Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mick
I stride into the police station on Monday morning with more purpose than I’ve had in a long time. Not since my days undercover have I experienced this burning need for justice. Jules was still feeling fragile, so I drove Riley to school. Lucky for Taylor, she was nowhere in sight when I arrived.
A peculiar odour halts me in my tracks, my nose twitching. Dylan lounges against the wall, his body language more suited to a nightclub than the workplace. The blonde constable I’ve seen him shadowing on previous occasions leans into him, her posture just as inappropriate. I quirk an eyebrow. Colour creeps across their cheeks and Dylan straightens. His dog shakes his fur, and water flies in all directions. That explains the smell.
I point towards Milo. “I suggest you get him dry before Inspector Matthews sees him.”
Dylan’s gaze darts to the corridor as if my words will conjure up Jake. “I can’t find a towel.”
“You might have better luck in the lost property room than here. Or ask Greg or Emily. If they’re working out tonight, they’ll have towels with them. ”
I shake my head as Dylan and the female officer scamper off. Was I ever that young?
The door to Jake’s office is open, so I knock and walk in. “Morning.”
Jake glances up from his computer and then at the clock on the wall. “Is this public servant hours?”
“Hilarious.” I settle myself into the seat across from his desk. “I got stuck behind an accident.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s like a monsoon out there.”
I smother the agitation creeping into my limbs. I didn’t come here for small talk. “So?” `
He tilts his neck to the side. “So what?”
Jesus. Surely it’s obvious. “Has anyone been arrested for what happened to Jules?”
His lips flatten. “No.”
“What’s the holdup?”
He plants his elbows on the desk, his expression solemn. “The suspects allowed officers to search them and the premises. They were clean.”
“Fuck.”
“I’m sorry, Mick. If Claire was targeted, I’d want to bust some balls too, but at this stage, the evidence is circumstantial.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Unless Taylor’s the one who drugged her?”
That stops me in my tracks. As much as I dislike Jules’ friend, surely she wouldn’t stoop that low. “What about the CCTV?”
“The cameras are few and far between. Greg checked what footage was available and found nothing.”
I slump in the chair. I hate knowing these arseholes might get away with their crime. What if the next woman they target isn’t as lucky?
“If you’d rather be at home with Jules, I’d understand.”
“Nah. I’m good. She and Claire have already agreed to catch up for lunch. Being with another woman is what she needs today.”
A throat clears, and I turn to see Greg hovering in the doorway. “Morning Jake, Mick.”
“Hey.” I tug at my tie and nod. I couldn’t imagine two better men to have at my back, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a little uncomfortable with what they witnessed on Friday night. And by the way Greg’s fidgeting, I’m guessing he feels the same.
“Come in,” says Jake. “I want to discuss the report Emily gave this morning.”
Greg’s eyes light up. His infatuation with the intelligence analyst is cute. Love looks good on him. “Do you want me to get her?”
Jake shakes his head. “Not for now. I’ve got something I’d like to bounce around with you two before we share it further.” We gather at the small round table, and Jake pulls several photos out of an envelope. “Check these out and tell me what you see.”
Greg picks up the first photo. “There’s a warehouse in the background.” He hands it to me. “What do you think?”
It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the gloom of the grainy black-and-white pictures. Two shadowy figures hug the foreground. “It’s too dark to be sure. Could be a drug deal or it could be lovers. If this is CCTV footage, it’s a piss poor camera.”
Jake steeples his fingers. “I reckon it’s a dash cam, hence the blurriness.”
“Where did you get them?”
“The general duties guys received a tip-off that led them to an abandoned building in North Parramatta. They found a brown envelope tucked in the doorway. Someone wanted us to find these pictures.”
“And you believe this is related to Leadbetter?”
“My gut say it is, but there’s no direct proof.” Jake throws a packet of Cuban cigars onto the table. “These were also inside the envelope.”
Sweat beads across my brow and my vision blurs until the only thing in my line of sight is the pack of cigars. The last time I saw this brand, smoked them … My jaw clenches. I can still smell the ash, the nauseating flavour coating my throat. Hear the ribald laughter.
“You okay, Mick?”
I blink and take in my surroundings. Boring grey walls. The sickly fresh lemon scent of the cheap antiseptic the cleaners use. Jake and Greg staring at me like I’ve finally tipped over the edge.
“Yeah.”
Greg scoops up the cigar packet. “Isn’t this the same brand Emily came across in her intel?”
“Yep.” Jake nods.
“What intel?” There’s a tremor in my voice that wasn’t there before. “I saw nothing about this in the reports I reviewed.”
“That’s because it got lost in a system upgrade.” Jake scrubs a hand over his face and mutters something about IT under his breath. “There was a four-week period earlier this year where an unusual number of drug overdoses all occurred within a hundred metres of a recently vandalised building. Emily thought it was odd, and I agreed with her.”
Greg tosses the packet at Jake, who catches it and glares at him. “Expensive cigars were found discarded on the footpath.”
“Leadbetter,” I say.
“It can’t be.” Jake flips the pack over in his hand. “If the time stamp’s correct, Leadbetter was in jail when these shots were taken. Still is.”
“But it’s his signature cigar. He chain-smoked the filthy things and gave them out as gifts for jobs well done. To receive one from Leadbetter was the highest recognition.” The lowest was a bullet and a permanent holiday in a shallow bush grave.
Jake turns his steel blue gaze on me. “How come we’re only finding this out now?”
I raise my hands. “Hey. I told my handler at the time. I reported every detail to him.”
Jake drops the packet. “He must have dismissed it as irrelevant. Idiot.”
“It still should have been written up. It’s not their job to decide what’s important and what isn’t.” That’s another reason I hate remembering my days undercover. My handler was an arrogant piece of work. Thought I was beneath him. Told me I was paranoid. He’d be paranoid too if he spent three years of his life sleeping with one eye open.
“Agreed.” Jake stares at the cigars as if they’ll suddenly start talking and give him the answers.
I clench my hands into tight fists to stop them from shaking. “It also means those drug overdoses were no accidents. Leadbetter, or whoever is now running the cartel while he’s locked up, wanted those people dead.”
Jake rakes his fingers through his hair. “We’ll need to dig deeper into the identities of the deceased.” He throws the packet at Greg’s chest. “Tell Emily what we found. Then pull out all the files for Mick.”
Greg grunts as if the impact hurt, then tosses the cigars into the air and catches them. “Sure thing, boss.” He gives me a wink and saunters to the door.
I clamp my hands on my thighs to stop them from trembling. The sight of those cigars has made this investigation and the connections to my past too real.
Jake scratches his chin. “Are you okay?”
Nope. “Yep. It’s just … I received a cigar when I was undercover. Not from Leadbetter himself, but he sanctioned it after I thwarted a drug raid. The other crims were more re spectful of me afterwards. That’s when I learnt the significance of the gesture.”
Jake continues to rub his jaw, watching me. Assessing.
I tug on my collar, heat sweeping up my neck. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not. But my door’s always open if you want to talk.”
Tears flood the back of my eyes. I blink them away. This is why I never speak about the past. “I want him to rot in jail as much as you do.”
“I know. And I appreciate this isn’t easy for you, Mick. I’m grateful for your help. Who knows how long it would have taken us to figure out the connection with the cigars without you. Maybe never.”