Thin Blood (8 page)

This time the
sergeant did all the talking, starting by apologising for calling unannounced.
In a soft, unthreatening voice, she went on to explain that the gold and
sapphire cross had recently come into their possession. Since it matched the
description that Narelle had given in her statement of a cross belonging to her
sister, they were seeking her assistance in identifying it.

For a few long
seconds, no one spoke.

Then, in a small
voice, Narelle asked, “Where was it found?” Her head remained bowed, her hair
falling forward and obscuring her features.

“In the Toolangi State Forest, north-east of Melbourne, on an old logging road.”

“What made you
look at my statement?” Narelle lifted her head, meeting Renee White’s gaze. “It
must be years since anyone’s looked at that file,” she continued, her words
stronger now.

The slightest of
smirks appeared on Mark Fratta’s face, vanishing the instant he caught his
sergeant’s look.

The DS deftly
deflected the question, telling Narelle that like many of the old cases, it was
reviewed regularly. Before Narelle could say anything else, the DS had the
plastic evidence bag containing the cross out of her pocket, dumping it on the
table directly in front of Narelle. “Narelle,” she said, dispensing with the
formalities, “is this, or isn’t this, Kirsty’s cross?” No more softly, softly.

Narelle’s jaw
jutted defiantly, her answer just as blunt and to the point. “No, it’s not.”
She pushed herself away from the table, the chair scraping on the floor. “I’m
sure you can find your own way out.”

“Skeletal
remains were also found.” The DS paused for effect. “They are believed to be
female.”

The sharp intake
of breath Jacinta heard was her own. The soft thump she heard was Narelle
sliding from her chair to the floor.

Jacinta shivered, her thin top
offering no protection against the evening chill. She could see the outline of
objects around the swimming pool, but no detail. Hugging herself, she trod
carefully around the pool to the far side.

While the police
had long gone, the doctor had just left, assuring Jacinta that Narelle would
sleep for at least eight hours. Sedative or no sedative, Jacinta wasn’t taking
any chances.

Nearing the
boundary fence, she wondered what she would do if Brett didn’t answer his
phone. Craig hadn’t come home yet and she needed Brett’s help in finding him.
She would stay the whole night, if need be, but Jacinta felt sure that Narelle
would expect to see her husband’s face when she woke, not that of a woman she
had only just met.

At the edge of
the paving, she turned and raised her mobile phone in front of her face. Even
with the mobile’s keypad backlit, she still had to squint to read the digital
display as she scrolled through the address book.

The steady flow
of distant traffic droned in the background as she waited for the call to
connect. Just when she thought it was going to divert to his voicemail, he
answered.

“Make it quick,
Jacinta,” he said, making no attempt to hide his annoyance.

Watching the
house for any sign of movement, she cupped her hands around her mouth and the
phone. “Brett, I’m at Narelle’s. I—”

“Excuse me, did
you say you’re at the Edmonds’ home?” Giving her no chance to reply, he
ploughed on. “How could you, Jacinta? You promised me you would stay away from
them. Just once couldn’t you have left well enough alone? Was that too much to
ask?”

Her throat
tightened. “Stop! Just let me explain.” She heard him sigh, the underlying
message obvious:
It had better be good
.

In a hushed
voice, she quickly filled him in on the events of the day, starting with
Narelle’s distraught phone call that morning. She told him about the police
visit, the gold cross, and then the news that had tipped Narelle over the edge.
The police hadn’t confirmed they suspected the skeletal remains found in the Toolangi State Forest were those of Kirsty Edmonds, but they weren’t denying it, either.

“Oh dear God,
Jacinta, what have you started?”

Something
snapped inside her. “What have I started?” she hissed, managing to keep her
voice to a low roar. “I’m not the one responsible here. I’m not the one who
found the body, and I’m certainly not guilty of murder.” She took a breath.
“Although that could be arranged.”

“Okay, I get the
point. When will they know for sure if the remains that were found are
Narelle’s sister’s?”

Breathing a
little easier now that Brett was no longer haranguing her, she recounted what
DS Renee White had explained to her about the degradation of nuclear DNA over
time.

“Does that mean
they won’t be able to positively identify the bones?” Brett sounded concerned.

“Not a hundred
percent. However, there is something called mi-to-chon-dri-al,” she sounded the
word out, hoping she had recalled it correctly, “DNA that is inherited solely
from the mother.”

“So, what does
that mean?”

“That means if
the mitochondrial DNA matches Narelle’s, then the remains belong to someone in
the family with the same maternal lineage. And I assume that unless there are
other members of the family missing, that would mean Kirsty. They should know
within a week to ten days.”

She could almost
hear his mind ticking over, his only response a low whistle. She waited, allowing
time for the possible ramifications if the remains were positively identified
as Kirsty Edmonds to sink in. If his thinking was anything like hers had been,
there would be a slew of conflicting scenarios playing out in his head.

On first hearing
about the discovery of the skeletal remains, Jacinta’s immediate thought had
been that it would bring closure. At long last, Narelle and Craig would be able
to grieve properly; she for a sister and he for a wife. It would mean that they
could escape the shackles of the past and get on with living.

Who am I
kidding?

The likelihood
of that happening and everyone living happily ever after had to be almost
zilch. As soon as the news got out that unidentified human remains had been
found, media speculation and rumour would be rife. How soon would it be before
some switched-on reporter put the police visit to the Edmonds’ house together
with the discovery of the skeleton?

What could a
collection of old bones reveal? Did the dead woman have a tale to tell? Jacinta
knew forensic science had advanced, but not to what extent. Perhaps evidence
would be found clearing Craig Edmonds of the murder of his wife. But then
again, what if the evidence, rather than exonerating, further implicated him?
Or even more unthinkable — Narelle?

Of course, all
that would be immaterial if the remains proved not to be those of Kirsty
Edmonds. Narelle had been adamant that the gold and sapphire cross found near
the body hadn’t belonged to her sister. Time would tell.

“Brett, I have
to go.” She had seen a light go on in the kitchen.

“Don’t—”

She hung up,
cutting short whatever it was he was about to tell her not to do. Promising
herself that she’d call him back as soon as she left the Edmonds’ place, she
retraced her steps to the house.

Opening the
glass sliding door, she slipped inside. The kitchen was lit up but there was no
sign of anyone. She noticed, on the bench next to the sink, a glass that she
was sure hadn’t been there before. Had Craig come home, or had Narelle, in her
somnambulistic state, wandered out for a glass of water?

Thinking she
ought to first check on Narelle, she crept down the hall toward the master
bedroom. With no light to guide her, she strained to see more than an arm’s
length in front of her.

Her nose
wrinkled. A faint, vinegary odour that somehow seemed familiar hung in the air.
Stale wine. She recognised it in the same instant she touched something soft
and warm. She screamed.

Light flooded
the hall, blinding her. Instinctively, she ducked, her arms out in front of her,
shielding her face. She heard him before she saw him.

“What the hell?”

Her sentiments
exactly.

She blinked, her
pupils contracting with the sudden influx of light. “I can explain,” she
blurted, wishing she could be anywhere else but there. “Narelle called me.”

Taking a step
back, he lowered the bottle he had been holding like a baton over his head and
frowned at her. In the confines of the hall, he seemed a much larger man than
she remembered. His clothes looked like he had slept in them. His face was unshaven,
sporting a dark stubble that definitely wasn’t designer.

She stared back,
trying desperately to formulate something better than,
Your wife was sick, I
came, the police were here, your new wife collapsed, the police went, the
doctor came… And, oh, by the way, skeletal remains that might be your dead
wife’s have been found.

Bloody interfering woman
.
Craig Edmonds banged his glass down hard on the table. Neat whisky sloshed over
the side, spilling onto his hand.

Ever since that
Jacinta Deller woman had infiltrated their lives, nothing had been the same. He
had tried to tell Narelle that no good could come of accepting that dinner
invitation. If only he had tried harder.

Instead, he had
given in to her pleading and gone along with her wishes. He wanted her to be
happy, but even he couldn’t have foreseen the events of the week. Would they
have happened regardless? He couldn’t answer that. But although he had no
evidence to back his hunch, he was certain that Jacinta Deller had been the
catalyst.

Throwing his
head back, he downed what was left in the glass, feeling the fiery liquid
coursing through his throat into his stomach. He then refilled it with the last
of the Chivas Regal. With the glass gripped in one hand, he stumbled to his
feet and staggered toward the master bedroom.

Stopping in the
bedroom doorway, he sagged, the doorframe supporting his weight. The light from
the hall, whilst not shining directly on the bed, was enough for him to see
that his darling wife was sleeping soundly. Narelle, her breathing slow and
steady, lay on her back with the sheets tucked up under her chin.

The alcohol was
making him maudlin. His eyes brimmed with tears, his emotions threatening to
overwhelm him. He had never loved another woman with the intense passion he
felt for Narelle. It was an intensity that sometimes frightened him. He
couldn’t imagine a life without her in it. She was his world. As far as he was
concerned, they didn’t need anybody else; they had each other. Two halves of
one whole…

Sniffing, he
wiped his eyes on his shirtsleeve. A couple of deep breaths helped him regain
some composure. He gazed at Narelle’s sleeping form, wondering what had
possessed him to push her away? At a time when he needed her most, he had
erected barriers. He loved her yet he had found himself unable to reach out,
unable to share his innermost feelings. As much as he wanted to, he hadn’t been
able to put them into words.

He moved into
the room. Placing the empty glass on the bedside table, he knelt on the carpet
beside the bed and caressed her brow. He smiled.

She needed him
now.

The hot, northerly wind whipped at
Jacinta’s hair as she stepped from the air-conditioned comfort of the Alvico
Media offices on to the footpath. Surveying the street, she saw only the usual
motley collection of shoppers, tourists, business people and truant students
going about their day, none of whom seemed to be paying her any attention.
Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

She shuddered,
still unable to shake the prickly sensation she was being watched. It wasn’t
the first time. She had been feeling it, on and off, for a few days. Was it
paranoia or was it actually possible that someone was following her? Rummaging
in her satchel for her sunglasses, she made a mental list of everyone she knew,
crossing out names as she went.

Since that first
demented phone call from Grace Kevron, when she’d ranted on about blood and
vengeance, Jacinta had received numerous calls from her. Most had ended up as
messages on her voicemail — some strangely polite, some abusive, all scary.
Notifying the police would have entailed explanations.

Jacinta blamed
herself. In hindsight, contacting Grace about the Edmonds case had been asking
for trouble. However, phone calls were one thing; following someone was
something else altogether. Grace didn’t know where she lived.

Last week’s
encounter with an inebriated Craig Edmonds had certainly left her reeling, but
as far as she knew, he hadn’t left his wife’s side. She had phoned the Edmonds
every day in the hope that Narelle would answer. Instead, each time it had been
like confronting a fire-breathing dragon guarding his treasure. Craig refused
to enter into a discussion of any kind, let alone tell her how Narelle was
faring. She tried leaving messages but somehow doubted they ever reached her.
At least, Jacinta hoped, Narelle had her husband to look after her.

The ludicrous
idea that Brett could be stalking her stayed with her for less than a second.
They might not be living together anymore but, if nothing else, they were still
talking to each other. He had phoned that morning to wish her luck for the job
interview, sounding more like the old relaxed and carefree Brett. Maybe they
had a future after all.

With her
sunglasses not only shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare but also giving her
a sense of anonymity that she knew was false, she hurried down the footpath,
breaking into a trot as the cross lights flashed green. As her foot touched the
kerb on the other side of the street, she stopped and turned. A quick sidestep
prevented her from being trampled by the stampede of pedestrians.