Back at Goulburn Street police headquarters, Kate and Oliver stood outside Inspector Gareth Russo’s office.
‘You wanted to see us, sir,’ Kate said from the entrance.
‘Come in, close the door,’ he said without looking up. ‘And take a seat.’
‘Sir, I’d prefer to stand if you don’t mind.’ She remained in the doorway, half closing the door for privacy while leaving it open enough for air. Oliver assumed an at-ease stance. Kate wondered if he had some kind of military background. Then again, he was ‘nice’ enough to have been a boy-scout leader in his youth.
The triathlon-obsessed head of homicide sat with white sleeves perfectly and symmetrically rolled. To describe him as fastidious would have been an understatement.
‘There’s been a development in the Penfold case.’ He looked up over half-moon reading glasses. ‘The girl’s car has been found, abandoned, with her mobile phone in it.’
Kate closed her eyes. That didn’t bode well. No nineteen-year-old would voluntarily leave behind her means of communication with the world. Teenagers seemed unable to function without texting friends every few minutes. But then, from what her parents had said, Candice may not have had many friends.
‘Crime scene is going over the car,’ her boss continued. ‘Preliminary testing with luminol has found something positive on the driver’s and back seats. The car’s been cleaned, but they’re swabbing to confirm whether it’s blood.’
Kate felt her pulse gallop. The chances of finding the Penfold girl alive had just got a lot slimmer.
‘Do you have any real leads yet?’ Russo asked, putting his glasses into an open case by his paperwork.
Oliver cleared his throat. ‘The mother suggested looking into a former boyfriend of the sister who lives overseas. Apparently this guy was obsessed with Lesley and would do anything to get her to come back. She told him that she’d only come home for a funeral or family crisis.’
‘I’d say this constitutes a crisis, wouldn’t you, Detective?’
Oliver nodded, like a boy in front of the headmaster.
‘I’m taking you off the burnt homicide victim.’
Kate held one foot against the door and jammed both hands into her pockets. ‘But the woman gave birth. There is a baby we have a duty of care to find.’
‘I’ve got people manning the phones, collecting leads. I’ll reassign the case. With the abandoned car, I need you two on the Penfold job. You’ve met the parents and already have the background info. And they’ve personally requested you stay on the case.’
Kate felt her anger rise. They had attended the fire scene and canvassed the neighbours, and been through the autopsy. The murder case should have been theirs, with maximum effort put into finding the child.
‘You can write up your reports later but give Fiskars and Rench a handover as soon as possible. Where are you with it so far?’
Kate clenched her fists out of sight and tried to sound calm. No doubt Russo would be looking for any signs of stress or inability to cope with the job. The police psychologist would have made sure the chief inspector complied with occupational health and safety criteria.
‘There’s a complication with the body.’ She felt her face colour, but tried to ignore it. ‘The pathologist says it’s been frozen.’
‘What do you mean exactly by “frozen”?’ Russo sounded impatient. He must have been under more pressure than usual, presumably with the Penfold case. The media frenzy over the incinerated mother and missing baby would not have helped.
‘As in frozen solid. The organs were still intact, which was surprising given the degree of heat the fire generated. Dr Latham said they had formed crystals in their cells, which means that whoever killed her put her in some kind of freezer.’
The veins in Russo’s neck began to bulge. ‘Killers who do that usually dismember the bodies first, at least so they’ll fit.’
‘Well,’ Kate continued, ‘she was completely intact. We’ve no way of knowing how long she’d been dead, or –’
‘So there’s no time of death, no ID and no idea how old the child is, or was? If you ever find the killer, you’ll never pin him down to a window of opportunity. We’d better pray someone turns up with a tape of the killer caught in the bloody act.’
Kate hoped Russo was finished with them, but their boss sat forward and tapped his index finger on the veneer desk. ‘And I suppose you don’t know where she was killed, either. The papers are going to crucify us, and the radio shock jocks will be scaring every parent in the state.’
‘About the media,’ Kate said tentatively, ‘have you had much of a response from people claiming to know the victim?’
Russo’s face deepened in colour.
Oliver looked like he wanted to melt into the carpet.
‘Ancillary staff have been running around like blue-arsed flies chasing all the false leads. People are ringing up about missing neighbours. A woman who allegedly disappeared with her baby was in hospital with her kid. Another helpful citizen claimed the pregnant woman down the street came back with twins, and she must have stolen a baby because she didn’t look that big when she was pregnant. So I had some uniforms check out the ultrasound photos – of two waving sets of hands.’ One vein in his neck looked like it might burst. ‘And did you know this was a terrorist attack? Oh yeah, and a psychic reckons the woman and the kid spontaneously combusted.’
As annoying as crank calls were, Kate thought, at least people had noticed the stories. Amidst the calls might just be the one that would identify the mother and child.
Russo leant back in his chair. ‘Forget about the burnt victim for now. Fiskars and Rench have wrapped up two of their cases and can carry the extra load for a few days. You just deal with the Penfold disappearance. It doesn’t look good, but there may be a chance she’s still alive. You can start by letting the parents know about the car and gauge their reaction. If you think you’ll need phone taps approved, let me know.’
‘Excuse me, sir. Is there reason to suspect the parents?’ Oliver asked.
Kate felt the heat in her face rise again. If there was something relevant to the case, why hadn’t she been informed? Her fingers dug into her palms inside her suit pockets. Calming down wasn’t as easy as the police therapist kept telling her.
‘Remember the first rule of homicide, detectives. Start with those closest to the family and work your way out. Don’t always assume the obvious.’ He sat back and placed both palms on the desk. ‘And, Farrer, try to be diplomatic. I don’t want complaints about harassment from the family.’ He put his glasses back on and resumed his paperwork.
Kate didn’t move. She was not some kind of beginner, she was an experienced investigator, and a bloody good one. Three months off hadn’t affected her mind. So why was she being treated like an incompetent fool?
‘Farrer, do you have a problem? If you’re not up to the task, I can assign you desk duties.’
What the hell was he doing? Did he want her to fail? She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.
Oliver almost pushed Kate out of the room. She headed straight for the women’s toilets. Inside, she paced, counting to ten to control her temper. On the count of nine she gave up and swung her boot into a cubicle door. Pain shot through her foot. She took the weight off it and tried to decipher what was happening. She had felt paranoid about returning to work and should have been flattered when Russo asked her to help out on the Penfold case. Now she wondered if she were being set up to fail, and whether Russo was somehow involved. Maybe they wanted her to resign because they thought someone like her was a liability. Was she being blamed for her abduction? It made sense if Oliver was the only one willing to partner her. She wasn’t popular before, but now she was like damaged goods, and bad luck as well. If she was being lured into a tainted investigation, Oliver and his career would be affected in the process, unless he was part of the plan.
God, she thought. Now she really did sound paranoid.
I choose not to be a victim. I am a survivor.
She took her boot and sock off and the cool floor soothed the pain.
I choose to be a survivor.
She splashed some cold water on her face and wiped it with a paper towel. Her foot was red where she had connected with the door and the top portion was swelling, but she could still bear weight on it. Nothing was broken.
Kate had worked under Russo for a couple of years and, up until today, had nothing but respect for the man. He was friendly without being overly involved or intrusive, and gave his detectives a long rope, but not long enough for them to do damage with. Occasionally known to drink with the boys after work, he had never once made Kate feel intimidated or unaccepted. He’d approved her application to join homicide, ahead of numerous applicants who had already acted in the job. He had also asked her to come back, specifically, to his unit . . . Her conspiracy theory was ridiculous. No one had it in for her. They were all preoccupied with their own jobs.
Back in control of her temper, Kate quietly returned to her desk, trying to hide a grimace when she stepped on her self-inflicted injury. Oliver had an instant coffee waiting for her that had gone tepid. This time she didn’t complain about the gesture, but thanked him and drank it.
Oliver wheeled his chair across to her. ‘What was that all about? Do you two have some kind of coded language?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I assumed that warning about the family was for my benefit. For some reason he couldn’t come out and say what he knew in front of me.’
‘It wasn’t just you,’ Kate said. ‘He’s withholding something, but expects us to solve the case ASAP.’
‘Is that what you thought? I got the impression he was trying to warn us about the family without specifically saying why. My guess is that he found out something illegally, or off the record.’
Oliver sounded like a journalist, but he might just be right. Today’s behaviour was definitely bizarre for Russo. He’d mentioned the possibility of phone taps on the family. Perhaps Russo’s office was being monitored, and that was his way of letting Kate know. Internal investigations went on, and the Commission Against Corruption was not above bugging colleagues, at any level. Anyone in the department could be the target and might have been for the last few months. With her three-month absence, it was no wonder she was excluded from rumours about surveillance, but it still helped to know if their conversations were being monitored.
‘Either way, he wants us to investigate the parents first, so that’s what we’ll do. Let’s break the news to the father.’
‘You mean stepfather,’ Oliver said, as though it made a significant difference.
‘His office is in town, and it saves us a trip out to Kenthurst and back. We can “gauge” him from there.’
Kate paced the white-tiled floor, trying to minimise the pressure on the ball of her foot, while the receptionist phoned Robert Penfold. Oliver stood calmly taking in the view of Darling Harbour through a glass wall. Boats and water taxis carried people across to shops and restaurants from the redeveloped wharf area. A commuter catamaran from Circular Quay headed west towards the Parramatta River, the afternoon sun reflecting off the water.
Up fifty-three floors in the Market Street suites, Kate had no intention of wandering closer to the glass. No window was thick enough to make her feel secure when she was up that high.
‘At least they haven’t asked us to take our shoes off,’ Kate said, trying to lighten the moment.
‘If you had one of these, you would never need to go anywhere,’ Oliver said, mesmerised by a massive plasma screen showing collages of technological advances.
What was it with men and televisions, Kate wondered. Oliver was more interested in that than the attractive receptionist. So far, he was completely different from all of her previous partners. Each of them would have been dribbling at the sight of the pretty brunette.
Kate continued to pace the office foyer. With its vast space and expensive views, it resembled a media company more than an IT business. Robert Penfold was obviously successful, or at least that was what he wanted people to think. She made a mental note to look into his business dealings, whether he was being audited, or investigated by the Securities and Investment Commission. Did he owe money? Had someone kidnapped his daughter as payback, or was someone trying to extort money from him? Did he have any shady business dealings? Something had aroused Russo’s suspicion, but what?
Kate wondered whether the Penfolds were hiding something when they requested homicide investigate their daughter’s disappearance. They had to have excellent contacts either in politics, the police force, or both. But some secrets could not be buried by power. Most could, but murder could not. Secrets that big destroyed lives and eventually one of the stakeholders cracked. Kate wondered again whether she and Oliver were being set up to botch the investigation. A traumatised detective and an inexperienced sidekick might just help a murderer get away with it, if that’s what the Penfolds wanted. Her temples began to pound.
‘You can go in now.’
The receptionist flashed a smile at Oliver, but he barely acknowledged her, despite her long legs and very short skirt. Either he was not normally flirtatious, or he had a lot on his mind as well. For some reason she didn’t fully understand, that impressed Kate.
Robert Penfold appeared from a corridor and shook their hands. This time he wore black leather shoes and an open-necked shirt. But instead of looking more relaxed than he had at their first meeting, he seemed nervous and a little unsure of himself.
Inside his office, he stood by the door, waiting to close it, until Kate used her shoe to wedge the doorstop into place.
‘Can my assistant get you anything? Tea, coffee, water?’
‘No thanks. We need to discuss something with you.’ Kate took the lead.
‘Have a seat.’ He directed them to leather lounges configured in a square around a glass coffee table, not unlike the one in the Penfolds’ home. At one end of the penthouse-sized room, a treadmill faced another large plasma screen. There appeared to be a bathroom off a nook behind the desk, and two more doors. One could have been a wardrobe, or even a bedroom. This office was bigger than Kate’s place, and perfectly set up for someone who worked long hours – or wanted privacy away from home.
‘Do you have any news?’ Penfold pressed his hands together. ‘My wife is a mess. She needed sedation overnight. Actually, we’re all pretty distressed by this and just want Candice home.’
He was stalling, probably not wanting to hear what they had to say, not that Kate could blame him for postponing bad news. If they had found his daughter alive, he would already have heard by phone.
She cleared her throat. ‘We’ve found Candice’s car. It was abandoned and her phone was inside it.’
Kate paused and studied his face. His eyes darted between the detectives, as if waiting – pleading – for more.
‘Where’s Candy? Is she hurt?’
‘I’m afraid we don’t know any more at the moment.’
There was a knock on the door. The receptionist entered with a tray of glasses and a bottle of water. Without a word, she filled three glasses before leaving.
‘Was the car in some kind of accident? Or did it break down?’ Penfold sat forward, his face in his hands. ‘It was always overheating, or Candy just ran out of petrol. She doesn’t appreciate that cars don’t fill themselves or that they need to be maintained.’ He looked up, his eyes misting over.
Oliver edged forward in his seat.
Penfold could barely control the tremble in his hands. ‘You’re here because you think something terrible has happened, aren’t you?’
‘We don’t know,’ Oliver said. ‘It is unusual to leave a phone behind, but it may have dropped out of her bag. She may be intending to come back for it.’
‘The phone battery was flat and your daughter may not have needed it anymore, especially if she ran away and isn’t ready to make contact.’ Kate decided to stick with the concept of Candice having run away rather than disclosing the possibility that her blood had been found in the car. That could wait until formal lab confirmation.
The last thing the family needed was misinformation and added anxiety, particularly when blood wasn’t the only thing luminol reacted with: it also picked up numerous other substances, like plant matter, some paints, metals and cleaning products. Given that Mrs Penfold was obsessed with a clean house, there was a chance the luminol results would turn out to be ‘false-positives’. Waiting for confirmation was the only sensible option. Or so Kate reassured herself.
Oliver took out his notebook and asked Mr Penfold if he minded being asked some questions. Kate listened as she wandered over to the desk, looking carefully at the number of photos displayed there. Images of Penfold hugging his two girls at various ages filled the frames. Candid portraits of the three laughing, in black and white and colour, adorned the walnut desk. Oddly, there was only one small photo of his wife. In one shot, a small square picture of the kind printed in the seventies, Penfold squatted down with three children, two boys and a girl. The girl didn’t resemble Candice or Lesley. Kate felt curiously uncomfortable looking at the photos.
‘How would you describe your relationship with Candice and Lesley?’ she asked. ‘Judging by these snapshots, you three are, or were, very close.’
Robert Penfold joined her at his desk. ‘We always have been,’ he said, picking up a picture taken when his daughters were aged around eight and ten. ‘This one’s my favourite,’ he said. ‘It was taken on holiday in Hawaii. Candy had been through a tough time, not doing well at school, and she had just been diagnosed with a learning disorder. She had trouble losing weight and got teased a lot by the other kids.’ He wiped a smudge off the glass. ‘This was the first time I saw her really enjoy herself. We all shared a room and had a ball. She was eight and a half when this was taken.’
‘Do you think it’s possible that she has a boyfriend you don’t know about?’
The father’s tone turned sombre. ‘No way. She was a terrible liar and would get a rash on her neck every time she tried to distort the truth. She told me everything and promised me that she had never been sexually active.’
Oliver flicked Kate a look of surprise. ‘I’m close to my daughters,’ he began, ‘but I hope that they’ll confide in their mother about that sort of thing. Having been there herself, I guess she’ll be a bit more understanding.’
‘Well, Candy and Lesley’s mother is a perfectionist, Detective. She expects a lot from her children. Sometimes that’s hard on them. I tend to be the fun parent, the one they can relax and make a mess with, wear shoes in the house if they want, the stuff their mother doesn’t allow.’
Kate noticed the way he neglected to mention his wife’s name, referring to her only in the possessive form. Perhaps the marriage wasn’t as united as the couple had made out at their home.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Penfold added. ‘She is a wonderful mother and would do anything for her family. That’s one of the reasons I married her.’
Kate tried to sound casual, but wasn’t sure how to pull it off. ‘Has your wife ever been jealous of your closeness to the girls?’
Thankfully, he didn’t seem to infer anything from the question. ‘The girls were close to their mother when they were little, but as they grew, they loved coming into the office, and even going away on business trips with me. Janine preferred to stay at home and she thinks sometimes I spoilt them, Candy more than Lesley.’ He put down the picture, eyes welling again. ‘I tried to protect them from the world, but I’ve let them down. First Lesley, with that Dobbie character, and now Candy.’ He turned his face away and began to cry. ‘I never knew that the children you love could hurt you so much.’