Jill Jackson - 04 - Watch the World Burn (21 page)

Jill cradled the little cat carefully, holding her close, as she had all night – sleeping, but always just aware of the warm body nestled against her stomach. She could feel Gabriel’s apartment bright around her, but she kept her eyes closed, unwilling yet to face the day. She listened to him moving carefully around the kitchen. Did he really believe she could sleep through that? She was pretty sure she shouldn’t be trying to sleep at all. It seemed pretty late; she wondered what time it was.

‘It’s after eight-thirty.’ Gabriel’s voice above her. ‘Did Ten help?’

‘Huh?’ Jill blinked her eyes open.

‘She’s good that way. When she feels I’m sad, she snuggles into my solar plexus.’

‘Your solar plexus?’ Holding onto the blanket, Jill sat up cross-legged on the couch.

‘Yep, she always makes things right.’

‘Sorry about last night,’ Jill said, wincing.

‘Sorry for what? It was just a bad day. But you probably should follow up with someone about what you learned down at the hospital.’

‘I guess.’

‘It’s pretty good there, huh?’

‘Yeah. It was.’

‘You wanna get dressed?’ Gabriel said. ‘Breakfast is nearly ready.’

In the bathroom, Jill found her knickers dry and folded on top of yesterday’s clothes. She glowered at the shower. I’m not getting in you again. She pictured Gabriel helping her last night. She supposed that she should feel mortified; embarrassed, at least. She searched around for the feelings, but found nothing particularly strong. She didn’t think she was especially numb, either, her usual defence. Mainly, she just felt tired, sad.

And hungry. Gabriel was a great cook.

Fifteen minutes later, Jill finally spoke. ‘What kind of crumpets are these?’ she asked. ‘I’ve never had anything like them.’

‘They’re from the bakery. Great, huh?’

‘You can buy crumpets at the bakery?’

Gabriel lifted his eyebrows and took another bite of the crumpet in his hand. His fingers pressed into a thick fold of smoked salmon, which was blanketing a blob of his gorgeous scrambled eggs. Jill could see the whole concoction falling apart at any moment. She stuck with her knife and fork.

‘I love your eggs,’ she said.

‘It’s the cream,’ he said.

‘So, we’re going to see this Erin Hart first up?’ she asked.

‘Yep. And I’ve advised everyone that we’re to get the evidence updates as soon as they come through from the labs. I got a hit from the glass database for the bottle thrown into Scotty’s car.’

Jill snapped her head up from the plate, no longer hungry. ‘What?’

‘The perp drinks juice. It’s a Spring Valley juice bottle.’

‘What do we do with that?’

‘Wait to find out what kind of bottle was thrown into Erin Hart’s house.’

‘They’ll call you as soon as they know?’

He nodded, taking another bite of his crumpet.

‘How are they fitting me into this?’ Jill asked.

‘They’re not,’ Gabriel replied. ‘You’re not up with the Maroubra squad, and God knows the AFP wouldn’t run you with them.’

‘So I’m–’

‘Not really here. No one’s said to put you in, and no one’s said to leave you out. You’re still on study leave.’

Jill shrugged. Whatever. She didn’t really care; she’d be involved one way or another.

As Troy climbed the stairs of the dilapidated terrace house in Surry Hills, he understood why Gail Cole’s legal services weren’t going to cost him much more than a couple of thousand dollars. He hoped that she could do something; Chris was in a shitload of trouble. When he reached the two-roomed office on the second floor, he realised that Gail’s office suite was a former bedroom in this rundown house – and a small one at that; he began to wonder whether he should be shelling out a bit more for a better lawyer.

The secretary offered him one of three mismatched chairs. All of the furniture in here, even the boxy computer on the desk, looked to be government-issue. Troy was pretty sure Ms Cole had gone to an auction clearing-house and bought a used job lot, probably from a school. Even the carpet was primary-school blue. But two thousand would already empty his bank account. He could ask Caesar for a loan, but who knew whether there were going to be more costs after the first court appearance? Troy tried to assuage his feelings of guilt for penny-pinching with Chris’s future; at least he wasn’t just throwing him to the duty solicitor when his case came up in court. He wanted the judge to see that someone cared about Christopher Berrigan. Hell, maybe this Gail Cole was just being practical – she’d know her clientele. Even a local hopper who found himself in here wouldn’t be back to steal any of this shit.

‘Hello, Troy? Gail Cole.’

Troy stood and shook hands, and immediately forgot his money concerns. Gail Cole smiled warmly, wore a suit and looked him right in the eye. She seemed confident. Better still, he couldn’t smell any alcohol or learned helplessness on her. He put her at around his own age, maybe thirty. He followed her into her micro-office.

‘Lovely place you got here,’ he said before he could help it.

‘Well, I don’t want to be shopping for new furniture every week,’ Gail said, using a finger to restrain a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. ‘It gets the job done.’

‘Sorry. I mean, of course. Smart. I was a cop around here, so I get it.’ Why did I just tell her that?

‘Yeah?’ said Gail. ‘Surry Hills?’

‘Redfern,’ said Troy. ‘But I’ve been out four years or more now.’

‘And you work in a restaurant now?’

‘Yeah. I’m managing a restaurant called Incendie.’

‘That’s a bit of a switch.’

‘Yep. I’m the one committing all the robberies now.’

Gail laughed, her teeth flashing white against red lipstick. ‘I’ve heard Incendie’s expensive. And very good. I’ve never been.’

‘Well, you’ll have to come up. I’ll make sure we look after you. It’s pretty romantic, I’m told. A lot of people come for anniversaries. You could do that.’

‘Hmm, maybe I will. It’s my second anniversary in January.’

‘Great,’ said Troy, smiling. ‘I’m sure you’ll both like it.’

‘Oh, I won’t be bringing him,’ she said. ‘It’s the anniversary of my divorce.’

‘Oh.’ Troy smiled again – for real this time.

‘So, your little brother, Christopher,’ said Gail.

‘Do you know where they sent him? Is he okay?’

‘He’s okay,’ she said. ‘He’s at Cobham, out west. I enquired again about bail but they’re having none of it.’

‘Doesn’t that seem a bit harsh to you?’ he asked.

‘Well, it’s a serious charge,’ she said. ‘I mean, I know Christopher wasn’t pointing the weapon at anyone, or using it to commit another offence, but a lot of shots were fired. The bullets could have gone straight through the sheds and killed somebody.’

‘You don’t think I’ve thought of that?’ said Troy. ‘It’s killing me. I don’t know what the hell he was thinking, mucking around with a gun. He’s been staring at my hand every day now for more than four years. He knows what they can do.’ He held his hand up, watched her face.

She winced. ‘What happened?’ she asked.

‘Shotgun, on the job.’

‘Uh huh. Sorry. Well, it would help if he gave a full statement about where he got the weapon. He keeps saying they found it, and apparently his mate, Jayden, said the same thing.’

‘Well, they probably did, then.’

‘Which would wash, except they each gave a completely different location as to where it was found.’

‘Little fuckers,’ he said.

‘Quite,’ said Gail.

‘And the arresting officers don’t seem to have a lot of time for you, Troy,’ she said. ‘They said they worry you haven’t been supervising Christopher well enough. He hasn’t been going to school much lately.’

‘I’ve been on it,’ he said. ‘He went every day last week.’

‘I’ll check it out,’ she said, making a note on a pad in front of her. ‘They worry that with you working nights, if he’s released he’ll just run wild again.’

‘Christ.’ Troy groaned, raking a hand through his hair. He stood and paced. ‘I’ve got to work,’ he said. ‘People have to work. Okay, so if Chris has to do remand, when will his court case be?’

‘Monday.’

‘Monday? He has to stay there the whole week?’

‘Well, we’ve just got to hope it isn’t longer than that,’ she said.

‘Really, a committal? You don’t think he’ll have to go inside?’

‘It’s a gun, Troy. And he’s still got the vandalism charge from the week before.’

‘Can’t you do something?’

‘Well, I’ve asked them to roll the two cases together, so basically I’ll try to make it look like a first offence – a bad week spent with bad company.’

‘That’s good,’ said Troy. ‘That’s what it is.’

‘He’s an angry boy, Troy,’ said Gail.

‘Did you talk to him? They wouldn’t let me.’

‘Just by phone,’ she said. ‘I’ll go out there this week. I tried to encourage him to cooperate, to make a statement about where he got the gun, but he has a hard-arse attitude. That’s not going to play well in court.’

Troy sat down again. ‘Let me talk to him.’ He leaned forwards in his chair. ‘Can you get me a visit?’

‘Not until the weekend,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’ Gail paused, then readied her pen. ‘How long has he been living with you?’

‘Since he was five. His sister was four.’

‘What was wrong at home?’

Troy stared at his hands for a beat, then met her eyes. ‘What wasn’t?’

‘Drugs, alcohol, domestic violence?’

‘Check, check, check. I got out and left them there.’ He put his eyes back on his hands.

‘You came back.’

He snorted. ‘Yeah. Three years later. They were just babies when I left them in there.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Eighteen when I came back.’

‘Just a kid yourself.’

‘I shouldn’t have left them.’

‘Does Chris remember what happened back then?’

‘He doesn’t talk about it.’

‘What did happen to him?’ Gail asked.

‘I don’t talk about it,’ he said.

‘It could help.’

‘Who?’

‘Well, it could help Chris’s case if I can show that he’s done it tough. The judges are usually more understanding.’

‘He has a DoCS file. I’ll bring it in.’

‘Great. And when I said that it could help to talk about it, I also meant that it might help you too,’ she said.

‘Oh, I’m beyond help,’ said Troy. He forced a grin.

‘Well, there’s a challenge,’ she said. ‘I’m the champion of lost causes.’

‘Yeah, I can tell by your office.’

‘I can always raise my fee,’ she said. ‘Spruce things up a bit on your dollar.’

‘You know, I actually find it quite charming in here.’

Gail laughed and stood. ‘Well, Mr Charming, I’ve got work to do, so–’

‘I’ll bring the file by tomorrow?’ he said.

‘That’d be great.’

‘Around lunchtime? We could grab something.’

‘That would also be great.’

Troy didn’t stop smiling until it was time to go to work and he remembered that tonight he’d be entertaining half the brass in the force.

Erin splashed her face in the small office bathroom. How Shane could still make her cry, she had no idea. How he could say things to her that he knew would cut her so deeply, she also had no idea. He used to become teary when he saw her cry.

When she’d sensed him falling out of love with her it had been the most terrifying experience of her life. She’d told her counsellor that sensing what was between them dying felt as bad to her as being told she had a terminal illness. Not that I’ve ever had to go through that, she’d acknowledged, but at least I could try to fight an illness. But how do you fight against something that’s slowly slipping through your fingers? Grabbing on tighter made Shane withdraw faster. Backing off and pretending not to worry just made it easier for him.

The anger always followed the grief. How fucking dare he come here and try to make me feel guilty for what happened last night? He had no real concern for her. Why had she imagined he would? Hamish cared more about how she felt than the man she’d built her life around.

How she felt about the fire, she still hadn’t quite determined. Before last night, the threats had always been unnerving but they’d also seemed remote. God, there are really some fruitcakes out there, she usually thought to herself. They were always Out There. But last night, one of them had hurtled a piece of himself into her world, into her dining room, exploding in the heart of her home. She’d had the emergency glass repairers on the phone before she’d even left the police station last night, but now she knew there was nothing more between her and them than a sheet of glass. Nothing between them and Reece, between them and Callie. She thought about the threatening email and her stomach heaved. She leant forwards and splashed her face again.

Maybe Shane’s right? Erin thought. Maybe I don’t need this anymore. Running for office and being elected by her community had made her more proud than almost anything she’d ever done, but none of it was worth having a target on her back, on Callie’s and Reece’s backs.

The front buzzer sounded. Erin straightened her jacket and did up a button. She hadn’t been able to do that in this suit for a couple of years; the action cheered her, and she left the bathroom. From the hall, she saw that the couple waiting with Hamish were not what she’d expected. She’d met a few federal cops before, two of whom were older than her – they were shrewd, suited, sensible. The others were part of what she always thought of as the super-race, the elite of the human food chain. Last year she’d been invited to a touch footy match – federal cops versus special forces. It had been like watching the gods hurling lightning at one another. But the two in her foyer didn’t fit either type.

Hamish was preening himself by the water-cooler. She caught his eye and he mouthed,
‘Oh my God!’

Erin understood. The male – that would be Delahunt – looked like a cross between a drug-dealer and Jason Bourne. Unlike his superhero compadres, he stood just a head taller than his partner, and although he didn’t have their gridiron neck, his chest and biceps looked like they could keep up. With a gun-belt sitting low on his hips and a baseball cap shading his eyes, she was pretty sure the majority of her constituents would have given him a pretty good perimeter. The female looked like nothing more than a surfie chick, cargo pants and a singlet, tousled blonde hair, flicked around her face; snubbed nose, freckles. She seemed too sweet to be a cop. The woman then turned sightly, surveying the room, and Erin saw the tattoo on her chiselled deltoid: the scales of justice. She felt suddenly glad that they were here.

‘Erin Hart,’ she said, walking into the foyer, hand outstretched.

‘Federal Agent Gabriel Delahunt, Detective Sergeant Jillian Jackson,’ said Delahunt. Everyone shook hands. ‘Gabriel and Jill,’ he added.

‘Erin,’ she said and smiled. ‘Did Hamish offer you coffee, tea?’

She heard her PA cough behind her.
Of course I did!

‘Yep. We’re good with water,’ said Gabriel.

‘Shall we go into my office?’ asked Erin. She led the way and closed the door behind them.

‘We’re sorry about what happened to your house last night, Erin,’ said Gabriel.

‘You’ve got a lovely home,’ said Jill.

‘You two were out there, then?’ asked Erin.

‘Yes,’ said Gabriel. ‘We photographed the scene, took some small samples of evidence.’

‘Do you know who might have done this?’ asked Erin.

‘That’s why we’re here,’ said Gabriel. ‘We don’t know yet, but you can help us piece things together.’

‘Okay – ready when you are,’ said Erin. She noticed that Jill Jackson sat intently, poised over her notebook.

‘Right, we’ll start with the obvious,’ said Gabriel. ‘Have you had any recent threats?’

Erin began by telling them about the email of the acid attack on the kids in the mall.

‘You got that email handy?’ asked Gabriel.

‘I deleted it,’ said Erin. ‘Sorry. It seems stupid of me now, but it just upset me so much when it mentioned Callie.’

‘That’s okay,’ said Gabriel. ‘We can get it back. Just keep stuff like that from now on. Anything else like that?’

Erin told them about the string of phone hang-ups over the previous year, the egging and paint on the car. She told them about the phone calls and emails from people who thought the CCTV project was designed to read people’s minds. She watched Jill write it all down.

‘We’ll look into those crazy emails, but I don’t think they’re significant,’ said Gabriel. ‘The person who threw the incendiary device into your dining room is not psychotic. The bottle had a carefully designed, self-igniting trigger. Nobody thought-disordered could have created it.’

Erin saw Jackson turn towards Delahunt, her eyebrows raised.

‘You get that last night?’ asked Jill of her partner.

‘Yep. Found traces of the tape used to secure the sugar-chlorate package, just like I thought.’

‘What if the tape was there for another reason?’ asked Jill.

Gabriel shrugged. ‘What else is this squirrel gonna tape to the outside of a bottle full of accelerant?’

Erin saw Jill shake her head and resume writing; she could hear the pen scratching furiously.

Gabriel continued. ‘So, this CCTV project you mentioned. Tell us more about that. Is it a big part of your work at the moment?’

Erin told them about the committee formed to implement and evaluate the effectiveness of a major increase in high-quality surveillance. When she paused, unsure whether to go into it further, Gabriel nodded.

‘We’re pretty happy about the project over at AFP,’ he said. ‘We’ve been hoping it gets spread city-wide – hell, cities-wide.’

‘I can understand people’s concerns about privacy,’ said Erin. ‘We knew there’d be a bit of a backlash, but we believe the way we’ve addressed those concerns has allayed a lot of people’s fears.’

‘But not the loonies?’ said Jill.

‘Not the loonies,’ agreed Erin.

‘Has anyone else on the committee had similar threats?’ asked Gabriel.

‘Well, most of us have had some weird calls or emails, but I guess I’ve had the most because I’m the chair.’

‘Anyone on the committee had anything sinister happen to them?’ asked Gabriel.

‘Like what happened to me last night? No. We spoke about these calls at the last meeting, and there was nothing really to worry about.’

‘What about things
not
like what happened to you last night?’ said Gabriel.

‘Sorry?’ said Erin.

‘What?’ asked Jill, simultaneously.

‘You said, “Nothing like what had happened to me”.’

‘Ah, yeah?’ said Erin.

‘What about other nasty things? Anything at all.’

Erin paused. ‘Well, there was only Sheila,’ she said, her heart suddenly heavy. ‘But that was just a horrible accident.’

‘What kind of accident?’

Erin felt Jill’s eyes on her, and she shifted in her chair with the sudden intensity of their attention. She’d hate to be one of their suspects. ‘Well, it was just a terrible tragedy,’ she said. ‘One of those things you could never foresee. You probably heard about it – Sheila McIntyre. She fell off a platform into the path of an oncoming train. There were a lot of commuters jostling, it was wet. It was out at Riverstone – a couple of weeks ago now.’

‘I remember,’ said Gabriel. ‘She was on the CCTV committee?’

‘Yes,’ said Erin. ‘I talked her into joining us. She was such a determined person, and a really good friend.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Gabriel. ‘What was she doing out at Riverstone?’

‘Distributing fliers about the project, actually,’ said Erin.

‘But I thought it was only around the Glebe area?’ said Gabriel.

‘Well, it is,’ said Erin. ‘But one of our terms of reference is to educate the wider community about the benefits of the cameras, and one of the ways we are doing that is to talk to people who don’t currently have any cameras, or who might benefit from an increase.’

‘So they’ll pressure their local members?’ asked Gabriel.

‘Something like that, yes,’ said Erin. ‘It’s no secret that the government would like this project to work and then be implemented state-wide as quickly as possible.’

‘And Riverstone Station doesn’t have a camera,’ said Gabriel.

‘Just the one,’ said Erin.

‘Convenient,’ said Jill.

‘What – what are you saying?’ asked Erin, her eyes wide.

‘Nothing,’ said Jill.

‘You’re saying Sheila was
pushed?
No one saw anything like that.’

‘No one ever does,’ said Gabriel.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Erin, standing. ‘Do you think there’s some psycho out there killing people? Is that why the Feds are involved? Because there’s no evidence of that here. I saw the footage myself. There was just one idiot captured that morning flipping a bird to the camera, and we get that all the time. All the witnesses just said that it was wet and she slipped.’

‘Look, Erin. We’re really not sure yet,’ said Gabriel. ‘But we have our analysts working on this as their top priority. Today. It could be that this isn’t connected in any way. What happened to you could just be a random attack. But right now you’re helping us a lot. Our job is to look for patterns, connect the dots. We brainstorm sometimes – you know about that, Erin. You throw ideas out there, bark up a lot of trees. Most of them don’t work out. Don’t get too worried about minor comments that we make here and there.’

‘What about your personal life?’ asked Jill. ‘Is there anyone out there who really doesn’t like you?’

‘Enough to firebomb my home with my children in it?’ asked Erin, feeling heat at her throat. ‘Who do I look like, Tony Soprano?’

Jill smiled. Despite herself, Erin gave a short laugh.

‘Does your house have a mortgage?’ asked Gabriel.

‘No,’ said Erin. ‘Why?’

‘It’s a standard question in a fire investigation,’ said Gabriel. ‘Don’t be offended. It’s just that most domestic arson attacks are committed by the homeowner when they’re in financial straits.’

‘Wrong tree,’ said Erin.

‘We know,’ said Jill. ‘Gotta check these questions off, though.’

‘Your children’s father?’ asked Jill.

‘Is an arsehole,’ said Erin. ‘But he loves his kids.’

‘Again, wrong bush,’ said Gabriel.

‘Tree,’ said Jill.

‘What?’ said Gabriel.

‘It’s okay, just keep going, Gabe,’ said Jill.

Erin smiled.

‘I’d rather go back to your professional life,’ said Gabriel. ‘How is the CCTV project going generally? Are you convincing the punters?’

‘Yes. We’ve had a lot of support, even from sectors we were worried about. People want to see it in action, of course, look at the outcomes, but the message of lowering crime without reducing the privacy of law-abiding citizens has been getting through.’

The questions paused. Erin waited.

‘Of course, there was that terrible incident the other night,’ she said.

‘What incident?’ said Gabriel.

‘That poor man in the city. Father of four children. Stabbed to death right in front of a carpark CCTV camera.’

‘That’s right,’ said Gabriel. ‘The man in the mask. Shanked to death by a Ninja Turtle.’ He shook his head. ‘Harsh.’

‘It was just horrible,’ said Erin. ‘That’s why we’ve got to keep doing what we’re doing. But that incident didn’t help the project at all. The lunatic looked straight at the camera, as if to ask what good these things are anyway. “They can’t catch me”, or something like that.’

‘Something exactly like that,’ said Gabriel.

Erin saw the look that passed between Jackson and Delahunt, and for the second time that morning she felt her stomach heave. What the hell is going on here?