by Chris Taylor
The male victim lay face down on the unmade bed, a bullet hole in the back of his head. Blood and brain matter seeped onto the pale bedspread in an elongated stain beneath his head. His pants and underwear were around his knees, but he was otherwise clothed. His boots had left dirty marks on the pale pink-and-white bedspread.
Chase shifted his gaze to the woman who stood crying quietly in the far corner of the room. Blood and body tissue were splattered over the front of her white cotton nightgown. More blood was smeared across her face. A blanket was draped around her shoulders and a paramedic talked to her in tones too low for Chase to hear.
A flash of light snagged Chase’s attention. He glanced around and caught sight of the police photographer. The man snapped off another shot of the crime scene and then changed his position. Chase’s boss stood behind the photographer. Chase sidled up to him.
“What happened, Riley?”
Riley turned away from the scene of carnage and acknowledged him. “Chase, thanks for coming. It’s a messy one. There’s a young kid involved. I’ve called in Forensics. They’re on their way over from Grafton. They’ll be here in a couple of hours. We’re going to need all the help we can get.” He offered a half-hearted smile. “Lucky we didn’t have a late one last night or we’d both be in a world of pain.”
Chase pressed his lips together and nodded. No need to tell his boss he’d been awake for most of the night—not when the woman who’d kept him sleepless was his boss’s sister. Forcing his thoughts away from Josie Munro, Chase focused on the scene before him. “So, what do we have? A domestic?”
Riley grimaced. “I wish.”
“Who is he, then?”
“The driver’s license we recovered from the wallet in the victim’s back pocket says it’s Neil Whitcomb. We ran him through the database. He got out of Long Bay late yesterday afternoon. He must have hightailed it straight out of Sydney and headed north.”
Chase’s gaze shifted to the woman who still huddled in the corner, her blue eyes wide with shock. Her hair was a soft brown color that now lay tangled around her face. She looked like she was in her late thirties. Shivering and dazed, she barely resembled the pretty, young woman he’d seen in the wedding photo down the hall. His gaze returned to his boss and he pitched his voice low. “Who is she?”
“Kelly Logan. Thirty-seven years old. Moved north from Melbourne a few months ago.”
“Is she the shooter?”
Riley’s lips tightened and his expression turned grim. “No, that would be Daniel Logan, her twelve-year-old son.”
Chase reared back in surprise. “Fuck.”
“Yep.”
The tragedy that had unfolded in the house became more and more apparent. Chase ran a hand through his hair. Cold dread weighed heavily in his gut. What had started out bad had just become a whole lot worse. Nothing about this night was going to end well.
“Where’s the boy?” he asked.
“I told Jake to take him out of here. I think they’re waiting in the kitchen.”
CHAPTER THREE
The boy’s tousled head glinted like gold under the soft lighting in the kitchen. The resemblance to his mother was plain to see. Dark shadows haunted his eyes, but Chase guessed sleep was the last thing on the boy’s mind. He sat in a worn pine chair near the kitchen table and stared at the cracked linoleum floor, his body as still as if he’d been nailed to the spot.
Chase approached him quietly, his heart heavy. He caught the eye of Jake Simons, the constable who had removed the boy from the scene and gave the officer a brief nod of acknowledgement. Hunkering low, he brought himself down to eye level with the boy.
“Hey, buddy. I’m Chase, one of the detectives from Watervale. What’s your name?” The boy continued to stare at the floor. Chase tried again.
“I’ve just come from your mom’s bedroom. Something happened here tonight, buddy. I really need you to tell me about it.”
Still, the boy remained silent and immobile. Chase glanced up at Jake, who shrugged. He swallowed a sigh. He hated to manipulate the boy’s emotions, but he was left with no choice.
“Listen, buddy, if you don’t talk to me, I’m going to have to go back in and question your mom. She’s pretty upset in there. You don’t want me to upset her any further, do you?”
The needling had its desired effect. The boy’s head snapped up, his eyes fierce. “No!” Just as quickly, his head dropped back down until his chin almost touched his chest. He rocked back and forth on his chair. Fat tears slid down his cheeks.
Chase felt like a prick. He was harassing a child, a boy who had suffered through the worst kind of horror and torment way too early in his life. If it wasn’t so necessary to know what had happened, Chase would have offered comfort, like he wanted to, rather than threats. He stood and met Jake’s gaze. The constable’s expression was also tortured.
“I’m going to confer with the boss,” Chase murmured. Jake merely nodded.
Retracing his footsteps, Chase returned to the bedroom. Riley now stood near Daniel’s mother, talking quietly to her. She responded through gasps and sobs, her words disjointed.
Chase cleared his throat to gain Riley’s attention.
Riley glanced up at him and then eased himself away from the woman. “What is it?” he asked when he reached Chase, his voice pitched low.
“It’s the boy. He’s in a bad way. Shocked almost to the point of muteness. Can barely spit out a syllable. We’re not going to get anything out of him while he’s in that state. What did you get out of the mother?”
Riley’s lips compressed into a thin line. “A little, but she’s still in shock. She lives here with her husband, Trevor Logan and their two sons. Trevor’s a truck driver for New England Transport. Right now, he’s out on the road. We’ve tried to contact him, but he hasn’t answered his phone. Probably asleep.”
Chase closed his eyes and shook his head. “Poor bastard.”
“Yeah. Anyway, Kelly said she was in bed asleep when she was woken by a noise. The next thing she knew, Whitcomb was standing over her, threatening her with a knife. She didn’t want him to discover her sons, so she did her best to stay quiet. Unfortunately, Daniel woke and came upon them.
“Hell.”
Riley drew in a deep breath and released it on a heavy sigh. “Yeah. By that time, Whitcomb had his pants down. Daniel saw everything. She tried to warn him away. He left, but a few minutes later he returned, this time with a gun. He put a bullet through the back of Whitcomb’s head.”
“Did you find the knife?”
“Yeah, a four-and-a-half-inch Bowie. It had fallen down the side of the bed. Whitcomb’s got a scabbard on his belt.”
Dread cemented in Chase’s gut. Knowing he would have done the same thing if he’d been in Daniel’s position didn’t make it any easier.
“Christ,” he breathed, shaking his head slowly. “No wonder the poor kid isn’t talking.”
“Yeah. No wonder.” Riley sighed again. “What do you want to do?”
“I’m not going to hound him any further. He’ll talk when he’s ready. We need to get someone in to see him, a professional trained to deal with children and trauma.”
Riley nodded. “My sister Josie’s just returned home. She took up a private position through Rural and Regional Health in Watervale about a month ago. She’s a child psychologist. I could call her and see if she can meet us at the station.”
Chase stared at Riley in surprise and his heart pumped double time. Josie. The sweet sound of her name rolled silently off his tongue. He didn’t realize she’d left Brisbane and was so close by.
Nervousness surged through him, coupled with an underlying feeling of anticipation. He’d been in love with Josie Munro all of his life. The last time he’d seen her was the night of her high school graduation. It had been the most beautiful night of his life.
Then the memories of what happened afterwards crashed in on him and he had to turn away. The pain of it, as raw and fresh as if it ha
d happened yesterday, battered him from all sides.
He’d promised her a future and he’d reneged. He hadn’t even told her why. She’d loved him; she’d trusted him, she’d believed in him…and he’d let her down. The hurt he’d caused was ingrained in his memory. It would be naïve for him to think she could ever recover from it, let alone forgive him, no matter how much he yearned that things could be different.
“Chase? Are you okay?”
The concern in Riley’s voice reached him through the plethora of decade-old memories. With a determined effort, Chase shut down the personal thoughts and concentrated on his boss.
“I-I’m fine. I was just thinking about…all of this.”
“Yeah, it’s a fucking tragedy all round.” Riley’s gaze fell on the body and his eyes hardened. “Except for this piece of shit. He got exactly what he deserved.”
“Yeah, when word gets out, there won’t be too many around who’ll sympathize with the son of a bitch.” Chase glanced at Kelly Logan who remained standing in the corner of the room, quietly sobbing, the paramedic still by her side. “I hate to think what this will do to their family.”
Riley followed his gaze and his face darkened. “She needs to get to the hospital where they can do up a rape kit. We’ll talk to her again a little later. I’ll call Josie. It’s early, but when I explain to her what’s happened, she’ll be more than happy to help. That poor boy needs her.”
The thought of seeing Josie again after all this time, let alone being in the same room as her, made him feel a mixture of emotions. He pressed his lips together and nodded. Silently, he sent a prayer heavenwards that he’d have the courage to handle it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Josie blinked hard and wiped the sleep from her eyes with her fist. She glanced at the clock mounted on the dashboard of the forest green Boss 351 Mustang she’d borrowed from her father and stifled a groan. Four-thirty. It was way too early in the morning to be out.
When Riley had called her, waking her from a deep and dreamless sleep, she’d immediately thought something had happened to one of their parents. They were both elderly and while they still enjoyed good health, that kind of thing could change in an instant. She had only to remember what had happened the previous Christmas.
It had only been four months since her father had been lying in the ICU, unconscious, after a brain hemorrhage. The scar that ran from the base of his skull to just below his ear was still puckered and pink. Seeing him so still and pale against the white sheets of the hospital bed, with tubes and monitors and other medical paraphernalia surrounding him, she’d been rudely reminded of the fragility of his existence and how tenuous one’s grip on life could be.
After forcing herself to ask the question, she’d been beyond relieved when Riley assured her he wasn’t calling about their parents. He’d gone on to explain in the briefest of detail why she was needed at the station. She’d immediately agreed to come in and it only took a few minutes for her to throw on her clothes.
Now, she peered through her windscreen, grateful for the extra powerful driving lights her brother Riley had insisted she install now that she was back living in the country. The bright beams cut a wide swathe through the darkness and illuminated the road in front of her. She’d been warned by her neighbors to watch out for kangaroos while driving at night and she now had her eyes peeled to the shoulders and ribbon of asphalt unfurling before her.
She was thankful she didn’t live too far out of town. She’d accepted the job before making enquires about the availability of houses to rent. When the time came, she searched on the Internet and was a little concerned to discover decent rentals in Watervale were in short supply.
Her parents had insisted she could stay with them and while she loved them for making the generous offer, she’d come home to Grafton to take stock of her life. Standing on her own two feet, with her shoulders back and her head held high—finding a place to call her own was an important first step on the journey.
Not that she could call a rental house her own, but at twenty-eight, it would be better than moving back in with her parents, no matter how dearly she loved them. To move home would have been the easiest thing to do, but it would feel like she’d failed to make it if she took that route.
A week before she was due to start her new job, she’d stumbled across an advertisement in the local paper. The house had been listed privately and she’d immediately called the landlord. The cottage was small, but it was only a ten-minute drive from Watervale. When she’d taken a look at the place, she’d fallen in love with the serenity of the quiet green fields that surrounded it. She could imagine having a dog and a cat and she had just the right chair for the front porch. There was plenty of room for a veggie patch and maybe even a few chickens.
She smiled and turned to the landlord, who’d been waiting a little anxiously behind her. ‘I’ll take it,’ she’d said and signed a six-month lease on the spot.
Now, the lights of Watervale showed up in the distance and Josie swallowed a sigh. In a very short time she’d be facing a boy who from all accounts had been traumatized to such a degree he was almost mute. She hadn’t asked Riley what had caused it and he hadn’t offered. He’d only asked for her help. She hoped she was up to the task.
* * *
Josie parked in the car park adjacent to the modest brick building that housed the Watervale Police Station. Collecting her briefcase, she stepped out of the Mustang and tugged her jacket closer around her. The night air had a definite chill to it, reminding her that winter wasn’t far away. It came so much earlier in Watervale. The northern climes of Brisbane, not far from the coast, were almost immune to its effects. She’d never worn a winter coat while she’d lived there.
The lights of the station beckoned. Blinking away the last vestiges of sleep, she entered the building through the automatic glass sliding doors and made her way over to the counter. Her gaze focused on the man who stood behind it. A second later, her brain registered the all-too familiar face and her mouth dropped open.
Chase Barrington stared back at her. How…? Her heart stopped still and then took off at a pounding gallop. He was the last person she’d expected to see. She’d had no idea he was stationed here at Watervale. At least, she assumed he was an officer. He’d been in training to become one when they’d last met. He wasn’t dressed in a uniform, but he stood behind the counter in such a manner that made her think he belonged there.
Against her will, her gaze ran over the broad shoulders that were only emphasized by his navy blue, tailored suit and pristine white business shirt. His hair was as dark and unruly as she remembered. Boy, did she remember. The longish curls wrapped intimately around his ears, like they used to around her fingers.
The memory sent a surge of anger flooding through her. She hadn’t seen him for a decade. For ten years, her questions had gone unanswered. For months, even years, after he’d left, she’d struggled with the injustice of it.
How he could love her one day, and ignore her the next? And not only ignore her—completely and utterly cut her off without a word of explanation. Not a phone call or text, not even an email.
It had taken her a long time, but she’d eventually managed to put it all behind her, refusing to dwell on the pain that had marred her youth. The only relief she’d found was that her single night in his arms hadn’t resulted in a pregnancy. As close as she was to her family, she hadn’t told a single soul about what had happened, preferring to bury the pain and humiliation in a deep dark place inside her. A teenage pregnancy would have made that impossible.
She closed her eyes briefly at the memory and steeled herself to acknowledge him. With more courage than she thought she could muster, she lifted her gaze to his and bit back a gasp. His eyes burned with an emotion so fierce she took a step back.
Confusion whirled inside her. Was he angry? What right did he have to be angry? No, she must be mistaken. It couldn’t be anger. She was the one who had the monopoly on that emotion. After a
ll, she’d been the one who was dumped.
Refusing to let him see how much his presence affected her, she arched her eyebrows in a casual show of surprise.
“Chase Barrington? Is it you? Are you working here, in Watervale?”
Chase stared at her. His jaw moved and then he swallowed. A flush crept up his neck. He opened his mouth and finally uttered a few words.
“Josie Munro. Fancy seeing you here? Riley only just told me you’d moved back from Brisbane. What have you been up to?”
Josie desperately looked around for her brother, praying silently for him to appear. When he failed to materialize, she stammered a reply.
“I-I’m a child psychologist. I’m privately contracted with Regional and Rural Health, but I suspect Riley’s already told you that or else I wouldn’t be here. What’s the problem? Riley mentioned something about a boy.”
Chase drew in a breath, as if relieved to have another topic to focus on. “Yes, Daniel Logan. Twelve years old. Tonight he shot and killed the man who was raping his mother.”
“Oh, God.” The hoarse words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them. Her mind flooded with visions of the poor child who was no doubt replaying the night’s events in all its Technicolor detail and wondering how the hell it had happened.
“Where is he?” she asked, in a voice that wasn’t quite steady.
Chase’s lips compressed. He looked at her with sympathy and understanding and something else she wasn’t brave enough to define.
Josie looked away. She didn’t have time for distractions.
“He’s in Interview Room Three. If you head over that way, I’ll go and unlock the door and take you down to see him.”
Josie turned and looked behind her at the door Chase indicated, relieved to put a little distance between them. A moment later, the door swung open, cutting her relief short. Chase met her on the other side. She stepped through the doorway and the sleeve of her jacket slid up against his. Emotion flared in the emerald-green depths of his eyes, halting her breath. A second later, it was gone.
