A Thousand Cuts Read online

  Instead I stood up, found the bottle, wrenched it out of the cupboard, and sat back down in the chair closest to the fire. I screwed open the cap of the bottle, lifting it to wipe the rim. I took a swig. I’d expected that Abbie would try again to get me to come to bed and all I wanted was to be left alone with my misery. I'd need to offend her just enough that she would leave me alone, yet not so much that she’d never speak to me again.

  "I'll get you a glass,” she said and disappeared into the kitchen.

  She returned and left the glass beside the bottle on the floor. I didn't touch it. She sat silently on the couch for a while.

  "Come to bed Jack, it's late.”

  "I'm not interested in a night of angry sleeping. Leave me to my bottle and my misery,” I said.

  That did the trick. Abby spun and headed for the stairs.

  The nights were getting colder now. The scotch tasted better for having sat in the cupboard for months. I took another swig from the bottle. If I was going to sit there for God knew how long, I'd need some heat. I spotted the newspaper and kindling beside the fireplace.

  Reluctantly, I pushed myself up and out of the chair leaving the scotch on the hardwood floor momentarily. I scrunched up the newspaper quickly and shoved balls of it along the bottom before placing kindling on top, in no attempt at real order. The matches were on the shelf above the fireplace and I lit one and held it in front of a piece of paper until a flame took hold.

  Once I was back in the chair, I started again with my trip down melancholy lane. Today's crime scene wasn't enough to end my career, but it could potentially be marriage-ending. I'd need to do something, some grand gesture, maybe dinner or flowers, something extravagant and unusual. I'd think more about it in the morning; tonight was pretty much a write-off.

  Tomorrow, I'd go and visit the Holmes residence, and read the files for the Baker and Wentworth murders if I could get hold of them. The investigation, even in its early stages, hung heavily on Gemma's memories. Hopefully, she’d seen the man who’d abducted her sister. It was highly unlikely a woman committed the crime; although not impossible, it was rare.

  The reassuring and long-forgotten sensation of the scotch warming my chest increased in intensity as I took another mouthful.

  I sat back down in the now full darkness of the living room, Abbie had turned the lights off on her way to bed. Shards of moonlight from the gap in the curtains fell across the floor. Tomorrow, I'd follow up on the other two child murder cases. If I didn't hear back from Rae Swanson then, I’d call her pager; I’d already left her a voicemail and sent a text. I also needed to find out who’d worked the murders here in Crime Command.

  I didn't want to think about how Jessica Holmes had felt, what she'd gone through as she'd sustained the countless burn marks on her limbs. How any individual could watch as they inflicted that much pain on a small child was beyond me. As for the ligature marks, they almost looked like she’d been hung up on a cross, one rope on each wrist. I ‘saw’ Jessica Holmes hanging there, an image I couldn’t shake. In my mind, she hung on two planks of wood in a cross configuration, her wrists and ankles bound to one of the wooden palings; her body sagged, putting unknown pressure on her limbs.

  Her eyes were red and filled with tears, her energy fading as the last ounces of life prepared to leave. But she was hanging on with all that she had. In my mind, I had found Jessica in time.

  "Help me,” she said, her voice a whisper. The words came out like the mew of a newborn kitten. The cigarette burns were fresh, and spots of blood and pus had begun to form, alongside bruising of every colour. She was in the middle of the forest at Sherbrooke National Park, not a soul in sight.

  Who put her there? Where was the killer? No matter; there’d be time for that later. For now, I just had to call an ambulance; if they got here in time, they just might be able to save her.

  I looked around for my phone but couldn't see it. Jessica called out to me again, her cries more desperate. The terrain was overgrown, full of long grass, tree ferns, and saplings. Dew hung heavy on the bushes. I propelled myself forward, lifting myself up to a standing position. My feet sank into the mud, but I wouldn't let that stop me. This was my chance, my chance to save her. Despite the mud, I drove myself forward, willing myself to reach her in time and cut her down.

  She closed her eyes and dropped her head. This was it. I threw myself at her but landed heavily on the ground. I blacked out at that moment and when I came to, I was back in the lounge room, lying face-first flat across the hardwood floor.

  The fire was almost out, embers glowing, ashy wood burnt down to almost nothing. I looked in the bottle and saw it was empty. I didn't remember drinking all of it.

  So much for drinking to forget. The nightmare had seemed so real but I should've known when I saw Jessica alive, that it was my mind playing tricks. None of it was real. My desperate desire to erase the memory had caused the vivid nightmare. And somehow, having seen the little girl alive now made reality starker.

  Lying flat on my face in the lounge room, plastered and disoriented, wasn't my finest moment. I rubbed my face and hoped it wouldn't bruise.

  Maybe this was a sign I shouldn't drink, not that I ever paid much attention to signs, only to the harsh reality—and this reality was far too harsh for my liking.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Will Holmes didn't look any better for the twenty-four hours I'd spent away from him. The dark cavernous bags under his eyes from the day before had become cavernous suitcases. He didn't look as if he'd slept at all. The three-day growth was now a four-day growth. He probably hadn’t had a shower, but then who could blame him considering the circumstances? I shuddered to think how I would react if I lost my Maddy or Molly.

  I’d decided to come alone today, figuring I’d get more from him that way. I reckoned the day before had overwhelmed him, with the devastating blow of his daughter's death, the number of police members in his home, and his wife's reaction. So, I wanted to try and keep it low-key today. It would mean more information, I hoped, and if all went as it should, young Gemma held the key.

  After opening the door a crack, Will turned and shuffled away through the house toward the kitchen table. I followed behind and he pulled out a chair. I sat on the chair opposite and retrieved the notepad from my jacket pocket.

  "How's your ex-wife doing?” I said. I got the impression they hadn't been separated for too long, but I couldn't be sure. Judging by the fact that she had a new boyfriend, possibly enough time had passed that the bitterness might ease eventually.

  "They had to hospitalise her again. Sounds like another nervous breakdown. She’s been more on edge than usual even before the news. Doesn't surprise me she didn't take it well, because I was on track to get full custody of the kids, you know. She's had a drinking problem for years,” Will said, staring down at the table.

  "I'm sorry to hear that,” I said.

  "So, where is this all at?” Will mumbled. "I know it's early days but she's already asking who did it. Even if I can't stand her prick of a boyfriend, it would be nice to give her an answer. She’s so paranoid now and jittery about Gemma, she sent him over to stand over and watch Gemma like a hawk. Like—what the hell? Does she think I can't take care of our daughter? If we weren't already separated, we would be by now. She blames me for Jessica's death, just like she blames me for most shit that goes wrong."

  I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so decided it was best to say nothing.

  "Would it be okay if I spoke to Gemma? At the park they played in? Maybe we could walk there if it's not too far,” I said. Besides, I reckoned a short walk might do Will good. Of course, I wouldn't say anything, but it wouldn't surprise me if Will hadn't left the house for days, other than possibly working before he got yesterday’s news.

  "Yeah, okay. I'll go and send Eric the worm home. They're out in the backyard."

  Will got up and I followed through the doorway, across the family room and out to the back patio. He pushed the back doo
r open.

  "Gemma!” he called. "Come inside. The detective wants to ask you a few questions, honey.”

  Gemma ran over to the doorway, out of breath. An anxious look appeared on her face when she saw me. I stood aside and she walked inside to a seat in the family room.

  Gemma's blonde hair fell down her back. Her cheeks were pink, and she was still breathing heavily. She would be their one hope, the one remaining child. I felt for her, having lost her only sister at such a young age. I could kind of understand why Will's wife Melinda was so possessive of her after the shock of losing Jessica in such horrible circumstances.

  Eric followed behind her and walked through the house to the front door. He called out and said goodbye to Gemma and Will, his tone abrupt, but then there wasn’t much love lost between the two men, so it didn't surprise me.

  The younger girl got up and stood in front of me and suddenly became shy, her expression changing and eyes now cast downward. She was wringing her hands and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

  "Hi, Gemma,” I said. "Thanks for talking to me. This doesn't have to take long but any information you can give me will really help, okay?” I said. Will placed one hand on her right shoulder protectively.

  "I'll grab your jacket,” said Will. He disappeared and came back with a red quilted jacket, which he wrapped around her shoulders.

  I shoved the notebook inside my pocket. Then I followed Will and Gemma to the front door.

  "It's not far,” Will said. "Probably do us good to get out of the house.”

  We walked about two hundred metres to the park. Will and Gemma didn't speak and given their loss, I left them to their own thoughts. The time for questioning would be once we reached the park.

  The park was a decent size with lots of play equipment and a few younger children playing. Gemma walked towards the outskirts of the play area where the fake turf ended, wood chips covering the ground.

  She seemed nervous, hesitant like she wanted to play but playing would be a bad thing. Her father leaned down to whisper in her ear. "It's okay, honey, you're not doing anything wrong; the policeman is here to help,” he said. "Tell him everything you can; anything you say will help him find the bad man that hurt your sister, okay?"

  Gemma wrung her hands and looked down at the ground. She didn't seem convinced. “Okay, Daddy,” she said quietly. I looked across at Will to reassure him I wouldn't traumatise Gemma.

  I squatted down, to be at Gemma's level. Experience told me this was the best way to establish rapport.

  "Gemma, can you tell me what happened, and show me exactly where you were that day? Whether you think it's important or not,” I said. I took a deep breath and waited.

  "Well, I was… I was playing here. Playing… on the monkey bars. And I noticed Jessica had run-off,” she said in a quiet voice.

  "Okay. What happened next?"

  "I was playing with Robbie. When I looked up, Jessica had run to the edge of the park.” Gemma pointed to the fence at the edge of the park, beside the car park. “And she was talking to a man with red hair.” She screwed her face up and looked like she was ready to cry.

  "You're doing great, Gemma, really great. Do you remember what car he drove? I mean, did you see a car?” I said, trying to keep the intensity I felt, from affecting my voice. I didn't want to put more pressure on her than she already felt.

  "A red truck. I think. I've seen him here before. Other kids got to know him; we called him the puppy man,” she said, warming up to the task now.

  Now we were getting somewhere.

  "What do you mean by the puppy man?” I said. I squatted down a bit lower to look at Gemma's face, squinting as bright sunlight pierced my eyes.

  "Everyone knows the puppy man. He comes to the park all the time. He asks if we want to go and see the puppies. Most of us don't go, because…”

  She faltered, her eyes turned red, and tears welled. Her lip quivered.

  “Because what, Gemma?”

  She sniffed. Her voice was shaky, and when she spoke again, it was very quiet. I almost couldn’t hear her.

  “Because…we know not to go with strangers. I should've shouted louder. And I did shout, you know… but she didn't hear me, so I went back to playing. It's all my fault she's dead."

  I wanted to comfort her, to reassure her none of this was her fault, but Will had already taken her into his arms and picked her up, holding her close.

  "Hey, enough of that,” Will said. "None of this is your fault, we all miss her."

  Gemma was inconsolable, her cries intensifying until the sobs that racked her chest stopped.

  I figured I'd take the opportunity to talk to a few of the children in the playground. I thought about letting Will know of my plans, but he was oblivious, consoling Gemma as best he could.

  I walked to the far end of the playground equipment where a diamond-shaped rope climbing frame was the focus. A dark-haired boy stood to one side, watching two other boys attempt to reach the summit.

  "Hello,” I said. The boy took a small step backwards and eyed me warily.

  "It's okay,” I said, removing my badge from my coat pocket. “I’m a police officer, see?" The boy peered over and, after staring down his nose at my badge, seemed satisfied. "I'm here about the disappearance of the little girl Jessica, about a week ago. Do you remember it?” I asked.

  "Yeah. I remember it," said the boy. "Mum wouldn't let me come down to the park for days. Wasn't fair, I told her none of us talk to strangers. But Jessica did."

  "Can you tell me if you saw the person that spoke to Jessica? Did you see her talk to someone?” I asked, squatting down again.

  "Yeah; we all know him. Puppy guy’s a creep. I don't know who falls for that line he tries! He's asked me before if I want to come see the puppies. Mum’s told me about weirdos like him, and I ran away from him, ran really fast. Jessica should never have talked to him. I mean, it was obvious he was a weirdo."

  I stood up. The kid looked to me to be about twelve but was obviously street-wise. A thought occurred to me, explaining some of the inconsistencies in Gemma’s description.

  "Did you see Gemma call out to Jessica?” I said.

  "I saw Gemma playing… but she never called out to Jessica. She just kept on playing," the boy said. I took a step closer.

  "Are you sure? It's really important,” I said.

  "Yeah, I remember because I saw Jessica run over to him, I thought it was weird that Gemma didn't call out to her from the playground, especially when we all know he’s a weirdo.”

  "Thanks,” I said. The kid pulled his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them. He scuffed the bark with one of his brown boots, before taking hold of the tip of his right boot and removing it to empty bark out.

  Turning my head, I saw Will hugging Gemma. He released her and held her face in his hands. I needed to treat this one carefully, but if Gemma was lying about what really happened that day, I needed to know.

  "We're heading home,” said Will, taking hold of his daughter’s hand.

  "I have one last question for Gemma if that's okay,” I said, moving closer to where they both stood.

  "Gemma, this is important. Did you really call out to Jessica when she ran over to the man? Or did you let her go?” I asked quietly.

  Gemma kept her head down and wouldn't look at me. I saw Will’s grip tighten on her hand, and tension tracked up his arm muscles. I knew he wouldn’t like me asking this. But I had to.

  "It really is important, Gemma. One of the kids… he said you didn't call out to her, and I'm going to track down some people, but I need to know you're telling the truth,” I said.

  Will stepped forward a little, in front of his little girl. “Okay, now… you can’t…” He sounded horrified, appalled I would put his daughter on the spot. I pretended not to have heard him; Gemma was taking in what I’d said, and in a moment, I knew she would speak. Her breaths were short and panicked, and she whimpered.

  Her face crumpled, and she
let out a squealing sound. Tears fell down her face.

  "This is all my fault. Everyone knows about the puppy man! He's a creep. But I wanted to keep on playing for a while. And I thought she'd be okay, and I never thought something would happen to her…and I didn't call out to her. And I didn’t…I didn’t… “

  She broke down as Will smoothed her hair and held her close. But she hadn’t finished. “Gemma?” I said. I touched her lightly on the arm. “You are not in any trouble. You are a brave, brave girl. Just tell me what you did.”

  She inhaled deeply.

  “A couple of minutes later, I turned to where the man had been,” she said. “And I looked back at where he was… with his truck… and he was gone! And so was Jessica. So I went home…I ran home… to get Dad! Maybe if I’d called out to her, this never would've happened, and she'd still be alive.”

  Gemma collapsed into a fit of sobs.

  Will put his hands on his daughter’s arms and knelt down in front of her.

  "Honey, this is not your fault. Don't think that for a second, Gemma," Will said. He made no effort to keep the anger out of his voice.

  "That's more than enough for one day,” he told me. “But here's a tip. If you ever do you find the bastard that did this, you better not tell me his name."

  I stuffed my hands back in my pockets and stared down at my shoes, before looking back up at Will's tortured face. "Because if I ever find the piece of shit that killed my daughter, I'll kill him myself.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The grotesque sight of Jessica Holmes’s body hanging on a makeshift cross persisted, a vulture, circling, waiting to sap my energy, willing me to fail. No way in hell would I fail. I rubbed my eyes and tried to run closer, to pull her body down and apply CPR, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move.