by N. R. Walker
“Someone, somewhere, at some point in the chain of command, stole some for themselves. To use, to sell, I don’t know. That newspaper article said there were three vials taken. Let’s see how many vials were recorded.”
“You think a cop took it?”
“Yeah. Who else could have access to it? Maybe they sold it on the black market or to a foreign government, or I don’t know, maybe they thought it’d be funny.” August held up three fingers. “The paper said three vials. If there are still three vials in storage, we’ll have them tested to see if they weren’t swapped out or something. It’s just a little too coincidental that the same chemical agent, used in only a handful of countries, turns up here in Sydney, then these murders start to happen . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t like coincidences. So no, I didn’t tell Reinhart about it because I don’t know who to trust.”
“How can you trust the newspaper?” Jake asked. “Maybe the journo got it wrong. Maybe the photo was of a different drug. We have no way of knowing what exactly was in those three vials in that photograph.”
August frowned at that. “True. But it’s worth checking out. We need to cross every box. And I’m sure as hell not about to start talking shit about other cops, whether they’re still cops or not, in a house full of cops. They already hate me enough.”
“They don’t hate you,” Jake said.
August stared at him like he’d sprouted a second head. “Did you not see them walking past my office to get a look at me actually talking to another human being?”
Jake chuckled. “I thought they were checking me out.”
“Yeah well, probably that too. But mostly me. You, because you’re a new face, and you’re young and hot. And me, because I’m the cop who went crazy, remember?”
“Young and hot?”
August grimaced. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”
Jake laughed. “You’re not crazy, and they don’t hate you. They just don’t know you.”
August’s lips twisted and he scowled at the road. Jacob and he both knew none of his colleagues knew August because he never wanted them to.
Jake considered that a win. “You’re cute when you pout.”
August shot him a look, and his cheeks grew pink.
Jake grinned at him. “That was for the young-and-hot comment.”
He scowled. “Shut up.”
Jake was still smiling. “So, I’m pretty sure your boss no longer likes me.”
August snorted out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t either. You basically told him I was right and everyone else was an arsehole for not believing me.”
Jake grinned. “It’s not exactly a lie.”
August chewed on the inside of his lip for a bit. “I am sorry for not telling you about Christopher. I was going to, I was. But I . . . didn’t want to lose what we had. And that sounds stupid, like some teenage infatuation.” He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “I’ve spent a long time by myself, which you can probably tell, because I suck at social situations. And I’ve kinda liked being partnered with you for this. Which also sounds like some teenage infatuation, and that’s not what I mean.”
“Of course not,” Jake said. “Because you’re hardly a teenager. I mean, I’m young and hot, but you . . .”
He groaned. “Can you never mention that ever again, thanks. That’d be great.”
Jake smiled at him but then he nodded. “But seriously, I get it, August. You don’t need to explain. You didn’t want someone else to come along and treat Christopher’s case any different to anyone else’s. You know what?”
“What?”
“You telling me probably would have been nice, from a friend standpoint, but by not telling me, you let me look at the facts as they are. I read his case like I read the others, without any special consideration, without looking for cracks or second guessing anything. So in a lot of ways, maybe you did the right thing.”
August made a face; a dozen different emotions flickered but he settled on a frown. “I uh, I just want to find whoever did this.”
“I know you do.”
“They were gonna take me off the case,” August admitted. “After Christopher . . . But I think Reinhart decided I’d be less of a pain in his arse if I was directly involved. And I would have been. I’d have raised unholy hell if they’d taken these cases from me. Yes, it’s personal, but I’m not biased in this. I don’t favour his case. I give them all the respect they deserve.”
“Maybe Reinhart knew you would,” Jacob offered. August nodded and drove in silence for a while. “And thank you.”
“What for?”
“For showing me the side of you that you don’t show anyone else.”
August shot Jake a look, then scowled at the road. “What side?”
“The human side. The side with a sense of humour and kindness and a determination to see that wrongs get righted.” Jacob smiled at him. “The good side. Not the guy who keeps his head down and doesn’t want to speak to people.”
August scowled some more, then grumbled and mumbled, proving Jake’s point exactly and making him chuckle.
“Shut up,” he grumbled again as he drove into what looked like the car park of an industrial lot filled with warehouses. Except there was another gate further along with security and fencing with barbed wire and an underground parking garage.
“Jesus, it’s like the movies.”
August chuckled. “You watch the wrong kind of movies.”
“I do not. I can watch The Bourne Supremacy and know every character in the Marvel Universe. I’m versatile like that.”
August laughed. “That’s good to know,” he said, grinning, as he stopped at the security gates, wound down his window, and showed the officer his badge.
Jake had to think about what he said . . . I can watch Bourne and Marvel because I’m versatile.
I’m versatile.
The officer waved them through and August drove the car down to the lower level. “That’s not what I meant!” Jacob said, sure his face was on fire.
He pulled into a parking space. “So it’s not true?”
“I’m not saying it’s not. I’m not denying or confirming it is either.”
August laughed, that warm, throaty sound. “I’m just kidding! It’s none of my business and probably a completely inappropriate joke for the workplace.” He made a face. “I told you, I’m not used to the whole professional interaction thing. Sorry. I’m a bit rusty with the whole personal interaction thing too, if you haven’t already guessed. God, I suck at this.”
“But you do suck?”
August whipped his head around to gawp at him, his cheeks instantly red, and Jake burst out laughing. “Fair’s fair. One completely inappropriate workplace joke for another. Now we’re even.” He was still grinning. “And I take it that was a yes.”
August glowered at him. “Shut up.”
“It’s so true.”
August opened his door and got out. “I’m not denying or confirming.”
Jake got out of the car, fixed his coat, and cleared his throat. “It’s okay. I get it. It’s a respectable talent.”
August groaned and opened the boot of his car. “This can be another one of those things we never talk about again. Add it to the list.”
“There’s a list?”
“There’s beginning to be.” He opened his satchel and pulled out the papers he’d taken from the printer, made sure they were all in order, and nodded toward the building entrance. “Okay, let’s do this.”
“Wait, what’s the plan?”
“What plan?”
“Exactly.”
“There is no plan,” August replied. “We’re here just to drop off special request forms, and”—he gestured to the papers in his hand—“to see what we can find out about this case evidence.”
A case they didn’t have approval for. Awesome. To say Jake was nervous was an understatement. But he put his game face on and went inside.
“
Can I help you?” the young guy behind the counter asked. It might have looked like an industrial warehouse above ground, but down a level or two and it was pretty high-tech. It wasn’t like a sci-fi space clinic, but it was a little X-Files. He could see three wall-mounted cameras and was confident there were others he couldn’t see.
“Detective August Shaw,” August said, holding up his badge. “And this is Senior Constable Jacob Porter. We’re delivering these retesting request forms.”
“You could have just emailed them,” the clerk said warily.
“Yeah, but I wanted to see them get here with my own two eyes,” August said with a smile. “I’m old-school like that.”
“Oh, okay,” he replied, still wary but at least he was smiling now. “I can get these filed for you right now, if you like?”
“That’d be great, thanks,” August said. He wore an easy, casual smile that Jake knew was fake. He would have rolled his eyes if the young guy wasn’t watching. “There’s been some upgrades since I was here last time. Nice to know they’ve caught up to the twenty-first century.”
The young guy laughed as he started to type something in. “Yeah. I’ve heard how it used to be. They tell me stories of mountains of archive boxes, corroded canisters from God knows what, and dust. Now it’s all digital, humidity controlled, and ventilated. If a fly blinks in there, the alarms go off.”
August laughed, a fake laugh that Jake smiled at. “I could imagine. I’m from those old days when everything was handwritten in triplicate. Before Google, even.”
Jake knew damn well August didn’t have to fill in paperwork in triplicate. He wasn’t that old. But the guy, oblivious and clueless, laughed. “Before Uber Eats!”
“Yeah, imagine that,” August replied. Jake was pretty sure August had no clue what Uber Eats even was. “I can’t even imagine the job of digitalising all the files in this place. Must’ve taken years.”
“Wasn’t pretty, apparently,” the guy said, still typing away. “A lot were damaged; some were even missing. But they were mostly cases from, like, ages ago. Like the old days. The seventies and eighties and stuff.”
The look on August’s face was priceless. Jacob was almost certain August wanted to jump the counter and give this kid a clip behind the ears, and he had to cough to cover his laugh. August shot him a glare before turning back to the kid, who was still tapping away on the keyboard.
“Say,” August hedged. “If I had a case number from, say the early eighties, would you be able to look it up for me? I don’t need to see it, but just to check if it was one that didn’t go missing?”
Jake held his breath, but when the kid looked up at him, Jake gave him a smile. He hoped he was a better actor than August. The kid then looked to August, who was now giving him a smile with a dimple. Wait, August has a dimple? “Well, I could do a search for it, but if you don’t have the paperwork . . .”
“Yeah, I don’t need to see anything official. Just to know if it’s even here, then I can ask my boss to send the paperwork over,” August lied so effortlessly.
“I guess I could do that,” the young kid said.
August slid the photocopy of the case file onto the counter, and the young guy typed something into the computer. It took a second, and Jake was starting to worry. Would alarms sound any second? Would armed officers come to escort them out?
“Ah, here it is,” the kid said, reading off the screen. “Yeah. It’s here. File looks incomplete, but that’s not too uncommon for files of that age. They moved from the storage quarters in Potts Hill to here, and apparently stuff was already missing or damaged.”
“Right,” August said. “And that file, apart from the paperwork, there should be some evidence tags. Are those evidence vials here? There should be three.”
He read some more, clicked some more, then shook his head. “No evidence tags for that file. Paperwork only.”
“No vials?” August repeated. “At all?”
The guy shook his head but just kind of shrugged and smiled. “Like I said, a lot of stuff went missing or was damaged. There’re no notes to say any were even registered or destroyed or taken somewhere else. Usually when the evidence needs to be destroyed, there’s a whole lotta paperwork to go with it. But there’s nothing. No evidence was tagged with this file at all.”
August smiled, but Jacob could see the flare of his nostrils. He was pissed off. “Can you tell me the name of the officer who signed off on it?”
He squinted at the screen. “Gao. Terry Gao.” He looked up and smiled. “He’s a legend around here. Ran the old evidence store for twenty years, then this place for a while when they moved, but retired not too long after. He got sick apparently; some kind of cancer.” The kid nodded to a framed photo. “That’s him. He died a few years ago. Some of the old timers still talk about him.”
The photograph was of a Chinese man, kind of short with a bit of a bowl haircut. He was smiling for the camera in what looked like an old warehouse with brown archive boxes in the background.
August studied it for a moment, then turned to the guy. “Shame. But thanks for your help. I’ll be waiting on the retesting from the labs.”
“Will you be needing the paperwork for this file?” he asked, looking at the screen.
“Nah, there’s no point. We can’t request retesting if there’s no evidence,” August replied. “But thanks anyway. You have a good afternoon.”
They waved him off and made for a quick exit, heading straight back to the car. Jake had questions, but he’d wait until they were out of the compound first. And leaving the security gates was just as nerve wracking as it had been coming in. He thought for sure the guy was going to make them stop, and Jake’s heart was about ready to burst right out of his chest, but he just waved them through.
As soon as they were back in traffic, Jacob put his hand to his heart and let out a huge breath. “Holy shit. That was intense!”
August smiled but shook his head. “No vials. No evidence.” He tightened his hold on the steering wheel. “Fuck!”
“I know logically that evidence can’t just disappear, but I can’t say I’m surprised,” Jake admitted. “I mean, are you? Really?”
August growled. “No. But I’m pissed off!”
“What are the chances of it really being lost or misplaced or mislabelled or destroyed by accident?”
August gave him a quick glance. His brow was pinched and his gaze was fierce. It was his pissed-off face, for sure. “Or stolen.”
“Shouldn’t we notify the superintendent or the Feds?” Jake asked. “If it really is a chemical compound category nine on the prohibited list, I think we should notify someone.”
August glowered for a moment, grumbled to himself for a bit. “Yeah, agreed, but I don’t know who I can tell just yet. I want to find out what I can first. I’m not having someone blindside us on this case now. This is the closest I’ve come in eight years. Let’s just see what we can find out first.”
“Find out from where? Or from who?” Jake asked.
August put his phone in the cradle and hit a number listed as private. “Records,” a female voice answered.
“This is Detective August Shaw. Cold Case Division.”
“Yes, Detective Shaw. How can I help you?”
“I have a case from 2001 on my desk, and I need to speak to the officers who ran lead on the investigation. They could be retired by now, but I was hoping I could track them down. I’d like to speak to the detective who was in charge, if I can.”
There was a tapping on a keyboard. “Have you got a name?”
“John McCulloch, he was in Narcotics, Eastern Suburbs,” August replied, and Jacob flipped through the paperwork, and sure enough, McCulloch was the badge in charge. God, August had only skimmed this report once, hours ago. The man had a memory like a steel trap.
“John McCulloch is still active. Chief Inspector McCulloch is now stationed at Merimbula on the South Coast. I can forward his contact to the number you’re calling fr
om.”
“That would be great, thank you,” August replied, giving Jake a victorious smile.
That call ended, and August sighed with relief. “Finally, something that’s not a dead end.” His phone beeped with a message that was only another phone number. August tapped it, and after explaining who he was and asking to speak to McCulloch, he was put on hold.
“I wasn’t expecting them to just give you these other officers’ phone numbers,” Jake said.
“Happens all the time. I work cold cases. I need to verify information most days of the week.”
Just then, the on-hold music ended and a gruff voice answered. “McCulloch.”
“Chief Inspector, my name is Detective August Shaw. I’m investigating a cold case from 2001 where you ran lead. It involved a drug-seize of a chemical component called P7849.”
After a long beat of silence, it sounded as though McCulloch shifted the phone. “Yes?”
“Do you remember the case, sir? I have some questions I’m hoping you could answer.”
“Yeah, I remember it,” McCulloch replied. His tone was wary and hesitant. “That case was solved. The perp was found guilty and deported. Why is it a cold case?”
“Well, sir, I think the P7849 from that particular case is now involved in other cases.”
“You think?”
“Yes, sir. More accurately, I think it’s been used in a string of murders, sir.”
More silence.
Jake’s heart was in his throat, and August pulled the car over to park in some street Jake had never seen before. “Chief Inspector,” August continued, “your case report states that three vials of 5mg each of the chemical component P7849 were entered into evidence.” August hadn’t seen the police report. He’d seen a newspaper clipping. But McCulloch didn’t know that. They were about to learn the truth.
McCulloch swallowed loud enough for them to hear it through the phone. “Yes. That’s correct.”
“Well, according to the evidence storage division, there was no evidence submitted with that case file. At all.”
