The Girl Remains (Detective Corban)

by Katherine Firkin

  ‘Well, let’s see what he has to say for himself now,’ Bianca growled.

  They pulled up slightly back from the metal gates, pleased for the patrol cars parked on standby.

  ‘Shit.’ Emmett looked up the crest of the hill, where he knew dozens of media would be gathering. ‘Keeping a low profile on this one is going to be tough.’

  ‘But at least the super got his head on the telly,’ Bianca chuckled. ‘That’s all that matters.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  They waited for Lanh and Flynn to arrive before making their approach.

  ‘Any movement?’ Lanh asked as he leapt out to join them.

  ‘Not that we’ve seen so far. But it looks like he has a visitor,’ Emmett pointed to the coupé parked by the metal gate. ‘Plus the lights are on, and Leicester’s truck’s in the driveway.’

  He motioned for the detectives to spread out, their backup still minutes away.

  ‘You guard the front.’ He gestured to Flynn and Lanh. ‘We’ll try the back.’

  A skinny path ran the length of the house, meeting a decent-sized backyard, its plants and shrubbery softly disappearing into the evening darkness.

  Bianca went ahead to the rear door and pulled at a flyscreen.

  Open.

  They stepped inside. Dark. And eerily chilly. Emmett squinted, leading the way through the room and out into a short hallway.

  Voices. Crying.

  ‘Come on, darling, you’re being ridiculous. She was hallucinating.’

  Leicester’s words – the former sergeant sounding terse, on-edge.

  More muffled noises. A squeak.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  A female voice – was this the mysterious Pippa?

  Emmett crept past empty rooms, a bathroom, a spare bedroom.

  He thought of Tobias Haigh, attacked so violently.

  ‘No one’s going anywhere until I say so.’

  That woman again.

  He hung by the doorway, looking back to Bianca.

  This was it.

  ‘Police. Freeze. Hands in the air.’

  He stopped.

  He’d been expecting a confrontation; for this woman, whoever she was, to be in some sort of trouble; for the bulky former sergeant to put up some sort of fight.

  Instead, he appeared to have crashed a family gathering. He looked around the small, crowded dining room.

  Emmett lowered his gun.

  Leicester was leaning over a wooden chair, body hunched, as though winded. The woman he knew to be Scarlett was near the far doorway, feet straddled in a power stance, arms crossed at the chest. There was Gina, the ice queen, expressionless as always, and then . . . He made eye contact with the brunette at the table, her forkful of food held frozen mid-air.

  ‘Detective?’ Leicester raised his eyes. Bloodshot. Weeping.

  ‘Looks like we all need to have a bit of a chat.’ Emmett took a step forward. It was enough to scare at least one guest at the table.

  The crockery clattered as Pippa leapt to her feet, springing from her chair and bolting for the far doorway.

  It was Scarlett who got to her first, reaching out a foot and tripping her, then holding her up as Bianca placed a firm grip around the young woman’s left wrist.

  ‘Pippa Robbins, you’re under arrest for the assault of Constable Tobias Haigh . . .’

  ‘What?’ Leicester’s face showed a flicker of relief.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Emmett moved around the table towards him, ‘we’re here for you too.’

  ‘You’re arresting Dad?’ Scarlett’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘Stay calm, honey.’ Leicester stood up tall. ‘It’ll just be a misunderstanding. I’ll straighten it out with you all at the station.’ He gave Emmett a nod, like they were mates catching up over a beer.

  ‘I hardly think so, Mr Reyes. We’re placing you under arrest—’ Emmett was interrupted by a screech.

  ‘No.’ Scarlett’s cheeks were bursting red. ‘No one is going anywhere until I hear what happened. Tell me to my face what you did with that slut.’

  A spiky fingernail swung from Leicester to Gina, who had said nothing until this point. Now she stood up gingerly, one hand on her stomach.

  A nervous laugh left the former sergeant’s lips. ‘Scarlett, darling, you’re being silly. Tell them, Gina.’

  ‘It’s not what you’re thinking, Scarlett,’ the ice queen’s cool voice was unusually unsteady. ‘It was one of Dean’s friends. I don’t know why Cecilia thought . . .’

  Emmett watched as Gina stopped midsentence, as though silenced by a powerful force within. She shook her head, one hand rubbing her belly softly.

  ‘No,’ she lifted her gaze to meet Leicester’s, ‘I can’t do this anymore, I can’t keep pretending.’ She turned to Pippa, who’d frozen in Bianca’s grip. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, reaching her arms to the young woman, her face scrunching as tears streamed down her cheeks. ‘I should never have let you go.’

  ‘I think it might be best if we get Pippa and Gina to the station.’ Emmett spoke to Bianca, who nodded solemnly, reaching for her radio mic.

  But a crash distracted all of them.

  Scarlett had grabbed a butter knife from the table, and was lunging towards Gina. ‘Tell me what you did, you slut.’

  It was Leicester who restrained her, wrapping two arms around his daughter, and hugging her into his chest.

  ‘I’m so sorry, my darling. You were right to stay away. You should never have come back.’

  The butter knife fell to the floor as Scarlett buried her head in her dad’s chest, sobbing hysterically.

  ‘Just tell me what you did.’

  Leicester kissed her on the head, taking a second to compose himself.

  ‘You sure you want to hear this, darling?’

  Scarlett whimpered in agreement.

  ‘Okay then,’ the former sergeant released his grip and locked eyes with Emmett.

  ‘Cecilia came home from that party to find me . . . in bed with Gypsy. We’d been involved for a while; it was something that just happened naturally – I never intended for it to happen, of course.’

  A squeak escaped from Pippa, who appeared to have lost her footing entirely, relying on Bianca to keep her upright.

  ‘You’re my father?’ she gasped, her head flicking between Gina and Leicester. ‘Not the paedophile?’

  ‘I was so ashamed,’ Gina tentatively took Pippa from Bianca’s grip, then wrapped her in a hug. ‘I couldn’t tell you.’

  ‘And how did Cecilia react?’ Emmett prompted Leicester.

  ‘She was drunk and on some kind of amphetamine, and she was confused, saying things about Scarlett’s boyfriend Dean – how he’d hurt her at this party she’d been to and how she wanted to go home. I managed to get her into her bed where she passed out completely, and I hoped that when she woke, she’d think she imagined everything.’

  ‘But she didn’t?’

  ‘I was hopeful she’d go along with it, but I heard her trying to phone her parents first thing on the Tuesday morning. When I went to talk to her about it, she bolted out the door – didn’t even hang around long enough to put her shoes on. Luckily she came back, but that night, when Scarlett called me saying she’d run away, I knew she was gone for good. I couldn’t have her blabbing to someone about what she’d seen, so I went out looking for her. I found her straight away, marching down Melbourne Road as though she was going to walk all the way back to her parents’ home by herself. I managed to convince her to get into my car, said I’d drive her there myself.’ Leicester stopped, lines deepening around his mouth. ‘I intended to drive her home safely, but she just wouldn’t stay calm.’

  ‘So what did you do?’ Emmett asked, quietly.

  ‘I kept trying to talk her out of it, telling her she’d imagined things, that the drugs and alcohol she’d been messing around with were playing tricks on her, but she was adamant, screaming and crying, bashing at the door handle and saying she wa
nted to get away from me. I didn’t mean to hurt her.’

  Emmett raised a discreet hand in the direction of the doorway, where Lanh had emerged, a cardboard box in his arms and a solemn expression on his face. The rest of Cecilia’s clothes?

  ‘I drove her around a bit, thought she’d relax and we could talk sensibly. But she just got more and more worked up. Eventually, I took her to Koonya lookout; it was pitch black and no one was around, and I . . .’ He looked to Scarlett, who had crumpled on the floor, and shook his head sadly. ‘I’m so sorry darling. I killed Cecilia May.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  ‘Thank you all so much for gathering here today. I have significant announcements to make. First, I am pleased to confirm that as a result of my department’s thorough investigation, we finally have answers for the family of Cecilia Lee May.’

  Audible gasps could be heard from the surrounding reporters.

  ‘I can also reveal that an arrest has been made in connection to the assault of Constable Tobias Haigh. I have some good news on that front, too, with the constable making slow but steady progress in hospital . . .’

  Emmett muted the volume, shaking his head as he looked at his team, gathered around the TV in the spare office at the Sorrento station. Of course Bryce Frederick had insisted on making his way down to Blairgowrie first thing that morning, swooping in and taking all the glory.

  ‘Don’t worry. Everyone who matters knows who the real heroes are,’ Bianca teased, raising her mug of coffee as though performing a toast.

  Emmett laughed. It was remarkable how a few hours’ sleep, a shower and a change of clothes could improve their attitudes – and appearances.

  After the chaos of the night before, they’d taken Leicester and Pippa in for questioning at the station, leaving the two in custody overnight and returning early that morning to finalise things.

  Leicester was currently on route to the Melbourne Custody Centre, the transfer made at Emmett’s request as he didn’t think it was appropriate for the former sergeant to be held by his ex-colleagues. And Pippa would likely be released on bail, with strict conditions.

  Now, they had a few loose ends to tie up before driving back to Melbourne.

  ‘So, Leicester had been grooming Gypsy for a while?’ Flynn asked.

  ‘It seems that way.’ Emmett sipped his coffee – the gold label stuff that Tobias had so proudly bought. ‘Apparently their relationship started a year earlier, on one of the girls’ prior trips.’

  ‘How ironic that he spent his time trying to pin the crime on a sex offender when he was one himself.’

  ‘I know. And the sad part is that Warren actually trusted Leicester.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Apparently he was quite friendly with the former sergeant before all this happened. In fact, he actually went over to the house on the Thursday morning, once he’d heard that Cecilia had disappeared, and told Leicester how he’d found the teen at a bus stop, and that he’d driven her back to Leicester’s on the Tuesday morning. He thought he was being helpful, but of course he was actually just handing himself in as the perfect suspect.’

  ‘Leicester went to an awful lot of trouble to frame Warren,’ Flynn mumbled. ‘Like sending those letters and planting evidence—’

  ‘Though he clearly never knew that Cecilia’s remains were preserved,’ Emmett interrupted, making this realisation himself for the first time. ‘He must have presumed her body was destroyed in the car fire. Lucky for Warren – otherwise who knows what Leicester might have done if he knew where she was buried.’

  ‘But getting Cecilia’s clothes back from Daphne Innisberg, and then planting them out at Dogs Head . . . and in Warren’s house. That was extreme,’ Flynn insisted.

  ‘Yes, but he would have been as shocked as anyone by the discovery of the bones, and he had a lot to lose,’ Emmett paused.

  How had Leicester managed to get the box of clothes back? If he’d been the one to send them to Robert in the first place, how had he convinced Daphne to hand them over? Had he threatened to reveal Robert’s involvement in the crime? And if so, was that what had prompted Daphne to take her life?

  ‘In fact, we need to make sure we ask Leicester about that during our next interview,’ Emmett announced. ‘He obviously knew a lot more about Warren’s relationship with Robert than he pretended. Let’s find out how he compelled Daphne to give him those items back.’

  ‘You know what I don’t get?’ Lanh sighed, shifting in his chair. ‘Why Scarlett never knew about her dad’s relationship with Gina.’

  Bianca shrugged. ‘I think she didn’t want to know. She had her own worries with Dean, and I guess it was easier to accept that Cecilia had been lying about everything, than to consider the possibility that the two most important men in her life were deceiving her.’

  ‘It’s gross,’ Lanh muttered, noisily unwrapping a packet of gum. ‘And what about Gina never saying anything?’

  ‘She couldn’t have known that Leicester had killed Cecilia,’ Emmett reasoned. ‘She was on the other side of the world, traumatised and probably feeling as though she’d caused Cecilia to run off into the night. Don’t forget that she was a victim in all of this too. And I imagine that, like all of them, she’s been carrying around an immense guilt since that day.’

  ‘Although that Dean bastard could do with a bit more guilt,’ Flynn grumbled.

  ‘Very true.’ Emmett rubbed his eyes.

  Flynn had helped him make the arrest of Dean Innisberg first thing that morning – the revolting man finally charged with the sexual assault of Cecilia May.

  ‘He’ll get away with it,’ Bianca scowled, as though reading Emmett’s mind. ‘Historical sex attacks are almost impossible to prove, and unless he suddenly gets a conscience . . .’

  ‘We’ll get him,’ Emmett put his coffee mug down on the table with a thud. ‘We’ve got Leicester’s testimony, and Scarlett’s: we’ll get him.’

  Bianca looked set to protest, but a knock on the door interrupted them. Greg Brabham appeared.

  ‘There’s a visitor here to see you, Detective Corban.’

  Emmett stood up, hesitant. The last time he’d had an unexpected visitor it had been Leicester Reyes. Unless the man had escaped the divvy van . . .

  ‘Cindy!’ He rushed to reception as soon as he saw her. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Thought I’d stop by, tell you how proud of you I am.’ His wife grinned, wrapping an arm around his waist.

  ‘Hang on.’ Emmett tilted his head. ‘You were sent out to cover the press conference with the superintendent, weren’t you?’

  ‘Okay, yes,’ she laughed. ‘I may have been motivated by money and career progression, but I also wanted to see you. Any chance you’ll be home tonight?’

  ‘Yeah, we’re going to finish up here and then we’ll drive back to Melbourne later this evening. The rest of the investigation can be done from headquarters. And we all need a night in our own beds.’

  ‘Sounds good.’ She pecked him on the lips.

  ‘Take him now,’ a deep voice sounded.

  Emmett spun around to find Bianca had followed him out and was now standing in the passageway, hands at her hips.

  ‘We don’t need him, and you deserve a medal for that photo of Pippa – that pretty much solved the case for us.’

  Cindy blushed.

  ‘Actually, I wouldn’t mind heading off,’ Emmett smiled, ‘if you’re okay to wait a few moments? I’ll meet you out the front?’

  He walked with Bianca back towards the office, waiting until he was sure they were alone. ‘How the hell am I going to tell her about what I did?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘How I tried to . . . you know . . . kiss you.’

  ‘Oh!’ Bianca snorted, brunette waves dancing in front of her face. ‘Geez you’re an idiot. No. Don’t do that. Don’t say anything.’

  ‘What? But I have to. She’s my wife, she deserves to know the truth.’

  His colleague frow
ned, a mock-stern expression on her face. ‘Oh yeah? And how much good did knowing the truth do for poor Cecilia?’ She shook her head. ‘Surely, if nothing else, this investigation has taught you the dangers of knowing too much?’

  Emmett laughed. ‘I just say nothing?’

  ‘I’ve already listed all the ways you can improve your marriage, and stop being such a dreadful husband . . .’ Bianca slapped him playfully on the shoulder. ‘So, you’ve got your work cut out for you as it is.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘But in this one area, you need to shut up and do nothing.’

  Shut up and do nothing. Emmett grabbed his bag, waved at his colleagues, and headed for the reception.

  That actually sounded okay.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  To Kate Mellor, my closest friend since primary school, and the inspiration behind this book. Thank you for sharing Blairgowrie with me. Our teenage adventures to the peninsula still provide some of my happiest memories, and I hope you can see a little of us in this story. (Though if any of our parents are reading, the book holds no similarities to our trips whatsoever. Honestly.)

  Lucy Firth and David Mellor, in many ways you were another mum and dad to me. I always felt so welcomed by you both, and I hope you’ll appreciate my repaying your years of hospitality by turning your lovely beach home into a crime scene.

  Once again I am indebted to members of Victoria Police, who tirelessly assisted me with research for this novel. In particular I want to mention Detective Senior Sergeant Murray Gregor, a former homicide detective and senior anti-corruption investigator. Murray, I can’t thank you enough for the time you put into helping me on this second project. Your advice on forensic anthropology played a crucial role in deciding the direction of the plot, and your stories from out in the field were not only useful, but also endlessly inspiring. I am incredibly fortunate to have someone of your calibre and experience to call on.

  I was also lucky enough to return to Blairgowrie while writing this book, and I must mention Marg and John Foley, who generously gave me the run of their home, and most importantly a quiet space to hide away and finally finish the manuscript.