Page 30 of Sharing Forever in Hope Creek (Hope Creek #2)

Callie held out the car keys and pointed towards the car. ‘That’s Jack’s hire car.’

‘No need for the keys,’ the female detective said as she indicated the rear door on the driver’s side. ‘That door hasn’t been shut properly.’

‘We don’t usually lock our vehicles around here,’ Blue said.

‘No need,’ Margaret chimed in with a defiant note of challenge in her voice. Under her breath she muttered, ‘We’re not criminals and we don’t have car theft in this community.’

Callie wished she could share Margaret’s unshakeable belief in Jack but it would be foolish of her to believe blindly in his innocence in light of the threats Brianna had heard.

Both detectives reached into their pockets and put on some gloves. Callie shuddered knowing they were treating the car like a crime scene.

‘Don’t come any closer,’ the female officer told them as she walked around the car—now with her phone out and starting to take photographs.

The male detective went straight to the rear of the car to open the boot. He gave it a fairly quick inspection before declaring, ‘It’s missing.’

‘What’s missing?’ Callie demanded.

‘Sorry, Miss. I can’t answer any questions.’ He took some photos of the boot, then proceeded to move around the car, opening the rear door behind the driver’s seat, while his colleague was inspecting the area around the front passenger seat and the glove box. ‘Maria!’

‘What is it, Jim? What does he think he’s found?’ Margaret asked quietly.

Callie craned her neck to try to get a better view but all she could see was the back of the detective’s body.

A series of clicks told her more photos were being taken as Maria said, ‘I’ll get a bigger evidence bag.’

What?

What evidence have they found in Jack’s car?

Blue and Stella both shifted closer to Callie.

‘Jim? What’s he got?’ Margaret asked again.

‘I can’t see anything,’ Jim said.

Worryingly, Ned and Ben raised their noses and began sniffing the air.

‘You alright, Callie?’ Blue put his arm around her shoulder.

No. She wasn’t alright. She shook her head because her throat was so tight and dry she couldn’t even move her vocal cords to articulate a sound.

Maria returned quickly with a large plastic bag. ‘You’re all bearing witness to this,’ she told them.

As the male detective backed out of the car and turned around, Callie’s jaw sagged. She recognised the shirt he held up before it was stuffed into the plastic bag. It was Jack’s blue linen shirt that he’d worn only last week and it was spattered with what looked like bloodstains.

‘Holy hell,’ Blue said.

‘No way,’ Stella declared. ‘This isn’t right.’

Margaret’s hand flew to her mouth and Jim rocked back on his heels.

‘No!’ Callie wailed as the small part of her that had hoped Jack was innocent—the small part she had tried desperately to ignore as she’d prepared herself for the worst—received a fatal blow.

‘Take her inside, Marg,’ Jim commanded as the dogs began to bark. ‘You’d better go with them, Stella.’

Callie was numb. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the bag.

Maria was on her phone. ‘Get forensics to Hope Creek Station now.’

‘I need all of you to go into the house now or, if you have to go about your work, you’ll need to give this area a wide berth,’ the man told them.

‘No, Peter,’ Maria corrected as she tapped on her phone to make another call.

‘The house will need to be processed by a forensics team as well. Nobody is to go in or out now until I give permission.’ When she next spoke, it was into her phone.

‘Constable McMahon, it’s Detective Fahey.

Read Jack Marshall his rights. He’s going to be held on suspicion of murder. ’

Murder.

Callie broke out in a cold sweat. ‘This can’t be happening!’

‘Ssh, Callie,’ Margaret said from beside her. ‘Don’t get yourself worked up. The police will figure out the truth eventually.’

‘We know Jack is innocent,’ Stella asserted. ‘This must be a plant, detectives.’

What planet were they all living on? Callie wondered. How much more proof did they need?

Jim was on the phone to Mitch, asking him to come and pick up the women to take them to the farm when Maria cut over his call. ‘I need you all to come to the station to make statements.’

‘Okay,’ Jim replied to her. ‘Scrub that, Mitch. We need to go into the station so I’ll drive all of us in.’ There was a pause. ‘She’ll be okay. We’re here.’

‘You can’t all travel together,’ Maria told them firmly.

‘Why not?’ Margaret asked indignantly.

‘It’s standard procedure,’ the detective told her. ‘It prevents any corroboration of statements.’

When Margaret looked upset, Jim put his arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s alright, love. They’re just following procedure and doing their job.’

‘I don’t like being treated like a criminal,’ Margaret huffed.

‘You’re a potential witness, Mrs Richardson, and we appreciate you assisting us with our enquiry.’ Maria’s tone was less authoritative and more placating. ‘You’re under no suspicion of any wrongdoing.’

‘Callie’s still in her pyjamas,’ Margaret argued.

‘She’ll have to stay in her pyjamas,’ the woman told them unapologetically. ‘I can’t let any of you back in the house now.’

‘Did you recognise the shirt?’ the detective—Peter—asked Callie.

Everything in her wanted to deny it, but she knew she had to tell the truth. ‘It’s Jack’s,’ she confirmed.

‘But he wasn’t wearing it yesterday, was he?’ Margaret said. ‘Brianna will tell you that too, I’m sure. I haven’t seen him wearing it since last week.’

‘Peter, you stay here until forensics arrive. Callie, is it?’ When Callie nodded, the detective asked, ‘What’s your relationship to Jack Marshall?’

‘They’re a couple,’ Margaret said hastily.

Not anymore, Callie wanted to shout.

‘You can ride with me,’ Maria told Callie.

‘I’ll come with Callie,’ Margaret insisted. ‘She’s pregnant and I don’t want her stressed.’

Maria raised an eyebrow. ‘Jack Marshall’s child?’

Callie lowered her eyes, feeling shamed for carrying his child. ‘Yes.’

‘Okay.’ She looked around the rest of the group. ‘What’s your name, sir?’

‘Blue Walters.’

‘Er. Right. Well, Mr Walters, are you able to drive yourself to the station?’

‘Yes.’

Maria nodded. ‘Mr Richardson, can you please follow me in your vehicle and then, Mr Walters and Miss Simpson—’

‘It’s Mrs Scott now.’ Stella snapped out the correction.

‘—Mrs Scott, you can stay here with my colleague until the forensics team arrive and then drive to the station with him.’

‘Alright.’

With a nod to her colleague she said, ‘Forensics are heading straight here from the vineyard and should be here in the next twenty minutes. Keep me updated, Peter.’

Callie wasn’t quite certain how she managed to make it to the car and strap herself in.

Her extremities were numb.

Her brain … She may as well not have had one.

She rubbed at her temples as she tried to make sense of everything.

She would’ve sworn Jack was no cold-blooded murderer. He had been so solicitous of her wellbeing when he’d arrived back at the homestead.

Jack had blinded her with his charm and caring manner and she’d been all too easily swept off her feet—rendered stupid by her attraction.

Had it been the same for her mother?

Murder.

Dear Lord.

Had it been accidental or premeditated?

She suppressed a bitter laugh. In the end it didn’t matter.

Murder was murder.