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Dawn reached for the glass of water on her bedside table, eyes dry and blinking. Her head pounding—her memory foggy.
How did I get to bed?
Her stomach lurched. She rolled over, heart pounding, eyes wide as she scanned the other side of the bed. Puffing out her cheeks, her tight chest eased when she found it empty.
Her phone vibrated on the dressing table. Jumping out of bed, she crossed the room and grabbed it to answer. As she yanked, the phone dropped out of her hand—reaching the end of the charging cable.
‘Damn!’
Snatching it back up, she answered and pulled the cable out at the same time.
‘Detective Dawn Grave.’
Her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath.
‘Dawn.’ Sergeant Martin’s voice sounded hollow. Like he was speaking inside the bathroom.
‘Sergeant?’
‘We’ve found something. I think you had better come down to the hospital.’
‘The hospital? Is it Lisa? Is she hurt?’
Dawn could hear background noise. Steel on steel, hollow and echoing. No emergency room alarms. No complaining patients. No nurses talking.
‘Ask for me at Emergency Reception. I won’t be far away.’
‘Sergeant?’
Dawn stared at the screen, unseeing, but knowing it was blank.
Her stomach rolled again. Bile rose to her throat. The background noise wasn’t new to her. She’d been to the morgue often enough to recognise the hollow, echoing sound. The stainless steel benches. The walls lined with tiles or heavy industrial vinyl.
‘Oh, please. God. Not Lisa.’
She sank to the floor, pulled her knees to her chest and fought back the tears. They escaped and rolled silently down her cheeks despite her efforts.
She’d lost her brother to suicide. Or so the police claimed. Dawn and Lisa never believed it. Dawn became a cop because of it. Lisa became obsessed with staying and searching for the truth.
Did the truth cost her sister her life?
She hoped not.
Forcing herself to move, she rolled on to all fours, drew a deep breath, then another, and rose to see her reflection in the dresser mirror.
Dark circles loomed under her eyes. Her hair was matted and her skin dry and wrinkled. Even to her own eyes, she looked ten years older than she was.
‘No more wine!’ she promised herself as she found a wide-tooth comb and her spray-in conditioner. Everyone loved the idea of curly hair, until they had curly hair. Another reason she left Far North Queensland. The humidity made it frizz like she’d stuck her finger in a power socket.
Twenty minutes later she found herself standing at the Emergency Reception desk, lapping up the cool air floating down from the vent above her as her stomach knotted and cramped.
A nurse glanced up.
‘Sergeant Martin is expecting me.’
The nurse nodded, lifted the handset on the desk phone and pressed buttons as Dawn scanned the waiting room.
The hospital was a single-storey rambling building with long verandas connecting various buildings. The reception was lined with plastic chairs, all full. Outside, tropical foliage framed more chairs, offering additional waiting space. Most were full.
‘The sergeant is on his way. You can meet him outside.’
‘Thanks.’
Dawn crossed the foyer and opened the front door to a fresh wave of humid air. Sweat broke out on her forehead and under her arms.
A little girl dressed in a worn tulle tutu and glittered Barbie T-shirt grinned up at her. The girl’s mother, or grandmother, it was hard to tell, kept her eyes focussed on a spot on the concrete.
‘Dawn. Sorry to keep you.’
Sergeant Martin strode towards her.
‘Follow me.’
He turned before he reached her and headed back the way he came.
‘Is it Lisa?’
She jogged to catch him.
He glanced sideways a moment, then focussed his eyes on the walkway in front of them.
‘Not out here. I’ll explain everything at the morgue.’
Dawn’s insides tumbled.
He thinks it’s Lisa.
The morgue was exactly how she imagined it, but on a smaller scale than the one she often visited in the basement of the coroner’s office in Adelaide.
No long hallways of white. No dedicated receptionist. Just a coldroom like you might find in a slaughterhouse, but tidy, stark, clean.
‘This is Doctor Nicholls.’
A tall, thin woman with thick grey hair and clear blue eyes peered over her glasses and gave a curt nod, followed by a royal wave.
‘Excuse me if I don’t shake hands. I’m gloved up.’
‘All good.’
Dawn focussed on the white sheet lying over a body on the stainless-steel gurney.
‘Hope you can excuse the cold. We don’t have an autopsy suite here. Suspicious deaths get transferred to Cairns pretty quickly.’
‘But you want to identify them first.’
Dawn’s words were monotone as her eyes fixed on the sheet.
‘I’m sorry to ask you to do this, but the body ...’
‘It’s not easily recognisable.’ Dawn finished for the doctor.
‘It could be confronting,’ she offered, without confirming Dawn’s comment.
‘I’m an Adelaide police detective. I’ve seen worse. Believe me.’
She sensed, more than saw the doctor open her mouth to say more, but she stopped. Instead, she gently, almost reverently began rolling the sheet down from the top.
‘Where was the body found?’
‘On the back of the Island.’
Sergeant Martin’s tone said he understood the significance.
‘After the tide dropped then?’
‘Yes.’
The sheet continued to fold down. Dawn’s heart pounded in her chest.
‘I know it’s going to be hard to be sure. But do you think this could be Lisa Grave?’
The doctor’s voice was soft, gentle, calm.
The sheet reached the bottom of the leg.
‘No.’
‘Ah ...’
She cut the doctor off.
‘No. It’s not Lisa.’
The ache in her chest eased. She turned to the sergeant.
‘Lisa has a tattoo on the outside of her left ankle. The Yin and Yang one. You know, black, white.’
She waved her hand at the sergeant’s blank expression.
‘She got it when we were teenagers. Dad flipped.’
She nearly laughed, then recalled where she was.
‘You’re sure?’ The sergeant scanned her face, then peered at the doctor.
‘Yes. I’m sure. She also has another tattoo on her left wrist. Since the skin is gone from there, I had to wait to be sure.’
‘Any other distinguishing marks, birthmarks?’
The doctor rolled the sheet up as she spoke.
‘No. She has three ear piercings in her left, one up the top here.’ Dawn indicated the top of the lobe. ‘But the ears are gone.’
She continued, rambling she knew. In her mind, she was sure it wasn’t her sister lying dead, half decomposed and torn to pieces by hungry marine animals, but still, she needed to voice all the reasons behind her belief.
‘Okay. So, who is she?’ Sergeant Martin interrupted her ramble.
Dawn puffed out her cheeks.
‘I don’t know. Have forensics been over Lisa’s house yet?
‘Yes. I should get the report today.’
‘I have no doubt she left in a hurry. Maybe she went with someone. Maybe the someone is our dead body?’
‘Our?’
‘You aren’t getting rid of me so easily Sergeant. Besides, I’m a detective, with over ten years on the job. You can get a detective from Brisbane, or you can use me, or both.’
‘I’ve already called Cairns Major Crimes. Someone is on the way. I guarantee, they aren’t going to let you get involved in a case which is outside your jurisdiction and involves one of your own family.’
‘Two.’
‘Two what?’
‘Two of my family.’
Sergeant Martin frowned, opened his mouth to speak, but Dawn cut him off.
‘This is connected to Tracey Warren’s death. I guarantee it. And if it is connected to Tracey, it is connected to my brother’s death.’
Sergeant Martin drew a deep breath. Dawn knew what he was going to say. She raised her hand.
‘I’m not going to argue with you about this Sergeant. My sister sent me a text. Well, a lot of text messages, but one in particular makes a lot of sense now.’
‘Dawn, Lisa has been harping on about this for two decades. And a Cooktown school uniform shirt doesn’t prove a connection to Tracey’s death.’
‘I’m sure Lisa discovered something important about Tracey’s death, or maybe Fraser’s. Neither of us ever believed Fraser killed himself, and I am absolutely positive he didn’t hurt Tracey.’
‘I know you two have been adamant Fraser didn’t commit suicide, but there was never any evidence to support your theory. In fact, there was plenty to support that his death was suicide.’
‘The admission of guilt in the letter, supposedly explaining why he committed suicide, must have been written under duress.’
Sergeant Martin studied Dawn, until he finally broke eye contact. Had she hit a nerve? Did Martin agree with her?
The doctor cleared her throat. Dawn turned to see the body now covered, and the doctor’s hands hovering on the sheet, but her eyes were focussed, with a furrowed brow.
‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring this up in front of you,’ Dawn apologised.
‘Actually, no, I’m sorry for eavesdropping. But I might be able to help. I know a handwriting specialist I studied with at university. He consults for the Federal Police, along with other government organisations and the private sector.
‘Handwriting?’ Sergeant Martin frowned.
‘Yes. They can tell if someone was under duress. Shaking. If you have other handwriting samples of course.’
‘I’ll pay him to run the test. Maybe then I can get Fraser’s case reopened. Thanks doctor. I’ll be in touch.’ Dawn turned to leave. ‘I’m heading back to my sister’s.’
Sergeant Martin followed her. ‘Dawn. Wait.’
For once the warm, moist air felt good as she strode from the chilled morgue, down the covered walkway.
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘I’m fine.’ Dawn didn’t slow her pace. ‘I’d like a copy of the forensic report from my sister’s house as soon as it’s done. Has her phone been found yet? Was it in the car?’
‘I can’t give you that information. I keep telling you—you have no authority on this case. Or even in this state.’
‘Leave that to me.’
Sergeant Martin stopped walking. Dawn kept going.
No one was going to bury this case again. No one. Not Sergeant Martin. Not the Queensland Police. Not whoever killed Tracey and probably the woman lying in the morgue now.
Dawn hoped she could find them, before something happened to her sister.
Where are you Lisa? What did you find?
She opened the door on the rusted van and adjusted her position behind the wheel. Whatever Lisa found, it was likely well-hidden and there was only one place outside the home she knew Dawn would search.
The only problem was, she’d have to face the ghosts of her past to get it.