by Rob Ashman
‘Have you found a connection between the women?’ Harper took another long draw on his can.
‘Yes we have.’
‘What is it?’
‘Can’t say at this stage, it needs validating.’
‘So whats do yous want to talk to me about?’ Harper slurred, draining the can in his hand and crushing it before letting it drop to the floor. He reached into the bucket and retrieved another, the water dripping from the outside of the can into his rapidly cooling dinner.
‘I came here for two reasons. The first is that I wanted to tell you that it looks like you were right.’ It was clear to Lucas that his attempts to build a conversational rapport with a half-cut Harper were failing badly. ‘Secondly, I wanted to ask you if you had any suspicions about the investigation. Was there anything which didn’t feel right?’
‘Yeah, plenty, but we had no time to tie up all the loose ends. The heat from the media was too strong. They’d have lynched us if it came out that Mechanic might not be dead after all.’ Harper took a huge slug from the newly opened beer and burped loudly. He waved the can at Lucas in a curious circular motion. ‘We had a shitload of suspicions, Lucas, but absolutely no motiv … motiva ... motivation to turn over any more stones than we had to.’
Lucas was thoughtful, not about the answer Harper gave him but about how to phrase his next question without giving too much away. Even a drunk Harper had keen instincts and could put two and two together and get somewhere close to four.
‘Did you have any suspicions about any of the people working on the investigation?’
Harper looked at Lucas and screwed his face up. ‘Shushpicions … about our people? No nothing. What do you mean?’ The words merged together as the heavy alcohol session closed Harper’s brain down.
Lucas was regretting his question as soon as it left his lips. He was ill prepared to have an obtuse conversation with Harper in this state. He tried again. ‘What I mean is, did you ever question any of the decisions or motives of the people in your team?’
‘Shome of them barked up the wrong tree from time to time, but then we all did. Mechanic was a devus … a devinus … a devious bastard. We often spent time on dead ends.’
‘Sorry to bother you, I’ll leave you to your dinner.’ Lucas was keen to hit the eject button on this visit. He wasn’t going to get what he wanted without giving too much away, and Harper was fading fast. The best tack now was to bow out and come back another time. ‘I wanted to call by and say you were right and to thank you for taking the time to see me the other night.’ Lucas was trying to cover his tracks after his clumsy question.
‘But, I don’t get it. What do you mean sushpinions? Like what?’ Harper was grappling with his inability to string a short sentence together. ‘What do yous mean?’
Lucas ignored him and made his way to the door. Harper made a weak effort to get up to see his guest out but slumped back into the chair. ‘Shee yous again Lieuten .... Lieutenen …’ he called as Lucas closed the door behind him.
Lucas made his way back home to another evening of chili dogs and beer. After seeing Harper, he’d probably make that chili dogs and Coke.
Harper slumped in the chair, his eyes closing in a drunken stupor. His dinner lay half eaten in front of him while his right arm was draped across the side of the chair, still clutching his can. A pool of spilled beer soaked into the pile, soon to be invisible amongst the other stains on the carpet. The gravity of what Lucas had told him seemed to have been lost on Harper. However, as he slept, his brain would gradually unravel his words. His dreams would put the facts in order and churn them over and over in endless possibilities. Possibilities which, deep inside, Harper had always known were there.
When he woke in the morning, the full impact of his conversation with Lucas would hit him like a freight train.
21
Lucas attended the morning briefing. There was a different feel to the investigation and the room buzzed with energy. Bassano gave the team their orders for the day. One group would visit the country clubs while Bassano and another team would interview the women who’d survived Mechanic’s attacks. The enquiries needed to be low key because no one outside the investigation knew of Mechanic’s reappearance. Lucas was clear that was how it had to stay, although an annoying voice inside his head kept reminding him – No one else knows, that is, except Harper.
Lucas was annoyed about his conversation with Harper the previous evening. He should have trusted his instincts and left well alone. Instead he’d persevered and ended up giving away far more information than originally intended. Frustratingly he’d got nothing in return. While his questions had been vanilla enough at first glance, a seasoned cop like Harper would now be putting the pieces together, albeit with a thumping hangover. Lucas was mad with himself but was trying not to let his frustration show.
He left the briefing and made his way back to his office. He opened the door and there was Jo Sells sitting in the same seat which she’d abruptly vacated twenty-four hours earlier. In front of her was the obligatory cup of steaming coffee along with an expertly crafted, bright white sugar twist.
‘Good morning, Lucas,’ she said in a quiet voice.
‘Well, good morning Doctor, how are you today?’ Lucas was well aware that his tone was patronizing. Jo allowed it to go unchallenged, conceding that she probably deserved it.
‘Much better, thanks,’ she replied. ‘Look, about yesterday—’
‘What about it?’ Lucas spoke abruptly. He wasn’t going to let her off lightly.
She held her hands up. ‘I apologize for my behaviour. It was out of order and unacceptable.’
‘Yes it was, and hiding out at the McKee house didn’t help matters.’
‘I got angry and I shouldn’t have. When you challenged the validity of the profile, all I could hear was you challenging the validity of Victor and that hit a nerve. When he was killed I not only lost a talented mentor but also a dear friend and it still hurts. He was with me all through my research and was inspirational for me at Quantico. I’m sorry. I saw red and had to get out.’
Lucas joined her at the table. ‘Losing people goes with the territory in this job. Sometimes we have to separate our personal feelings from our professional responsibilities. Yesterday you let them get the better of you.’
She nodded. ‘You can put in a request to have me removed from the case and I won’t challenge it.’
‘Is that what you want?’
‘No. Far from it. I want to catch this bastard for real this time and stop him once and for all. I can help, I know I can. It won’t happen again, I promise.’
‘Have you spoken to Bassano or any of the team this morning?’ Lucas asked.
‘No, I came to see you first. If you wanted me off the case, I figured there was no point in making any further grovelling apologies. So, no, I’ve seen no one.’
‘Then I suggest you get down to the briefing room, take Bassano to one side and start building bridges. He’ll brief you on the tasks for the day.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’ She got up to leave the office.
‘Oh, and by the way, we found something which connects the women – country clubs. Bassano will fill you in.’
Jo Sells looked stunned.
On the other side of the city it was a tale of two sofas.
Kaitlin was at home sitting by the telephone, her mind in turmoil. She wasn’t due to have another counselling call until 8.00pm the next day but her anxiety levels were through the roof. She needed to offload. The strain was driving her crazy.
She had tossed and turned all night only managing a couple of hours of fitful sleep which only served to cloud her judgement further. She was dog tired and irritable. Should she call or not? She was so desperate that she was thinking of breaking her own golden rule of always phoning from a call box. This morning she was stranded. Her car was at the garage for a service while the location of the pay phone was several miles away in a rundown roadside café. Her rationale for choo
sing this place was sound. She wouldn’t meet anyone she knew there since it was off the beaten track and anyway who would go for a coffee in such a dump? If she did meet someone, she could say there was something wrong with the car and she was calling home. She’d spent a long time choosing a safe location but was now prepared to blow it with one reckless act.
Her hand hovered over the receiver for a second then picked it up. She quickly banged it back onto its cradle and put her hand to her mouth. Mechanic had done a good job on Kaitlin. She was a wreck.
A mile and half away, Sophie Barrock sat on her sofa staring into space. What the hell should I do? she asked herself over and over again. With the kids dropped off at school and her husband working God knows where, this was her quality time to think. Only it wasn’t filled with quality thinking.
Should I leave? She churned it around in her head. She could pack a bag and go to her friend Jane’s place. But who was she kidding? She didn’t know Jane well enough to turn up on her doorstep with an overnight bag. I’ve left my husband and two kids and thought I could stay here for a while. That would be absurd. She was getting desperate.
Alternatively she could confront her husband with a list of ultimatums and force the issue that way. But that course of action was fraught with uncertainty. What if he just said, ‘Okay, I think we should separate.’ That would be awful. Not because of the separation, but this needed to be on her terms or not at all. This had to be done in the way they’d discussed it in the counselling sessions. She had to be seen to be in control and she had no intention of jeopardising what she had at the club. For Sophie, it was crucial that she should be seen to be driving whatever changes were going to take place. What to do?
Back on Kaitlin’s sofa, the situation was getting worse. Mechanic had told her focus on her issues in preparation for their next chat and doing so had made her even more agitated. She was now thinking all sorts of outlandish thoughts which had never entered her head before. She was falling apart.
She picked up the phone again, took a crumpled piece of paper from her bag and punched in the numbers. It rang five times then the answer phone kicked in. Kaitlin cursed and banged the handset down. The counsellor was out. She couldn’t wait until tomorrow, she was going out of her mind. She picked up the phone again and called the garage to see when her car was coming back.
Sophie sat staring into space. The ultimatum option sounded good, she could make it work if she stayed strong. This thought was interrupted by a loud knock at the front door. Sophie dragged herself back to reality, unlocked it and opened it wide. The Florida morning sunshine flooded the hall and Mechanic stood in the doorway smiling.
22
For most of the day, the police station was deserted and strangely quiet as Lucas sat in his office alone. Everyone was out working on the tasks they’d been given at the morning briefing. Despite the peaceful atmosphere, Lucas had experienced a troubled day. He couldn’t shake off his misgivings about the previous night’s conversation with Harper. He had overreached himself, divulging sensitive information through his clumsy line of questioning. Anyone with an ounce of common sense would have been able to join the dots. Lucas hoped that Harper’s drunken state would stop him making the connections.
He also spent time agonizing over the two pieces of paper which contained his thoughts and doodles from the sleepless night. Placing the sheets side by side on his desk, he racked his brains, trying to make sense of the convoluted deductions set out in front of him. But whichever way he twisted the chain of events leading up to Galbraith’s death he reached the same conclusion – there was a leak. Mechanic had known the direction of the investigation was about to shift and killed Galbraith to prevent it. The more times he went through it, the more times he reached the same uncomfortable conclusion.
He was about to embark on another painful game of ‘What ifs?’ when Bassano and Jo Sells walked in, casually chatting about the events of the day. Jo must have made her grovelling apologies.
‘What have you got?’ Lucas was pleased to have company at last and a break from the turmoil inside his head.
‘We uncovered something interesting,’ Bassano said as he flashed one of his winning smiles Jo’s way, which she ignored. ‘We’re having difficulties with a number of the country clubs. They aren’t being cooperative in granting us access to their member information, even though some of it is twelve years old–’
‘You said you had something interesting,’ Lucas interrupted.
‘We do,’ Bassano continued. ‘We interviewed Julie Tate. She’s the wife and mother of victims four and five. She was wary at first, but opened up when we told her we were pursuing an alternative line of enquiry about the killings. It appears that, following the murders, she’s had a dreadful time making any kind of adjustment. She’s had several stumbling attempts to pick herself up which have spectacularly failed. She lives on her own and swings between being a virtual recluse and other times when she’s a social junkie.’
‘What do you mean “social junkie”?’ Lucas asked.
Jo stepped in, ‘She shuts herself away for long periods and sinks into a morbid depression. Then she breaks out with episodes of completely the opposite behaviour. She goes to clubs, parties, rekindles old friendships and drinks heavily. She flips between one and the other.’
‘Is this a coping mechanism? Does it help manage the grief?’ Lucas asked.
‘Well, that’s the strange part,’ said Bassano. ‘It’s not driven by grief, more by guilt.’
‘But that’s understandable, right? I mean the woman was left alive when her family were murdered. That’s bound to trigger a massive guilt complex.’
‘Yes, that’s true, but it’s not that. At the time of the killings all was not well in the domestic world of Julie Tate. Her guilt is driven by the fact that she was planning to leave her husband and kids. Her marriage was on the rocks and she hated her family life. She was about to walk out. The way she behaves now is a reaction to the guilt, it’s like she’s in self-destruct mode.’
‘That sounds very sad, but I still don’t understand why you think it’s interesting?’ Lucas left the question hanging.
‘Bear with me on this, boss.’ Bassano was determined to prove his day had been fruitful. ‘None of this came out in the previous investigation, this is new. On the surface she was playing happy families with her husband and kids but underneath there were major problems. Tate was one unhappy woman.’
‘Okay, I get it. But most people have skeletons in cupboards. We of all people know that,’ said Lucas.
‘I agree. But what is unusual is that Lillian Lang, the woman from the first set of killings, was hiding exactly the same skeleton.’
‘What?’ Now Lucas was interested.
‘I had a hunch that this could be important. So while Jo continued to question Julie Tate, I contacted the officers who were interviewing Lang. I asked them to probe along the same line of questioning. Sure enough, she was in a similar predicament with her marriage and family life as Julie Tate. And, just like Tate, her situation was never identified during the initial investigation.’
‘You’re quiet, Jo. What do you think?’ Lucas was keen to bring her back into the fold.
She looked up and shook her head. ‘It’s too much of a coincidence for both women to be going through the same private meltdown in their relationships. And in both cases it was a meltdown that was so well hidden it wasn’t apparent to anyone at the time.’
‘But the investigation didn’t focus on the women, so it wouldn’t have come out,’ Lucas countered.
‘No, I don’t mean apparent to us, I mean to others who knew them. Harper and his team did a thorough job interviewing close friends who knew the murdered families well. They got a consistent picture of a stable family life with no sign of any such difficulties. In both cases, it was wall-to-wall happy families. There was nothing to indicate that the women were about to leave.’
‘Why would they talk about it now but not at the time
?’ asked Lucas
‘Two reasons, I guess,’ Jo continued. ‘They have no reason to keep it quiet now. Their families are gone so there is nothing to be gained by hiding the fact that all was not rosy in the garden.’
‘And the second?’
‘I think it’s as simple as no one asked them. At the time, these women were trying to come to terms with the ritual killing of their families. It probably didn’t feel appropriate to ask if their marriage and home life had been a happy one.’
Lucas nodded in agreement. ‘So in a way, this is another brutal twist of the knife, well after the actual murders took place.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. In the case of Julie Tate, it took a long time for the crushing guilt to kick in. It may have only come to the forefront once she came to terms with the original grief. The fact that she was considering leaving them, and now they’re gone, has destroyed her.’
Lucas scratched his head. ‘What was it Julie Tate said to Harper? “The agony continues for those that remain. I wish I were dead.”’
‘Mechanic is a mother hater, right?’ Bassano fixed the other two with a piercing stare. ‘Could it be that Mechanic manipulated the situation in the Tate and Lang households to make the tragic loss of their families even worse for these women? It would add a whole new level of suffering and pain for the women left behind.’
‘That’s operating at a highly complex level,’ Jo suggested. ‘It would mean Mechanic was somehow involved with each of the women, intending to destabilize their marriages and family life.’ She let out a long sigh. ‘That’s a massive stretch of the imagination.’
‘It is,’ Bassano agreed. ‘But that doesn’t negate the fact that we have two women whose families were murdered by Mechanic, and both of them shared a secret. They were both about to walk out. It’s a long shot for sure but that’s what we have.’
