Murrook Farm (Sam & Jody Series Book 2)

by Lois Kay

  “I know,” Trishia answered with a smile, remembering the moment from the previous night. The love they shared had almost been palpable and even the memory of that moment caused her heart rate to increase.

  “Good,” Sam grinned, giving Trishia a friendly slap on the back. “Just one word of warning: whenever you ask her, make sure Fiona is not around, or you’ll never live it down.”

  Trishia groaned. “Now, that’s an accurate statement.” She glanced aside. “So, how did you pop the question, if I may ask.”

  Sam smiled. “You may. It was funny. I had this elaborate speech prepared, and I was telling her I needed to go back to The Netherlands but wanted her to come with me and meet my family. Before I was even a couple of sentences in, she interrupted, told me I was rambling and then said the answer was ‘yes.’” Sam grinned when Trishia started laughing. “And then she told me to breathe, which was good because I felt like I was going to pass out.”

  Trishia nodded. “Alright, note to self: no rambling, breathe, don’t pass out. Is that it?”

  “Yup, pretty much.”

  *

  “I don’t care how you do it, as long as it’s done,” Inspector Wong almost shouted, before ending the conversation on the phone and slamming down the receiver.

  A pair of dark, fire spitting eyes turned toward Peter, and he swallowed convulsively, wishing Trishia could have been with him to share the heat. Their Inspector might be a petite woman, but she had not made it all the way to her current rank by being demure. The woman was sharp, intelligent and a force to be reckoned with. Especially when she was pissed off.

  “Talk,” she commanded, taking a sip from her coffee and wincing at the stale taste. She pushed the cup away and leaned back in her chair.

  Peter wiped his damp hands on the fabric of his slacks and took a deep breath. Sticking to the facts as he knew them, he quickly told his Inspector what had happened since they had parted the previous evening.

  Inspector Wong’s face was unreadable, only her dark eyes showed some of the emotions she was feeling. When Peter was relating how he had found the doll in his desk drawer, they flared up in anger, but she remained silent. After he had finished speaking, it was silent for a long time.

  “The girl on the beach, her name is Melinda Culpepper. She’s eighteen years old, and two days ago, she ran away from home. Her parents didn’t approve of her boyfriend, who lives up in Cairns. She was on her way to see him. She was an only child.” Inspector Wong’s voice cracked.

  Peter’s hand gripped the arm of the chair so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. His eyes were cast down, and he desperately fought the anger that was bubbling up inside. He wanted to jump up and break things, but that wouldn’t be constructive. So, Sergeant Jones remained in his chair, and for a moment, he gave in to the sadness that washed over him, saying a silent prayer for Melinda and her family. When he looked up again, his eyes were bright and focused, and Inspector Wong could see the hard glint that she knew was an indication of Peter Jones’ dog-headed determination.

  “Tell me what you need,” Inspector Wong said quietly.

  “We were thinking about surveillance teams around the clock, handpicked by either Trishia or me. We need permission for me to take the security footage with me to be able to review it with Trishia. We’ll make a list of anyone who has entered or exited the building during the period I was at home.”

  Inspector Wong did not answer, but reached inside her desk drawer and pulled out a thumb drive and handed it to Peter. “This is the footage,” she said. “You have permission to handpick a team. You do need to realize I cannot have those people work around the clock. Let me know who they are, and I’ll meet with them in person. They’ll need to know that anyone who leaks any information will lose their job on the spot.”

  “It’s not a hundred percent waterproof,” Peter hesitated, and Carol noticed the conflicting emotions on his face.

  “It’s the best I can do, Peter,” Inspector Wong said. “Unless you have another idea.”

  “Actually, I do, Inspector. It’s just that I haven’t discussed it with Trish yet and—.”

  “Spill it, Peter. You know you want to,” Inspector Wong encouraged him.

  “It’s to keep a tight lid on it all, Inspector. Only you, Trishia and I would know about it, from our end anyway. Um…do you know anything about the latest surveillance technology? It’s wireless and solar powered, and if you have a decent system, it can even run for about ten hours, which is plenty to cover the night. We could use those, Inspector. We could set up some cameras alongside the road and keep an eye on anyone that comes up to the house.” Peter paused. “We wouldn’t have to put anyone’s life in…we wouldn’t have to put anyone on the property. Everything could be monitored from inside the house.” Peter made a conscious effort to push away the memory of two colleagues who had lost their lives during surveillance not that long ago. “With a high gain antenna, we can have a view from the camera from at least three hundred meters away. We could set a surveillance room up at the house, or the guesthouse maybe.”

  Inspector Wong’s face held an unreadable expression, but Peter thought he saw a hint of appreciation in her eyes and impatiently he waited for her response.

  “And you know all this, how?” she finally asked in an amused voice. “Do I need to worry about you, Sergeant? Do you have a secret job on the side?”

  Peter’s face broke into a wide grin, and he shook his head. He could tell by the way his Inspector was twirling around a pen in her slender fingers, that she was contemplating his idea.

  “Nope, but my brother has his own business, and he sells and installs surveillance equipment. I sometimes give him a hand when he’s got a bigger project than he has time for,” he said. “I could get the stuff from him and I trust him with my life, so when I ask him to keep quiet, I know he will.”

  “Did you consider the costs?” Inspector Wong asked, impressed by Peter’s idea. “And wouldn’t it take long to install all that equipment?”

  “Installing is easy, Inspector. Considering we need to hide the cameras from view, it might take a couple of hours, but I’m sure most of it can be done before the end of this day. About the costs,” Peter scratched his chin and looked confident. “I don’t think the Superintendent would approve, so I was thinking of talking to Sam about it. We have kicked around some ideas about security on the property before, so I’m positive she wouldn’t mind investing in a system like this.”

  Inspector Wong nodded and shot the man across from her an appreciative glance. She had always respected Peter Jones. He was as honest and straightforward as they came and she valued the input he and Trishia Waters had around the police station. They were both liked and well-respected by their fellow officers and often it was their contribution that kept the atmosphere pleasant, even in times of absolute chaos and stress.

  “Talk to Sam Stevens and do it as soon as you can,” she decided. “But I want you to keep me informed. And make sure she’s the one who decides which company to go with. I know you’d never use your position to promote your brother’s business, but I just want to make sure everyone else knows that as well.””

  “Absolutely. Thank you,” Peter said.

  “Good, now, you can tell Trish I’m personally going through all the background checks we’ve done on everybody who started working here within the last ten months. I want to know exactly where they came from and where they were at the time of the last two murders. If I find anything out of the ordinary, I will let you know.”

  “Thanks, Inspector,” Peter responded.

  “You’d better take that footage and get out of here,” Inspector Wong advised him. “And watch your tail,” she added with a raised eyebrow. “You and Trishia are not the only ones with a bad feeling about this. The three of us are the only people at the station who know where Alice is and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  *

  After spending almost two hours with Alice, Lisa Bailey came wa
lking back into the kitchen, looking slightly pale and tired. She smiled at the expectant faces that turned toward her and slowly sank down into a chair.

  “My guess is you’d like a cup of coffee,” Joan said, pushing her chair back and starting to get up. But a gentle hand on her shoulder pushed her down in her seat.

  “Sit down, Mom, I’ll take care of that,” Lucy’s voice sounded behind her.

  “Mom thinks coffee is a cure for almost anything,” Fiona said, without looking up from her laptop.

  “I believe she’s right.” Lisa smiled at her. “It’s been a cure for me many times, and I’m not even talking about trying to wake up in the morning without my much-needed dose of caffeine.”

  “I can only have one cup a day. Mom’s orders,” Fiona complained, but when she looked up, there was a twinkle in her eyes.

  “Handling you is difficult enough without you being high on caffeine,” Lucy snorted. “You’d better stick to something less stimulating, Red.”

  “Listen who is talking,” Fiona retorted with a raised eyebrow.

  “Girls.” Joan McDonnell sighed, shooting Fiona a warning look. “Let’s try and be polite, will you, please?”

  Fiona opened her mouth to make another comment, but Trishia, who was seated next to her at the table, put her arm around her and clamped her hand over Fiona’s mouth, which elicited some muffled sounds.

  “You keep forgetting your sister’s girlfriend is a police officer,” Trishia teased. “As soon as you start learning how to, adequately drive a car, I can make your life miserable.” Trishia released her hold on Fiona, earning a poke in the ribs.

  “Are you threatening me?” Fiona asked. “Because if you are, I’ll call your boss and tell her about the way you abuse government property, and then you will have to buy your own handcuffs.”

  “Fiona!” Joan warned.

  Trishia laughed and walked to the kitchen counter, where Lucy was waiting for the coffeemaker to finish its critical task. She leaned her back against the counter and pulled Lucy in front of her, holding her close. Over her dark hair, she cast a look at the group of women who were sitting around the table and again she felt the responsibility weigh heavy on her shoulders.

  “So, Lisa, how did it go? How is Alice?” Trishia asked, using the warmth and security of Lucy’s presence to center herself again.

  “Better than I expected,” Lisa answered with a smile. “In fact, Alice had no objections to seeing me again.”

  “That’s great.” Jody looked relieved. “I am so glad. Thank you, Lisa. Alice needs all the help she can get.”

  “She does need help, Jody,” Lisa said. The expression on her face turned somber. “Before we had our talk, I told you that I thought Alice could be suffering from PTSD and our conversation has confirmed that. As I said before, a traumatic event can cause dissociative amnesia. I do believe Alice’s trauma has been so severe, she locked it all away and ran off.”

  “How did that happen? I mean, the amnesia,” Yarra asked with keen interest, determined to learn as much as she could, to be able to help her new friend. “I’ve seen movies when people hit their head or are in an accident, and after that, they didn’t remember anything.”

  “Well, it is a complicated matter, Yarra,” Lisa replied. “And although there have been numerous studies about it, a lot of things are still not clear to us. A traumatic event can have so much impact that the memories and ordinary consciousness are split. It’s called dissociation, and it can result in flashbacks and nightmares.”

  “Is that what they call ‘shell shock’?” Sam asked.

  “It is.” Lisa nodded. “After the first World War, soldiers, who had gone through traumatic events, did not remember anything about the event itself. But later, they relived their ordeals as flashbacks and nightmares. The frightening thing about PTSD is that, while normally the way we remember things sometimes changes and emotions seem less intense as time goes by, people who suffer from PTSD feel like they relive the traumatic event all over again, including all the emotions and sensations that were part of it. That’s why Alice could feel the heat of the flames and smell the smoke when she was having the nightmare. It was like she was reliving the whole event again. Exposure to certain stimuli, like a sound, a scent or an image can trigger that kind of recall.”

  “Which happened this morning,” Trishia said. “Something we said must have triggered her.”

  “Perhaps,” Lisa answered. “Of course, I can’t give you any details, Trish, you know that. You’ll have to ask Alice. She did give me permission to tell all of you that she suffers from PTSD and amnesia, but the rest is up to her. Our meeting has left her drained, and I told her to take a nap.” Lisa smiled. “I can tell you, that is one heck of a courageous girl in there.”

  “What are the chances of her recovering from all this?” Jody asked in a worried tone.

  “That’s hard to predict.” Lisa raked her fingers through her hair. “But given the fact that Alice suddenly does remember her name makes me carefully optimistic. A stable environment, a chance to find some rest and peace and a lot of tender loving care could work miracles. Feeling safe may help her to finally face her demons and let the memories come so she can deal with them and move on. Of course, the scars will always be there.”

  “What can we do? I mean, how can we help her?” Joan asked softly.

  “Just be there for her. Be patient. Be her friend. And after what I’ve seen already, that will be no problem,” Lisa smiled, winking at Yarra and Fiona.

  “Of course not.”

  “We’ll be there for her,” they simultaneously spoke.

  “I can tell you I haven’t found Alice anywhere in the cyber world of social media,” Fiona said. “I’ve tried searching for Victoria Alice Wilson, Alice Wilson, Victoria Wilson, Alice Victoria Wilson, A. Wilson, V. Wilson, V.A. Wilson, Vicky Wilson.” She rubbed her eyes. “Do you know how many Alice Wilsons there are in Australia? And do you know how many of them are blond?”

  Next to Fiona, Yarra grunted. “No profile picture we saw looked like her. And the age is off, they’re either way older or younger than Alice.”

  “It’s hard to imagine a teenager without a Facebook account, although, not impossible,” Jody mused. She glanced at Fiona. “Would it be hard for someone to erase her account?”

  Fiona shrugged. “Not with a password. You can deactivate or delete the account. If she did have an account, I hope it’s deactivated.”

  “Why?” Joan asked.

  Fiona looked up. “Because maybe she has pictures of her…family and friends. It would suck if someone deleted all that. If it’s deactivated, she’d still have it.”

  Yarra leaned in and bumped Fiona’s shoulder. “I don’t care how tough you think you are, my friend,” she said. “We all know you’re a softy at heart.”

  Fiona chuckled and glanced aside, ready to reply, but the sincere expression in Yarra’s eyes stopped her. “Thanks,” she said.

  Jody and Lucy exchanged a knowing look, while Joan couldn’t hide her proud smile.

  Chapter 10

  After Peter had left the police station, he had made his way to one of his favorite sandwich bars to indulge in a fresh roll with spicy chicken, lettuce, and tomato. Enjoying the peppery taste, he walked back to his car, while his eyes took in his surroundings. To anyone who might be following him, he wanted to appear casual and unhurried, like he didn’t have any worries. Inwardly, he felt impatient and restless. He wished he could just drive up to Murrook Farm and talk to Trishia. But both his partner and Inspector had urged him to be careful, and he knew they were right. Until they could identify the murderer, they needed to be alert and cautious.

  Leaning his back against the side of the car, Peter munched on the tasty sandwich. He took in the view of the ocean and the beach, where a group of teenage boys and girls were playing beach volleyball. He smiled at their antics, and his face sported a grin when one of the boys pumped his fist after scoring a spectacular point. Peter loved li
ving on the coast. He always had, and he could not remember ever being bored when he grew up. There was always something to do. He just hoped that his children would have the same fond memories of their childhood as he had.

  That thought brought him back to reality, and Peter’s face grew somber when he realized that the parents of the girls who had been murdered might have had the same wish. But their dreams had been shattered, and the future of their daughters was taken away by a ruthless psychopath.

  With a frown, Peter crumpled his napkin and dumped it in a nearby trash can. Casting one last look at the activities on the beach, he stepped into his car. Using his rearview mirror, he thoroughly checked for anything that seemed out of the ordinary but found nothing. Slowly pulling up, he steered his car into the traffic and made his way up to Murrook Farm, taking a detour. He made sure to keep an eye on the traffic behind him.

  It had taken him twice as long as usual to reach his destination, but when he finally drove up the road that led to the house, he knew for a certainty that he had not been followed. Peter parked his car next to Trishia’s and stepped out onto the gravel. When he closed the door and turned around, he found himself eye to eye with a German Shepherd. His face lit up, and he reached out to pet the dog on his massive head. However, Kurt let out a low growl, and Peter immediately withdrew his hand. Only then he noticed Kurt was not wagging his tail.

  “Come on, Kurt. Give it a rest. You know me boy, remember? Just stop growling, and I’m sure Mommy will give you a nice juicy leg.”

  “One of yours?” an amused voice came from the side of the house.

  Afraid to make a wrong move, Peter slowly turned his head, all the while making sure he had the dog in his peripheral vision and noticed a grinning Sam looking at him. She was leaning against the side of the house and was twirling around a screwdriver.