A Thousand Cuts Read online

  A Thousand Cuts

  A N Drew

  NB: As I am Australian, I have used UK English

  Copyright ©2019 by A N Drew

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Once, a new detective told me murder scenes didn’t get to him—he’d acquired the art of detachment.

  I knew right then he was full of shit.

  I might have believed him once, might have felt like he did. For almost twenty years, I'd kept my job as a homicide detective at arm’s length, staying professional, maintaining a sense of distance at the murder scene and during the investigation.

  Until the murder of seven-year-old, Jessica Holmes.

  Some cases stand out. They stay with you. They take a piece of your soul and you never get it back.

  I'd been a detective sergeant at Crime Command in the central business district of Melbourne for more years than I could count. That morning I’d been in the office since eight a.m., I’d been working on another job when my desk phone chirped.

  "DS Jack Fletcher speaking."

  "Jack, got a job for you.” I recognised the gravelly voice of Harry Filsche at Knox Crime Investigation Division, CID, straight away.

  I rested one elbow on the desk. "Hey, Harry. Where and what?"

  "Sherbrooke National Park. Hikers found a body. Called it in. The divisional van's been out, and I've just come back from the scene. Definitely suspicious." Harry paused. "This one's a kid."

  An ache formed at the back of my throat. Four days earlier, I'd visited the distraught Holmes family after their daughter Jessica didn’t come home from the park across the road. Her older sister had come home alone. Despite exhaustive searches by the Police Emergency Service and other volunteers, Jessica hadn't been found. I offered up a silent hope this wasn't her body.

  "The team there? Forensics?” I said.

  "Yeah, your boss is on the way, and the rest of the team. Forensics are setting up. Prepare yourself though. The body's been staged, and the girl was sexually assaulted and tortured before death. She definitely didn't do it to herself.” He paused for a moment. "I'll send through the GPS location."

  "Okay, thanks I'm on it.” I hung up, grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair, scooped up my keys and wallet from the top drawer, and headed for the exit.

  "Out on a job, Jerry,” I called out to Jerry Wallace, another detective sitting at the desk diagonally across from me. He looked deep in the middle of writing a report.

  "Right, Jack." Wallace kept his focus on the keyboard.

  A slight breeze blew as I pushed the back door open, and my boots crunched on concrete steps as I made my way down. Leaves from the trees and bushes had made their way into the underground car park, as autumn set in. I’d parked my white Ford Falcon just a few feet away and pushed the remote to unlock it. As I started up the Falcon, my phone pinged. Harry had come through with the GPS location, and I paused to activate the map.

  Sherbrooke National Park, a huge stretch of government land, covered thousands of acres. A prime place to dump a body.

  Murders left an imprint on the soul, but a child—an innocent child—was a category all by itself.

  No one liked child killers, not even other crims.

  I knew I’d be spending some time in the car, driving from the city to Sherbrooke, so I turned the music up; it was an attempt at distraction.

  The car stopped at the traffic lights. I knew the route; friends lived in the area and I’d driven through it many times, down the freeway, exiting at Burwood Highway. Then on to the fork in the road at the foot of the mountain, taking a right onto Mount Dandenong Road. The distraction didn’t work. I couldn't stop thinking about the Holmes family, their faces when I’d visited them last to take Jessica’s missing person’s report, and I wondered if this body was their daughter.

  The father, Will, had collapsed with grief and fallen from the kitchen chair. I’d used one arm to prop him up, so he didn’t hit the floor. His wife Melinda had arrived a few minutes later; and to my shock, she stood and verbally picked Will apart at every opportunity, taking out her fury on him. And he simply sat there and took it, looking dazed and useless.

  Later, when I was alone with Will, it was no surprise when he quietly mentioned they’d separated recently. Jessica’s distressed ten-year-old sister Gemma didn’t fare so well either. She said when she’d stopped playing, she couldn’t find her sister. And as most cops know, when missing children don’t turn up later that night, the best time to find them alive is in the hours that follow, not four days later.

  I attempted to shift my thoughts from the new job in Sherbrooke to other things, but all I could think of was Will Holmes, and how he’d react if the body did turn out to be his beloved daughter.

  I turned into the Sherbrooke forest parking area, usually empty and currently filled with the forensic team’s vehicles, a marked police car, and Ed Garrett’s unmarked Falcon.

  I trekked across from the car park down a slight slope and towards a clearing, a path worn down by thousands of footsteps. It led inward for about a kilometre, until I saw the tape. A uniformed officer stood guard at the scene, Gary Webb.

  Normally, we’d have smiled at each other. Today, I knew no smiles would be on anyone’s face. I flashed my badge according to protocol. Webb wrote down my details on his clipboard and waved me through. My knees grazed against bushes laced with dew hanging across the dirt trail.

  I saw the clearing ahead. In front of me stood another crime command detective sergeant, Andy Collen, just a hundred metres or so ahead. He rubbed his face. His suit looked rumpled and a two-day growth darkened his cheeks and chin. Collen nodded as he caught sight of me.

  “Worked through eh?” I said, slightly out of breath as I reached his side.

  He grunted. Judging by the redness of his face and the pressure building behind it, he struggled to keep himself together. I gazed around to take in the surroundings, looking for either Ed Garrett—one of our homicide detectives—or Selena, Team Leader and the immediate superior to many of us.

  The place was crawling with activity.

  I spotted Selena Hicks, Team Leader and my supervisor, her head down in conversation with a forensic technician about thirty metres away. Another detective, D.S. Ed Garrett, stood over by the body.

  “What we got, Ed?” I called as I drew closer, wondering if he’d even manage a response.

  “Little girl tortured then killed,” Garrett stared at the ground. I lifted my knees high to get through the gr
owth and head toward him, and grass swished behind me as Collen followed.

  “Rough one, huh?” We’d reached the body now, and there was silence in the forest other than the occasional call of a lone lyrebird.

  The body lay in a clearing, naked, with blonde hair splayed on the forest floor. A knot formed in my stomach. I couldn’t help noticing she had the same colour hair as my youngest daughter, Maddy, except lighter blonde streaks were running through the dead girl’s hair.

  “I’ve got kids, like you,” Garrett said. “A little girl. Could be my daughter. Kids are never easy.”

  “Yeah.” I rubbed a light sheen of sweat from my forehead.

  My throat ached, and I swallowed hard. This little girl had been tortured before death, her body littered with small cuts and cigarette burns. Naked, her hands had been folded across her chest, most likely deliberately staged. We stared at the body for what seemed to be a long time but was probably no more than thirty seconds.

  In the past, I’d been proud that as a homicide detective of nearly two decades, I’d become acclimatised to most crimes, more professional, more focused. And all those illusions were now shattered.

  The cuts on the girl’s body covered almost every available inch of skin. Cigarette burns littered her torso. This little girl hadn’t just been murdered; she’d suffered a slow agony of torture.

  “Sexual assault?” I said. One of the forensic techs in a white jumpsuit had begun taking photos of the body.

  It took a while before Ed responded.

  “Yeah, the government pathologist’s about to transport the body. I know there’s sickos out there, but this… I’ve never seen anything like this...” Ed’s voice didn’t increase in volume.

  “Yeah.” I did my best to push down the queasiness rising in my gut. “Not looking forward to telling the Holmes family.”

  “You know this girl?” said Ed, taking a step closer toward me.

  “Jessica Holmes. Parents reported her missing four days ago.”

  Both of us knew how that would go, having done countless notifications. I’d been in daily contact with Jessica’s parents, and police emergency services combined with local volunteers had searched every inch of the park where she’d disappeared, as well as the surrounding areas. As a parent myself, I’d made it a point to visit Jessica’s father daily and his face had become a deeper shade of ash with each passing day.

  Will asked me to make a promise I’d find his daughter. I knew better than to make one I couldn’t keep but I did promise to do everything in my power to find her.

  I hadn’t wanted to say out loud what we both already suspected; if Jessica hadn’t been found on the first day, we probably wouldn’t find her alive.

  “Shit,” Collen said, staring at a point in the distance. “The media’s here.”

  A truck rumbled into the car park, most likely Ted Richards from Channel Six. Ted had a reputation for pushing his luck with investigations, but there was no way in hell he would get information before the body had been identified, or the family contacted.

  I breathed deeply through my nose, attempting to stop the nausea.

  “I’ll sort this out,” I strode towards the car park, arms swinging. I heard footsteps behind me.

  “Leave it, mate, let the boss sort it out. Better we talk to the techs, then the government pathologist. Don’t get into it.” I ignored Ed, increasing my pace.

  I was primed and ready for Ted Richards. I pushed up the police tape and marched towards the car park. Richards, tall, thin and grey-haired, stood with his microphone next to the blue and white truck with a satellite dish perched on top.

  Unbelievable.

  The gravel of the car park crunched under my feet. Richards lowered the microphone for a moment.

  “Jack, any comment on the case?” he said, gripping the microphone. I stopped inches away, glaring at him, shoving balled fists into my pockets. Maybe that way, I’d be less inclined to break his nose. Richards and I had shared an uneasy alliance over the years. I’d given him one or two exclusives when it suited me, so it seemed he now thought it gave him full rein to call me regularly, in repeated attempts to get inside information. I usually knocked him back. Over the years, we’d fallen into what I’d foolishly assumed was an understanding.

  “You couldn’t have called?” A muscle flickered in my left cheek.

  Richards smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. “You wouldn’t have taken the call, Jack, let’s be honest. All bets are off on this one, a child’s been killed and we both know what that means.” I unclenched and clenched my fists, pushing them further down into my pockets.

  “How do you know it involves a child, Ted?”

  “I never disclose my sources.” I wanted to wipe the smug look off Richards’ face and swallowed the burning rage rising in my chest. Andy Collen appeared at my side and muttered quietly, “Easy, Jack, he’s not worth it.”

  Birds chirped, breaking the silence.

  Surrounded by sublime rainforest, I still wanted to punch the man’s lights out.

  “Our media unit deals with this type of thing,” I said, taking a large breath of rainforest air. “You really think we’re going to give you information on an active case before the government pathologist’s been out and the victim’s been identified? Before the family’s been notified? Seriously?”

  Richards reddened. I took a step closer, almost nose to nose with him. Collen put his hand on my right arm.

  Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind us, and Selena stopped to my left, not making eye contact; rather, she fixed her gaze on Ted Richards, and his cameraman, Jethroe.

  Selena had a reputation as a formidable force, now she was Team Leader and not someone to be tangled with.

  She’d risen through the ranks from a rookie, to the Drug Squad, to Homicide and eventually as Team Leader in record time. She and I had worked together for a few years now, and although she gave me a fairly long leash, I didn’t want to overstep the mark too much. The slack leash was the only thing preventing me from punching Richards’ lights out.

  She was shorter than me but—with her hands-on-hips stance—seemed to have no sense of being any smaller than her subordinates. She usually led with her chin, or in this case, her hawk-like nose. I’d figured early on that it might have been the reason she’d been dubbed ‘The Hawk.’

  Selena Hicks had watched it all. She observed the situation with intense ferocity.

  “Mr. Richards,” she said, her lips thinned and bared her teeth in what might have appeared to Richards to be a smile. I knew it as a warning sign to run as far away as humanly possible. “All media enquiries are handled by our media unit, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

  The appeasing smile had vanished from Richards’ face. He seemed unsure, palms up.

  “Didn’t mean any offence; just doing our job,” he said. The cameraman lowered the camera from his shoulder, and it hovered over the case behind him.

  “So, you’ll understand we need to do ours. No details are provided on an ongoing investigation, particularly in such early stages. Our media unit will be in touch,” said Selena between gritted teeth.

  Jethroe looked in Richards’ direction for a clue of what to do next. “We’ll just wait here then, if you could notify your media unit?” Richards appeared to have recovered from his initial surprise at the appearance of the big boss.

  “Mr. Richards,” Selena said. “The government pathologist will be removing the body. As you can see, there is limited space in the car park, as it’s a small area usually frequented by hikers. I’d appreciate it if you could move on to allow space for them to do their job.” She glared at him, and Richards’ Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

  “Last I checked, this area was public property,” he said. I shut my eyes before opening them up with a grin. Ted Richards had decided to push his luck. What a surprise.

  “Are you blind, Mr. Richards?” Selena gestured towards the car park, where vehicles were packed tightly, just millimet
res between them. “This is a crime scene. The government pathologist’s vehicle will need to leave, and with your truck here, access is not exactly unimpeded. I’ll tell you again; pack up and vacate this crime scene now, or I’ll consider charges of obstructing an investigation.”

  “Is that a threat?” he muttered, but his face reddened, and with a raise of his chin, he indicated that Jethroe should pack up the camera. Jethroe lifted the handle of the camera case and walked back to the Channel Six truck.

  “That’s not a threat, it’s a promise.” Hicks’s hands had moved from her hips to gesturing wildly.

  Ted muttered something unintelligible, and finally conceding defeat, turned and walked slowly back to the van. Hicks turned in my direction.

  “Head back to Crime Command, Fletcher, you’re no good here,” she said, her eyes boring holes into my face.

  “The crime scene’s just been set up, and it’s a kid, a girl...” I swallowed hard to push down the gristle that had formed in my throat.

  “I know. We’re all struggling, but head back, Jack, not here, not now.” The lines on her face relaxed.

  “I met the parents when they reported their daughter missing. Just a few more minutes, then I’ll get out of here.” I rubbed the back of my neck with my right hand.

  “No Jack, now.” She stared at me, giving me the frown reserved for special occasions. I knew from experience there was no sense in arguing the point.

  Collen nodded and lifted his hand briefly in a goodbye, then headed back to the crime scene.

  I stormed back to the car, ignoring the Channel Six cronies. Jethroe offered a pathetic attempt at a wave from the passenger-side window of the truck as it rumbled past.

  As I reached the car, I jabbed the remote-control button, unlocked it and swung in hard. I sat for a few seconds, clenching my teeth before swearing loudly. I let what I’d just witnessed sink in, but pictures of the scene pushed their way in, the tortured body of Jessica Holmes.

  The fact the fragile body had been left naked wasn’t what stayed with me, it was the countless tiny cuts all over her lifeless frame. None of them looked like they’d taken her life, but if she’d been alive at the time, each cut would have inflicted horrible pain on an innocent child.