I slid the report over for Kaikoura, pointing to the clothing description on that one.
"When I left Dunedin, before I stepped on the bus taking me North to Kaikoura, I changed my appearance again. This time I wore cute white shorts and tight fitting T-shirts, I had long dusky blonde hair and by the time I left there, a tan."
My hand moved to the next report for Cardrona.
"When I left Kaikoura, I had honey blonde curly hair in a ponytail, wore hipster jeans and brand-name tops, to blend in with the ski-bunnies on the slopes of Cardrona. For Geraldine..."
"OK, enough!" Pierce interrupted me, and for the first time since this all began, a puzzled frown marred his fierce façade.
Nobody spoke for several long moments. The detective leaned back in his chair and rubbed his goatee beard in contemplation.
"Roan McLaren's been spreading the word you're his secret weapon," he admitted, eyes back on me.
"Oh, so you believe a criminal drug lord over a frightened woman?" I huffed a breath out in disgust. "That man could sell ice-creams to Polar Bears. But he'd lace them with razor blades and then laugh when they took a bite."
Pierce blinked once.
"The crimes committed matched his modus operandi. He's also been trying to get into Declan King's territory for some time. Using you, someone who appears to have continued with pursuits that coincide with McLaren's, to do reconnaissance here is not a stretch of the imagination."
I shook my head at him. "That still doesn't make sense. Not enough for you to attribute these crimes to me."
Pierce was so still I had to double check to make sure he was breathing. He was clearly mulling over this new turn of events. Ben continued to gently rub my shoulders, an absent movement I was unsure if he knew he was even making, but I was inordinately grateful for it. It soothed me, calmed me, made it possible to wait the detective out and not start demanding answers in a way that would raise the cop's hackles.
"We received an anonymous tip-off," he finally admitted. Before I could comment, he continued. "Even though it was anonymous and entirely too convenient, the images that the informant provided matched your description when you were at the Devil's Henchman's mechanic shop. And you have been in those locations."
"She was set up," Ben offered. "And victims are keen to place a name and face to their attacker, and often pick the best choice of those available."
Pierce let a slow long breath out.
"You know I'm right, don't you?" Ben said slowly.
Pierce took in Ben's current position; at my back, hands on my shoulders, fingers kneading in support. "Can you even be trusted to be neutral about this?" he asked.
"When have I ever put you wrong, Pierce?"
The detective reluctantly shook his head. "Never."
"And how many times have you used my services in the past to get what you needed in order to do your job?" Ben pushed.
It was Pierce's turn to clench his fists.
"Too many," he bit out.
"Look at this woman," Ben demanded. "Really fucking look at her!"
Pierce, whose eyes had been locked on Ben's face over my shoulder, lowered his gaze to me.
"What do you want me to see, Ben?" he asked finally, voice tight and in control.
"Tell me you don't see it?" Ben asked roughly.
Pierce stared at me hard and long, but didn't offer a comment. Ben must have become impatient.
"Tell me," he said, moving from behind me, to rest his hands flat on the table at my side and lean over top of Pierce, "that you haven't seen this look before."
What?
Pierce returned his attention to me, from the tightly coiled Māori in front of him. His gaze took me in completely. My face shadowed, my shoulders hunched, my body curled in on itself. I'd been like this pretty much since I sat down. Even though I bit back, it had all been an act. Something I had trained myself to do. Something my father had trained me to do. I was good at acting, but I wasn't infallible.
What I was, was exhausted. At the end of my ability to keep running. Tired enough to lower my guard and let Ben in. Weary enough to let a stranger, a threat, see...
me
.
Pierce let another long breath of air out and sat back in his chair.
"You came in here with preconceived ideas," Ben said in a low, dark voice. "You had me following her with preconceived ideas. And all along, she was the one we should have been protecting. Not
him
."
"I was never protecting him," Pierce shot back. "Don't fucking think for a minute that I'd protect scum like him. But the evidence of these crimes, the
type
of crimes committed, led to her and with that knowledge it wasn't hard to believe she was still Roan McLaren's to control."
"You got it fuckin' wrong," Ben said, shifting back from the table and crossing his arms over his chest. He looked entirely too big in the small interrogation room just then.
"Fuck!" Pierce finally burst out. Standing up so quickly his chair almost toppled over. He took one more look at me, and as though he couldn't stand the sight, turned and faced the wall, placing his back to both Ben and myself. His clenched fists rested on his hips. He was breathing too quickly.
From that position he asked, "You're fucking sure about this, aren't you?"
"I have never been so fuckin' sure about anything else in my entire life," Ben answered evenly.
Pierce actually groaned. "Did he...?" He obviously couldn't finish his question, but Ben must have understood what he was about to ask.
"Harmed people she knew. People she cared about. All as a threat to keep her in line. But her father stood between McLaren and her at extreme risk to himself."
Holy shit, did it sound good hearing Ben speak of my father like that, even though the topic made my stomach flip uncomfortably inside.
"Jesus," Pierce said on an exhaled breath of air.
He turned back around to face us, his eyes flicked to mine then and I saw something that hadn't been there before. I think it was compassion. Even with that goatee still plastered on his face, he was so far from sinister right then I had to blink twice.
"Five years you've been running," he said quietly. "Scared he'd catch up." I just stared at him. "And all the while he used us to track you down."
Pierce was right. These crimes were all Roan's doing, in an attempt to locate me. He'd found me at each of those spots I'd been hiding at, but before he could grab me, I'd moved on. In an effort to find my next location, Roan had the crimes undertaken and tipped the cops off to it being me. In the hopes they'd catch me for him.
Clever, sneaky, disgusting bastard.
Ben moved to sit down on the chair beside me and slipped his hand in mine. His fingers entwined with my fingers. The warmth of his body heat infused me through our touch. Despite this new realisation of just what lengths Roan would go to get me, I was no longer alone and Ben wanted to remind me. I squeezed back when his fingers tightened once.
"So, what now?" I asked Pierce.
Pierce looked at me solemnly and took a deep breath in.
"Maybe we should get a cup of coffee for this next bit," he suggested softly.
I was in no mood for stalling. I'd just been through hell and back, accused of crimes I'd never committed, been placed well within McLaren's network of criminals. I must have squeezed my hand too tightly. Out of fear or anger or sheer frustration, because Ben hissed a breath out, flexed his own fingers back in warning and then leaned over to whisper, "Like your grip, red, but my fingers are goin' numb."
My eyes flicked to his. Amusement laced with concern met my gaze.
"Just spit it out, Pierce," Ben said, not shifting his face away from mine.
"Sarah," Pierce started, the first time he'd relaxed enough to not call me Ms Monaghan.
"Name's Abi," Ben pointed out. "She ain't Sarah no more." He continued to hold my gaze, almost challenging
me
with that statement. I nodded, to let him know I agreed.
"Abi Monaghan," I whispered. I wanted my Dad's surname back. I wanted to be the woman who had caught Ben Tamati's eye and heart. That woman hadn't been Sarah Monaghan. It hadn't even been Abi Merchant. Not really. It was the woman beneath the pencil skirts and fitted blouses that he saw. It was the persona I had begun to embrace after he started shadowing me.
"OK, Abi," Pierce said. My eyes flicked to his, having heard the gravity on those two simple words. "We've been working with someone high up in McLaren's organisation."
Shit, who would risk so much?
"They've given us valuable information. Told us things that were extremely sensitive."
"Just fuckin' tell her," Ben bit out at my side.
Pierce looked a little uncomfortable, but finally caved in.
"Arthur Monaghan," he said, and my heart leapt out of my chest.
"My Dad?" I asked, as my body began to shake in fear and confusion and dare I say it, hope.
"Yes, quite a coincidence," Pierce answered, tipping the world off its axis...
...and spinning
my
world out of control.
"How?" I breathed. "Is he OK? Did Roan hurt him? Did he get out? How long has been helping you? Can I see him? Where is he now? Is he OK?" I was aware that I had started to repeat myself, but the questions were clambering inside my head, tumbling over one another, and doused in an enormous amount of hope and fear.
"Red," Ben said softly.
"Abi," Pierce said with a harder edge to his tone. I don't think he was trying to be mean, I think he was trying to shock me out of my downward spiral.
"Or dear God," I moaned. "He thought I'd left the country already, hadn't he?" I asked, my eyes pleading with Pierce to confirm or deny, I don't know which.
"Yes. He told us you would be long gone, that's why he finally agreed to our terms," Pierce said, voice gentler now.
"What terms?" I asked, needing to know
everything
.
"In order to gain immunity from prosecution he had to divulge everything he knew. If we found out he held something back at a later date, the agreement would be void. At first he refused. Then, after some time, he came back to us and signed the contract. Told us about you. Of course, he insisted you were innocent. We believed he was lying, considering the evidence of the crimes we associated with you."
"When did you start working with him?" I asked, ignoring the repeated reference to
my
crimes.
"One year ago." Holy shit. That long?
And then I realised, Dad had waited four years for me to follow his instructions, to get an ID good enough to fool border control. He'd given me an extra two years, just to be sure. But I'd let him down. I'd not been able to find a forger good enough, until I was given my latest contact's name. And even then it had taken me months to build up courage to shift to Auckland. Big metropolitan city meant bigger chance of a kingpin like Roan. And my fear had been confirmed this morning.
"He gave us a photo of you taken just before you left the Compound," Pierce said. I was guessing it was the same photo Ben had shown me. "To my utter surprise, having followed your trail for so long and not actually catching up with you, you were in Sweet Seduction one day, when I was visiting with Genevieve Cain. It took several minutes for me to align this image," - his hand washed out over my body indicating my attire and appearance, no doubt - "with the young punk girl in the photo.
And
with the leather-clad girl we'd been tracking through her supposed crimes linked to Roan McLaren all over the country for the past five years."
"What gave me away?" I asked numbly. Every new location involved a completely new hide. I thought I'd been good at hiding.
And I had. Neither Roan nor the police had actually caught me until Auckland.
"The way you stir your coffee." Huh, I didn't know I had a 'tell' like that. "You do three turns to the right, then three to the left, then three right again. It's pretty memorable. I remembered watching your father do the same thing during an interview once."
I smiled, it wasn't entirely humorous. But I could just picture Dad stirring his coffee like that.
"It made me look at you twice, then I started to see other structural similarities, looked into your history, found you didn't exist before Pennyworth's, although they thought you had a long line of retail experience. Connected all the dots and realised I had our pharmacy robbing criminal, part of McLaren's network, right under my nose."
"You could tell my identity was fake," I said for clarification, unsure how to take any of this. Obviously, I couldn't run anymore. I'd been found. And, even though I didn't
want
to run anymore, the shock of not being able to made me quake in unmitigated fear.
"It was pretty obvious once all the facts were laid out," he confirmed. "But we didn't want to take you in straight away. We still believed you were working for McLaren, who's been trying to expand into King's territory for several years. So, I hired ASI and Ben to shadow you, expecting you to meet up with McLaren and give him some sort of reconnaissance information, in order for him to advance on King."
"Holy shit," I muttered. It kind of made sense. No wonder he thought I was a mole.
"You were going to join the dots for us. The more we had to throw at McLaren, the harder it would stick in the end. But, I'll admit, your father kept insisting that you
were
gone. That you were safe. And, I'm guessing, my attention on you,
the taskforce's
attention on you, brought you under King's notice in the end. Just like McLaren, Declan King has ways of using our intel to get what he wants."
I felt Ben stiffen at my side, an angry energy emanated from him. I didn't have it in me to be angry at Detective Pierce though. I understood how he'd come to that conclusion, and I also understood the motivation to catch Roan McLaren at all costs. What was one woman in the scheme of things?
"I was meant to be gone. Dad told me to leave the country after a couple of years. By that time Roan would have relaxed his search for me and I would have made sufficient contacts to know who were good enough to forge papers that would fool border control. I just wasn't as good as Dad had assumed. It took longer to find my contact."
"The one you visited out West the other day?" Pierce guessed. I just nodded. He rubbed at his goatee for a moment, a thumb on one side, his forefinger on the other. It was a thoughtful pose. "He is good," he admitted. "Made me think you were about to do something big."
I stiffened. "Where is my father?"
"Witness protection. We've got enough to move on McLaren now, our evidence is solid, thanks to your Dad."
"Can I see him?"
He shook his head. "Sorry, really I am, but not until this is over." I felt like he'd punched me in the stomach. "But we will let him know you're safe. And now you'll come under the same protection he does. The taskforce I'm working with on this will be informed and your status altered."
"So, why
are
you
on this taskforce, Pierce?" Ben asked. He still held my hand in one of his, but he now rested his closest arm along the back of my chair. Once again bracketed, cosseted by all of him.
"You know my area of expertise," Pierce said steadily. Ben just nodded, so I was left in the dark, until Pierce added, "Been a lot of women hurt by this man. Even some kids. I wanted in on catching the bastard. I volunteered."
"He hurt someone I know because of me," I admitted, feeling the guilt all over again. "It was a lesson and a threat rolled up in one. But if he hadn't known I knew her, or liked her, he wouldn't have chosen her to use."
Pierce was quiet for a moment.
"You saw it happen?" I shook my head. "He just told you?" Again a head shake, but I couldn’t say the words. Guilt had claimed my tongue for now. Ben shifted closer to me, bringing his chair directly alongside mine.
"He showed her photos," Ben's voice rumbled next to me. "Visual aids to send the message home."
"You actually saw pictures?" Pierce asked. I nodded. "Would you testify in court to that?" I bit my lip and frowned.
"No!" Ben said with a shake of his head. "You do not drag her further into this. She's suffered enough because of that man."
"He's been clever, Ben," Pierce said, getting a little animated in his efforts to reach through Ben's wall of fury between us and him. "We can put him away for decades, even life, with some of the evidence Art Monaghan has accumulated for us, but we have nothing on his... personal pursuits. Just hearsay and conjecture, which knowing the man's character is enough to convince me, but not enough to convince a judge or jury. Abi's seen evidence. Not just heard about it, she's seen photos. Her testimony is better than none."
"No," Ben said resolutely.
"Abi?" Pierce said, ignoring Ben altogether.
"I said, no!" Ben repeated. "You don't get her to cave on this."
"Ben, let the woman talk for herself," Pierce said, a little frustrated at the stonewalling.
"Fuck no!" Ben said, shifting forward in his seat to send the message home.
"He talk for you, Abi?" Pierce pushed.
"Fuck you, Pierce!" Ben spat out through clenched teeth. "You're only after one fuckin' thing and to hell with how you get it. You are not using my woman, pulling her deeper into that pit McLaren fucking pushed her into, to set your conscience right."
Every single word in that last sentence was articulated perfectly, letting me know just how wound up Ben was. No dropping the 'g', correct English all the way. Ben never ceased to amaze me, and watching him try to protect me with such obvious concern and control, was phenomenal. I basked in his care and worry, even as I knew I had to clear my conscience too.
"Ben," I said softly.
"No fuckin' way, Abi," he replied, his eyes pleading with me not to do this.
"Did you give evidence against
her
?" I asked and watched his face shut down. It hurt, that he wanted to push me out like that, but I understood. The pain cut too deep. "I've got to do this," I explained. "He hurt her, because of me. It wasn't my fault, but I feel that guilt every day. This will make it better."
He shook his head, the mask slipping. I caught a glimpse of utter agony cross his face.
"It doesn't," he whispered.
"What?" I asked, unsure exactly what he meant.
"It doesn't make it better. It doesn't take the guilt away."
Ah shit. He had given evidence against his ex-girlfriend. And he still felt trapped by the guilt.
"I've got to try," I said on a whisper. I could hear the pain in my voice, even though the volume wasn't loud.
"Red," he said on a heavy sigh. "I'm askin' you, please don't put yourself there."
I almost caved. I almost did it just to get that look off his face. But those pictures flashed before my mind's eye. Her laughter that morning. Her smile, that she probably never used ever again after that day. I wiped that smile from her face. I changed her world. I wondered where she was now, if she lived, if she escaped? Would her family have sacrificed themselves to get her out? So that Roan McLaren couldn't do that to her again.
I looked at Detective Pierce across the table from us. He'd been watching our discussion with interest and not just a little shock. How well he knew Ben, I didn't know. But from the sounds of it, they'd worked together many times. Maybe, just like the ASI team, he'd never seen Ben like this before. With a woman. Fiercely protective. Open and in a strange way, free.
I didn't want Ben to hurt along with me, but I knew he would. He would feel my pain and it would remind him all over again of his sister's death at the hands of his ex. I didn't want that for him, but I wanted to do what was right. But what was right, was not necessarily this. If Kasey was dead, I'd do this for her, hoping it was the right thing to do. If she was alive and safe, I'd check with her first, before I dragged her into the spotlight. But how to find out if that was true? I could ask my Dad, but Pierce wasn't going to let me talk to him until this was over.
My only option was to ask Pierce himself. Could he be trusted? Ben said he was only after one thing and to hell with how he got it. I was guessing Pierce wanted justice, but the reason behind his staunch convictions was deeper than the law, I was sure. Would it cloud his judgement?
Pierce held my gaze, I'd been staring at him for a while. He didn't back down or look uncomfortable, he seemed quite at ease for me to assess him through my eyes alone.
"I need an assurance," I said. "Can I trust your word?"
Pierce flicked his eyes to Ben. "If he gives you his word, you can trust it." Ben seemed reluctant to give that information, but it let me know how much he actually did trust this man.
"If I tell you her name, you must promise not to push her. If she doesn't want this to go further, then I won't testify. If she does, I'll back her all the way. And if she didn't survive, I will help you nail his arse to the wall. I saw other things. I'm prepared to tell."
"Ah, fuck," Ben muttered to my side as Pierce's eyes glinted with anticipation.
"It all hinges on you," I said.
"If she doesn't want this to go further, what about the other evidence you can provide?" Pierce asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, hands clenched together, I think to hide his excitement at finding more dirt on Roan McLaren.
"Some of what I know is hearsay, so wasted evidence. Some are minor crimes, and I won't risk my neck for those. But some are pretty damning, and I witnessed it first-hand. Roan didn't know I was there to watch."
"Did you spy on him?" Pierce asked.
"Sometimes. Sometimes it was just bad luck. You know, wrong hiding place at the wrong time, kind of thing. But I wanted to know how he worked, what made him tick. My Dad said to study your enemy. But I don't think he meant to witness him committing crimes in order to get a better view."
"Fucking hell, she's a gold mine of information," Pierce said, looking at Ben.
"And you're a fuckin' bastard," Ben shot back without pause.
He was hating this, I could tell. It was tearing him up inside. But I'd seen things, no one should have to see. And Roan McLaren had done things, no one should get away with doing. Justice was calling, and I just had to decide if I answered that call.