The day of the funeral dawned bright and sunny—a beautiful, clear summer’s day. Dani rolled over in bed and squinted at the light that shone through the window. It had been late when she’d finally collapsed into bed and she’d forgotten to close the curtains. Sunshine now spilled into the room and across the pale carpet, like a ribbon of gold. Groaning aloud, Dani drew the sheet up over her face and tried hard to pretend this day wasn’t happening.
It had been well after midnight when she’d finally left Franklin’s condominium—yes, it was just Franklin’s, now—and had made her way back to North Sydney. The familiar sound of late night traffic outside her window had calmed her, along with the camomile tea, but still, it had been a long time before she’d succumbed to sleep.
The bodies of her sister and niece had been removed by the time she’d reached their Hunters Hill condominium, but still, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to enter the rooms where they’d been found. Franklin had told her, in halting sentences, that Sabrina had been murdered in the bath. It appeared poor baby Marnie had been sleeping in her crib.
Even now, with the morning sun urging her upright, Dani still couldn’t accept the truth. Someone had murdered her beautiful, sweet-natured sister and an innocent baby. Who could have done that? The world had been turned on its axis. Nothing made sense.
Then again, Franklin was a well-known lawyer who’d recently taken on a very high-profile case. She’d seen the crowds of angry protesters outside the courthouse on the early morning news the day of the murders. They’d been shouting and holding placards. Some had been protesting against Jamal Al-Jabiri’s charges, but most had been angry he hadn’t already been found guilty and locked up for the rest of his life.
At the time, she’d shuddered at the implacable fury on the faces of the demonstrators in both camps and had wondered why the hell Franklin had found it necessary to take on such a case. Still, this was Australia. Though the demonstrators’ anger had unsettled her, she never dreamed it might result in the murders of her little sister and baby niece.
She sighed heavily. No amount of time lingering beneath the covers would make the next few hours disappear. With reluctance, she pushed back the sheets and climbed out of bed. Padding into the bathroom, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and grimaced. Her long curly hair stood out in every direction, a tangle of snarls and knots. She’d been too tired to run a brush through it before bed the night before and now she was paying the price. There was nothing for it but to tame the wild mass with water.
Reaching into the shower, she turned the spray on full force. Stepping under the steaming water, she took the time to shampoo and condition her hair. It was the day of her sister’s funeral, along with her little niece’s. She was determined to look her best, if it killed her.
It had been five long days since the detective had attended upon her workplace and given her the terrible news. Sabrina and Marnie had required autopsies and that necessity had added to the delay. The whole sad ordeal had been drawn out.
She’d been numb with grief ever since she’d been told what happened, but burying her loved ones was another something that had to be done. It wasn’t easy on any of them, but she’d been frustrated at Franklin’s unwillingness to make the arrangements. It was almost as if the deaths of his wife and baby had placed him in a catatonic state. He hadn’t left the condominium since it happened. It had been up to Dani to meet with the funeral director, choose the caskets, the flowers, and arrange the service, even the hymns.
She hadn’t wanted to do it, but there was no one else. Franklin was an only child. His parents were both deceased. Dani was the sole surviving sibling and though she assumed her parents were still alive, she didn’t know for certain and she sure as hell wasn’t going to waste time finding out. They’d made their choices years ago, effectively abandoning their daughters to fate and the random kindness of strangers. They didn’t deserve the honor of saying good-bye.
With a sigh, Dani turned off the faucets and wrung the water from her hair. Stepping out of the shower, she reached for a towel. She wrapped a fluffy one around her body and twisted another around her hair before returning to her bedroom.
She surveyed the contents of her meagre wardrobe. She’d never been one for fashionable clothes. Sabrina had owned a stylish outfit for every occasion, but Dani spent most of her time in a lab coat and her weekends at her sister’s. There just didn’t seem the need for an extensive wardrobe.
Her chest tightened with emotion at the thought she’d never spend an evening or a weekend with Sabrina again. Tears sprang to her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She swiped at them a little impatiently, wondering when they were ever going to stop. And then she was tired of being strong and she bent over with a wrenching sob.
Making her way unsteadily to her bed, she sank down onto it and leaned over with her head in her hands. There were hours and days ahead where she’d have to be strong. Right now, she needed to cry.
The sobs rose up from deep inside her and poured out through her mouth. She gasped and heaved and mourned the loss of her beautiful sister and her innocent baby niece. The anger and frustration at not knowing who was behind this only made the whole thing worse. She didn’t even have a name or face to lay the blame.
She hadn’t heard anything from the police and she didn’t think Franklin had either. Not that he was in any position to carry on a conversation, but he hadn’t mentioned progress on that front.
Another surge of anger at the injustice of it all rushed through her and she clung to the strength it gave her. Anger was good. Anger was productive. Anger would see her through.
* * *
Jett hung back from the crowd of funeral-goers, content to listen and observe. A gaggle of reporters with television cameras stood off to one side. He guessed it was Franklin Cook’s high profile that had drawn them and the fact his wife and daughter had been brutally slain. It wasn’t surprising that the story had already made headlines and had been the lead story on the six o’clock news.
Jett was there as an observer, keen to know who was interested enough to attend the funeral of Sabrina Cook and her daughter. Beside him, Lane also scanned the crowd. His experience with the middle-eastern activists would hold them in good stead.
“Look over to your left,” Lane murmured, his lips barely moving. “The man with the black beard standing near the gum tree. That’s Mohammed Abdul Sharif.”
Jett looked in the direction Lane mentioned and spied a middle-aged man wearing black-rimmed glasses dressed in loose white pants and a matching, long-sleeved tunic that fell below his knees. Around his head, he wore a black Keffiyeh wrapped in the traditional Islamic style. He stood with three other men, similarly attired.
“Who’s Mohammed Abdul Sharif?” Jett asked.
“He’s the self-proclaimed leader of one of Australia’s largest Islamic communities. He has a lot of influence among his followers.”
“Is he an extremist?” Jett asked, pitching his voice low in deference to the other funeral-goers standing nearby.
“No, in fact, just the opposite. He does all that he can to talk in terms of peace and respect for religious and cultural differences, love and getting along with each other.”
“What’s he doing here?”
Lane shrugged. “Paying his respects? Perhaps he’s keeping an eye on things. There are some people within his community who are getting a little fed up with all the talk about peace, especially with one of their own, a teenager, no less, currently warming his butt in jail.”
Jett acknowledged Lane’s comment with a nod and continued to scan the crowd. A shiny black limousine pulled up at the curb and the reporters and photographers swarmed forward. The car door opened and Franklin Cook stepped out, followed by his sister-in-law.
The air was filled with the sound of clicking cameras. One or two photographers even had the audacity to call out, hoping to get a better shot. Danielle was dressed in a simple black sheath that skimmed the curves of her body. Her long, slim legs appeared even longer because she wore a pair of five-inch heels. Dark sunglasses hid her gaze from his view, but her mouth was compressed into a tight line. Despite his training and the importance of remaining impartial, Jett’s heart went out to her.
Her brother-in-law offered his arm and Jett noted she took it without hesitation.
“It doesn’t look like she’s harboring any blame,” Lane murmured.
Jett watched as the two of them walked slowly into the church, heads bowed low in grief. They looked neither left, nor right.
“Yeah,” he replied quietly, “though it’s interesting. Danielle Porter told me Sabrina and Franklin never argued and yet a couple of weeks before her death, he accused her of being unfaithful.”
Lane’s eyebrows rose and his forehead lined with creases. “Wow, that’s one helluva way to trigger an argument. What happened?”
“Franklin demanded a paternity test. The results were due about the same time she and her daughter were murdered.”
Lane frowned and his voice sharpened. “And why are you only just now sharing this information?”
Jett held his gaze. “Danielle also said the accusation was groundless. Sabrina had assured her the results would prove Franklin was Marnie’s dad. I’ll follow it up with him after the service. It should be easy enough for him to clear the matter up, one way or the other.”
“Given that all other lines of enquiry so far have drawn a blank, we need to investigate every possible clue,” Lane replied.
“Yeah,” Jett agreed. “But I’m not sure it’s going to lead anywhere.”
Lane let out a sigh filled with frustration. “It doesn’t seem to matter where we look, we keep running into brick walls. I interviewed some members of the Islamic community. They’d heard of the murders, but they had nothing to impart that would implicate anyone. That poor woman and her child have been dead almost a week and we’re not even close to finding the killer.”
“Yeah, I went by Kevin Thompson’s apartment Tuesday afternoon and again, yesterday morning. Same story. His sister hasn’t seen him since the morning of the murders.”
Lane nodded, his expression grim. “At this stage, the maintenance man’s our best bet and he’s not doing himself any favors. What’s he hiding from?”
“I’ll run his name through the system when I get back to the office and see what I can find,” Jett offered. “I’ll also check if he has a vehicle registered in his name.”
“Good. In the meantime, I look forward to hearing about the paternity results.”
“Yep. I’ll let you know as soon as I talk to Cook. I’m not holding out much hope it’s going to move things forward, but it’s worth following up.”
Lane acknowledged Jett’s comment with a brief nod. “I guess that’s it. There’s no point in both of us hanging around. I’ll see you back there.” With a wave, he disappeared into the crowd.
Forty-five minutes later, Jett followed the funeral procession as it snaked its way to the Macquarie Park Cemetery and Crematorium. Unlike the swarm of media, he kept a respectful distance as the final hymns were played from an iPod and a Bluetooth speaker and the caskets were lowered into the ground. One was made of dark cedar and was liberally embellished with shiny brass fittings. The second coffin was small and white and lacy. Jett’s gut tightened at the sight. It was decorated with bright, yellow-button daisies and soft green ferns. A pink teddy bear sat on top of the flowers.
Finally the crowd thinned until only Franklin and Danielle remained. Sabrina’s husband sat in the cheap plastic chairs provided for the family by the funeral home. Danielle kneeled by the gravesite and stared at the hole in the ground.
Jett moved closer and could see her lips moving silently. He wasn’t sure if she was praying or bidding the occupants a final farewell. He felt uncomfortable interrupting either scenario, but he still sought some answers and in a homicide investigation, there was never a good time to ask.
“Mr Cook, Ms Porter. Please accept my condolences,” he said quietly, gazing from one to the other.
Danielle stood a little awkwardly and inclined her head, but didn’t speak. Her hair was pulled back into an uncompromising bun. Her face was drawn and wan. Without the protection of her sunglasses, he could see her eyes were red and swollen and glazed with pain. In contrast, Franklin Cook looked stoic. He regarded Jett with a frown.
“Detective Craigdon,” he said, his voice toneless. “Thank you for coming.”
Jett inclined his head. “I… I’d like to ask you both a couple of more questions.”
Franklin’s frown deepened. “Now?”
“Yes. I understand this is a difficult time, but we’re working around the clock on this and so far, we have very few leads.” He flashed another look at Danielle and then returned his attention to Cook. “I wanted to ask you about the DNA test. The one you requested not long before this happened.”
From the corner of Jett’s eye, he saw Danielle stand and fold her arms across her chest, but he kept his gaze on Franklin, watching closely to gauge his reaction. The man’s expression didn’t alter. He certainly didn’t appear surprised by the question.
“What is it you want to know, Detective?” he asked in the same toneless voice, as if nothing and nobody mattered anymore. And perhaps that was true…
“Have you received the results?” he asked.
Franklin nodded wearily. “They came in the mail the day…the day this happened. I received them at work. I have all of our mail delivered to my office. It’s more secure that way.”
“And what did they say?” Jett persisted, feeling churlish that he had to ask, but wanting to put this line of questioning to rest.
Danielle Porter’s eyes blazed with fury. She pushed herself into Jett’s space. “What the hell do you think they said? My sister was good and kind and honorable. She didn’t have a deceitful bone in her body. Of course Marnie belonged to Franklin!”
Jett studied her closely and tried not to be moved by her fierce beauty. Her breath came fast and her chest rose and fell, drawing her generous proportions to his attention. With a sound of self-disgust coming from the back of his throat, Jett forced his attention elsewhere. Once again, Franklin bent forward and held his head in his hands.
“The truth is, Detective,” Franklin said, his words muffled behind his hands, “I haven’t even opened the results. I should never have requested proof in the first place. I knew when I demanded it, that it wasn’t right. My wife would never be unfaithful. But it was like, once it was out there, I couldn’t take it back. It seemed easier to go ahead with it than call it off.”
He lifted his head and gazed at Jett, his eyes now filled with pain. “I never got to tell her I was sorry. She died before I got the chance. How will I forgive myself? She died thinking I believed she’d been unfaithful. She died uncertain of my love. It’s wrong! So wrong! I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I can do and it’s killing me!”
His words were drowned out by noisy sobs as, once again, he held his head in his hands. Danielle looked stricken. Seating herself beside him, she put an arm around his shoulders and offered him murmured words of comfort.
“Shh, Franklin, it’s all right. And don’t be upset. Sabrina knew how much you loved her. She knew. She told me about the roses. She knew you hadn’t meant what you’d said. She understood you were tired and stressed and those words had come out without thought or premeditation.”
Franklin lifted his head and stared at his sister-in-law, his eyes wide with surprise. “She… She told you about the roses?”
Danielle held his gaze. It was like Jett was no longer there. “Yes, she told me and she knew exactly what they meant. She told me it was your way of apologizing for your behavior. So please, stop crying. Let’s remember her and Marnie, the way they were, full of sunshine and love. They deserve nothing less.”
Jett stared at Danielle with admiration. She’d just lost her niece and sister in the most horrific way. She was standing mere feet from their grave and yet, despite her obvious pain and loss, she cared enough about her brother-in-law to comfort him and ease him through his grief. Jett’s certainty that she wasn’t involved in the deaths was strengthened, but he still had one more question. He cleared his throat to get her attention.
“Ms Porter, I read through some of the text messages on your sister’s phone. I noticed you two seemed to be arguing over something a week before her death. Can you tell me about that?”
She turned her head and glared at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He’d taken a screenshot of the messages.
“This might refresh your memory,” he said and handed her his cell.
She looked down at the screen and scanned its contents. A frown creased the smooth skin of her forehead. A moment later, it cleared and a hint of embarrassment colored her cheeks.
“Okay, I guess you could call this an argument, but it was nothing. A disagreement, that’s all.”
Jett eyed her curiously. “What were you disagreeing about?”
The color in her cheeks deepened and she kept her gaze fixed to the ground. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Detective. It was nothing.”
He regarded her steadily. “I think I need to be the judge of that.”
She drew in a deep breath and then let it out on a sigh. “Sabrina was trying to find me a boyfriend. A few times she’d tried to set me up with men from Franklin’s work. She wouldn’t believe me when I told her I wasn’t interested.” She threw her head back and stared at him, a look of challenge in her eyes.
He stared back at her, refusing to acknowledge the leap in his pulse when she revealed she was single.
“All right,” he finally replied, giving her a nod.
“Will that be all, Detective?” she asked pointedly.
“For now.” He looked at Franklin. “I’d like a copy of those paternity tests, if you don’t mind.”
Franklin barely acknowledged his request. His gaze remained fixed on the grave. Jett felt a wave of sympathy.
“Thank you for your time, Mr Cook, Ms Porter,” he said quietly. “And once again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Just find the bastard who did this to my family,” Franklin urged, his voice rough and unsteady.
Jett compressed his lips and nodded, feeling the full weight of their joint stares. He was responsible for finding the killer. In silence, he vowed not to rest until that was done.