JILL TOOK THE call while dressing for work. 'Tonight?' she said into the phone. 'Why tonight?'
'Your sister's going away on another shoot,' her mother replied. 'As usual, she waited until the last minute to tell us. She's going to Italy this time and thinks it may be one of the last big overseas shoots she does. She thinks they're about to send her out to pasture.' Jill knew Cassie was paranoid about her age: thought she was lucky to still be modelling at thirty.
'Okay, I guess I can come,' said Jill, holding the handset under her chin and trying to towel off at the same time. 'Where are we going?'
'East Ocean in Chinatown.'
'Yum. That's a bit a hike for you guys, isn't it?'
'Actually, it's quite exciting. You'll never believe what your father's done now.'
'What?' asked Jill. Her father wasn't big on spontaneity or surprises.
'He's booked us a suite at the casino. We're going there after dinner.'
'Wow. What's the occasion?' Jill nervously ran through a checklist of anniversary dates and birthdays – nothing she could think of.
'No reason. Can you believe it? Last night I told him about the dinner plans and he said he'd arrange for us to stay in the city.' Frances sounded thrilled.
Jill smiled widely. It was great to see her parents relaxing a little. Even though she'd been only twelve, and traumatised, when she had returned home after the abduction, she had recognised the changes in her parents. There had been times early on when it seemed they went weeks without even speaking to one another. Sitting on her bed now, holding the phone, Jill felt another subtle adjustment in her tension levels, as if another piece of ice had sloughed away from the glacier that had been her heart for so many years. Her family seemed to be healing, finally.
'That's great, Ma. So, who's coming?'
'Tim and Robyn, Avery and Lily.' Jill hadn't seen her brother and his family for a month or so, and she was pleased to hear their names. 'Cassie, of course,' her mum continued, 'and she's bringing her new friend. They've been seeing each other for quite a while, apparently, so that should be interesting.'
After the call, Jill hurriedly finished getting dressed for work. She figured that the pressure on the case would lessen with the news that two of the offenders were dead. Police and community relief would be massive when they announced that one of the deceased was the ringleader – Cutter. Still, she didn't want to be late to the taskforce meeting today. There could be word back from the coroner, more details from the crime scene, or word on whether Joss would have to face formal charges. And there were still two offenders in the wind.
Despite the remaining heavy workload, she wondered whether the taskforce would be dismantled now that Henry Nguyen had been killed. As soon as the 'sexiness' of a murderer was taken out of the equation, media interest and political pressure, in that order, would diminish, and competing workloads from other cases would begin to pull the taskforce apart. She wondered how she felt about that. She had expected to be delighted and relieved; she'd been thinking she would put in for a transfer closer to home, even try to get back to Maroubra, not that that would be easy. On the other hand, she had been enjoying working with Lawrence Last. She wondered whether he would request her help on another case.
And then there was Gabriel. So different to Scotty. Jill wasn't sure exactly how she felt about their partnership coming to an end, but suddenly the morning didn't seem quite so bright.
She gathered up her handbag and briefcase, and left for work.
At just after seven p.m. Jill left the departmental car undercover in a parking station on George Street and walked down to Chinatown. She pulled a ruffled black cardigan over her white shirt as she walked. The evenings were still a little cool, especially in the city. She waited at the lights on Hay Street while other pedestrians walked straight in front of cars, ignoring the horns and expletives of motorists still trying to get home. She shook her head as two giggling girls, both on mobiles, caused a dark Mercedes to slam on the brakes. She hated driving through this intersection.
As she climbed the stairs to the restaurant, the noise from the street gave way to Japanese harp music. She spotted her family sitting at a circular table near the window overlooking the streetlights below. Spicy scents followed her as she walked past a trickling fountain and candlelit tables to reach them.
'Hi everyone,' she said, smiling.
Jill's mum rose to give her a hug and four-year-old Lily leapt from her seat before her mum, Robyn, could stop her.
'You're sitting here, Aunty Jill! Mum, you said she would sit here.'
'Yes, Lily, it's okay, settle down now.'
Jill made her way around the table; her sister, Cassie, stood when she reached her.
'Hey, big sis,' she said, kissing Jill on both cheeks. Cassie's lips were berry-red with wine, her cheeks flushed.
'Hey, Cass,' Jill replied, wishing she'd had time to change out of her work clothes. Cassie wore black, a sheath of slinky fabric falling to the floor, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. A heavy silver band circled her throat. She looked beautiful, but very thin.
'Jill, this is Aidan,' said Cassie, and the man next to her stood and offered his hand. He wore a casually crumpled suit, his shirt open at the throat. He brushed a long dark fringe from his eyes and smiled at her.
'Pop ordered lobster,' called Avery, her nephew, from across the table, waving a menu. Avery sat next to her father, who was wearing his good suit. 'It says on here "market prices", but the waiter told us they're a hundred bucks each and Pop ordered two!'
Jill's father told Avery to keep his voice down, but everyone smiled.
A waiter came past with wine, water and juice for the table and asked Jill whether she'd like to order a drink.
'I'll be fine with what's here for the moment, thanks,' she told him, watching Cassie helping herself to the wine before the waiter could pour it for her.
The plates seemed to multiply on the table, bowl after bowl of sticky, steaming food. Jill tried dishes she'd never tasted before – abalone, sea-urchin roe – and others, some of which she wasn't certain she wanted to know the main ingredients.
'Dad, what's got into you?' laughed Jill, selecting a piece of marinated tofu with her chopsticks. 'You've never ordered like this before.'
'No. Aidan helped with the ordering tonight,' her father stated, staring dubiously at a jellied dish in front of him. Aidan and Cassie laughed loudly together, the area around Cassie's plate clear of the mess that surrounded everyone else's. The waiter arrived with another bottle of wine and took it straight to their side of the table. Jill's mother caught her eye.
'How was it out there today, darling?' Frances asked.
'Not bad. Pretty good, actually. Liverpool's kind of growing on me.'
'Maybe that's because the case is nearly over,' her mum said. 'Does it still look as though it'll be wrapped up soon?'
'Yeah, it looks that way,' said Jill.
Her mother smiled. 'Do you think they'll send you back to Maroubra?'
'I doubt it,' Jill answered. 'But they could send me anywhere.' Her mobile was ringing. Jill reached for her handbag. 'Sorry, ma, just hang on a second.'
'Jackson,' she said into the phone.
It was Gabriel.
'Sorry to interrupt your evening, Jill,' he said. 'I just got off the phone with Last. The coroner's got a report on the bodies. He wants us to go over to Glebe and get a wrap-up.'
'Tonight?' Jill sighed, looking around the table at her family. Her mother watched her.
'Yep. The pressure's on to let the public know that Nguyen's dead. They want it released to the media before the morning.'
'Okay. I'm out to dinner with my family. I'll be over there in half an hour.'
'Don't hurry too much, Jill. The coroner's still tying everything up. Forensics are faxing over some findings to add to his report.'
'I'll see you when I get there, then.'
She hung up.
Frances Jackson was already standing. Jill didn't think it would be long before this party broke up altogether anyway. Her father had been frowning for the past fifteen minutes. Cassie and Aidan's conversation was garnering them stares and raised eyebrows from nearby tables; they laughed and argued, oblivious.
She made her apologies and left the restaurant.
Jill made it to Glebe in fifteen minutes, parking out the front of the building on Parramatta Road. She reattached her gunbelt and showed her badge to gain entry to the Coroner's Court. At the office of the state coroner, David Mobbs, she gave her name, asking the PA if he was available. There was no sign yet of Gabriel.
'I'm sorry, Sergeant Jackson. He's not ready for you yet,' the woman said from behind a glass partition. Her face was haggard, her hair a mess. Jill guessed they would've been working around the clock since the bodies came in early on Tuesday morning. 'If you just hang on a moment, I'll try to get some idea of the wait.'
The woman made a brief phone call and turned back towards Jill.
'Going to be up to an hour, I'm afraid,' she said.
Jill thanked her and made her way back to the front of the building. A departmental vehicle pulled in behind hers, and she walked out to meet Gabriel.
'Maybe another hour,' she said to him by way of greeting. 'Want to go get a coffee? It stinks in there.'
They walked around the corner and into a side street with a brightly lit cafe. They were the sole customers, and the pimply waiter alternated between watching them and the plasma screen behind the counter showing a Bollywood movie. After ordering, Jill moved to a Formica table at the back of the room, and they took a seat under glaring fluorescent lights. The coffee was barely passable.
'So, do you still reckon Joss will be charged?' said Jill.
'Probably,' said Gabriel. 'But the charges will likely be dropped before it gets to court.'
'That's what I think,' said Jill. 'When all the evidence comes through linking the men in the house to the home invasion gang, it'll be ruled self-defence, and he'll get off.' She sipped the coffee slowly; it may as well have been warm water. She grimaced. 'I don't think anything will come of the incident with the death of his childhood friend, either, do you?'
'Nah,' said Gabriel. 'Too long ago, extenuating circumstances – the kid killed was involved in the robbery of his father's shop.'
'Joss has been worried about that for a long time.'
'Mmm. I've actually been wondering whether this boy Fuzzy – Carl Waterman – was Cutter's first kill.'
'I know. The thought's crossed my mind as well. I guess we'll never know now.' She pushed the cup away from her and leaned back in the uncomfortable seat. 'Bizarre, the way Joss's life caught up with him, isn't it?' she said. 'It's like you try to push away parts of yourself that you don't want to know anymore, but they always come back to be dealt with.'
'There's one part of his childhood that won't be coming back for more.'
'Cutter,' she said.
'Uh huh.'
She was quiet for a moment, and then found herself saying, 'Gabriel, I really appreciated you opening up the other day about your wife and your past.' She suddenly wanted him to know this. It could be that they would be separated by work very soon. 'In fact,' she said, 'I've really enjoyed working with you over the last two weeks. I've learned a lot.'
'Thanks. We've had fun.'
Her brow wrinkled a little. She didn't know whether she'd really describe the experience that way, but she kept going.
'I was terrified about coming out to Liverpool, to be honest,' she said. 'I have a hard time getting to know new people. You made it easy.'
'It was easy because we're both in the same boat,' he said. 'People usually find me weird.'
'So I'm weird? Thanks! '
'Yep, a bit.'
'Anyway,' Jill shook her head and laughed. 'We were talking about the past never really staying buried, and I guess I've also been through some things that make it hard for me to open up.' She coughed; her cheeks felt hot under the lights. Such conversations left her feeling as though she was walking through shadowy waters over rolling logs. She feared that at any moment she'd dislocate a knee or step into a sinkhole and never emerge again. 'Um, yeah,' she said, 'I just thought I'd say that I appreciated you being so open and easy to get along with.' There, she thought. That would do.
'You said that,' he said. 'So. What'd you go through that makes it hard for you to open up?'
Just like that. He just came out and asked things. God! She swallowed. Thought about what to say. Stared at him, then at the table. Unrolled the wax strip around the top edge of her cardboard coffee cup. This was when her words were going to fail her. She couldn't think of a thing to say. He waited, patiently.
'I got kidnapped when I was twelve,' she said. Fuck.
He sat quietly, attentive, his face neutral. Maybe it was that, she thought later. No horror or great concern, no reaching over the table to touch or comfort her. No expressions of anger and indignation about how someone could do that to a child. She found herself speaking again, in a rush.
'I was at a sports carnival,' she said. 'I was hanging out at the back fence with my two best friends. They were smoking. I was gonna try it. First time. There was a gap in the fence. It was surrounded by trees. We just slipped through.' She took a sip from her ruined cup. It was empty, but this barely registered.
'There was a guy,' she continued. 'I didn't see anything. I was coming through the gap in the fence backwards and I just got grabbed and lifted up. They put something over my head. I started screaming. I heard my friends screaming too, but he ran with me back to the car. He threw me in and the car drove off. There was another one driving.'
Jill stared unseeingly at the countertop. She was back in the car.
'He tied the thing tighter around my head and then he put his feet on me. He must've put me on the floor of the car. They had me three days, although when I got back, I thought I'd been gone, like, two weeks or something. They kept me in a basement. I was blindfolded. Alone, when they weren't with me.'
Well not really alone. Jill thought briefly about the white-eyed girl – a dissociated part of herself that had separated from her consciousness when the pain and fear had become unbearable. 'They burned me,' she said in a small voice. 'Raped me. I didn't even know what sex was.' Her voice trailed off.
'They dropped me off at a school oval,' she continued, finally, in a tiny voice. 'I was naked. Still blindfolded. I often wonder who found me, and if they're okay now. I can't remember any of that last bit. There are lots of blanks.' She looked up at him. 'I suppose I should be grateful for that.' She laughed, harshly. 'Stuff still comes back in nightmares, though,' she said. 'I guess that's what I meant when I said the past keeps coming back.'
'That's fucked,' he said. 'Sorry.' Then, 'Did they catch them?'
'Nup. Not then,' she said. 'The younger one killed the older one when he got senile and started telling anyone who would listen about the sick shit they used to do to kids. They were part of an organised ring.'
And I killed the other one six months ago. She thought it, but didn't speak the words. The knowledge registered feelings of relief, satisfaction, horror. She stared at her hands.
Jill's mobile sounded, and she fumbled reaching for it.
'Jackson,' she said; then, 'Okay. Be right over.' She put the phone back in her jacket pocket. Gabriel was already standing.
'They're ready?' he asked.
'Yep.' She found her legs wobbly when she stood. 'Forensics have faxed over a copy of their findings to Mobbs. His report's being printed now.'
Fifteen minutes later, Jill's passenger door wasn't yet shut when Gabriel hooked a U-turn in front of the traffic on Parramatta Road. Tyres shrieked. She held on. He hit the siren.
'It wasn't him.' Jill said it again, third time.
'He's going to go and get them, Jill. Try to get them on the phone.'
The coroner's report had revealed that the burned bodies in the home of Joss Preston-Jones and Isobel Rymill belonged to two men named Simon Esterhase and Guo Qi Xu, AKA Tatts. Each had a substantial criminal record. They were both known associates of Henry Nguyen. Cutter.
A comparison of the organic material found at the Rice and Capitol Hill crime scenes had specifically ruled out that Nguyen was one of the dead men.
The phone rang unanswered at the Mosman residence.