A Date To Die For, page 24
‘Joe.’ Olivia tugged at his elbow. ‘C’mon, Joe. Look away. Come out of there.’
Joe heard Olivia’s voice, but her words didn’t register. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to look. But he didn’t want to not look.
He stood motionless for a full minute. His mouth opened, but he couldn’t speak. Then he felt the heat rising through his body as shock and dismay turned to anger. He bashed his fist against the door. He turned and marched over to Damien. ‘What happened—every detail? You son of a bitch. What did you do?’
‘Take it easy. I did nothing. It’s not my fault.’
‘Sure it is,’ Joe shouted. ‘Everything…’ He didn’t wipe the spit that ran down his chin. ‘Everything is your fault. What happened, Damien? Tell me what happened.’
‘Okay. Just calm down.’ Damien put both hands up in a surrender gesture. ‘Paul told Sarah he had an appointment with me. He didn’t. I was in my office, I heard him shout at her. “I’ve got an appointment with him, Sarah, I’m going in.” I stood just as he slammed open my office door.’ Damien walked over to examine the door. ‘At least it doesn’t look damaged.’ He frowned. ‘Actually, there’s a small dent where you just punched it.’
Joe sensed Tessa move towards Damien. He put an arm out to stop her. Through clenched teeth, he articulated each word slowly. ‘How did it happen? What did Paul do?’
Damien walked back to the reception area. ‘He implied I’m a narcissist. No, he didn’t imply. Paul accused me of being a narcissist. He said, “This vision is for you. I hope it haunts you for the rest of your narcissistic life.” And then he put the gun to his head and shot himself. Shit, the blood. What a mess. I’ll need to replace the carpet. I’ll make sure the department pays for the clean-up.’
Joe stared at Damien. His heart pounded. His nostrils flared. His breathing was rapid and shallow. Then, as the adrenalin rush became too much for him, Joe threw a right hook that landed Damien on the floor, smashing the glass coffee table as he fell backward. Blood spurted from Damien’s skull, streaking the broken shards of glass, and staining the grey carpet red. Joe didn’t hear Sarah’s ear-splitting scream. He ignored Olivia pleading with him to stop. He straddled Damien. ‘You’ll rot in hell for what you’ve done. Everything you’ve done,’ he said as he pummelled Damien with continuous right hooks until the police grabbed him and dragged him away.
‘What’s got into you?’ Damien said, as Sarah helped him to his feet. ‘I thought we were friends.’
Joe glared at Damien. ‘Don’t talk to me about friendship. You are a narcissistic …’ Joe stopped himself before he called Damien a murderer. He turned to Sarah, who was staring at him, her face stained with mascara and smudged lipstick. ‘You have no idea who your boss is, do you?’
Damien shouted after him as the officers motioned Joe towards the door. ‘You and the department are going to pay for this. Pay big time.’
Joe shrugged off the officers and turned to reply to Damien. ‘You …’ He stopped when he saw Olivia walking out of Damien’s office, holding an envelope. She handed it to him. It was addressed to Joe.
One of the officers reached out for the envelope. ‘I’ll take that. It’s evidence.’
Joe looked at him with a raised eyebrow as he took the note out of the envelope. The officer dropped his arm.
Joe read the note from Paul.
You’re my best friend Joe. You were right. At the station, when you asked me not to force you to live with the vision of me dying. I understood. You were right. You don’t deserve it. So, I saved it for Damien. He deserves the vision.
The world is in despair. I’m in despair. I can’t do it anymore.
I love you, Joe. Don’t cry for me.
Don’t cry for me, Trudi. I love you with all my heart. Goodbye, my love.
Joe put the note back in the envelope and handed it to the officer. ‘Read my lips, Damien. You will pay.’
45
The fingerprints comparing the pair of broken glasses left at the scene of Yolanda’s attack with the empty glass Damien left behind at the barbeque came back inconclusive. Not conclusive enough to convince the magistrate there were reasonable grounds for a search warrant for Damien’s apartment.
‘We’re back to square one.’ Joe paced. ‘With a warrant, Damien’s laptop would have come into play. His location data on his mobile and the GPS in his car. Proof where he’s been and when. Exact time and place. We just need to …’ He walked to the window.
Tessa followed him to the window. ‘Do you think you’re telling me something I don’t know?’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I just need to … I’m rambling.’ Joe walked back to his desk. ‘I just can’t focus. I keep seeing Paul, the blood … I …’
‘We have to focus.’ Tessa sat. ‘We can’t let anything happen to Yolanda.’
Joe sighed as he closed his eyes and clasped his hands behind his head, his elbows cradling his face. After a moment, he looked over at Tessa. ‘We have to go to Bathurst. Talk to Yolanda. Show her Damien’s photo.’
‘Damien has similar physical features to Kowalski and Sanders. And to you. Do you remember when we showed her Sanders and Kowalski’s photos?’
‘She said it could have been either of them,’ Joe conceded. ‘But Yolanda is our best chance. Damien’s photo might jog her memory about some other detail.’
Tessa sprang from her chair. ‘Shit, shit, holy shit.’ She waved her mobile in Joe’s face. ‘He’ll know now where she is and what she’s doing. Look at this. I’m sure we told her to delete her Facebook account.’
Joe looked at a photo of Yolanda with two other women. The caption read, ‘Welcome home, Yolanda. So happy you’re back teaching with us.’
‘She didn’t post it.’ Joe said. ‘Her friend obviously tagged her. But you’re right. We did tell her to delete her account. All the more reason to go to Bathurst. If we leave now, we can be there by five, five-thirty at the latest.’
‘I’ll call her. Tell her we’re on our way and delete her Facebook account immediately.’ Tessa looked at her watch. ‘She’s probably in class. I’ll leave a message.’
***
‘Take a right here, then a left.’ Tessa checked Google maps on her mobile. ‘And another left. Over there. There’s a McCafé. You get the coffees. I’ll call Yolanda, let her know we’re only fifteen minutes away.’
Joe had just ordered the coffee when Tessa ran up behind him. ‘We have to go. She’s not there. He must have her.’ Tessa continued as they ran back to the car, ‘She didn’t answer her mobile. I rang her parents. She didn’t come home from school. They’d rung her mobile, school, her friends. Nobody has seen or heard from her since school finished this afternoon. They contacted Bathurst police. The police are looking for her now. Her car is still in the school yard.’
Joe stopped to check his mobile before getting in the car.
‘What are you doing?’ Tessa shouted. ‘We’re running out of time. Just get in the car and drive.’
Joe exited the McDonald’s car park and headed south.
Tessa pointed. ‘No, you’re going the wrong way. We should be heading north.’
‘He’s taking her somewhere near the river. And he’s heading south.’
‘What? Why?’
‘That’s why I was checking my mobile. Hold on …’ Joe checked over his right shoulder, accelerated and overtook an old slow-moving VW. ‘I’m tracking him.’
‘Joe? You’re what?’
Joe heard the disbelief in Tessa’s voice. ‘Remember what you said. We can bend the rules if it means stopping Damien. When I had dinner with him, he went to the gents. And he was gone long enough for me to set it up.’
‘How did you get into his mobile?
‘Easy. His password was only going to be one of two. It wasn’t NotGuilty, the password you said he uses for his laptop. So, it had to be his mother’s birth year. He uses that for most things. You know that.’
‘Right. Pray it works and we get there in time. So, why didn’t you check sooner?
‘I did. This morning. He was still at home. And later he was at the office.’ Joe accelerated a few kilometres beyond the speed limit. ‘He was following his normal weekday routine.’
They drove for twenty minutes. The trees and landscape were a green blur as they sped along the highway.
‘We’re too late,’ Tessa said. ‘He’s had her too long.’
Joe slowed as a kangaroo hopped on the road and then back into the bush. ‘Do we know what time Yolanda left the classroom?’
‘No. She told her parents in the morning that she would be staying back after school for a while to prepare lessons for the next day. That’s why they weren’t initially concerned when she didn’t get home at the normal time.’
‘So we don’t know how long he’s had her.’ Joe overtook a semi-trailer. ‘He might not be far ahead.’
They drove another ten minutes. ‘Over there.’ Tessa pointed. ‘His car. Over there, behind the trees. Near the river.’
Tessa threw open her door and jumped out of the car before Joe had fully stopped.
He put the car in park and raced after her to the riverbank.
‘They’re not here,’ Tessa shouted. ‘They’re not here. It’s going to be dark soon. We’ll never find them.’
Joe turned three sixty degrees, looking up and down the riverbank, into the bush leading back to Damien’s car. Then he stopped and pointed to the water’s edge. ‘There’s footprints. In the sand.’ He ran over to study the prints closer. ‘They went north.’
They ran two hundred metres along the riverbank. Tessa caught up with Joe when he stopped suddenly. He pointed towards the bush. ‘Over there. I heard something.’
A piercing scream from the direction Joe was pointing was followed a split second later by a flock of shrieking lorikeets protesting the sudden noise and abandoning their evening resting place.
More screams.
It took Joe and Tessa less than fifteen seconds to find the source of the screams.
Damien had Yolanda pushed up against a tree. His hands around her throat.
Joe fired a warning shot in the air. ‘It’s over, Damien,’ he shouted. ‘Let her go.’
Damien wrenched Yolanda in front of him and held her by the throat as he reached for his gun.
‘Put your gun down,’ Joe shouted. ‘It’s over.’
‘You put yours down, or she’s dead.’ Damien pushed his gun into the side of Yolanda’s head.
‘You’ve got the shot … kill him, kill him.’ Tessa’s screams were silenced in Joe’s head by Amber’s mother’s words … don’t kill him … death is too good for him ... death is too good for him … Echoes in Joe’s head … death is too good for him. Don’t kill him.
‘Jesus, Joe. Take the shot. Kill him.’
‘Drop the gun, Joe.’ Damien pushed his gun into Yolanda’s head with more force. ‘Drop it. Or she’s dead. Then you and your slutty lesbian friend will be next.’
Joe was less than five metres from Damien. He looked into Damien’s eyes and for the first time since he’d met Damien more than twenty-five years ago, he saw the real Damien. He saw satanic darkness and hate oozing from his eyes.
Yolanda struggled to free herself from Damien’s grip. ‘Please, please … let me go.’ Mud and tears streaked her face. Her long hair was matted with leaves and twigs from either falling or being dragged by Damien through the dense bush.
Damien aimed his gun at Joe. ‘Drop your gun’
‘It’s no use Damien,’ Joe yelled. ‘You’re outnumbered. Let Yolanda go. And drop your gun or you’re a dead man.’
‘Maybe. But I’ll take at least one of you with me,’ Damien yelled back.
Joe looked from the monster’s eyes to Yolanda’s terrified and pleading eyes.
What followed unfolded in slow motion for Joe, but only took seconds in real time.
Joe lowered his gaze towards Damien’s left ankle. ‘Tess, how deadly are Eastern browns?’
Damien took his eyes off Joe for a split second. He looked down in the direction of Joe’s gaze, causing his gun hand to move centimetres away from Yolanda’s head. A split second was long enough for Joe to take aim and shoot the gun out of Damien’s hand. Blood spurted from his wrist. He shrieked in pain. Despite the pain Damien managed to wrap his injured arm around Yolanda. He pulled a large double-edged knife with his uninjured hand from the leather knife pouch around his waist. He plunged it towards Yolanda. Tessa reached him in time to kickbox the knife from his hands. Damien raised his hands in surrender and dropped to his knees. Suddenly he grabbed the gun still lying on the ground. He aimed at Joe, fired, and missed as Tessa dislodged the gun from his hand with another kickbox. ‘Not so good with your left hand, are you?’
Joe stood over Damien. ‘Stand. By the way. There was no snake.’
Damien didn’t move. His eyes darted from Tessa to Damien, back to Tessa.
Joe saw confusion in Damien’s eyes. ‘It’s over Damien. Stand. I’ve won this contest. Our last contest.’
Damien looked towards the river as he slowly stood.
‘There’s no escape for you. It’s over,’ Joe said as he walked towards Damien, still aiming the gun at him. ‘I said it’s over.’ He stared into Damien’s dark eyes. ‘But it’s not quite over. This one is for Paul.’ The bullet from Joe’s gun shattered Damien’s kneecap.
Damien screamed obscenities at Joe that a Hells Angels bikie would be proud of.
Tessa grimaced. ‘I imagine that hurts.’
Joe looked at Tessa. ‘I guess … I guess … I shouldn’t have …but …’
‘He shouldn’t have tried to run,’ Tessa said with a wry smile. ‘You had no choice.’ She looked at Damien’s mangled and bloodied knee. ‘I guess there won’t be any rugby for you in prison.’
46
Joe stood, leaning his arms on the wide timber railing of his deck, deep in thought. A cup of lukewarm coffee sat untouched on the railing next to his elbow. He watched the sun turn the drifting clouds red and pink as it slowly sank towards the tree-lined horizon.
Joe closed his eyes and inhaled the soft scent of his flowering gardenias. His thoughts drifted like the clouds in the sky, with nowhere in particular to go and in no particular time.
He thought about Paul’s memorial service the day before. Why did the sun still shine? What right did the birds have—to still sing, as though the world hadn’t changed? The world has changed. Paul isn’t in it anymore. But the world hasn’t changed. It was Joe’s world that changed—again. His mother’s words came back to him. You didn’t cry when your father died. He didn’t cry when Paul died, either.
Joe’s thoughts drifted again. He thought about Dean. Thought about how Dean allows himself to let go and isn’t afraid to show emotion or shed a tear, even in public. Letting go is Dean’s survival mechanism. Not afraid to share his emotions with Lorna. Accept her support. When Dean was in the department, it was how he overcame the physical and emotional stress of police work. But Dean’s a professional. He’s always in control when the situation calls for control. He thought of how Dean’s belief that one person can make a difference, gave him the strength to go on when he was in the force. It was why he pleaded with Joe to stay. Whoever saves one life saves the world.
Joe thought of Sammy’s reaction to Damien at the barbeque, and then of Tessa’s question in the car, ‘What did you say to Dean at the end of Sammy’s memorial?’
I told him that Sammy was a police dog to the end. He helped us track down a killer.
Joe thought about Tessa—thought about how often he had to remind her to take control. And recently, how the tables have turned, and Tessa has had to remind him to take control. Was he losing his self-control? Or was he, like Dean, starting to allow himself to show his emotions. Tess is never afraid to show her emotions. Often anger at the atrocities that people inflict on each other. But not only on other human beings … also the pain and cruelty they inflict on animals. He looked over at Bonnie—safe now from that pain and cruelty.
He thought about Alex’s question at the beach the morning the surfer and his dog found Phoebe’s body. ‘How do you sleep at night … facing horror and tragedy every day?’
‘Sleep? It doesn’t come easy, Alex. A lot of nights I don’t.’
Then Joe’s thoughts turned back to Paul. Paul cried, showed his emotions, and he tried to bury his emotions in alcohol. Nothing helped Paul cope. Dean copes. Tessa copes. Paul couldn’t. Then Joe thought of his father. Like Paul, his father turned to alcohol. And like Dean, his father wasn’t afraid to show his emotions. But he still didn’t cope. Why? There’s no answer. How could he survive if his father couldn’t survive? This job. No. It’s not a job. It’s his life. He lives it with every breath he takes. He couldn’t imagine any other life. But was this life destroying him?
Was he heading in the same direction as his father … and Paul? Joe didn’t want to think about Paul or his father that way. He wanted to remember only the gentleness he often saw in Paul’s eyes that reminded him of the same gentleness in his father’s eyes. Two wonderful people who were here for a short time. But while they were here, they made a difference. Joe thought of Dean’s Dr Seuss quote at Sammy’s memorial. ‘Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.’ Dad and Paul. Imagine what the world would be like if everyone were like them, if … Joe shrugged. Stop dreaming, he told himself. People are what they are.
Joe’s guitar rested on the table next to him. He considered it, picked it up, sat and strummed a few chords with unpractised fingers. Then a few more chords, until his strumming morphed into John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’. Bonnie inched closer to Joe. Lost in thought now about his father and Paul, Joe didn’t notice Bonnie. Still not aware of Bonnie, Joe’s eyes watered. His throat constricted with the effort of holding back the tears that stung his eyes. Then, no longer able to hold back those tears, he wept. Joe cried like he’d never cried in his life. The release was a long time coming. Too long—fifteen years. Fifteen years, almost to the day since his father committed suicide. Bonnie rested her paw on his leg and looked up at him. Joe, surprised at Bonnie’s touch, the gentle pressure of her paw on his leg, looked into her brown eyes. Those gentle eyes that touched his soul. He saw love, and he saw complete trust at last in the depths of those eyes. Joe stopped sobbing, put down his guitar and hugged Bonnie. The bond he and Bonnie formed at that moment was the start of their healing journey they would travel together.
