super’s
wrath again, and when I checked my watch, I realised I’d taken much
longer on my visit to Big Town than I’d ever intended. So instead
of going back to their station, I decided to go back to my station,
and ring the dees from that safe distance.

It was only after I
managed to get the Land Rover started and drove off that I realised
that once again, I’d failed to get the number plate of Merrick’s
car. Not that I suspected it would make much difference – he
probably had fake plates, or had the car registered in a false name
and address.

On the drive home, I
puzzled over why Merrick had left the photos in the house when
they’d taken everything else. Had he forgotten about them in the
rush to move, and panicked when he discovered he didn’t have them
with him? It seemed odd.

I’d reached about
halfway home when the Land Rover started spluttering again.

“
Oh,
no,” I groaned, willing it to keep going just long enough to make
it back to Little Town.

But when it began to
screech and shudder, steam pouring from the engine, I was forced to
pull over to the side of the road. I got out and propped opened the
bonnet, but as I knew virtually nothing about engines, I only ended
up staring at it in useless ignorance.

I was just considering
kicking the tyres a few times to ease my frustration, and perhaps
optimistically and magically get it working again, when a ute
pulled up behind me. I watched as a portly, middle-aged man hauled
himself from behind the steering wheel. Hurriedly, I leaned over to
shove the photos into the glove box. No need for a member of the
public to be subjected to that kind of thing.

“
Trouble, love?” he asked with a genial smile.

“
Yep.
My Land Rover decided it didn’t want to go any further,” I told him
with a wry smile.

He patted the side of
the vehicle. “This one’s old.”

“
I
think it’s on its last legs. Or last wheels, I should probably
say.”

He laughed. “Let’s have
a look at it.”

“
You
know engines?”

“
I
know a little about them, but I’m no mechanic.”

“
That’s a shame. I’m pretty sure that’s what I need right
now.”

He eyeballed me
curiously, taking in my uniform. “So, off to work, are you?”

“
Nah.
I’m returning from some police business in Wattling
Bay.”

He gave the Land Rover
the once-over. “Doesn’t look like any patrol car I’ve ever
seen.”

I smiled.
“Unfortunately, this is my own vehicle. My sergeant wouldn’t let me
take the patrol car in case he needed it back in town.”

He peered at the engine
for a few minutes. “Like I said, love, I’m no expert, but even I
can tell that your radiator’s rooted.”

I groaned. “That sounds
expensive.”

“
Isn’t everything to do with a car?” He patted the Land Rover
again. “This beauty’s not going anywhere. You’re going to need a
tow truck or a mobile mechanic.”

“
Just
great.”

“
Where were you headed? I might be able to give you a
lift.”

“
Mount Big Town.” He gazed at me blankly. “It’s up on the
Coastal Range. At the foot of Mount Big.”