No Ocean Deep

by Cate Swannell

  She hadn’t yet figured out exactly how she felt about it all. The Chicago house had been something of which both she and Naomi had been very proud. It was in an old part of the city and they’d spent a lot of time and money renovating it and making it exactly what they both wanted. Saying goodbye to it, finally and forever, wasn’t necessarily something Cadie felt happy about.

  M’losing a lot, she considered. A lot of pieces of history. She thought about Naomi’s extended family, including nephews and nieces of whom she was really quite fond. A lot of people.

  She contemplated that as she dodged around a slow-moving car that refused to move out of the middle lane of the highway.

  Then again, look at what I’m gaining. A vision of Jo’s face filled her mind’s eye and she couldn’t help smiling. More love than I’ve ever known and no strings attached. No game-playing, no politics, no bullshit neediness and the kind of equality in a relationship I’ve always craved. All wrapped up in a drop-dead gorgeous package. Cadie overtook a UPS semi-trailer and ducked back into the slower lane once she had passed. Not that that’s important, her thought process continued. A lovely bonus, admittedly. She grinned to herself. But it’s Jo and that feeling of safety that I get when I’m with her that I love. I never had that with Naomi, not even in the early days. I never quite knew what she was thinking. So I guess I can live with what I’m losing, because what I’m gaining is more important to me. I don’t think I really believed that until I got back here.

  She rested her left elbow on the windowsill and let the wind whip through her hair as she pushed the car just above the speed limit.

  I can’t wait to get the next couple of days over and done with, though.

  Jo sat across the small table from Ken Harding and tried not to think too much about the big man’s eating habits. They were sharing a late breakfast in a café across the road from the court complex and Jo winced as she watched the detective plowing his way through a plate of bacon and eggs like a man who hadn’t eaten in a month. She contemplated starting a conversation but the thought of him trying to talk with his mouth full almost put her off the croissants and black coffee in front of her.

  She had spent most of the weekend inside the hotel, making use of its swimming pool and gymnasium to ward off boredom and lethargy. The thought of being out and about in the city, particularly when her former colleagues knew she was in town, didn’t seem all that sensible, even if she had wanted to. The highlight of her weekend had been the twice-daily phone calls with Cadie.

  Breakfast with Harding had been her concession to turning down his dinner invitation on Friday.

  “You not hungry?” Harding finally said around a mouthful of fried egg as he watched Jo pick at a corner of her croissant.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” she replied, giving him a half-smile. “Just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

  Harding slurped at his cup of coffee and looked at her over its rim. “Don’t worry about it,” he said casually before diving in for another noisy mouthful. “They’ll be done with you today for sure. You’ll probably be home by tonight.”

  “Trouble is, I don’t want to be home,” Jo muttered, not really intending for him to hear. She glanced up in time to watch Harding drip a glob of egg yolk on to his tie and she winced again. He was oblivious, noisily chewing on another forkful of bacon. Jo twirled her coffee cup absentmindedly with the fingers of her right hand. “Ken, can you find something out for me?”

  Harding stopped eating long enough to look at his breakfast companion more carefully. She looks buggered, he realized, noticing the dark circles under her eyes for the first time. Missing that little American sheila, I bet. Jo had told him about Cadie’s trip when he had wondered why she hadn’t hung around for the court case.

  “If I can,” he said aloud, putting his knife and fork down. “What’s up?”

  Jo gazed into the depths of her coffee for a few more seconds before she looked up, almost as if she’d made an important decision, just that second.

  “You know Cadie’s in the US, right?” she asked, continuing on when she saw Harding’s answering nod. “If I wanted to go over there to join her, what would it take?” He hesitated and she rushed on. “I mean, I guess I’ve kind of just assumed that with my criminal record, that they wouldn’t let me in the country, but … I don’t know … I guess I just wondered if you knew for sure.”

  Harding blinked at her, surprised that she was turning to him for the information.

  “Um … no, I don’t know for sure, not off the top of my head,” he answered gruffly. “I can find out though, if you give me a few hours.”

  Jo brightened considerably. “Can you? That would be fantastic. I just want to know for sure, if you know what I mean. If I can go, then I think I want to.”

  Harding cleared his throat, unnerved by the look on Jo’s face. Even though he’d seen quite a bit of her since they’d reconnected earlier in the year, he still expected to see that hard, cold expression that had been so characteristic of her persona during her killing years. Seeing her oscillate from lonely depression through to quiet hopefulness in the space of a few seconds was more of a surprise than he cared to admit. Hard to believe it’s the same woman sometimes, he thought.

  “Yeah, well, they probably won’t need me for more than a few minutes in court today,” he said. “Then I can make some phone calls for you, see what the go is.”

  “Thanks Ken,” Jo said quietly, smiling across at him. The day was looking up.

  Cadie slung her overnight bag over her shoulder and tucked a few packing cases under her other arm. It was well after dark and the large house in front of her was completely unlit. She juggled her house keys in her free hand, using the light from the car’s interior to help her find the key that would open the front door. Finally she had it and she made her way up the path to the imposing portal. She was a little disconcerted that the movement-sensitive security lighting hadn’t come on when she’d pulled into the driveway.

  I guess Naomi disconnected it last time she was here, she thought. Either that, or something’s tripped the circuit off. Maybe a power surge or a blackout or something. God, I hope the power’s not still out. A tiny shiver went through her at the thought and she drove it to the back of her mind as she inserted the key in the lock and turned it.

  She pushed the door open and stepped inside the darkened foyer. With one hand she fumbled for the light switch, her heart sinking when no illumination was forthcoming.

  “Fuck.” The hairs on the back of Cadie’s neck stood up and she fought the urge to back out of the house as quickly as she had come in. “Don’t panic,” she muttered. “It’s just an empty, dark house. You always said you knew it like the back of your hand. Here’s your chance to prove it.” Her voice sounded hollow and amplified in the large foyer, and somehow she found it reassuring.

  She blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. Gradually she began to be able to make out shapes in the gloom.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She thought hard about the layout of the foyer and reached out with her right hand. There was the small antique table, just where she had expected it to be.

  “Okay. Let’s see if I know this place well enough to find the emergency supplies in the pantry.”

  Cadie moved forward slowly, using her hands as advance scouts. She made her way down the corridor, towards the kitchen, pleased to find her eyes adjusting even more as she progressed. The living room opened out on her right, and she was aware of the deep, dark space beyond the open doorway, but she didn’t care to look too closely. She stubbed her toe once on the porcelain cat she had forgotten was sitting at the foot of the stairs, but it wasn’t too long before she wrapped her hand around the doorknob of the pantry.

  It was even darker inside the spacious cupboard, but Cadie thought she had a pretty good idea where to find what she was looking for. She crouched down, relieved to find the box of emergency supplies exactly where she expected it to be.

  “Okay, flashlight
, flashlight, where are you?” she muttered as she dug around in the box. “God damn it!” The big, black torch was nowhere within touch. “Shit!” Another wave of panic set Cadie’s heart racing and she felt the heavy darkness all around pressing down on her. “Get a grip, Arcadia, for God’s sake.” She took a deep breath and reached into the box again, forcing her brain to run through the list of what else was supposed to be in there.

  “Ahhh,” she breathed, as her hand closed around a smaller box she knew contained candles. “Now we’re talking. Matches, matches, matches – yes! Matches. Thank you, Jesus.”

  Cadie felt almost chirpy as she struck a match and put it to the wick of a brand new candle. For the time being she didn’t care about the wax dripping on the floor, or finding something to stand the candle on, she just wanted light. The warm, yellow glow flickered, then grew, and Cadie slid down onto the floor, leaning her back against the open pantry door. She forced herself to breathe more evenly.

  “Okay. So… this isn’t so bad,” she said to herself. “It’s just an empty, dark house. Nothing to be freaked out about.” She laughed, but the sound of it echoing off the walls only weirded her out further, so she cut it off mid-chuckle. “Ugh.”

  A drop of melted wax fell on to the back of her hand and Cadie hissed at the sting. Pushing herself up she went in search of a saucer to stand the candle on. The kitchen was basically clean but there was a fine layer of dust over every horizontal surface.

  I’m guessing Naomi hasn’t been here since she first got back from Australia, she thought as she dripped a pool of wax into the middle of a small plate. Can’t say that surprises me. Cadie dropped the rest of the candles on the countertop and went about setting a few more onto plates. Might as well throw a little light on the subject.

  A few minutes later she had three candles burning cheerily and she picked them up, making her way back along the hall to the living room. One she placed on the side table in the corridor. Cadie stood on the threshold of the spacious room, the candlelight penetrating only so far. All the furniture was draped with sheets and all she could make out were lumps and bumps amongst the silhouettes.

  Might as well start here as anywhere, she reasoned as she took a step forward.

  “Hello, Arcadia.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ken Harding sat in the outer waiting room of the police commissioner's office, flicking through a six-month-old magazine while he waited for the boss to see him. Harding was a mildly ambitious man but the officer behind the big teak doors, the man he had gone through Police Academy with, had him well beaten on that particular score. Not that Harding cared that the man was more ambitious than he. He respected the Commissioner and got on well with him, but that didn’t mean John Stiles was about to grant him any favors. Especially this one.

  Finally the door opened and the Commissioner's full head of grey hair poked out.

  Another area he wins hands down, Harding thought absently as he pushed himself up out of the fake leather chair.

  “Harding! Good to see you. Come on in,” said Stiles, gesturing the big detective into his inner sanctum. “Haven’t talked to you in a while. How's the di Santo thing going?”

  “Yeah good, Commissioner,” Harding replied. “Don't think there's any chance they won't put him up for trial.”

  “Good, good. That's what we like to hear.” Stiles settled himself into his seat and looked over at Harding. “So what I can I do for you this morning?”

  Harding cleared his throat and shifted in his place. “D'you remember Jo Madison, Commissioner?”

  His commanding officer nodded slowly. “One of your pet projects,” he replied. “Yes, I remember her. She put away a lot of big names a few years ago. We had her on some kind of immunity deal, didn't we?”

  “Yes, sir. And you helped me out a few months ago, getting an acquaintance of hers out of a spot of trouble up on Hamilton Island.”

  A flicker of recognition crossed the Commissioner's face. “Was that her? Hadn’t connected the two matters until then but, yes, I remember. So what trouble is she in now?”

  Harding shook his head. “None, sir. In fact she's helping us with the di Santo thing. Actually she's asked for a bit of information on a personal matter, and I thought I'd go straight to the top for the answer.”

  The Commissioner's eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. “A personal matter? Like what?”

  Harding coughed again. “Well, sir, she wants to get to the United States to help out a friend, and with her record, she might need a little assistance doing that.”

  Stiles' brow furrowed. “That's something she'll have to fight with the Americans about, Harding. And I can tell you now, they won't like the idea at all. You know they’re hypersensitive about security matters these days. There’s not much chance they’re going to let a known criminal in voluntarily.”

  “That's where I thought we could put in a good word, sir. With the consulate,” Harding persisted. “Maybe guarantee her return here, or something.”

  The Commissioner looked decidedly uncomfortable. “By we, you mean me, I assume?” Harding had the good grace to blush a little, but he nodded anyway. “Jesus, Harding, that’s a bit of a political time bomb if it goes pear-shaped. How can we guarantee that she won’t go walkabout? She's not exactly trustworthy, is she?” The senior officer glared at the detective for a few seconds before he stood up and walked to the window, where he gazed out on the city landscape.

  Harding swallowed and dropped his eyes as he thought about his response. He knew that whatever he said now would tell the Commissioner a lot about just how personally involved with Madison he really was. He wasn’t sure that was necessarily something he wanted to let John Stiles know. It never paid to have feelings on the job. Then again, this was Madison they were talking about. I always was a sucker for those baby blues.

  “I can guarantee it, sir,” he said quietly. “Personally. I've gotten to know her bit over the years and I can guarantee that if she says she's coming back, then she's coming back.”

  Stiles looked at him and let the silence stretch to a few seconds. “Ken, you've never tried to trade on the fact that we were classmates before. I don’t care about that Hamilton Island thing – that was nothing.” He waved that away with a dismissive hand gesture. “I’ve always respected you for not trying it on that way. So why are you breaking the habit of a lifetime now?” He turned back around to face Harding, leaning his backside on the windowsill and folding his arms.

  Harding blinked and took a deep breath. “I like her, sir,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I know what she’s done, and I know what it looks like. But, frankly, she's done a lot for us. Apart from the arseholes she helped us put away five years ago, she's also going to be the final nail in di Santo's coffin, God willing.”

  “You're surely not suggesting that we owe a known criminal – a murderer, what's more – anything at all?”

  “I'm saying that she helped us and walked away, refusing our protection – saving us a bunch of money, if nothing else – and that she's kept her nose clean and now is doing more to put away a bloke we've been chasing down for years.” Ken cleared his throat again. “And, the bottom line is, I trust her, sir.”

  The Commissioner ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “You’re asking an awful lot, Harding,” he growled.

  “I know, sir.” And you’re never gonna let me forget are ya, you bastard.

  “All right, Ken. But if she lets us down, it'll be you, not me, who pays the price. I’ll never let you forget it.”

  “Yes sir, I understand.”

  Stiles took another few seconds to look at the detective before he nodded decisively.

  “Right then. Sit tight and let me make a few phone calls.”

  “I find there is sufficient evidence to commit Mr. Marco di Santo to trial on this matter,” intoned the judge. “He will be remanded in custody until his next appearance on…” He glanced down at his diary. “September 12. Court dismissed.” He banged his gave
l down and rose creakily from his chair, the entire room rising with him.

  Thank Christ that's over with, Jo thought as she slumped back into her seat once the old man had departed the room. Guess I get to do it all again in September, but at least by then Cadie will home and it will all be a bit easier to deal with. She thought about the prospect of her lover seeing more graphic evidence of her own seamy past and fought down the urge to panic. Come on, get a grip. She knows the worst by now, and she hasn’t run from it, so I guess she'll deal with that as well, Jo decided.

  The prosecutor interrupted her thoughts when he turned to her and leaned over the low wooden railing that separated his desk from the public gallery. He reached out with a hand and she shook it, obligingly.

  "Good job, Miss Madison,” he said, smiling. “I trust we can count on you again during the trial?”

  Jo nodded. “I'd rather like to see him put away, Mr. Roberts, so yes, I'll be here if you need me,” she said.

  "We'll be in touch as the time approaches,” he replied, dropping his papers into the battered leather briefcase in his other hand. Without another word he clicked the case shut and exited down the center aisle of the courtroom.

  “And goodbye to you, too,” Jo murmured. She looked around the rapidly emptying room, but Harding was nowhere to be seen. Jo rather hoped he was on a scouting mission for her. Her eye was caught by the sight of two policemen flanking di Santo as they handcuffed him and led him away. He cast an evil glance in her direction as he went and Jo flashed him the tiniest of waves.

  “See you in September, you son of a bitch,” she muttered under her breath.

  Harding walked back in and slid in to the row behind Jo. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the wooden back of the bench on which she was sitting. Jo rested back and looked at him sideways.

  “You missed the decision,” she said quietly.

  "Yeah, well, I assumed they'd come to the right conclusion,” he answered.

  “They did.”