Limbo (29 page)

‘Damn. And here I was just about to ask another favour.’

Jean sighed. ‘Ronald Stewart?’

‘Ronald Stewart. Do you think you could see what you could find out on him? He’s not a parolee this time around. He was released after he’d served his full sentence but do you have any interstate contacts who might know where he is now?’

‘I know someone who’s spent a shitload of his time with the department working in regional New South Wales. God knows why.’ She shuddered a little, as if regional anywhere was akin to hell. ‘But he might know something. I’ll see what I can scare up.’

‘Any information would be much appreciated.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Jean nodded dismissively then stood. Apparently their never-had-it conversation was over. Joy and Dash stood too, Dash dumping the files he’d been cradling in the chair. ‘Good luck with it,’ she said. ‘I think Baz and his lot have got that one wrong.’

‘You don’t like the husband either?’ Dash asked.

‘Nope.’

‘Why not?’

Jean shrugged. ‘Because after twenty-seven years I reckon I can spot a guilty person at a hundred yards and Martin Richardson just doesn’t tweak my radar.’ She turned shrewd eyes on Joy. ‘What do you reckon?’

Joy debated several PC answers in quick succession but ultimately she didn’t think a woman like Jean would appreciate any fence sitting. ‘I
know
Martin Richardson didn’t do it.’

Because that’s what it got down to for Joy. A belief in Hailey and what Hailey had told her. And she didn’t think for a second Hailey would have had said Isabella needed to be with her father if Martin had done this thing to her.

Jean raised an eyebrow at Joy then stared at Dash. ‘Is she related through blood or…other bodily fluids to him somehow?’

‘No.’ Joy said, jumping in quickly. If that was Jean’s way of asking if she was Martin’s secret lover then she wanted to refute it absolutely. ‘I…’ she said, glancing at Dash. ‘I met Hailey once is all.’

‘Okay then.’ Jean looked at Dash. ‘Are you going to find who did it?’

‘That’s the plan.’

‘Good. I’ll ring you as soon as I have any info on good old Ronnie.’

‘Thanks,’ Dash smiled. ‘You’re a gem.’

Jean snorted. ‘Yep, that’s me. I’m the freaking crown jewels. Now get out of my office. I’ve gotta go see a murderer.’

They left, with Dash still sporting a huge, underwear-melting grin.

***

An hour and a half later, parked in an over-warm car waiting for Gerry Cardwell to emerge from his appointment, Joy noted that Dash was in a less chipper mood. He’d barely spoken to her since they’d pulled up outside and had been tense from the second Gerry had emerged from a car parked in the designated area and ambled inside.

He’d asked her to grab his binoculars out of the glove box, which she did, and he used them to check out the number plate on Gerry’s car, which he tapped into his phone to check on later.

Joy had thought it hilarious that Dash owned binoculars — it seemed like such a PI thing to have — but she’d wisely kept that little observation to himself.

She broke the silence after ten minutes. Clearly she was never going to earn a pair of binoculars. ‘How long do these things usually take?’

‘Depends. Anywhere from about ten minutes to half an hour,’ Dash said as he stared at the front doors of a building; one that this time looked like it had been built in this century.

Dash hadn’t taken his gaze off the front doors since Gerry had gone in. Or at least she didn’t think he had anyway. It was hard to tell where his eyes were at beneath his mirrored Miami Vice sunglasses.

‘Depends on what?’

‘Whether he’s been a good boy. Met all his counselling sessions, not had a bad rap from his boss. Then of course they could spring a random urine test on him for drugs so that would take longer.’

‘Okay then,’ she said, turning her face to the window and shutting her eyes. ‘But if he doesn’t come out soon this sun is going to put me to sleep.’

The day had warmed up to a bright and gorgeous twenty-four degrees but with the sun beating though the windscreen, the inside of the car was much warmer even with both their windows down. Dash had shrugged out of his jacket over an hour ago, which had left his lovely broad shoulders firmly planted in her peripheral vision. Joy was still in her hoodie but she’d unzipped it and for the moment she was revelling in the sun.

Pretty soon she’d have to take the hoodie off. Hell, if it got much warmer than this she was going to have to go and strip off her long johns, but for now her bones were soaking up the sunshine.

Dash moved beside her and she opened her eyes as he said, ‘Here he comes.’

Joy watched as skinny Gerry Cardwell with his thick brows and prominent forehead walked out the doors and headed to the car park. He got in a green sedan and turned right onto the main drag.

‘What happens now?’ she asked as Dash started the car.

He grinned at her for the first time today with his crooked mouth, those dimples tap-dancing all over her resolve to leave him the hell alone. ‘We follow him, Tonto. Buckle up.’

‘Rose,’ Joy said as she reached for the seatbelt and clicked it in place.

They followed Gerry for fifteen minutes down the highway to a block of shops not dissimilar to the ones where Hailey had last been seen. A convenience store, a café, a bakery, a newsagent and a fish-and-chip shop. He parked out front of a café, got out of his car and entered.

Dash parked discreetly over the other side and down a few spots. ‘Getting lunch, Gerry?’ he murmured as he watched the rear-view mirror, ‘or is this where you work?’

Joy’s stomach grumbled loudly when Gerry hadn’t returned to his car half an hour later. She’d already gone through an apple, a Mars Bar (to save it from melting inside the car) and slugged down a bottle of Powerade as they’d waited outside the parole office earlier.

‘Do you think he knows we were following him? Did he skip out the back?’

‘Nope. He didn’t make us.’

Joy wished she possessed a tenth the confidence that Dash did when it came to his job. He was always so damn certain and sure of himself. Whereas she’d never felt certain of her music career — not even in those two years with the band. And on an empty stomach it was kind of irritating.

‘Because you’re that good?’ she asked, her voice as sweet as arsenic, her hand lying against her belly trying to comfort a stomach going into meltdown.

It wasn’t hard to believe. Dash had proven himself
very adept
at a bunch of things so why not that too?

He looked at her. Or at least in her general direction - it was hard to tell what was going on behind those shades. His face seemed bland enough but she could tell by the slight indent of his dimples that she was amusing him. She got the feeling that what he wanted to say was y
ou know I’m that good, baby.
But he didn’t.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Well yes, I
am
good but…’

Ha! She knew it.

He returned his attention to the rear view mirror. ‘… you can usually tell if you’ve been made. Unless the person you’re trailing is some black ops government spook, which liquor-shop stick-up guys usually aren’t, most people start doing all kinds of crazy things to lose you. I think this might be where he works.’

‘So…we just sit here til he comes out?’

‘Once I’ve sussed it out a bit, yes.’

‘What do you mean sussed it out?’

‘Think I’ll go buy a coffee, see if I can see him out back.’

Joy almost fainted in relief at the mention of sustenance. ‘Roger that,’ she said, unclipping her seatbelt and fumbling for the door.

‘Where are you going?’ he frowned.

‘I’m coming with you to get food.’

‘Not with that pink bit in your hair you’re not. Every man and his dog seems to recognise you from X Factor and I don’t want him to get suspicious if he should see you again. You stay here. Ring me if you see him heading back to his car.’

‘Hang on,’ she said as she grabbed his arm. It was bare and warm, the hairs tickling and the muscle tensing beneath her palm. ‘Can you get some fish and chips, or something from the bakery?’

‘Fish?’ Dash asked with a
tsk
. ‘Poor Ralph would not be pleased with your choice.’

Joy doubted poor Ralph gave a flying fuck about anything at the moment other than the lovely Simone.

‘Please?’

Dash shook his head at her. ‘One day you’re going to be forty and it’s not going to be pretty when your metabolism hits
tha
t brick wall.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, dropping her hand. ‘I’ll take that on board. But it
is
lunch time.’

He sighed. ‘If he’s obviously working I’ll bring you back something to eat. But you gotta keep a watch in case he suddenly decides to leave.’

Joy slashed a cross over her heart with her index finger. ‘Promise.’

Joy adjusted the rear-vision mirror after Dash got out so she could see behind her. Currently it filled up with his very nice butt although thankfully that disappeared quickly as he entered the coffee shop. She ditched her hoodie to distract herself from thoughts of his butt. She’d been self-conscious about taking it off with him in the car given how much she’d exposed to him last night. But the day was too warm now for the fleecy jumper.

Her hand brushed against Dash’s discarded leather jacket as she placed the hoodie next to it on the back seat. Absently she touched it. The deep, indigo blue leather was really freaking soft beneath her fingers, like butter and so very tactile. She caressed the sleeve, noticing there was a worn circular area where something had once been attached. A badge of some description?

Was it his police jacket? It did look very well worn.

A horn beeped, startling Joy, and she dropped the fabric guiltily as she glanced in the rear-view mirror. Dash was just stepping out of the café carrying two coffees and she smiled triumphantly when he turned right and headed for the fish-and-chip shop. Her stomach growled in delight.

Ten minutes later he was heading back to the car and passing the food in to Joy. The smell of hot oil and carbohydrates flooded her mouth with saliva.

‘Man, that smells
sooo
good,’ she groaned as she pressed her nose to the plain white paper that secured the bundle of goodness.

‘It’s definitely his workplace,’ Dash confirmed as he settled into his seat and buckled up. ‘He’s out the back in a hair net and apron.’

He started the engine. ‘We’re leaving?’ she asked.

‘Nope. We’re relocating. I’ll find a place to park on the street. Somewhere we’ll have full sight of the car but he won’t be able to see us sitting in a parked car for hours on end and wonder why.’

‘Would he even notice?’

‘If he’s murdered someone and is hiding an abducted kid he will.’

He found a spot in front of another set of shops on the opposite side of the road and slightly to the north on a downward slope, underneath a big old tree. Joy felt the immediate respite from the sun through the windscreen as he grabbed the binoculars.

She opened the steaming hot bundle, releasing more delicious aromas. ‘Can you see it?’ Joy asked as she bit into a hot chip so perfectly crunchy and salty it sent her tastebuds into raptures.

‘Yep,’ he said, stashing the binoculars on the dashboard and reaching over for a chip. ‘Mmm. These are good.’

Joy nodded. They were. The fish was good too and they both ate in silence until every last crumb was devoured. After that they sipped at their coffees. Dash kept his eyes on the café while Joy idly counted the cars that passed them by.

‘So,’ Joy said eventually, hoping for a little conversation, anything other than death by car counting. ‘More waiting?’

‘Yep,’ he nodded, looking out the window to his right, his sunglasses firmly back in place.

‘It’s kind of boring stuff, this surveillance, isn’t it?’

‘Yep.’

Oh goody. Monosyllabic conversations. Her favourite. ‘What happens if one of us needs to go to the toilet?’

He turned his head to look at her. All she could see was herself in the surface of the shades. ‘Do you need to go to the toilet?’

‘No. But if this goes for hours I’m going to need to.’

He reached out and took her coffee off her. ‘Best not to have that then,’ he said.

Joy watched forlornly as he opened the door slightly and tipped her drink onto the road. ‘You’re drinking coffee,’ she said, pointing to his standard café-issue paper cup.

‘Yes. But taking a piss on surveillance is usually not a problem for a guy.’

‘Because you’re genetically predisposed to not use public amenities so you’ve built up a huge bladder capacity?’

He turned to face her again. ‘Because we don’t have to squat. All I need is this cup.’

He held up her coffee cup. ‘Eww,’ she said.

He smiled slightly as he returned his attention to Gerry’s car. Which is pretty much where it stayed glued for the next two hours. Joy didn’t feel so inclined. She also didn’t feel inclined to try and mine for crumbs of conversation with the man who A, didn’t want to and B, had almost made her come last night just from his mouth on her nipples. She had her pride, after all.

She grabbed her phone and shoved in some earbuds, scrolling to her music collection and relaxing into the seat as one of her favourite Fire In The Hole songs blasted into her eardrums.

At one stage he turned and glanced at her briefly then went back to his surveillance. ‘What?’ she said.

‘You were singing.’

His face was turned away so his answer was muffled and not helped by her earbuds and the grungy music throbbing into them. She pulled one out. ‘What?’

He looked at her. ‘You were singing,’ he repeated.

‘Oh.’ Given that she was currently listening to the very dirty ‘Figured You Out’ she blushed. She actually freaking
blushed.
‘Sorry.’

‘Nickleback huh?’

She couldn’t see his eyes but she was damn sure they were staring right at her breasts. She swallowed. ‘Yeah.’

He didn’t say anything, just turned back to his window and Joy was pleased that they were parked in such a way that he was forced to turn his head away from her to survey the scene instead of having to look across her.