Eva told him about Andrew Fox’s claims regarding the heart’s origin. The doctor became impatient.
“Forget about where it came from,” he said. “You need to focus on getting your strength back now. The heart is already working well, far superior to your old one, but you need to nurture it. Look after it so it can look after you.”
She pushed further. “He mentioned cellular memory. We talked about that months ago. You told me it wasn’t real.”
“And I was right. Your heart is an organ, it’s a pump designed to deliver blood throughout your body. It can’t remember things any more than your liver, your kidneys, or any other part of you, except your brain.” He came closer and tapped her gently on the head. “Here is where your memories live. Your mind makes you who you are. This man is clutching at straws. He’ll try anything; he’ll believe anything that gives him the hope of finding his wife alive.
“You can’t afford to get all worked up over this, Eva. It’s a strong heart, yes, but it’s in a fragile state right now. You have to give it time to recover, give yourself time to recover from major surgery.” He looked like he was about to say more but stopped himself.
Eva was tired, so tired. All her research, all the questions she’d asked Dr Graham in the days and months before the transplant, none of it prepared her for this. There was never any focus on where the heart came from. She wasn’t supposed to know. It was always referred to as ‘the heart’, like an object or some kind of medical device. She knew it had to come from a person, but the way it was spoken of leading up to this made it impersonal. That all changed the moment she first woke from the transplant and felt it beating. It wasn’t what she was used to, wasn’t a part of her, but at the same time it was. A new part, a new beginning, and it was still okay. A part of someone else, someone who had been tragically lost by their own family, was living on inside of her. It had seemed a good thing. But now? What did it all mean now that she knew the heart of a murderer was allowed to live on? What did that make her?
17
Back on the road and headed to Mickey McKinley’s place, Cooper tried to call the mobile number Kate had given them for her brother, to warn him that Andrew was coming. The number kept going straight to voicemail, though. Cooper hoped Mickey was the kind of guy who could handle himself. Andrew Fox was pretty worked up at the moment, it wouldn’t take much for him to explode.
He needn’t have worried. When they pulled up to the address, the two men were sitting on the front lawn, beers in hand. It wasn’t hard to see why — even Fox was smart enough not to mess with a bloke twice his size.
“I suggest we divide and conquer here, Joey. You take the boyfriend; see what you can get out of him. I’ll distract our mate here.”
“Right, boss.” Quinn parked in the driveway and the men eyed the detectives as they got out of the car.
“A word, Mr Fox,” called Cooper. Andrew made a comment the detective didn’t catch, then pushed himself up off the lawn and walked over.
“What are you doing here?” asked Andrew.
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I wanted to know who my wife was seeing behind my back. It’s not unreasonable.”
“No, I suppose not. And now that you know?”
Andrew started to say something but faltered. Cooper almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “Shoe’s on the other foot now, isn’t it Fox?” He shouldn’t have said it, but Cooper had spent years comforting the husbands and families of the murdered women, while people like Andrew Fox had feasted on the scandal of the affairs. These were cold-blooded murders, for Christ’s sake, and all the media could focus on was the fact that the victims had been sleeping around. Cooper was finding it difficult to afford this man the same sympathy the other families received.
“You don’t give a shit about finding my wife, do you? You’ve found your killer, or at least someone else has found him and done your job for you. That’s case closed as far as you’re concerned, isn’t it Cooper?”
“What do you mean someone else has found him and done my job for me?”
“He was murdered. You couldn’t find him in ten years of trying, not until he turned up dead. Ten years on the same case, and you can’t even take credit for catching the bastard. Hell, I heard you were even planning to leave Homicide. You’d already given up. I bet you don’t now, though. I bet you’ll try and take the credit, won’t you? ‘We caught the Adultery Killer’, that’s what you’ll be saying. Not in my story, Cooper. My book will set the record straight.”
“That piece of trash you’re writing on these cases? How’s that going? This is all quite convenient, the disappearance of your wife. Quite the coincidence, really. Amanda going missing should give you just the right amount of empathy with the real victims’ families. Is she really missing, Fox? Or were you struggling to find the right words, so you thought you’d add a personal twist to the story?”
“Are you fucking kidding? Just what are you accusing me of here, Cooper? You think I staged my own wife’s kidnapping?”
“It’s a theory.” Cooper shrugged. He thought he’d better back down before he got himself into real trouble. Then it hit him. “Fraser Grant’s cause of death is not public knowledge. How do you know he was murdered?”
“It’s my job to know.”
“Cut the bullshit, Fox.” Cooper’s radar was up now. “How do you know? Did you kill him?”
“What the fuck? Did I kill him? How do you get there?”
“You told us he was in your house on Friday. Maybe you lied to us about not knowing who he was. You’re a smart arsehole, aren’t you? Maybe you figured it out and you followed him, found out where he lived. It would be your biggest story, wouldn’t it? The journo finds the serial killer?”
“If that was the case, why would I want to kill him? He’d be a bigger story alive. The ultimate interview.”
Shit. The guy had a point.
“It could have gone wrong. You might have killed him in self defence. Or, you conspired with him to get rid of Amanda. Maybe you knew she was sleeping around on you. Maybe you’ve known who he was all along, and he agreed to make Amanda’s disappearance look like all the rest.”
“And what, it all went wrong so I killed him and my wife? Jesus, Cooper, you’ve finally lost it. You can’t be serious.”
With that Andrew got in his car and sped off, obviously not caring whether the detective was finished with him or not. Certainly hit a nerve, thought Cooper. He’d gone too far, but it wasn’t an altogether ridiculous theory. Grant was murdered sometime on Monday morning. They really had no idea how much Andrew Fox knew about Fraser Grant. It was possible he knew a whole lot more than he was telling them.
* * *
Inside the garage filled with motorcycles and what Cooper assumed were motorcycle parts, Quinn was talking to a man dressed in ragged jeans and a white, grease covered t-shirt. He joined them just as Quinn finished writing a page of names in his notebook. Some Cooper recognised as pubs and clubs in the city, others he wasn’t familiar with.
“Did you ask about his mobile phone?”
“No, not yet.”
“Mr McKinley, I’m Detective Sergeant Cooper. I’m sure my partner has filled you in on what’s happened, and why it’s very important you tell us everything you know about Amanda Fox.”
“Sure. It’s all out in the open now anyway. What more do you wanna know?”
“Your mobile phone. We tried to call on our way here, but it went straight to voicemail.”
“Yeah, lost it last weekend. Haven’t got round to replacing it yet. I’m sure it’s here somewhere, but do you think I can find the friggin’ thing? One of the boys probably nicked it for a laugh.”
“Can you tell me exactly when you noticed it missing? It could be important.”
“Why? You think Amanda took it? Why would she do that?”
“No, I don’t think it was Amanda. Please, Mickey, when did you notice it missing?”
Mickey scratche
d his head.
“Sat’day mornin’, as far as I can figure. I needed to call Gordo before we headed off for the ride. I’d ordered a part in for one of the bikes and I wanted to hurry the process along a bit. Gordo isn’t the fastest of movers, you know. Couldn’t find the damn phone anywhere, so I had to wake up Stretch and use his. Might as well make use of that lazy prick somehow, he’s been sleepin’ on me lounge for months. Been usin’ his phone since then, ‘til I can get me own sorted. I figure if people want me bad enough, they can do it the old fashioned way and drag their arses over here.”
“So you couldn’t find your phone on Saturday morning,” Cooper deciphered. “What do you mean, before you headed off for the ride?”
“Last minute thing. We took off for the weekend, headed out west. About twenty of us. Just finished telling your mate here about it. Not havin’ the phone was a bit of a nuisance, I’ll tell ya.”
Cooper looked at Quinn, who indicated his notes regarding Mickey’s whereabouts at the time Amanda disappeared. It would need to be checked, but it seemed the boyfriend was nowhere near Sydney last weekend.
“Had you used this phone in the past to communicate with Amanda?” asked Cooper.
“Yeah, we texted a few times. I’m not into all that backwards and forwards bullshit, but it was handy to arrange stuff without having to worry her old man could listen in. Look, I’m not proud of having an affair with a married woman, mate, and I told her husband that, too. He came here all gung ho, wantin’ to ‘sort me out’, he said, but the wind was knocked out of his sails pretty quickly. They’re not right for each other. It’s that simple. Amanda’s a free spirit, she’s not ready to be tied down to a bloke and a kid and a mortgage and all that crap. It’s not for everyone, the happy families thing, you know. He gets that, deep down. You push someone in a direction they don’t want to go for long enough, and eventually they’re going to push back twice as hard. Anyway, that all you need? I really gotta get back to work. This bike ain’t gonna build itself.”
Cooper looked at Quinn who nodded agreement, then thanked Mickey for his time.
“Yeah, whatever. You find that girl, okay, man?”
Cooper nodded. He liked Mickey, the guy was genuine. Not at all like his sister.
Back in the car, Quinn went through all the information Mickey had given him.
“Like we learnt from Kate, they met at those bigger gatherings, which still take place, but they soon started seeing each other separately as well.”
“Kate said Amanda was supposed to join them last Friday night, but her husband told us she stayed home with a headache. It seems odd that she would miss a night out with her boyfriend.”
“Yeah, but remember Andrew also said he came home early. Maybe she cancelled when he turned up so she didn’t get caught.”
“You’re probably right,” said Cooper.
“Hey, you were pretty hard on him just now. The husband, I mean. You really have it in for that guy, don’t you?”
“I just don’t like the way he goes about things, Joey. You know he’s writing a book about this case? I don’t know what his angle is, but going on the articles he’s written over the years, I can’t see it being too sympathetic to the victims and their families.”
Quinn changed the subject.
“I’ve got the names of the places Amanda and Mickey often went to, so we can start with them. There’s some in the city, some a bit further west. They spread themselves around a bit.”
“Avoiding being seen together too often, I suppose.”
“Yeah, that’s what he said. We going to make a start now?”
“We’ll get something to eat first, and I need to call Liz. Then we’ll hit these places. It’s going to be another long night, mate.”
18
It was early evening by the time Taylor returned from the canteen. Eva was resting, but she wasn’t asleep.
“What did Dr G have to say?” asked Taylor once Eva opened her eyes.
“That I’m doing fine, that the heart is doing its job. Just like I already told you.”
“Are you still mad at me?”
“No,” Eva sighed. “I’m mad at the whole situation. I just want it all to be over. I want to get out of this place.”
Taylor screwed up her face, guilt written all over it.
“What did you do?” asked Eva, but there was no time for a reply. Andrew Fox walked into the room. Eva shook her head and closed her eyes again; she couldn’t believe this was happening. All she wanted to do was sleep.
“I’m just here to apologise,” began Andrew. “I was way out of line earlier. I didn’t mean to drop such a huge bombshell on you like that. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Okay. If I accept your apology, will you leave?”
“Can you please just give me two minutes to explain why I told you where your heart came from? If you still don’t want to help me after that, I promise I’ll leave you alone.”
Eva turned away from him, from his pleading eyes. She couldn’t do this, not now.
“I know why you’re here, at least I think I do. But there’s no proof to support the existence of cellular memory. We did the research before my transplant. The only evidence out there is anecdotal, and I don’t place a lot of faith in that sort of stuff, Mr Fox.”
“That’s what most doctors say, too. They have difficulty believing in something they can’t see or measure with a piece of fancy equipment. Look, I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure I believe it either. But a colleague of mine did a story on cellular memory about a year ago. He interviewed a transplant patient who had some interesting experiences, and he got a lot of information from an expert in the field — a doctor who believes differently to the standard scientific approach. It’s only people’s stories, yes, but there are so many of them. It’s hard to ignore what some of these people have to say. Please, if there is even the slightest chance you can access the memories of that heart, that you can maybe see where he’s got Amanda—”
Andrew’s pleas were interrupted by Brenda’s arrival. Oh shit, thought Eva.
“Hello?” said Brenda, eyes narrowed and focused on Andrew. “I’m Eva’s mother. And you are?”
“Mrs Matthews, I’m Andrew Fox.” He held out a tentative hand, which Brenda ignored, making her way to the washbasin instead.
Eva and Taylor exchanged glances. Eva wasn’t sure she was ready to deal with this, with her family knowing where the heart came from. Too late, though. Once she’d finished washing her hands Brenda started quizzing Andrew, and it wasn’t long before he repeated the details of why he was here.
“Mrs Matthews, the heart Eva received on Monday night was Fraser Grant’s.” There it was, that one simple sentence that changed her life forever. Eva flinched at the mention of that man’s name, and saw her mother do the same.
“That… that monster? The one who killed all those women?” Brenda’s hand covered her mouth, and she lowered herself into a nearby chair. “But, how could that be? How could you possibly know that?”
Andrew explained his journalistic connections, and how he had come to find Eva. As he did, Brenda composed herself a little.
“When I walked in, you were talking about accessing the memories of the heart, about finding someone called Amanda.”
“That’s right. Amanda is my wife. She’s missing, Mrs Matthews. Fraser Grant took her before he died.”
“And that has what to do with my daughter, exactly?”
“As I was saying, I think it might be possible for Eva to know some of the things that he knew, to—”
“Hang on a minute,” Taylor cut him off. “You think that because Eva has this guy’s heart, she’s going to become him? Know what he’s been thinking? Is that what you’re saying?” She was defensive.
“No, not at all. I’m sorry, I’m not explaining myself very well. The evidence suggests that in some heart transplant cases, as well as receiving a heart, the recipient can receive some memories of the donor. It’s based on the
idea that memories are retained in all the cells throughout the body, not just the brain. I think it’s possible that Eva knows something about this man, through cellular memories. It’s possible she may be able to help find my wife.”
Brenda stood. “Mr Fox, I can’t allow you to harass my daughter like this. Eva’s just been through major heart surgery. She doesn’t need to listen to this nonsense. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Andrew looked around Brenda, his eyes catching Eva’s, pleading with her. As much as she felt sorry for him, there was no way she could deal with it all. He was asking her not only to accept that her heart came from a killer, but to try to somehow connect with the heart, to connect with the murdering bastard who owned it before her. It was too much. It was impossible.
“I can’t do it,” she told him. “Look, I’m really sorry about your wife, I can’t imagine what you must be going through. But I can’t help you. Don’t you get that? I can’t help you. There is no such thing as cellular memory. You need to have more faith in the police. They are the ones who have to find her.”
Eva closed her eyes, signalling the end of the conversation. She could feel the sorrow radiating from him, but there was nothing she could do.
* * *
Taylor took the chair on the other side of the bed. For a long time, the three of them sat in silence. Then Brenda spoke.
“I don’t want that man in here again.” She was looking at Taylor.
“Mrs M, I was only trying to help.”
“Well he’s not helping. Telling Eva something like that, it’s not helping. We need to keep him away. Do you understand?”
Taylor nodded. It was funny, thought Eva, her friend was the tough, take no crap from anyone kind of person, but Brenda seemed to be her one weakness. A few harsh words from Eva’s mother, and Taylor folded like a bad poker hand.
The Dark Series Page 18
