Authors: Neil Cossins,Lloyd Williams
“I guess that’s your choice Pete. Maybe they’ll be able
to teach you about Detective work better than I did.” Nelson replied looking
Robards squarely in the eye, the alcohol providing an edge to his words.
“What do you mean by that?” questioned Robards, eyeing
Nelson suspiciously.
“Look, you’re a good cop and I don’t doubt that you’ll
eventually get to wherever the hell you wanna be, but you’ve still got a lot to
learn about being a Detective.”
Nelson saw the anger rise in Robards face but couldn’t
help but continue, wanting to clear the air between them perhaps once and for
all, for good or for bad. “You were wrong on this case because you were more
interested in getting a good result rather than getting the right result.”
Robards took the comments on the chin and jutted it
forward, readying himself for another flurry of jabs. “Are you finished?”
“No. All I’m saying is that if you’re going to send a
guy down for twenty years, you have to be certain. Otherwise it catches up
with you one way or another. At no stage was I certain with Craig Thoms
despite all the evidence against him. And maybe if you’d followed up and
properly profiled each of his friends as I asked you to, you would have found
out that Natalie Bassett didn’t exist up until three years ago. We should have
been working as a team, but instead, I got the feeling that you were watching
me instead of watching my back.”
“Ok, Ok. I hear you,” he said sullenly. “I admit I made
some mistakes on this one but I’m sure you made mistakes too when you were
learning the job. Crighton did ask me to keep an eye on you. He put me in a
difficult position and I didn’t know how to handle it. Maybe I should have
been more up front with you or told Crighton to get fucked, I don’t know,” he
added, throwing his hands in the air in an unusually exasperated fashion. The
point hit Nelson hard and spidery doubts crept into his conscience, undermining
his lofty perch on the high moral ground. He wondered how his mentor Sgt Mick Neale
would have handled Robards and guessed that he probably would have done a
better job.
“But maybe if you’d trusted me from the start instead of
shutting me out things might have ended differently,” Robards continued. “But
you don’t trust anyone do you?” Robards got up to leave and opened the door
before turning back and again facing Nelson. “You know I found something out
when I was profiling Craig Thoms. Did you know that he went to the same high
school as you, in the same year?” Nelson’s face betrayed nothing but Robards’
small hooded blue eyes bored into him and saw the truth as if it was written on
his forehead. “It seems strange that you don’t remember him? Anyway, it’s not
important now, and it’s none of my business. I’ll see you around,” he said
with no hint of malice or victory.
It had been a week since the Fogliani case had been finalised.
Nelson had requested a months leave from Inspector VanMerle which was approved
on the proviso that he wait until the Crenshaw murder case was wrapped up. Fortunately,
the original gut feel of the LAC Detectives had paid off soon enough. After a
week spent gathering evidence and conducting hour after hour of interviews with
family members and business associates, the wife of the youngest son had
cracked from exhaustion and repeated badgering at the hands of Robards and
admitted to being involved, but placed the blame squarely on her husband.
Nelson had felt enormous relief and elation when the case broke and as he sat
at his desk he finalised the paperwork relating to his involvement in the case in
record time.
It was Saturday so there were only a handful of Detectives
coming in and out of the office. Nelson acknowledged their greetings briefly
but kept to himself as he didn’t want to end up mindlessly chewing the fat for
an hour when he had things to do and places to be.
Paperwork finished, he tidied his desk and packed away
his files. He was already in holiday mode and had worn just a pair of board
shorts and a t-shirt into the office. His old battered Subaru Liberty wagon
waited outside for him, already burdened with clothes, boogie board, fishing
rod and camping equipment. His plan was simply to head north toward warmer
climes and see as much of his own country as he could squeeze into his month
off. It was something he’d always wanted to do but had previously never really
had the time, the money or the determination to do.
He sat at his clean desk with all tasks ticked off on his
list and pondered the last two weeks. They had affected him more than he
wanted to admit. Old memories, long buried, had found their way to the surface
again. Finding Kylie Faulkner, seeing what she had become, had reminded him of
past mistakes and he knew his actions had
stained
and disfigured her life in a way that could never be undone. Letting her go
free didn’t even rate as a drop in the bucket towards paying her back for what
he had done to her.
He had wanted to believe that he’d become a better man
over the last fifteen years by making a positive difference in people’s lives
through his work, but realised he probably hadn’t changed at all. His momentary
indecision or inaction, standing outside the apartment while she faced down
Manuel Torres had proven that he was still that same nineteen year old kid
standing by the roadside deciding what to do, with his self-interest, like the
grey fog that came off the river that morning, clouding his vision between
wrong and right. He now felt disgusted in himself that at the time, he had
wondered if it would have been better for everyone, especially him, if Manuel
Torres had killed Kylie Faulkner in that apartment and sealed him off from his
past once and for all. Mistakes and more mistakes.
He sighed aloud and broke himself out of his morose
reverie and before anyone could find a reason why he shouldn’t go, he took the
stairs to the ground floor, passed through the front doors of HQ and didn’t
look back. He thought of the month ahead as he walked away, his mood
lightening slightly at the prospect.
In a car parked eighty metres further down the street a
pair of green eyes watched him closely in a rear view mirror. They watched him
come down the steps and get into his car and drive away.
The End.