by Vicki Tyley
“We have to explore every avenue. I’m sure you’ve heard the old line about everyone being a suspect until they can be ruled out.”
Exactly, she thought, an old line. “But you haven’t told me a damned thing I didn’t already know.”
“I wish I had more, but,” he paused, presenting his palms in an open shrug, “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
Fed up with talking in circles, she tried another tack. “Let’s say – only hypothetically speaking, mind you – that Craig Edmonds is a serious suspect in these killings. Shouldn’t you be doing something to protect his wife? She’s pregnant, for God’s sake!”
His eyes narrowed into tiny slits, logging the news of Narelle’s pregnancy. “Hypothetically speaking, we would probably keep both of them under surveillance. She’s survived all these years without incident, so we wouldn’t be unduly concerned, unless something was to happen where we thought she,” he paused for effect, stressing the next word, “and her unborn child might be at risk.”
“What could happen?”
He shook his head, pouting his lips. “Nothing or anything.”
Jacinta glared at him, fighting the urge to reach out, grab him by the ears and shake his head until something fell out.
The doorbell saved Daniel, giving him a temporary reprieve. Still refusing to admit defeat, she trailed a few paces behind as he opened the door to DS Renee White.
“You weren’t answering your phone.” Daniel patted his pockets as the DS continued. “Craig Edmonds is threatening to jump from the top of that multi-storey car park in—”
Daniel stepped outside and pulled the door behind him, leaving less than a one-centimetre gap. Despite that and the detectives’ hushed tones, by edging closer to the door, Jacinta heard nearly everything they said.
“Somehow the media found out about that credit card we found, put two and two together, and confronted Craig Edmonds at work.”
Daniel cursed.
“The news seems to have sent him over the edge. He’s that drunk he can barely stand. There’s a team there now, trying to talk some sense into him. His wife is being picked up as we speak,” said DS White.
Jacinta’s breath caught in her throat, her exasperation with Daniel lost in her immediate concern for Narelle. Alternatively gnawing her bottom lip and running her fingernails back and forth across her top teeth, she racked her brain, trying to think what she should do.
“Give me a minute,” said Daniel, shoving the door open and only just missing her nose.
She lunged to the side, mirroring his movements as he tried to dodge past her. “Take me with you. Narelle needs someone on her side. I can help.”
“I don’t have time to argue,” he said, his arm sweeping her aside. “The DS will have to babysit you.”
Renee White, looking less than impressed and muttering under her breath, turned her back to the door.
Brett responded to the news in much the same way. “God, Jacinta, I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said, a frown wrinkling his forehead. Then, just as suddenly, the worry lines vanished. “I’ll come, too.”
Much to his chagrin, she rejected his suggestion outright, giving him a quick peck on the cheek and a promise to see him at home. His bottom lip dropped further when she and Daniel joined the sergeant on the front step. Wendy, on the other hand, appeared relatively unfazed at having her husband called away unexpectedly.
Closing darkness shrouded the houses and cars in the street in hazy shadows. She breathed in the dusk-cooled air and scrambled into the backseat of the unmarked police car parked at the kerb behind Brett’s Chevy. She buckled herself in, wondering how many murderers and rapists had been there before her, and shuddered.
“If I’m going to be of any help, don’t you think I should know what’s happening?” Sitting behind Daniel, she saw DS White’s sidelong glance at her superior, but not his response.
Met with silence, she added, “At least what’s supposedly behind Craig Edmonds wanting to jump off a car park building. I have to be able to tell Narelle something.”
Stopped at a red light but with both hands still on the steering wheel, the DS angled her body toward Jacinta. “A Visa card, belonging to a 22-year-old missing woman, was recovered today. Unfortunately, someone leaked this to the media and before we knew it, they had cornered Craig Edmonds. For whatever reason, he flipped.”
“You can’t be talking about Kirsty – Kirsty was older than that — so what relevance does this woman have to Craig?”
With a nod from Daniel, Renee continued. “At the time this woman went missing,” she said, pausing as the lights changed and she pulled into the middle of the intersection, “she worked for the same company our Mr Edmonds did.”
Tossing a bucket of iced water over her would have had the same effect. She gasped. Her hypothetical question to Daniel earlier had been intended only to provoke a discussion. Even if she accepted the police viewpoint of Craig Edmonds killing his first wife in a drunken rage, it didn’t automatically make him a serial killer. Did it? She shook her head, no longer sure of anything anymore.
“But what does that prove?” asked Jacinta, recovering her voice.
Daniel uttered something she didn’t catch. Without taking her gaze from the road, Renee nodded, the dashboard’s pale glow accentuating her profile. “Nothing at this stage, except he knew her.”
Sighing, Jacinta slumped back in her seat, her cheek resting against the cool glass of the side window. Outside, light and dark rushed past in a hypnotic blur. She felt as if she had been caught up in a rip, the swirling currents draining her strength.
She only had herself to blame. In spite of Brett's best efforts, the choices had been all hers. And, even if she had wanted to, she had come too far to back out. Narelle had no one else to turn to.
However, it was more than that. In the short time they had known each other, the two women had formed a strong bond. Jacinta couldn't explain it, but Narelle was like the sister she’d never had. Perhaps part of it was because they were both de facto orphans: Narelle disowned by her parents and she with a dead mother and an unknown and nameless father.
CHAPTER 32
Emergency services had blocked off the street. Red and blue flashing lights cast a sterile strobe effect over the scene, highlighting the two uniformed police officers diverting traffic down the side street.
Inside the cordon, all eyes pointed skyward. Daniel leapt from the car the instant it came to a standstill, disappearing into the light-sliced multi-level concrete car park within seconds. Unbuckling her seatbelt, DS White gave Jacinta strict instructions to stay in the car, and then followed her boss in.
Jacinta crooked her neck, looking up, but the angle from her position in the backseat was all wrong. She shuffled across the seat and looked out that window. Nothing much appeared to be happening at street level. Two fire fighters with folded arms stood nearby, talking and occasionally glancing up. A paramedic busied himself in the back of an ambulance. And, on the far side of the street, police officers and civilians, all with their necks craned upward, stood around in clusters.
She tried the car door, relieved to find she hadn’t been locked in. Disregarding Renee’s orders to stay put, she clambered out, scanning faces and vehicles as she closed the car door behind her. Narelle either hadn’t arrived or was already up top with the negotiating team. Whatever, thought Jacinta, I’m no use stuck in the back of a police car.
She made it as far as the ticket booth before being challenged by a thick-necked constable. “I’m sorry, miss, authorised personnel only.”
“I’m with Detective Inspector Lassiter,” she said, her hope of bluffing her way past fizzling when he asked for her name. “Please tell him—”
“Jacinta? Is that you?” said a small voice from behind her.
She spun around. Flanked by two burly police officers, Narelle appeared tiny and fragile.
“Thank goodness, you’re here.”
Narelle’s eyebrows
drew together. “But what are you doing here?”
The question surprised Jacinta until she remembered that Narelle didn’t know about Daniel. She hadn’t intentionally kept it from her friend, but with all Narelle’s dramas, the right opportunity just hadn’t come up. Jacinta extended her hand, suddenly realising what it must look like.
Narelle shied back, her face contorting in confusion.
“Let me explain. Please. No, wait,” Jacinta called out as Narelle’s minders guided her toward the lift. “I’m only here as your friend. I only found out recently that my stepbrother, who I haven’t seen in years, is a policeman. Brett and I were having dinner with him and his family when he got the call. If you don’t believe me, ask…”
The lift doors closed, leaving Jacinta no alternative but to wait and pray. Even if she had been able to convince Narelle of her intentions, the car park’s top level had to stay out of bounds. In his unstable state, the last person Craig needed to see was Jacinta, the woman he blamed for his woes.
CHAPTER 33
Detective Inspector Daniel Lassiter removed his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. Dental records had identified the human remains first suspected to be those of Kirsty Edmonds as those of 22-year-old Tamara Whitfield, a securities clerk who had been employed by Siegel Stockbrokers. According to the missing person's report, all employees, past and present, had been questioned at the time of her disappearance. At that stage, there had been no suggestion that Craig Edmonds was anything more than a colleague.
Of course, thought Daniel, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands behind his head, it could all be a coincidence. Sighing, he dropped his hands and returned to scouring the case files on his desk for anything, no matter how insignificant, that might have been overlooked the first time around. He distrusted coincidences.
Expanding the search area in the Toolangi State Forest had yet to yield any new clues or evidence. A dental practice fire in 1995 had destroyed Kirsty Edmonds’ dental records, so until DNA testing either proved or disproved that the second body was hers, he had little to go on. In the meantime, DC Mark Fratta had been delegated the unenviable task of searching through the multitude of missing person’s reports for other possible matches.
Regardless of the outcome, Daniel felt sure the disappearance of Kirsty Edmonds and the discovery of the human remains in the forest had to be linked. Tamara Whitfield had been reported missing in November 1994, Kirsty Edmonds 14 months later. The gold and sapphire cross recovered matched the description Narelle Croswell had provided of the one her sister always wore, even if she denied it was the same one. Craig Edmonds had worked with one woman and been married to the other. Then there was Grace Kevron, Kirsty’s best friend and, if she was to be believed, lover. What had she been doing at the Toolangi site?
Detective Sergeant Renee White appeared in his doorway. Her expression told him she didn’t have the answers he was looking for.
“Grace Kevron is proving rather elusive. She hasn’t been at work since she called in sick a week ago, and if she’s at home, she’s not answering the door or her phone. None of her neighbours recall seeing her since last Thursday.”
“Stick with it; she has to come up for air sometime.” Daniel pushed his chair back from the desk and stood up. “Any news from the hospital about when we can talk to Craig Edmonds?” he asked, placing his hands on the small of his back and arching his spine.
DS White shook her head. “No, they’re allowing his wife to see him, but that’s all.” She gave a small smile. “I guess they’re trying to protect him from any undue stress.”
Daniel raised his eyebrows. Craig Edmonds’ drunken suicide threats had landed him in The Alfred’s psychiatry department, and out of the clutches of the detectives. What had driven him to the point of wanting to end it all? What was he running away from? Had guilt finally caught up with him? Had a decade of protesting his innocence come to naught? Had he seen death as a better alternative to a lifetime in gaol? All questions that would have to wait.
Renee continued. “Grace Kevron has gone AWOL, we’re not allowed access to Craig Edmonds, so for now that only leaves us with Narelle Croswell. What harm can it do to talk to her?”
“No, it’s too risky. Whatever we said to Narelle would go straight back to her husband. I don’t want him forewarned. Let’s focus on what we do have,” he said, dropping into one of the black vinyl-upholstered visitor chairs in front of his desk while motioning Renee to the other. “Talk to the forensic anthropologist again. If nothing else, by now she should be able to give us some indication to the age of the skeleton. While you’re there, check with ballistics and find out what progress they’ve made with those two bullets.”
“I’ll give them a call now.” Renee stood and moved toward the door.
“No, go in person. They’ll be less likely to fob you off that way.”
Daniel stayed seated in the visitor chair, staring blankly at the cream wall behind his desk. He had a difficult decision to make. Jeopardise what was already a fragile relationship with his stepsister, or lose the perfect opportunity provided by a ready-made Trojan horse?
CHAPTER 34
Jacinta Deller flicked another page over, looking up as the tram pulled to a stop. Three people got off: a wizened, wispy-haired man with a walking stick; a pink-haired youth in black Doc Marten boots; and a long-limbed, ebony-skinned man in his mid to late twenties. Sighing, she returned to her magazine, reading but not absorbing the words.
From her seat at the weathered picnic table in Fawkner Park, she was able to watch the comings and goings over the road at The Alfred without appearing too conspicuous, but she had already been there three hours. Shuffling on the hard wooden bench, her backside numb from sitting in one place for too long, she hoped she hadn’t missed Narelle’s arrival.
Narelle had been avoiding her all week, not returning her phone calls and refusing to answer the door. All Jacinta wanted was a chance to explain, but skulking about outside the hospital made her feel like a stalker lying in wait for her victim.
Then she spotted her leaving a footpath at the Punt Road end of the hospital. Jacinta jumped to her feet, shoving her magazine and empty water bottle into her canvas knapsack as she strode toward the pedestrian crossing.
Walking head down, Narelle didn’t see Jacinta until she was directly in front of her.
“Leave me alone!” Tears welled in Narelle's eyes. “Stay out of my life!”
“Please, Narelle, give me a chance to explain. I haven’t done anything wrong, I swear. You’re my friend and I want to help.”
“Some friend. Who needs enemies?” Narelle’s face crumpled.
Jacinta moved in, wrapping her arm around the forlorn woman’s shoulders, and gently drew her toward the edge of the footpath. Narelle buried her face in her cupped hands, fighting the convulsive sobs racking her body, her elbows pulled in tight against her chest.
Using the front of her thigh as support, Jacinta rummaged one-handed through her knapsack, feeling for the soft plastic pack of tissues she kept there. Only when Narelle’s tears had weakened to a snivel did she accept the offered clutch of tissues. Keeping her red, puffy eyes downcast, she mopped her tearstained face and palms.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Narelle said, her voice raspy from crying. “I can’t stop bawling.”
It didn’t take a lot of guesswork to know what was wrong with Narelle. Her husband was in psychiatric care after trying to kill himself. DNA tests had yet to identify or otherwise the second lot of skeletal remains as her sister. She feared the impact the outcome might have on her life, her husband’s life and their unborn child's life. Pregnancy hormones ran rampant through her body. She also thought the person she called a friend had betrayed her.
“Well, it’s really no wonder, is it?” Jacinta said.
Sniffling, Narelle scanned the area around her, managing to avoid any eye contact with Jacinta.
“What are you looking for?”
Narel
le’s bottom lip quivered and Jacinta feared she was about to start crying again.
“Let me buy you a cup of coffee. Come on, there’s a café just inside the main entrance.”
Breathing in ragged gulps, Narelle’s flickering eyes scanned the area again, paying particular attention to the line of parked cars across the road. Jacinta’s frown deepened. What or who is she looking for?
Keen to escape the searing midday sun, she took two paces toward the hospital’s concrete steps. “It’ll be cooler in there, too.” She kept walking, glancing back with each step.
Hugging her abdomen, Narelle kept her head bowed, remaining motionless until Jacinta had reached the top of the first section of steps. Using the handrail, Narelle began to half-pull, half-walk her way up the steps. Jacinta hunted through her knapsack, pretending to look for something, knowing any attempt to help would be rebuffed.
Neither woman spoke as, leaving the glare and heat of outside, they entered the hospital. Jacinta blinked, her eyes adjusting to the artificial lighting. She shivered, the sudden change in temperature raising goosebumps on her arms.
Narelle lagged half a step behind as they crossed the polished floor of the main foyer. The muffled echoes of footsteps, intermingled with low, solemn voices, reminded Jacinta of a church. As Jacinta and Narelle neared the café, the voices became more upbeat, the tone less sombre.
Without warning, Narelle darted off to the right, disappearing through a door at the end of a short but narrow corridor. Jacinta saw the sign a moment later and breathed a sigh of relief. Narelle wasn’t the only one who needed a toilet.
