Expectant, page 11
‘Those were my first priorities, not the preservation of evidence, not worrying about whether or not there might be some blade of grass bent the wrong way at the park, or a footprint. My priority was her wellbeing, not worrying that there might be a fibre or a hair embedded in a blanket. My priority was keeping that tiny, vulnerable baby fucking-well alive.’
Any attempt at keeping my voice calm and even had gone out the window by now, and rant mode was engaged. At some stage I had even risen to my feet.
‘You watch your language, Detective, and don’t you dare stand there and lecture me about priorities. You might think your actions were justified, or heroic, but the first thing you should have done was call for back-up, secure the scene and wait for the help to arrive. In acting the way you did you blew any chance of us getting a lead on who had her.’
By this point I had given up any pretence of trying to be reasonable.
‘You are fucking kidding me, right? Are you telling me that in your mind it was more important to preserve the scene and risk the baby’s health and chances of survival? I certainly hope that’s not what you are insinuating, because that would make you utterly lacking in compassion and less than human.’ I could see the creep of red up his face, and I didn’t know whether it was rage or shame, and frankly I didn’t care. I was on a roll and had thrown all caution to the wind.
‘And as for there being no potential leads now, that is a load of utter rubbish. Every single item she was wearing and wrapped in, hell even the cardboard box, is a potential source of information, and you know it. So don’t you dare try and pin your lack of having a firm lead in this investigation on me. I’m buggered if you are going to throw me under the bus. I did the right thing – the only thing that should have been done – and I would do it again in an instant, and if you don’t like it, then that is your problem.’ And with that, before he had a chance to spit out any words between all of that sucking of oxygen he was doing, I turned and stormed out of the door.
‘Detective,’ came the roar behind me, but I ignored it and stomped my way back to the CIB room.
Fuck him.
CHAPTER 28
‘That bastard,’ I said as I stormed my way into the CIB room. I desperately needed to hit something, or throw something, but given the lack of a suitable projectile, I gave the rubbish bin a hearty kick instead. Apart from making a sadly hollow noise as it bounced against the leg of my desk and giving my colleagues whiplash, it wasn’t at all satisfying.
‘Paul not empty the dishwasher again?’ Smithy said, a wry look on his face.
‘Oh funny,’ I replied, and thwumped down into my chair. ‘The Boss just chewed me up for contaminating evidence because I did the outrageous thing of putting the welfare of the baby first.’
‘Well, there could have been trace.’ Then he saw the look on my face. ‘Kidding, stop with the dagger look.’ He pretended to shield his eyes. Having someone as craggy-faced and dour as Smithy trying to put on a feigned terror act couldn’t help but make me smile.
‘It’s a fine line you’re walking there.’
‘Thought I’d crossed it for a second,’ he said. ‘And how did you take his comments?’ Smithy had been my mentor and guide during my first years on the detective ladder. He’d been patient and understanding of my refusal to take undue crap and my inability not to say what I thought. It had meant he’d had to smooth the waters on more than one occasion.
‘I may have made a bit of a faux pas. I got a bit shouty and stormed out, so I imagine that’s going to come back to bite me.’ In fact, I was frankly surprised that DI Johns hadn’t appeared down here already, armed with a DCM. Mind you, even if he did, a Don’t Come Monday wasn’t as effective against someone who had already submitted a Not Coming the next Monday, and following six months for that matter. The former wouldn’t look too flash on my records though.
‘Did you do sweary-shouty Sam or just shouty-shouty Sam?’
‘Sweary-shouty.’
‘Oh,’ he said. Oh indeed. ‘Would quite liked to have seen that.’
‘What would you have done?’ I asked. ‘You know, in that situation. Would you have whisked the baby off somewhere safe and dry?’
‘Of course I would have, as would anyone else with an ounce on sense. I wouldn’t get too hung up on him bawling you out about it. Besides, he was probably feeling a bit grumpy to begin with.’
‘Why?’ I asked, suspicion aroused by the smirk on his face.
‘Because he just found out that despite his best manoeuvring to keep you away from Aleisha Newman’s family, they have specifically asked to meet with you, to thank the person who found their baby.’
‘They have?’ My eyes went a bit swimmy, and I had to blink it away.
‘They have indeed.’
Suddenly the day seemed a little bit brighter. I couldn’t help but bust out in a big grin. ‘Well that would have right royally pissed him off.’
‘Somewhat.’ He had a gift for the understatement.
I thought about the ramifications of that – the good and the bad.
‘I guess that means he’ll be busy trying to dream up the shittest job he can to punish me.’
‘You’d have to presume so. He’s very grown-up like that.’
‘Bring it on.’
In this instance, it was worth it.
CHAPTER 29
They named her Hope. I got the impression that some of the men in the squad room thought the name was a little overly sentimental, but in my mind it was perfect. God knows that family needed every ounce of strength and comfort to cling to, and if a name that looked to the future rather than an horrific past could do that, all power to them. That wee girl would also need a helping hand when she became old enough to understand the terrible circumstances of her birth. To me the name Hope was a gift of optimism and love.
Every item of clothing baby Hope had been wearing, with the exclusion of Mum’s knitted hat, had been sealed up and sent off for testing at ESR up in Christchurch. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the facilities for that level of forensic examination here in Dunedin, otherwise by this stage in proceedings I may have had the actual objects in my hands to examine, rather than relying on high-resolution photos. I guessed the pics were better than nothing.
The job allocated to me by The Boss was, by his standards, pretty mild on the shit-o-meter. The items would be getting the forensic scrutiny up north, but here my task was to see if there were any clues as to where they were bought and then potentially trail them back to the purchaser. It was a long shot, so the likelihood of a successful lead was slim to none. He was setting me up to fail, which of course made me determined to make sure I didn’t.
The police photographer had done a great job of providing a detailed set of pictures for each item. There were full-view shots, close-ups on any tags and branding, weave and patterning, any stains and flaws. The only thing missing was smell-o-vision, thankfully.
The inventory list was pretty comprehensive:
Cardboard carton – sour cream and chives Heartland potato chips, eight packs.
Huggies nappy in newborn size – clearly used.
A white, cotton, crutch-domed, short-sleeved bodysuit. Simple Is Best brand.
A pastel-green, cotton, Simple Is Best brand, long-sleeved, footless stretch and grow.
A pale-yellow, acrylic yarn, button-up cardigan with white love hearts all over it. Baby Berry brand.
Cotton cell wrap in a natural colour, Simple Is Best brand.
Polar fleece wrap, with gold, silver and grey stars and moons on a pale background. No tags.
Hand-knitted hat and matching knitted booties.
With the bring-your-own bags and pack-your-own groceries policy at a number of supermarkets there were numerous places someone would be able to pick up a cardboard chippies carton. There was often a ‘help yourself to an empty box’ area in the foyer – I’d raided them myself on occasion when shifting flat or needing a decent-sized box for an op-shop run. The box was kind of a snug fit for a well-wrapped baby, but it did the job. I guessed that would prevent any movement and keep them a bit warmer. There was absolutely no point in spending time looking at supermarket security footage to spot someone grabbing an empty chips carton. It could have been picked up anytime in the last year, and from anywhere. That was beyond needle-in-a-haystack territory. Mind you, I wouldn’t put it past The Boss to make me sit and do precisely that.
The bodysuit, stretch and grow and cotton cell blanket were all Simple Is Best brand – one of those basics house brands that was the mainstay of The Big Red Shed chain store. They were produced in their gazillions – cheap as chips and high-turnover items. I know because we had some of them in the layette we’d bought for Bubs, the kind of items that if the poo-nami was too disgusting you wouldn’t feel too bad about binning.
The nappy was a Huggies brand. Available at any supermarket, Four Square or convenience store. Again, there was no way of tracing it. The only thing it could contribute to the general profile of the killer / kidnapper was that Huggies were priced at the higher end of the nappy market. Still, you couldn’t make assumptions of the socio-economic status of the perpetrator based on one shitty nappy.
The cardigan had come from Postie Plus, so again, was at the budget end of the market, from a high turnover retailer, and could have been purchased in the Dunedin store or online. An online sale would include a delivery address, so if push came to shove it was a potential avenue to try. But it could just have likely been purchased in a store, so it was a very long shot.
The polar fleece wrap with its stars and moons was really pretty, and I felt a slight twinge of blanket envy. It didn’t have any identifying brand labels, which was disappointing, so I wondered if it was handmade. It had a perfect blanket-stitch edging that could have been done on a domestic sewing machine. Even the most basic models had that stitch. I made a note to myself to check out the Spotlight or Lincraft websites to see if the fabric was listed. Otherwise a visit to them might be in order – Oh dear, how sad. I spotted with a little embarrassment the presence of some long, white cat hairs on the polar fleece. I had apologised in advance to the forensic team and warned them that Her Majesty had not been able to resist a box and a blankie.
Lastly, I turned my attention to the hand-knitted items – the little hat and the booties. They weren’t the sort of items that most people had hanging around the house in case they accidentally, or otherwise, found themselves with a baby. The fact that the perpetrators had hand-crafted items implied a number of possibilities. Firstly, that they already had children who had used them, or had them at the ready for a new arrival. Secondly, hand knits were usually made with love by relatives or friends in anticipation of an addition to the family. This gave me a sense of disquiet and again begged the question, why had baby Hope been so brutally taken in the first place? How far in advance had this been planned? Were others – friends, family – a party to it? Or had they been duped, led to believe there was going to be a legitimate arrival at this time? I guessed it would all come out in the wash – hand wash in this instance.
I looked at the pictures of the beautiful workmanship on the knitted items and smiled to myself. Dick Head Johns had put me on this task because he knew it would be a hiding to nothing, something I would fail at, and then he could crow about my shortcomings as an investigator. But, on the contrary, there was a very real possibility of a useful lead because I had something he didn’t count on. I had a secret weapon.
CHAPTER 30
I pressed the number for my secret weapon, and mentally girded myself for the conversation. Unfortunately, this secret weapon could also be a bit of a double-edged sword.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, Mum, it’s Sam.’
‘Oh, Sam, lovely to hear from you. Hang on a moment, I’ll just turn off the kettle.’
I waited a moment, listening to the click as she flicked up the switch, silencing the simmering hum in the background.
‘I’m back,’ she declared, before launching straight in, no customary hi’s or how are you’s.
‘So have you finished up at work yet? You know it’s not good for you to carry on so late in your pregnancy. You need to get some rest and get your strength up for what’s ahead. In my day we didn’t work right to the last minute like you young people do nowadays. It’s not healthy for you, or the baby.’
At some point I knew she had to draw a breath and I might get a word in.
‘Your sister-in-law was sensible and took two months off before Harriet was born.’
I liked the way she not only managed to compare me to Saint Sheryl, her beloved daughter-in-law, AKA ‘she who could do no wrong’, but with the accent on the words ‘sister-in-law’ also managed to get a subtle dig in about the fact Paul and I weren’t married, something she did not approve of. I actually really liked Sheryl, but in Mum’s eyes her attributes had grown to mythic proportions.
‘I don’t think you appreciate how tiring it is to give birth to a baby, and then have to deal with the newborn.’
I was surprised she hadn’t brought up her disapproval of my chosen profession yet, compared to Sheryl’s godly nurse status.
‘Believe me, you’ll regret not having a proper break.’ She took a pause to breathe, so I grabbed my opportunity.
‘I’ve only got a week left at work, which will give me a good couple of weeks before the baby is due.’
‘Oh, Sam, that’s not enough. What if the baby comes early? Then you will have had no time to yourself.’
‘That’s not likely to happen. My midwife said the vast majority of first babies end up overdue, so—’
‘Yes, but your job isn’t safe either. There are all sorts of stresses and dangers that could bring baby on. It’s not like Sheryl’s situation in nursing, where she was in a normal, stable environment. And they took her off night shifts early on in the piece. No, you’re out there with all of those criminals, and, you know, it’s not just about you anymore, you’ve got that baby to think of. You shouldn’t be putting it at risk.’
I was beginning to regret activating the secret weapon. She was going full guilt-trip on me. I had to somehow turn the conversation around, away from the usual expected pings and recriminations, and get to the main reason I rang her, other than getting lashings of her peculiar form of love.
‘Speaking of babies, I need to ask you a bit of a favour.’
Mum was one of these women who liked to feel needed so that she could then be martyrish about any help she gave. I felt no shame in appealing to this. Anyway, after her onslaught, I felt quite justified in deflecting her attention by pandering to her ego.
‘You know you can ask me anything.’ I almost snorted. ‘What do you need?’
‘I need your knitting expertise,’ I said. That would pique her interest.
‘Oh? Do you need some more knitting done for you?’ No I didn’t, well, yes I did, because you could never have too much, but that wasn’t the purpose of the call.
‘You know the big case we’re working on?’
‘The murder and kidnap one, where they just found the baby?’
‘Yes, that’s the one.’
‘I saw it on the news – that poor man carrying her out of the hospital to take her home. It was very upsetting, but I’m so happy she’s safe.’
We all were.
‘You know how an off-duty police officer found her?’
‘Yes, they mentioned that.’
‘That officer was me.’
‘Oh, really? That was you? But he didn’t say it was you – that man who spoke on the news, the man in charge.’
‘Detective Inspector Johns, yes, my boss.’
‘Why didn’t he say it was you?’
I’d watched the news segment, and The Boss had mentioned that a staffer found the baby, but true to form, had turned it around so it looked like the find was a result of his hard work in leading the investigation, rather than blind luck that I happened to have been walking past that particular playground in the rain and had stopped to investigate. I didn’t have the energy to go there with Mum, so I got to the point.
‘Did you notice the hat she was wearing?’ I asked.
‘I saw she had a knitted one on. It was very cute.’
‘Well, it was very cute because you made it.’
I heard a sharp intake of breath. ‘Sam, did you give away the things I knitted especially for you and my grandchild?’
Bugger. I should have anticipated she’d turn that into a negative. My bad.
‘Look, Mum, when I found her she was wet and cold, and desperately needed something warm and dry. Your hat was there and it was perfect. You have to admit, it was exceptional circumstances. And I couldn’t really ask for it back afterwards, could I? That would have just looked mean. Think of it as a gift to the wee girl from you. It’s a pretty special hat for them now.’
I could just about hear the whirr of the cogs as she thought this over, no doubt trying to find a way to turn my argument back against me, but even her abilities would be stretched to counter that reasoning.
‘Well, I guess that is rather nice, then,’ she said, slowly, making the concession. ‘You know, I thought it looked familiar, but it never occurred to me in a million years that it would be one I’d made, and that you’d passed it on to someone else.’
Ping.
I sighed. ‘Well, there is something you could do that might help us solve the case – find some justice for baby Hope’s family.’
‘I don’t see how I could be of any help. I’m not even in Dunedin, and I’m no detective.’
‘No, but you have knowledge that could be useful. When I found her, she had on a lovely hand-knitted hat and some booties that were really quite distinctive. It was a cabled pattern and variegated wool. Do you still belong to that big knitting group on Facebook?’
‘Yes, of course I do. I like keeping up with what everyone else is making.’ I imagined she posted pictures of her work on the page – well, I hoped she did, because she was a very beautiful and skilled knitter, her work was near perfection. She had tried to teach me, which was excruciating for us both, and I could do the basics, but I left the complicated stuff up to the pro.
