Chandler could see that Gabriel was relieved, all nervousness and fear gone now that he was, in his mind, a free man, now that they had discovered the evidence incriminating Heath. But as yet the scrap of material was the only connection they had, important but circumstantial.
They set off back towards the car park. Soon he and Gabriel were alone with nothing but the trees, scrub and small talk to keep them company.
‘It’s a huge place,’ said Gabriel as they crested a small rise.
‘Very,’ replied Chandler. ‘What do you plan to do now?’
Chandler waited for an answer, but got another question in return.
‘Do you come out here much?’ asked Gabriel. Before Chandler had a chance to answer Gabriel continued, ‘Probably not, I suppose. Too easy to get lost out here. Say I got lost how long would you – as in the police – spend searching for me?’
Chandler knew the answer all too well but didn’t say. Gabriel hadn’t been lost, he’d found his way out. One of the lucky ones. ‘Until we found you.’
‘Really? You lost anyone out here in the past?’ After asking the question he stopped so abruptly that Chandler almost bumped into him. ‘This place . . . I dunno, it gives me the creeps. Like there are ghosts haunting this hill. Could have easily been mine if I hadn’t escaped. But I suppose you have ghosts too, Sergeant.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Haunted by people that you put in jail wrongly or failed to help?’
Chandler wondered what Gabriel was getting at. Was he aiming for the false imprisonment angle? Whatever it was, the conversation had turned very morbid for a now free man.
‘I try. That’s the best I can do,’ said Chandler.
‘That’s not an answer, Sergeant.’
‘Things happen and we try to rectify them.’
‘And if you fail . . . ?’
‘I try not to fail.’
‘Very noble,’ said Gabriel, sarcasm dripping behind the smile.
Chandler decided to search for his own answers. ‘Why do you think Heath chose you?’
Gabriel shrugged. ‘Could have been anyone. Anyone hitching that road.’
‘But it wasn’t. It was you.’
‘It was,’ sighed Gabriel.
‘You mentioned God earlier. Do you think he helped you escape? Why do you think he chose you to get captured in the first place?’
‘I suppose he has a plan for me.’
‘And what is that plan?’
‘I’m not sure. Something I have to do, have to continue. Or something that I must stop.’
‘You’ve stopped Heath.’
Gabriel paused as if considering this. ‘Not yet.’
‘What do you mean?’
Gabriel looked back towards the now out-of-sight graveyard. ‘I suppose I need to testify, don’t I? Get him behind bars for good.’
‘Not if we get lost out here ourselves,’ said Chandler directing him towards the burned-out shack and then the car park.
A quick call to Jim allowed Chandler to meet the car further down the forest road, out of sight.
Chandler escorted Gabriel back to the station and fed him and his lawyer a story that they had to process his release and that with so few officers available it might take a while. Though Gabriel seemed somewhat mistrustful, he didn’t rail against it. He was confident in his innocence.
Mitch stormed in fifteen minutes later with a new vigour, ready to confront Heath with the evidence of his guilt.
‘Get Mr Barwell strapped into the interview chair,’ he said, striding into the office. ‘And have that lawyer of his there too.’
Chandler nodded for Tanya and Jim to do it before turning to Gabriel.
‘We’ll get you out of here, before we bring him in,’ said Chandler.
‘It’s okay, I can face him,’ said Gabriel. ‘I’ll have to in court.’
‘That may be,’ said Chandler, ‘but, as you say, he’s already tried to murder you once, so why put yourself through any more stress?’
‘I go back to the cells?’
‘It’s all we’ve got, I’m afraid.’
‘Is there no other alternative, Sergeant?’ asked his lawyer.
‘He’s disappeared once already. We don’t want it happening again,’ said Chandler, addressing the lawyer but staring at Gabriel.
‘I’m not happy about this,’ said the lawyer. ‘My client stays here . . . for now. But only until I find him suitable accommodation elsewhere.’
Good luck with that, thought Chandler.
Chandler waited for Gabriel to resist, but there was only a reluctant nod. Then he walked towards the cells, as obedient as an innocent man as he was as a prisoner.
‘We’ll be as quick as we can,’ Chandler called after him, but got the distinct impression that his captive was in no rush, exhausted after everything that he had been through.
He was still thinking about this as he entered the recording room. At Mitch’s insistence Luka was at the control desk this time and on the other side of the glass the man himself had already begun the cross-examination, an evidence bag waved in front of Heath’s face containing the missing piece of his shirt.
‘Where did you find that?’ Heath asked. Chandler noted the guilt in his voice.
‘At one of the graves, Mr Barwell.’
‘Okay,’ said Heath. ‘I lost it somewhere. Maybe when I fell.’
‘I don’t think you understand, Mr Barwell. It was wrapped around the handle of a pickaxe.’
Heath looked confused, a little flustered. ‘A pickaxe? How did it get there?’
‘You tell us.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Heath, panic seeping from him, perhaps realizing where this line of questioning was headed. He glanced at his lawyer, a jowly man in his mid-forties, perched on the seat beside him. ‘I didn’t put it there. I didn’t have a pickaxe.’
‘It does explain your hands, doesn’t it?’ said Mitch, maintaining his calm.
‘What do you mean?’ said Heath, staring at his hands.
‘The blistering. It’s hard work digging a grave, no doubt.’
Heath held his hands up. ‘This is from trying to escape. To get away from him,’ he said, pointing towards the door and the cells beyond.
To press home the point, Mitch held the piece of cloth up against the larger evidence bag containing Heath’s shirt. The ripped pocket matched exactly.
‘How would he get your shirt, Mr Barwell?’
‘He could have torn it off when I was unconscious. I don’t remember when I lost it.’
‘And why would he do that?’
‘To pin the blame on me.’
‘Really, Mr Barwell? It seems like a lot of effort to go to for someone he was intending to kill anyway, don’t you think?’
Heath was lost for an answer, so Mitch continued, ‘And now that the ball is rolling you can be sure we’ll gather more evidence. Someone will have seen you pick up the other people on the list.’
Heath’s voice turned adamant. ‘I hadn’t seen that list until you showed me. I dunno anything about the graves other than I saw them. And I dunno anything about the killings other than I was going to be one.’
Mitch pounced. ‘How do you know there was more than one killing?’
He was taking a risk with this line of questioning but Chandler could see that Heath was on the ropes. ‘My client doesn’t—’ Heath’s lawyer broke in.
Heath interrupted. ‘Gabriel said I was going to be number fifty-five.’
‘How did you kill them?’
Heath shook his head. ‘I didn’t!’
‘Come on, Mr Barwell.’
The lawyer tried to intervene again. ‘My client says that he didn’t. You’re trying to pressure him into—’
‘I’m the victim here,’ Heath yelled. ‘I don’t know how they died. And if you’re so smart, get Gabriel to tell you!’
There was a sneering quality to the last comment that seemed to knock Mitch off stride. He went quiet f
or a moment, pacing the room before turning to face Heath, his hands on the table glaring down at his main suspect. ‘We need the truth, Mr Barwell.’
Heath remained obstinate. ‘I’m giving you the truth. You can’t pin it on me.’
Heath’s lawyer finally managed to interrupt his client. ‘I think that’s enough for today,’ he said crisply.
‘Just one last question,’ said Mitch, standing up from the table. ‘How did it feel to strangle them to death?’
Mitch didn’t wait for an answer, but stormed out of the room, leaving Flo to officially end the interview. Chandler met him outside. His ex-colleague tried to maintain the aura of calm but he looked flustered with the heat, the burden of finding proof.
‘I’ll grind it out of him,’ Mitch scowled, loosening the tie from his neck.
He looked at Chandler. ‘Has Mr Johnson been released yet?’
‘No. His lawyer asked but didn’t press. I think he thinks he’s in the clear and he’s trying to play nice.’
‘As long as we’ve got him here, we might as well try and force something out we can use on Mr Barwell. A part of me still thinks that they’re hiding something. A friendship, a past, something.’ There was a calm fury in Mitch’s eyes that Chandler was wary of. A look that suggested that he was capable of anything.
Gabriel agreed to the interview, again without his lawyer, seeming to think that he was now assisting the police. It was only when Mitch asked him how the victims died that his attitude changed.
‘What is this?’ asked Gabriel, staring at the one-way mirror.
‘Just some questions, Mr Johnson.’
‘They sound more like accusations. I thought you had your man.’
‘We need to gather as much information as possible,’ interrupted Mitch.
Gabriel fell silent.
‘So?’ asked Mitch.
‘So . . .’
‘How did they die?’
‘I don’t know. Ask the other guy. You found his shirt there, what more do you want? If I hadn’t escaped he’d still be out there. And I’d be in one of those graves. You, the police, would be none the wiser.’ Like Heath, the attempted accusation had summoned a blast of defiance in Gabriel. Though with Gabriel, this defiance had a spirited cockiness to it. ‘You want him to sign a confession? Break down and spill his guts? He’s a killer, Inspector, a cold-blooded killer. Someone with a similar make-up should be able to see that he won’t give up easily.’
Gabriel glared at Mitch. It was a jagged response, intended to hurt.
It worked. Mitch rose to the bait and shot Gabriel an arrogant grin. ‘I’ve done this before, Mr Johnson.’
‘And so has he. If you can’t make it stick, bring in someone who can.’
Mitch’s grin dropped and he narrowed his eyes. Chandler could see his old colleague getting wound up.
Gabriel laid his uncuffed hands flat on the table. ‘If you’re going to continue to detain me and ask me these types of questions then you probably better call my lawyer. You’ve held me without charge for a long time now and let’s face it, I’ve done all I can to help you, and if I really wanted to, I think I could bring a false imprisonment lawsuit against you, against this station.’
Chandler knew that any threat to Mitch’s status and career would aggravate him. The veins bulged from his temple, his lips so blue they shone dark grey in the light. His blood was boiling but Gabriel wasn’t finished.
‘It seems like the police want to stretch my goodwill to the extreme. And if I can’t sue you, I can at least sell this whole sorry mess to the papers.’ Gabriel leaned forward and glared at Mitch. ‘With your name at the top, Inspector.’
Mitch returned the glare before walking away from the table and out of the room.
Chandler met him outside.
‘Can you believe that fuck?’ growled Mitch. ‘Making us look like idiots.’
Making you look like an idiot, thought Chandler but went with, ‘We’ll have to bring the lawyers in.’
Mitch shook his head. ‘I’m giving it one more try. To reason with him.’
‘You’re pushing your luck.’
Mitch just mumbled in return as Nick called from across the room. ‘Zero-zero-one, Sarge!’
Zero-zero-one – a call from home. Chandler paced to the phone to tell his mum that whatever it was he would deal with it later. As he put the receiver to his ear his mum was talking, as if she had carried on, oblivious to whether someone was listening at the other end or not.
‘– he’s insisting on trying to paint the house on his own.’
Chandler jumped in. ‘I’ll sort it later, Mum.’
She wasn’t to be appeased that easily. ‘I don’t like seeing him up the ladder.’
‘I can’t leave now, Mum.’
‘The important thing is still happening?’
‘Yes, Mum. Just tell Dad not to go up the ladder. I’ll paint it this week. Bye.’
Chandler hung up the phone. He cursed silently, annoyed that his personal life was getting in the way of work again. Then he closed his eyes. He was doing it again. Putting work before family. He promised to rectify it soon.
He returned to the recording room. Luka was still in there but the monitors were blank, the recording equipment silent.
‘He’s finished the interview already?’ asked Chandler, happy that Mitch hadn’t pushed his luck.
Luka’s response was to look anywhere but at Chandler, pretending to fiddle with the controls.
‘Luka?’
‘The inspector’s having a private chat with Mr Johnson.’
Chandler looked at the blank screens. A conversation he didn’t want recorded. Something on the wrong side of legal.
Bursting out of the recording room he made for the interview room. Yohan and Roper formed a formidable barrier in front of the door.
‘Let me in.’
‘We can’t do that,’ said Roper, teeth gritted, legs spread for balance. Expecting trouble.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Chandler.
‘Whatever we need to,’ said Yohan.
Chandler prepared for a confrontation. Jim appeared beside him.
‘What’s happening?’ asked Jim.
‘I intend to find out.’
With the battle announced and lines drawn Nick joined the fray. Three on two now. This was going to be unseemly but Chandler needed to get inside. The three local officers charged. Bodies collided in the narrow corridor. There were embittered cries as the pushing and shoving continued, Chandler catching a short-armed fist to the side of his skull, the corridor too tight to allow for a meaningful blow. In response Chandler thrust his hand up and found a sweaty face, forcing the head backwards, securing a gap to wriggle through and into the interview room.
There he was presented with the sight of Mitch kneeling across Gabriel’s upper arms, pinning him to the floor. Gabriel was crying out in pain.
‘Get off him, Mitch,’ ordered Chandler, pulling at his superior officer, his fingers struggling for purchase on the silk suit.
‘He attacked me,’ said Mitch, attempting to retain his position on top of Gabriel.
‘I didn’t,’ cried Gabriel, trying to free himself.
Chandler knew that Gabriel hadn’t attacked Mitch, his instinct telling him that it was an effort by Mitch to see if roughing the suspect up produced greater results. Or simply revenge for threatening to bring a lawsuit against him.
‘Get him off me!’ cried Gabriel again.
Chandler got hold of Mitch’s collar and dragged him to his feet. They faced off against each other as Gabriel scooted to the side of the room.
‘What the hell are you trying to do, Mitch?’
‘Get some answers,’ replied Mitch through clenched teeth.
‘By doing that shit?’
‘It’s my job to get results.’
‘And what did you get?’
The flushed look on Mitch’s face told him that he had got nothing but sweaty.
Chan
dler shoved him to the back of the room before helping Gabriel back into the seat.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Course he is, I didn’t touch him,’ said Mitch, pacing along the back wall like a caged animal.
‘Is this one of those good cop, bad cop routines?’ asked Gabriel. ‘If it is, it’s pretty fucking see-through.’
Chandler shook his head. ‘No, it isn’t, and I apologize for the inspector’s actions.’
‘Don’t apologize for me,’ snarled Mitch.
Gabriel took a few deep breaths. He looked to have recovered some of his cool. ‘Go get my lawyer. I’ve got plenty to say.’
30
To Chandler’s surprise, Gabriel didn’t ask to be released, just for access to his lawyer. If he had there was little he could have done to prevent it, given what Mitch had done. Maybe a charge of harassment levelled against Mitch or the force in general was in the works. Adding another anchor to the investigation. After securing Gabriel in a cell he caught up with Mitch in his office.
‘You going to explain to me what that shit was?’ he demanded. ‘Attempted beating of a suspect? Threats? Harassment?’
Mitch was unrepentant. ‘I’m here to get results. Sometimes you have to apply force to get what you need.’
‘Not in my station.’
‘Remember who you’re talking to, Sergeant.’
‘I know full well who I’m talking to.’
The friend who shared his teenage dream of becoming a motocross champion. The friend who had dragged him out of Sully’s Gorge after he’d taken a spill and torn most of the skin from his leg. The friend who had dated Kelly Freeman’s half-mutant sister just so he could go out with Kelly.
‘My friend with the melted chocolate in his pocket who looked like he’d shit his pants,’ said Chandler.
Mitch paused. His eyes narrowed. It wasn’t a story he wanted rehashed. A story forever to hang over his head. Mitch spat back.
‘Yeah, well I’m not that boy now, Chandler. I happen to be the man who’s seeing your ex-wife.’
Ex-wife . . . what was he? The words made sense individually but as a collective Chandler was convinced he must have missed something.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m seeing Teri.’
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