by Chris Taylor
“Can you tell us, Agent Stanford, about the events that occurred on or about the week commencing August thirteen?”
Chloe listened as Charlie relayed the story he’d given her. He seemed a little more nervous than before, but then, who wouldn’t be? It wasn’t every day you had to give testimony against your friend in a court of law.
She glanced across at Declan. His lips were compressed into a thin line, his hands clenched into fists. Chloe could almost feel the anger that radiated off him. Her gaze returned to Charlie.
“Agent Stanford, it couldn’t have been easy to do what you did and the law applauds your bravery. You’ve been friends with the defendant ever since he arrived in your unit.” Abbey took a piece of paper that was handed to him by his associate and glanced at it.
“Tell me, Agent Stanford,” he continued, “has the defendant ever expressed unhealthy interest in children in the past?”
Chloe knew the answer to that one. It was a question she’d already put to him.
Charlie stared straight ahead, toward the prosecutor.
“Yes,” he said.
CHAPTER 11
Chloe’s mouth gaped open in shock. A ripple of unsettled murmurs went through the courtroom. She didn’t dare look at Declan.
“I’m sorry?” Abbey said, frowning slightly.
“Yes. I said, yes.”
“Yes, the defendant has shown unhealthy interest in children in the past?”
“Yes.” Stanford looked away, appearing suddenly fascinated with the wall on the far side of the courtroom. “At the time, I didn’t know what to make of it.”
Roger White got to his feet, his expression livid. “Your Honor, this is the first time we’ve heard about this. Agent Stanford gave a record of interview about the events before you today and not once did he mention anything about this. In fact, his answers were quite to the contrary. I seek an immediate adjournment so that I can consult with my client about these fresh allegations.”
With a dubious expression on his face, the magistrate turned to look at the prosecutor.
“Is that correct, Mr Abbey? Is this the first notice the defense have had of this evidence?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I believe so.”
The magistrate frowned. “We have rules about this kind of thing, Mr Abbey. Those rules are there for a good reason.”
“Yes, Your Honor. I understand and I apologize for the lack of notice given to my learned friend. In my defense, I-I was unaware until now this evidence was available.”
The magistrate’s lips compressed. He stared down at the papers in front of him. Eventually, he raised his head and looked at Roger.
“I find myself in an unusual position, Mr White. How do you wish to proceed?”
Roger turned to Declan. An angry flush had spread across Declan’s cheeks. Chloe could understand how he felt. She was more than a little angry herself. She’d asked Stanford the very same question and he’d denied it. Either he was lying then, or he was lying now. Either option was unacceptable and said something about his character.
A frantic, whispered conversation ensued between Declan and his barrister. A few moments later, the barrister turned back toward the bench.
“Your Honor, I would like to reiterate my request for a short adjournment in order to seek further instructions from my client. Agent Stanford’s most recent evidence has taken both of us completely by surprise.”
The magistrate nodded. “Very well. We’ll resume in fifteen minutes. This court is adjourned.”
With a bang of the gavel, the court was dismissed.
Fifteen minutes later, the spectators and lawyers filed back inside. Chloe risked a glance in Declan’s direction. His face was as dark as a thundercloud. Roger White didn’t look any happier.
When the magistrate took his position at the bench, Charlie Stanford returned to the witness box. Neil Abbey jumped to his feet.
“Agent Stanford, before the break we were talking about how the defendant had previously given you cause for concern about his behaviour. Tell us what you remember.”
Charlie kept his gaze directed toward the prosecutor. “It happened about six months ago. We were heading toward Fyshwick to interview a witness. I can’t remember what the matter was about. Anyway, Agent Munro was driving and he pulled up near a park not far from our destination.”
“Did you ask him why he’d stopped?”
“Yeah, I said something like, ‘What are we doing here?’”
“And what did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything. He just sat there, looking at some little kids who were playing on the swings.”
Chloe saw Roger White scribbling furiously on his legal pad. She couldn’t even imagine how he was feeling. She felt like she’d been blindsided.
“When you say, “looking,” what do you mean?” Abbey asked.
“I don’t know. Just looking. Staring. I don’t know… It felt weird, that’s all.”
“Thank you Agent Stanford. No further questions.” Abbey took his seat.
Roger shot to his feet seconds later. “Agent Stanford, you were interviewed about this matter at length by Internal Affairs, were you not?”
Charlie nodded cautiously. “Yes.”
“And yet, you didn’t think to tell the investigator then anything about what you’ve just revealed, even when asked directly, isn’t that correct?”
Another cautious nod. “Yes.”
“It’s rather convenient, wouldn’t you say, that now, more than a month after your initial interview and smack bang before a crowded courtroom that you decide this little morsel of information best be shared.”
Stanford colored. “It’s not like that. I-I must have forgotten. With all the stress and pressure of coming forward to report something like this—something so…so horrible—I didn’t remember every detail.”
“Time had brought this forward in your memory, though you denied this in your original interview? Is that what you want us to believe? A rather convenient lapse of memory, Agent Stanford.”
Chloe stared at the witness, her heart thumping. If she hadn’t put the very question to him that was now the subject of the fresh evidence, she would have believed Charlie’s explanation. Everyone would believe coming forward to report a colleague for such heinous behavior would be stressful and could cause a lapse in memory, but she’d asked Charlie about whether Declan had exhibited any unhealthy interest in children before and he’d replied with an emphatic no.
Something was off. Rather, another piece didn’t fit. Charlie remained tight lipped on the witness stand. Roger White eyeballed him.
“I put it to you, Agent Stanford, that no such event happened. I put it to you that at no time did my client stop at a park and spy on children. I also put it to you that you are lying when you say you saw Declan Munro view child pornography on his computer from a previously finalized investigation of which he had no part.”
Stanford had begun to shake his head even before White had finished. “No, no, no. You’re wrong. He did it. I saw him. I swear.”
Chloe watched as fury ignited behind Declan’s eyes. He stared at Charlie without flinching. It was Charlie who averted his gaze.
White shuffled some papers and then chose another tack. “Agent Stanford, you’re a friend of Declan Munro’s, aren’t you? In fact, the two of you are good mates.”
“Yes,” Stanford answered cautiously.
“And that’s what makes this so hard for you, isn’t it?” White continued in an understanding tone.
“Yes. That’s what I tried to tell you earlier. This has been just awful for me.”
Chloe frowned, wondering where Declan’s barrister was going with this.
“You and Declan spend a lot of time together, don’t you? You work together; you socialize together; you hang out at each other’s apartments?”
“Yes.”
And then she knew.
“In fact, it wouldn’t be unusual for you to spend at least one of your d
ays off every week in the company of Declan Munro, kicking back, chugging down a few beers in front of the television at Declan’s apartment, would it?”
Once again, Stanford nodded. “That’s right. We were mates. Good mates. We spent many a weekend together watching football from Dec’s TV. He has a big screen.”
“Of course,” White agreed amiably. “That’s what mates do. Tell me, did you ever spend the night at Agent Munro’s apartment?”
Stanford looked a little more cautious. “Sometimes. If I’d had a few too many to drive, Dec would let me stay in the spare room.”
White eyeballed the witness, his eyes hard. “He’s been a good mate to you, hasn’t he?”
Color exploded across Stanford’s cheeks. He lowered his gaze. “Yes,” he muttered.
“I put it to you, Agent Stanford, that while you were in Declan Munro’s apartment, you accessed his laptop and downloaded the evidence they found there, over a hundred pornographic images of children.”
Stanford went pale. “No, no, I had nothing to do with it. You’ve got it all wrong.”
White glared at the witness. “I don’t think so, Agent Stanford. I have nothing further, Your Honor.” With that, the barrister returned to his seat.
The magistrate looked across at Abbey. “Any re-examination from the Crown?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Abbey got to his feet.
“Agent Stanford, it’s fair to say you’ve visited Agent Munro’s apartment, correct?”
“Yes, of course. He’s a mate.”
“Have you ever used Agent Munro’s laptop?”
“No, never.”
“Nothing further, Your Honor.”
“Very well. We’ll adjourn until ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Bail to be continued.” The gavel banged sharply in the silence.
The magistrate departed amidst a flurry of black robes. Chloe let out her breath and glanced at Declan. The fury was still there, but he also looked shell shocked. He stood, fists clenched, lips taut, face pale. Flanked by two of his brothers, he stepped down from the dock and made his way into the aisle.
She sat less than ten feet away. His gaze clashed with hers. Pain and anger and a hint of vulnerability burned in his eyes. He shook his head, once, twice and then strode past her without a word.
* * *
Charlie hastened down the steps of the courtroom and strode toward his car. His gut still churned with nerves and fear, despite the worst of it now being over. He spared a glance over his shoulder and was relieved to see Declan, surrounded by people he presumed to be his family, headed in the opposite direction. There was no sign of the little IA investigator.
At the thought of her, his gut clenched again. She had to know he was lying. She’d put the very same question to him during his interview and he’d denied it. He’d told the Master as much when he insisted Charlie ramp up his evidence to include that extra tidbit.
Despite the breach of protocol when it came to giving evidence, the Master was certain once the evidence had been heard, the magistrate would be hard pressed to ignore it and it wasn’t as if the committal hearing was the real deal. It had been little more than a formality. Everyone knew the decisions that really mattered would be made in the Supreme Court. Right now, the Master insisted it was Charlie’s responsibility to ensure the matter made it that far.
Charlie thought of the Master and the assurances the man had given that Charlie’s cooperation in this matter was vital to the Master’s position—hell, to his very life. It made Charlie feel warm all over knowing how much the Master trusted and depended upon him. Only good things could come of having such a charismatic, powerful man in his debt.
That thought made Charlie smile. Reaching his car, he unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel. He tugged out his cell phone and switched it off silent. There were three missed calls, all from the Master.
A surge of love and loyalty rushed through him. He dialed the familiar number. It was picked up immediately.
“Tell me.”
“It’s done,” he murmured. “Just like you asked.”
CHAPTER 12
Chloe took a sip out of her wine glass and sighed. It had been hours since she’d listened to Stanford change his evidence, and her thoughts were still in chaos. The memory of Declan’s parting look had contributed to her unrest. Despite hurrying from the courtroom immediately after the magistrate had adjourned the matter for the day, and waiting outside, she’d seen no sign of Declan or Charlie.
Disappointed and disgruntled, she’d returned to her office and had immediately pored over Stanford’s statement, wondering again about the possible reasons why he’d changed his story. An hour later and still clueless, she’d tried to catch a moment with her colleague to get his take on it, but Webber had been in meetings all afternoon and she’d finally left for home, no more the wiser.
After watering her plants and feeding the neighbor’s cat, she’d filled a glass from the half full bottle of Shiraz she found on the kitchen counter.
What she needed was an unbiased opinion, from someone who would listen and then tell her what they honestly thought of the situation. Someone who was smart and perceptive. Someone like Savannah O’Neill. Reaching for her phone, Chloe dialed her best friend’s number and sighed in relief when she answered.
“Chloe, how goes it?”
Chloe smiled at the habitual laughter in Savannah’s voice. No matter the subject, speaking with her friend always made her feel better. She was exactly what Chloe needed now.
“Hey, Sav. I’ve had a shit of a day and I needed someone to offload onto.”
Savannah laughed. “Whinge away. I’ve had writer’s block all day. The way I’m going, I’ll never meet my deadline. Maybe lending you a sympathetic ear is just the thing I need. Besides, that’s what friends are for.”
“Thanks. It’s not so much of a whinge as a need for a sounding board. I’m in the middle of an investigation that’s twisting me up in knots.”
“They always twist you up in knots, Chloe. I keep telling you not to care so much.”
“What can I say? It’s an occupational hazard.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah… That’s what you always say.”
“Perhaps I should have a career change? Take up journalism, like you?”
Savannah’s throaty laughter brought a tired smile to Chloe’s lips.
“Oh yeah, baby. Do it! I tell you, you’ll never have the problem of caring too much again!”
“Come on; you love it, Savannah. All that political intrigue on top of the Hill. It’s the reason you left the city lights of Sydney to venture down south. Isn’t that what you told me?”
“What I told you was that you’d end up doing your back in trying to twist your body into those impossible yoga poses, but you refused to listen.”
Chloe didn’t fall for the innocent tone. She laughed wholeheartedly at the memory and felt a sympathetic twinge in her spine.
It was how they’d met, not quite six years ago during a yoga class at a gym in Civic. Chloe had been attending for only a month when she’d noticed the new girl at the back of the room.
It was impossible not to. With her mass of auburn hair and a body that would put Pamela Anderson to shame, there hadn’t been a person in the room who failed to observe the arrival of Savannah O’Neill in her hot-pink leotard and matching yoga mat.
Dressed in a conservative black-and-silver leotard and black leggings, Chloe had secretly envied the girl’s confidence as she’d laid her mat on the floor and started straight in with the exercises.
Being a little short on coordination and a lot short on height, Chloe had felt squat and gawky alongside the leggy beauty in the back row. But afterwards, while Chloe had been mopping her sweaty brow with her old, worn towel, Savannah had approached and stuck out her hand in greeting.
“Savannah O’Neill, investigative journalist extraordinaire. I saw some of your moves back there. I have to tell you, I’m impressed.” The girl’s brilliant green eyes had sp
arkled with humor.
Chloe couldn’t help it. She’d grinned back at her and then laughter had spilled over. It was common knowledge amongst the group that even the instructor had given up on Chloe and her coordination.
She’d offered her hand in greeting. “Chloe Sabattini, professional yoga person.”
Savannah had shaken her hand and had raised a single, dark auburn eyebrow. “Pleased to meet you Chloe Sabattini, professional yoga person.”
From that moment, their friendship had been sealed and even though Savannah was three years her junior, Chloe had come to rely on her friend’s uncanny ability to see through to the heart of a matter. It was one of the things that made her such a reputable journalist.
“So, what is it that has you all churned up this time?” Savannah asked.
She said it without recrimination and Chloe picked up her glass of Shiraz and headed into the living room, prepared to unload on her best friend.
When Chloe was finished recapping the events that had led up to the hearing, Savannah was silent for a few moments.
“I heard something about this earlier. One of the journos at work was heading down to the courthouse to get a quote.”
“This conversation’s off the record, Sav,” Chloe warned.
“Of course it is, silly. Everything you tell me is off the record.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Chloe admitted. “On paper, everything points to his guilt, but there’s something about him, something indefinable, that just screams innocence.”
“And of course, you’ve already told me how good looking he is.”
“Savannah O’Neill! That’s unfair! You know I’d never consider a person’s guilt or innocence based only upon their looks! I demand that you take that back!”
“Okay, okay! I take it back,” Savannah laughed. “Mm, you seem a little sensitive about it. Now, why would that be?”
“No reason at all and definitely not one I’m going to share with you,” Chloe replied tartly.
