Missing (The Cass Lehman Series Book 3) (27 page)

‘I don’t. What I have a problem with is you not talking to any of us about your plans before you spoke to the DCIs.’

They glared at each other. Dave finally caught up to Phil and stood looking from one woman to the other. Seeing the heavy scowl lines on Phil’s face, he quickly decided to park the barrage of questions on the tip of his tongue and try a diversionary tactic instead.

‘Phil, I think the SES coordinator wants to talk to you. They’ve finished the back-right sector and they’re wondering if they should get a bulldozer to take away the top layer so they can begin working through what’s underneath.’

‘We can’t dig up the whole dump, but it might be worth taking it down a level or two and keeping the search going for a while longer. We’ve found three sets of remains, what’s to say there’s not a hell of a lot more out there?’

‘You don’t need a bulldozer unless you’re planning on going down more than three metres. The dogs can smell remains down that far,’ Maria said.

‘Three metres? Really? That’s amazing,’ Dave said.

Phil gave Maria a long, appraising look. ‘All right. We won’t bring in the bulldozers just yet. Let’s finish the full search first before we consider next steps. Where’s the SES coordinator?’

‘Waiting for you back at the manager’s office,’ Steve said.

Maria moved off to the next part of the grid with Bruno. Phil shot daggers at her back before turning towards the administration building.

‘I fuckin’ hate contractors. They think they can do whatever the hell they like and charge like wounded bulls for it. Do you know how much that dog earns per day? It’s more than three times what you and I get. Makes me think maybe I should hire myself a fucking dog costume the next time I find a body,’ Phil said.

‘You’re too good-looking to be called a dog.’

‘Jesus, Dave, do you ever stop?’ Phil threw a glare over her shoulder.

‘What?’ Dave gave her a mock wounded look. ‘Well, you’ve got to admit Bruno’s earned his doggy treats.’

Phil stopped dead, forcing Dave to turn himself inside out to stop walking into her. Steve stopped in his tracks too.

‘Who’s that?’ Phil demanded, pointing at a short, elderly woman who was standing outside the building.

‘It’s Mrs Jacobs,’ Dave said. ‘What the hell is she doing here?’

‘
The
Mrs Jacobs?’

‘The same,’ Dave said. ‘I think I’ve just entered the twilight zone.’

‘Apparently she knows the guy who runs the SES. Given the search is linked to homeless men, she wanted to help. She’s running the kitchen for the volunteers. It’s something she’s done before, says she’s used to catering for large numbers of people,’ Steve said. ‘She’s really very nice. Reckons it breaks her heart to think that someone might be targeting the same men she gives shelter to.’

Phil stared at him with her mouth open for a few moments before snapping it shut.

‘What about her son? What was his name?’ she asked.

‘Jonathan. He’s here too, handing out drinks,’ Steve said.

‘And the employee that you were talking about … the one we were going to show his picture to?’

‘Nope, none of the employees are on site today.’

‘That’s a shame, can we try to get him here?’

‘Already tried. He’s not answering his phone.’

Phil started walking again. ‘I don’t like coincidences,’ she said.

They were ten steps away from the admin building when a shout made them turn around. One of the handlers was waving in their direction. He was a big bloke, tall and bordering on the verge of fat. His dog was the spaniel and it was sitting, rooted to the spot, barking.

‘Shit, game on,’ Phil said.

She waved back at the handler and worked her way over to him. He wasn’t as far away as Maria had been, and the patch he was working was next to one of the dirt roads that crisscrossed the facility. It only took Phil a few minutes to cover the distance.

‘I’m Detective Steiner. I’m in charge here.’

‘Bruce Crompton. Nice to meet you. Josie’s got a hit.’

‘Any idea how far down?’

‘No. She can usually pick up the odour up to a couple of metres down, but with all the competing smells here I’m not so sure.’

‘Hey!’ Phil called over two of the SES volunteers who were standing a few metres away, watching. ‘Come and give us a hand, will you?’

‘I want you to work through the patch right under where the dog’s sitting. Check every bag. If you find anything, stop right away and I’ll get one of the crime-scene techs over.’

‘Hey!’ Another shout and more barking made Phil snap her head around. Another handler was waving at her and pointing towards his dog.

Two more shouts erupted as the last of the dogs began to bark.

‘You gotta be fucking kidding me.’

Dave and Steve were heading in her direction. She called out to them. ‘Dave, go organise some volunteers to search under that dog’s butt, will you?’

She looked around. Most of the activity in the dump had ceased. The volunteers were watching the action eagerly, like kids on a treasure hunt. Her eyes raked across to Maria. The woman was standing, arms folded across her chest, giving Phil another one of those smug looks.

‘Fucking hate know-it-alls,’ Phil muttered under her breath.

‘What?’ Bruce asked.

‘Nothing.’ She stood up straighter and raised her voice. ‘All right everyone. Clearly we have a big job ahead of us and we’re nowhere close to being done with this site. I can’t tell you all how much we appreciate your help. Let’s get back to work and make sure we find everything there is to be found. There are three of us on site today overseeing this search. There’s me, Detective Williams here and Detective Reynolds over there. If you find anything, call one of us over straight away. Let’s do it.’

By 3pm the dogs were done for the day and the three detectives were grouped in the admin building with some of the SES volunteers and crime-scene techs having a well-earned cup of coffee. They all wore the same hot, tired expression. Mrs Jacobs and Jonathan had packed up and left at around 2.30pm, leaving an urn and provisions for afternoon tea behind. Dave had promised to return them to her later that evening, a task that fitted nicely with his plans to show her guests some pictures of the victims.

Dave and Phil grabbed a coffee and sank into chairs with the volunteers. The SES guy in charge, Jim Lincoln, was a seasoned veteran who’d seen all sorts of action, including searches for missing persons, bushfires, post-storm clean-ups and rescue missions. Lincoln had the ruddy, weathered look of someone who spent more time outdoors than in. There wasn’t much he hadn’t done.

‘Jim, your guys are amazing. Thanks again for all your help,’ Phil said.

Jim cracked a lopsided smile. ‘Can’t say it’s the most pleasant thing we’ve ever had to do. I reckon you’ve got a right nutter on your hands this time. I’ve never seen anything like it.’ He gestured towards the temporary evidence table the crime-scene techs had set up. Clustered on the table were another six bags, the plastic sliced and peeled back to reveal the grisly contents inside.

‘Do you really think they’re all human?’

‘I hope not,’ Steve said.

‘Yeah, me too,’ Phil said. ‘But if you trust the dogs’ noses, they probably are. When we showed them the bags the volunteers found, they reacted in the way they’ve been trained to react for human remains.’

‘And the pathologist?’ Dave asked. ‘What did Sonya have to say when you told her?’

‘Her exact words? “Oh my God.”’

Phil pushed back her chair and rubbed her eyes. She rolled her neck, eliciting a series of audible cracks. She was beat. The hours spent at the dump had been followed up by more hours back at the office briefing Natalia and filling in reports. A series of half-empty coffee cups was dotted around her desk in between the piles of papers. Dave had left for Adelaide straight from the dump so it was just her and Steve again.

She looked across at her new partner. He was staring at his screen intently. She envied his ability to focus, and his stamina.
He still looked perky. She could understand why he irritated Ed so much. Ed would have looked rumpled, tired and cranky after a day like they’d just had, exactly how she was probably looking.

Steve looked up and caught her staring at him. A slight flush crept up his cheeks. While she’d been writing reports, he’d been busy doing background checks on Jonathan Jacobs and Mark Saunders.

‘I think I’ve found something interesting,’ he said.

‘Fire away. I hope it’s interesting enough to convince me one of them’s our man.’

‘Saunders spent nearly a year in a secure psychiatric unit a few years back. I called in some favours to get a look at his medical records. I’ve just been going through them. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia with entomorphagic compulsions.’

Phil rolled her eyes. ‘Jesus, Steve, the English version.’

‘He thought that eating live insects prolonged his life.’

‘Eating them alive?’ Phil screwed up her face. ‘Christ! That’s disgusting. But eating bugs is one thing. Eating a person takes a lot more effort and eating someone alive … that’s just fucked.’ She looked at the empty cups and sighed.

‘We’ll fill Dave in tomorrow morning at our scheduled catch up. Let’s hope uniform have managed to track Mark Saunders down by then. We need to ask him about his dietary habits.’

CHAPTER
30

Mrs Jacobs contemplated the contents of the chest freezer in her kitchen. Her stocks were sorely depleted. By the time she’d got back from McLaren Vale it was too late to start cooking from scratch so she’d decided to use her last batch of frozen stew.

It was getting harder and harder to feed a group of hungry men on the meagre funding she got from the government and local charities. Even the most basic vegetables were getting expensive, and she was getting too old to be trekking out to farmers’ markets.

Sometimes the stallholders at the Central Market would donate their leftover produce. The local supermarket gave her any unsold bread. Even so, stews and soups were all she could really afford to serve. Gone were the days when she could offer roast dinners on Sundays.

Maybe she’d make pies with the stew. Pies always went down well. It was already nearly 4pm. She’d have to get cracking if she was going to make pastry. The meat would take a while to defrost too. Hopefully it would be tender. The last lot had been particularly tough.

Muttering, she slid the dresser to one side and opened the door to the storeroom. With a start she realised Jonathan was standing at one of the benches.

‘Mama! I was just organising things. Don’t be mad!’ He looked at her, eyes wide. He reminded her of a startled bullock. Big, clumsy and stupid.

‘You know you’re not allowed in here without my permission. How many times do we have to go through this? Do I have to punish you again?’

‘No Mama! Please, the men aren’t here yet. I thought it would be all right.’

‘The men aren’t here but we’ve got that detective coming later to bring the urn back. I can’t have you going in and out of there whenever you like. You know what will happen if he finds out?’

‘I know.’ He looked away.

‘Well?’

‘I just wanted to help, Mama. We need more food. I thought I’d get things ready.’

‘You’re lying to me Jonathan. You’ve been in the freezer again haven’t you?’

He refused to meet her eyes.

‘I don’t understand why you want to keep going in there. You don’t even remember him. Why do you need to go in there to look at him?’

‘I do remember.’

She studied his slumped shoulders and hanging head. Maybe he did remember and staring at his father’s dead body gave him some comfort.

‘All right, as it happens, you’re right. We do have to restock. We’ll take another delivery this week. I’ll need you to help me.’

‘Yes, Mama.’

Mrs Jacobs turned back to the kitchen bench and began pulling bowls and utensils out. Jonathan stood there, staring at her back, his hands working, his mouth twisting into unspoken words.

‘Mama?’

Mrs Jacobs turned around. ‘Yes? What? Why are you still standing there?’

‘Maybe we should just order a carcass from a farmer this time? Wait until the police go away.’