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CHAPTER NINETEEN
Nick
“No,” I snapped, glaring at Samuel. “This is a waste of fucking time. I’ve already told you everything. You should be out there now, looking for him.”
“And where exactly would you have us look?” Samuel eyeballed me until I squirmed. “A little direction to narrow things down would be helpful. The sooner you start talking, the sooner we might get that. You’d be surprised what you remember the second and even third time around.”
I swallowed the caustic reply bubbling on my tongue and said, “Fine.” And I began outlining everything I’d found out about Davis’s research, what he had been up to prior to the accident, his relationship with Justin, the break-ins, the caravan, everything right up to the kidnapping of Mads. They listened in silence until I was done.
Ian was the first to respond. “Mads said they were waiting for you, right?”
I nodded.
“But there was no vehicle on the property?”
I thought about that. “Other than mine, no.”
Ian and Samuel shared a look, then Ian continued, “They didn’t vanish into thin air, so they had to have had transport stashed somewhere. Think it through.”
I closed my eyes and thought back to the drive home. Mads had been quiet; we both had. Visiting the crash site had taken an emotional toll and I understood Mads was giving me space to process it. We turned into Mads’ road and— “There was a car,” I blurted. “An SUV, parked on the verge outside his neighbour’s place. I remember Mads turning to look at it as we passed. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”
“Describe it,” Samuel interrupted.
I thought back. “I think it was a Ford Explorer but I can’t say for sure.”
Samuel slid forward on his seat. “Colour?”
I tried to picture it but my pounding brain made it hard to think. “Grey? No, blue. Yes, blue. Dark blue.”
Samuel shot to his feet and called it in. When he came back, he said, “They’ll check all the CCTV around this area for similar vehicles in that time frame.”
Thank God. They were finally doing something.
I thought I was done, but Ian asked me to go through it all again. That’s when the questions started. A lot of questions. Questions about the fake passport and licence. Why I’d thought Davis might be having an affair. The state of my marriage before the accident. Davis’s writing career and his next book. About Lachlan King. About Davis’s death. About the car I’d seen parked up the road when we’d driven back that morning.
The last set of questions focused on my relationship with Mads. I floundered to define it, something not missed by Samuel who gave me a look that said we’d be discussing it later. Well, he could fuck right off for a start.
“Enough,” I growled. “I don’t have anything else.”
Ian pressed on regardless. “This notebook you think they wanted?—”
“I know they wanted it,” I said, exasperated. “For fuck’s sake, they took Mads to make sure they could transcribe it.”
Ian looked down at the second set of photocopies on his lap. “And he’d only decoded a couple of names before he was taken, right?”
“I told you that already, twice .” I turned to Samuel. “What the hell?”
Samuel looked to be choosing his words carefully. “We have zero clue who took him or where they’ve gone. So other than throw a dart at a map, how about you calm the fuck down and let us do our job.” He looked to the others. “Sorry about the language.”
Shirley rolled her eyes.
I knew he was right, but it wasn’t helping erase the image of Mads’ expression while he was sitting in that chair. Wanting me to settle down. Trying to protect me. Offering himself. Knowing what that might mean and breaking my fucking heart in the process.
I counted to ten and answered the question. “I don’t know for sure how many names he’d transcribed but it wasn’t a lot. How many do you have, Jerry?”
The detectives spun in their seats to where Jerry sat scribbling and Samuel stared in disbelief. “You’re working on it now?”
“Of course,” Jerry answered smoothly. “In-between listening. I know how the code works.”
Samuel slowly spun to face me. “You didn’t think to give me one of these copies this morning?”
I levelled a look his way. “You didn’t think to take one? You’re the cop, remember?”
Ian Barrow’s lips twitched.
I sighed. “It’s not like any of us expected this to happen, right? Although maybe we should have. Jerry?”
She handed Samuel the paper she’d been scribbling on. “This is what I have so far. They all appear to be women’s names followed by what I assume is a surname. Stephanie Middleton. Laura Gallop. Bridget Felton. Maggie Pearce, and so on. They span a couple of decades and I’d say there are seventy or so names all up, so I still have some work to do.”
Samuel studied the names on the paper. “All women, huh?” He looked to Ian, then back to me. “Could these be the people he helped on that underground railroad Lachlan talked about? You’d expect those to be mostly women, as opposed to criminals looking for new identities who you’d think would be mostly men.” He handed the papers back to Jerry. “This is important. Keep working on it.”
She shot him a smile. “Yes, sir.”
His lips twitched but that was all.
“But the gunman distinctly said, ‘What if his name isn’t there.’ His .”
Shirley cut in. “There could still be men on that list. You haven’t finished with it and domestic violence doesn’t just happen to women, you know.”
She was right, of course.
Ian Barrow leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Madigan said the men were already inside?”
I nodded. “He said they were waiting for us. Which makes no sense because Mads’ alarm is a pretty fancy system.”
“Unlike your place.” Samuel shot me a look, which I ignored. “I’ve asked forensics to download the camera data as a priority.”
“Oh shit!” Gazza rummaged in his pocket. “You can check it on the app.”
“You have the app on your phone?” Ian regarded Gazza with interest.
“If Madigan’s away, I need to get in and out and keep an eye on the place. There’s one alarm for the house and another for the studio. The app records every time the pads are activated, and any forced entry or string of incorrect codes alerts the monitoring company. Madigan doesn’t like using the motion detectors in the house, just the studio. If he’s around, I keep my notifications turned off. But Madigan should’ve been getting them if it was armed.”
“He forgot his phone when we went to see the accident site,” I explained and everyone’s gaze turned to me. I shrugged evasively. “There was a lot going on at the time.”
Gazza handed his phone to the detectives. “Here, take a look.”
Ian scrolled in silence for a few seconds, then said, “There are two entries, thirty-three minutes apart. The second one disabled the alarm, so that would be you guys coming back. Yep, there you are. Now if we look at the earlier one...”
The two detectives crowded over the phone.
“And yes, got ’em.”
My heart leaped into my throat. “Really? You can see them?”
Ian answered carefully. “I can see two people wearing hoodies, masks, jeans and trainers. That’s about it. The audio is marginal at best.”
My hope deflated.
Samuel looked up. “They had the code.”
I blinked. “What?”
“There was no hesitation. No second attempt. They punched in the code and the door opened,” Ian explained, offering me the phone.
“But—” Gazza grabbed it instead and we all gathered around to watch the short clip. Gazza kept shaking his head. “Only Madigan and I have the code, and he changes it every month.”
“We’ll need a copy of the clips.” Ian held his hand out when we were done and Gazza returned the phone. “Your password as well, please.” He eyed Gazza thoughtfully. “And if Madigan changes the code so often, how do you keep track?”
Gazza’s cheeks immediately pinked. “I write it in my phone. Okay. But nowhere obvious. It’s in with a lot of other notes. You wouldn’t recognise it if you didn’t know what you were looking for.”
Ian’s expression remained carefully neutral. “Does anyone know you keep it there?”
Gazza bristled. “No. Of course not.” He hesitated, looking suddenly uncertain. “At least I don’t think so.”
Samuel leaned forward in his seat. “Has anyone had access to your phone? Someone who might know your password or who was maybe with you when you checked or changed the code?”
Gazza hesitated. “Why are you asking me? It could have been Madigan who let it slip.”
“Because you’re here and he’s not,” Ian said drily.
Gazza closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again. “My boyf— ex -boyfriend. But who doesn’t sit next to each other scrolling through their phones these days? And Ben didn’t have my password.”
“How long have you two been together?”
Gazza frowned. “Since just before Christmas.”
Another of those meaningful looks passed between Samuel and Ian, and I was right there with them. This was important. I could feel it.
Samuel picked his words carefully. “So, there was never a time when you two were on your phones together and you maybe put yours down and left the room without locking it?”
Gazza stared at him. “Of course there were, but he’d still have to know where to look for it. You’re wasting your time. Ben’s a nice guy. He’s clearly not thinking straight since he dumped me—” Gazza rolled his eyes. “—but that doesn’t make him a criminal.”
“You broke up?” Ian did that shuffling forward on his seat thing again. “When?”
“Yester... day,” he said, hesitating, the line between his brows deepening. Then he repeated it. “Yesterday.”
“And you weren’t expecting it?” Samuel asked softly, and my heart broke a little over what I thought was coming next.
“N-no.” Gazza slowly shook his head as his gaze flicked uncertainly between the two detectives. “I actually thought we were doing great.”
Ian nodded and handed Gazza’s phone back to him. “Look really closely and see if either of those men could be your ex.”
Gazza reached for the phone in slow motion, his fearful eyes never once leaving Ian’s face. Then, with the phone in his hand, he looked down and set the clip running. He ran it through several times before shaking his head. “It could be, but I can’t be sure.”
“Close your eyes and turn the volume up on the audio,” Samuel suggested.
The group fell quiet as Gazza did as he was told. The few broken words exchanged between the men wasn’t much to go on, and the sound crackled on and off, but something niggled in my brain. And after only the first run through, Gazza’s face blanched.
“Oh my god.” His gaze shot to Samuel. “It’s him. I’m sure of it. The second man to speak. It’s Ben.” His hand flew to his mouth. “What the actual fuck is going on?”
“You’re positive?” Ian checked.
Gazza gave a helpless look. “As much as I can be, I suppose.”
Ian frowned. “Do you have a photo? What do you know about him? What he does for a job, where he lives, that sort of thing.”
Gazza started scrolling through his photos. “He hated having his pic taken and he’s not on social media—” He looked up when Ian grunted. “Shit, that doesn’t sound good, does it?”
Ian circled his finger. “Keep looking.”
Gazza went back to his phone. “We were at a party a couple of weeks ago and my friend posts on Instagram all the time. Ben blew up at him once and made him take one down, but nothing much fazes Kevin.”
“What about a job? What did he do?” Samuel asked.
Gazza continued to scroll. “He’s a physio... I think. He works shifts so we didn’t see a whole lot of each other. It was kind of a slow-burn thing. I met him at a diabetic support group, and he always came to my place because he was living with his mum, saving money for a house. He said he didn’t want to introduce anyone unless it was serious.” His explanation had grown slower and slower, until at the end he simply groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Oh god, I’ve been a total fucking idiot, haven’t I?”
Shirley stroked Gazza’s back. “No, you haven’t. You did nothing except be the fabulous man that you are. He’s the dickhead. You can’t help if he was fucking you around.”
Ian and Samuel blinked in surprise and I almost smiled. Welcome to Madigan’s Aunt.
Shirley sandwiched Gazza’s hand between both of hers. “There’ll be time for getting filthy mad later. Right now, we need you.”
I was still thinking about the voice on the video. “Play it again... please.” When everyone turned to stare at me, I explained, “Remember I said the voice of the man behind me sounded familiar. I have that same feeling about the recording. But I’ve never met Gazza’s ex. I never even met Gazza until today.”
“Play it,” Samuel ordered.
Gazza hit play, and by the end of the recording, I was positive I knew the guy even if I couldn’t come up with a name.
“Ugh,” I groaned in frustration. “It’s on the tip of my tongue.”
“I feel the same.” Jerry pulled her chair forward to join us.
“What is wrong with you people?” Shirley glared around the group. “That’s?—”
“I’ve found one!” Gazza held his phone aloft. “It’s only a side view, but Ben is the one sitting next to me.” He handed the phone to me first and my gaze darted to Samuel.
He nodded. “Go ahead.”
The photo was of five men sitting around a table covered in beer cans alongside a swimming pool full of half-naked people. It was taken at night, but the pool lights did a good job of highlighting the faces. And there was no mistaking who it was. I sucked in a breath because, holy shit.
Shirley threw up her hands. “It’s Tobin, isn’t it?”
We all turned to look at her.
“What?” She shook her head disappointedly. “None of you have ears?”
I passed the phone to Jerry who took one look and gasped, “Jesus, she’s right.”
Shirley grunted. “Of course I am.”
Gazza looked between us. “Who the fuck is Tobin?”
It was me who answered, my brain spinning in circles. “He’s a nurse at Golden Oaks. He looked after Davis.”
“He was a nurse at Golden Oaks,” Jerry amended. “Tobin Cleary. Been with us about six months.” She looked around the group. “He resigned two weeks after Davis died.”
The shocked silence that greeted her words said everything, and Gazza turned ghostly white, his expression a study in misery and betrayal. “That fucker lied to me all this time and I never saw it. Never once thought he wasn’t who he said he was. How is that possible? How could I be so stupid?”
Ian’s attention fixed on Jerry. “We’ll need to get hold of your boss so we can look at what you’ve got on your files, especially any address.” He turned to Samuel. “Get that name in the system and see what it spits out.”
Samuel jumped onto his phone.
“There’s zero chance that name is legit,” I said grimly. “Look at the tax info he gave. He’d need to be formally registered in some way. And like I said, I’m sure these two are just muscle. The guy on the phone was running things.”
Samuel agreed. “But we have to start somewhere, and an address would be mighty helpful.”
Shirley cleared her throat. “He’s living on a boat.”
Everyone looked her way.
Ian stared in disbelief. “And you know this how?”
“Because he told me,” she announced smoothly, like it should’ve been obvious. “I’m not sure he meant to, when I think back on the conversation, but we were watching a regatta on television while he was making my bed, and I asked if he’d ever sailed. He told me his parents once owned a yacht, but he preferred something with an engine, the bigger the better. That’s when he said he was house-sitting on a friend’s motorboat while they were away. Said it had all the bells and whistles.”
Samuel pressed, “Did he mention where it was moored?”
Shirley grunted. “I would’ve led with that if he had, don’t you think? Keep up, sonny.”
Samuel shot me a look of disbelief and I shrugged. “Like Aunt, like nephew.”
Samuel’s phone rang and he walked off to answer it.
“But he always smelled like the sea.” Shirley was speaking to Gazza. “Didn’t you notice that about him?”
I wasn’t sure Gazza could look any more stunned. “I . . . no. I never . . . How did you . . . ?”
Shirley’s brow knotted. “How strange. It was one of the first things I noticed about him.”
Gazza groaned. “How did I miss all of this?”
He was hurting, I knew, but I was way too focused on what could be happening to Madigan while we were sitting around doing fuck-all to find him except look for a car. The second he finished decoding that notebook, his usefulness would be done. I felt sick at the thought, my stomach churning in bilious knots.
Samuel pocketed his phone and returned to the group. “He’s in the system. His full name is Ross Tobin Cleary. And he is actually a nurse, although he hadn’t worked as one for at least eight years before starting at Golden Oaks.” He looked to me. “Nothing in the system anyway, so how he was making money is anyone’s guess. Working with his brother seems likely. Unlike Ross, Norton Cleary is well known to the police. A nasty piece of work.”
I caught Samuel’s eye. “Could Norton be the other guy, the one with the gun?”
He answered, “Makes sense.”
Ian redirected to Shirley. “You said Tobin never told you where the boat was moored. Did he say anything at all that could help us find him?”
Shirley thought for a moment, then said, “He was always complaining about the traffic to and from work. Said all the work on the new light rail was a nightmare.”
Samuel’s gaze shot to mine. “That’s out Pakuranga way.”
“Phillip Bay Marina,” Ian and I said in unison.
“You have to drive through those road works to get there,” Ian finished.
Samuel gave a weighty sigh. “Even if we’re right, there are literally hundreds of boats moored in that marina.” He pulled his phone out again. “I’ll get my team to drum up a list of the current moorings.”
Ian nodded. “We can narrow it to a motorboat at least. And if it has all the bells and whistles, is it too much of a leap to assume it’s not gonna be a small one?” His phone buzzed and he took the call while we waited. When he was done, he gave a tight smile. “The CCTV turned up a ton of vehicles bearing some resemblance to your description. Some Ford Explorers, some not. Most were picked up from the north bound motorway on-ramp.”
My heart sank. It was all taking too much time.
Ian continued, “Don’t look so glum. We’ll go through them all if we need to, but when they narrowed the window of time, and focused on just Ford Explorers with two or three people inside, they got the list down to twenty, three of which exited east on the Southeastern Highway which would lead to?—”
“Phillip Bay Marina,” I finished. My heart perked up. We were finally getting somewhere.
Ian nodded. “But it gets better. Only one of those three had also been picked up on CCTV driving past the gas station about three kilometres from here, heading for the motorway. They ran the licence plate and it’s a rental. The name on the paperwork is James Harper. Familiar, anyone?” He looked around the group but everyone shook their head.
Samuel spoke to Jerry who’d turned her attention back to the code. “How’s that list of names coming along?”
She didn’t look up. “Almost done, but that name’s not on it.”
Ian got to his feet and gathered his coat. “We’re gonna work this lead, but we’ll keep you in the loop. It’s a long shot though, you realise that? There’s no guarantee that this is the vehicle.”
The caution was directed at me and I nodded.
He seemed satisfied. “Forensics will be here for a while, but we’ll keep in touch.” He handed me a card. “If you think of anything more, call.”
I nodded, swallowing my anger, because no, it fucking wasn’t okay. Not in a million years was it okay. Because if the police thought I was going to sit there and twiddle my thumbs while Madigan was in trouble, they had another thing coming. Not that I was going to tell them that, although Samuel was eyeballing me like he’d already read my mind.
Well, he could fuck off as well.
“Done!” Jerry waved the file of papers in the air and then handed it off to Samuel. “Eighty-four names in total, but only six that I’d pick as male straight off the bat, although I could be wrong. And I’m going to stick my neck out and propose that the way they’re written in couplings could mean that the old names have been paired with the new ones.”
Samuel read through the names. “This is a huge help. Thank you. We’ll run them through the system and see what comes up.”
I caught Jerry’s eye and raised a brow. She indicated some papers on her lap and discreetly waved her phone. It was enough to reassure me she’d taken a copy of the names. I wasn’t sure how much trouble she’d cop from Samuel if he found out, but I didn’t give a shit, and I suspected neither did she.
We waited on the deck until Samuel and Ian left in their car, then I shot to my feet. “I don’t care what any of you decide to do, but there’s no way on earth I’m not heading over to that marina.”
Jerry joined me. “Well, you sure as shit aren’t driving anywhere with that concussion, so I guess I’m going with you.”
Gazza narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you an accountant?”
I met him stare for stare. “So?”
“What are you gonna do if you find them?” he argued. “Beat them to death with your spreadsheets? Slap them around the face with an audit?”
He had a point.
“And you can’t expect me to be of any use.” He held up his hands. “These belong to a craftsman, not an action hero. If you stand them in a row, I could maybe sew them into a book spine but that’s about it.”
I held up both hands. “I’m not asking you to come.”
Gazza glared. “Madigan is my boss and my friend. Interfering could get him killed.”
He was right, of course. Not that it mattered. “Not trying to help could also get him killed,” I pointed out. “But I’d rather try than sit here twiddling my thumbs.”
Gazza’s jaw worked. “All right,” he relented. “Count me in. But if we get within sniffing distance of my fucker of an ex, I want a chance to show him what I think of his lying arse.”
Which wasn’t at all reassuring. “I thought you were a craftsman not an action hero?”
Gazza huffed. “I’ll make an exception.” He hesitated. “But I might need you to hold him down.”
“I’m coming too.” Shirley struggled awkwardly out of her chair.
“No. Please.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “Someone has to stay here in case anything happens or they need us, and you need to talk to Jonas. Madigan would want that.”
Shirley’s eyes narrowed. “You play dirty, but you better keep me in the loop if you know what’s good for you.”
“I promise.” Then I looked at the other two. “Ready?”
When they nodded, I glanced inside to where the forensic team were still busy doing their thing and then headed around the outside path to the cars parked out front. We piled into Jerry’s hatchback, and while she drove, Gazza began searching the three male names from the decoded list.
I tried to help, but the screen kept swimming in front of me. Eventually I gave up and settled for staring blankly at the parched rural landscape flying past while my mind drifted to Mads.
Hold on, baby. Hold on. We’re coming.
I shook my head at the endearment because, really? It was never a name I’d used with Davis. He’d hated it. But with Mads it fit somehow. He was blunt and independent to a fault, sure, but in many ways, he felt more vulnerable than Davis ever had.
This is crazy.
The idea of Mads and me having any kind of future together.
How the hell did that work?
I hadn’t seen it coming. I hadn’t seen him coming.
It was all too soon after Davis.
Too soon to start feeling again.
Too guilty to see it for what it was.
And yet here we are.
Losing Davis had been eighteen months in the making.
Meeting Mads at the very end had been a gift I hadn’t expected.
It had to mean something, didn’t it?
He had to mean something.
The way he touched my face that morning. I see you in there. I feel you in here .
The raw truth of his words had stunned me. Mostly because I knew they were true. He did see me. The real me. I’d felt that all along. And I’d wanted nothing more than to crush him to my chest and demand he say it all over again. To kiss him until we both couldn’t breathe.
Well, I see you too, Madigan Church.
And I feel you like you wouldn’t believe.
Maybe I was right and it was foolishness to think anyone got two chances at a love like I’d shared with Davis, especially someone like me. But the way Mads looked at me. The things he did to my heart. I’d never fucking know if I didn’t give it a chance.
Davis wouldn’t give a fuck about the timing; I knew that to my core. Not that he had a leg to stand on since it was his activities that had put me in this position in the first place. But Davis would want me to be happy, no question. Although he’d be laughing his ghostly little socks off at the idea of another bookish guy in my life. He’d think it was karma, the fucker.
But I knew he’d want me to try. With Madigan.
To not let the chance pass me by.
Just like he’d know that I’d fight it all the way.
And I had.
I’d let fear and guilt muddle my heart.
But that was a mistake I had every intention of correcting.