CHAPTER THREE
The icy sleet bit into Clayton Munro’s cheeks, scorching them with its silent fury. He tugged up the collar of his jacket and tried to ward off the bitter chill. The Woden Cemetery was deserted. Canberra, in July, wasn’t the place to be outdoors if you had a choice.
But that was it. He didn’t have a choice.
Plenty would disagree with him. After all, she’d been gone nearly three years. More time than some people stayed together. More time than he’d been her husband.
Ancient pine trees stood silent witness, dark and heavy in the winter gloom. He kneeled beside the headstone and stared at the letters carved into the unforgiving stone.
Lisa Anne Munro.
Beloved wife of Clayton
Mother of Olivia
1st March, 1983—2nd September, 2008.
Forever in our hearts.
With an unsteady hand, he reached out and traced her name. Even through the thick leather of his gloves, he was sure he could feel her warmth.
Which was just plain stupid.
He knew that. With his head, he knew that. It was his heart that refused to believe it.
Tears pricked the back of his eyes. He swiped at the moisture with his hand.
For Christ’s sake, she was dead. When was he going to let go and get on with his life? Wasn’t that what everyone kept telling him to do? Even his brother had weighed in the last time, which just went to show that crap about twins being in tune with one another was total bullshit.
And what about Olivia? How was a four-year-old meant to understand why her mother wasn’t there to kiss her goodnight? Christ, he still struggled with that.
Now he was expected to carry on without her—had even managed to do so. At least, that’s what they thought. He couldn’t bring himself to tell them it was all a lie.
He was a lie. He hadn’t moved on. He couldn’t. His life had ended when she’d swallowed the bottle of sleeping pills.
The sound of his phone ringing against his chest snagged his attention. He stood a little stiffly and tried to ignore it. On the fourth ring, he cursed and dragged it out of his pocket. Why the hell couldn’t they just leave him alone?
“For fuck’s sake, Riley, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not interested. I couldn’t care less if she has legs up to her armpits and tits the size of Pamela Anderson’s. The answer’s no.”
“Legs up to her armpits? Pamela Anderson? Are you kidding? Even I’d be interested in seeing that.”
His heart skipped a beat. The voice was familiar, even though he hadn’t heard it in a long time.
“Ben? Is that you? Christ, uh… I thought you were… Never mind. Why the hell are you calling? I haven’t heard from you in years.”
Ben Walker chuckled. “Sounds like you were expecting someone else, Clay. Is that twin brother of yours still trying to set you up? I thought a man of your advanced years would have settled down long ago.”
Clayton’s heart pounded. His throat constricted. Ben didn’t know. He didn’t know about Lisa. He snatched a breath of air and fought to answer. “Twenty-eight’s not all that advanced, Ben. Besides, it’s not a crime to be single.”
“Well, you’ve certainly got that right, but I’m surprised a man of your good looks and charm’s still on the market.”
Clayton winced. He had to tell him. He owed him that much. “The truth is, Ben, I was married.”
“Was? I take it things didn’t work out.”
Breathing got even more difficult. “Kind of. The thing is, Lisa… She…she died a few years ago.”
The line went silent. He braced himself for the usual well-meaning, but ultimately pointless platitudes.
“Clay, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Why didn’t I hear about it?”
Clayton pinched his eyes shut and tried to block the pain. “I don’t know, Ben. I thought it would have filtered down to you by now. Maybe everyone thought you knew.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear now. I can’t imagine how difficult it’s been for you.”
Guilt over the manner of Lisa’s death assailed him. He remained silent, not even trying to fight it.
Ben cleared his throat. “Listen, the reason I’m calling is to ask for your help. I’ve got a bit of a situation up here and I could really use your take on it.”
Despite the turmoil in his head, Clayton heard the defeat in the voice of the man who’d been his boyhood hero. Pushing his own problems aside, he focused on the conversation.
“What kind of situation?”
* * *
Ben appeared in the doorway of his office. “You two, I need to see you. In here. Now.”
Luke shot Ellie a questioning look.
“Beats me,” she mumbled. She pushed back her chair and headed toward Ben’s office, Luke close behind.
“Shut the door behind you, will you?”
Nerves mingled with dread in Ellie’s stomach. The last time they’d been summoned, Josie Ward had gone missing. Was still missing. It had been nearly a fortnight. Evelyn Ward would be out of her mind.
“I know you’ve been putting in big hours trying to identify the head. I also know you haven’t been getting very far. The Missing Persons Unit has come up with nothing so far. We know it can’t be Josie Ward and Sally Batten’s parents have ruled her out.” His gaze narrowed on Ellie’s. “Am I correct?”
She nodded and swallowed against the tension that tightened her throat.
“This girl belongs to someone. Every day is another day her family still suffers the pain of not knowing.”
The lines of fatigue marking Ben’s face deepened. Guilt weighed Ellie down, making it difficult to breathe. It was her investigation but it was going nowhere. Dammit, she was responsible for finding the killer...
Ben turned away and stared out of the window. The pale winter sun shone feebly through the glass, refracting light off several steel-framed photographs that lined the bookcase adjacent. With her newfound knowledge of her boss’ tragedy, Ellie scanned the pictures for a glimpse of his long-lost daughter. And found her.
Her heart thudded beneath the cotton drill of her jacket. She swallowed quickly against the surge of emotion and looked away. Another lost child.
Too close to home. Way too close.
“I’ve decided to bring in some help.”
Her gaze swung back to Ben’s.
“I know we don’t have an ID on Jane Doe, and until we do, we won’t know if there’s any connection between her and the missing girls, but knowing there’s someone out there capable of cutting off a woman’s head while she’s still breathing chills me to the bone. I’ve applied to the powers that be for additional resources. They’ve agreed to pay for the services of an Australian Federal Police criminal profiler.”
Ben stared at Ellie and then switched his gaze to Luke, his expression somber. “I think we could use his take on this.”
What for? Memories of her ex-fiancée swamped Ellie’s mind. Robert Stevens, Federal Agent. The man whose career had meant more to him than his pregnant fiancé. The man who’d decided a wife and child would cramp his style, would hold him back from his dreams of Federal Agent glory. Oh yes, she knew firsthand what Feds were like.
A protest burst from her mouth. “But, sir, I hear what you’re saying, but it’s only been a fortnight. Surely, we don’t need to call in the AFP yet?”
“I understand your reluctance, Ellie, but the trail’s going cold. When I get approval to call in specialist services, there’s no way in hell I’m going to turn it down.”
“But—”
Ben held up his hand. “I know what everyone thinks of the Feds and there are a few who deserve your low opinion, but this guy’s different. I promise you. I’ve known him since he was a kid. Apart from that, he has an enviable solve rate. We couldn’t ask for someone better.”
Ellie swallowed a sigh of defeat, knowing this was one battle she wasn’t going to win. Besides, the extra manpower and a fresh set of eyes and ears could only help their investigation. But did the help have to come from a Fed?
Ben caught her eye, his expression hard. “I expect you to assist Federal Agent Munro in whatever way you can. He’s here to help. You’ll set aside any ego or misplaced sense of territorialism and get on with finding this killer. Do you understand?”
Ellie lowered her gaze. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” His voice was dismissive. His attention turned to the massive pile of paperwork that spilled across his desk. In silence, Luke followed Ellie to the door.
“That goes for you too, Detective Baxter. I won’t have an officer under my command treat an investigator who’s doing all of us a favor, with anything but courtesy and respect.”
“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”
Luke closed the door behind them.
* * *
Clayton found the taxi stand outside Sydney’s Mascot Airport and joined the queue of travelers waiting for a ride. People were tightening their coats against the cool breeze that drifted in from Port Botany. The temperature had dropped along with the sun, but even the worst of Sydney’s winter chill had nothing on Canberra and now he barely felt its effects.
His flight had been uneventful and he’d used the short time in the air to mull over the details of Ben’s case. The unidentified head intrigued him, as did the way it had been severed from the girl’s body.
He’d only come across one similar case during his career, when a disagreement between a boner from the abattoirs and her unfortunate husband had turned violent. The autopsy had revealed over forty stab wounds, some so vicious they’d severed his spinal cord. The woman had carved up his body with her knife and had then concealed the pieces in garbage bags, disposing of them in various dumpsters around the small country town where she’d lived.
Bridget Bowen was now serving twenty-five years in prison with a non-parole period of fifteen. Although she hadn’t used a hacksaw, the level of her savagery had snagged his attention. And even with all her brutality, Bridget Bowen had waited until her husband was dead before cutting him into pieces.
Clayton’s lips tightened. It never ceased to shock him, the level of malice one human being could direct toward another. He supposed that was a good thing: He hadn’t become so de-sensitized to the frequent horror of his job that he’d lost his ability to care.
He did care…for all of them. Perhaps, too much. Memories of the victims he’d managed to save brought him comfort during the silent, lonely hours before dawn when he’d wake and remember Lisa was gone.
His hand drifted to the wedding band that hung from a chain around his neck and he took comfort from the warm weight of it. He’d taken it off his finger a year ago and only then because he’d wearied of the continual questions it triggered and the inevitable explanations he had to give. Somehow, it had become easier to hide it away from the curious eyes and keep it safe against the haven of his chest. Besides, it was closer to his heart this way.
“You there, you’re up next. Bay number two.”
Clayton snapped back to the present and focused on the airport security officer who pointed in his direction. Wheeling his suitcase behind him, he made his way toward the next available taxi and opened the front passenger side door.
Eyes so dark they looked black stared back at him, crinkling at the corners when the driver opened his mouth and smiled, flashing a perfect set of sparkling, white teeth. Their brilliance was in such contrast to the scruffy beard that clung to his cheeks that Clayton was momentarily taken aback.
“Where are you off to, mate?” The question was asked around a toothpick the driver held between his lips.
“Penrith Police Station. Can you flip the trunk open, please? I’ll throw my bag in the back.”
“No problem.”
After tossing his suitcase into the trunk, Clayton climbed in beside the driver. The cabbie leaned forward and started the meter before pulling away from the curb.
“Are you a copper, then?”
Clayton shot him a hooded glance. “Something like that.”
The man took the hint. Silence fell between them. Clayton looked out the window. Heavy, gray clouds colored the sky and boded well for a wet night. Cars and buses surged around them. It was the start of peak hour, but the driver drove with confidence and admirable skill, weaving in and out of the burgeoning traffic.
Glancing up, Clayton noticed the man’s identification. It was a colored photograph, clipped to the rear vision mirror. The face was a little younger and it was clean-shaven, but the dark eyes hadn’t changed. Or the smile.
“You’ve been driving cabs for a while?”
“On and off for years. It’s okay. I like to drive around and talk to the passengers, although, most don’t want to talk to me.” He grinned. “Most people sit in the back, not saying anything. That’s city folks for you.”
Clayton smiled. “I’m from the country, mate. We don’t climb in the back. Not when there’s an empty seat in the front. It’s just the way it is.”
The driver nodded and flashed his teeth. “I spent a bit of time in the country when I was younger. I lived up north, near Maitland. I remember what it’s like.”
Clayton stuck out his hand. “I’m Clayton Munro.”
The driver paused and then briefly returned the handshake. “Lex Wilson.”
“Did you drive taxis in Maitland?” Clayton asked.
“Nah, I was just a kid. Moved to the city as soon as I left school.”
“Do you still have family there?”
The man’s face went blank. “Nope. I met my wife there, but neither of us has been back.”
Clayton pondered that. “You must have been together a long time if you met at school?”
“Twenty-five years, we’ve been together. We met when I was ten.”
Clayton shook his head. “Wow, that’s fantastic. Got any kids?”
“Two girls. Amy and Anissa. Then there are my dolls, of course.”
“Dolls?”
“Yes, I carve them from wood and paint their faces. I even make their clothes. My girls love them and my wife makes good money selling them at the markets.”
“I have a daughter, too. I might have to stop by your wife’s stall. Is it Paddy’s Markets she goes to?” he asked, referring to the iconic markets held every weekend in the city.
“No, the local markets in Penrith. We live out that way.”
Clayton smiled. “Well, Lex, you’re in luck. By the time you drop me off, you’ll be almost home.”
The man smiled back. “I wish. I don’t finish for hours yet. It’s a late one for me tonight.”
Clayton commiserated with him in silence. He’d done his fair share of night shifts.
The streets slid by in the quiet of the oncoming night. Before long, Lex turned the cab into the street that led to the police station and pulled up beside the curb outside the building. Clayton handed him a credit card and moments later, the transaction was completed.
Tugging his bag out of the trunk, Clayton lifted his hand in farewell. “Thanks for the ride, Lex and good luck with your dolls.”
A wide, white grin accompanied the slight wave of a hand. The car pulled away and disappeared down the road.
* * *
Ellie stared out the window. The sun had long since vanished behind a heavy bank of storm clouds. The squad room door opened on a rush of cold air. She turned as Ben strode across the room and stuck out his hand before enveloping the newcomer in a friendly hug.
“Clayton, you’re looking well. It’s good to see you again. Thanks for braving the storm and coming up at such short notice. We really appreciate it. Isn’t that right ladies and gentlemen?”
Ben swung around and gestured toward the group of officers. Ellie’s gaze focused on the stranger who stood just inside the doorway.
Ben stepped forward. “I’d like you all to meet Federal Agent Clayton Munro.”
She tried not to stare at the man who watched her with a pair of coolly assessing blue eyes. He looked like Brad Pitt. The younger, clean-cut version. The one that had sent her pulse soaring in Legends of the Fall and Meet Joe Black and a heap of other movies. She’d seen them all.
Belatedly, she shook his proffered hand, her mouth unable to form anything more than a mumbled greeting. Misinterpreting her reticence, Ben frowned in warning.
“Luke Baxter. Nice to meet you.”
Much to Ellie’s relief, her boss’ attention was distracted by Luke’s timely greeting. She snatched a breath. It had been so long since a man had stirred anything inside her, she’d almost convinced herself that her sex drive had died along with Jamie. She forced a couple of surreptitious breaths through her lungs, listening in silence while Ben asked the newcomer about his flight. Talk soon moved to the investigation.
The Fed listened with narrow-eyed concentration. Ellie’s gaze wandered over his physique. He looked like he’d come straight from an advertisement for GQ magazine. Despite the fact he’d just stepped off a plane, his navy suit and crisp white shirt were impeccable. A navy, gold and silver striped tie was knotted with precision around a strong tanned neck.
This was not good. She was taking way too much notice of the guy. So what if he was hot? He was a Fed. After her experience with Robert, she’d be stupid to go there again. In an effort to put some distance between them, she strode over to her desk and sat down, concentrating her attention on Ben.
Her boss had moved over to the whiteboard that was fixed to the wall a few feet in front of her. A timeline of the missing girls had been constructed more than a fortnight ago. Josie Ward was last in line.
Ben tapped the whiteboard with the marker in his hand. “Sally Batten’s the first one to disappear. Twenty-two years old. She’s a student at the University of Western Sydney and attends the Penrith campus. She also works as a part-time shop assistant at the Penrith Westfield shopping complex. Her mother came to the station two weeks before the call came in about Josie Ward. Sally hasn’t been seen for a month.”
“Does she live at home?” Clayton asked.
“Yeah, we think so,” Luke replied. “There’s some confusion about that. She was staying on and off at her boyfriend’s house in Mt Druitt. That’s why her parents didn’t call it in right away. They assumed she was with him.”
Clayton turned around, his gaze encompassing both Ellie and Luke. “So, does anyone know when she was last seen?”
Ellie filled the uncomfortable silence. “The last time her mother saw her was June nineteenth. We found a couple of friends who were almost certain she’d been to class that day, but then the boyfriend said he hadn’t seen her all week.”
“Sounds like a caring bloke.”
“You’ve got that right,” Luke said. “We went to his apartment about ten in the morning and found him lying on the bathroom floor, covered in his own vomit. Said he’d had a late night. The place stunk of pot.”
“Nice. Just the kind of bloke you want your daughter to hang out with.”
“Yeah, well Mom and Dad aren’t exactly Mr and Mrs Walton,” Ellie added. “They live in some shithole at the back of Mt Druitt. Can’t say I blame the girl for wanting to get out.”
“Sounds like she aimed for the stars.” His expression mocked her.
Ellie bristled. “It doesn’t make her any less of a victim.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t say that it did.”
“Besides, one of her friends thought they’d broken up. The boyfriend wouldn’t confirm the status of their relationship,” she clarified.
Baleful blue eyes stared her down. “As I said, sounds like a caring bloke.”
Ellie’s gaze narrowed on the Fed. She opened her mouth to protest again. Ben cleared his throat, cutting her off.
“Let’s continue, shall we? I know it’s late and we’re all feeling tired, but we need to keep our eye on the ball here.” Her boss gave Ellie a fierce frown before turning back to the whiteboard.
“Josie Ward comes in next. Her mother called a fortnight ago. She’s nineteen and lives at home with her parents. She hasn’t been seen since July third.” He paused. “She’s also got Down’s syndrome.”
Clayton’s face sobered. “Christ.”
Ben’s lips tightened. “Yeah. The general duties boys teamed up with State Emergency Personnel and conducted search parties and door-knocks at the time, but came up with nothing.”
“What do we know about her?”
Ben turned to look at Ellie and Luke. Clayton followed suit. Ellie squirmed under his regard. She breathed a silent sigh of relief when Luke answered.
“She was dropped off at work by her father. For various reasons, neither of her parents could collect her that night. She finished work at ten. Her boss arranged for her to catch a cab home.”
Ellie recovered her aplomb and took up where Luke left off.
“Unfortunately, the man delegated with the job of seeing her to the taxi stand was Drew McNeill, a twenty-two-year-old co-worker who was more interested in getting home to catch the final half of the football game than he was seeing Josie Ward safely to a taxi. When we spoke to him, he admitted he’d left the store with her and had walked her to the nearby taxi stand, but couldn’t remember if there were any cabs waiting and if there were, he couldn’t recall any of the cab companies.”
She eyed the Fed balefully. “Harold Ward is still beating himself up about it. It was his suggestion that his daughter catch a cab.”
The Fed frowned at her. “So no one saw her climb into a cab?”
“No,” Ellie replied.
“I take it the girl’s father isn’t a person of interest?”
Ellie responded again. “That’s right. “Apart from the fact he’s almost suicidal with guilt over his part in Josie’s disappearance, it was impossible for him to be responsible for her abduction. There are several witnesses who said he was at work at Westmead Hospital until eleven that night. Josie disappeared shortly after ten.”
The Fed nodded and then turned back to Ben. “What else have we got?”
Ben pursed his lips and referred back to the whiteboard. “The next one we have listed is the head that was found on the banks of the Nepean River. Until we get an ID, we don’t know where she fits into our timeline, or even if. The forensic pathologist says death occurred up to three weeks before she was found, which means she was killed about five weeks ago. I’ve put her at the front of the list until we get an ID.”
He underlined the name Jane Doe at the front of the timeline and then turned back to face them. “I know I don’t need to remind anyone about the savagery of this attack. Identifying this young woman is our top priority.” He turned to Clayton. “We’ve been running her picture in the media for the last couple of weeks. We’ve had a handful of enquires, but so far, nothing’s panned out.”
Clayton tapped a finger to his lips, his brow furrowed in thought. “I take it these girls went missing from the same area?”
Ellie answered. “Yes, more or less. They’re both from western Sydney and live within a couple mile radius of each other.”
“And Sally Batten attends Uni?”
“Actually, Josie Ward’s a student, too,” Ellie said. “She attends classes at the same campus.”
Ben frowned. “Really? I didn’t know that.”
Ellie shrugged. “Apparently she’s been taking some art class a few days a week. Nothing major from what I could gather.”
“So,” the Fed replied, “has anyone talked to the staff at the university?”
“We’ve made a start,” Ellie replied, “but you’re talking about hundreds of people. Faculty members, groundsmen, cleaners, other staff. And that’s before we start looking at the students.” Her gaze challenged him. “We don’t have the unlimited budgets some people do.”
He stared back at her, lasering her with his eyes. Heat scorched her neck. She looked away.
Luke broke the tense silence. “We’ve talked to some of the girls’ friends. From what we can gather, neither of them knew each other. Preliminary enquires seem to indicate there’s only one faculty member who has a common link to them. Stewart Boston, an art professor. He was Josie’s teacher and it looks like Sally Batten was also taking one of his classes.”
Ellie returned to the discussion. “The art professor’s on a month’s leave. He left about a week and a half ago.”
Clayton’s eyes narrowed. “So, that means he took off shortly after Josie was reported missing. You don’t think that’s significant?”
He’d addressed her directly, his gaze burning into hers. She held her ground, refusing to be intimidated.
“Possibly. It’s too early to tell. Besides, Sally Batten’s been missing about a month. And of course, until we’ve identified Jane Doe, we won’t know if there’s any connection there.”
“But he does work at the University and he just happens to teach two of our missing girls.” He drilled her again with his gaze. “And now he’s disappeared?”
The sudden tension in the air was palpable. Anger ignited inside her. How dare he come and throw his weight around the minute he arrived? He’d been invited along to help them, not make them feel like incompetent probation officers straight out of the Academy.
Ellie seethed in silence. Ben leveled her with a look of warning and she clamped her mouth shut. T