Promise of Hunters Ridge

by Sarah Barrie

  Her gaze moved to a woman at the front of the pretty specialty shop, who was eyeing her with apparent interest. Short, plump, round face, silver perm. She recognised her, vaguely, but couldn’t place her.

  With a small smile, Mia tucked the overalls under her arm and spent another few minutes looking through the rack of handmade baby clothes. The main street of Hunters Ridge was one long line of independent stores that stocked all sorts of things you couldn’t get in the city. Even as she browsed, two older women were sitting behind the counter, knitting what would soon be on the shelves.

  ‘What are you up to?’ Ally asked from behind her.

  Mia held up the overalls. ‘Like?’

  ‘They’re gorgeous, but too big.’

  ‘Babies grow. How’d Chloe go with the check-up?’

  ‘Everything’s perfect.’

  ‘Of course it is.’ Mia looked again at the overalls, and noted the silver-haired woman still lurking. ‘I think I should get them. You can put them away for later.’

  ‘You’ve bought her so much already! She won’t have time to even wear some of those clothes more than once or twice before she outgrows them.’

  ‘I enjoy it.’ Mia went to the counter and paid for the overalls, handed the bag to Ally and took Chloe, cuddling her close. ‘I just want to pop my head in next door, then we’ll grab some lunch.’

  They walked out onto the street and Mia pointed to a set of herb pots in the next window. ‘Those are coming home with me. Let’s go in.’

  ‘You don’t cook,’ Ally reminded her. ‘Why do you need herb pots?’

  Mia examined one. ‘Because I’m going to learn to cook. And because yours look so pretty I want some too.’

  ‘I suppose if nothing else—and I’m betting on that nothing else—they’ll look nice with plants in them. Until you forget to water them.’

  ‘Critic.’

  ‘Realist. Oh, hi, Cassie.’

  ‘Hello there, Ally.’

  It was the woman from the clothing shop. Cassie smiled at Chloe then looked up to Mia expectantly.

  ‘Mia, do you remember Cassie?’ Ally asked. ‘Cassie is the Hunters Ridge town historian, and she works at the nursing home—she nursed Mavis. She came to the funeral, remember?’

  ‘Oh, right. Hi, Cassie.’

  ‘How is everything?’ Ally asked.

  ‘I’m not working at the nursing home for much longer. I have a bit of a project going. I’m afraid I’m too busy to chat, but we’ll have to catch up another time. Goodbye, Ally … Mia.’

  Ally’s brow lifted as Cassie hurried away. ‘She really must be busy. It’s not like Cassie to rush off. Anyway, are you really getting those pots?’

  ‘Yep. Then we’ll call in at the nursery—I’ll buy some herbs to go in them. Do you want to eat at the nursery’s café?’

  * * *

  The car boot was full when they pulled up at the cottage. ‘We always buy too much stuff. You’re a bad influence,’ Ally teased. Mia only half heard. She was scanning the property.

  ‘Mia?’

  ‘Sorry? Oh, well it’s fun. I’m not working my butt off to make all this money just to leave it in a stuffy bank.’

  Ally didn’t speak immediately. Instead, her gaze moved over the property as Mia’s had. ‘But you’re waiting for something, aren’t you? You think Rob’s coming back.’

  ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘You’re always watchful—cautious. And this exercise thing …’ Ally dropped her gaze to Chloe. ‘I worry about it too. More now because of Chloe.’

  Just what are you prepared to do, I wonder, to make all this go away?

  ‘He comes near her, I’ll kill him.’ She hadn’t meant to say it emphatically enough to startle her sister, so Mia took a breath and smiled. ‘Sorry. That’s not an image I want in my head. But speaking of money, I do want to ask you something.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I want to buy the cottage. Would you sell it to me?’

  Ally’s eyes widened. ‘I told you, you can stay here as long as you like.’

  ‘You also said that when I got sick of it you’d sell it and put the money in trust to pay for Billy’s expenses, because you thought, as Gus’s closest relative, Billy should have inherited the place.’

  Ally sighed. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And I bet you’re paying a lot for Billy’s care because he can’t live unassisted. So let me buy it. You can invest the money for Billy, and his bills are sorted. At least for a while.’

  Ally was silent for a few moments, then blew out a breath. ‘All right. I’ll have Cam set it all up.’

  ‘Great. Let’s unload my stuff from the car, then we’ll pot up these plants.’

  Ally took the sleeping Chloe into Mia’s kitchen while Mia put away a few groceries.

  ‘Are you serious about wanting to learn to cook?’

  ‘Yep. What are you making for dinner tonight? If it’s not too complicated, I’ll come and help.’

  Ally tucked a blanket more securely around her daughter. ‘I was just going to throw together a salad and get Cam to barbecue some steak.’

  ‘I could do the steak.’

  Ally gurgled with laughter. ‘I want to eat it, not turn it into shoes.’

  ‘Ha.’ The phone rang, so Mia reached for it, unloading groceries with the other hand. ‘Mia Morgan.’

  ‘You’re running out of time,’ a trembling female voice whispered.

  She froze, a bottle of sparkling water halfway to the fridge. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

  Screaming. Tortured, terrified screaming made her jerk the phone from her ear. It came through the line loud and clear enough for Ally to stop and stare, eyes wide. Then there was nothing. The line was dead.

  Mia replaced the phone slowly, looking at her sister as she swallowed back the sickness in her stomach.

  ‘What was that?’ Ally asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’ And she couldn’t know. Not for sure.

  ‘Do you think it was a prank, or is someone in trouble? Do you know who it was?’

  You’re running out of time. He might have made that poor girl say it, but the message was from Rob. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I think you should call the police, just in case.’

  ‘And say what? I got a random phone call from an unknown woman and she screamed in my ear?’ She went back to unpacking, cursing her unsteady hands when she dropped the cheese. Who was she? Where was she? It didn’t matter. She was already dead. There was nothing she could do.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Ally asked.

  ‘Yeah.’ Mia closed the fridge and sat beside Ally at the table, staring at Chloe’s sleeping form in the carrier. Love washed over her for this beautiful, tiny person.

  Just what are you prepared to do, I wonder, to make all this go away?

  The woman was dead. She pushed back the guilt at not calling the police.

  No matter what, she’d get this right. She had to.

  CHAPTER

  2

  ‘Cathy Sharpe, twenty-one. Estimated time of death is between five and seven pm yesterday,’ Detective Russell Manning said. ‘She had a housemate, Rhonda Black, a nurse. Rhonda does night shift at the hospital, wakes Cathy up for university when she gets in. She found her like this at seven this morning. He had some fun then finished her with a slash to the jugular. Poor thing didn’t stand a chance.’

  Detective Ben Bowden stared at what was left of the dead woman on the blood-soaked sheets with a mix of sympathy and detached resignation. ‘Neighbours didn’t hear anything?’

  ‘One lot have taken their kids off for the school holidays, old woman on the other side could barely hear what I was yelling at her up close. Over the road is the park, behind her is a vacant rental.’

  ‘Perfect location.’ Ben looked closely. ‘Ligature marks around the wrists and ankles, as usual. Where’s this number you mentioned?’

  At Russ’s nod the body was rolled onto its side. A clearly carved ‘5’ sat at the base of
the spine.

  ‘What the hell is this about? This is textbook Rob Littleton. Everything else is the same. So why the number, and the shift from working girls to a university student?’

  ‘Whatever he’s up to,’ Russ said, ‘his physical type hasn’t changed.’

  Ben zeroed in on a picture on Cathy Sharpe’s bedroom wall, moved back to the body. ‘We need to ask the housemate if the victim had long or short hair.’

  ‘Why?’ Detective Stuart Perkins asked, entering the room and cringing at the body. ‘It’s obvious who did this, right? What does it matter how long her hair was?’

  Ben told himself to be patient. Stuart Perkins, nephew of Commissioner Gavin Perkins, had been assigned to the team because he’d just made detective, was short on experience and the commissioner wanted him working with the best. Ben should have been flattered. Instead, he felt like a glorified babysitter. He didn’t mind working with young detectives, but this guy had a sense of entitlement, an overinflated ego and no real talent for detective work. He kept his ordinary brown hair in a buzz cut that only accentuated the round ball of a head that sat on his puny shoulders. Right now, all five-foot-five of him, from his shiny shoes to his freckled face, was recoiling.

  ‘That photo on the wall looks recent,’ Ben pointed out impatiently, ‘and her hair is well below her shoulders.’ He indicated to the victim’s hair. ‘This looks like it’s been cut off at the base of the scalp with a pair of scissors. If so, why? Every detail matters.’

  ‘Yeah, okay, of course. It’s just frustrating. You’re the number one detective on the force. Why can’t we catch this guy?’

  ‘That’s a very good question.’

  Ben turned to see Davis Walker, a persistently aggravating reporter, standing behind them and looking at the body. Ben quickly blocked the scene by stepping up to Davis and forcing him from the doorway.

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘You’ve got twenty investigators, eight analysts, who knows how many ballistics and other forensics officers all at your disposal—’

  ‘It’s called a task force, Davis.’

  ‘And yet the Devil is still at large. Any comment?’

  ‘How the hell did you get in here? This is a crime scene.’

  He shrugged. ‘I flashed an old media pass at the young constable at the command post, said you were expecting me. He signed me in.’

  ‘Constable!’ Ben beckoned the uniformed officer. ‘No media comes in. Get him out of here.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’

  Even with the constable’s hand on his arm, Davis continued speaking. ‘You seem to be certain this is the work of Rob Littleton. Is this the first victim you’ve found numbered?’

  ‘No comment,’ Russ growled.

  ‘People are worried you’re incapable of leading this investigation, Detective Bowden, what would you say to those people?’ Davis called out before disappearing.

  ‘Dipshit,’ Russ muttered.

  Ben nodded and walked back into the bedroom, studied the scene again. ‘Littleton’s killed seven victims in the city over the last year. He left his fingerprints all over every scene. I’d be surprised if this isn’t a similar story. He wants us to know it’s him. Now he’s playing number games. He has a point to all this. But what is it?’

  ‘Maybe he just wants attention?’ Stuart said.

  ‘He was already getting attention. This is something more specific. Why the number five?’

  ‘Maybe there’s five victims we haven’t found,’ Russ suggested.

  ‘He doesn’t hide them, but it’s not impossible. And the hair thing is new too. I wonder if he’s started collecting trophies.’

  ‘Whatever the reason, bigger statements are more likely to lead to mistakes. That’s exactly what we want.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ben agreed. He thought about that as what was left of Cathy Sharpe was zipped inside a body bag. ‘I want to talk to the housemate.’

  At six o’clock he went to the gym. After spending most of the day working on Cathy Sharpe’s murder, Ben needed to work his body to exhaustion in order to sleep. He was almost there when Indiana O’Meara, another detective on his task force and his long-term friend, walked in.

  ‘Detoxing from another shitty day?’ she asked.

  ‘You could say that. You didn’t hear?’

  ‘Course I did. I was knee deep in the worst part of the Cross working on the last one, but even in the sludge, information seeps through. I heard she came with a number five?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well if it’s attention he’s after, he’s not missing out. Any idea why he’s moved west?’

  ‘Only as far as Parramatta. Could’ve just been opportunity.’ He stepped off his treadmill just as Indy climbed on another one. ‘You want to grab a drink after?’

  ‘Sure. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll meet you downstairs at Monty’s.’

  ‘Deal.’ He collected his stuff and headed for his apartment. Living in the same building just a block from the police station had its pluses and minuses. Having Indy to debrief with was one of the pluses, especially in a case that was so long and so horrific. There was no question this was the most challenging case of his career. And the most important. Rob Littleton was the most sadistic, remorseless killer the city had seen. And that was without his long-running history at Hunters Ridge. Ben needed to find him. And he hoped this latest deviation from Littleton’s normal pattern would help him do that. Was it possible he was devolving? Ben had to hope so.

  He found Indy already at the bar when he entered the popular police hangout. Slim and attractive, with a warm smile directed straight at him, she was quite a picture. He often wondered why he’d never made a move. Now it was too late. They were close, just not in the right way for a romance. She said something to the bartender, who nodded and got to work.

  By the time he’d crossed the room there was a scotch on the rocks waiting for him. ‘Thanks,’ he said, taking a welcome sip.

  ‘What’s with the look?’

  ‘Why did we never go out?’

  Indy grinned and considered that. ‘Because it would be like dating a very hot uncle.’

  He laughed. ‘Thanks. I’m not that old, am I?’

  ‘No, but you’ve always acted like you are.’ She frowned playfully, eyes sparkling. ‘So serious.’

  He smiled into his drink. ‘It’s the stress of keeping young detectives in line.’

  Indy sipped a glass of white wine. ‘Davis Walker found me earlier. Claimed he’d come in for dinner. The slimeball actually tried to crack on to me while drilling me for info.’

  ‘Did you give him the boot?’

  ‘Very close to quite literally.’

  He didn’t doubt it. ‘He got into our crime scene earlier, slippery bastard.’

  ‘Ooh. And does whoever let him through still have a badge?’

  ‘Yeah, but I shaved a few inches off his ego.’

  Indy pulled a pained expression. ‘I almost feel sorry for him, whoever he is. How much did Davis find out?’

  ‘Too much.’

  ‘Can’t wait to see tomorrow’s paper then. Ah, shit. Not again.’

  Ben followed Indy’s gaze across the room. Davis Walker was on his way over.

  ‘Even dressed for dinner he reminds me of a worm.’

  ‘A creepy worm,’ Indy agreed.

  ‘Evening, Detective Bowden. Looks cosy. Got any comments from today’s murder?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Give me something—anything—and I’ll give you two some alone time.’

  Ben’s hand tightened on his drink. ‘I don’t like the insinuation.’

  Davis shrugged. ‘Oh, come on, if you two would rather be snuggling up to each other in a corner of the pub than catching a serial killer, who am I to—’

  Ben shot to his feet and stood over the reporter, every pore leaking aggression. ‘Leave.’

  Davis took a quick step back but shrugged carelessly. ‘Sure. I’ll go hunt up Mia Morgan instead.
Do you happen to know if she’s in the city?’

  ‘She’s not going to tell you anything.’

  Davis folded his arms and leant a shoulder against the wall. ‘Yeah, funny that. Despite vast sums of money offered, neither she, nor Ebony, nor Ally would share their stories. Have they been gagged, detective? The public would especially love to hear from Mia, the woman who survived an hour alone with Rob Littleton. Heard you cosied up to her a bit too.’

  ‘Don’t let him get to you,’ Indy said to Ben when he tensed. ‘The worm is just trying to get you to say or do something derogatory so he can print it.’

  ‘Just one question. I heard a rumour there are more hunters still out there. That the whole group wasn’t caught that night, or since. So that would mean there’s more than one Rob Littleton on the prowl. Correct?’

  ‘Incorrect,’ Ben said. ‘There’s only one Rob Littleton.’ He threw back his drink. Indy did the same and followed him out of the bar.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

  Ben checked they hadn’t been followed. ‘Going back to the crime scene.’

  Indy put a hand on his arm. ‘Ben, you’re letting him get under your skin. We’ve been right over the crime scene. Give yourself a break.’

  ‘I’ll give myself a break when Littleton’s behind bars.’ He shook her off, annoyed by Davis and his insinuations. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Ben’s head was fuzzy when he sat with the other members of his team for a morning meeting. Russ was looking similarly rough around the edges, and Ben felt a stab of sympathy. He knew there was a fair chance it had more to do with his wife’s illness than the case. Endless rounds of chemo didn’t just affect the victim, and Russ had been nursing his wife through it for months. Indy, he noticed, was casting her gaze over Russ too. Probably thinking the same thing. At least she and Stuart Perkins looked bright and ready for business.