Challis - 04 - Chain of Evidence (16 page)

Yes.

Gavin running out on her like that.

Yeah, said Minchin flatly.

Rob, said Challis after a
considering pause, without breaching patient confidentiality, what sort of
state was he in before he disappeared?

You asked me that at the time.

I didnt take it in.

Minchin leaned forward across the
kitchen table, dropping his voice in case the old man was listening. Gavin was
veering from one extreme to the other. I prescribed medication to level him
out, but I dont know if he ever took it. He paused. He hit Meg a couple of
times, you know.

Challis nodded sagely, but he hadnt
known. Just then, Minchin slapped at his solid thigh, leaned to one side and
fetched a mobile phone from his side pocket. Minchin. Yep. Yep. Oh, Christ, be
right there.

He pocketed his phone again and
looked at Challis. Do you know Ted Anderson?

No.

Wife died of cancer five years ago,
leaving him with a baby to bring up. Hes gone off the Pass.

Gone off the Pass. Everyone knew
what that meant. Killed?

Minchin nodded. The kids okay, but
trapped in the car.

Youd better go, Rob.

Tell your old man Ill look in
again when I can.

Will do.

Small-town tragedies, Challis
thought, watching Minchin drive away. Next week it might be an ambulance
officer coming upon his own wife in a burning car. Last year five teenagers had
been killed when they failed to beat a train over a level crossing. When he was
growing up, a bride-to-be from the next town was killed on her way to her
wedding. As a young constable in Mawsons Bluff, hed attended when a
jack-knifing semi-trailer had wiped out a family of five. There was never an
end to it.

He was drawn back into the house by
the ringing of the phone. Hal?

Ells, he said.

And she told him about Katie Blasko.

* * * *

21

The
atmosphere crackled on Tuesday morning, affecting everyone in the Waterloo
police station, uniformed officers, detectives and civilian staff alike. It was
most evident at the briefing, the mood heightened and expectant as Ellen began
to talk. Ellen herself was fierce, dynamic, showing sorrow, disgust and anger.
Those seated close to her saw that her eyes were damp as she described the
house, the room, the small, abused body.

Then, unwinding, she got down to
business. As you can see, there are fewer of us today.

She didnt need to explain why. Word
always got around the station quickly. Now that Katie Blasko had been found
alive, Superintendent McQuarrie wanted those uniformed constables who had been
on the search detail back on regular duties, and was allowing Ellen only a
small team to investigate the abduction. Van Alphen and Kellock were not
obliged to attend, but had offered their services, arguing that they knew the
case and could allocate uniformed assistance from time to time.

Lets start with the house, she
said. Our man was taking a chance, using the shires emergency housing.

She looked around the room, inviting
reasons for that. It was van Alphen who answered. Those houses are sometimes
empty for days, weeks, he said. People move on without informing their social
workers, parole officers or the shire.

Youre saying that many people
could have known about that particular house, and that it would be empty for a
while?

Yes.

Scobie supplied another detail. I
spoke to the shire housing officer. Theres been a sudden increase in demand.
The order to clean De Soto Lane came in yesterday morning. Clearly our man wasnt
expecting that.

John Tankard stirred as if making a
vital point. Meaning he could come back.

Kellock smiled at him without much
humour. Unlikely. Have you seen the publicity? But Im sure we can roster you
to watch the place.

Senior Sergeant, Tankard muttered,
going red.

What scenario are we looking at
here? demanded Ellen. They keep her prisoner for a few days, dress her up in
school uniforms, frilly underwear, nighties, film each other having sex with
her, then let her go?

Or kill and dump her, Scobie said.

Ellen made a brief, bitter gesture. Meanwhile
the neighbours cant tell us a thing.

Shed examined the house last night
and again early that morning. It was well chosen, for there were no neighbours
to speak of. The builder erecting the market gardeners new house had recently
gone bankrupt and so no one had been working at the site. The few workers
employed in the timber yard and the market garden had seen nothing, owing to
trees, shrubbery and high fences. The elderly couple living in the little house
opposite were used to seeing cars come and go at 24 De Soto Lane, and had paid
no attention to recent activities there. So long as they arent noisy and arent
going to murder us in our beds, we leave them be, the old woman had told
Ellen.

But didnt they
think
about
what they were seeing? Scobie Sutton demanded now. Didnt they
hear
anything?

Because of his height, he sometimes
sprawled like an arrangement of twigs, but this morning he sat stiffly upright,
as if too distressed to concentrate. Ellen didnt want that. Scobie, take
Constable Tankard and question everyone again. Are there surveillance cameras
on the timber yard or the packing shed? Did the mailman deliver to the house
late last week and again yesterday? Track down anyone who bought timber or
fruit and vegetables in De Soto Lane over the past several daysgo back prior
to the day Katie was abducted. Did the old couple have visitors during the past
few days? All right?

Scobie stared at the coffee rings on
the incident room table. He gave a shuddering sigh.

Scobie!

He blinked and jerked. Yep. Sure.

Ellen saw Kellock and van Alphen
watching her appraisingly, the former built like a wrestler, the latter slender
and hawkish and surprisingly like Hal Challis. Then van Alphen dropped his
scrutiny, the narrow planes of his face relaxing into a slight, commiserative
smile. Forensics, Ellen?

She shook her head bleakly. Not as
much as Id hoped for. Weve got a handful of prints and partials, but most of
those will match people who have recently lived in the house, some of whom will
be in the system for a range of unrelated offencesmothers jailed for dealing,
kids for burglary, etcetera, etcetera. But all will have to be eliminated,
which will take time. On the other hand, the cleaners do a pretty good job
between tenants, and the last tenant, a battered wife, says she cleaned pretty
thoroughly after herself, so we might pick up fresh prints.

Only if our guy didnt wear gloves,
Kellock said.

True.

Van Alphen was watching her again
but not seeing her. What is it, Van?

He might have got careless.

How?

When hes finished with her, is he
going to kill her? Take her somewhere and release her? Either way, hes not
going to leave her in the house, is he?

Ellen nodded. Youre right. He knew
the house would be vacant. He knew he had a few days. Whether he released her
alive, or killed and dumped her, he would clean up after himself, with the
obvious benefit of the cleaners coming along afterwards and accounting for
anything he overlooked. It means he knew about the house and the emergency
housing scheme. It was bad luck for him that the cleaners came along sooner
than expected.

Yes.

An insider, someone who works for
the shire or social services, Ellen said. Scobie, can you look into that?

Yes.

Thank you. Now, forensics. We have
a blanket, towels, a mattress, a chain and manacle, a range of clothing. And
dog hairs.

Dog hairs, Kellock said, throwing
down his pen. Could have come from anywhere. She patted a dog on the way home
from school. A friend took a dog to school. The neighbours have a dog. Maybe its
cross contamination: the cleaners carried dog hair in on their clothing or
shoes. Can we get DNA? Do we have a dog to match it to? Dog hairs, he said in
disgust.

Look, Ellen said, I know were
all frustrated by this case. But we dont have much to go on, and the dog hairs
were found at the scene and have to be accounted for.

I heard there was blood, Sarge, John
Tankard said.

Yes, but it might all be from the
child.

Of course, they were hoping
otherwise. They were hoping their abductor had been scratched by Katie, or
suffered a nosebleed. If his DNA was in Crimtrac, the national database of DNA,
fingerprints, palm prints and paedophiles, then they could make an arrest and
move on. In the best-case scenario, Crimtrac would give them a specific name,
face and record, but Crimtrac was also proving itself helpful in solving cold
cases, where identities were unknown, for most crims were repeat offenders, and
most graduated from low-level to serious crimes. They cut themselves on glass
pulling a modest burglary, and years later found themselves arrested for
leaving DNA at a rape or murder scene. And Crimtrac was national, which helped
in a country where the population was highly mobile. Twenty per cent of
fingerprint inquiries lodged through Crimtrac led police to crimes committed
hundreds, even thousands of kilometres away.

Semen? said Scobie. A good
churchgoing man, it was a word he tiptoed around.

The techs ran a black light over the
whole house but didnt find any.

He used a condom.

Or washed everything. Bathed the
girl afterwards, van Alphen said. Ask her, Ellen.

Ellen winced. She was not looking
forward to that.

* * * *

22

Katie
Blasko had been taken to the Childrens Hospital in the city. Ellen waited
through the long morning. When the call came to say that Katie was well enough
to be interviewed, Ellen was in the CIU tearoom, rinsing her coffee mug and
trying to think of ways to further deface the sign that read: Dont expect
someone else to wash up after youyoure not at home now. She shook the water
off her hands, flipped open her mobile phone. Scobie, weve got the okay. Meet
you downstairs in five.

She encountered Kees van Alphen on
the stairs. Take me with you, he said.

Ellen shook her head. I need your
eyes on the records, Van. Sorry.

He scowled, stalked away, unaware of
Ellens real reason for not wanting him with her when she interviewed Katie
Blasko. Van Alphen was a prohibitive-looking man, and long estranged from his
wife and teenage daughter: quite simply, Ellen felt that he would frighten the
child.

She drove. Scobie Sutton could be an
appalling passenger, given to outlining the daily inanities of his home life,
but an even worse driver: slow, talkative and easily distracted. She was
prepared to ask him to shut up if he got started, but he rode in silence that
afternoon. Hes still shocked, she thought. Hes conflating Katie Blasko and
his daughter.

She headed along the old Peninsula
highway to Frankston, where the road widened, three lanes in and out, a ribbon
of black bisecting hectares of low brick houses with tiled roofs. Frankston is
Australia, she thought, with its modest, usually disappointed expectations and
achievements, its anxieties and conservatism. We admire rapist footballers, own
plasma TVs we cant afford, grow obese and vote to keep out strangers. Our
fifteen-year-olds get poor educations and move on to senseless crimes,
addiction, jail time or death behind the wheel of a stolen car, and if they
make it past fifteen they cant find work. A great, banal sameness defines us,
making us mostly soporific but nasty if cornered. Were vicious with
paedophiles, probably because we produce them. Ellen felt sick and sour and an
atmosphere built up in the car, as if they both felt it.

She made an effort. Its a pity Pam
Murphy cant be assigned to this. Good experience for her.

Scobie stirred in the passenger
seat. He wore old-fashioned aftershave, stale and dense in the confines of the
CIU car. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he struggled to cross his
long legs under the glove box.

Yes.

Ellen sighed and drove on, through
the endless suburbs, and then finally along the river, the glassy office
buildings of the city centre now clearly visible. The traffic raced and darted,
unnerving her. She edged across to the outer lane, took the exit that would
lead her to the hospital.

* * * *

They
were shown to a suite intended to comfort children whenever the authorities
were obliged to step in with questions, intervention orders or counselling. The
surfaces were soft, the colours cheery, the light muted. There was a TV set, a
sound system, plenty of books and toys. Donna Blasko was seated on a sofa,
cuddling Katie. A paediatric nurse, smiling, bouncy, like a big sister, sat in
the corner. Scobie joined the nurse, leaving the interview to Ellen.

The first thing Ellen did was
separate mother and daughter. Donna, she murmured, Id like you to sit with
the others. That way Katie can concentrate for me, but know that youre still
in the room.