The Twisted Knot (18 page)

‘Can you see him?' he asked Aiden. ‘I haven't see any lights for a while.'

Aiden sped up and then slowed down. ‘He's gone. This thing's got no guts.' He slapped the steering wheel.

‘Where would he go?' Tom asked. ‘He wouldn't be able to outrun us in a hatch.'

‘He must have turned off somewhere.' Aiden had wound back to eighty kilometres an hour, which felt positively pedestrian after the speeds they'd hit. He reached down and flicked off the light bar.

‘There's been no turn-offs,' Tom insisted. Both of them were craning their necks, left and right.

‘There's been driveways. There must have been a driveway.'

‘We would have seen the dirt kicked up. Who out here has a bitumen driveway?'

Aiden slowed right down. It was nearly as bad as going too fast. If another car came up behind them at full speed the other driver probably wouldn't have time to brake.

‘Is he in front of us or behind us?' Aiden said. ‘Did he trick us? Do we need to turn around?'

‘Fuck. Just pull over.'

Tom grabbed the radio. ‘VKR, this is 320. We have terminated that pursuit.'

‘Received that.'

Tom guessed his mobile would start ringing any second now. No one wanted to put this sort of nitty-gritty over the radio.

51

She sat in the dark with her eyes closed. Listening. She could hear the ticking of the car engine, as if it was tut-tutting at her for what she'd put it through. She couldn't outrun police, even if they were in a clunky paddy wagon. How could she even be in a
car chase
with
police
?

She struggled to keep her rising sense of panic in check as she heard the police car approach. It sounded like the roar of a freight train cutting through the night air.
Keep going
, she prayed. She clutched the steering wheel and held her breath. To keep her nerve, she thought of the reasons she was in this bizarre and dangerous situation. Conjured a young girl's face with an innocent smile.

And then they zoomed past. The police car rushed onwards, not even a dip in the acceleration as they passed her hiding spot. She breathed once, deeply, before twisting the keys to start her car again. She pulled back out onto the road, in the opposite direction now. This made it even more ridiculous – she'd been in a
car chase
with
police
and she'd
won
!

Adrenaline gave way to the shakes. She gripped the steering wheel tighter. Sweat was dripping from her forehead and seeping from the palms of her hands, soaking her gloves. Again, she wiped her hands along the thighs of her jeans, carefully removing them one at a time from the wheel and replacing them again at ten and two. She felt like people were watching her from either side of the road out of the dark night, when in reality it was probably only cows and kangaroos marking her passage.

Common sense told her she was safe right at this moment. She was certain there was only one police car operating in the Angel's Crossing area during the night. And it was racing away in the opposite direction. Had they called for back-up when she had lost them? Which direction would back-up come from? How long would it take?

She took the first turn-off onto a back road. She knew where she was, knew her way around. She had an overwhelming urge to get off the main road, out of sight. If she was pulled up now, it would be the end of everything. It would be impossible to pretend she was unaware of the dead body in her boot. She had to get somewhere close, somewhere safe.

She needed someone who would understand what she had done and why. Immediately she knew where to go. She felt calmer. She quickly plotted a route in her head that would take her over the dusty back roads to safety.

52

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!' Aiden cursed as he leant his head on the steering wheel of the stationary police car. He smashed his hand against the top of the dash. ‘I hate it when they get away!'

‘It's not often you get a good pursuit anymore. I'm surprised they didn't call it off,' Tom observed.

‘Yeah . . . who was in the chair as Comco?'

As if on cue, Tom's phone started ringing.

‘Hey, it's Tom . . . nah, it was Aiden driving,' He laughed. They would already be ribbing him about losing the chase.

‘Wally,' he whispered to Aiden. Aiden grimaced.

‘We gave it a red hot go, Wal,' Tom said down the phone.

Aiden did a U-turn while Tom spoke with Sergeant Waldon. They drove back the way they had come, aware now of how much ground they had covered in the pursuit. It was hard to say exactly where their last glimpse of the other vehicle had been. Although they had both travelled up and down the highway fairly often, this time they paid close attention to every bend, every hollow. And then the question was answered.

‘Fuck!' they exclaimed in unison.

There was a small cutaway off the side of the road. It wasn't more than about fifty metres long. But the perfect place to pull off the highway and wait for the car chasing you to speed on past. No one could see you from the highway, due to a thick stand of trees. Tom and Aiden had both known it was there. It was a popular spot on night work. You could pull in there for a nap. It was also frequently used by truck drivers and road workers having a kip and at some point, someone had dumped a load of gravel to level it off.

Although they had both known it was there, neither one of them had registered it as they had gone racing past, knowing it didn't actually go anywhere. But the driver of the hatch had known about it too. He had pulled in, let the police car go screaming past, then driven out again in the other direction.

‘Local. And cool-headed. That much we know now,' Tom said.

Aiden grunted. He pulled another U-turn.

‘There's no way we'll catch them now,' he said.

Tom grabbed the radio.

‘320 to any Gympie unit.'

He got a reply from a traffic branch car and asked them to sit at the intersection at the Bruce Highway to watch for the hatch.

‘No point. A local will know all the back roads. Wouldn't be stupid enough to drive straight out to the highway.'

‘I guess we may as well head back out to Magpie Lane, check out why that guy was leaving so fast,' Tom said.

Aiden groaned. ‘I'd rather keep driving, we might get lucky and see the car again.'

‘It's gone, mate. If he's smart enough to get away from us, he's smart enough not to drive back past us again. Probably has a scanner too,' Tom said.

Aiden didn't reply, but turned the car back towards Moffatdale.

‘Wal did the rego checks. The car's not reported stolen. Not from around here, anyway. They don't seem to be false plates, the car matched. We need to send a task to Brisbane to check the owner's address.'

Aiden nodded in agreement. He yawned widely, a sure sign the adrenaline dump was over.

53

It
felt
like
this
night
had
gone
on
forever,
but
it
was
only
about
3 a.m.
when
her
headlights
fell
on
the
old
Queenslander,
standing
in
a
scraggly
garden.
It
was
a
house
on
acreage – they
kept
a
few
horses – which
meant
no
close
neighbours.

She left the headlights on full beam playing across the front of the house as she slowly drove up. She was hoping not to have to bang on the door. She got out, but left the car running. She moved in front of the car, so the beam of the headlights lit her up, revealing her identity. The front door swung open. A woman stood in the doorway in a dressing gown. The driver walked up the verandah stairs and whispered.

‘I need help.'

She stood on the top stair, not sure how this encounter would proceed.

‘I've got Peter Woodford in the boot,' she said, gesturing at the car. She hoped the black hoodie and gloves and sweat helped fill in some of the picture.

The other woman stared at her in disbelief. ‘I'm not dreaming, am I?' she asked.

‘No. I'm really here with Pete the Ped in my boot.'

The woman seemed to be quickly adapting to the strangeness of the night-time visit. ‘Well,' she finally answered. ‘I hope he's dead.'

The driver laughed, a harsh sound forced up out of her throat.

‘Yep.' She paused. ‘The cops are looking for me.'

The other woman nodded once, curtly. ‘Drive round the back to the shed,' she said, gesturing to the left of the house. She gave a loud cough, expelling the last residue of sleep. She was a farmer's daughter at heart. Practical and not easily flustered. She pointed to a large double-bay shed, detached from the house. Every farm seemed to have a variation of this.

The driver did as she was told, without comment. She left the car running. Her window was down, so the cool night air could dry some of the perspiration which was making her face gleam white in the moonlight. It would also help her hear if any other cars were coming. She heard a metallic clang from inside the shed, presumably the woman. No one else had left the dark house. That suited her. Although she wouldn't call her a friend, she knew the woman to be forthright, someone who wouldn't take any shit, someone who knew the pain.

The back door of the car was opened and she watched as the woman placed two shovels in the footwell. She climbed into the passenger's seat.

‘That way.' She pointed to a track heading towards a dark shadow in the distance, which soon turned into a stand of eucalyptus trees. She asked no questions, but the driver felt compelled to break the silence and explain herself.

‘I'm sorry to drag you into this,' she ventured.

The woman shook her head. ‘It's not a problem,' she answered, but did not make eye contact.

‘I didn't intend to involve anyone else, but the police turned up. They nearly caught me. Would you believe I outran them? In my mum's hatchback?' She laughed despite herself. ‘I had to get off the road. I was desperate. I came here because I thought you'd understand,' She spoke quietly, keeping her eyes on the dirt track in front of her.

‘I do,' the woman said, and now there was emotion in her voice. She turned to face the other woman. ‘You surprised me. But I do understand.' The expression on her face was earnest. ‘That's why there's two shovels in the back.' She turned away again and rubbed both hands over her face. ‘I should have done it myself. The least I can do is help you finish it now.'

And so it was, in the dark, quiet hours before dawn, on an obscure patch of a nondescript paddock, that two mothers dug a shallow grave.

54

It had taken nearly an hour of diversions, but Tom and Aiden finally arrived at the address they had been initially called out to. The neighbour's blue ute was parked in front of the house.

‘Poor old bugger. I reckon we aged him ten years in ten seconds. And he didn't look like he had ten to spare,' Tom said.

‘That one was on you,' Aiden replied. ‘I didn't even see his rifle. I saw you go for your gun and thought there must be a reason.'

‘Yeah, well I thought we'd found the breaker. Hope he's had a chance to slip home and change his undies anyway.'

As if on cue, the elderly neighbour appeared from around the side of the house. He had exchanged his pyjamas for clothes and had his rifle pointing backwards, resting on his shoulder. As soon as he saw the police car, he held the rifle out to the side and bent down to put it on the ground. He stood back up with his hands in the air.

‘You're right, mate,' Tom called, waving his hands down and walking towards him. He extended his hand. ‘Tom Janusch,' he said, shaking the other man's hand. ‘I'm sorry about earlier. They tell us there's someone breaking into a house down here, then I see you with that rifle through the windscreen and I just reacted.'

‘Totally understand, Tom,' the man replied. ‘Better to be safe than sorry. I wasn't coming down here without my gun though, after hearing shots.' Tom nodded. ‘Anyway, my name is Doug Waterford,' he said. ‘We live at Lot 83. We keep an eye on the place here when the Hewsons are away. I know what a gunshot sounds like,' he gestured to his weapon, ‘and there were two of them. After you guys raced off, I ducked home and got the keys to the place. I've been through the house. There's nothing disturbed there. But someone's been in the shed.'

He led the way around to a low detached shed, with a double roller door. He took them around the right-hand side where there was access through a door. He pointed to a dent on the pressed aluminium door right next to the lock. ‘Someone's smashed their way in here,' he said, then led the way inside.

The lights were on, revealing a tidy garage. There was one parked car, and a small workshop. On the floor, and around a counter with a small sink, were signs of habitation. There were some dishes next to the sink, and some open packets of food.

‘Looks like someone's been dossing here,' Doug said. ‘I've had a look through everything, but there's no clue as to who it might have been. Or why they left in such a hurry.'

‘So nothing's been disturbed in the house?' Aiden asked.

Doug shook his head. ‘No, they haven't been in the house.'

‘And nothing's been stolen here?' Aiden said.

‘Nothing obvious,' Doug said. ‘The owners would have to confirm that once they got home.'

‘So there was someone dossing here. A bit of trespass. Though there's no bedding,' Aiden observed. ‘You're certain they were gunshots?'

‘Oh, I nearly forgot,' said Doug, reaching into his pocket. He drew out a bullet casing. ‘That's from a 22,' he said. ‘I found it over there,' He pointed at a few items of clothing heaped in a pile on the floor. ‘I was looking through the clothes to see if there was any ID. It must have rolled under there.'

Tom swore under his breath. He pulled a latex glove out of a pouch on his belt. He opened it up and held it up for Doug to drop the casing into it, then tied a knot in the top of it. He had a clip-seal bag in his kit bag in the boot of their car, but this would do instead. The casing would be useless for fingerprints anyway, now that Doug had picked it up and put it in his pocket.

Doug realised his error. ‘Oh, sorry. I shouldn't have touched it, should I? I didn't want it to get lost.'

Tom shrugged it off. ‘These things happen.'

‘I could only find one. There'll be another one around somewhere. There were two gunshots,' Doug said.

Tom and Aiden exchanged glances.

‘Thanks for your help, Doug. But I need to have a word to my partner here.'

Doug said nothing, jerking his head up in a little nod before walking out the door.

Tom stepped closer to Aiden, lowering his voice in case Doug was lurking outside the door.

‘What do you make of it?' Tom asked.

Aiden slowly shook his head. ‘Do you really think shots were fired in here? It could be an old casing. Everyone's got a rifle and ammo on these farm properties. Car backfiring? Firecrackers? Everyone says “gunshots” straight away to sound important.'

‘Yeah, could be,' Tom answered. ‘But there's something odd about it all. First, someone's been living here, but where have they been sleeping? The bedding's missing. Then there's the damage to the door. Next we've got the bloke racing off in a black hoodie, black gloves, but nothing's been stolen. Did he know we were coming? Or was he finished here anyway? And he was very motivated to get away. Drove like a man possessed.'

Aiden shrugged. ‘This job's your problem, mate,' he said. ‘I'll have all the paperwork for the pursuit because I was driving. So you get the break and enter. It's only fair,' he added with a slight smirk.

‘Yeah, fair enough.' Tom sighed.

He headed back outside to talk with Doug again.

‘So definitely two gunshots?' he asked.

‘Yep. And there was some other noise a moment before that. The first noise was what woke me up. So I was awake when I heard the two shots,' he replied.

‘So it could have been three shots?' Tom asked.

‘Could have been, but I don't think so. If I had to say, I'd call the first noise a loud bang. Like someone smashing open the door of a shed,' he said, gesturing to the skewed lock on the door. ‘Then there were two gunshots. Bang – bang,' he said, demonstrating a short pause between them. ‘Though I'm just an old man, so what would I know?' He chuckled. ‘That's about all I can tell you. So is it okay if I head back to bed? I'm too old for this sort of caper. You know where to find me.'

Tom smiled. He reached out, offering his hand. ‘Thanks again for your help,' he said as they shook hands. ‘Someone from the morning crew will be in touch.'

As Doug walked off, Tom pulled out his phone. He phoned Wally again, who put the call through to Forensics to come out to the scene. He also confirmed that the district duty officer had been advised. There was always a DDO on duty, a senior sergeant who supervised and gave advice as needed.

Aiden had returned to their car and was sitting in the passenger's seat. Tom leant on the open door. ‘They're getting Jeremy out of bed. I guess the question is – was the bloke we chased the same person who had been dossing here? Or did the bloke we chased make the person dossing here disappear?'

Aiden smiled. ‘Glad I was driving tonight. This is turning into a shit job. All yours, mate. Wake me up when it's time to go.' He put his feet up on the dashboard, folded his arms across his chest, and rested his head backwards with his eyes shut.

Tom grunted and walked back to the shed. He surveyed the interior and tried to concentrate on what was missing rather than what was there. The dishes, clothes and food packets were out of place in the otherwise neat workshop. He pulled his gloves on and gently turned over the pile of clothing. There didn't seem to be any ID around. Where was the wallet, phone and car keys? Actually, where was the car? Whoever was staying here wouldn't have been on foot. Was the white hatch the only car involved? There was no sign that the car parked in the shed had been tampered with. Although it was unlocked, there was no damage to the ignition.

Tom did a lap of the main house but it was all locked up and there were no signs of anything out of the ordinary there. That would be a job for the morning crew. They could get the keys from Doug and check the house in the morning. He continued to poke around the shed until Jeremy from Forensics arrived. He was grumpy and had very little to say for himself.

‘Really? I got hauled out of bed for a break?' he queried.

‘It's going to be more than a break and enter. There were gunshots heard and there's a lot of unanswered questions,' Tom replied. ‘We need to find out who was staying here for a start.'

Jeremy took photos of the smashed door and the interior of the shed. He conducted an extensive but futile search for fingerprints on the door and jamb. He did find fingerprints on the bench inside and took swabs for DNA. There was no blood and the second bullet casing was not found.

‘Thanks for coming out,' Tom said.

‘Angel's Crossing is turning into a hotbed of crime at the moment. What with the suicide which might be murder, and now gunshots and pursuits in the middle of the night,' Jeremy said.

‘Oh, did someone tell you?' Tom said. ‘They think the bloke in the shed was mis-identified. It looks like it was actually the brother of the guy they initially thought it was.'

‘Really? If we've got his prints we can run them against the ones we found on the note.'

‘That would be great. I'll email you his details,' Tom said.

‘I'll do it tomorrow.' Jeremy checked his watch. ‘Actually, it's today now. But in the morning. I mean later in the morning. After the sun's up.'

Tom checked his watch. ‘It's nearly time for me to get to bed too. Thanks again.'