Bitter Nothings (22 page)

When the door didn’t open, she breathed out, but her heart continued to race. She needed air. After leaving messages with the officer on the front desk for Alana and Todd to call her, she headed out onto the street.

Grey cloud shrouded the city, the atmosphere sticky as a cold sweat. A group of teenage girls larked about outside a clothing discounter. A plump woman laden with shopping bags skirted around them.

With no destination in mind, Dervla turned right, away from the police station and the giggling teenagers. She stuck close to the curb, striding past pedestrians in no hurry to go anywhere.

Her step faltered. Ahead of her on the other side of the street, waiting to cross at the lights, were Sophie and Nathan. Dressed in the same dark clothes they’d worn to the funeral, they stood close but not touching. Sophie threw her head back, obviously laughing at something Nathan had said. Like a coward, Dervla ducked behind a lamp post, sucking in short breaths. She tasted bile. What the hell was wrong with her?

The lights changed. Steeling herself, she waited a second and then stepped out into the footpath. Pedestrians mowing her down was the least of her worries. She stood her ground and the crowd parted.

Sophie spotted her first, her eyes widening. When she fell half a step behind Nathan, he looked up.

His face broke into a grin. He reached back for Sophie’s hand, tugging her forward. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes, fancy that,” Dervla said.

Sophie wrested her hand from Nathan’s grip. “It’s not what—”

“Just off for a few stiff ones,” he said. “It’s been one of those days. Care to join us?”

Dervla clenched her hands. “No, thank you,” she said, her tone measured. “In case you haven’t noticed, my family is having
one of those days
, too.”

At least he had the decency to lower his gaze. “Yeah, sorry.”

“I looked for you after the funeral, hon, but you’d disappeared,” Sophie said, as if trying to excuse her behavior. “I thought you’d be with your family.”

“I’ve been with Alana at the police station. She’s being interviewed. Her lawyer’s with her now.”

Sophie frowned. “Is she a suspect?”

“It’s routine. They need to rule her out of the investigation.”

“If it’s only routine, couldn’t it have waited?”

“Apparently not.” Dervla sighed. “But then we all know how hard it is to pin down those two at the best of times. I guess the police can’t afford to take any chances.”

“But what if it’s more than that? What if…”

“Don’t even go there.”

“Just saying,” Sophie said.

“Well, don’t,” Dervla said. “Enjoy your drink. I have to go.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Don’t bother.” She took a step and stopped. “Look, I really don’t give a damn what you two do or don’t do. You’re both consenting adults. Just don’t involve me in your games.”

Her stomach churned. Not waiting for a response and resisting the urge to look over her shoulder, she strode off. Whom was she kidding?

By the time she pushed through the police station doors, she was out of breath and on the verge of tears. Bloody stupid emotions. Seeing Alana and the lawyer at the counter, however, rid her of all thoughts of self-pity.

“What’s happening?”

“Just a bit of paperwork,” the lawyer said, “and your sister is free to go.”

Alana gnawed at her bottom lip, her dark eyes soulless.

“That’s great,” Dervla said to her. “See, I told you. Nothing to it.”

The lawyer arched an eyebrow. “That’s not quite how I would’ve put it. It’s more that the police can only keep a person in custody for a reasonable time before they charge them.”

“Which I’m sure they would’ve done if they’d had just cause,” Dervla said.

“Police investigations are ongoing.”

CHAPTER 32

Dusk cloaked the weatherboard house in hazy shadows. No light shone in the windows. The white Toyota Corona was parked in a different spot next to the side fence. Dervla switched off her car’s ignition and turned to her backseat passengers. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay with me or Emmet for a bit? It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“We can look after ourselves,” Toxic said, unbuckling his seat belt.

“It’s not that.”

Alana wrestled with the door handle. “You reckon we’re going to run off as soon as your back’s turned, don’t ya?”

“No,” Dervla said, though the thought had crossed her mind. “You gave the police your word you wouldn’t. I was hoping…”

“What?” Alana gave a scornful laugh, one foot already out of the car. “That after all this time we could play happy families?”

Dervla restarted the car. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” It’d been a long day. She had neither the energy nor the want to persevere.

Car doors slammed behind her. She waited until Alana and Toxic were inside the house before driving off.

Stopped at the first set of traffic lights, she wound down her window. Cold air rushed in, bringing with it the smell of wet tarmac. She switched on the radio. Talkback. She scanned through the stations, turning the radio off again when nothing grabbed her.

She drove in silence, the darkness inside the car strangely comforting. For a while, she focused on nothing more than the stream of traffic in front and either side of her.

Then Harry crept into her thoughts. Though he had no reason to do so, she’d half-expected – hoped – he might show up at her father’s funeral. If only for answers. What’d happened to cause him to up and leave without a word? More importantly, why hadn’t he contacted her since? Was he avoiding her? Was it something she’d said or done? Something someone else had said or done?

Nathan’s grinning face popped into her head. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. She wouldn’t put anything past her smarmy ex. But to what end? She’d made it quite clear that there’d be no rekindling of their relationship. Not even if he were the last man alive. Was it possible that in a fit of pique he’d orchestrated Harry’s disappearance? She sighed. Despite Nathan’s shortcomings, he wasn’t a vindictive man. Life for him was too short for grudges.

The Yarra Boulevard exit sign appeared overhead. Checking her side and rear-view mirrors, she flicked on the left indicator. Almost home.

Her thoughts turned to her father’s mystery lover. For all Dervla knew, the flame-haired woman may have been at the funeral. Dervla’s last text message had gone unanswered. In all good conscience, she knew she couldn’t keep the phone’s existence from the police for much longer. Not unless she wanted to face an obstruction charge.

At the next set of traffic lights, she phoned John Bailey.

“Good turn out,” he said, when she answered. “Your father was obviously a popular man.”

The lights changed. “You were there?”

“Of course.”

“See anyone of interest?”

“Like the killer you mean?”

“Sorry?” A car cut in front of her. She slammed on her brakes. “Shit.”

“Don’t you watch TV? The police always attend the victim’s funeral in the hope the killer will show up.”

“That’s TV, not real life,” she said, her pulse still up in the stratosphere. “Besides, if that were the case, I doubt they’d advertise the fact with uniformed officers.”

“So why the police presence?”

“Imagine the media circus if they hadn’t been there.”

Bailey harrumphed.

“Present company excluded, of course,” she added.

“Enough of the pleasantries. What can I do for you, Dervla?”

“I need a mobile phone number traced. Can you help?”

“Maybe.”

“Hang on a sec. I need to pull over. The number’s in my bag.” She hung a left at the next side street and grabbed the first available park.

Leaving the engine idling, she switched on the interior light and delved in her handbag for the mobile phone. “Are you still there?”

“Ready and waiting.”

She reeled off the phone number to him.

“Got it, but you’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t act the innocent with me,” he said. “Why? What? When? Where?”

She groaned inwardly, ‘too easy’ springing to mind. “I’ll tell you everything – I swear – but right now I’m that shattered, I doubt I could string the words together.”

“Fine, but until you do, I keep anything I find out to myself.”

“Understood.”

“Leave it with me. No promises, though.”

“Thank you.” The favors were racking up. She only hoped he didn’t call them in all at once.

When she hung up, she noticed two missed calls: one from Gabe, the other from a private number. One message. Home first.

A few minutes later, she pulled into her driveway, the house in darkness. Before she’d shut off the engine, another vehicle drove in behind her. The glare from its headlights momentarily blinded her. Blinking, she fumbled with the rear-view mirror, tilting it up, and made out a taxi sign. She heard voices, then a car door slam. The taxi reversed onto the street and drove off, leaving behind its passenger.

Dervla climbed out, stood in the light from the open car door, and waited for Sophie to reach her.

“I’m so glad I found you,” Sophie said, a trace of a slur in her voice.

“Why?”

“I wanted to explain.”

Dervla shut her car door, plunging them into darkness. “Explain what?”

“You know? Before.”

“None of my business.” Dervla’s keys cut into her palm.

“It was just a drink.”

“As I said, none of my business.” Needing to escape the night chill, she started for the front door.

“Are you going to invite me in?” Sophie called.

“I can’t exactly leave you standing out there, can I?”

“That’d depend on how pissed off you are with me.”

“I’m not pissed off, just exhausted. It’s been a shit of a day.” She unlocked the door and flicked on the light switch. “Close the door behind you.”

She detoured to her bedroom and stripped to her bra and knickers, shedding a layer of gloom along with her clothing. With a longing glance at the shower, she unhooked the fleecy robe from behind the bathroom door. Sophie awaited.

Her friend was in the kitchen trying, but failing, to slot the espresso machine’s portafilter into position.

“Here, let me,” Dervla said, taking over.

Sophie slouched against the bench. “Honest, there’s nothing going on between Nathan and me.”

“I hope he knows that.” The espresso machine hissed into life.

“He does.”

“Good.”

Sophie’s mouth stretched in a slow smile. “Admit it, hon. You still have feelings for the man.”

“No,” Dervla said, with more force than she intended. “It’s not that at all. I was thinking more about what would happen if Martin caught you two in bed together.”

The smile faded. “That’s not going to happen.”

Dervla’s mobile rang. She answered it without checking the caller ID, her focus more on the filling coffee cups.

“Don’t you check your messages?” Gabe’s voice sounded strained.

“Why? Has something happened?” She turned the espresso switch to off.

“Police have recovered a bloodstained sports towel believed to be Dad’s.”

Dervla’s chest constricted. “
Believed
to be Dad’s?”

“His initials are on the label and it looks like the one he used at the gym. DNA tests will confirm it.” He cleared his throat. “There’s something else.”

She tensed. “What?”

“The police have Emmet in custody. The towel was found in his car.”

CHAPTER 33

After a sleepless night, Dervla left home still none the wiser to what was going on. The bloodstained towel was a mistake. It had to be. Emmet wasn’t capable of such horror. She planted her foot, speeding through the almost deserted Sunday dawn streets. Gabe’s assurances, that all that could be done was being done, were small comfort.

She made it to the police station in record time, parking on the street outside. Around her, the city slept, a few nightclub stragglers the only evidence of life. Psyching herself up, she took a deep breath and marched into the foyer.

A male officer behind the front desk glanced up, then back down at what he was writing, only looking back up again as she approached.

“Morning.” He put down his pen. “How can I help you?”

“I understand you’re holding my brother, Emmet Johns. I’d like to see him please.”

He tapped out something on a keyboard. “That can possibly be arranged, but I’ll need to check first.”

“How long will that take?” Her voice quavered.

He consulted his computer screen. “DSS Gleeson is the detective in charge. He’s not due in until later, but if you give me your details, I’ll see what I can do. Do you have any photo identification on you?”

She extracted her driver’s license from her wallet and passed it over.

“It may be a while,” he said, after noting her particulars. “I can have someone call you.”

“I’ll wait, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

A corner seat offered both a view of the door and a wall to lean against. She needed all the support she could get. As it was, her eyes felt as if they were halfway down her cheeks.

She used up a few minutes staring out the window, then called her elder brother.

“Gabe Johns,” he answered, his voice thick with sleep.

“Why aren’t you down here?”

“Dervla? Where are you?”

“Waiting to see Emmet,” she said, loudly enough for the officer on the front desk to hear.

“Come again.”

“I’m at the police station waiting to see our brother. Where are you?”

He groaned. “Some of us need our sleep.”

“At a time like this?”

“Dervla, there’s nothing either one of us can do right now.” He yawned. “Nothing anyone can do until after his bail application is heard at least.”

Her pulse quickened. “Do they give bail to murder suspects? What time’s the hearing?”

“It’s not until tomorrow,” he said, ignoring her first question. “The courts are closed on the weekend.”

“And do you think he’ll get bail?”

A pause, then, “The lawyer I employed has a reputation as one of Melbourne’s top criminal defense barristers.”