After Jill had left Rimis’s office she spent the rest of the day catching up on the paperwork that had accumulated in her pigeonhole. She was burying herself in routine, trying not to think too much about Robbie or about Rimis and how pissed off she was with him. He was a fine one to give her a lecture on knowing when to quit. Had he forgotten the part he played in the Taggart case? Rimis was the only person who’d believed Kevin Taggart was a serial killer and it hadn’t been for his perseverance, Taggart would be still walking the streets a free man.
Jill looked at the time on her phone and started the shutdown process on her computer. Five more minutes and her shift would be over.
She stood up and looked across the cubicle divider to Luke Rawlings’s workstation in time to catch him logging off from his Facebook page.
‘How’s, Lucy Fletcher, the girl who was run down in Smith Street?’ Jill asked.
‘The doctors don’t expect her to pull through.’ Luke straightened his shoulders and ran his hands through his thick hair. A habit born from vanity. Luke was the snappiest dresser in the office. More Armani than Kelly Country. When Jill looked into his eyes she saw no compassion for the girl.
Luke had been in the graduating class ahead of her at the Academy and although they were both the same rank, it was clear he considered himself her senior. ‘Looks as if it was more than a hit and run. The girl had rope burns on her wrists and ankles and bruising to her face and head. A set of skid marks was found on the road next to where she was found. Accident investigators from AIS are over there now carrying out a tyre mark analysis.’
Jill leaned on the partition and considered what Luke had said. ‘So, she could have been running away from someone or something when she was hit by the car?’
‘There’s a good chance she was.’ Luke leaned back on his chair and put his hands behind his head.
‘Any witnesses?’ Jill asked.
‘An old couple on their way home from a night out. They live in Hercules Street, not far from where it happened.’
Jill reached over and pulled a map of the local government area for Chatswood off her partition and walked around to Luke’s workstation. She picked up a green highlighter pen from his desk and pulled the cap off with her teeth.
‘What are you doing?’ Luke leaned forward and looked at the map.
‘The old couple were on their way to their house in Hercules Street, you said?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And Lucy Fletcher. She was knocked over in Smith Street just around the corner from Douglas Avenue where David Cheung’s body was found in the boot of his car.’ Jill leaned over the map and ran the highlighter pen through the street names.
Rawlings looked at the scale. The streets are all within a six to eight kilometre radius of each other.
‘What’s with all the questions? It’s not your case.’
Jill straightened up, looked at Rawlings. ‘The boss wants me to work with you on it. It could be tied up with this Asian gang business.’
‘He didn’t say anything to me about it.’
‘Don’t be precious, Luke. I thought you’d be glad of the help.’
Rawlings grunted. Jill leaned over and looked back at the map. ‘I wonder what the girl was doing in Smith Street? It’s a pretty isolated part of Chatswood at that time of night. And what are the odds of her being run over at almost the same time as someone was stuffing David Cheung’s body into the boot of his car?’
‘It could be a coincidence.’ Rawlings scratched his head, leaned over and looked at the map again.
‘I don’t believe in coincidences,’ Jill said. She tapped the highlighter on her teeth. ‘What did the old couple tell you? Did they get a plate?’
‘They said the vehicle didn’t have its headlights on and swerved a couple of times before it took off. It was too dark for them to see the license plate but they said they thought they saw something on the side of the road when they drove past, but they weren’t sure. They thought it might have been a dog, but rang triple zero when they got home just in case.’
Jill replaced the lid on the highlighter.
‘Now can I get back to eating my dinner?’
Jill looked down at the plastic container on Luke’s desk. ‘For God’s sake, Luke what is that?’
‘Kung Po Chicken.’ Rawlings took a mouthful. ‘It tastes better than it looks.’
Jill hoisted her backpack over her shoulder.
‘Off to the gym?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, signed up at Crunch Fitness a week ago for that class you suggested. I probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow; the instructor looks like he doesn’t take prisoners.’
‘Good luck.’
Jill smiled. ‘I just might need it.’
Fifteen minutes later Jill walked into the gym class and immediately recognised the instructor she’d spoken to the previous week. He was broad-shouldered, powerful looking, with bleached blonde hair tied back in a short ponytail. Beneath the tattoos his arms were sinewy with muscle.
Jill had enrolled in the Warrior Class, a combination of heart-pumping cardio and intense strength training. With all that had happened during the past few days, the last thing she felt like was going to the gym but she’d paid for the class up front. Besides, the workout might help her burn off steam. She hoped the kick boxing class she’d been going to would hold her in good stead.
The room was filling up fast. Jill began with some stretches. She had one arm extended in the air when she saw him out of the corner of her eye. Rimis.
‘I’m going to kill you, Luke bloody Rawlings,’ she mumbled under her breath. He’d set her up. He must have known Rimis took this class. It occurred to her that she might still be able to slip away without being noticed, but it was too late. Nick Rimis was headed straight for her. A smile spread across his face as he approached her. He didn’t miss a beat.
‘Didn’t know you were a member of the gym, Brennan.’
‘I usually go to a kick boxing class closer to home.’
‘Well, good to see you’re taking your fitness seriously.’
Jill blushed, felt Rimis’s eyes on her. She adjusted the waistline of her pink Lycra shorts, flicked her bra strap with a finger and moved to the back of the class. There was no way Nick Rimis was standing behind her, staring at her backside for the next forty-five minutes.
Fifteen minutes into the training, the instructor told them to grab a medicine ball and a partner. Before Jill had a chance to team up with someone Rimis was standing in front of her with a heavy, brown leather ball in his hands and a stupid grin on his face. He was enjoying this. She rearranged her pout to a smile. There was no sense blaming Rimis, it wasn’t his idea, it had been Luke Rawlings’s suggestion that she come to this gym and this particular class. Nick Rimis. He was more than her boss, he was a friend and despite his gruff exterior she had sensed on more than one occasion he had feelings for her that went beyond the welfare of a colleague.
When Jill arrived home to her empty apartment around eight o’clock she did her normal ritual of checking all the rooms before she took a shower. Luke Rawlings. He would have thought it was a great joke sending her off to the same gym class as Rimis. She didn’t even know Rimis went to the gym. He’d been on a health kick a while back, but it hadn’t lasted. Jill knew with the long hours, the erratic shifts and the effort it took to cook proper meals, it wasn’t always easy to keep in shape. After the gym class, Rimis had asked if she wanted to go with him for something to eat but she’d said no and opted for take-away instead.
She put the container of Mongolian Lamb and fried rice she’d picked up on her way home into the microwave. While she waited for it to heat up, she poured herself a glass of Pinot Grigio. The dish was enough for two. It was like the take-away restaurants liked to rub in someone’s single status. Everything was made for couples. Including the bottle of wine sitting on the kitchen counter.
She finished her glass of wine in three gulps, leaned her hip against the counter. Kevin Taggart. He was always in the background. The case had changed everything. The relationship with Nick Rimis had shifted from boss to friend. After Taggart had attacked her he’d sat by her bedside all night at the hospital. Then she thought of William Phillips. She wondered where he was now. The last she’d heard from him, he’d resigned from his job in a city law firm and had headed north with a surfboard attached to the roof racks of his Beemer. Did he ever think of her? She sighed. She’d thought they’d had something special until the night Taggart came to her apartment and ruined it all. When she was recovering in the hospital William had told her he couldn’t handle knowing every day she went to work, she might not come home. Perhaps her no-dating-cops policy was flawed. Maybe, she should face facts. The majority of men she met were cops and they were certainly more likely to understand the job than any other guy.
She looked at the bottle of wine in front of her and poured herself another drink.