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  Delaney walked off, made the call while his partner walked behind the car and opened the boot. He jumped back. ‘Holy crap!’

  Delaney ended the call and walked around to the back of the car. ‘No answer on the home number.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Baker said. ‘I think I found him.’

  FIVE

  Jill and Rimis drove to the address Constable Patullo had given them for Robbie. Despite the cold, small groups of people were standing outside their homes, while others were inside making do with the view through their windows. The news van had already arrived and Katrina Andrel was interviewing the neighbours. Further down the street, the outside lights of the cottages were all on and a couple of uniforms were going from house to house.

  ‘Shit,’ Rimis said. ‘How the hell did she find out Calloway’s address? And she’ll know his name by now after talking to that lot, if she didn’t already.’ Rimis released his seat belt. ‘Must have been Patullo.’

  ‘Amazing what a pair of big boobs will do,’ Jill said and then climbed out of the car. She tightened her ponytail and stopped to look over to where Katrina Andrel was doing a piece to camera, standing far enough down the street to get the houses and the neighbours in the background. Jill felt decidedly short…not to mention unfeminine. Katrina Andrel appeared to be around the same age as Jill but she was taller, slimmer, had more hair and wore make-up, which was well applied.

  Rimis unlatched the front gate to the rundown semi-detached cottage and walked past an overgrown front garden before taking the steps to the verandah. Jill followed. In the background Jill heard the faint rumble of traffic on Balmain Road. It was a Friday night and many people would be heading home after being out in the city.

  Rimis checked if there was any sign of a break-in before he knocked on the door. Jill stood back and watched him fumble with the keys Patullo had given him. After a few attempts, he found one that fitted the lock.

  Technically, this was not a crime scene, but as a precaution, they both paused to put on latex gloves. Jill kicked off her muddy shoes and slipped into a pair of paper booties. While she waited for Rimis to do the same, she realised how cold, tired and wet she felt.

  Rimis fumbled for the light switch and flicked it on. The wooden floor creaked under their weight like the timbers of an old ship. They stood for a moment and took in the room. It was empty apart from a worn red lounge that looked like it had come from Vinnies. The place barely looked lived in.

  ‘Tell me about him,’ Rimis said.

  ‘I’ve already told you. We met at the Academy.’

  ‘Come on, Brennan. This is me you’re talking to, remember? There’s got to be more to the story than that.’

  Jill sighed and unzipped her jacket. ‘My first posting after I left the Academy was Darlo. A few years later, Robbie turned up there; it was a coincidence. We went out for a while but we broke up before I got my transfer to Chatswood.’ Jill saw the look on Rimis’s face. ‘It was only a fling.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Robbie was the sort who took the job seriously, but off duty he liked to let his hair down; he was a party animal and good company until he started gambling. I’d been dating him for about four months when I first noticed a change in him. He was working too hard, doing more overtime than he needed to. One night I rang him at the station. They told me he wasn’t on duty. When I asked him about it, he snapped at me, told me I had it all wrong; he wasn’t working, he’d gone to the pub with his mates.’

  ‘So his gambling was out of control?’

  Jill nodded. ‘It started with Keno, and then he moved onto the horses. The week before we broke up, he was on a lucky streak. He’d won over a hundred thousand dollars at Royal Randwick. A few days later, I asked him what he’d done with the money. He told me there was nothing left; he’d gambled it all away. I broke up with him that night.’

  Jill wrapped her arms around herself. ‘I know it sounds bad, boss, but when I saw Robbie at New Year’s, he told me he had his gambling under control and I believed him. He was excited about his promotion, said he had his life together. He had plans, things to look forward to.’

  ‘Maybe you should’ve gone home. You don’t really need to be here, you know.’

  ‘I know, but I’m here now so let’s get this over and done with.’ Jill looked across the room to a half-open door she assumed led to a bedroom. She crossed the sitting room, pushed the door open, switched the light on and walked inside. Robbie’s crumpled clothing lay on the floor; a pair of faded denim jeans, a t-shirt, a pair of black-and-red-striped boxer shorts. She bent down and picked up the t-shirt from the floor, held it to her nose, took in the scent of him. She scanned the room. The queen-sized bed was unmade and there was a set of dumbbells in one corner of the room beneath the window.

  On top of the chest of drawers she found a pack of unopened condoms, a betting slip for one hundred dollars on a horse called ‘No Chance,’ and a black comb with a few teeth missing.

  ‘Find anything? A suicide note or a gun would help.’

  ‘What?’ Jill hadn’t heard Rimis come into the room. She watched him as he got down on his hands and knees and looked under the bed.

  Jill dropped the t-shirt to the floor. She wanted to tell Rimis he was wasting his time; it wasn’t suicide.

  ‘I was just on the phone to Robbie’s boss, DI Perris,’ Rimis said. ‘Robbie’s gun’s missing from the station. It’s not in the gun locker.’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing here.’ Jill sighed. ‘No note, no gun.’ She walked into the second bedroom. The first thing she noticed was Robbie’s laptop. When it came to computers, she knew it was best to leave it to the experts, but the Electronic Evidence Branch was notorious for its backlog. Unless it was something urgent, it always took months to get information back.

  ‘We should get Matt to take a look at his laptop,’ Jill called out to Rimis. DC Matt Chapman was the station’s general dog’s-body but a whiz when it came to computers. He’d been a software designer before he joined the force. Next to the laptop was a framed photo of a woman and two young children, a boy and a girl. Jill had seen the same photo at Robbie’s Collaroy apartment. The woman was Robbie’s grandmother. The photo had been taken in the nineties, a time when kids still played outside, built cubby houses, played Cowboys and Indians and brought home stray dogs and cats. Robbie looked to be about six or seven years old with a broad smile showing off missing front teeth. Fin, who was younger, wore a simple shift and her short hair emphasised sad, dull eyes.

  Robbie and Fin had a bad start in life and Jill had often wondered how Robbie had turned out as well as he had. Children learn to survive, she thought as she reflected on her own childhood.

  Jill found another photograph in the desk drawer, the edges were curled. The woman in the photograph appeared to be in her mid-to late-thirties and had a surprised expression on her face, as if the photographer had caught her unexpectedly. A strand of dark hair fell across her left cheek, her eyes were bright and excited. Jill turned it over, hoping for an inscription, but there was nothing. She looked at the photo again.

  Jill knew those eyes, she’d looked into them often enough — just like Robbie’s. The woman was Robbie Calloway’s mother. Jill stared at the photograph for a long time and wondered if her own mother had been as happy as this woman seemed to be.

  Rimis walked into the second bedroom. ‘Find anything?’

  ‘No, only some family snaps.’ Jill returned the photo to the drawer and placed her hands on her hips. She looked around the room. ‘Boss, there’s something odd here, don’t you think?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Where’s all Robbie’s stuff? In his Collaroy apartment he had some quality furniture that belonged to his parents. I get the feeling he was just dossing down here, as if it was only a temporary arrangement.’

  Rimis shrugged. ‘Maybe he didn’t get around to moving everything.’

  Jill did a quick look around in the bathroom. It revealed nothi
ng. The toilet seat was left up, just as you’d expect from a man living on his own. Jill walked out into the sitting room. Rimis was standing in front of the bookcase. It was filled with paperbacks and included the likes of Ian Rankin, Tess Gerritsen, PD Martin and, surprisingly, a Jamie Oliver cookbook.

  Jill thought about the crime novels she’d started reading when she was a teenager and how her father had scoffed at them, told her they bore no resemblance to real-life policing.

  Jill left Rimis flicking through one of Ian Rankin’s books and walked into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and looked inside. It was home to a six-pack of beer, an out-of-date container of milk, and a few eggs. In the freezer she found frozen meat pies, an empty ice tray and a few left over slices of pizza wrapped in plastic cling wrap; pepperoni by the look of it. Inside the cupboards, white plates, white bowls, four white mugs and a half a dozen wine glasses along with a couple of battered aluminium saucepans.

  Rimis came into the kitchen and opened the pantry door. ‘Not much of a cook, was he?’

  ‘He used to eat out a lot. I don’t know how he managed to keep in shape with all the junk food and beer.’

  A few minutes later, Jill walked out of the kitchen, across the sitting room to the window beside the front door. She pulled back the curtain; saw reflected moonlight, black sky. The news van had left and the street was now deserted. The show was over.

  Across the street stood a heavy brick building with lights in some of the windows. She noticed the cars parked at odd angles in the car park and wondered where Robbie’s Subaru was.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Rimis walked up and stood beside her.

  ‘Robbie’s car. I didn’t see it parked in the street. I remember when he bought it. The duco needed respraying and the passenger door was a different colour from the rest of the body. He spent over four thousand dollars doing it up. Robbie loved that car.

  ‘It could be in any number of places,’ Rimis said. ‘In for service, someone could have borrowed it. Look, I think we’ve seen enough.’ Rimis snapped off his gloves. ‘Let’s get out of here. I’ll drive.’

  Rimis’s phone rang. It was the station. He listened, nodded and ended the call. ‘Uniform’s just left Fin Calloway’s place. She’s been told about her brother.’

  Jill was silent for a moment. ‘I should go and talk to her.’

  ‘Not now, tomorrow,’ Rimis said.

  Jill wondered what she would say to Fin when she saw her. They didn’t know anything yet. Not really.

  They walked out into the street. Jill opened the passenger door, got in and turned the heater to its highest setting while Rimis plugged in his iPhone. The first track of his playlist began to play through the car’s speakers. They pulled out into the street and a few minutes later the second track started.

  Jill twisted in her seat and looked at Rimis. ‘Are you serious, boss?’

  ‘What?’

  Jill leaned forward and wiped the fogged-up windscreen with her sleeve. ‘Tony Bennett and Lady Gaga. It’s a joke, right? You’re trying to wind me up.’

  ‘What’s wrong with Tony Bennett and Lady Gaga?’

  On the drive back to Chatswood Station, the streets were quiet. The rain and the beat of the wipers fell in time to Jill’s breathing. She pressed her head back against the headrest and stared out through the windscreen.

  ‘Any idea why he would have done it?’ Rimis asked.

  It? For a moment she wasn’t sure what Rimis meant. Then she realised.

  She looked over at him. ‘No. Robbie was the most optimistic guy I’ve ever met.’

  ‘When was the last time you spoke to him?’

  Her breath caught.

  ‘Jill?’

  ‘He left a message on my phone two days ago, but I forgot to call him back.’ I forgot, a pathetic excuse.

  ‘How did he sound?’ Rimis asked.

  ‘He sounded like Robbie. Look, boss. I know what you’re getting at and I know what everyone else is going to think, but I can’t believe Robbie took his own life. If anything was bothering him he would have been the first person to step up and face the problem head on. Besides, he was protective of Fin. His sister was the only family he had and he wouldn’t deliberately leave her on her own.’

  When Rimis drove into the station car park twenty minutes later, he pulled up next to Jill’s car. He looked at Jill, then her car. ‘I should drive you home.’

  ‘No need, I’m fine.’

  ‘You should have someone with you. I can make you something to eat. I’m good at toasted cheese sandwiches. I’m also a good listener if you want.’

  Jill smiled. ‘I appreciate your concern, Nick, I really do, but I’ll be okay. I just want to have a hot bath and go to bed.’ Jill got out of the car. She fumbled with her keys, knowing Rimis was watching her. When she got her car door opened she turned and waved to him. He hesitated for a moment before he drove off.

  Jill didn’t know how she’d managed to drive home or how she’d climbed the stairs to her second-floor apartment. Even though she was exhausted she did her routine check of the locks before she ran a bath. After a hot soak in the tub she changed into a fleecy tracksuit and collapsed onto the bed. She stared up at the ceiling. It would be daylight soon and even though she had an early start, she couldn’t sleep. She picked up her mobile phone from the bedside table and tapped on the image gallery. She flicked through her photos until she found one of Robbie. He had his arm around her at Avalon beach, a few weeks before they’d broken up. She kept struggling to find a way to make it not true. How could Robbie be dead? She dropped the phone and rolled over onto her side. She punched her pillow. It wasn’t long before the tears started to flow.

  SIX

  The dream had yanked Fin Calloway out of sleep. She rolled out of bed. The first thing she noticed was the gash on her leg. It was swollen and sore. Strange. She hadn’t felt the pain until now. On her way to the bathroom she tripped on a pile of wet clothing, noticed the muddy footprints on the carpet. She had no memory of when or how she’d got home last night. This was happening to her a lot lately, gaps in her life she couldn’t explain.

  In the bathroom she clung to the sink with one hand, leant over and spat the bile from her mouth, splashed cold water on her face. She should shower, but she needed coffee first. She looked in the mirror, studied her face. Who are you Fin Calloway? She knew it wasn’t the weight she’d put on or even her face that was puffy from crying; there was something terribly wrong with her.

  When had it started? And why? The heavy drinking, the blackouts, the depression. She’d been an embarrassment to Robbie. That was why he’d never introduced her to any of his friends. She’d only met one of Robbie’s friends in the past year or so — a woman called Jill Brennan. And that was only because Fin had turned up unannounced at Robbie’s apartment and Jill had been there.

  Fin stumbled into the kitchen and looked out the window at the quiet street outside her apartment. Sydney was waking up to another wet and gloomy day. When she grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the kitchen counter she noticed, not for the first time, the health warning and photo of a cancerous lung on the pack. Instead of lighting up, she switched the kettle on, picked up a mug from the sink and waited for the water to boil. She closed her eyes. The darkness spread. She tried to piece together what she could remember of the dream… she’d been trying to get away from someone, or something.

  SEVEN

  Chatswood detective’s office was in full swing. The wheels didn’t stop turning because one of their own had committed suicide. From his west-facing office on the third floor, Nick Rimis had a view onto Archer Street. He got up from his desk and walked over to the window. The street was crammed with peak-hour traffic.

  Rimis hadn’t slept much last night and already his face was showing the signs of a new beard. On his desk the Sydney Morning Herald lay open at page five. He’d just finished reading Katrina Andrel’s article on Calloway’s suicide. Thank God they’d managed to get a hold of
his sister. What a shock it would be to find out about a loved one’s death in the paper. He walked back to his desk and looked at the article again.

  The death of Senior Constable Robert Calloway at Callan Park last night is not being treated as suspicious, according to police sources. The New South Wales Health Minister, Suzette Schofield, described Constable Calloway’s death as a tragedy. ‘In light of the increase in suicides in the emergency services, we’ll be increasing funding for mental health,’ she said. ‘We are committed to helping those people who serve this state.’

  In response to the minister’s comments New South Wales Police Commissioner, Trevor Whyte, told the Herald the New South Wales Police Force was deeply saddened by the loss of one of its own. He encouraged his officers to seek counselling if they were personally affected by the tragedy. A representative from the ‘Friends of Callan Park’, Rozelle resident Mrs Dorothy Bates, urged the state government to approve the community Master Plan and return Callan Park in part, to a mental institution. Constable Calloway is survived by his sister, Fin Calloway, but she was not available for comment.

  Rimis was tempted to throw the paper in the rubbish bin but instead he flipped to the back pages and found the cryptic crosswords. A distraction when he was stressed. He drummed his pen on the desk and spent a few moments thinking about a clue.

  ‘Am I interrupting anything?’

  Rimis knew the voice. DCI Scott Carver. Rimis closed the newspaper and folded in two. He pushed his chair back from his desk and got to his feet. ‘No, not at all, come in. I was just reading the article in this morning’s paper about Constable Calloway. Have you read it?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve read it. I knew Robbie. I haven’t seen him in about three or four years. Even though he was in uniform he was the sort of guy you could talk to. Jokes, gossip and the occasional beer down at the pub.’ Carver shook his head. ‘I find the idea of suicide hard to believe. Robbie never struck me as the type to succumb to depression.’