by Sydney Bauer
Sydney Bauer has worked as a journalist and TV executive. While Director of Programming for a major Australian network, Sydney was able to indulge a personal passion for US dramas such as CSI, Law and Order and The Practice and meet with revered TV writers such as Steven Bochco. Sydney Bauer resides in Sydney and is working on a second novel, Gospel.
www.sydneybauer.com
UNDERTOW
SYDNEY BAUER
To Jarrod, for everything.
First published 2006 in Macmillan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited
1 Market Street, Sydney
Copyright © Sydney Bauer 2006
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
National Library of Australia cataloguing-in-publication data:
Bauer, Sydney.
Undertow.
ISBN-13: 978 1 4050 3711 2.
ISBN-10: 1 4050 3711 3.
I. Title.
A823.4
The characters and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Typeset in 12.5/14pt Granjon by Post Pre-press Group, Brisbane, Queensland
Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group, Maryborough, Victoria.
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These electronic editions published in 2006 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
1 Market Street, Sydney 2000
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Undertow
Sydney Bauer
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First up I want to thank everyone at Pan Macmillan Australia – especially my publisher Cate Paterson and editor Julie Crisp. Their experience and advice is much appreciated – and their generosity and friendship a valued bonus.
I want to thank my good friend, mentor, critic and guardian angel Brian Johns – for there would be no book if not for Brian who was, and still is, one of the kindest and smartest people I know.
A big thank you also to his beautiful wife Sarah – you were right, sending the fourth chapter was a good idea.
To my father-in-law Ian, who stays up all night to read my manuscripts, and then rings from wherever he is in the world with words of encouragement. Your opinion means everything.
I also want to thank the kind people of Boston:
To Chip Reinhold for all the advice on that unusually hot London night and his friend Sandra Sims Williams whose grace and dignity inspired the character of Rayna Martin.
To Boston College historian Professor Thomas O’Connor – for living and breathing his home town and allowing me to share in his passion for knowledge.
To Boston Superior Court Associate Court Administrator, Robert Penneton who literally opened his door and several other courtroom doors with it – enabling me to sit and absorb, and listen and ask way too many questions.
To Bruce Blake from Boston Police Department. You are the best (and most patient) police procedure expert and headquarters tour guide a writer could ever hope to meet.
To David Procopio from the Suffolk County District Attorney’s Office for letting me see how it all works and to Gloucester Harbour Master James Caulkett (and his helpful assistant Shirley) for mapping it all out and not allowing me to compromise on the geographical ins and outs.
All of you made this a better book and me a better writer and for that I am eternally grateful.
I also want to thank Lee Child and Richard North Patterson – who have been an inspiration since I left my career in television and took a chance by putting pen to paper.
Most importantly I want to thank my family and friends – especially my mother Fae, who never expected anything more, or anything less than my best.
Finally this book is dedicated to Jarrod. I want to thank him for what is in it, and what is not, and for everything else in between.
As for Claudia, she goes without saying, for when she smiles, everything else pales in comparison.
Contents
Cover
About Sydney Bauer
Dedication
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
PROLOGUE
‘If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one to hear it, will there be a sound?’
It was a rhetorical question, an age-old conundrum.
‘Yes and no,’ Judge Isaac Stein answered it for himself. ‘For sound, like most other things is a matter of conjecture.’
Boston attorney-at-law, David Cavanaugh knew when not to interrupt, and so he stood in the Judge’s chambers, still in shock at what had just happened and impatient for him to go on.
‘For a start the word sound has two different meanings; one is a description of a particular type of physical disturbance and the other an auditory sensation. In other words, one is the cause, the other the effect. Thus the answer to the original question is, in the first case “yes”, in the second, a deafening “no”.’
‘Judge, no offence but I don’t really give a . . .’ David took a deep breath. It took all of his strength to keep his anger in check. ‘I can’t believe what just happened. You know this is wrong. No, more than wrong, it’s outrageous, criminal.’
‘So, here
is another conundrum,’ the Judge went on. ‘If two people are at sea and have a conversation heard by only those two, did the conversation actually take place? If the two confirm it, then the answer is most definitely ‘yes’. But if one of them should die, before the confirmation is made, it really comes down to conjecture once again and whether that one witness is to be believed.’
‘What are you saying Judge? That the DA can pull this sickening stunt and get away with it? That they actually have a chance of . . .’
‘Nothing is impossible.’
‘So this is what? A warning?’
‘No,’ replied Stein with a shake of his head. ‘I am a Judge of the Massachusetts Superior Court; it is not my job to hand out any form of advice to either side. It is merely an observation from an old man who has seen too much and still understands little.’
‘That’s not good enough.’
‘A girl is dead, David, and not just any girl. Human nature is both a wonderful and terrible thing. Her father,’ the Judge paused before going on, ‘he will want someone to . . .’
‘And my client is the most obvious option,’ interrupted David, not believing what he was hearing.
Stein did not answer, merely walked towards his fifteenth storey window, the midday sun accentuating the crevices on his tired and world-weary face.
‘Sometimes, perhaps more often than not, life comes down to luck, or in your client’s case, lack thereof. It is not the troubles we anticipate in life that undo us, but the unexpected horrors that creep up on us like traitors in the night.’
Judge Stein turned towards the young attorney with one last thing to say before sending him away. ‘Do not underestimate him son, he is a powerful man. Just be careful.’
1
Three days earlier
She was running.
Not because she was being chased, but because it was the only thing she could do at a time such as this.
She had left the house quickly, the early morning sun forcing her to squint as she turned to look back, just once, before sprinting down the sandstone steps of her family’s expansive 1912 Colonial. The breeze from the back of the house had met with the air now flowing in from the front and compressed the door like an invisible hand squeezing their images from view.
She focused on the sound of her footfalls as they crunched down the red pebbled driveway. Counted them, and then took her first new breath as she heard the click of the well-oiled, six-foot wrought iron gates behind her.
She reached Chestnut Hill Avenue, leafy and quiet, the last tree-lined corridor leading out of her privileged world and down towards Highway 9, which ran all the way into Boston. She would try to catch a cab, and hopefully be at her best friend Teesha’s house within the half hour.
She looked at her watch. It was later than she thought. She would have to be quick, or they would leave without her.
She did not know what hurt the most, the fact her parents forbade her to go, or the fact that he had finally admitted his reasons outright. She had never openly defied them. God, she doubted anyone had ever openly defied her father – ever. Until today.
She shifted her bag over her left shoulder, pulled her long blonde hair over her right and raised her arm to hail the black and white taxi. Once inside she wiped her face and noticed the hair at her temples was damp. Her tears had trailed sideways. She had been running fast.
‘Victoria Square, South End please, and would you mind hurrying? I’m running a little late. Thank you so much.’
Christina Haynes listened to herself and realised just how much she sounded like her mother. But that is where the comparisons would end. She was not like her parents and never would be.
She sat back in her seat, fastened her belt and decided in the very least to try to enjoy this day with her friends. And after that? She was not sure.
How was it that teenagers could wake at six and still be running late for an outing at ten? Rayna Martin pondered this as she threw bottles of water, soda and juice into a wicker basket and placed an assortment of sandwiches on top.
‘Teesha, come on,’ she yelled. ‘We have to go. I only have the boat from eleven ‘til four.’
It was a few weeks before Teesha’s seventeenth birthday, but they were celebrating early as final exams were looming and Teesha wanted to have this day with her friends, Francie Washington and Mariah Jordan, before they hit the study trail and then went their separate ways for the summer.
Rayna had said ‘no’ to the girls chartering a boat on their own but ‘yes’ to Rayna hiring a cruiser from which they could launch their own outboard in the waters north of the historic fishing port of Gloucester, Cape Ann, about forty minutes north-east of Boston.
She would pick up the cruiser at Cape Ann Marina, sail up the picturesque Annisquam River towards Ipswich Bay and then drop anchor, allowing them to putter around the unspoilt white-sanded beaches like grown-ups for a while, having their own mini-picnic and pretending there was no such thing as parents.
Then the doorbell.
‘Mom, can you get that? We’re just helping Francie pack her bag.’
‘Okay, okay but get moving you guys.’
Rayna rushed down the stairs to the front of her renovated three-storey South End terrace wondering what this further delay would be, and was surprised to see the pretty, red-faced teen standing in her doorway. Christina Haynes – the fourth musketeer.
‘Hi Mrs Martin.’
‘Christina, I thought you had to go out with your mom. We weren’t expecting you.’
‘I know,’ said Christina avoiding eye contact, her face flushed and wet. ‘Mom and Dad, well, you know the drill. I decided I wanted to come after all, if that’s okay.’ She gave Rayna a small embarrassed smile before moving past her, down the hallway and up the stairs towards her friends who had congregated on the landing above.
‘Chrissie,’ said Teesha. ‘You made it.’
‘Yeah. Change of plans. Hey,’ she said seemingly determined to change the subject. ‘You better take that swim suit off because I brought the exact same one,’ she said managing a smile.
‘But I told you I was buying the blue one,’ laughed Teesha, her voice trailing off down the upstairs hallway.
Christina had been crying, thought Rayna. Something to do with her parents no doubt, but at this point Rayna was more concerned about how four girls would fit into an outboard built for three. To be honest, she was kind of annoyed at Christina’s parents who seemed reluctant to let the girl out, but happy enough to have her knock back a birthday invitation to go shopping, and hurt Teesha’s feelings in the process. And now she turns up unannounced at the last minute. But this was Teesha’s day and it was no big deal. The more the merrier right?
‘Come on girls, we have to go – now.’
Boston Police Officer, Susan Leigh was pissed.
‘I can’t believe this,’ she said for the fifth time in the past half hour. ‘I mean seriously, what is the Coastguard for?’
Leigh and her partner, Officer Tommy Wu, were on their way to Gloucester Harbour to undertake a mandatory water safety training course as part of an education program instituted by the current Commissioner of Police.
The Commissioner’s memo spoke of an ‘opportunity to multi-skill’ and ‘partake in ongoing instruction’ for the ‘greater good and safety of officers in the force and the community of the Harbour city of Boston as a whole’.
‘Listen to this,’ said Leigh quoting from the memo again. ‘“The program will also foster inter-police community relations and provide an opportunity to share multi-beneficial educational resources” Educational resources? With that bunch of small town deputies? Jesus Christ, what a load of crap.’
Leigh smoothed the sides of her dark shoulder length hair back to where it was confined in a short, tight ponytail.
‘At least we’re on duty,’ offered Tommy Wu who had the annoying habit of finding the bright side in even the dullest of circumstances. ‘I mean, we had to work a shift today in
any case. You never know, it might be interesting.’
‘Sure Pollyanna, while the rest of the precinct is out solving crimes.’
Leigh was on the career fast track and determined not to miss a beat when it came to finding perps, making arrests and assisting the Detectives in their investigations. At twenty-six she had her big brown eyes set on a gold shield by the end of the year, and giving a blow-up dummy mouth to mouth for six hours was not her idea of career advancement.
‘Here we go,’ said Tommy, who didn’t appear at all irritated that his buddies might be solving crimes in his absence. ‘Gloucester PD.’
‘Hicks by the sea,’ rhymed Leigh.
‘Come on Susan, it’s a nice day, we’ll be by the water. Let’s make the most of it.’
‘Sure Wu. Just don’t expect me to blow into some Goddamned mouthpiece after those two-bit fishermen dressed as cops. Everyone stinks of fish up here, and I hate fish at the best of times. They give me hives.’
‘So,’ said Francie Washington, unable to hold it in any longer. ‘I thought you weren’t coming?’
The four girls were lazing in the overcrowded outboard, dangling their feet over the sides.
