Carl sat back in his chair and said, "You look good, Sport."
A doll's house. The object was a kids doll's house. The room a bedroom, or playroom. Probably upstairs, because the den down by the kitchen housed the entertainment system and minimal toys.
"You look alive," I countered.
Carl chuckled. It ripped right through me. I ground my teeth, worked at not showing any emotion and tried my damnedest to not clench my fists at my sides.
"Michaels been looking after you?" he asked, as though we were having a little catch-up session and a man wasn't about to lose his life if he wobbled too much at my back.
"What do you want, Carl?" I asked. Kahui would be tiring, we had to end this now.
My eyes flicked to Damon's off to my side, saw he was watching this all play out and was too far away to reach Kahui in time, if the shit did hit the fan.
"I taught you better than that, Sport," Carl admonished. "It's not what I want, it's why."
"It's always why," I replied.
That bloody chuckle again; deep, rumbling, like a big teddy bear. But this teddy bear kills.
"Why?" I said, unable to stop myself. Too much emotion came through in that one word.
"I found out something," Carl started. "At that last informant I went to. It was big." He shook his head, disgust and incredulity on his face. "It would have destroyed the Crown Law Office. Wouldn't it, Kahui?" The last was directed at the man about to be hanged over my shoulder.
Kahui made a whining sound from behind his gag.
"The Crown Prosecutor on the payroll of Declan King," I offered.
"You have been paying attention, Sport. I'm impressed." His smile was genuine. It caused me so much pain. "I wanted us to meet up and move on the intel that night. I knew how sensitive it was. I knew it would blow up in our faces before we got a chance. So, I arranged for us to meet out Mellons Bay way. Discuss a plan and then move on Kahui. I wanted to do it under the radar. Someone was helping the Crown Law Office, and that someone is in CIB."
My stomach flipped, I tasted bile on my tongue.
"Who?" I asked, despite knowing none of this could be confirmed, and Carl was hardly a reliable source right now.
He shook his head. "Still don't know. Kahui's good at keeping secrets. Aren't you, Prosecutor? Very tricky. Even sent his family away, once he knew his underlings were being culled before they could act on his instructions to kill you. The arrogant prick thought he could take me on himself. Forgot that I was a decorated detective with fifteen years CIB experience. Forgot just what I was capable of." He turned his attention back to me. "But you didn't. Followed the leads, didn't you, Lara? Did everything I asked without fail."
It was a strange sensation to feel hatred toward my old partner. To know I'd been manipulated by him. Predictability in this profession is not necessarily a good thing.
"Why act now, Carl?" I asked, taking a small step back towards Kahui.
Carl's eyes followed the movement like a fucking hawk. I had to think laterally. I had to do something he didn't expect. But I was a graduate from the school of Carl Forrester, and my major was in Carlisms.
"That fall," Carl said, voice soft and lethal, capturing my attention despite the desperation clawing at my mind right then.
My gut was telling me I'd been outplayed. I refused to believe it, but Carl's words, about that last night on the cliffs at Mellons Bay, broke my mental debate.
"Took a lot out of me, Sport. For a while I wasn't sure which side I was on. Everything scrambled."
Oh, fuck. It still was, Old Man. Can't you see?
Was this why he'd turned rogue?
"And then Kahui got pushed to investigate the King spill-over evidence," Carl said. "Contacted Tommy." Thomas Withers, who had been so unsure about killing me. "I'd been watching Tommy, couldn't remember why I was meant to, but kept doing it out of habit anyway. And once the Solicitor-General got involved and pressured Kahui, who in turn pressured Tommy, it all started to come back."
He chortled, a self-deprecating laugh. Shook his head, at himself I think, and then looked down the camera lens directly at me. Like he had on the CCTV footage at Quay Street. But this time it was so much more personal, because I knew he was somewhere above my head inside this house.
And I had to get to him.
My eyes caught movement outside the window. Carl noticed, of course. But I'd intended for him to.
"Who's there, Sport? Who did you involve? You know you can't trust any of them. So, who does Lara Keen think is safe to call for back-up now?"
As if he had a right to know.
"Pierce," I said, watching as Pierce circled the front lawn, heading around the back of the house.
Carl laughed. "You always had a soft spot for the lame ducks." His eyes darted across the room to Damon. "Somehow that tendency was forgotten when you met Michaels, though. Knew you needed him back in your life."
This was all well and good, but Kahui was fading. How long he'd been up on that chair was anyone's guess, but I could see the strain when I checked over my shoulder briefly. The guy was about to pass-out, and then all hell would break loose. I needed to act before then.
"I'll head Pierce off," I suggested. "Give us more time to talk."
"You think I just want to talk, Sport? I came here to keep you safe. I wanted you to look in the eyes of the man who signed your death warrant and watch the light fade."
I'm not sure what hurt more. His betrayal? His absence? His mental decline? This was not the Carl Forrester I knew. I'd been aware that confronting him would hurt. I just hadn't realised in how many different ways that it would.
"Carl," I started.
"Don't give me your bleeding heart speech, Keen. This arsehole covered for a known narcotics pusher. Hid his activities from the Police. Fronted some of his more legal looking companies, providing an excellent opportunity for money laundering King's profits. He corrupted the Crown Law Office. His reach went so far as CIB. Do you think he won't get out of this in the Court system? The guy owns it, courtesy of Declan King."
"King's dead," I pointed out. "Without him around, it'll be harder for Kahui to cover this up."
"King's dead," Carl murmured. "I might as well be. And Kahui isn't seeing another sunset."
"Don't do this Carl."
Pierce appeared in the doorway, but didn't enter the room. And I could only hope he was not visible on any hidden cameras, either. He wouldn't have shown up on the one I was being filmed on, but I had no way of knowing if Carl had wired more.
His intense gaze took in the situation instantly. I tried not to look at him, kept my focus on the TV screen and Carl. And when Carl blinked, flicked my eyes to the ceiling and then back down. But I couldn't be sure if Pierce had caught the movement and would extrapolate my meaning from that simple act.
"The gang all here?" Carl asked, letting me know he had more than one camera set up through the house. Always one step ahead. "Good. You needed an extra witness. Wouldn't look kosher if the detective Kahui wanted dead was caught at his side while he suicided. Michaels is for support, we all know that. After this is over you're going to need him. But he'd offer his life to keep you safe, so his word in regards to you, Lara, isn't enough."
I let a soft breath of air out, well aware of how Carl wanted this to end. Panic took up residence inside my mind. The desire to step back and grab Kahui causing more anxiety through my frame. If I moved, what would happen? Those pulleys would engage before I could do a thing.
Carl had this all planned. I was as much trapped, as Simon Kahui.
I stood frozen, glued to the spot. Damon hadn't moved, his chest rising and falling dramatically, his eyes darting between me and Kahui. Probably thinking along the same lines as I. But for Damon, his quandary was, reach me first or reach for Kahui? I could see the dilemma in his dark eyes. He feared for me. He thought Carl had lost the plot completely and would strike me down as well.
I wasn't so sure. But I did know Carl had played us. All of u
s. He knew us all too damn well.
"Come on in, Ryan," Carl instructed. "Join the party. You're going to get a kick out of this."
Pierce walked into the room, his eyes taking in every detail. I saw him glance up at the chandelier, an intelligent assessment washed over his features, and then disappeared by the time he turned to look at the TV screen.
As Carl concentrated on him, I took the opportunity to look at the contraption again. Futilely searching for a weakness in its design. But it was too simple. Move on Kahui, and Carl would activate the pulley system, tightening the noose, shortening the rope's length, hanging the Crown Prosecutor. In my defeat, I took too long to pull my eyes away. When I returned them to the TV screen, Carl was looking directly at me.
"Like it, Sport?" he asked. "Did it for you."
Oh, fuck.
"Could see your clever little mind working on each murder scene, joining those dots of yours, getting a thrill out of solving the messages I'd left."
Oh, fucking hell.
"So, this one had to be special, right?"
I felt sick. I felt cornered.
"Put extra effort into it."
I felt lost.
We'd got it wrong. The profile. Hennessey, me, Damon, Pierce, Hart. We'd fucked up. The murderer - Carl - wasn't going to stop once his reason for killing disappeared. He had gotten a taste for it.
And I had to end this now.
"Give yourself up, Carl," I pleaded. "Get some help. That fall off that cliff has done something to you. This is not the Carl Forrester we all know and love. This is not you."
"Lara, you've got it wrong. And I gotta say, I'm disappointed, Sport."
Why did his displeasure still affect me? He'd forfeited the right to that sort of influence when he started down this path.
"Kahui won't stop now, Keen," Carl said. "He's probably put something else in motion as a back-up already. You need someone looking out for you. Someone untouched by CIB corruption. Someone neutral."
"And that's you?" I asked, incredulously.
"You got Michaels for immediate protection." Oh, Jesus. He'd thought of everything. "You got Pierce to keep an eye out for you at CIB." Yes, he'd planned it all. "And now on the street, I'll watch over you too."
"Stop this," I begged. "This is insane."
"No," Carl argued, quite reasonably. "What would be insane is letting scum like Kahui live."
It happened so quickly. One minute Carl was talking on the TV screen, the next it went blank. At the very same time the coarse rope looped around Kahui's neck pulled taut, through the pulleys in the chandelier above his head.
I realised, too late, the easiest would be for Carl to have activated it all from above. That room he was in, was over our heads.
Kahui screamed behind his gag, then abruptly went silent, and the noose tightened with a sickening crunch. Damon and Pierce leapt towards the swinging figure as I tore out of the room and headed for the stairs. I already knew what they'd find when they cut the Crown Prosecutor down. His neck had broken instantly. Carl, of course, had planned it that way.
Pounding in my head matched the throbbing in my toe as I banged it against a stair tread, completely misjudging the depth and height in my panic. I growled low, hands fisted around my weapon, as I made to the landing in less than five seconds of heart palpitating time. Kahui would still be swinging, Damon or Pierce desperately trying to hold him up, relieve the tension at his neck, while the other cut the rope.
I spun around the bannister at the top, gun up and aimed in front of me, breath sawing in and out of my mouth. I didn't have time to muck about, but every single door on the landing was shut. I couldn't check each one, although safety dictated that I should. But my gut told me if I did, Carl would be long gone.
I chose to eliminate those not directly above the lounge room below, and went straight for the one I estimated was above the chandelier.
Heat prickled along the nape of my neck as several closed doors ended up at my back. Knowing they hadn't been cleared. Aware that Carl would have anticipated that. Had he set a trap to distract me? He was too clever by far. One step ahead and insane as well.
My heart ached at what he'd been through. The confusion and shock after he'd fallen off that cliff. Did he have a bullet wound? Had he broken a bone? He'd certainly damaged his skull. How had he survived? Why hadn't he ended up in hospital and consequently identified? There was more going on here and if I didn't reach him in time, the opportunity to discover answers would be lost.
I tried the door handle. It was, of course, locked. One last delaying obstacle for me to get past.
A glance down at my throbbing foot and I bit back a string of swearwords. This was going to fucking hurt. Even though I had every intention of using my non-dominant foot to do the damage.
With a growl of frustration I lifted my left leg and kicked at the door, as near to the locked handle as I could aim with the wrong side of my frame. My balance was off, unnatural as the movement was, and my foot twisted against the knob.
This time the curse couldn't be denied. "Motherfucker!" But anger is a good tool.
The second kick smashed the locking mechanism and the door swung open so forcefully, that it ricocheted off the back wall. Bouncing to close again in a spilt second. Gun in my right hand, my left stilled the door's motion, as silence on the other side of the threshold met my ears.
I crouched, moved into the room, gun raised, safety off, my body on automatic, doing what I was trained to do and not allowing myself to think too much about it.
The room was just like the scene on the TV. White furniture, gingerbread house painting, doll's house and a plush armchair set up in the middle in front of a large TV. Several views were segmented on the screen. He had hidden cameras everywhere throughout the house. A video camera on a tripod stood next to it all.
My eyes landed on Carl. His back to me as he crouched in the open window frame, white shirt stretched over his broad back, tan trousers he'd always favoured covering his legs. He was looking over his shoulder at me
"You gonna shoot me, Sport?" he asked, voice steady and devoid of any inflections.
"Step down from the window and show me your hands," I ordered, gun sighted on his right upper thigh.
"Keen," he said, soft smile on his face. "You shed too many tears at my plaque. I didn't deserve them, Sport. Nor your kind words."
He knew me so well. I was instantly back at the Memorial Wall at Purewa Cemetery, staring at the raised letters on a brass plate.
Detective Sergeant Carl Forrester, Auckland CIB. Loyal, dedicated & honest. The best partner a cop could ever have.
My words. Chosen for my partner. Who had died on the job because I hadn't been quick enough to save him.
I sucked in a breath of air and when I opened my eyes I knew what I'd see.
Carl was gone. The wind billowing the sheer curtains on either side of the window. I crossed to the opening and stared down at the grass lawn, then glanced across and around the street. No sign that he'd jumped or even been there. Cliff Road was empty.
Like me.
Chapter 34
"You shed too many tears at my plaque. I didn't deserve them, Sport. Nor your kind words."
I couldn't be sure that I'd not done it on purpose. Let Carl go when I could have fired off a shot. I'd been too slow at the Mellons Bay cliffs, when I'd been trying to save his life.
Now, I hadn't even tried to fire my weapon at all. I'd hesitated. No, it was worse than that. I'd chosen not to stop him, I'd let him get away.
The consequences of my actions were so vast and terrible, that for a moment I couldn't even breathe.
I'm a cop. First and foremost, I'm a police detective working CIB. And I'd let a criminal go. A murderer go. They should take my badge.
They might take my badge.
Pierce appeared in the doorway; like a mirage in the desert. I blinked at him through a haze. There was an unmistakable question there; in his concerned, brown eyes. He didn't voice
it. He didn't say a word. But we both knew he thought it.
He paused on the threshold of the room, took in the video equipment, the hole in the floor to the support beam below and the mechanism Carl had manufactured there. And then glanced at the window over my shoulder, the billowing curtains and my gun resting in my hands.
I'm not sure if he would have had me on about it, or if he still will at some stage. But right then he lost his chance, because Damon came barrelling into the room. He stopped just inside, registering the scene, taking in everything Pierce had catalogued and much more. Me. Lost and alone; face blanched, hands trembling, unable to breathe. And then he swept across the space to wrap me up in his arms.
He turned to Pierce and said, "I'm taking Lara out of here." There was no room for argument, his voice was set and hard. "Downstairs to the back lawn. When she needs to make her statement we'll be there."
Pierce nodded his head as though it was the most reasonable thing in the world to do.
It wasn't. I should have been securing the scene with him. Helping him call it in. Gathering evidence.
I couldn't breathe, let alone function as a detective should.
Damon bundled me up, arm around my shoulders, and helped me down the stairs. Past the lounge, where I could see an obviously deceased Simon Kahui lying flat on the floor. Along the hall and out through the kitchen and utility room. He didn't stop until we made it to a seat under a gnarly old leafy tree at the back of the yard.
"Breathe," he instructed, and for a while that's all I did.
Carl Forrester had killed five people in order to keep me safe and in return I'd not killed him. Was it a debt well paid? Or was I now that much closer to crossing the line, to joining him on the other side as a rogue.
I started rocking, my arms wrapped around my waist, my breaths rasping as my eyes watered and my throat closed.
What had I done? What had Carl made me into?
"This is how it will be," Damon said softly, running a hand up and down my back soothingly. Offering me a miraculous lifeline, pulling me from frigid and turbulent seas. "You know CIB will be called in, Inspector Hart will turn up here. So will, probably, Cawfield among others. You won't show them how much this has hurt."
A Flare Of Heat (H.E.A.T. Book 1) Page 31
