That night Anya went home. Following Bevan Hart’s death and confession to the killing of Natasha Ryder, Kate and Hayden thought it safe for her to return home.
She opened the front door and nearly tripped on the pile of papers and mail on the floor. She disarmed the alarm and switched on the lights. Everything was as she had left it.
Nevertheless, the fact that the Harbourns had her name and address still had her spooked. Especially after Gary’s outburst in court.
She kicked off her shoes in the hallway and bent down to retrieve her mail. With Elaine still away, a pile of junk mail had accumulated inside the door. Sorting through the papers, something caught her attention. A letter from Ben.
She grabbed a letter opener from her office and sat on the calico lounge opposite Elaine’s desk. The answering machine could wait.
Ripping the envelope open revealed a brightly colored painting of a rainbow. Ben had drawn what looked like a man, woman and boy in the picture. On the back was his name and class name.
This has to go on the fridge, she thought, and stood up. A number of bills fell to the floor. Among them was a book-sized envelope with an immature handwriting.
There was no post mark. It had been hand-delivered.
She opened it tentatively in case it was from the Harbourns.
Inside was a diary, the kind to be found in any newsagent. On the inside flap was a name, Savannah Harbourn, and the words:
If I die or get killed I want this to go to my friend, Violet Yardley. I love my family, but can’t go on hoping things will change. When I saw that girl in the hospital, I knew who done it. So many bad things happened. If there is a God, maybe he’ll forgive me for keeping quiet so long.
Anya sat and flicked through various entries about lonely days, isolation and how much fun her sisters could be.
Today Mum was laughing again about how stupid the cops are. It’s only the dumber crims who ever get caught, she reckons. You just have to stick to your story, stick together and nothing bad’ll happen to you. Jail doesn’t scare them either. They’d all do time for each other. It’s what family does. You stick together. That’s what the police don’t get.
I am sorry for all the bad things my family done. Someone has to stop them hurting more people. I wish I was strong enough to do it.
The diary contained a list of dates, names and attacks. Some of them were unfamiliar to Anya, like Choko, Lizard, Rastis.
It also included a crumbled piece of note in a different hand. It said, 111 Rosemont Place.
Anya moved to her desk and looked up the Goodwins’ address. 111 Rosemount Place.
She switched on her laptop and Googled a map of the locality. Within minutes she had discovered that Rosemount Place was a suburb away from Rosemont Place.
Had the Harbourns gone to the wrong house that night looking for drug money? The notion made the tragedy of what had happened to the girls so much worse.
She slipped Savannah’s diary into her bag, slid into her shoes and armed the alarm before heading out.
Kate searched the database. “Got it. It’s been reported by neighbors as being suspicious. Darkened windows, unmowed lawns, same car always parked there. No one comes or goes in the daytime. Uniforms went around but no one answered.”
“Did they follow it up?”
“Without a warrant, there wasn’t much they could do. Don’t you love the way the system protects the innocent?”
Kate made a couple of calls to the drug squad. “Now we wait,” she said. “And I still can’t figure out where Bevan Hart got the gun from. The serial number matched the one that was supposed to be destroyed. No barrel changes, same gun exactly. Where that came from there’ll be others and that’s a real concern. If men like Hart can get hold of one, who the hell else can and already has?”
Benito Fiorelli entered the Homicide office at about 9 P.M, in a dinner suit with black bow tie. He kept a busier social schedule than Dan Brody, it seemed.
“This better be good. It’s opening night of La Bohème at the Opera House,” he said as Kate handed him photocopied excerpts from the diary.
Sitting on Shaun Wheeler’s empty desk, Fiorelli read Savannah’s confession, then listened while Anya explained why the Goodwin address might have been a mistake.
“God, how can we tell Mr. Goodwin that his daughter’s murder was the result of a mistaken spelling?”
Kate argued, “But it gives us motive for why the Harbourns were at the house in the first place. If it was a planned revenge attack for a drug deal gone bad, then Gary’s claims of temporary insanity are out the window.”
Benito rubbed the dark circles under his eyes. It occurred to Anya that he had come into the trial midway, after the murder of his colleague and friend. It can’t have been easy for him and it looked like the pressure was wearing him down.
“After today’s performance, it may be too late. The looks on the jury’s faces pretty much said it all. While they listened to the gruesome details of Rachel’s murder, a few feet away Harbourn was demure and controlled, no sign of the earlier outburst. I could see some of them were thinking that anyone who did that would have to be mad. Today just reinforced the Jekyl and Hyde insanity impression.”