On the train back to the city, Jill felt a growing sense of gloom with every station that flashed by. The weekend had been great, but already the peaceful feeling of the past two days was calcifying in her chest. She'd never felt so conflicted about a case before. Each time she applied her mind to discovering the identity of the killer, she felt guilty. Such an outcome could mean more child molesters left alive. Of course, she had no way of knowing that the murderer would kill again. Maybe all the scores had been settled.
Her eyes roamed the carriage. A huddle of high school kids, speaking in a language all their own, laughed intimately, secure in the belief that they knew more about the real world than the boring adults around them. The girls saw her staring and bent their heads together, whispering. Their giggles split the air. Jill turned her face to the window and thought about what Honey and Mia would have been like at their age. Maybe there'd have been no discernible difference – even kids living in hell could seem confident and happy when with their friends.
She hadn't talked to Honey since the club, and she realised that she kind of missed her. When had that happened? Mixed in with mistrust and wariness was respect for the girl who'd brought herself up through more adversity than most. Jill had also been experiencing a strange perceptual illusion with many people lately, and this had happened with Honey – she found that when she stared into some faces she could see through their adult features as though seeing the face of the child they had once been. It immediately endeared them to her, and it was hard to stay angry with someone after she'd imagined them this way.
What's happening to me? she wondered. Am I getting clucky? She'd been told about the maternal urge that could belt a woman over the head at about her age, and she'd been on the lookout for it for a couple of years. She'd once had a hard-arsed trainer at the police academy who'd been happily married for three years – until she turned thirty-four, and suddenly needed to be pregnant. The trainer had told her husband she wanted to have a baby, and had learned that he'd been growing increasingly disinclined to have children at all. Within twelve months, the woman had divorced and remarried, the intervening year spent like a heat-seeking missile, searching for a mate with whom she could procreate. Jill still saw the woman from time to time when she attended a training course. She had three children now, and was working part-time, fitting her job in around canteen duty.
Jill knew that it was the children involved in this case who kept her compelled to solve it. It was more like two cases really – the dead men could open a door that led to other men like them. She imagined that door opening and spiders teeming out, a roiling black mass of scrabbling predators. She shuddered, the feeling of gloom settling closer around her shoulders, wrapping her head in a blank fog. She consciously slowed her breathing, and deliberately changed her thought patterns, considering her next moves.
There was a lot more she could learn from Honey. It was time to get back in touch. Jill flipped open the cover of her mobile phone and reached into her bag for her palm pilot, containing the names and addresses of all of her contacts.
She felt him before she saw him, and didn't look up. Eight o'clock, or to her left and slightly behind her – she was being watched. The watcher was getting ready to move, and Jill felt a cold thread of adrenalin dart through her veins. She was on her feet before he'd moved. She sized him up. Twenty or so. Thin. Her eyes locked with his and she saw his face register surprise at her movement, and his conviction crumble. He looked down, and she knew he wasn't going to be a problem. She kept her eyes on him a few beats longer to make sure, but he knew she was not the easy road to a mobile phone. He kept his eyes on his shoes; probably made her for a cop. As she stared, his features morphed into those of a five-year-old, and she shook her head. Whatwas that?
Although she no longer thought he was a threat, Jill got up and moved anyway. She made her way towards the guard's carriage. They were drawing close to Strathfield now and they'd soon be at Central. She thought about telling the guard about the guy back there, but what could she say? He hadn't done anything. Yet. She was sure someone else would be rolled for their phone before long.
Instead, she stood at the door intending to make a couple of calls. The first to Scotty. She smiled and moved into a corner as his voice boomed out of the speaker.
'J!' he yelled enthusiastically. 'Coming back?'
'Yeah. Hi, Scotty. You at work yet?'
'On my way.'
'Could you pick me up from Central in about ten, fifteen?'
'On my way. Meet you at the House,' he said, using cop speak for the police station. 'Had breakfast?'
'No,' she smiled. It was always about food with Scotty. 'I'll shout you to thank you for picking me up. See you then.'
Jill disconnected and then accessed Honey's number on her palm pilot, but reconsidered calling right now. It's nine o'clock on a Monday morning, she reminded herself. Honey would be asleep and not happy, although it'd serve her right for some of the games she'd played with Jill. Anyway, the train was at Redfern and would be pulling into Central any moment. She worked her way through a smoothie for breakfast while
Scotty downed two bacon and egg rolls and a chocolate milk.
'How's your mum?' he wanted to know.
'Great. It was good to get away. She says hi.'
'What about your ribs?'
'Fine. I'm all right. How was your weekend?'
They made small talk back to Maroubra, and as they pulled into the station, Jill told Scotty about her plan to contact Honey later that morning to set up another meeting.
'We going after Sebastian?' he asked.
'Soon.'
They entered the squad room and Emma Gibson caught them at the door. She slinked around a desk and moved to stand under Scotty's chin.
'Andreessen's looking for you.' She blinked up at him. 'You're always late.'
'Thanks Emma,' he said, turning towards the inspector's office.
'And you're always rushing away,' she pouted.
'But I always take my time when it counts,' he smiled down at her.
'Hmm, something to think about.' Emma gave him a half-smile and sashayed away, throwing Jill a satisfied smirk as she passed.
Jill and Scotty exchanged a look. Without saying a word, her eyes exclaimed, Oh for heaven's sake!; his returned innocently, What?
Inspector Andreessen looked tired, as usual. His shirt was already food-stained, and a button was missing. Other buttons threatened to pop at the waistline. There wasn't a cop in the squad who'd say a word about his shirt to his face.
'Jackson. Hutchinson. I want you over at St Vincent's. Davis is going with you. Davis has the case. I only want you there because there seems to be a tie-in with the case you're working.'
'Another bashing?' Jill asked.
'Davis'll fill you in on the way over,' he said, then bellowed, 'Robinson!' looking over Jill's shoulder, calling out to another detective. That was it then.
Charmaine Davis was one of the youngest cops in New South Wales history to make detective. Her father was a barrister, her mother a GP. She'd chosen policing, while her siblings were academics or lawyers. She dealt predominantly with sex crimes, working closely with the victims to good effect; over the past year she'd helped successfully convict four serious offenders.
The three of them took a departmental Commodore to travel over to the hospital. Davis drove. She told them about the case as she manoeuvred through the light traffic.
'She's an eleven-year-old girl,' Davis began, and Jill felt her heart sink immediately. 'She was abducted from Bondi Junction shopping centre on Wednesday two weeks ago. She stopped in on her way home from school. CCTV caught the perp leading her away from the shop, almost carrying her. He'd drugged her Coke – slipped it into the can somehow. She was still holding it as he helped her walk. She showed up two days later, Newtown train station, asleep on a bench. No camera vision this time.'
'I heard about this one,' Scotty grunted.
Jill had too. She just listened.
'Anyway, she remembers pretty much nothing about the two days she was away. Bits and pieces. No names or places. She had different underwear on when she was found. She says she thinks she remembers the perp say he was taking her to a party. Rape kit was positive for semen in her vagina and anus. Physically she was otherwise okay… except her eyes.'
'Her eyes?' asked Jill.
'She was blinded. Some kind of chemical that fucked with her pupils. The doctors aren't sure what was used. She couldn't see more than light and dark when she first came in, but her vision improved over the next couple of days.'
Scotty swore under his breath. He shook his head, eyes dark. Jill's thoughts shouted in her head; she fought to keep her memories down.
'Anyway,' Davis continued, her eyes on the road, 'she's home now. She and her mum are coming in to the hospital today and I'm going to try to get some more from the girl, see if she's remembered anything else, but I doubt we're gonna get anything. These so-called date-rape drugs really fuck up the memory.'
'So they've got no real hope of getting him, then?' asked Scotty.
'Oh, we know who he is,' Davis answered, indicating right to turn their vehicle into an emergency-services bay at the front of the hospital.
Jill and Scotty stared at her.
'It's your perp from the beach. David Carter. Shopping centre cameras got a perfect shot of his face.'