Bradley was tired of waiting for Abel to open his front door and pounded on it with increased intensity. He knew Abel could see him through the front door camera so unless the man was running around naked there was no reason not to answer. The flatbed ute was out the front so where the hell was he?
‘Are you trying to disturb my neighbours?’
The gate squealed as Abel pushed it open. He was carrying shopping bags.
‘You walk to the shops?’
‘You don’t?’ Abel passed a handful to Bradley and unlocked the front door. ‘Give me a sec to disarm the alarm.’ He went inside.
‘I’ve been here for ten minutes.’
‘Close the door on the way in.’
Bradley did so and followed Abel’s voice to the kitchen. He loved this house. Classy furnishings and expensive paintings. Carla had been here once and thought it lacked character, but he’d have happily copied a lot of the ideas if she’d liked them. Abel was clever to keep the frontage uninviting. Probably kept his rates down as well as deterring burglars.
Abel was unpacking fresh, unwrapped vegetables and fruit, and fish in butcher’s paper.
‘Queen Vic Markets?’
‘Next to growing and catching my own it’s the best option.’
After putting the other bags onto the counter, Bradley pulled out a stool. ‘Then buy some land and grow your own. Buy Vince’s place. Lots of empty space there. Put in a lake.’
‘Why are you here, boss?’
‘Your phone is turned off.’
‘And?’ Abel began to fill a sink with water, loading vegetables into it. ‘There’s nothing more to do until tonight. I talked to all the parties like you told me to. But I don’t need to be hassled all day by them. Nor by you.’
‘I’m crapping myself if you must know.’
‘About our shipment? Then leave it with me to manage later. You stay home with wifey.’ Abel scrubbed vegetables with a small wire brush, tossing them onto a drying rack as he finished each one.
How can you be so calm about this? What if it is delayed again?
His heart had been racing for hours. ‘My business is at stake.’
‘A bit more than just your business. But having a stroke over it isn’t the solution.’
‘And what about Jerry Black?’ Bradley slapped his hands on the counter. It hurt him more than the marble and he winced. ‘Look, I’m stressing. Jumping at shadows.’
With a sigh, Abel dried his hands and took a jug of some green concoction from the fridge. He poured two glasses and when Bradley began to protest that he couldn’t drink that healthy shit, added a shot of vodka to one and pushed it across.
‘Jerry Black isn’t our problem. Is he? Roscoe is the one who needs to jump at shadows because it looks like his client has turned on him, but it isn’t our problem.’ Abel drank half his glass. ‘You should drink these daily. Filled with anti-oxidants and vitamins. Helps with mood swings.’
‘Don’t have mood swings and Carla makes me take vitamins.’
‘Not natural ones like this. I’ll send her the recipe.’
He was teasing Bradley. One never really knew with Abel but it had to be a joke as he and Carla weren’t close. Not by a long shot. If he was any more relaxed he’d be asleep. Somehow it helped, seeing Abel unconcerned.
‘Have you spoken to Roscoe?’ Bradley asked.
‘God no. And I’m not going near him again until Hardy packs up and leaves. He has a police tail, and I don’t need any more visits to the station for nice little chats because they don’t believe me that Richard and I don’t have some illegal business arrangement.’
‘Well, you don’t.’ Bradley tried the green drink and screwed his nose up. But he wanted the vodka so swallowed some anyway. ‘Just makes me sick thinking that Hardy is running around killing people again and making every cop in town have an itchy trigger finger.’
‘Finish your drink and go home. I meant what I said. You can leave it to me to make sure the shipping container is secure on that truck.’ Abel finished his drink and wiped a finger inside the glass to collect the thick goo before sucking it off his skin.
Disgusting.
There was no way Bradley could force any more down. He got off the stool. ‘I’ll be there. Can't rest until this is done. And bloody Vince Carter is doing my head in. I’ll be there at eleven.’
‘Shut the door on the way out.’ Abel took both glasses to the sink.
‘And turn your phone back on.’
Carla hadn’t felt like this in years. Not since the career she’d adored had come to an abrupt stop through no fault of her own. One too many inappropriate touches from her direct supervisor and she’d snapped, formally complaining to HR and finding herself out of a job within days.
Bradley had been no help in fighting for her career, discouraging her from taking legal action even as he poured jewellery and love on her to compensate. He loved having her home and probably had always hoped she’d lose interest in work. His mother never worked outside the home, and he’d mentioned that more times than she cared to think about. Of course, he was supportive. Comforting. But not really understanding that she’d just lost everything she’d worked so hard to achieve.
Once, she would have fought tooth and nail to keep her job and see justice done. But something changed. Susie had just had Melanie and her own heart was filled with an aching hunger for a child of her own. But when a year went by and there was no baby, Carla fell into a dark place. She wanted a baby so badly it hurt. Specialists found no reason why she wasn’t falling pregnant and told them to just keep trying. After another year of no career and no baby, Carla became depressed.
She hid it for a while, but Susie was the one who worked out her best friend was suffering and talked her into getting some help. Bradley tried to make her happy with pretty baubles and holidays to exotic locations, but it was being able to be part of Melanie’s life which eventually helped her into a happier place again. And she’d never given up hope of having her own child one day.
Until now.
‘You are too old,’ she said to her reflection.
She’d just finished applying makeup after a long shower, hoping the water would wash away her mood. It hadn’t.
Downstairs, the front door closed.
‘I’m home, baby.’ Bradley called.
She hadn’t started dinner. Or even thought about it.
Carla finished buttoning up her blouse and sprayed scent onto her wrists. It didn’t matter how she felt inside. She had to look nice. It was the only way she’d bluff her way through the evening.
‘There you are.’ Bradley strode into the bedroom and tossed a jumper onto the bed. ‘Remember I’m going back out tonight to oversee the first of our new shipments going out.’
‘What time?’
‘I’ll head off around ten. But don’t stay up. Containers are fiddly things to move, and the truck will be in the warehouse for the first time.’ He stripped off his top and dropped that onto the jumper before disappearing into the walk-in robe. ‘Have you seen my turtleneck skivvy? It’ll be freezing later.’
‘Third shelf on the right.’
Carla picked up the dropped clothes and deposited them into the laundry hamper tucked inside the robe. Bradley had found what he wanted and pulled the skivvy over his head. ‘Sorry. I’d have done that.’
But you didn’t. You never do.
And it had never mattered before.
‘It’s fine, honey. What would you like for dinner?’
He followed her out, catching her near the door in his arms. ‘Anything. Something easy. You smell nice.’
She wiggled out of his embrace. ‘Well, you don’t. Whatever is that odd smell?’
‘Hm? Oh, I had one of Abel’s green concoctions just now. Tasted awful.’
‘Smells awful.’
‘He reckons I should drink them every day to increase my health. Says he’ll send you some recipes.’
‘I hope you’re joking, Bradley. Otherwise I see divorce in our near future.’
Bradley chuckled. ‘As if you’d ever leave me. We’re together forever, baby. I’m going to check my emails and will be right down.’ He was gone again.
It was how it was with him. Running from one thing to the next. Days and often nights full of ideas and plans and work. He expected her to be around to remind him where his clothes were or feed him. And he loved her. She loved him too.
But you can’t seem to find a way to bring Melanie home to me.
Liz drove along a narrow country road. She was close to two hours from the station, and it was getting dark faster than she could get to her destination. The GPS flickered every so often when she went into a dead spot and the risk of having to use a normal map was real.
‘Still there, Liz?’
‘Yeah, just went under a bridge.’
She’d been on the phone to Pete for a few minutes.
‘We’ve got the communications tap on Roscoe’s phone but there’s been no calls in or out since we set it up. Terry dropped the daytime tail. Just too stretched to follow him to his office and home again as well as watch Mrs Hardy and half a dozen others.’
‘Anything back on trace from the scene of Black’s murder?’
‘Should get some results in the morning. Liz, where the hell are you going?’
‘Told you.’
‘No. You sent me some weird message about a drone.’
Maybe she hadn’t been clear earlier. The opportunity to follow up this lead came while Pete was at home on a break, thanks to his intention to spend the night watching Roscoe again.
‘Someone was flying a drone and noticed what looks like our missing van buried in bushland. They called their local station who have located it,’ she said.
‘So you’re going there instead of letting local cops manage it.’
‘Of course I am.’
A car approached at some speed, headlights on full beam. Liz slowed and moved onto the shoulder. There was barely room to pass with the other car barrelling down the centre. Liz looked over her shoulder as it hurtled by.
‘You’re not going to believe this, but I reckon Roscoe just drove in the other direction. Can’t be too many cars like his around so can you check if he owns a property out here?’ She gave Pete the address where she was heading.
Was he visiting someone or his own property? He owned a portfolio of investment properties around the country.
Is it too much to hope this is one of them?
She turned onto an even narrower road. There were no lights out here, no houses that she could see. Lots of trees and potholes. She braked as a dozen kangaroos bounded over the road ahead, the largest of them stopping at the verge to watch her.
‘Okay, Liz. Looks like he owns five hundred hectares not far from there. Has a big house backing onto a national park where he invites special clients.’
‘Oh crap. Do you suppose Hardy is one of them?’
‘Wouldn’t that be nice for us? Tell me again why you are driving up there alone?’ Pete’s tone was part amused; part annoyed. He’d hate to miss the chance to catch Hardy.
She went up a steep hill, then down into what looked like a dead end. The headlights picked up a parked patrol car. ‘Where the hell is the van?’ All around was dense bush and the track went no further. ‘I’m there. I’ll call you shortly.’
She hung up before Pete could debate it and manoeuvred the vehicle so it was next to the patrol car, headlights shining into the undergrowth. There was the faintest shape of something large hidden from the road and a couple of flashlights headed her way.
Outside, the air was crisp. Another icy night was ahead and already, mist coloured her breath. She turned on a flashlight and flicked it around. A road to nowhere. Trees, dense bushland, rocky ground.
Two constables appeared through the gloom.
‘We checked nobody was inside. But haven’t disturbed the scene.’
‘I’ll take a look.’
The van was covered with branches, a mix of long dead ones and others cut from nearby bushes. It was a miracle it was spotted by the drone. The constables helped carefully remove enough foliage to allow access to the front.
Perhaps the person who dumped the vehicle had been clever using branches, for there were scratches and marks over much of the paintwork.
‘Someone went to a great deal of trouble to mess this up,’ Liz said. She squatted near the front far right. ‘Don’t think this is from a branch.’ She focused the flashlight onto a small series of dents, some with flakes of paint missing. ‘Would one of you hold this and concentrate on that spot?’ Handing the flashlight to a constable, she took out her phone and opened the camera.
Through the zoom of her phone, there was something else.
Red paint.
‘We’ll need to advise FSD.’
She didn’t need forensic evidence to prove what she saw but the courts would.
Once she’d made a few phone calls, the constables were tasked with watching the van and warned it might be a long night with nobody available from Crime Scene to come up until dawn.
‘I’ll give your sergeant a call on my way back to make sure you’re not stuck here all night.’ The youngsters looked glum. ‘Do you happen to know who owns the land here?’
‘The van’s on council land, ma’am. But on the other side of the fence,’ she pointed, ‘that belongs to the solicitor. The one whose client escaped custody.’
‘Richard Roscoe?’
‘Yes. Him.’
‘Do you see him up here? Around your local town?’
‘Now and then. He sometimes hosts big parties. House is a mansion, and he puts money into local businesses. You know, caterers and the like.’
‘I might need one of you to show me. Let me make another phone call.’
‘That’s what happens when you stop tailing someone. Roscoe might have been ferrying Hardy back and forward to his own damned property.’ Pete was in Liz’s car, binoculars trained on the front of Roscoe’s house from a nearby hill.
‘Are you liking Hardy for the Weaver crash?’
Pete nodded. ‘Dumb to dump the van close to Roscoe’s property but he probably reckoned it was well hidden. Dump it and walk to the house.’
‘There’s so many loose ends, Pete. Why would Hardy want David dead? How would he get hold of that van, which belongs to Pickering? Does he want Bradley blamed for it? And why leave it here, where his own lawyer will be implicated?’
‘With a bit of luck, the sleazebag is in that house and we’ll get to ask him those and other questions before the night is through.’
Liz couldn’t wait for the Critical Incident Response Team to arrive and take over. She’d been here for more than two hours, and nothing had moved at the property. Terry was on another boundary along with three other officers.
‘The place is huge.’ Liz had downloaded a floorplan. Roscoe only purchased it a year earlier and the original sale ad was on a ‘past sales’ page of the selling agent. ‘Seven bedrooms, four bathrooms, cinema room, games room, indoor pool with conservatory, plus staff accommodation.’
‘So where are the staff?’ Pete lowered the binoculars. ‘A place this size would need people to maintain it but apart from the outside lights there isn’t a sign of anyone.’
‘Unless Roscoe cleared them out. If he has stashed Hardy here then people knowing is a liability.’
Pete snorted. ‘Hundreds of acres to bury any bodies on his own land and thousands around him.’
Terry’s number came up on the phone.
‘You’re on speaker, boss,’ said Liz.
‘Richard Roscoe has been taken in for questioning screaming blue murder about how he will sue us. His fancy car is impounded and I’m not sure if he’s more upset about that or being interviewed.’
Liz and Pete grinned at each other. Best news in days.
Terry continued. ‘CIRT is a few minutes out. One of you come and meet me on foot back down the hill near the road.’
He hung up.
‘Rock, paper, scissors?’ Pete suggested.
‘I know you can’t resist hanging around with the real police.’ Liz teased. ‘Go. I’ll be here making sure not even a mouse shows its face down there.’
‘And if it does?’ Pete opened the door.
‘I’ll tell you. And then I’ll go and catch it. Or is it the other way around?’
‘Funny. Keep your head down.’
‘You too.’
Within a minute Pete was out of sight. The house was surrounded by hills with one long driveway winding for half a kilometre from the dirt road Pete was heading to. Through the binoculars the house was still quiet. No vehicles. Darkness surrounded the car.
The phone rang and Liz jumped.
Settle down.
It was Vince and she hesitated. Now wasn’t the time to lose her focus. But if it was urgent…
‘You okay?’ She answered.
‘Yeah. Bad time?’
‘Stakeout.’
‘Damn. Sorry, call me tomorrow,’ he said.
‘I have a minute.’
‘Any chance I can drop into the station tomorrow? I’ve run into a wall with some of David’s paperwork and need to escalate it. Get some official help.’
You’re asking for help? What on earth is it?
‘You know you can. But I don’t know yet when I’ll be there.’
‘Where are you?’
‘On a hill surrounded by bushland outside a town near Maryborough.’
Vince chuckled. ‘And you sound thrilled. You’re not expecting to come across Hardy out there?’
‘Given how slippery he is, probably not.’
A light came on in the house on the upper floor.
‘Vince, there’s some movement. Can I message you in the morning?’ Liz was climbing out of the car.
‘Go. Be safe.’ He hung up.
She dialled Pete as she popped the boot. ‘There’s a light on. Left corner, top floor.’
‘Heading back now.’
Her vest went over the head, and she prepped the rifle. If Hardy was in that house he wasn’t going to get away from them.