Liz and Terry waited back a bit but Pete went with the CIRT team to the house. He’d done enough work with them in the past to know when to get out of the way and thanks to the size of the place, covering all the bases mattered. Other police officers formed a boundary of sorts, like Liz, twenty or so metres from the main building.
All the hours of waiting came to a quick end as the unit moved in. Within a few minutes it was clear for Liz to go inside, and Terry ran around to the back of the house to help with searching the small buildings.
Pete was flicking on internal lights as she went in, muttering expletives to himself.
‘Nothing?’ Her heart sank. She’d been sure they were on the right path.
‘One terrified housekeeper. Reckons she had a nap after Roscoe left and just woke up.’
‘And I suppose she knows nothing about Malcolm Hardy.’
Tactical officers moved about the house, revisiting each room. There’d been no need for a warrant based on the belief that Hardy was inside. But unless a visual search turned up some evidence of illegal activity, they’d need to leave soon.
‘I’m going to see if Terry had any luck.’ Liz left without looking back. She felt sick from tiredness and the crash from the excitement.
Terry looked like she felt. ‘Not giving up. We’ve asked for a warrant to do a full search but doubt if we’ll see that before mid-morning. Local uniforms will post a guard here and at the van… unless anything happens, and they need to use them. Small town and all that.’
‘I’ll stay.’
He shook his head. ‘Pete can stay. You and I need to go back.’
‘Now?’
‘I’ll talk in your car. Meet me there in ten?’
Terry disappeared into the night. Liz hurried back to the house to find Pete. He brushed off the fact he was staying. ‘Don’t mind it. That way I’ll nab the little shit if he comes back. You go home and sleep and I’ll bring his head in as a trophy.’
She was still grinning at his attitude when Terry got into the car. He was straight on his phone, so she navigated her way back down the almost non-existent track to the main road—such as it was—and followed that to the small town of Talbot. It was a ten-minute drive along dark roads and came out not far from the railway station. She slowed, frowning. Maybe an hour on foot would get someone there.
Terry hung up. ‘Why are we going at a snail’s pace?’
‘Railway station.’
He glanced back. ‘Deserted for the night.’
‘Just a thought. Since I’m driving, do you mind making a note for me? I’d like to check any footage from the station from the night Susie died to the time the van was reported missing.’
‘What are you thinking, Lizzie?’ He tapped on his phone. ‘Note made.’
‘Not sure. But someone dumped that van, and it may be that they went to Roscoe’s house. But boss, what if it wasn’t Hardy? What if whoever stole the van and ran the Weaver’s off the road brought it up here for a reason? Perhaps to target Roscoe.’
Terry was quiet and Liz glanced across. He had his thinking face on. She let him ponder as they reached the open road and she accelerated.
‘As in… organised crime? Not sure,’ he said. ‘Hardy skirted around the outside of it although heaven knows he had contacts inside it. I’ve spent plenty of time at Keilor and Faulkner cemeteries keeping an eye on gangland funerals.’
‘Or blackmail.’
Why didn’t I see this earlier?
‘Blackmailing who?
‘That is the million-dollar question.’ Liz overtook a car. ‘Why are we going back?’
‘Ah. It occurred to me that visiting Bradley Pickering’s warehouse might be time well served.’
Liz put her foot down.
Vince stared at the screen. He’d mustered the courage to read more of Susie’s emails and had a handwritten list of notes to one side. She’d been one to write daily more often than not, from a cheery check in to pictures of Melanie—which he’d copied to a folder—to longer, more reflective emails. There was one he kept returning to, written a few days before she’d cut him out of her life.
We’ve been talking about buying another house. You know how much I love it here, but I guess David has some valid points. He reminded me how much I miss having more space around me. I miss Apple. Remembering those days riding her and when you and I used to ride our bikes… I’d love for Melly to have some more nature-based experiences. Maybe not her own pony but at least some space to throw a ball and invent adventures in the garden. It was a good childhood for me.
Every time he read those words his breath had caught. Vince always thought she’d hated her life, not only because of losing her mother but all the things she’d missed out on. She’d only had a couple of school friends and none of the fancy clothes or expensive gadgets kids wanted. He’d forgotten this email. Forgotten reading this at the time she sent it and being shocked her experience was different from his memories.
‘What else have I got wrong?’
Melanie is growing up so quickly that I can see why David is wanting this for her. It would mean going out a bit further and that’s where my biggest concern is. We’d need to change schools and Melanie loves hers. It is horribly expensive and as she gets into the higher grades there will be even more pressure financially. And although I like going there to help out, they’ve started asking for more of my time and it already takes so many hours each week. I’d love to get back to having a career. If we moved, I think she’d understand the distance is too great. So there are pluses there.
Little pieces were fitting together. David had wanted to make big life changes for his family. Buy a new business. Move further from town. Change schools. Why?
But Dad? I have the oddest feeling there’s more to this than David is saying. He isn’t talking about what goes on at work much. Some days I get the impression he’d rather stay home. I know you have your opinions about him—and you are wrong —he loves us a lot and has said he’ll never let anything bad happen.
Vince pushed himself back from the table. ‘But you did, David. You did let something bad happen.’ He wiped a hand across his eyes to brush away the stupid tears.
As much as he wanted to hate David, to blame David, the man hadn’t asked to be run off the road. Just maybe he had done nothing wrong. He picked up the letter to David about successfully buying the other business. Was this all a new start for his family? Had David had enough of the shady practices that Bradley undertook?
How does this all connect together?
With a heavy heart, he returned to the emails.
‘Chances are the place is locked up. But since I got to Roscoe’s property I’ve had Jerry Black in my head,’ Terry said. ‘No way to prove it but he sent us to the airport deliberately that day.’
The roads were quiet at this late hour, even back in the suburbs. They were only a few minutes from the warehouse, and she turned onto the main road leading to its street.
‘He denied it. Said he’d had a call from someone who saw Hardy near the airport, and we sent how many officers?’ Terry shook his head. ‘Would have made it a bit easier for Hardy to be moved somewhere.’
‘And you think Roscoe just did the same thing?’
A truck approached carrying a shipping container, passing by in the direction of the docks. That place never stopped working.
Liz was bone weary and longed for her bed. But if Terry was right…
‘Perhaps. It is convenient somebody called in a sighting of that van. It wouldn’t take much to work out one of us would investigate it. And where you saw Roscoe’s car? Easy for him to have sat at the top of that hill waiting and make a show of taking up the road to get attention.’
‘Lots of moving parts, boss. We might have missed him. Or not connected that he had a house up there.’
‘But he’s a weasel and it might have been a risk worth taking.’
They rounded the corner to the warehouse.
‘Go past slowly, Liz. I’ll take a look.’
As usual the dead-end street was devoid of lights and movement. None of the businesses were open and the warehouse was in darkness. Liz turned at the bottom of the road and pulled the car over across the driveway.
‘Dammit.’ Terry muttered.
‘Shall we take a look?’
‘Locked up. Chain on the gate. No vehicles. We either missed something or there was nothing to miss.’ Terry patted the dashboard. ‘Can you drop me at the station so I can grab my car?’
A chill ran down Liz’s spine. It was happening again.
‘Lizzie?’
She pulled the sleeve up on her arm and held it for Terry to see. All the hairs were raised. ‘I think we’re being watched.’
Instead of laughing at her like Pete might have, Terry was out of the car in an instant. She followed and grabbed a large flashlight. They stood almost back-to-back on the footpath searching for any sign of movement.
‘Any idea from where?’ Terry kept his voice low.
‘Just a weird feeling. Probably nothing.’
‘Trust your instincts. Do you want to take one side of the street and I’ll do the other?’
The feeling didn’t leave Liz as she checked the frontage of the half dozen businesses. No sign of a person. There were a few work vans behind locked gates. If someone was inside one of the buildings they would be able to see her, and most had tinted windows so her flashlight reflected back on itself.
‘Not even a rat heading for a gutter.’ Terry met her at the end of the street. ‘If we’re being observed, they’re hiding themselves.’
‘Have you checked the warehouse?’
They started back up, Liz continuing to sweep the light from side to side.
‘Chains on the gate. Nothing through the windows. No vehicles parked. It looks all locked up and quiet.’
Outside the warehouse, Liz shook her head. ‘Sorry, Terry. I’m overtired.’ She stepped around the car. ‘Hang on.’
In the gutter was a half-smoked cigarette. She picked it up in an evidence bag. ‘Still warm.’
‘I’ll make a request for an urgent comparison to the one you found near the site of the car crash. That’s what you’re thinking?’ Terry took it from her, his eyes intense. ‘That whoever smoked this one might have smoked the other?’
‘That van we found… it belongs to Pickering and had red paint transference. I know there’s a long bow here—’
‘I reckon its getting shorter.’
So do I.
She took one final look around, her spine tingling.