by JD Nixon
My phone, as well as all personal items had been taken away from me, and my bootlaces, socks and belt were removed on entry.
I fell asleep again, not sure of the time when I woke or how long I’d been out. I didn’t want to front a magistrate in the state I was in, with a dirty, soiled uniform, messy hair, unbathed and my teeth unbrushed. Nobody was going to make a good impression in those circumstances.
An officer rattled my door. “Visitors for you, Chalmers.”
I won’t deny it – when Corby and Clive appeared at the door to my cell I started crying, so happy to see them, though embarrassed by my appearance. The officer led me to an interview room, where he stood outside watching through the glass panel.
I sat on one side of the desk, Clive and Corby on the other.
“Tilly, you look disgusting,” Corby wrinkled his nose. “What happened?”
My speech had improved and my clarity had returned in the time I’d slept. “Malefic.”
“Malefic?” asked Corby. Clive sat back, his grey eyes steady on me. “Is that the magician guy?”
“Not a magician. I don’t really know what he is. I’m so thirsty. Do you think I could have some water? I think Malefic drugged me.”
Corby stood up and opened the door, speaking quietly to the officer. A bottle of warm water soon arrived. Corby opened it for me. I drank half without a breath.
“Thank you. I don’t know why I’m here. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He patted my hand. “Has anyone interviewed you yet?”
“No.”
He rose again and spoke to the officer for a few minutes.
“They’re having a very busy day,” Corby informed us afterwards. “There aren’t any detective teams available at the moment.”
I put my head in my hands, wishing I could wake up and find myself safely in my bed, all this just a terrible nightmare.
“It’ll be okay, Tilly. We know you’ve done nothing wrong,” soothed Clive in an unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, tone.
“Thank you,” I said. “If only the police had listened to me, I might have been able to explain.”
“Well, I’m listening,” Corby assured, pulling a legal pad out of his briefcase. “Tell me the whole story.”
Half an hour later, after Corby had patiently extracted my version of the events from me, one of the desk officers came into the room.
“Your client is free to go,” she told Corby. “She won’t be charged with anything.”
“What? Just like that? Can we at least have an explanation?”
“Several of the girls, now well enough to be interviewed, have basically told us the same story. We also spoke to your client’s work partner, who was able to show us her text message sent from inside the van. We have the security camera footage clearly showing your client following the group of girls down into the carpark. Also the station received a report from . . .” She checked her hastily scrawled notes. “. . . someone called Delia at The Grateful Gourmet who received a strange phone call she dismissed as a hoax until the news of the girls’ abduction was broadcast.”
Good old Delia, I thought, sipping some more water.
The desk officer kept talking. “This Malefic man appears to have drugged all the girls with the same substance. That’s now being tested as it’s not one of the usual drugs of disempowerment we run across. Unfortunately, none of the girls was able to give us any description of where they were taken, so we’re hoping your client will be able to help us with this.”
“My client will now be going home for a shower, some hydration, and to be checked by her doctor. She may be available for interviewing tomorrow. Give me the contact details of the assigned investigating detectives when they’re known and I’ll contact them directly. I don’t want anyone in the police service to contact my client. All queries must come through me.”
“We’ll let you know,” she snapped, no longer able to mask her dislike of pushy lawyers.
At the front desk, Clive collected my personal belongings, painstakingly checking off each of them against the list, much to the annoyance of the duty officer and the hundred other people waiting to be processed.
On the way out, we passed the two cops who’d initially pulled me over, staring back at them as much as they stared at me.
“Where are you going?” the second cop demanded.
“She’s going home where she belongs, a free woman,” informed Corby.
Clive swept us on our way, but it was impossible not to hear the muttered, “Lawyers. They can get any snake off the hook,” from one of the cops.
“It’s not hard when they’re innocent,” Corby said loudly over his shoulder at them.
Chapter 30
I collapsed in the back seat of Clive’s 4WD. Corby risked his thousand-dollar suit to reach over my smeared uniform to do up my seatbelt. I tried to repay his kindness by not throwing up on him.
“God, what a horrible adventure,” I said.
“I have some good news for you though. That boot camp has agreed to refund every cent paid by all the women who ‘escaped’,” Corby told me.
“They were pretty adamant they were going to sue the arses off us. What made them change their mind?”
“I may have used some strong terms in approaching them,” he smiled. “I understand they thought it best to settle than be dragged through the courts, all their dealings made public.”
I shook my head. “You lawyers. You have a million tricks up your sleeve.”
Corby winked at me. “Million and one. But to be honest with you, it was probably a personal visit from Heller a while ago that convinced them.”
“Probably.”
Back in my own flat, Clive waited while I showered and changed into fresh clothes, adding to my already overflowing laundry basket. I drank more water and lay on my bed, giving in to sleep until Dr Kincaid arrived.
He plonked his bag on my bed, not happy at being at the Warehouse. “I’m going to ask Heller for a bonus this year, just for looking after you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What happened this time?”
“I think I was drugged with something. One minute I was okay and the next I was all woozy with blurred vision. Later, I couldn’t speak properly. The cops thought I was wasted.”
“How are you feeling now?”
“Okay. Tired, thirsty, bit of a headache.”
“Did they run any tox tests on you at the cop shop?”
“None,” said Clive. “Too busy to even interview her.”
“Any vomiting?”
“Yes,” butted in Clive. “She was covered in vomit when we picked her up from the watch house.”
“I wasn’t covered in it. There was a normal amount,” I protested.
“Any remaining nausea?”
“A little, but it feels like everything’s improving.”
“Good. How fast did this substance work?”
“I don’t know because I don’t know when it was given to me.”
“Did the person slip you a tablet?”
“No.”
“Use a needle?”
“No.”
“Hmm. Interesting. There are some topical drugs that I’ve read about. Did they rub something on you?”
“No. Oh, wait. He did rub my neck with his thumb or fingers. It was weird.”
“That might be our clue. Where did he rub?” I tried to locate the precise position. The doctor adjusted the glasses on his nose and peered down at my skin. “I’m not seeing anything, but I’ll take a swab just in case. I expect the police lab will be all over this.”
“I wonder if he used the same drug on the teens? They also swear he didn’t give them a pill or used a needle.”
“All very interesting, but I’m really only concerned right now about your health. You don’t appear to have suffered any allergic reaction and seem to be recovering from its initial effects. I suggest a good night’s sleep and some more water. We’ll see how you are in the morning
.” He looked at Clive. “Your night for babysitting her, it seems.”
He and I probably wore identical expressions at that comment.
“I don’t need babysitting,” I insisted.
“Miss, you’ve been unwell lately and now you’ve absorbed an unidentified and powerful substance. Let’s be safe about it.” He nodded his head towards Clive. “I’d rather this great lunk is inconvenienced for one night than to have to spend the next couple of months dancing attendance on you because of some exotic illness.”
After the doctor left, Clive told me dourly he would be in the lounge room, but latched my bedroom door wide open. “Call out if you need anything,” he said, lumbering away.
I decided to pretend he wasn’t in my flat, pulling the bedcovers up to my neck. The next thing I knew, morning sunshine played across my face. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, stretching and throwing my legs over the side of the bed. I felt more coordinated and more coherent.
When I poked my head out of my bedroom, Clive sprung awake from his makeshift bed on my lounge, rubbing at his eyes. “You okay?”
“Yep. Just going for a pee.”
“More water?”
“I can get it.”
Finished with the bathroom, I poured myself a glass of water, sipping it as I leaned against the kitchen bench. “So Farrell received my text message?”
“Yes. But ages after you sent it. The ambulance took a long time to arrive.”
“Why? That person was having a heart attack. They should have been there quicker.”
“Hospital ramping. All the ambulances were stuck in queues at emergency departments, waiting for a free bed so they could unload their patients. It was on the news last night. There were people piled everywhere – in wheelchairs, on beds in corridors waiting to be seen, stuck in the ambulances. Not a good time to be sick around here.”
“My New Year’s resolution is to never be sick again.”
“It’s not New Year’s Eve.”
“Don’t care. I’m making a fresh one. My old one hasn’t panned out too well.”
“What was it?”
“To have a healthy, happy year.”
“Shit happens. Sometimes there’s not much you can do about it.” And that was probably as philosophical as Clive ever got.
“I’d like to return to finish the job at the conference today.”
“I don’t think that’s wise. We don’t know the full side effects of this drug yet.”
“I’m fine, really. And I hate to abandon a job before it’s finished. Please?”
He stood, ready to depart. “I’m assigning another man to the job with Farrell. But if you want to go as an interested observer, who am I to get in your way?”
“I take it that means no uniform?”
“It’s too baggy on you anyway,” he said, the suggestion of an ironic smile shadowing his lips.
By the time I was ready to leave, I’d missed catching a lift with Farrell and the other guy. Dressed in jeans, I drove my own car to the convention centre, using the same carpark where so much drama had taken place yesterday. I hadn’t been lying to Clive when I’d said I felt fine, with no more residual aftereffects than someone almost recovered from a mild cold.
I found Farrell in no time. He stood with a new guy I’d only ever seen in the crowd of men, either side of the hall doors.
Farrell watched me approaching with no expression on his face. I wondered if I had any expression on mine. Closing in on them, I nodded to the new guy.
“Chalmers, you scared the life out of me by disappearing yesterday.”
“Have you heard how that guy you worked on is going?”
“Tom told me this morning that he survived. I had to continue CPR for about an hour while we waited and waited. The paramedics had been working eighteen hours straight with no breaks. It was a mess.”
“Must have been a busy day all round. The cops were too busy to process me.”
“Heard you spent some time in the watch house.”
“I can’t recommend it for your next vacation.”
“Better cancel that booking I had.” We looked at each other. “Why, Chalmers? Why’d you put yourself in so much danger?”
“You told me to keep an eye on them. You were too busy to help me and I didn’t want to lose track of them.”
“You should have called the police, not tried to deal with those five people yourself.” And for a rebuke, it was a pretty mild one. I didn’t mind hearing it.
“The cops were so busy they mightn’t have been able to do anything about it for ages.”
“They prioritise the abduction of children. That’s why the information was given to the media to publicise.”
“Did the police say anything to you about Malefic when they interviewed you?”
“Only that he’d disappeared. They’d managed to trace his address using the van’s registration details. But when they got there, it was abandoned.”
“Pity. He really needs to answer some questions. I have no idea what he planned for those girls, but he said something about an important ceremony and that he needed them to free himself from his master.”
“All this ‘master’ business sickens me,” Farrell said contemptuously.
“I wouldn’t care less about it so long as they weren’t trying to hurt others.”
A bent over figure reached the top of the outside stairs, and headed our way, distracting us from our conversation. We waited patiently while Old Dude limped towards us, decidedly less cheery than he had been yesterday.
“You okay?” I asked more out of politeness than interest.
“No,” he croaked. “That woman. She’s insatiable. I had to come back here to escape her.”
“She wasn’t keen to reclaim her virginity today? It’s her last chance.”
“No,” he answered, groaning as he shifted his posture. “She said she never wants to hear the word ‘virgin’ again. This was the safest place for me to get away from her.”
“So what happened to you? You don’t look so good. Or walk so good.”
“She was piece of roughie. I have suffered in the name of love,” he said nobly.
“Lust, you mean?”
“Whatever. I had to shove an icepack down my undies to help the swelling go down. Oh God, my poor goolies. It feels as if someone kicked them ten times.”
Despite my best efforts, I barely muffled my laughter, watching as he shuffled painfully through the doors into the hall.
“That alone was worth the effort of coming in,” I laughed freely.
“Why did you come back anyway?” enquired Farrell.
I was saved from answering by the stampede of attendees exiting the hall for coffee and the bathroom.
“Whoa! Stand clear,” Farrell warned, pulling me to the side.
A young girl jumped on me, throwing her arms around me and pinning me with a wet kiss on my cheek.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. You saved my best friend, Stacey, from that monster. She rang me from the hospital last night. I told her I saw on the news you’d been arrested. She demanded to speak to the detectives immediately so she could tell them everything that really happened. She’s so headstrong like that.”
“Hold on,” I said, extracting her from my body with much effort. “Are you Juanita?”
“Yes,” she said, delighted I knew her name. “Stacey and I have been best friends since we born. I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to her. That weird man scared me, so I went back to the hall. I hoped Stacey would follow me, but she didn’t. I was sick in the stomach when I heard she was missing.” Another throat-choking hug, another sloppy kiss. “Thank you so much for keeping her safe.”
“Juanita, you did exactly the right thing in that situation in seeking out safety. That was very sensible of you. I only wished the other girls had shown as much sense. They could have saved themselves from a frightening experience.”
She waved shyly to me whe
n she re-entered the hall, summoned to the next session.
I didn’t hang around for much longer. There was nothing I could do here and I doubted much exciting would happen today. I went home. I finally did my washing, in between loads managing to ring Mum, take a phone call from Dr Kincaid about my health, delete eight loved-up pics from Dixie, and cook and hand-deliver fresh muffins to an appreciative Daniel and Niq. By mid-afternoon, I was bored out of my brain.
Clive rang to tell me Corby was picking me up in fifteen minutes to escort me to the police station so I could give my statement about the events of yesterday. I didn’t bother changing, deciding my jeans were good enough for them.
As we waited in the reception area, Brian walked past with his partner, Jed.
“Tilly,” he pulled up in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t ask,” I warned, hoping to head off a pile of awkward questions.
“Are you in any trouble?”
“Nope,” I said honestly, glad he hadn’t asked me that yesterday.
“Who’s this?”
“This is Corby, Heller’s lawyer. Corby, this is my brother, Brian and his partner, Jed. They’re homicide detectives here.”
“Hey,” said Jed, his brow furrowed. “I remember seeing your name recently. Wasn’t it something to do with those kidnapped girls?”
“Yep,” I admitted reluctantly.
“You sure you’re not in any trouble? Maybe I could help?” Brian offered. “Most people don’t usually bring a lawyer with them unless there’s trouble around.”
“Thanks, Brian,” I said, genuinely touched. “But I’m only here to give a statement about yesterday. Corby’s here to keep an eye on me, not the detectives.” Corby laughed softly at that little joke.
“You ring me if you need any help or advice. Okay?”
“Thanks again.”
“You have a brother who’s a detective here, and you never once called on him for help yesterday?” Corby asked when they’d left.
