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The wind was gone. A blanket of oppressive, moist air settled over the town as the late afternoon sun tried to peek out through thick clouds. The hum of cicadas grew louder as the setting sun reflected a myriad of rainbow colours through the skyline.
‘What do you make of the senior?’ Ryan asked, as he rounded the bonnet of his vehicle to join Dawn on the pavement outside the pub.
‘I had no idea Tracey was his niece. You’d think he’d have even more reason to want the truth, not settle for making my brother the scapegoat.’
‘Unless he had something to do with her death.’
‘If he did, there’s no obvious connection between him and Jessica. And why grab Ronnie?’
‘Maybe they aren’t related. Maybe Jessica’s murder was a copycat killing?’
‘Then the whole P & C and swimming connection goes out the window.’
Ryan shrugged. ‘Just saying.’
He pushed the glass door open. Dawn drew in the cool air, but knew it wasn’t going to last long. There was no air-conditioning around the bar and courtyard dining area.
‘They should be out back. I texted Lisa we were coming down to talk to Brad and she said he was with her. The kids were playing together earlier in the park over the road.’
‘Handy.’
‘Maybe. She’ll keep the kids busy while we question Brad about Fairweather.’
Ryan studied her as they stepped into the courtyard’s sauna-like atmosphere.
‘How are you handling all this?’
‘This. What?’
‘Fairweather, the guy who, you know, back when you were a kid ... and now, he’s your niece’s dad.’
‘It is what it is. I can’t change any of it, but if I can prove Fairweather has been sneaking around with under-age girls, and has anything to do with our victims’ deaths, he’ll wish he was never born.’
‘What will you do to him?’
Dawn grinned as images of slow torture filled her head, but she knew she wouldn’t do anything so cruel. Despite what he’d put her through.
‘For a start, I’ll make sure he never sees his daughter again.’
Brad sat next to Lisa, trying to keep a brave face as the three children laughed and played like nothing was amiss.
‘Brad. Can we have a minute?’
Ryan crooked his finger conspiratorially. Brad glanced at Lisa, who smiled, patted his hand and offered to watch the children.
‘We won’t be long,’ Dawn promised, as she led Brad away from the table, around the corner towards the front entrance.
‘Have you got any news?’
‘Nothing yet. The forensic team will be on scene by now. We should know more soon, but do you know anyone who would want to hurt Ronnie?’
Brad’s eyes were wide, like Dawn had asked him to kill his firstborn child, but he smoothed his features quickly.
‘No one would want to hurt Veronica.’
Brad kept his eyes on his shoes.
‘No one? You’re sure about that?’
Dawn wanted to rattle him. Still, he wouldn’t look her in the eye.
He knows something.
It was time to push on about Fairweather’s alibi.
‘You said you were drinking with David Fairweather on Friday night—while Ronnie watched Abby. Are you sticking with your statement?’
Brad licked his lips and nodded.
Ryan took over, with a voice of pure doubt no one could mistake. ‘Are you sure mate?’
‘David wouldn’t do this.’
‘You know him that well, hey?’
Dawn let Ryan carry on. Brad was always a man’s man, looking up to whoever was the most popular guy in school. Ryan had an alpha streak Brad seemed to be responding to.
She could have gotten all upset about the chauvinism, but she learnt long ago that not every suspect, or even witness, responded to her interview technique. When she first started working as a detective, one of the station’s most decorated and respected detectives told her to play to her strengths and utilise the skills of those around her. She never forgot it.
‘Your wife is missing, mate. And we’ve got two dead young women.’
‘Two?’
Brad finally met Ryan’s piercing gaze. Dawn could see the cogs turning as panic set in.
‘Who?’
‘We have reason to believe this latest victim was murdered by the same person who killed Tracey Warren back in ninety-five.’
‘And David Fairweather is a prime suspect in both murders.’
Dawn couldn’t help herself. She needed to make Brad aware of exactly what Fairweather was capable of.
‘No way. David is a good bloke. Top sportsman. Great teacher.’
‘Would you say that if he molested your daughter?’
‘What the hell?’
‘Careful Grave,’ Ryan warned.
‘Look, we have strong evidence to suggest David Fairweather has been abusing young women. And we can link him to both Tracey and Jessica.’
It wasn’t entirely true. So far, Tracey’s involvement with Fairweather was only hearsay, and Dawn was the only one alive to back that up. And there was no physical evidence to support Jessica having an affair with him. No phone calls.
Phone calls.
They needed Jessica’s phone records. They’d requested them days ago.
‘No way. It’s just girls idolising him. He’s a champion swimmer.’
Something in the way Brad spoke made Dawn think he was reciting David word for word.
‘He’s told you that?’
Brad pressed his lips together.
‘Brad, if you’re covering for Fairweather, and he turns out to be our killer, you are going away as an accessory to murder. Do you understand what that means?’
Ryan waited. Brad said nothing, his eyes back on the ground.
‘No access to your kids.’
‘David would never hurt Veronica.’
‘Even if she knew you didn’t have drinks with him on Friday night? Even if he thought she might tell her old friend Detective Grave here?’
Ryan pointed to Dawn. Brad’s eyes followed his finger.
‘Alright. Alright!’
‘Was David Fairweather with you Friday night?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know where he was?’
Brad glanced from Dawn to Ryan and back. His shoulders sagged.
‘He’s been cheating on his wife for years. That’s why she left him. But not with under-age girls.’
‘You know that for a fact?’ Dawn met his gaze, eyes blazing. She knew Fairweather slept with her own sister, but she also knew he liked young girls.
‘Do you know who the woman was he was with?’
Ryan drew his attention. Dawn’s heart pounded, forcing blood to rush loudly through her ears.
‘The school receptionist. What’s her name?’
‘Rhianna?’ Dawn was floored.
‘That’s her.’
‘How fortunate I’m heading to the school with Lisa shortly.’
‘What?’ Brad looked confused. ‘What for?’
‘That’s none of your concern.’
She turned to leave, Ryan a step behind, but he caught up quickly.
‘Don’t expect me to babysit Abby,’ Ryan groaned, but something about the protest seemed forced.
‘Wouldn’t dream of it. Michael’s coming over.’
‘Of course he is.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing.’