Thin Blood (18 page)

“If you don’t
tell me what’s going on, what am I supposed to think? You haven’t denied it was
Craig you were talking about…” She left the words hanging.

“You don’t want
to get mixed up in this, Jacinta. Personal feelings can’t come into it. Until
we’ve completed our investigations, I strongly suggest you keep your distance
from the Edmondses.”

She straightened
her back, her stance defiant. “Not unless you can give me a damned good reason.
I’m certainly not going to abandon my friend just on your say-so.”

One eyebrow
arched. “I admire your loyalty, but you’re just going to have to take my word
for it.”

“What if I were
to tell you that Kirsty Edmonds had a lover?”

“More motive.”

“What?”

“Jealousy.”
Lowering his voice, he caught her by the arm, steering her from the hall into
an immaculate book-lined study. “Anyway, who is this lover you’re talking
about, and where did you get your information?” he said, releasing her and closing
the door.

“From the
horse’s mouth,” she said, only answering the second half of his question.
Sometimes information had to be bartered.

With a low
groan, Daniel plonked down onto the black leather swivel chair behind the
polished mahogany desk. “I’m not the enemy, you know. Surely you want to see
the killer – or killers – brought to justice as much as I do.”

“You’re starting
to sound like Grace.”

“Grace who?”

“Grace Kevron,
Kirsty’s lover.”

He stood up.
“Okay, out with it. Tell me everything, and I mean everything, and I’ll tell
you what I can.” He paused and added, “Strictly on the condition it goes no
further than this room, though.”

“You’re on,” she
said, glancing at the door, “but the others must be wondering where we’ve got
to.”

With that, there
was a light knock on the door and Wendy entered. “Oh, I’m sorry; I hope I
haven’t interrupted anything. I thought Daniel must’ve got caught up in that
phone call and lost track of time.”

Daniel laughed,
wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “You know me too well. We’re
coming right now.” Turning his head to Jacinta, he said, “We’ll continue this
later. Agreed?”

The three of
them returned to the courtyard to find Brett on his hands and knees with Flynn
astride his back. Liam had hold of his brother’s leg, trying to pull him off.
In amidst the arms, legs, giggles and giddy-ups, Brett seemed in his element.

Bracing herself
for all the baby hints he would inevitably drop in the next week or so, Jacinta
reclaimed her seat at the table. The delicious aroma of char-grilled meat and
caramelised onions wafted out from under the sheet of aluminium foil covering
the large serving platter at the end of the table. A glass bowl overflowing
with crisp green mesclun leaves and cherry tomatoes took centre stage.

While Wendy
busied herself cutting sausages into small, manageable pieces for the boys,
Daniel served the adults, heaping enough meat onto each plate to make Jacinta
think she was at a carnivore’s party. After that, with everyone more intent on
eating than talking, conversation became rather limited.

Jacinta had a
mouthful of steak when Daniel’s mobile phone buzzed, breaking the rhythmic
clank of metal cutlery against plates. She stopped chewing, looking up as
Daniel scraped his chair back, excused himself and went inside.

“You get used to
it,” Wendy said, with a forced laugh. “Off-duty is not in Daniel’s vocabulary.
Anyone for a top-up?”

Two phone calls
in less than an hour. Jacinta swallowed, absent-mindedly slicing a cherry
tomato into tiny eighths as she wondered what the new developments in the Toolangi State Forest case might be. Craig Edmonds had to be involved somehow. Why else had
Daniel warned her off? She felt the blood drain from her face as an image of
Narelle’s trusting face flashed through her mind.

A well-placed
kick under the table from Brett to her shin brought her abruptly back to the
present. Wendy was talking, but Jacinta caught only the tail end.

“…start Monday?”

Jacinta smiled
and nodded, hoping it was the appropriate response to whatever the question had
been. Stuffing a forkful of rocket leaves into her mouth circumvented any
obligation to elaborate. But she needn’t have worried. A frustrated yowl from a
restless Liam trying to wriggle out of his chair demanded all of Wendy’s
attention.

Across the
table, Brett lowered and raised his eyebrows, making faces at her.

“What?” she
mouthed back, her eyes widening in feigned innocence.

Shaking his
head, he rolled his eyes and picked up the opened bottle of Pinot Noir, topping
up the wine glasses before meeting her gaze again. She pursed her lips, sending
him an air kiss. The corners of his mouth twitched before lifting in a slow
grin.

“Sorry about
that,” announced Daniel, the kitchen door slamming shut behind him. “That
should be it for the night,” he continued, glancing at his cold, half-eaten
meal as he crouched down to see the picture book Flynn wanted to show him.

Wendy
intervened, enlisting Brett’s aid to read a bedtime story to the two boys as
she hustled them away from the table. Jacinta knew it was Wendy’s way of making
sure stepsister and stepbrother spent personal time together. Right then,
though, Jacinta was more interested in Daniel’s work than their relationship.

Daniel ate. She
talked, telling him everything she knew about Grace Kevron, starting from what
she had picked up in the trial transcript, to Grace’s over-the-top reaction to
Craig and Narelle’s marriage, to her demented phone calls, to her unannounced
visit when she claimed she and Kirsty had been lovers, and finally to Grace’s presence
at the crime scene.

When she had
finished, she sat back in her chair. Daniel continued forking cold sausage and
steak into his mouth, saying nothing for a while. Eventually, he laid his knife
and fork down together on the plate and pushed it aside.

He propped his
elbows on the table and crossed his arms. “What were you thinking, leaving it
until now to tell me?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I don’t have to tell you
that the police don’t look favourably on people who withhold vital
information.”

He silenced her
unvoiced objections with a raised finger.

“What’s done is
done, but for God’s sake, remember we’re talking life and death here, Jacinta.
It’s not a bloody game.” He sighed. “And while it may be nothing, it could also
mean the difference between a killer being caught and a killer getting away
with it.”
Again
, his half-closed eyes added silently.

“Look, I
understand where you’re coming from, but you have to see it from my point of
view, too. Initially, I was just following up on an old missing person’s story.
The trial transcript led me to Grace, but after I met her, I didn’t know what
to believe. She’s not exactly all there. I didn’t want to be accused of wasting
police time.”

Whether Daniel
believed her motives or not didn’t matter. She had fulfilled her side of the
bargain.

Jacinta ran her fingers through her
hair, tugging at the roots. Daniel, she discovered, had the art of saying a lot
without revealing much of anything down pat. “I’m confused. You’re telling me
that DNA tests showed the remains weren’t Kirsty Edmonds; that no firearms are,
or have ever been registered, to Craig Edmonds; and that in fact you have
nothing linking the Toolangi bodies with him. Yet you’re rechecking all the old
Edmonds case notes.”

“We have to
explore every avenue. I’m sure you’ve heard the old line about everyone being a
suspect until they can be ruled out.”

Exactly
,
she thought,
an old line
. “But you haven’t told me a damned thing I
didn’t already know.”

“I wish I had
more, but,” he paused, presenting his palms in an open shrug, “I can’t tell you
what I don’t know.”

Fed up with
talking in circles, she tried another tack. “Let’s say – only hypothetically
speaking, mind you – that Craig Edmonds is a serious suspect in these killings.
Shouldn’t you be doing something to protect his wife? She’s pregnant, for God’s
sake!”

His eyes
narrowed into tiny slits, logging the news of Narelle’s pregnancy.
“Hypothetically speaking, we would probably keep both of them under
surveillance. She’s survived all these years without incident, so we wouldn’t
be unduly concerned, unless something was to happen where we thought she,” he
paused for effect, stressing the next word, “
and
her unborn child might
be at risk.”

“What could
happen?”

He shook his
head, pouting his lips. “Nothing or anything.”

Jacinta glared
at him, fighting the urge to reach out, grab him by the ears and shake his head
until something fell out.

The doorbell
saved Daniel, giving him a temporary reprieve. Still refusing to admit defeat,
she trailed a few paces behind as he opened the door to DS Renee White.

“You weren’t
answering your phone.” Daniel patted his pockets as the DS continued. “Craig
Edmonds is threatening to jump from the top of that multi-storey car park in—”

Daniel stepped
outside and pulled the door behind him, leaving less than a one-centimetre gap.
Despite that and the detectives’ hushed tones, by edging closer to the door,
Jacinta heard nearly everything they said.

“Somehow the
media found out about that credit card we found, put two and two together, and
confronted Craig Edmonds at work.”

Daniel cursed.

“The news seems
to have sent him over the edge. He’s that drunk he can barely stand. There’s a
team there now, trying to talk some sense into him. His wife is being picked up
as we speak,” said DS White.

Jacinta’s breath
caught in her throat, her exasperation with Daniel lost in her immediate
concern for Narelle. Alternatively gnawing her bottom lip and running her
fingernails back and forth across her top teeth, she racked her brain, trying
to think what she should do.

“Give me a
minute,” said Daniel, shoving the door open and only just missing her nose.

She lunged to
the side, mirroring his movements as he tried to dodge past her. “Take me with
you. Narelle needs someone on her side. I can help.”

“I don’t have
time to argue,” he said, his arm sweeping her aside. “The DS will have to
babysit you.”

Renee White,
looking less than impressed and muttering under her breath, turned her back to
the door.

Brett responded
to the news in much the same way. “God, Jacinta, I hope you know what you’re
doing,” he said, a frown wrinkling his forehead. Then, just as suddenly, the
worry lines vanished. “I’ll come, too.”

Much to his
chagrin, she rejected his suggestion outright, giving him a quick peck on the
cheek and a promise to see him at home. His bottom lip dropped further when she
and Daniel joined the sergeant on the front step. Wendy, on the other hand,
appeared relatively unfazed at having her husband called away unexpectedly.

Closing darkness
shrouded the houses and cars in the street in hazy shadows. She breathed in the
dusk-cooled air and scrambled into the backseat of the unmarked police car
parked at the kerb behind Brett’s Chevy. She buckled herself in, wondering how
many murderers and rapists had been there before her, and shuddered.

“If I’m going to
be of any help, don’t you think I should know what’s happening?” Sitting behind
Daniel, she saw DS White’s sidelong glance at her superior, but not his
response.

Met with
silence, she added, “At least what’s supposedly behind Craig Edmonds wanting to
jump off a car park building. I have to be able to tell Narelle something.”

Stopped at a red
light but with both hands still on the steering wheel, the DS angled her body
toward Jacinta. “A Visa card, belonging to a 22-year-old missing woman, was
recovered today. Unfortunately, someone leaked this to the media and before we
knew it, they had cornered Craig Edmonds. For whatever reason, he flipped.”

“You can’t be
talking about Kirsty – Kirsty was older than that — so what relevance does this
woman have to Craig?”

With a nod from
Daniel, Renee continued. “At the time this woman went missing,” she said,
pausing as the lights changed and she pulled into the middle of the
intersection, “she worked for the same company our Mr Edmonds did.”

Tossing a bucket
of iced water over her would have had the same effect. She gasped. Her
hypothetical question to Daniel earlier had been intended only to provoke a
discussion. Even if she accepted the police viewpoint of Craig Edmonds killing
his first wife in a drunken rage, it didn’t automatically make him a serial
killer.
Did it?
She shook her head, no longer sure of anything anymore.

“But what does
that prove?” asked Jacinta, recovering her voice.

Daniel uttered
something she didn’t catch. Without taking her gaze from the road, Renee
nodded, the dashboard’s pale glow accentuating her profile. “Nothing at this
stage, except he knew her.”

Sighing, Jacinta
slumped back in her seat, her cheek resting against the cool glass of the side
window. Outside, light and dark rushed past in a hypnotic blur. She felt as if
she had been caught up in a rip, the swirling currents draining her strength.

She only had
herself to blame. In spite of Brett's best efforts, the choices had been all
hers. And, even if she had wanted to, she had come too far to back out. Narelle
had no one else to turn to.

However, it was
more than that. In the short time they had known each other, the two women had
formed a strong bond. Jacinta couldn't explain it, but Narelle was like the
sister she’d never had. Perhaps part of it was because they were both de facto
orphans: Narelle disowned by her parents and she with a dead mother and an
unknown and nameless father.