Thin Blood (17 page)

She hung back,
keeping the Toyota in sight but not breaking any speed limits. Until she
decided what her next move should be, she didn’t want to draw any undue
attention her way. Then, in the split second it took to change radio stations,
the unmarked police vehicle vanished from sight. With the exception of a small,
red car coming toward her on the other side, the road was empty.

While her Nissan
Pulsar was no match for his Toyota Land Cruiser, unless he had been called to
an emergency, he couldn’t have gone far. She pressed her foot to the floor,
once again demanding her little car’s all. Her frown deepened with each passing
kilometre.

She heard him
before she saw him, the ear-splitting sound of a siren from out of nowhere
startling her. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, she saw flashing lights inside
the white 4-wheel drive, the driver signing her to pull over. She cursed,
slowed the car and indicated, looking for a safe place to stop. She could
ill-afford a speeding ticket.

The police
vehicle parked behind her. She held her breath, watching in the side-mirror as
the door opened, exhaling in a loud huff as Daniel stepped out.

“Hello again,”
he said, leaning down into her window. “Do you realise what speed you were
doing?”

“Yes… no…” she
spluttered, unable to read anything in his deadpan expression. Surely, he
wouldn’t.

“Let’s call it a
warning this time.” His face softened slightly, moving from cop to real person.
“Come on, Jacinta, out with it. Tell me what is so important that you had to
tail me.”

“I’m entitled to
use this road as much as you.”

He cocked an
eyebrow at her and waited.

“All right,
then, I confess.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “So far you haven’t
exactly delivered on your promises. How do you expect me to trust you?”

Both eyebrows
rose then. “Jacinta, we’re both professionals. You and I both know it’s not as
simple as that. I might not have told you all you want to know, but I swear I
have not knowingly lied to you.”

“Surely there
must be something you can tell me.”

“I can tell you
there will be a press conference later today.”

“I won’t be
there.”

Daniel narrowed
his eyes, holding her gaze in a steely grip. “Come to dinner tomorrow night.”

Her jaw dropped,
his unexpected request flooring her.

“Bring Brett
with you. It’ll just be a family dinner – Wendy, the boys and I, Brett and you.
Nothing fancy.”

Unable to find
the right words, her mouth opened and closed like a fish gulping air. She felt
torn in two. Half of her wanted to keep her stepbrother at a safe distance; the
other half craved what he was offering: to be part of a family again. Hoping
she wasn’t being taken in by the same magnetic Lassiter charms that had sucked
in her mother, she nodded, before adding a quick disclaimer. “I’ll have to
check with Brett first, though.”

With something
close to relief in his eyes, he smiled down at her.

“Now about this
press conference,” she said, before he could say anything else. “Since I won’t
be there, how about a sneak preview? Off the record, of course,” she added.

“First, I have
to know what your interest in this case is. If you remember, you told me that
you’d given up on journalism as a career.”

“Of course I
remember,” she snapped, annoyed by his oblique insinuation that she might have
been making up stories. “I only came out here as a favour to my old editor. And
yes, I have a personal interest, too, as you very well know. Narelle Croswell
is a friend.”

He laughed.
“Keep your hair on. I do have something I can share with you. I’ve just found
out about it myself, so don’t go thinking I’ve been keeping it back just to
annoy you.” He then proceeded to tell her what she had already picked up while
eavesdropping.

“What about the
bones you found today? Is it possible they could be Kirsty Edmonds’?” Although
the skeletal remains found a week ago had proved not to be Narelle’s sister, it
didn’t rule out the possibility that she had been a victim of the same killer.

“Anything’s
possible, but she’s only one of many possibilities. You know as much as I do.
And Jacinta…” His face was serious.

“Yes?”

He grinned. “We
also found kangaroo bones.”

When the two little, round faces
appeared in the downstairs window of the flat-roofed, brick two-storey house,
Jacinta’s heart did a flip, the bottle of Pinot Noir almost slipping from her
grip. Trying hard to smile, she lifted her hand, waggling her fingers in a
timid wave. The two dark-haired boys continued to stare at her until the taller
one, poking out his tongue, pulled the other back from the window. She laughed
but it came out more like a snort.

“Ready, then?”
asked Brett, taking the bottle of wine from her hands.

“As ready as
I’ll ever be.” Reminiscent of her first date, her stomach had been in knots
from the minute Daniel had invited her and Brett to dinner. And like that date,
she didn’t know what to expect. But unlike that date, she had Brett there for
moral support. Taking a deep breath, she took a step forward before looking
down at her hands. “Oh shit! I’ve forgotten the flowers.”

“You mean these
flowers,” Brett said, tilting his head at the large bunch of brightly coloured
gerberas nestling in the crook of his left arm.

She sighed,
feeling some of the tension ease from her body. “Thanks, Brett,” she whispered
as she took the flowers from him. “What would I do without you?”

Giving her an
encouraging smile, he opened the low iron gate and waved her through. Before
she had a chance to change her mind, the Lassiter family’s front door opened.
Daniel’s broad frame filled the narrow doorway, the two faces from the window
now peeking out from behind his jean-clad legs.

Jacinta
swallowed hard and took a step and then another. Feeling like she was wearing
boots of concrete, she made her way up the short path to the house. As Daniel
stepped forward, she thrust the bunch of flowers at him, warding off any
physical contact.

Brett frowned
and then, with a sidelong glance at Jacinta, extended his hand to Daniel.
“Brett Rhodes.”

She had
forgotten that even though Brett and Daniel knew of each other, they had never
actually met. Mortified by her lapse in etiquette, she interjected with a hasty
introduction.

Then it was
Daniel’s turn. “This,” he said, planting his free hand on top of the older
boy’s head, “is Flynn, and this young rascal,” he stepped sideways, twisting to
reveal the toddler clinging to his leg, “is Liam.”

Jacinta guessed
Flynn’s age at around four or five years old, with Liam twelve to eighteen
months younger. Both boys had inherited their father’s wide mouth and wavy dark
hair, but Flynn’s deep brown eyes were in stark contrast to the startling blue
of his younger brother’s. Daniel’s broad grin and the way his face softened
when he looked at his sons revealed one proud father.

“Come through.
Wendy’s in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to the salad, and then
it’s over to me.”

Jacinta’s eyes
widened. She hadn’t imagined her stepbrother would cook. His father certainly
never had.

“I’m no gourmet
chef,” Daniel said, laughing at her expression, “but I can burn sausages on the
barbie with the best of them.”

As they followed
him through the air-conditioned house, Jacinta unconsciously looked for clues
to the sort of man he had become. The sparsely but elegantly furnished formal
lounge room at the front of the house had an empty feeling to it, as if merely
for show. The real home lay beyond.

Daniel led them
toward the back of the house in the direction in which the boys had scampered.
Over the light jazz playing in the background, she heard the rat-a-tat-tat of a
knife against board. The chopping paused, the soft tones of a woman’s voice
mingling with little boy laughs and squeals.

An entire wall
in the expansive open-plan living area had been devoted to framed family
photographs and collages of crayon and paint artworks. Under a window, the artists
busied themselves, emptying a massive wooden box crammed with every toy
imaginable.

Wendy Lassiter,
her glossy auburn hair loosely tied back from her face, joined them just as a
tug of war with a miniature red plastic guitar looked to be developing. She
stepped in, rescuing the toy from imminent destruction and, with a grin as
broad as her husband’s, turned to Jacinta. “I’m so pleased you could make it.
Isn’t it wonderful that you and Daniel have found each other again after all
this time?”

Jacinta stretched
her mouth into what she hoped was a convincing smile and murmured something
about a small world. Even though she had no reason to do so, she felt ill at
ease. She looked to Brett for back-up, but he and Daniel were already deep in
conversation about football.

Wendy’s warm
fingers grazed the back of Jacinta’s hand. “It’s okay, I know how hard this
must be for you,” she whispered, her voice soft and caressing. “Drinks time, I
think.”

Accepting a
chilled glass of white wine, Jacinta placed another mental tick next to
Daniel’s name. Not only did he have a family that so obviously adored him, he
also didn’t keep secrets from his wife. She leaned against the bench, sipping
the wine, and watched as Wendy squeezed oranges. Unless she had been told,
Jacinta would have never realised Wendy was pregnant, her loose white linen
shirt and short denim skirt covering the slight swelling.

Wendy’s bump
brought Narelle to mind. How was she coping? How had she and Craig taken the
news that the human remains weren’t Kirsty’s? Not wanting to crowd her, Jacinta
had left it up to Narelle to contact her. However, with no word in two days,
Jacinta decided the time limit on her good intentions was up. Phone call or no
phone call, she intended visiting her the next day.

As Wendy poured
the freshly squeezed orange juice into one glass and two plastic tumblers, two
pairs of small hands appeared out of nowhere from below the kitchen bench,
spiriting away the tumblers on offer.

With cold beers
in hand and ensconced in two large Aztec-patterned armchairs near the toy box,
Brett and Daniel’s animated discussion continued unabated. Another tick? Brett
certainly seemed to be getting on with Daniel. Leaving them to it, Jacinta
followed Wendy outside to the rear brick-paved courtyard.

Under the
vine-covered pergola, sipping her wine and soaking in the late summer
balminess, Jacinta soon found her guard relaxing. Wendy did most of the
talking, her passion for both her job as a legal aid solicitor and her family
evident. Making no mention of the past, she asked open-ended questions,
allowing Jacinta to reveal as little or as much as she cared to.

Daniel announced
his arrival as, balancing a large square earthenware dish piled high with raw
meat and sliced onion rings in one hand and a beer in the other, he pushed
through the swing door from the kitchen. ‘Help Wanted’ declared the big, bold,
white letters splashed across the front of his long, blue apron. Jacinta
couldn’t help smiling. If the crew tagging along behind him — consisting of
Flynn carrying a pair of tongs, Liam with a plastic spoon, and Brett with a
six-pack of beer — was anything to go by, he needed more than help.

The wine,
together with the warm evening air, on top of her pent-up stress, soon went to
Jacinta’s head. By the time dinner was nearly ready, she felt flushed and
decidedly tiddly. Excusing herself, she went in search of the bathroom.

Vowing to switch
to water, she sat down on the toilet and closed her eyes. She savoured the
chilled air-conditioned air and took long, slow breaths. She heard footsteps,
Daniel’s voice and then a door closing. Instinctively, she pressed her ear up
against the wall, clearly hearing her stepbrother’s side of a phone
conversation.

“Are you sure?”

Pause.

“Yes, well,
that’s not enough. We need to be 110 percent sure on this one. Pull all the old
case notes and check his statements again. Look for anything that might link
him to these murders, but I don’t want him alerted. Not yet.”

A longer pause.

“So ballistics
are confident that the two bullets recovered could lead to the identity of the
weapon used?”

Another pause.

“Okay. Keep me
updated.”

Jacinta held her
breath, waiting until she could no longer hear footsteps before opening the
door, and walking straight into Daniel. She averted her gaze, her face flushing
as she tried to dodge him.

He caught her by
the shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “Once a journalist, always a
journalist?”

“It’s not like
that,” she said, shaking her head. “I was already in the bathroom, and the
walls are so thin…”

Daniel sighed
and dropped his hands from her shoulders. “You’re right. I’d forgotten you had
come inside when I got the call. However–” he took a breath, “what you
overheard is highly confidential and can’t leave these four walls. Do you
understand that?”

Jacinta nodded,
even though since no names had been mentioned, she wasn’t entirely sure who or
what the conversation had been about. She still hadn’t processed everything
Daniel had been saying on the phone.

Bullets.

Old case
notes.

Statements.

Murders
–
plural…

Her heart
skipped a beat. “You were talking about Craig Edmonds, weren’t you?”

With his hand
covering his mouth, he scrutinized her face, as if searching for a way into her
mind.

“You’ve already
sworn me to secrecy. Would you rather I speculate?”

Daniel lowered
his hand. “Is that something they teach journalists, or does it come
naturally?”