Cold Deception (7 page)

Drugs and poverty. The two facts of life that would keep the police in business forever.

“She’s not in trouble. I ran into her a few days ago and she told me something that could be related to O’Reardon.”

“Yeah? I didn’t think she was a user.”

He shook his head. “She’s not. It’s about the night she was arrested. She said she was assaulted in the cells and the woman next to her raped.”

Pringle grimaced, his dark eyes flat with anger.

“Sounds like his MO. Although no one ever accused him of rape.” He picked up a paper clip and slowly unwound it. “Is she willing to make a statement?”

“I didn’t ask her, but I doubt it. She’s not a woman who’d give much assistance to the police.

Pringle snorted. “I don’t suppose she would.” He shot a sharp look at Dylan. “Why’d she tell you?”

Dylan ran his hand through his hair and contemplated what to say. He had nothing to be ashamed of. He’d helped her for God’s sake. But lusting after someone so obviously distressed didn’t sit well with him.

“She was having a panic attack up at the Council offices. I made her sit and breathe. Told me I reminded her of someone. Turned out to be O’Reardon.”

“The only thing you two have in common is your size.” The paper clip now straightened, he threw it onto the desk. “Do you know who else was arrested that night besides Julia Taylor?”

Dylan nodded. “Vanessa Hunt.”

Pringle groaned. “Now, why does that not surprise me?” He pushed himself away from his desk and stood. “Where is she now?”

“She got out of Dillwynia a couple of months ago. Haven’t come across her yet but it’ll be only a matter of time.” He hesitated. “I want to talk to Julia again. Thing is, she hinted at something to do with his ‘business’ interests. I think she knows he’s behind the drug trade into the prison. I might be able to convince her to make a statement.”

Dylan felt the searching gaze of Pringle study him.

“She was an attractive young woman I seem to recall. No doubt she still is.”

Dylan took in a deep breath. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Keep away from damsels in distress. She has a family who can look after her.”

Heat crept up the back of Dylan’s neck. He stood and faced the older man. “I know that. I’m not interested in her that way.”

“You’re not interested in anyone that way.” He threw his arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s get some lunch. You know my wife is threatening to invite you to one of her famous dinner parties?”

Dylan started at his boss in horror. “No! No. You can’t let her do that.”

“Not up to me, son. Ever since she convinced herself she played successful matchmaker for Jared and Suzi, she’s got it in her head she needs to make sure all the single officers under my command get the benefit of her skills. I’d start dating someone if I were you.”

Dylan grimaced. He’d been out of the dating game since Melanie’s death. Although they’d split up months before she died, he couldn’t bring himself to enter into that part of his life again. Better to have an occasional weekend in Sydney, pick up a woman wanting sex and only sex, and forget about anything else. He was bad luck when it came to anything more intimate.

“It’s not that easy,” he muttered.

“It never is. Not even after thirty years of marriage.” He paused, a ruminative frown on his face. “Might be a good idea to call up Taylor and Hunt’s files. See if there’s any paperwork that might be useful. You never know. O’Reardon might’ve stuffed something up. Come on, food awaits.”

Dylan followed Pringle out of his office and thrust away thoughts of smooth, creamy skin and haunted eyes.

“How’d you go Gaz? Did you pick up the stuff?”

“All in the basement, boss. Good quality too. That new bloke down at Fairfield knows what he’s doing.”

Angus O’Reardon regarded him with distaste. Gary was becoming a problem. He’d let himself go, allowing alcohol and gambling to rule his life. He was drunk already and what looked like food stains, probably from the meat pies he was so fond of, trailed down his shirt.

O’Reardon didn’t let anyone or anything rule his life. Once you allowed an external force to dominate you, you were fucked. Time and time again he’d seen men lose their focus and control because they’d given their power away. He’d almost done it himself, getting lost in the joy of inflicting pain on others, seeing their fear and vulnerability. But he’d pulled back before he ruined his life. No, instead of being the instrument of pain, he let others do his work.

“Good. Get the others onto it. Had a call from out Canowindra way. Some blokes out there looking for some product. We should be able to do a run by the end of the week.”

He turned back to the paperwork on his desk and frowned. His legitimate business interests needed his attention. Something didn’t add up between the amount of alcohol they’d ordered in and what they were selling. He was being ripped off and he had a fair idea by who. Idiot. No one got away with conning Angus O’Reardon.

“Sure, boss, I’ll get onto it. Rez is in town looking for some extra cash. You know he’s going around with that Taylor girl? Julia’s sister.” Gary hesitated, as if deciding what more to say.

“Yeah?” He didn’t have time to listen to one of Gary’s pathetic stories of big-noting himself with the locals, although anything about the Taylor girls was worth listening to. He rustled his papers and turned on his computer. He’d have to give some thought about what to do about old Gaz.

“Ran into Julia at Wentworth Falls a few days ago. She’d just got out. Was with that dyke her mother lives with.’

A sliver of unease trickled down O’Reardon’s spine. So she was back. Didn’t necessarily mean anything. She made her choices for God-only-knows-what reason ten years ago. She’d never said anything about that night. In fact, she’d never said anything much about the whole matter. He was grateful she’d gone a bit loopy because it gave him the chance to look after another aspect of his growing business interests. Thankfully, he shut down that particular stream when he realized it was too risky. And frankly, even for him, distasteful. That priest was seriously fucked up.

But she was unfinished business and he didn’t like anything he couldn’t control. If she decided to tell the truth after all these years, someone else might start asking questions.

“What’d you say to her?”

Gary shrugged. “Just that we had other business interests now.” He paused again.

There was something up, something O’Reardon sensed he didn’t want to mention.

“The thing is, she knows about the supply into jail.”

O’Reardon stilled. “Anything else?”

“I think she knows about Ingram.”

O’Reardon swore. “What did you say to her?”

Randle shrugged. “That she better not say anything to anyone or her family could get hurt.”

“How’d she take that?”

He shrugged again.

“I need to know, Gary. Is she going to be trouble?’

He ducked his head and shifted on his feet. “She was angry.”

Great. Just great. “Angry enough to tell anyone?”

“Maybe.”

O’Reardon lumbered to his feet and moved to the front of the desk. Grabbing Randle’s shirt front he slammed him against the wall.

“You idiot. Your big-noting has got me into quite a bit of trouble over the years. You need to get control of yourself. Smarten up or get lost. I can’t afford your fuck ups anymore.”

He let go of Randle’s shirt.

“Get her in here. We need to have a little chat. She needs to understand just exactly what would happen if she told anyone.”

He glanced toward the safe. He’d kept the DVD in case the person who really knew what happened to the priest started making trouble. But it wouldn’t hurt to tell a little white lie. Make the Taylor woman believe her worst fears could be realized.

He smiled. Good times ahead.

*

The next day as she walked down Katoomba Street, Julia’s heart started a panicky tattoo again. In all the drama of Blossom and Rez, she’d forgotten about being in the world. Apart from her brief visit to Cafe Zuppa and coffee with Sally, this was the first time she’d walked down the main street in ten years. It hadn’t changed much. Not really. Maybe more people, different shops, and a remarkable number of cafes, but there was still a sense of grunge about the place.

Jail didn’t mean she was completely cut off from the outside world. Far from it. There was always a TV on somewhere, either in someone’s cell or in the main living area. Most of the time the noise drove her mad. Newspapers were available. Lots of women came into custody on short sentences then left and came back again. She knew about the Global Financial Crisis and how it affected communities. Katoomba didn’t look like it was immune. There were a few empty shops and more people who looked like they were struggling.

Pulling her coat around her, she headed down the hill to get a newspaper. With a growing sense of dread, she spied Nessa swaying in the wind just near the entrance to the newsagency.

“Hey,” Julia said, softly. “How’re you going?”

Nessa turned, her eyes unfocused and glassy. She smiled widely and threw her arms around Julia.

“Jules! When’d you get out? We should celebrate!”

Julia found herself holding Nessa up as she lost her balance. Struggling with an almost dead weight, she propped her against the wall.

“A few days ago. Are you okay, hon? Do you want me to call anyone? You don’t look too good.”

Nessa smiled again like a dreamy two year old. “No one to call, Jules. Not anymore.” She cackled which made her double over into a coughing fit. Straightening she peered at Jules. “Can you lend me some cash, Jules? I can pay you back. Just need to get some ciggies. I get paid tomorrow.”

Julia's heart sank. She wasn’t prepared for this. Apart from the fact she only had a few dollars on her, she didn’t know what she should do. The money didn’t matter. If she gave it to Nessa she knew she’d never see it again but she hated to think Nessa would use it for more drugs which, inevitably, she would.

“I’ve only got a few bucks on me, Nessa. Where’re you staying?”

“Houso have got me on a waiting list. Should get something soon. I’m in the hotel up on the highway.”

Julia knew the place. Dee told her the housing crisis meant down and out people like Nessa either slept rough or got seven days of emergency housing at a hotel. What happened after that was anyone’s guess, but from the look of Nessa she’d be heading back to jail sooner rather than later.

“What about Vinnies or the Salvos? Can they help you out?”

She sneered. “Sour faced bitches. Took one look at me and threatened to call the police. Won’t be going back there again.”

Julia thought there was probably more to it than that, having once seen Nessa go berserk after a drop of ice hit the jail. Her mind made up, she took out her wallet and gave her ten dollars.

“Don’t get pissed off with me, but use it to buy food. You need to start looking after yourself.”

Nessa peered at her again and for a moment her eyes were clear and sharp. “You’re a soft touch, Julia. Always have been.” She grasped Julia’s hand and smiled a sweet, sad smile. “You look after yourself. Don’t let those bastards get you down.” She jerked her head over to a car parked on the other side of the road. Dylan sat in the front seat staring at her. Another cop was beside him.

Great. Just great. He probably thinks I’ve just scored.

Nessa let go of her hand and shuffled off up the street. Julia stared after her, sudden tears blurring her vision. Once Nessa had been young and full of life. Ten years of being yoked to Angus O’Reardon had done their damage. She’d be lucky to see another ten years.

She felt rather than saw Dylan stand beside her.

“She has a couple of kids, did you know that?” she said, turning to him. “God knows where they are because she doesn’t. Probably in some foster home somewhere waiting to become the next round of drug fodder.”

She brushed the tears from her eyes and went to push past him.

“Julia. I need to talk to you.”

She stopped and frowned at him. “About what?”

“The night you were arrested. You said you were assaulted.”

She shrugged. “Forget it. It was a long time ago.”

“I know who it was. He’s bad news. We need to stop him. And I’m guessing you know a lot more about his activities in prison than most people.”

She stared at him as a shiver went through her body.

“No. I can’t help you. I don’t want to be part of that world again. I won’t.”

“Then I’m right? He is behind the drug trade into prison?”

She shrugged. “So what if he is? If it isn’t him it’d be someone else.”

She stepped into the shop and picked up a newspaper, all the time aware of Dylan at the entrance staring at her intently. She took the paper to the counter and fished out some coins from her wallet.

“Don’t come back again.”

Her head snapped up. “What? What did you say?”

The man behind the counter glared at her with hard, accusing eyes.

“Don’t come back in here again. I don’t need your type in my shop. And keep your drug deals away from Katoomba Street or I’ll be calling him myself.” He jerked his head toward Dylan.

She grabbed her paper as a cold, bitter tightness settled in her bones. This is what her life would be like. Mel at the motor registry was the exception. This was real.

She passed Dylan still standing at the entrance of the shop. Holding up her hand as if to ward him off, she shook her head, unable to speak.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” he asked, following her down the street.

“Get away from me,” she croaked. “Leave me alone.”

She broke into a run, wanting to leave him, wanting to leave everything behind. When she got to the end of the street, she stopped and caught her breath.

She would not be defeated. If she let herself fall into despair, she’d become like Nessa. That wasn’t an option. Turning, she stared up Katoomba Street and watched the flow of people as they went in and out of shops, got into their cars, waited for buses. This was her home. She would make it her home again.

As she stood pondering her next move, she saw Dylan had followed her down the hill. He slowly walked toward her as she stood, still panting from her sudden run.

“What was that all about?” he asked, a hard glint in his eyes.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself about,” she said, preparing to brush past him.

“You were upset.”

She looked into his face with curiosity then shrugged. “The life of an ex-crim. People generally don’t like us.”

He caught her arm as she walked away. “Was Vanessa Hunt in the cell next to you the night you were arrested? Is she the one who was raped?”

She stilled and turned to face him.

“Why do you ask? What does it matter? It was a long time ago.” She shook off his arm. “Did you think I was scoring from her?”

He shook his head impatiently. “You assume I think the worst of you. I don’t. I just need to know about Nessa.”

She turned to face him fully, a swirl of indignation coursing through her. “You were happy to think the worst of me the first time we met. Didn’t you say something about being judge, jury, and executioner? Sounds pretty bad to me.”

He shifted from foot to foot, looking abashed, which surprised her.

“It was a bad day. Dealing with Bloss and that waste of space she calls her boyfriend put me in a bad mood.”

“Are you apologising?”

“Yes,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “Yes, I am.”

Taken aback, she found herself lost for words.

“Okay then,” she said finally. “Apology accepted. I have to go now.”

“Can you tell me about Nessa? About that night? About O’Reardon?”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t go there again. You understand that, don’t you? I just want to leave it all behind me.”

He let out a noise of frustration. “Sure I understand, but it’s not just about you is it? O’Reardon hurts a lot of people. You could help us stop all that. Isn’t that important?”

“He’s dangerous. I can’t take that risk. Don’t make me.”

He lifted his arm as if to touch her with reassurance, but changed his mind, a stricken look on his face.

“I wouldn’t make you do something you didn’t want to do.”

She stared at the hard planes of his face, his tousled black hair and those compelling gray eyes, and let herself want him, just for a moment.

She sighed. This man was not for her. Not now, not ever.

She shook herself and smiled at him. “I know you believe that,” she said, softly. “But I can’t take that chance.”

He opened his mouth to say more, but she turned and walked away. She felt the heat from his eyes on her back as she made her way back up the hill. Back to real life.