The Witness, page 6
Tash smiled sadly. ‘I don’t always feel strong,’ she said. ‘No one ever does. Sometimes I’ve got to take a bloody deep breath before I walk into a room when I know there’s going to be difficult conversations, or shit things that I have to do. I think people would treat each other a whole lot differently if they could see inside people’s souls and feel their anxiety or fear.’
Molly blinked. That was the most authentic Tash had ever been. ‘I know. When I have to go into a ward and give bad news to a pregnant woman, or a new parent, it’s the worst. Sometimes I have to practise what I’m going to say before I do.’
‘That’s the only way to do it.’
They were silent, lost in thoughts for a while. Then Tash took a deep breath.
Molly turned to her, thinking she was about to cry, but instead of sadness, she saw a determined look on Tash’s face. ‘What?’ she asked, realising there was something big coming.
Tash took her hand. ‘Molly, this is just reminiscent of Sammi’s death. And I’m sorry you’ve had to go through this again – losing people so close to you.’
Molly looked down at her hands. She didn’t want to think about her birth mother today. Then she frowned. ‘It’s not reminiscent, though. Mum and Dad weren’t murdered!’
Tash leaned back, seeming to realise her mistaken words. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. Only that you’ve lost Sammi and now your parents. I’ve always been so proud of the way you’ve handled your life. I know the counselling with Janet has had a lot to do with getting you here, but I’m really proud of the woman you’ve become. I don’t want the deaths of Eric and Iris to derail you at all. So please, keep up your counselling with Janet, won’t you?’
‘I haven’t been seeing her for a while,’ Molly said. ‘I decided not to, but she actually emailed today.’
‘How have you been going – before now?’ Tash asked.
‘Okay.’ Molly pushed her fringe back from her face. ‘It’s been different . . . Hard some days, but mostly I’ve been fine.’
‘Good. Maybe go and see her again if you feel at all wobbly.’
‘Actually, she’s asked me to speak to a student who’s writing a thesis. Something about children and trauma from losing a parent in violent circumstances. I can’t remember exactly what it is.’ She paused. ‘I guess I’ll speak to her in time, but I don’t think I want to do that just yet. Not now. Not after . . . this.’
‘You don’t have to make a decision on that today,’ Tash answered. ‘But it would be interesting. It might be another way to help people who end up in the same circumstances as you, although I’d really like it if no one ever did again!’
‘Hmm, you and me both,’ Molly said.
‘You know we never closed the case on your birth mum’s death, don’t you?’
Molly took a sharp breath in through her nose. Any mention of Sammi Walker and she had to consciously stop her mind from going back to that moment when she saw her mum’s body tumble to the ground. And Tash’s question was from left field. ‘Yes. Of course I know that.’
‘I feel like it will never be solved after all this time, but hopefully with new methods and techniques coming out all the time, we might be lucky. Who knows.’
Molly concentrated on Tash’s fingers, entwined together. When she stopped talking, Tash’s fingers tightened. A sign she wanted Molly to look at her. She did.
‘I just wanted to say I’m so sorry you had to witness Sammi’s murder. It’s always played on my mind. No child should have to see anything like that, let alone happening to their own mother.’ She paused. ‘And I’m sorry that it was leaked that you witnessed the murder.’ She shook her head. ‘I wish I’d been able to find out where that had come from. If I had, I might have been able to get you a Legacy home in New South Wales, but that wasn’t to be. Moving here was just such a huge upheaval for someone so young. Especially after what you’d already seen.’
‘But then I would have never known Mum and Dad,’ Molly said. ‘It was worth it just for that.’
‘I understand. These are things . . . thoughts I’ve had ever since I heard about Eric and Iris. I had to say them to you.’
‘Oh.’ Molly looked back down. The nails on her hands were clipped short, her skin supple and without sun damage, whereas Tash’s were the opposite; long and painted with clear varnish. Her right hand had a long thin scar on the back, and Molly could see where the stitches had been. A run-in with a crackhead with a knife was the explanation Tash had given when Molly had asked many years ago. ‘I’m glad you put me here,’ she said. ‘I’ve had twenty years with a loving mum and dad and that’s more than some others get. What’s that saying? It’s better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. I was lucky to have had them for as long as I did. And as for Sammi – well, like you say, we might never know who or why, but I’ve learned to live with that just as I’m going to have to learn to live with this now. Solving Sammi’s murder doesn’t really matter to me, but if it was solved, then that would be good too.’
‘I understand,’ Tash said softly. ‘But I’d like to know you’ll always be safe.’
CHAPTER 7
Angie let herself back into her house and closed the door with the quietest of clicks. She stood listening.
For once the house wasn’t filled with baby noises. Only the hum of electrical appliances and the tick of that bloody annoying clock above the TV.
She’d been meaning to take the batteries out for ages and she would do it now, while it was front of mind. Since having Charlie, she couldn’t rely on her memory the way she once had and that frightened her. What kind of detective would she be if she couldn’t solve crimes? If she couldn’t remember all the evidence and facts? The notes she had stashed all over the place reminding her to put out the bins or pay the water bill weren’t appropriate in any sort of criminal investigation.
Stopping in front of her TV cabinet, she looked at the photos on the shelf and then closed her eyes, trying to recount each one. There was the one of her graduating from the academy, a family pic taken at a Christmas get-together five years ago and . . . There was a third one. A third . . . Angie cracked an eye open and cheated. Yes! The third one was the one with Mac and her niece and nephew. Shit, shit, shit. She knew other women talked about baby brain, but she’d been determined not to get it. It seemed that she hadn’t had any say in the matter, though, and now here she was, her head full of cotton wool. How did she get rid of it? A flicker of anxiety started.
Angie took the clock off the wall and started to take the battery out but then flipped it over to look at the face.
She remembered exactly when she had bought it. She’d taken a rare morning off with Will a couple of years ago and they’d driven to the Fremantle markets. In a stall selling antiques, Will had found a pocket watch: gold and silver, swirled together, and engraved with the initials MNF and the date 7/5/40. He’d bought it and took it in his pocket whenever he went out, making a show of checking the time in the hope that someone would ask him about it. Angie had then found a stall selling clocks. Tiny clocks, hanging clocks of different sizes, shelf clocks, all the way to a large grandfather clock that was as tall as she was.
The clock she chose had a face showing the silhouette of a dog standing next to a woman. The hat the woman wore wasn’t a police-issued one but if you squinted, it was close enough. And Angie had worked in the dog squad for a short period of time and loved the experience, only leaving because she’d taken a promotion to go over to major crash. The pendulum that ticked back and forth to mark the seconds passing was in the shape of a dog.
She hadn’t realised how loud the tick was until she’d been at home alone with Charlie. Before he was born, Angie was hardly ever in the house during the day and now, during his very short sleeps when she tried to get some rest on the couch, all she heard was the bloody ticking. The noise drove her mad.
Plus, this was a memory of Will she didn’t need. She walked into the kitchen, opened the lid and dumped it in the bin, without a care. Bugger the battery, just get rid of the whole thing.
‘Doesn’t your clock work? I could have a go at fixing it, if you want?’
Angie jumped at the low voice and turned to see her father standing in the doorway.
‘Sorry, Dad, I didn’t know you were here. The house was so quiet I thought you must be out and about.’
‘Rowdy went out like a light after we’d had a bit of a walk around the backyard and looked at the shiny leaves and the birds. He’s snoring his little box off.’
Angie smiled at his turn of phrase. She remembered him putting her to bed when she was a kid, touching her nose with his forefinger and saying the same thing to her. Her answer had always been: ‘What box?’
‘I’ve put him in the bassinet,’ Todd continued. ‘That way every time he stirs, I can rock him a bit and he goes back to sleep.’
Angie shook her head in amazement. ‘I had no idea you were such a whiz with babies.’
‘Sweetheart, you’re looking at the baby whisperer. Ask your mother. I was always able to rock you or your brother to sleep, when she’d tried everything. Used to drive her mad.’ He gave a cheeky smile.
Angie laughed. ‘That’s what I mean, Mum never said anything!’
‘Ah well, she probably didn’t want word to spread about my talents because otherwise I might’ve been in demand. Do you want me to fix that clock?’
‘No thanks.’ Angie pulled out a chair and sat down. Her breasts were beginning to feel sore and tight again, so she pulled her T-shirt away from them and put her elbows on the table. ‘It’s just a memory I don’t want.’
Todd pulled out a chair and sat down too. He wiped his hand across the table to get rid of minute crumbs that Angie couldn’t even see.
‘Thanks for coming, Dad. Are you sure Mum and Mac don’t mind?’
‘Your brother has more than enough help,’ Todd said. ‘And he’s still pretty mobile. It’ll be as the multiple sclerosis progresses that he’ll need more people around to assist him.’ Sadness crossed over his face but cleared quickly. ‘Hopefully that’s not for years yet. And Mum, she was pleased I was coming. We discussed it. She couldn’t while she’s helping with Mac’s kids. They’ve only been back at school for a couple of weeks since the April school holidays. It’s been so damn hard for Mac since Abby died in that crash. So it was decided it would be me that came to help you.’
‘God, it still feels like just the other day that she died. What was it, though – six years ago?’ Angie said. ‘Abby was too young to die and Mac is too young to be a widower.’
‘Never too young to die,’ Todd said with his characteristic common sense.
‘I should go and see him.’
‘I reckon you’ve got more than enough on your plate, love. Let’s get Rowdy into some sort of routine before you think about meandering off anywhere. Anyhoo, I know it’s none of my business – and you can tell me to bugger off if you like – but what’s going on with you and Will?’
Angie looked at her hands and linked her fingers together, then unlinked them, then linked them again. ‘Nothing. That’s exactly what’s going on. He’s gone his way and I’ve gone mine. Nothing more to say.’
‘You’ve told him about Charlie?’
Angie sighed. ‘You try keeping a secret in a police station. They’re the worst type of gossips around. I didn’t get to tell him. Someone got to him before I did.’
‘And how did that go?’
‘Not brilliantly. He sent a text message telling me I was on my own.’
Todd narrowed his eyes. ‘He can’t do that. Charlie is half his responsibility.’
‘No. Stuff him. I don’t want anything from him.’ Angie sat up straighter. ‘Nothing. Charlie and I will be fine without his help.’
‘No need to cut your nose off to spite your face, love. He should be paying something towards that boy. If you do the crime, you have to do the time.’
‘I’m sure he thinks Charlie is a bit of a crime. I heard the new missus was particularly unimpressed and he had to do some fast talking to get her to stay. Especially since her delivery date was just before mine. What a laugh and a half that was.’ Angie’s face was grim.
‘I never liked him. Self-absorbed. Head up his arse.’
‘Sounds like you’re questioning my judgement,’ Angie said, teasing now.
‘No doubt about it,’ Todd answered. ‘Men have never been your strong suit. I can remember when you brought Jai home.’
Angie laughed and held up her hands. ‘Don’t!’
‘Jai sure was a catch. Dreadlocks, nose ring, cock ring too from all accounts.’ Todd’s grin was enormous.
‘Oh my . . . Dad, how do you even know that?’
‘He was your brother’s best mate. I make it my business to know these things.’
‘Well, can you forget it, please? Shit!’ She put her fingers to her suddenly flaming cheeks and turned away.
‘How else will I tease you?’
‘I’m sure you’ll find a way. He was the biggest mistake,’ she conceded but then thought about Will and the way he’d managed to get two women pregnant within weeks of each other. ‘Well, actually, maybe not the biggest one.’
Charlie stirred in the next room and she stood up. ‘Thank god for that.’
‘Want a cup of tea, love?’ her dad asked as Angie picked up Charlie, holding him close into her chest. She kissed his head while he gurgled and snuffled before finding his fist and sucking on it.
‘No thanks,’ she answered. Settling herself in the chair next to his cot, she arranged Charlie so he could feed and let her head fall back against the headrest. Jai was a distant memory, as were a lot of her mistakes when it came to men. And there were plenty, just as Todd had reminded her. Maybe he was surprised that she hadn’t become a mum before now.
She looked down at Charlie and smiled. She couldn’t really refer to Will as her biggest mistake because he’d left her with a lasting souvenir, one who she loved with all her heart. But one who left her so very conflicted. Mum versus detective. Detective versus mum. She sighed as she rocked. She thought being a mum would come naturally, but it hadn’t. Angie loved Charlie, there was no question. But nothing had been planned and she really hadn’t had time to come to terms with being pregnant before he’d arrived. In fact, she’d mostly ignored her pregnancy and kept on working, focusing on investigations.
She thought back on the cases she’d worked, wondering which had been the most satisfying. Maybe the drug sting that had landed eight people in gaol. Or that car accident involving a husband and wife, in which the passenger had been killed while the driver had walked away unscathed; she’d known right from the start there was something off about that case. She’d suspected the husband had driven into the tree on purpose, but there had been little evidence to prove it – until she’d started digging into his finances and found he had a secret life: another wife, a child and a successful business, all in a different state. His wife, who had died in the car that day, had a life insurance policy that was worth over two million dollars. It was all such a cliché, but he’d covered his tracks well. The judge had sent him down for murder and bigamy. Twenty-five years without parole. If Angie hadn’t looked as closely as she had, he’d still be walking around and maybe scheming how to do the same thing to the second wife, with a third in the wings.
Charlie started to fuss, so she changed sides and tightened her grip on him, before getting up. There was washing in the machine to hang out. She could get it all into the basket one-handed while Charlie kept feeding.
Her phone beeped with a message, and she tried to fumble it out of her pocket while she walked to the laundry.
‘You’ll give that boy indigestion,’ Todd said as she walked through the kitchen.
‘What?’ Angie was so taken aback by his words, she laughed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much in one day.
‘You heard.’ Todd flicked over the page of the newspaper he was reading, a cup of tea on the table beside him. He looked like he’d sat in that chair all his life rather than for the first time today.
Charlie started to fuss again. He was finished. He screwed his nose up and started to cry.
‘I prefer you when you’re milk drunk,’ Angie said mildly. She handed him to Todd. ‘Here you go, baby whisperer. Work your magic.’
‘Come on, Rowdy. Let’s see if you’re going to burp or spew.’ He put Charlie over his shoulder and gently rubbed his back.
Angie looked at them a moment longer, still smiling, her heart full. Her phone beeped again, reminding her there was a message. She looked at it and saw the message was from Will. ‘What the fuck? Does he have ears?’
‘Heeeyyy,’ Todd said, covering Charlie’s ears. ‘I know I’m a sailor and we all have potty mouths, but you really shouldn’t—’
She turned the phone around and let her dad read the name on the screen. He raised an eyebrow.
‘Interesting. Must’ve heard us talking about him.’
She flicked her eyes over the message, and then read it aloud to Todd. ‘Hi Angie, I hope you’re well? I know our situation is pretty unusual, but I wanted to let you know that I’d like to see our child at some stage. We’re all adults here, so I’m sure we can keep the communication respectful and polite. Would you give me a call when it suits, so we can organise a time? Cheers, Will. God he’s got some nerve,’ she snarled. Throwing the phone on the table, she stalked off into the laundry and opened the washing machine door. She seethed with anger as she reached in to drag the wet clothes out, but her fingers met with empty air.
Confused, she looked around the laundry. Had she actually put the washing on? She’d definitely woken up this morning with that intention. But where . . .? God, this baby brain did stupid shit to her. It was so damn annoying. She couldn’t trust her memory or herself the way she always had in the past.
