The Twisted Knot (22 page)

64

Later, even once she was safe at her mother's house, Belinda still couldn't rest. Her mum had taken Nicola out to a playground so it was quiet in the house. She needed to sleep but there was no chance of that.

It was done. But she kept turning it over in her mind. All in all, it had gone to plan. Except for the police turning up. She allowed herself a small smile as she thought about the cutaway off the road. More had gone right than wrong.

She had parked her car away from the house in Moffatdale, as described by Faye in her letter, and walked up, dressed all in black. She had bought some cheap black joggers from Kmart especially for this foray. She had decided against a balaclava, but wore a jumper with a hood to pull over her hair. If possible, she wanted him to see her, to recognise her. Preferably when he was staring down the barrel of Barry's rifle.

And that's what had happened. She had experienced a small sense of satisfaction when she had seen the flash of recognition on his face after the first shot and before the second. She thought she had seen regret. But she had wanted to see it, or something like it. He had said nothing though. If he had even breathed the word ‘sorry', it would have made it harder. It wouldn't have changed the outcome, but maybe twanged a chord of guilt which had yet to surface. But he didn't. She had to shoot him again regardless.

That was the other part that didn't go the way she wanted. He was supposed to die immediately after the first shot. She had wanted him to die instantly. Not as a point of mercy. Just so he didn't leave a puddle of blood for her to clean up. The longer he lingered, the more blood would leak out of him. She had googled it on the free internet at the library. She had searched in relation to shooting animals and all the sites talked about bleeding the animal out for the meat. So she had attempted to apply common sense. Aim for the heart. If the heart stopped beating, there would be no more blood pumping around the body.

Then she had googled how to break into a house. Faye had been kind enough to describe the shed and Belinda had a rough guess as to what sort of lock it had on it. She had taped a small LED torch to the top of the rifle, and acquired a sledgehammer, a tarp and a large carry bag. She had stolen number plates to put on her mother's car. She had made a list of the things she needed to do before she left. She did not want to rely on her memory in such a stressful situation. So she had written a list: clean up, find the empty bullet casing, find his wallet and any paperwork that might identify him. If no one knew he was there, then no one would know he was missing. She did not allow herself enough time to completely wipe out every trace that he had been there. It would be enough that there was nothing to identify who it was. She had got out in the nick of time as it was. She was grateful for taking all the little precautions.

Before the murder, she had lain awake night after night, precisely as she was doing now. But now she was re-hashing the scene, looking for mistakes. One had leapt out at her immediately. She had only found the casing for one of the two bullets she had fired. Her list had said to find the bullet casing – and she had ticked that off. She had found a bullet casing. But she had shot twice. She had forgotten the second casing. It certainly wasn't anywhere obvious – she would have seen it and remembered.

There was also the matter of Pete's car. She had no idea where it was. He had done his own part in the disappearing act and hidden his car. Who knew what the police would make of it if it turned up somewhere? There was absolutely nothing to connect her to it though. She pushed the matter out of her mind. There were enough other things to worry about.

One of the things that had gone right was that he was sleeping in a swag. A waterproof bedroll. She had hardly needed the tarp. He had been sleeping on the open swag and it had been a simple matter to zip it up, right over the top of his blank eyes. When she rolled the whole package onto the tarp, there was no blood underneath it. The bullet had not gone right through him. The bedding had stayed intact and had absorbed everything. It had been a simple matter to drag him out to the car on the tarp. It had been slightly harder to hoist him into the boot, but she had persevered because there was no other option.

The boot had been prepared for its grisly cargo. It had been meticulously lined with plastic sheeting, purchased in bulk from the hardware store. After Peter had been hauled into his shallow grave, with the layers of plastic wrapped around him, there was absolutely no sign that a corpse had taken its final ride in the back of her mother's Mazda.

The plastic lining had served a dual purpose. Belinda had folded the plastic around him as best as she could. She had twisted off the ends like a giant lolly wrapper. When Wendy had come to help lift the corpse out of the boot, it didn't look like a dead body. There were no draping limbs or glazed eyes. They could pretend it was anything. A Turkish rug, a bag of manure. They had each grabbed an end and dumped him into the hole they'd dug. He wasn't even that heavy between two of them. And then it was done. The earth smoothed over. A shallow grave for a shallow man.

65

It took two bosses to sign off before the trip to Brisbane was approved. But here they were, Sammi and Terry in the CIB car driving off to mix it up in the big city. Shane had been quick to agree that Sammi could go. He seemed pleased that she was keen on heading out. And Sammi suspected he was still feeling guilty about the day he'd taken off when Kayleen and Wendy had turned up to the station. She was sure he hadn't realised that this was her first trip back to Brisbane since the court case. She kept that tucked away, not even reminding herself. She focused on the job at hand.

Terry had gained permission from Gympie since his direct boss was still on holidays. They had wanted to send a detective down with him, lend some experience to the case, but he had explained they were meeting up with Janine. Her name was known; her reputation had stretched that far. Sammi doubted whether Terry had mentioned that Janine was only assisting them with the warrant. If she was asked, Sammi was sure Janine would help with the interview but she had the feeling that's not what Terry wanted.

‘I don't need a friggin' babysitter,' he said to Sammi. ‘Do you?'

She laughed. ‘No, the meds are working, I'm good.' It was only half a joke.

‘They'll want to take the pinch off me,' he said. ‘Some detective with twenty years experience will snaffle it out from underneath me. Not many murder pinches floating around. Well, it's not happening. I've done the work. I didn't see them out there, contending with maggots and bodily fluids.'

It was clear to Sammi that Terry was allowing her to come along because she was no threat to him. He knew that she would not be telling him what to do, would not try to take over the investigation. That was fine by her. She was happy to assist. It had been a long time since she had been so involved in an investigation and she was simply pleased to be doing something that equated to meaningful work. ‘Janine could still sit in on the interview with you,' she said to Terry. ‘She's got her hands full, she's not interested in cutting your grass. She'd be good to have in the interview.'

Terry shrugged. ‘See how we go. We have to find Belinda first.'

Sammi left it at that. It was Terry's job.

‘So how long have you been at Angel's Crossing now?' she asked.

‘About six months.'

‘Is that all? Feels like you've been around a lot longer.'

‘I have a way of endearing myself to people,' he said with a winsome smile.

‘So what do you think of the town?'

‘I like it. My wife's happy, she's made some friends already. Good crew. But the last week's been a bit of a wild ride. I've never lived in a small town before. I grew up on the Goldie. And I've really seen the downside of a small community this last week. Everybody knows everybody else's business. Everyone seems to be somehow tied to everyone else.'

‘It's been extreme this week,' Sammi agreed. ‘Sometimes you can use it to your advantage, but other times it can be an untamed monster.'

‘Strange times in the strange town with a strange name.'

‘No one's told you the story about how Angel's Crossing got its name?' Sammi asked.

‘No. Let me guess. Once there was an angel and it got cross. And it cursed the town.'

‘Not quite.' It was a long story, but it was also a long trip. It was a yarn she loved and it was hard to find people who hadn't heard it.

‘It's a pretty neat story, I'm surprised no one's told you yet. It used to be called Wessling's Crossing, after a family who lived in the area when it was more farms than town. The ‘Crossing' part of the name is because of where the railway tracks cross the highway south of town.'

‘Oh, yeah, I know where you mean.'

‘But the “Angel” part is the interesting bit of the story. Years ago, an old woman who was living with her son on one of the farms wandered off in the middle of the night. She had dementia or something similar. Anyway, she got collected by a freight train. No one knew if she sat down on the tracks because she was confused or whether she wanted to end it all because of the dementia. Her death was very quick. And very messy, I imagine.' Sammi looked out the window. She had been to a suicide by train one time. They needed buckets instead of a body bag.

‘A few years later, there was a road accident at the big bend before the train crossing. A cattle truck rolled over. The driver was trapped and the cattle that survived escaped from the truck and were wandering up the road. When people arrived at the scene, everyone focused on helping the driver. No one paid any attention to the cows until they heard the screech of a train's emergency brakes. It takes a long time to pull up a speeding freight train so everyone thought that by the time the driver saw the cows on the track, there'd be no way he would have had time to stop. Everyone's expecting a big crash. But the train stops a couple of metres before the first cow.'

Terry was completely engaged now, nodding and glancing across as he drove.

‘The train driver gets out. He's shaking, he knows how close he came to a major crash. He keeps saying thanks for sending someone up the track to signal him to stop. And it's not till after the confusion has died down that people realise no one had been sent up the tracks. So they ask the driver – who did he see? He describes an old woman wearing white holding her hand up as a stop signal. But there's no old women at the crash site. Then someone remembers the old lady who had been killed years earlier. She had been dressed in a white nightgown. And she had died at the same spot the driver had seen the old woman.' Sammi could feel the skin at the back of her neck prickle as she got caught up in the story.

‘They explained it all to the train driver. “That was a ghost. You saw a ghost,” they told him. And he said, “That was no ghost. That was an angel. She saved my life.” The story talked itself around pretty quickly and all the train drivers started calling it Angel's Crossing. The name stuck. And was eventually made official.'

Terry laughed. ‘That's pretty cool. Yeah, everyone loves a good ghost story.'

‘An angel, not a ghost,' Sammi said.

‘Do you believe in ghosts? Or angels?' Terry asked.

‘Yep.' She left it at that. She had her own personal angels keeping watch. In her dark hours, if she could turn in on herself, she could feel them, draw on their memories. It wasn't something she talked about. It was her own private source of strength when she needed it most.

They drove in silence, each engrossed in their own thoughts.

‘So . . .' Terry ventured. ‘Your court case finished, didn't it?'

‘Yes.'

‘Someone told me it was a piss-weak sentence.'

‘Yes.'

‘He won't get out though, will he?'

‘No. He's been charged with two of the other murders now. So it's beside the point what he got for what he did to me. Basically they were just charges to hold him while they got together the evidence for the murders. Janine's doing an awesome job. It's pretty much all she's worked on since the day I was abducted.' Sammi was uncomfortable talking about it. Not only because she didn't know Terry that well, but because she needed to move forward from the abduction. Sometimes she felt sorry for Janine. She had been immersed in the details of the case for such a long time. But she worked at it with an unwavering tenacity. Sammi had nothing but respect for her, as a police officer as well as a person.

‘You'll like Janine. She's someone you can count on.'

Sammi was looking forward to seeing her again.

66

About three hours and a stop at Inala CIB later, Sammi and Terry, along with Janine and the general officers, pulled up at an intersection around the corner from Belinda's mother's house. Jocelyn Gardell was her name according to the police records. The officers were in two cars, both unmarked but still obviously police cars if you knew what you were looking for. They were relying on the element of surprise. They wanted to make sure they weren't observed until the two generals officers Janine had brought along had a chance to sneak down the sides of the house to stop Belinda escaping out the back door. By the looks of her, she had no chance of out-running any one of them, but they'd learnt not to underestimate Belinda.

They had a quick meeting at the corner.

‘Andy, you go down the left, Trev, you go right. Their dog's probably around but it's only small,' Terry added.

Trev grunted and unclipped the holster that held his capsicum spray.

‘Belinda's not violent as such,' Sammi said. ‘I don't even think she'll run. She doesn't look like much of an athlete anyway.'

Terry gave her a withering look. ‘She might have seemed fine when you were chatting to her at parties,' he said, ‘but she is wanted on murder. There's your clue that she can be violent when she chooses.' His sarcasm had an edge to it – a flash of nerves before the start of an important job.

Andy half-smiled, but drew his face together again quickly as if worried he may receive a rebuke from someone for not taking this seriously.

Despite the inherent unknowns waiting behind the door for them, Sammi was not anxious. It wasn't like busting into a druggie's house looking for someone on a return to prison warrant. This was Nicola's nanna's house.

The five of them walked up the street to number six. Sammi could see the white Mazda hatch parked in the driveway. As soon as they reached the edge of the property, the generals boys peeled off and dashed down each side of the house. Janine stood at the corner of the property, so she could see along the side of the house and into the backyard, as well as to the front door in case anything happened at either end of the house. Terry had given a clear description of Belinda at the briefing. They all knew who they were looking for.

Sammi and Terry strode up to the front door. Terry knocked but didn't announce himself. Sammi cupped a hand against the glass of a window next to the front door and looked in on a small bedroom. There was a stuffed bunny on the bed and a colouring book and pencils strewn on the floor. She suddenly felt very sad. A lump rose to her throat. Here was another emotional scar for that poor little girl. Depending how this turned out, she might see her mother dragged out to the police car in handcuffs. Sammi swallowed hard, regretting something that had yet to happen. She was here. Maybe she could help make this less traumatic.

Terry knocked again, louder and for longer. Sammi could see movement through the open door of the bedroom and nodded to Terry. She stepped back so she was next to the front door, slightly behind Terry.

It was quite obvious that the woman who opened the door was Belinda's mother. She was larger, wider than her daughter. Where Belinda looked solid and broad, this woman looked obese. But she had the same ruddy complexion and broad cheekbones. There was no mistaking the family resemblance.

‘Hello,' she said, a note of resignation in her voice. She didn't appear surprised to see them. She stood squarely in the doorway, feet slightly apart, weight balanced, blocking their passage in.

‘Mrs Gardell? Sammi Willis and Terry Cousens from the police.' Terry was holding his badge at eye-level as he spoke. His words were rushed. ‘You know why we're here. We're looking for Belinda.'

Sammi could see a small face framed with brown hair watching them from around a door frame further down the hallway. She considered waving to her, but thought better of it. There was something about Nicola that swelled the mothering instinct within her. Belinda would be here. She would not be too far from her little girl.

‘We have reasonable suspicion that Belinda Woodford is staying here. Under Police Powers and Responsibilities Act Section 21, we have the power to enter here without your consent to search for Belinda,' Terry said. Sammi knew Terry's digital recorder was running and this was going to be all done by the book.

The woman glanced over her shoulder. She noticed Nicola peeking around the door and made a gesture like she was swatting at a fly. The little face disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Jocelyn showed no sign of moving out of the doorway, instead shifting her considerable weight so she stood smack bang in the middle of the opening. Sammi and Terry, both pushing together, would have had trouble moving this woman.

‘Sorry, I don't want to be difficult, but can you explain that to me again? If you're going to come into my house, don't you need a warrant or something?' Jocelyn asked, slowly, politely. She was stalling. She was doing what she could to give her daughter time to get away. Sammi wondered if she realised there were three more police officers around the house. There was no way out for Belinda.

‘No, we don't need a warrant in this case. If you let us in, we'll explain it all to you.' Terry took a step into the woman's personal space. She didn't back away.

‘Don't I get to have a lawyer present?' the woman asked. Again, she glanced over her shoulder.

‘You need to move out of our way or you will be arrested for obstructing a police officer in the course of their duties. We've got officers surrounding the house. Belinda can't get away,' Terry stood eye to eye with the woman. There was a murder pinch on the line. He meant business.

Slowly, Jocelyn took a step backwards and to the side, clearing the doorway. She surely did not want to be arrested. Someone would need to look after Nicola if they found Belinda. Sammi bustled through, working her way to the back of the house so she could find the generals crew and see if they had intercepted Belinda running out the back door. Janine was hot on her heels.

Andy was at the back door, and Sammi could see Trev in the backyard, opening up a small garden shed. Sammi unlocked the back door and let Andy in. He immediately started the search.

‘Hey,' Sammi hissed at him. He stopped, enthusiastic like a retriever on a rabbit hunt. ‘Don't scare the little girl,' she said softly.

He nodded, wound his facial expression from excited back to professional interest.

Trev approached the door. ‘Backyard's all clear,' he said. ‘There's a garage around the side, but there's no way out of it, except the roller door which is shut.'

‘Okay, thanks,' said Sammi. ‘Can you watch the back door, please. And don't freak out the little girl,' she added. Then she moved to join the search inside the house. They fanned out through the house, each taking an extremity and moving in towards the middle. It was an orderly, well-kept house and there were only a limited number of possible hiding places.

Andy reported back in. ‘I gave the garage a quick check, but we need to go through it properly. There's probably a few hiding places there.'

‘Is there a car in the garage?' Sammi asked.

‘Yep. A black Santa Fe.'

‘She's here,' Sammi said to Janine.

They stopped at the laundry. It was the only room in the house where things weren't in order. There were clothes strewn all over the floor and a washing basket lying on its side. Janine and Sammi contemplated it.

‘Looks like someone's knocked the basket over,' Janine noted. She looked around the small room. ‘Probably from off the washing machine,' she said. ‘Someone who was in a hurry and didn't have a chance to pick them up again.' She opened the door to a small linen press, but it was lined with shelves that only a child would be able to curl up on. As Sammi looked up to the top shelf, something caught her eye.

She pointed up to the ceiling. ‘Manhole,' she remarked. ‘If someone climbed onto the washing machine, it might be possible for them to haul themselves up through the manhole into the ceiling cavity. Someone strong and fit and limber.' Sammi doubted she would be able to do it without help.

Janine shook her head. ‘You'd have to be some sort of Russian gymnast to be able to chin press up through there by yourself,' she said.

Terry joined them and regarded the laundry carefully. There was a small brown smudge on the lid of the washing machine. ‘We've drawn a blank everywhere else,' he said.

They all looked up at the manhole, calculating.

‘Andy,' Janine called. He poked his head around the door.

‘Would you be able to climb up through the manhole? We need to check it out.'

Andy considered it, looking at the washing machine and the height of the ceiling. ‘That'll be tough. Is there a ladder? Or maybe I could boost one of you flyweights up.'

Everyone looked at Sammi. She was clearly the lightest officer present.

‘All right,' she said. She had a fleeting thought about spiders as she unconsciously checked for the torch on her utility belt. She climbed up onto the washing machine. Andy stood in the gap between her and the manhole cover. He guided her booted foot onto his shoulder and she tried to keep the majority of her weight on the foot resting on the washing machine. She steadied herself on his hand as she levered the manhole cover up and pushed it to the side.

‘Ready?' she asked Andy.

‘Yeah, come on,' he said. She shifted her weight and pushed up onto the foot resting on his shoulder. She grabbed inside the manhole and pulled herself up, with Andy assisting her as best he could from underneath. She hauled herself in, throwing her weight forward and kicking her legs out. She felt her left foot strike something.

‘Ow,' Andy muttered.

‘Sorry,' Sammi called down as she wriggled into the ceiling cavity. Her face grazed against the rough unfinished timber of the beams and she sneezed as she disturbed a layer of dust sitting on the gyprock. There was surely no way anyone could swing themselves up here without a ladder or a shoulder to stand on. Sammi reached for her belt and plucked her torch out of its holster. She first flashed it around where she was crouching, checking for creepy crawlies. Then she did a quick scan around her, lighting up beams and electrical wires draped with cobwebs, dust motes hanging suspended in the beam of her torch. She swung the torch right and left. To her left, close enough to give her a fright, was a figure, crouched under the pitch of the roof.

Belinda.

The light flashed white against her face and Belinda's eyes lit up eerily, like an animal's.

Sammi took a sharp intake of breath that made her cough in the thick air. She dropped the beam slightly, so it was no longer blinding her quarry. They locked eyes. Belinda put her finger up to her lips in a shushing movement. For a second that felt like a minute, Sammi considered pretending she hadn't seen her and climbing back down through the manhole. This woman had suffered enough.

‘You all right up there, Sammi?' Janine called.

She was a copper.

‘Shit, you scared the life out of me,' Sammi exclaimed, the adrenaline surge increasing the volume of her voice.

Belinda sighed resignedly.

Sammi peered back down into the laundry.

‘She's here,' she reported to the crowd of upturned faces.

Sammi took a deep breath and turned back, composing herself. ‘It's over now, Belinda,' she said quietly.

Belinda lowered her face, and shook her head slightly.

‘There's four other coppers down there. There's no way out. Please don't try anything stupid,' Sammi said.

‘Don't do this,' Belinda whispered. ‘I don't care about me. Don't do this to my daughter.'

‘You okay?' Terry's voice called from below.

‘Yep. All good,' Sammi replied.

‘D'you need help?' Terry called.

Sammi looked at Belinda again. ‘Have you got any weapons on you?' Belinda shook her head and Sammi believed her.

‘No,' she called back down to Terry.

‘I didn't expect to find you,' Sammi said. They regarded each other for a moment, both breathing a bit heavier than normal. ‘How the hell did you get up here, Belinda?'

‘I didn't think you'd look up here. It was because I knocked over the washing baskets, wasn't it?'

‘Yeah. But did you really get up here by yourself?' Sammi asked. ‘Or was there some ladder we didn't see?'

‘No, I just jumped up from the washing machine.'

‘Really?' Sammi asked, impressed by the feat of agility and strength.

‘Come on, Sammi. I don't need to explain to you how much an adrenaline surge can account for.'

Sammi acknowledged the comment with a small nod of her head but didn't answer.

‘You know what desperation feels like, don't you? You know about injustice. What it feels like when you ask yourself again and again – “Why me?”,' Belinda said in a low voice.

Sammi knew she should stop this conversation, take charge of the situation, arrest the woman and direct her out. But Belinda was right. Part of Sammi was on her side. Part of her had hoped they wouldn't find Belinda.

‘I can't . . .' Sammi said. ‘I have to . . .'

Belinda held her gaze. It felt intimate in the dark enclosed space.

‘Come on,' Sammi said. ‘There's no other way now.'

Belinda made no move.

‘Please don't make me climb over there. It'll end with one of us going through the ceiling,' Sammi said. ‘You can't get away. You know that.'

Belinda remained motionless, crouched on one beam and holding onto another one that ran at an angle to the high point of the cavity. Her eyes bored into Sammi with an unspoken plea. Sammi considered what to say next.

Belinda gave a little groan. ‘Shit, I think my knee has seized up,' she said. The tension eased. Belinda shifted her weight, lowering her bottom onto the beam she was crouching on. She tried to straighten her right leg out.