A Madness of Sunshine

by Singh, Nalini

  “I’ll be missed,” Anahera warned. “Just like Miriama was missed.”

  “I told you, I had nothing to do with her death!” It was the first time he’d lost his temper, his voice rising and his hand shaking on the Taser.

  A loud noise sounded in the trees at the same instant.

  Vincent swung that way ­instinctively—­and Anahera took the chance to run.

  “Ana!” he shouted from behind her, but she kept on moving in an erratic weaving pattern, her feet pounding the earth and her lungs bursting.

  “Drop it.” The words were cool, ­calm—­and accompanied by the sound of the safety being disengaged on a gun.

  Skidding to a halt, Anahera looked back and saw Will standing less than seven feet behind Vincent, a rifle pointed to the back of Vincent’s head. “You’re too smart to risk it,” he said when Vincent didn’t drop the Taser.

  “You’re not authorized to have a gun.” The words were bitten out. “I checked with my source. Your paperwork’s still pending.”

  “And you’re not authorized to have a Taser,” Will replied in that mild tone that gave nothing away. “There’s no way I’ll miss at this range. In case you’re hoping I’ll blow out your brains so you can go down in a blaze of glory, you should know I intend to shoot out your spine. I’m sure the prison hospital staff will be gentle as they turn you over so you don’t get bedsores, and when they reattach your catheter.”

  Anahera couldn’t see Vincent’s face, but she could imagine the expression on it. To a man who’d been a prince, then a king, the idea of being helpless in anyone’s hands would be an enraging one. And, when it came down to it, Vincent Baker was a coward.

  She wasn’t the least surprised when he dropped the stun gun.

  “Turn around,” Will ordered. “Hands behind your head.”

  Vincent obeyed, his eyes meeting Anahera’s across the clifftop clearing as Will closed in on him. “I guess our date will have to wait,” he said, that perfect, innocent smile on his face. “We would’ve had so much fun.”

  61

  Vincent’s arrest pounded a shock wave through Golden Cove. Especially when it came out that there was a recording of him confessing to his heinous crimes. Will had turned on the recorder on his phone partially through the standoff, and the device had picked up both Anahera’s and Vincent’s voices. Not everything but enough.

  “Thank God,” Anahera said to Will four days later, when they finally had a chance to be together.

  Will had been caught up in the logistics and legalities of making sure Vincent would never again walk free. The one thing he hadn’t had to explain was illegal use of a firearm. Because the rifle he’d used to disarm Vincent was one of the decommissioned pair that hung in his rental; it wasn’t capable of firing even a single shot.

  As for why Will had brought it with ­him—­he’d run into Evelyn Triskell just as he was leaving the house. She’d stopped her car while passing his place, and yelled out a “Yoohoo!”

  It turned out she’d gone for an early morning ­coffee-­and-­croissants run to Josie’s. But what she’d wanted to tell Will was that, on her way back, she’d glimpsed a ­hoodie-­clad figure cross the road in the distance, moving from the hillside bush track to a track that Will knew led to the cliffs.

  “The one he came from, it’s no doubt a messy track to run at the moment,” Evelyn had said. “Rain always turns it into a bog for at least a week, usually causes a rockfall or two along the way.” Pursed lips. “It’s probably one of the local boys wanting a challenge, but you really should do something about blocking off that track while it’s unsafe.”

  Will’s instincts had kicked in.

  “I memorized the track routes during the search for Miriama,” he’d said afterward, his eyes like chips of slate. “I knew the track Evelyn was complaining about started at the Baker property. I figured it had to be Kyle. I could see him setting the fire to get back at ­me—­and I knew that’s where you must’ve gone.”

  “I thought I’d be safe in bright daylight.”

  Will had nodded. “Evelyn’s sighting was why I parked on the road and walked in through the trees. I didn’t want my presence to provoke the ass­hole into doing something stupid if he’d just come to admire his handi­work.”

  He’d taken the gun because he knew both Vincent and Kyle had a firearms license and Evelyn hadn’t been able to tell him if the jogger she’d seen had been holding anything.

  Anahera owed her life, at least partially, to the town gossip.

  Anahera, too, had been trapped in an endless loop of police interviews. She hadn’t balked, not even when she was asked to repeat details for what felt like the ten billionth time. She’d do anything in her power to keep the world safe from Vincent.

  Now, at long last, the two of them sat naked in Will’s bed, having stripped off each other’s clothes the instant after walking in the door. Anahera didn’t need to be a psychologist to know it was the need to celebrate life that had driven them to the most primal sex she’d ever experienced.

  Limbs heavy in the aftermath, she sat with the sheet tucked up over her breasts while she bit chunks off a ­family-­size bar of chocolate she’d dug out from Will’s pantry. It was apparently courtesy of an elderly townswoman who thought he was too thin. He, in turn, was halfway through a cup of coffee so dark she’d worry it’d keep him up all night except that they were both so exhausted that sleep would come whether they wanted it or not.

  “I didn’t delay helping you just to get more damning footage,” Will said.

  “I know.” He wasn’t built that way. “I’d still be thanking you even if you had. Vincent needs to be locked up forever.”

  Will rested his free hand on her ­sheet-­covered thigh. “He was so calm. I needed him unbalanced enough that he’d fall for a noise in the bushes and you would have time to get out of ­range—­then you said that about Miriama being missed.”

  “I think his calmness through it all is what I’m having the hardest time handling.” Closing her own hand over his, she ran the pad of her thumb over his knuckle. “It’s as if his actions had no real impact on him.”

  “I’m sure the prison shrinks will have a field day with him.” Will absently stroked her thigh. “They found Kyle’s body in the trunk of Kyle’s own ­car—­Vincent told us he intended to bury his brother far from Golden Cove, in another isolated section of bush.”

  “Is he still insisting he had nothing to do with Miriama’s death?”

  Nodding, Will said, “Shrinks are convinced he’s lying to himself because he killed the woman he ­loved—­as much as someone like Vincent can love.”

  “You don’t agree?” Anahera put the unfinished chocolate bar on the side table.

  “I don’t know.” Folding his arms behind his head, Will stared at the opposite wall. “He’s open about his other crimes to the point of bragging. Didn’t blink when walking me through how he pulled off his parents’ ­murder—­or how he slit Kyle’s throat. But he becomes enraged if I so much as mention Miriama in connection with his other crimes. Hasn’t once budged from saying he never hurt her.”

  Anahera blew out a breath. “Is there anything you can do to find out if he’s lying or not?”

  Will stared into the distance, but he was still there, just thinking. “Yes,” he said slowly before turning to look at her. “You’re going to have to trust me on what I’m about to ask you to do.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  62

  Will took the first step while Anahera was in the bathroom throwing water onto her face to wake herself up for their planned excursion. He wanted to keep her out of this and out of possible danger until he had an answer for better or worse.

  Picking up his phone, he input the call. “Evelyn,” he said when she answered. “I’m sorry to call so late, but I’m finalizing Miriama’s file and I didn’t want to bother Matilda or Dominic.” No lie there. “I was hoping you could help with some of the details.”

  �
�Oh, of course,” the gossipy but ultimately kind woman said. “Mattie’s in no state to talk to anyone and that poor young doctor’s gone to pieces. What do you need?”

  “It’d be useful if I could track down any X-­rays Miriama might’ve had done recently. My guess would be that Dominic was no longer her doctor.”

  “Oh, that one’s easy. I ran into her once when she was catching the bus to go get a prescription for hay fever, I think it ­was—­I asked her why Domi­nic didn’t just write her one and she said there were rules about doctors dating patients.” A quick breath. “Anyway, she told me who she was off to see and I was happy for her. Dr. Symon is a lovely man, saw my cousin through a bad bout of shingles.”

  “Do you have a full name for him?”

  “Roger, I ­think… No, wait, it’s Richard. Dr. Richard Symon.”

  That took care of the chain of ­evidence—­as long as Evelyn’s information was correct. If it wasn’t, he’d have to go to Matilda after all. And he’d have to break her heart ­again—­because she’d want to know why he was asking the question when Vincent had already been arrested.

  “Thank you,” he said, and hung up before Evelyn could burst out with her own questions.

  Now, to confirm the name without tipping his hand, or causing Matilda fresh suffering.

  “Ready?” Anahera stepped out of the bathroom.

  Will nodded. “Let’s go.”

  They walked to their destination: the Golden Cove doctor’s surgery.

  Breaking into it at night wasn’t exactly the Great Train Robbery. The only reason the place wasn’t regularly vandalized was probably because Dominic kept his drug samples locked up in an ancient metal filing cabinet so heavy you’d need a crane to lift it. The lock on the cabinet was all but impossible to pick.

  The same couldn’t be said for the front door.

  While Anahera stood as lookout, Will made short work of that lock and stepped inside.

  He went straight to the ­less-­than-­new computer that held patient files.

  This was where it could get tricky, but when he booted it up, it took him straight to the main page, no password required. That ­small-­town mentality again. It was, however, to his advantage this time around.

  Quickly bringing up the file he wanted, he saw the words he’d expected to see: Patient file closed.

  Below that was an explanatory note:

  Miriama Hinewai Tutaia is switching to another general practitioner as she is in a personal relationship with me, the physician of record for Golden Cove. To be clear, she has never been my patient and I was not aware that she was on the practice’s roll at the time that we met. It appears she was enrolled at this surgery as a child, but has had no need to visit it in the past three years.

  To maintain ethical lines and give her access to a primary physician who can keep track of her overall health, I have referred her to a fellow practitioner in the nearest town. Referral letter annotated to file.

  That referral letter was to Dr. Richard Symon.

  He shut down the computer and made sure everything was as it had been, then exited the clinic, the door lock snicking quietly behind him.

  “You have it?” The oval of Anahera’s face looking at him from under the black knit cap she’d pulled on.

  He nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”

  It wasn’t until they were back home and making themselves a midnight snack that Will said, “I’m going to have to go out of town tomorrow. I’ll leave before dawn so I can make the trip and be back by midmorning.”

  Anahera nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’ll use your computer to sort out a new passport for myself.” She finished stirring sugar into her hot cocoa. “I might swing by the cabin, too.”

  To reclaim it, replace the memories of Vincent’s violence with peace. “I’d rather you wait until I’m back,” Will said. “Or if you want to go alone, give me another ­twenty-­four hours.”

  Dark eyes locked with his. “You think Vincent is telling the truth.”

  “I’ll know after my visit tomorrow morning.” Hit by a sudden cold that reached into his bones, he closed his hand over her wrist. “Come with me.”

  He knew she was a woman who valued her freedom, but after studying his expression, she said, “I need to buy some more clothes and a new laptop anyway. Will I be able to get those where you’re going?”

  Will exhaled silently. “I know a place.”

  They left the next morning in the misty gray time before true dawn.

  Anahera said only, “Good luck,” when he dropped her off at the small mall that held both an electronics store and clothing shops.

  The mall wasn’t yet open, but the café out front was doing a brisk business.

  Waiting until after she’d walked into the café, Will drove on to his destination. The visitor parking lot was empty at this early hour, but he spotted a couple of cars in the small staff lot.

  He rang the bell.

  The door was opened by a cheerful Indian woman with small daisy earrings in her lobes. “I’m afraid Dr. Symon isn’t starting for another fifteen minutes,” she said. “Do you have an early appointment? You’re welcome to sit inside where it’s warm.”

  Will showed her his identification. “I’d like to talk to Dr. Symon. It shouldn’t take long.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, but her tone remained professional. “Come inside. I’ll go fetch him.”

  A slender man with graying brown hair appeared from a back room less than a minute later, crumbs of toast on his tie. “Detective,” he said, holding out his hand. “How can I help you?”

  “Perhaps we can talk in your office,” Will said after they shook.

  “Of course.” The other man held up his mug of coffee. “Would you like one, too?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  They were soon seated in the doctor’s office with the door shut behind them. “I’m going to ask you about a patient,” Will began after taking a generous sip of the hot liquid.

  “I’m sure you’re quite aware of medical privilege,” Dr. Symon began.

  “The patient is dead. Murdered.”

  Richard Symon put down his coffee with a dull thud. His eyes skidded slightly up and to his right before landing on Will again.

  Will went motionless; this was why he hadn’t called ahead. “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

  The other man made a game attempt to recover. “Hard to miss, what with her death being linked to a serial killer. It’s been in the news nonstop.”

  Will put down his coffee on a clear spot on the doctor’s desk. “You and I both know you were aware of her death long before then. Is Dominic de Souza a good friend?”

  “A colleague.” Dr. Symon pulled at the knot of his tie. “­We—­the doctors who work on the West ­Coast—­try to keep in touch, help each other out when we can.”

  “He referred Miriama Tutaia to you.”

  “I suppose there’s no harm in confirming that. I am, after all, her physician of record.” A short pause. “Do you need medical data to verify her identity, is that it?” He smiled shakily. “I’ve never been in this position before, but I can’t see any problem with such a request.”

  Will locked his eyes with Dr. Symon’s. “What I’m about to ask you is tied directly to Miriama’s murder. Think carefully before you answer.”

  63

  Anahera asked Will to drop her off by her Jeep when they drove back into Golden Cove. It was still parked in front of Matilda’s house. “At least this didn’t go up in flames,” she said as they transferred over her clothing purchases.

  “You heading to the café?” asked the cop who’d somehow become more to her. “Passport application?”

  “No, I managed to finish that at the mall.” After setting up her laptop, she’d used her phone hot spot to start the process of obtaining new travel documents; it helped that she’d scanned and backed up all important docu­ments in the cloud. “I’m planning to call Jemima, se
e if she’ll see me.”

  The police had taped off the Baker estate as a crime scene. Jemima and her children were currently staying in the guesthouse on Daniel’s estate, but neither Daniel nor Keira was in residence. They’d left the country the day after Vincent’s arrest, after Keira’s ­Canberra-­based grandmother had a severe seizure and was placed in intensive care.

  Jemima kept the gate locked and wasn’t answering calls. The police had gone to her for interviews, rather than force her to come to the ­station—­probably because they knew the circus that would follow should she leave the May estate.

  You’d think Golden Cove’s remote location would help protect Vincent’s family from the impact of his notoriety, but the media were camped out at the gates. Some would no doubt have jumped them by now if the police hadn’t stationed a patrol car there and made it clear that anyone who stepped onto private property without permission would be arrested.

  While certain journalists might’ve shrugged off the possibility of a trespass conviction in their determination to get an exclusive, the bloodsuckers were smart enough not to take on the vicious dogs currently roaming the property. Matthew Teka had quietly offered Jemima the dogs when a reporter managed to reach her front door, and she’d accepted.

  That was the only communication anyone had had from her since the arrest.

  “Be careful.” Will’s gray eyes held her gaze. “Matthew’s dogs took a chunk out of a cameraman’s leg yesterday.”

  “He shouldn’t have been trying to sneak up to the house.” Anahera had no sympathy for those who preyed on the pain and heartbreak of a woman who’d had nothing to do with her husband’s horrific crimes. “If she doesn’t want me there, I won’t go.” Simple as that.

  “You realize she might blame you for what happened to Vincent?”

  “Yes.” She touched her fingers to his jaw. “Go be a cop, Will. I’m going to be a friend if she wants one.”