Weaving Sorrow: An Australian Crime Thriller (Detective Tony Packer Book 4), page 1
ALSO AVAILABLE FROM JT VINER
A Bad Place Alone
An Absence So Cruel
A Bitter Silence
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
WEAVING SORROW
First edition. August 15, 2024.
Copyright © 2024 JT Viner.
Written by JT Viner.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
About the Author
Chapter 1
"Over here, mate," Brian said, trying to keep the note of impatience out of his voice.
There was very little lighting here on the dock. The overhead light nearest to them had a burnt-out bulb, and only the dull glow from the lights closer to the park provided any illumination at all.
In the twilight of the early evening, Brian could see Kev's small form standing about thirty metres away. The boy was standing on the damp wood of the dock, staring across the river towards the lights of Claisebrook Cove.
On the other side of the Swan River, the Royal Hotel was open, its lower deck brightly lit and the faint sound of music playing in the evening air.
"Kev?" Brian said.
Kev gave no response, and Brian let out a slight sigh of frustration. It had to have been about the twentieth time that evening that he had tried to get Kev back on track, and Brian was beginning to grow annoyed by this.
He put the fish hooks and the small, round plastic container of bait down on the wooden surface of the dock and sat back down again.
This was pointless, and he knew it.
Brian had been with Madeline for four months now, and he really wanted it to work. It had been more than two years since his divorce, and he'd finally put Linda behind him. He'd started talking to Madeline one night at the Cannington Hotel and they had hit it off.
It had been so long since either of them had dated that neither of them could remember any of the moves. But after a couple of nervous nights out and awkward conversation, they had both quickly found their groove again. Within weeks, things had started to happen.
Brian was now living in Maddie's house, on and off, and would have liked to move in permanently, if only to save himself some money on the crippling rent payments on his own apartment.
But the stumbling block was Kev.
The boy had been only seven when Madeleine and her husband had divorced, and he had not coped very well with the separation.
Madeleine's ex, Kev's father, had moved over east somewhere, and had had little contact with the boy since. As a result, he had become withdrawn and awkward. This was something that worried Madeline, and she spent a lot of time telling Brian about it. She was reluctant to take things any further with Brian because of her concern about how Kevin might - or might not - cope with the idea of things becoming more permanent between them.
Madeleine's solution, or demand, really, was that Brian build a fatherly relationship with Kevin before she would agree to their relationship becoming any more serious.
Brian did not have any children of his own, and now that he was in his early forties, it seemed to him that it was far too late to start trying to be a father.
But he did care about Madeline, and he did want things to work out with her. As difficult as this was, he had to admit there was something about being a father to Kevin that he had found exciting at first, and he had been almost enthusiastic about the idea at first.
As the months had continued, though, and Kevin had remained distant and withdrawn, Brian was finding it more and more difficult to remain enthusiastic about this.
Now that the school holidays were on, Brian had hit on another brainwave.
He would take Kevin fishing.
That might not sound like a very exciting prospect to a nine-year-old boy whose interests consisted solely of playing Minecraft and using online chat to talk to his friends, 'but,' Brian had told him, 'it wasn't just any old fishing. It was night fishing.'
They were going fishing after Brian finished work. There was something exciting about being out in the cool night air with nothing but the darkness for company.
"It's night time," Brian had said, with a grin, "That's when the ghosts come out to play."
Kevin had looked back at him, stony-faced, giving no indication of whether he found this exciting or was simply tolerating Brian's attempt at humour.
Either way, Madeleine had pushed Kevin to go along with Brian's scheme, and arrangements had been made.
After a hard day on site, Brian was knackered and didn't particularly feel like going out fishing, but he had arranged this, and so he had to go through with it.
He had ducked home for a quick shower before heading to Madeleine's place, and the three of them had eaten dinner. Despite his tiredness, Brian had spent the meal doing his best to stir up some enthusiasm in Kevin about their nocturnal fishing trip.
He had gotten barely five or six words of response from Kevin. Kevin had stared down at the plate pushing the food around with his fork.
Before arriving for dinner, Brian had loaded up his ute with provisions. He had tied two fishing rods lines to the ladder rack on the ute, and had dropped the container of fresh bait that he had picked up on the way home from work into the back of the tray next to the tackle box.
He would have liked to take a few beers along, but had instead settled for a couple of cans of Coke.
It was only a short drive from Madeleine's house at Cannington down to the Swan River near Matagarup Bridge. Brian had done his best to engage Kevin in conversation along the wat, but as usual, had got little help from Kevin.
Brian had turned off just before the Causeway and headed along Burswood Drive past the casino and along the river to the car park outside The Camfield. He'd stopped the ute there and unloaded.
Kevin had stood in the dark in silence while Brian untied the two fishing rods and lifted the tackle box out of the back of the ute.
"Here you are, mate. You bring this one," Brian had said, handing the tackle box and the small container of bait to Kevin.
Kevin had accepted them in silence.
Carrying both the fishing rods over his shoulder, Brian had led the way across the large paved area outside the stadium and into the parklands.
The lights at the edge of the stadium lit up the paved area as they crossed it, but the parklands beyond were bathed in twilight.
Kevin had followed behind Brian down the slope towards the river and the gloom around the dock.
During the day, the ferry pulled up here, but at night time the area was secured and the dock was fenced off with a large steel beam that had been padlocked in place.
"Better keep an eye out for any coppers walking past," Brian had said, with a smile, "or any of the werewolves that live around here."
"Okay," Kevin had said flatly.
It had not been clear whether he had understood this to be a joke or not.
Brian had put the two fishing rods down on the other side of the gate, and took the tackle box from Kevin to place it beside them.
He had swung one leg over the gate to step down the other side and held out a hand to Kevin.
"Here, mate. I'll give you a hand," he had said.
Kevin had ignored him and simply climbed over the gate on his own.
They had walked together across the damp boards of the dock towards the water.
It was a still night and there was little movement in the water, apart from a gentle lapping against the thick posts holding the dock up.
The railway bridge loomed out of the darkness in the distance but was silent, apart from the occasional clatter of a train, and those were few and far between at this time of night,
Doing his best to ignore Kevin's sullen mood, Brian had enthusiastically shown him how to bait the hook, explaining the process as he went.
Kevin had given the occasional nod of understanding, but little other response.
"Righto. Here we go, Kev," Brian had said, lifting the rod, and holding it over his shoulder, "Watch yourself."
Putting all his strength behind the move to try to impress Kevin, Brian had flicked the rod forward and the hook had whistled through the air as the reel had uncoiled. There was a faint splash as it had hit the water about forty metres away from the dock where they were standing.
Kevin had watched in silence.
"Here, take this," Brian had said, holding the rod out towards him.< br />
Kevin had lowered himself into a squat, resting the handle of the rod against the wooden planks.
Brian had flicked the second rod through the air, and there was a second faint splash as the hook hit the water.
He had sat down on the edge of the deck beside Kevin, his legs hanging over the edge, and held the rod with one hand.
"Looking forward to going back to school after the holidays, mate?" Brian had asked.
"Suppose."
"What are you in now? Grade three, is it?"
"Yeah."
There was a stilted silence while Brian had tried to think of something else.
"Do you know who your teacher'll be yet?"
"No."
"Or what other kids'll be in the class?"
"No."
"It'll be good to be back with your mates each day again."
This time, Kevin hadn't even bothered to reply. He had simply sat staring out across the still water. Brian had made a few more attempts to engage the boy in conversation, but had gotten no response and gave up.
It had been like this for the next half hour.
After a while, Kevin had laid the fishing rod down on the damp deck and stood up.
"Yeah, that's fine, mate," Brian had said, belatedly, "Why don't you go for a bit of a walk? Stretch your legs. I'm sure there'll be a bite soon."
Ignoring him, Kevin had stood up and wandered down across the wooden deck in the darkness.
"Watch out for the vampires," Brian had said, but got no reply.
Now Brian sat in the dark, the two rods leaning against the wooden deck with no movement from the water at all.
He watched Kevin's tiny form at the end of the dock and wondered whether he should simply give up, call it a night, and head back home. Whatever he needed to do to engage Kevin's enthusiasm, this wasn't it.
Resigned to the fact that this idea had failed, Brian was about to reach for the fishing rods to reel them in when Kevin suddenly lurched forward across the deck.
Brian frowned, watching what the boy was doing.
Kevin was down on his hands and knees at the very edge of the wooden beams, peering down into the water below. He leaned forward, his upper body right out over the edge.
"Hey, be careful," Brian called, "Don't fall in."
Hurriedly, he pushed himself to his feet and jogged the thirty metres or so down the pier towards Kevin.
Kevin had lowered himself flat now and was lying on his stomach, his tiny shoulders and head right over the edge of the boards. He was leaning down towards the water.
"What are you doing?" Brian asked him, bending down beside him on the wooden boards.
Kevin said something, but Brian couldn't understand what it was.
He knelt down beside him and leant down closer.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Someone's in the water," Kevin said,
"In the water?" Brian said, with a slight snigger, "Funny time of night to go swimming."
"She's not swimming," Kevin said quietly.
Brian's smile faded away.
"What are you talking about, Kev? There's no one down there."
"There is," Kevin insisted, "Someone's in the water."
Brian put his hands on the edge of the dock and leaned forward.
There was a drop of about a metre and a half to the dark water below. The lights from the stadium were behind them, and blocked out by the dock itself, leaving the area below the wooden boards bathed completely in shadow.
Brian stared into the dark, trying to see what Kevin had seen.
Was there something there?
Something pale in the shadows?
Brian peered closer, but wasn't able to make out anything in the dark.
"Hang on a minute, Kev. I'll be back," he said.
He pushed himself to his feet and hurried along the deck, back towards the tackle box.
He opened the top and lifted out the tray. At the bottom of the box was a small pen light torch that he had bought at a two-dollar shop a couple of years ago, impressed by how bright the beam was, despite its tiny size. He snatched it up and hurried back along the dock towards where Kev was still lying on his stomach.
Brian pushed in the rubber end of the torch to turn it on, but nothing happened. It had been well over a year since he had used the thing, and the batteries had gone flat.
In frustration, he tapped the end of the torch against the dock a couple of times.
There was a flicker, and the torch suddenly came to life, a bright beam of light shining through the dark beside them.
Brian lay down on the wooden boards beside Kevin, and held the torch over the end, pointing towards the water.
He swept it backwards and forwards, trying to find the pale shape that he had seen earlier, but could see nothing in the gloomy water.
"That way, a bit," said Kevin, pointing with his finger.
Brian moved the torch to the side, closer to one of the wooden beams holding up the dock.
The round circle of light from the end of the torch was bright against the shadows lying across the surface, lighting up a darkened patch of water. Brian held it out as far as he could, to move the light as close to the water as possible. He could still see nothing.
"That way," Kevin said again, pointing.
Brian moved the torch to his left, closer to one of the wooden supports.
The circle of light from the torch moved across the gently-lapping water.
Brian gave a hiss and held the torch in place.
Caught in the circle of light, a woman's face stared up at him from below the surface. Her mouth hung open and her long, brown hair swayed gently in the water.
Her unblinking eyes stared sightlessly up at them.
Chapter 2
Detective Senior Sergeant Tony Packer stood at the end of the pier watching the two uniformed officers a couple of metres away from him.
It was January, the middle of summer, but despite the season, the evening was beginning to turn cold and there was a cool breeze blowing along the water from the river.
"Up a bit higher," said one of the uniformed officers, "Bit higher."
In the water below them were two police divers in wetsuits.
"We're trying, mate," one of them yelled.
When Packer had arrived at the scene, the two uniformed officers had been standing around waiting for the diving crew to arrive.
It had taken another hour for the divers to turn up.
They had set up the two large halogen lights on tripods at the edge of the dock that now shone down towards the water below. The angle meant that the lights weren't shining where they needed to, but there was enough light reflected off the water to provide the divers with some guidance.
Since then, it had been like watching some kind of ill-conceived clown act with the two uniformed officers trying to lean down over the edge of the pier to help the divers who were treading water below, while making clumsy attempts to maneuver the body out of the water without falling in.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Packer looked away from the officers and back along the dock.
Thirty metres away, he could see the large form of Detective Senior Constable George Thompson reflected in the dim light from the stadium. The blue light of the police car parked closer to the entrance to the dock flicked past Thompson, leaving a blue glow down his side.
Thompson was standing beside the man who had reported the body. The boy with him was eagerly watching the police officers and moving from side to side, shuffling on his feet and peering around Thompson's large shape.
After a while, Thompson finished speaking with the man and walked down across the dock towards Packer.
The boy took a step forward behind him, but was restrained by the man.
Thompson walked up to join Packer.
"How's it going?" Thompson asked, his Belfast accent still strong after all these years.
"I keep hearing sound effects dubbed on by Funniest Home Videos," Packer muttered.
One of the uniformed officers looked up at him and frowned in annoyance, but had enough sense not to say anything.
"Are we making any progress?" Thompson asked the officer, raising his voice.
"Look, it's not bloody easy," the officer said, "We can't see anything in the dark and it's a long drop down to the water."
"So, what's the plan?" Thompson asked.
"Shit, I don't know," said the officer, "We're going to have to get a stretcher or something."
"Well...?" Thompson said, letting it hang in the air.
