Shattered (15 page)

It was quite a few minutes before Gemma thought to pull off the road. Shakily, she dragged her jeans back on, and, screwing up the flimsy gown Gretel had given her, threw it into the back of the car, replacing it with her shirt and jacket. She sat in the relative silence of the bushland, aware of cars occasionally whizzing past. When she’d calmed down, she rang Angie.

‘Indecent assault,’ said Angie as she listened. ‘Report the bastard!’

‘He’ll deny it. Say it was accidental. Say I’m imagining things, trying to make trouble for him. But I’m determined now to get Grace out of there. I saw her, Angie. I swear it was Grace. She looked drugged. Or spaced out or something. God knows what else goes on there.’

‘Gemster, she’s free and white and over twenty-one. You can’t save people from themselves. If your sister has made a decision to join The Group, maybe she’s happy with the grope or whatever goes on.’

‘Angie, what if she’s not? You know how these groups operate. They foster dependency, they cut people off from their normal networks. Grace may not even have any money.’ Gemma realised she was almost in tears.

‘Take it easy, hon,’ said Angie. ‘You’ve got to look after yourself.’

‘Things are getting to me lately,’ said Gemma. ‘I get tearful over things that wouldn’t have bothered me before. Once I would have just decked someone like Stark.’

‘From what you told me,’ said Angie, ‘I thought that’s exactly what you did.’

‘I mean
decked.
Really knocked him down,’ Gemma explained. ‘Not just shoved him away. Hang on.’

She fished a tissue out of her bag and blew her nose. ‘I’ve been in far worse situations than this and laughed them off. Now, some dickhead goes the grope and I fall over. I wonder if it’s the pregnancy making me so sensitive – or if it’s something else.’

‘
Like what?’

‘I catch myself wondering what it’s all about. My life, I mean. I’m just making enough money to get by as it is. God knows how I’m going to manage with a baby, despite Mr Howard’s dollars.’ She sighed before continuing. ‘Every day I get up and do the same old things. When I was younger, I used to wonder how to make a life for myself.’

‘You just get up in the morning and you do it,’ said Angie. ‘Life happens to you.’

‘That works for a while,’ Gemma agreed. ‘I joined the police because it seemed like a different and interesting career with good money to start – and that worked for a while. Then I set up my own business – and
that
worked for a while. Now I’ve got this baby coming .
 
.
 
. I guess what I’m fearing is that it’ll work – for a while.’ Gemma paused a moment. ‘I see now that I’ve always used goals to pull myself along, to make it worthwhile getting up in the morning. But I can’t be using this baby as some sort of carrot to drag me through the rest of my life. That wouldn’t be fair to the baby, Angie; that would mean the baby is carrying something that’s mine. Once this baby comes, I won’t be able to work. At least not for a while. How am I going to pay the bills?’

She rang off, frowning. Where in hell had all
that
come from?

•

An hour later, just as she was about to turn left off the freeway for the northern suburbs of Sydney, her mobile rang.

It was a few moments before she could identify Natalie, because of the high-pitched edge to her voice.

‘I’ll be there as fast as I can, Natalie. Just hang on. Okay?’

•

Natalie, her face blotchy with crying, opened the door of her house and let Gemma in. ‘Thanks for coming,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how long she’s been gone. I didn’t know where else to turn.’

Gemma followed Natalie past the living room and down the hallway towards the rear of the house and a closed door with a hand-lettered sign stuck on it: ‘Jade’s room: Keep out.’ Natalie pushed the door open and Gemma entered the room.

‘I came in here just a while ago and this is what I found. Here. Read it for yourself.’

Gemma took the envelope from Natalie’s shaking hands. It wasn’t addressed to anyone and she pulled out the note and read it.

‘I can’t stand being here a moment longer,’ Jade had written. ‘And you know why. Don’t go looking for me because I won’t come back. It’s time I left. Goodbye.’

Gemma looked up from her reading. ‘What does she mean: “you know why”?’ she asked.

‘No idea,’ said Natalie quickly.

‘When did you find this?’

‘Just before I rang you. When I came home from the hospital. It was lying on the bed. She’s only taken an overnight bag. She’s got a few hundred dollars saved in her account. God knows what she intends to do. She’s a child! Where will she go?’ Natalie sank onto the unmade bed. ‘I can’t believe what’s happening to my family. It’s like living in a nightmare. I know I should have tried harder to talk to Jade about what’s happened. But I’ve been so preoccupied with Donny, and she’s been so difficult the last couple of months. Whenever I tried to talk to her, to be with her, she wouldn’t let me.’

‘I’ll do what I can to find her and bring her home safely,’ said Gemma, touched by Natalie’s grief, sitting beside her and slipping an arm around her shoulders. ‘I know this is a dreadful time for your family. Have you any idea where she might go?’

Natalie shook her head. ‘No one’s heard from her. I tried my mother in case Jade had gone over to her place, but Mum hasn’t seen her for weeks.’

‘What about school friends?’

‘I’ve already rung them. She has two close friends but she hasn’t spoken to them for ages, they said. And she hasn’t been going to school lately anyway. The girls have no idea where she might be.’

‘Does she have a boyfriend?’ Gemma asked, looking around the room, picking up what she could about the runaway, letting the decor and artefacts speak about the missing girl.

‘No,’ said Natalie.

Framed school awards indicated that Jade was a conscientious and creative student. Her art and craft work were in evidence, and Gemma’s attention was taken by a beautiful piece of embroidery, the attached certificate revealing that it was part of Jade’s School Certificate art prac. It depicted the prince trying Cinderella’s glass slipper on her dainty foot, done in silks and other fine fabrics, the glass slipper made of delicate beadwork. She noticed, too, that gold and crystal Venetian glass drops, similar to those that formed the necklace Bettina Finn had worn, had been worked into the collage. Bryson Finn had clearly given his daughter Venetian glass gifts too. Gemma thought of something.

‘Did Bryson give Jade a Venetian glass heart?’

‘I think so. I know he gave her a necklace just like Bettina’s, only with smaller beads. She dismantled it for that embroidery piece. You can see the beads there.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ Gemma said, forgetting for a moment the drama of the situation. ‘She has a real gift.’ Another question occurred to her. ‘What did Bryson buy for you?’

Natalie frowned. ‘Why on earth do you want to know that?’

‘Just curious.’

‘It was a necklace, with bigger beads than Bettina’s, but much the same gold leaf and crystal effect.’

‘I’d like to see it,’ said Gemma.

‘Not now, Gemma. I don’t even know where I put it. It’s probably still in a box somewhere.’

‘Another time.’ Gemma smiled, bringing her focus back to the teenage girl’s bedroom.

The phone rang and Natalie left the room, leaving Gemma to look around. It was messy, with books lying open on the carpet and magazines in crooked piles. School banners and certificates cluttered the wall space and the small, heart-shaped dressing table was covered with lipsticks, cosmetic pencils and creams for pimples.

Gemma searched for a diary to no avail. But there was a mobile phone number tucked into the mirror and she noted it down.

‘I hoped that might have been Jade on the phone.’ Natalie gripped her tissue hard so that her knuckles showed white. ‘What about her father’s funeral? And Bettina’s? Is she going to come to them? I’ll never forgive her for this, for what she’s putting me through.’

‘She’s not thinking straight,’ said Gemma. ‘Call Angie. Get the police involved. She’s probably regretting what she’s done already.’

‘I’ve rung Angie, straight after I rang you,’ said Natalie. ‘But you know what the police are like. There’s nothing they can really do about runaway kids.’

‘I’ll call in everyone and everything I know,’ said Gemma. ‘I’ll find her for you, Natalie.’

On the doorstep, Gemma turned to Natalie.

‘Where was Jade the night of the murders?’

‘Jade? Here, of course. In her room. As far as I know. I tried to ring her from the hospital, but she never answers the phone, not even her mobile, if she knows it’s me.’

Sitting in her car outside, Gemma made some quick notes. The night of the shootings, Natalie was at work, Donny was with Bettina, and Jade – at least according to her mother – was at home. Alone.

Taking out the mobile number she’d found on Jade’s mirror, Gemma rang it. ‘I’m busy right now,’ said a breathy, professionally sexy woman’s voice, ‘but don’t worry, your turn will come, and Bambi will take you to heaven. Leave your number and I’ll get back to you.’ Gemma rang off. This was a job for one of her male operatives.

She put her notes away. Now she wasn’t feeling so confident about the promise she’d made to Natalie. How would Natalie feel if she knew her daughter had a sex worker’s mobile number in her bedroom? Another thought struck her: what if Jade and Bambi were one and the same?

She had the names and telephone numbers of Jade’s close friends, as well as a selection of fairly recent photographs of the girl. She’d start there, she decided, as soon as she got home. Next line of inquiry would be Gerda, Naomi and Karen Lucky, the streetwise sex workers liaison officer.

•

‘Hugo,’ Gemma said, back at her flat. ‘What makes kids leave home? Remind me.’

Hugo took a deep breath. ‘Because it seems better somewhere else,’ he said. ‘Because they have a feeling that no one cares about them.’

‘What if you knew something really bad about your mother,’ Gemma asked. ‘Would you leave home?’

‘Bad like what?’

‘Bad like she’d murdered your father.’

Hugo considered. ‘Maybe he deserved to be murdered.’

‘That wasn’t really the answer I was looking for, Hugo. Forget I asked you. I guess there are lots of reasons.’

Rather than buy take-away she made them some pasta for dinner, then went into her office and called Jade’s two closest girlfriends. The first didn’t answer and the second, Alison, said yes, she’d noticed a difference in her friend over the last couple of months.

‘She was very withdrawn,’ said Alison. ‘She didn’t want to hang with us any more. I knew something was worrying her but she refused to talk about it. She’d just clam up if me or Jen asked any questions.’

Neither of them, Alison said, had any idea where she’d go. And no, she said, it wasn’t boyfriend trouble. As far as they knew, there were no boys.

Gemma looked up the number for Kings Cross police station and found Karen Lucky working a late shift. Karen remembered her and had a few moments to spare. Gemma mentioned the second runaway she was looking for and was about to launch into a long explanation but Karen beat her to it. ‘You’re going to ask me about that murdered superintendent’s daughter, aren’t you? The Finn girl?’

A noise outside proved to be Angie, stumbling down the steps from the road, balancing two large cartons.

‘That’s right,’ said Gemma, returning her attention to her phone call. ‘Jade Finn. Age sixteen.’

‘At sixteen they can legally leave home. There’s nothing much I can do for you. I’ve already spoken to Angie McDonald about it. She’s only been gone a day so far anyway, hasn’t she? I don’t know where she is.’

Gemma thanked Karen and rang off. She hoped Jade wouldn’t end up at the Cross. Kids went there, she knew, for what they thought was freedom. Easy, quick money. Thirteen dollars an hour as a junior receptionist. Eighty dollars an hour in a parlour. She raced to open the door as Angie and the two large cartons almost fell into the hallway.

‘I was just about to knock,’ said Angie, carrying the cartons down the hall. ‘Hello, Hugo. Keeping out of trouble?’

‘Why?’ said Hugo, looking guilty.

‘Put the boxes on the dining-room table,’ Gemma said. ‘My office is too cluttered.’

‘I’ve got two more in the car,’ said Angie, looking meaningfully at Hugo slumped on the couch.

The two of them returned a few moments later, each carrying a carton.

‘It’s so nice to be here,’ Angie said. ‘Work is a total madhouse. It’s ages since we’ve had a senior officer murdered like this and I’d forgotten how deranged everyone gets.’

‘Here, Hugo,’ said Gemma, pointing to the dining-room table. Angie put her carton down and hung her jacket over the back of a chair.

‘We’re interviewing Dan Galleone sometime in the next forty-eight hours,’ Angie went on, once Hugo had retreated to the TV. ‘I can organise for you to be in the crime manager’s office. That way, you can watch the monitor. Are you coming to Superintendent Finn’s funeral?’

‘What time?’

‘Ten tomorrow.’

‘Yes, I will. Natalie could do with some support.’

‘Especially now Jade’s run away,’ said Angie. ‘Was there a fight?’

Gemma shrugged. ‘You saw how it was when we were at Natalie’s place. She showed me the note Jade left. Says she hates her mother and is never coming back.’

‘Sad,’ said Angie. ‘I wonder if she knows something we don’t. That reminds me.’ She pulled an audio cassette out of her pocket. ‘Where’s your tape deck?’

Gemma indicated her cassette radio in the kitchen and Angie fetched it out and put the tape in it.

‘This is Natalie’s call to emergency services – made just after she’d arrived at the murder scene.’

Angie depressed the play button. At first, all that could be heard was the faint hum of the turning tape, then came the harsh sounds of Natalie’s sharp breathing and panicky voice.

‘Ambulance required! Hurry, please! My son is bleeding to death!’

The calm, steady voice of the operator cut in, requesting more details: that the caller identify herself, and give the address and information about the injuries. ‘How many casualties?’ asked the operator.