Lexie sat at her desk with her head in her hands, thankful she hadn’t been sick in front of Josh. She would have been mortified, never able to look him in the eye again, if that had happened. And although she was grateful the churning in her stomach had stilled, the night’s events had left her mind spinning and second-guessing herself, while the rest of her felt strangely numb, like a distant observer separated from her own body.
An image of the bikie, lying in a pool of his own blood, flashed before her eyes. What had he been trying to tell her? He’d definitely said ‘Grub’. Hadn’t he? The letters were ingrained in her mind. Yes, he had definitely said ‘Grub’. But what did it mean? She’d gone over those last moments, before the ambulance arrived, a thousand times, but still her brain failed to come up with any brilliant insight as to what he’d been trying to tell her.
It had to be a nickname, possibly code for something, or more than likely someone. Had Bluey seen his killer or was she completely off track? Was he just rambling? Frustration formed a knot in her neck. If only she’d been able to get more out of him.
‘What time is the briefing?’ Jeff Sleeman’s booming voice yelled to no one in particular.
Startled, Lexie looked up and glanced around the office as if suddenly awakening from a bad dream. Her head was foggy. She had been so engrossed in her own thoughts she’d failed to notice the office buzzing around her. Where the hell had everyone come from? Bustling bodies moved purposefully in all directions; someone patted her on the back as they whipped past accidentally knocking her chair. Voices yelled out to each other across the room as fingers clicked away on computer keyboards. She watched the commotion in stunned fascination.
Casey Blair came up behind her.
‘Come into my office and talk to me.’
A moment later Lexie found herself sitting across from her boss having no recollection of how she got there. What was wrong with her?
‘You’re a mess. Are you all right?’ Casey asked, pushing herself back in her chair and regarding her seriously.
Lexie almost took offence at her comment but quickly realised her boss was staring at her blood-soaked clothing. She’d scrubbed her hands clean of the blood but there was nothing she could do about her clothes.
‘I know, sorry, I’m fine,’ she said, fiddling anxiously with the gold bracelet on her wrist.
She found herself suddenly gripped by an irrational fear. But it was not the panic she was used to; it was the fear of failure, of not living up to her own standards or those of others. Was her boss wondering and worrying if she could handle things; if she was cut out to be a detective?
The boss glanced at Lexie’s hands. She stopped fidgeting.
‘Don’t be sorry; Josh told me you did a great job,’ Casey told her quietly. ‘He also told me the victim gave you a dying declaration. What did he say?’
‘I think he was saying, “Grub. Grub shot me.” ’
‘You think . . .?’
‘I know, I’m sure,’ Lexie confirmed. ‘That’s what he said but I don’t know what it means.’
‘That was all he said?’
Lexie nodded. ‘That’s all he said. He was struggling to breathe. I could hardly hear him. But his last words were clear: “Grub shot me.” ’
Her boss shook her head.
‘It sounds like a nickname,’ she said, mirroring Lexie’s thoughts. ‘I’ll get one of our analysts to look into it; check with the bikie desk and search the data base. You never know your luck. If we find a bikie who goes by the name of “Grub” we’ve got our first suspect.’
‘Now that would be too easy,’ Lexie murmured, rolling her eyes.
Casey laughed quietly. ‘It would, wouldn’t it? And as you know, unfortunately, when it comes to bikies, nothing is ever easy. They hate us with a passion and want to handle things their own way. That’s going to be our biggest problem – preventing further violence.’
Lexie nodded in agreement.
‘I know working at the Cross you’ve had more than your fair share of dealings with bikies and after your experience with Amitt Vincent and then Rex Donaldson, I can understand if you are a bit hesitant about dealing with them.’
Lexie could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Was the boss going to take her off the case? She opened her mouth to protest but nothing came out.
Casey Blair held up her hand. ‘All I’m saying, Lexie, is that I’m not going to treat you any differently to anyone else in this office, but what I do expect is that, if there is a problem, you come and tell me.’
Lexie nodded. ‘There won’t be any problems.’
Casey Blair eased the tension by smiling. ‘I’m sure there won’t be. But as I said, my door is always open. Now back to the matter at hand. I’m not telling you how to suck eggs. I know you’re an experienced officer, but this will be your first murder investigation as a detective, so take it all in and learn from it. This will be very good experience for you.’
Lexie felt a guilty bubble of excitement stirring in her chest as she envisaged herself solving the case, tracking down the killer and putting him before the court. She would find this Grub, prove she was worthy of her position and . . . Oh, keep dreaming.
How she hated that nagging voice of self-doubt.
A middle-aged man dressed in a perfectly pressed suit appeared outside the office doorway.
‘That was quick. The homicide detectives are here,’ Casey told her. ‘Lexie, get in touch with Batman and Lurch. They were first to arrive at the office and have been out doing a canvass of the immediate area around the clubhouse. Tell them to get back here before 3.00 am. I want to know if they’ve come up with anything before the briefing.’
Lexie stood up to leave. ‘Yes, Boss.’
‘Where do you live, Lexie?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Where do you live? Are you nearby?’
‘Yes, ten minutes away. I’m at Clovelly.’
‘Good. You’ve got just over an hour before the briefing. Duck home and have a shower. Get out of those soiled clothes.’
Lexie nodded, thinking that sounded like the best idea she’d heard all day.