Jackie hesitated at the door to the garage. She hadn't been in here since that day, and the image of Lachlan hanging there was still so raw in her mind. Could she really do this? But her curiosity as to Charlie's purpose here finally got the better of her, and she pushed the door open. What she saw once she was inside was not what she was expecting.
"Charlie?"
He turned to face her, seeming to have difficulty tearing his eyes away from the object on the shelf in front of him. Of all the things in the garage, of all the horrors that came flooding back once she was inside this horrible space, the detective was focused on a child's toy.
"Does this belong to any of you?" he asked.
She moved hesitantly closer. "I don't know. Why? Is it important?"
"It might be. Is it Emma's?"
Jackie peered at the object, a mechanical toy butterfly. "I don't recognise it," she said. "Shall I ask her?"
"Yes, please." Jackie went to pick up the toy, but Charlie stopped her. "Don't touch it."
She pulled her hand away, running it across her face instead. "You're scaring me, Charlie."
"There's no reason to be scared. I'm just following something up, that's all. Can you bring Emma out here?"
Jackie nodded and turned back toward the house. What did a toy butterfly have to do with anything?
Emma was glad to get away from the boys. "They won't even let me in the kitchen, Mum. How am I supposed to put away the dishes if they won't let me in?"
"Yes, I can see how that would be a problem. But let's forget about the boys and the dishes for now, hey? I've got a special job for you."
The little girl was excited by the prospect of a special job, and once she saw the detective in the garage and realised she'd be helping the grownups she visibly puffed out with pride.
"Hi Emma, I'm Charlie. I'm a friend of your mum's."
"Hi." She hid behind Jackie's leg.
"Charlie has something important to ask you." Jackie gently propelled her daughter forward.
Emma pursed her lips. "What is it?"
Charlie pointed to the mechanical butterfly. "Have you ever seen this toy before?"
She looked it over. "I think Evie had one of those. I can't see it all the way up there. Can you pass it down?"
"Um, not really. We can't touch it at the moment, you see," said Charlie. He looked around, his eyes settling on a stool. "Here you go," he said, as he placed the stool next to the shelf. "Stand up on there and you'll be able to see better."
The feeling came over Jackie too quickly. She felt herself falling, but was unable to stop. She heard rather than felt her head hit the concrete, the loud crunching sound it made was sickening. Charlie was by her side instantly.
"Get her down," Jackie managed to say.
"Are you all right?"
"Just get her down." She rolled over onto her back and watched as Charlie lifted her daughter off the stool. He sent her inside to get a glass of water, before helping Jackie into a sitting position.
"What happened?" he asked.
Jackie shook her head and pointed to the stool. "Lachlan," was all she could manage, but it was enough. The detective realised straight away what he'd done.
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I didn't think…"
"It's okay." Jackie straightened herself up. "I haven't been in here since that day. I guess it was just too much, seeing her standing up on that thing. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologise. I'm the insensitive jerk here. Do you want me to help you inside?"
Jackie glanced up at the toy, still on the shelf. "What is it about that thing?" she asked, ignoring his offer of help. He didn't respond. "Charlie? What aren't you telling me?"
He gave up offering his hand and instead sat beside her. "We found an identical one in Jamie Brennan's garage, as well as the latest case, Michelle Medler."
"I heard about that girl on the news. She went to the same school as Jamie, didn't she?"
"That's right."
Jackie stared straight ahead, the implications of what he'd just said slowly hitting her. She was glad she was still sitting down. "So she didn't kill herself either?"
"No, we don't believe so."
"And that thing, that toy, has something to do with it?"
"Yes. Jackie, this is an ongoing investigation. I can't reveal too much, you understand. But as a mother, you deserve to know. I think you were right. We believe Lachlan, Jamie, and Michelle were all murdered."
The words hit her hard. Jackie wanted to lie down again, to rest her face against the cold, hard concrete. She settled for putting her head between her legs. "I… I was right?" she stammered.
"You were right." Charlie took her hand in his. "I know this must be hard to hear."
You got that right. Ever since they'd found Lachlan hanging here, in this room, from that beam, she knew in her heart he hadn't done it to himself. She'd pushed and pushed, she'd believed in her son, and she'd finally managed to get someone to notice. But now, faced with the incomprehensible truth that someone was killing kids, was she any better off?
"I think we'd better get you inside," said Charlie, as Emma returned very carefully carrying a glass of water. She handed it to her mother, who took a sip before passing it to Charlie. Jackie steadied herself on the shelving unit and pulled herself to her feet, coming face to face with the offending toy.
"Can I keep it, Mum?" asked Emma, who was also staring at the butterfly.
"No, sweetheart. Charlie needs to take that to the police station."
"Why?"
Jackie took her daughter by the hand and led her into the house, leaving the detective to remove the proof that her son had been murdered. "Because I said so." They walked into the kitchen, head first into a full-on screaming match between her son and his friend.
"I'm not covering for you, arsehole," Ethan yelled. He was red in the face and was waving a dripping wet knife in front of Oscar's face.
"I never asked you to. I can take care of—" Oscar broke off when he saw Jackie enter the room.
"Ethan! Put that knife down right now!" she yelled. Ethan looked up and glared at his mother, before glancing behind her. Charlie had followed her in.
"What's going on in here?" he asked, his voice a lot steadier than Jackie's had been.
Ethan grumbled his favourite word: "Nothing." He threw the knife into the sink full of dishwater and stormed off to his bedroom, leaving Oscar standing in the kitchen, tea towel dripping all over the floor.
"Give me that," said Jackie, taking the towel and balling it up on the bench. "Answer the detective, please. What's going on?"
"Detective?" asked Oscar. "I thought you were just a friend." The boy's face turned from angry pink to a much more sinister looking pale.
"I'm both, not that it matters to you. What's your name, son?"
"Oscar."
"Oscar what?"
"Oscar White."
Charlie moved the evidence bag containing the butterfly toy from his right hand to his left. Oscar's eye's darted between it and the detective's face.
"Okay, Oscar White. Are you going to tell me what that little stoush was all about?"
"N-Nothing, sir. We were just having an argument. It was no big deal."
"It looked like a pretty big deal to me," said Jackie. "My son was holding a knife."
"He was just washing that up when I said something I shouldn't have, that's all. He wasn't going to do anything, Mrs Rose. It was just my dumb timing." Oscar's gaze kept going back to the bag in Charlie's hand, and Jackie didn't think the boy could get any paler, but he did. "I think I should go home now," he said.
Jackie sighed. What the hell was going on with these boys? "Give me a minute and I'll drive you home."
"That's okay, Mrs Rose. I can walk. It isn't very far. Thanks again for dinner." Before she could protest at the late hour and express concerns for his safety, Oscar was out the door.
"Sorry about that," she said, turning back to face Charlie.
"Forget about it.
Have you known that kid long?"
"He started at Ethan's school six months ago. Why?"
"No reason, just curious." He picked up the car keys he'd left on the kitchen bench. "I'd better get this back to the station," he said, indicating the evidence bag. "We're going to try and keep this out of the press for as long as we can, so it would be good if you don't mention it to anybody."
"You mean the toy?"
"Yes. Well, all of it, really. We don't want to create a panic, at least not until we know more about what we're dealing with. You understand." His eyes took in the bruises that must now be forming on her head and face. "Are you sure you're okay? I could ask Liz to call in on her way home and check you out, if you like."
"No, I'm fine." Jackie showed him out then sat on the lounge to try and make sense of what just happened. She didn't get far, her face was throbbing where she'd hit the concrete. She got an icepack from the freezer, wrapped it in a clean tea towel, and placed it gingerly on the left side of her face. There was going to be a good bruise there tomorrow, but as she went back over the last half an hour in her head, she realised that was the least of her problems. The police now had firm evidence her son had been murdered, along with at least two other kids. What the hell was going on?
17
"You came in late last night," said Liz, rolling over to give Cooper a kiss as the early morning sun peeked through the blinds.
"I went to see, Jackie," Cooper replied. "Then I had to take some evidence in for processing, so I stayed to catch up on the paperwork. It's going to be another long one today, I'm afraid." He threw back the covers and sat up, rubbing his face, before looking over at his wife. "How come you're so beautiful in the mornings?" he said, smiling and reaching an arm around for a cuddle.
"Smooth, Coop." Liz pushed him off and got out of bed. "If you can't get here at a decent hour of the evening, you've got no chance in the morning, mate."
Cooper smiled, then he remembered her meeting. "Hey, how did it go last night?"
"Just like you said. They've got no proof, so they couldn't do anything to me. We spent the whole time talking about tightening procedures so it doesn't happen again."
"Well, that's good, then."
"No it's not. I know they still think it was me, Coop. I could feel it in their looks, their little remarks. And I've got no way of proving it wasn't."
She closed the bathroom door behind her, and moments later Cooper heard the shower running. He was about to follow her in, try and find some words of comfort for her, but Michael came running into the room.
"Good morning, Daddy!"
"Hello there, little mate. Did you sleep well?"
"Uh huh. Why didn't you come home last night?"
Cooper took his child in his arms and gave him a big squeeze. "I did, buddy. I was just late, that's all. You were asleep when I got home. But I still came and kissed you goodnight. Don't you remember?"
Michael shook his head.
"Well in that case you did sleep well, didn't you? Listen, I need to talk to Mummy for a few minutes, do you want to go and play in your room until breakfast is ready?"
"Sure, Dad. Should I wake Patrick up?"
It was Cooper's turn to shake his head. "No, not yet. You just play quietly in your room, and I'll call you for breakfast, okay?"
"Okay." Michael gave his dad another squeeze and jumped down from the bed, humming to himself as he walked away.
Cooper smiled and turned his attention back to the bathroom door. The shower was still going, so he chanced his luck.
"What did you have to see Jackie about?" asked Liz when he poked his head around the shower curtain.
"Do we have to talk about that right now?" he asked, sliding his boxers off and climbing in with her. "I thought I might try and cheer you up."
She gave him the once over. "Are the kids awake?"
"Michael is. I sent him to play in his room." He leaned in and ran his fingertips down the curve of her hips.
"Then we can't talk about Jackie out there, can we?" she kissed him on the lips, and at the same time manoeuvred them around so she could get out of the shower. She handed him the soap before reaching for her towel.
"Aw, babe."
Liz turned back and raised her eyebrows at him, giving him the one-sided grin she knew turned him on. "Come home at a reasonable hour tonight and you never know your luck." She wrapped herself in the towel. "Now, come on, spill. What were you doing at Jackie's place?"
Cooper soaped his body and considered how much he could tell her, all thoughts of getting lucky now pushed to the back of his mind. He wanted to tell her everything, how he thought this case was going to be huge once word got out that they were dealing with a serial killer. That's what was happening. They had evidence linking three separate murders. He'd do his best to keep it under wraps for as long as possible, but really it was only a matter of time before the press got hold of it.
"We found some evidence that led us to believe Jackie was right about Lachlan," he finally said.
Liz pulled back the shower curtain and looked at him. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah. Do you mind? I'm getting a cold breeze."
She closed the curtain again. "What kind of evidence?"
"I can't talk about that. But it's enough for me to be confident Lachlan was murdered. And he's not the only victim."
"Coop… What the hell?"
"Yeah, I know." He turned off the shower and reached for his towel, opening the curtain himself this time. "We've got a serial killer, Liz. That's why I was late last night, and I probably will be for a while yet. Someone's killing kids."
* * *
It was past eight by the time Cooper got into the office, and his team was assembled waiting for him. He quickly filled them in on what he'd found in the Rose's garage last night, confirming that in his mind at least they were looking for a serial killer. Quinn put a photograph of one of the toys up on the whiteboard.
"What does it mean, boss?"
"The toy butterfly? I've got no idea. A symbol of some kind?"
"A symbol of what?" asked Meg Baxter.
"You tell me," replied Cooper. "Actually, we need Max in on this. Can someone get him on the phone?"
Quinn pulled a phone into the middle of their gathering and dialled. Max answered almost immediately.
"You're on speaker, Doc. We've got myself and Joe, Meg Baxter, Flynn Anderson, and Zach Ryan." Cooper looked at Zach. "Where's Nora?"
"She's working on Jamie Brennan's computer."
"Fair enough. You want to help us work a few things through, Max?"
"Of course. What have you got?"
Cooper filled Max in on the toy butterfly, and their brief discussion so far. "Let's throw some ideas around," he said, before carefully flipping the whiteboard around to the blank canvas of the other side. He wrote the word 'symbol' at the top, followed by a question mark. "What else?"
"Maybe it's some kind of tribute to the victims," suggested Flynn.
"A child's toy as a tribute for teenagers?" asked Quinn.
Cooper wrote 'tribute' on the board. "No idea's a dumb idea, Joe. What about you. Anything pop into your head?"
Quinn looked blank. "Perhaps the killer doesn't have children of his own, so he doesn't understand what's an age-appropriate toy for a teenager?" He shrugged as he saw the incredulous looks he got from the others. "What? You said no idea's a dumb idea."
"Quite right," said Max, and Cooper wrote 'killer has no kids' on the board.
"What about you, Max? What do you think?"
"I tend to agree with the idea of it being a symbol of some sort. But I think we need to take a closer look at the victims in order to determine why they were killed. What did these teenagers do to provoke the killer, to make him or her choose them? Find the motive for these killings and we'll find the killer."
Max is right, thought Cooper. We have no idea about motive. Why would someone want these kids dead? And why make it look like suicide?
"Meg
and Flynn, what did you find out from the peers you interviewed?" he asked.
"We went to Haberfield High yesterday, spent a good deal of time there. The principal was very cooperative," said Meg. "We talked to quite a few of Jamie Brennan and Michelle Medler's friends and classmates. Got a pretty good picture of who they were before they died."
"And?"
"They were both bullies, to put it bluntly," said Flynn.
"Michelle Medler was Jensen Morris's cousin," Meg explained. "You remember him? He got ten years for the rape of Sia Longhurst. His buddies got almost as long. Gang rape at a party. Bloody cowards."
Cooper remembered the case; it had been all over the news for months. "So Michelle was his cousin. How does that make her a bully?"
"According to a couple of girls in her biology class, Michelle got teased pretty relentlessly about Jensen and what he'd done. So instead of taking it, she fought back. She went from being one of the good kids, good grades, no trouble, to high on the vice-principal's radar in a matter of months. Her particular favourite brand of bullying was the cyber variety."
Zach Ryan was nodding. "That tallies with what we found, Coop. She had a very active Twitter account, and a lot of it was trolling."
"Trolling?"
"Being a bitch to other people, basically. Some people hide behind their online identities, thinking that because others don't know who they are in real life, they can get away with saying stuff they wouldn't normally say to a person's face. It's rife, Coop."
"Ok, so Michelle was a bully. What about Jamie?"
"He was popular," said Meg. "Star of the school football team, apparently, and he was pretty proud of it. Let everyone know how good he was every chance he got."
"Does that make him a bully?" asked Quinn.
"He was more of a practical joker," answered Flynn. "Him and his buddies played pranks on other kids. Problem was, they usually chose the weaker kids to play their jokes on. It was definitely seen as bullying by those he targeted."
"And online?"
Zach referred to his laptop. "He was more into gaming than social media. He was mostly into role playing games, Factions of War was his favourite. But he did have a Twitter account, and he wasn't above picking on others there. In contrast to Michelle, though, he usually reserved his bullying for people he knew in real life. There was this one kid at his school, his last target, who copped quite a spray from Jamie on Twitter. The kid deleted his account after it."
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