Violent Exposure (13 page)

Bridges teared up.

‘Were you sleeping with Suzanne?’ Ella said.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ he said, broken-voiced.

‘What was it like then?’

He sighed. ‘You’d better come in.’

He led them into a neat living room but didn’t sit down. Ella watched him bite his nails, and glanced at Dennis. He would be thinking
the same as her: whether they should caution Bridges, and for that matter take him back to the station and get him on tape, in case he was about to incriminate himself. Dennis inclined his head. They’d give him a minute, see where it headed. They could always call a halt later.

‘This has been horrible for me,’ Bridges said.

Ella tried to sound gentle. ‘What, exactly?’

The phone rang. Bridges
jumped.

‘Ignore it,’ Ella said, but he picked it up.

‘Hello.’ He listened. ‘Yes, they are, but I wasn’t –’ He flinched and shut his eyes. ‘Okay. Okay, all right, okay.’

Ella heard the tension in his voice, saw it in the way he hunched his shoulders and cupped his elbow in his palm. She moved towards him and he turned away.

‘Okay,’ he said, and hung up.

‘Stewart,’ she said.

‘I need you to
leave.’ His voice trembled. He wouldn’t meet her eye.

‘We’d just started talking,’ Dennis said.

‘I have nothing to say.’

‘How about a cup of tea? We’ll just sit down and chat. That’s all.’ Ella touched his arm but he jerked away.

‘I want you to leave.’ And, horror of horrors, he walked to the front door and opened it, staring fixedly out at the sunlit street. ‘I have nothing to say.’

Ella
and Dennis went slowly. Ella put her card on the windowsill by the door. ‘Call me. Please.’

He shut the door behind them.

They didn’t speak until they were in the car.

‘He’s about to spill the beans then somebody calls and tells him to shut up?’ Ella burst out. ‘I’m going to send in that form requesting his phone records so fast Telstra won’t know what hit them.’

*

Jo stood in the doorway,
hands against the frame, staring out at the courtyard. ‘It’s quiet with him gone.’

Mick nodded as he typed, his mobile by the keyboard so he could grab it when Chris called. He was uploading his resumé to every employment website he could find and reading job ads in between. ‘This’d be easy if I didn’t already have shifts.’

‘You said you’re going to appeal their decision.’

‘I am,’ he said.
‘I just don’t hold much hope. Although now there’s a little bit of light out there.’

He told her about Aidan’s actions and the murder, and Carly’s idea that the service might sack him and put Mick on full-time to fill the roster.

‘That poor woman,’ Jo said.

‘I know.’

‘Do you think they’ll boot him?’

‘It’s impossible to say. They might, but equally they might do nothing to him at all and pretend
nothing ever happened.’

‘Under the carpet,’ she said.

‘Yep.’

The computer dinged. Another resumé had finished uploading. Jo came over and looped her arms down across his chest.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.’ He reached up and clasped his hands at the back of her neck. Her skin was soft and warm and he stroked it gently with the side of his thumb. ‘Not one single thing.’

‘My eggs. My uterus.’

‘Our genes.’ He swivelled in the chair and pulled her onto his lap. She was getting thin with the stress of it all; he could feel her hip jutting against his hand. ‘You need to eat more.’

‘What, like this?’ She bit him lightly on the side of the neck. ‘Or like this?’ She took his lower lip into her mouth and gently tugged, then kissed him hard. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you
too.’ He grabbed her head with both hands and nodded it up and down. ‘Love you I do, yeess.’

‘The Yoda’s really not working.’

‘That’s why practice I need.’

‘Shut up.’ She put her tongue in his mouth then jumped off and grabbed his hand.

Upstairs, she pulled his clothes off and pushed him onto the unmade bed.

‘Say no to Yoda, ladies cannot.’

She stripped off her own clothes and fell on the
bed next to him. He took her hand and kissed it. ‘Lovely skin have you.’

‘Do so you,’ she croaked.

He bugged out his eyes. ‘A worse than mine imitation that was.’

She lay on her side laughing. He wriggled closer. They kissed for a long moment then he lifted her arm over her head and ran his fingers from her wrist to her hip, watching the goose bumps follow his touch, smiling at her smile. She
raised one leg and hooked him closer and slid her fingertips along his erection. Mick skimmed his hand along her smooth thigh, slipping his fingers into the crook of her knee, hoisting it higher so he could walk on down to her toes. She closed her eyes as he stroked her sole, and her other hand wafted down from over her head to stroke his hair, nails lightly scratching the back of his neck so he
got goose bumps of his own.

She opened her eyes, so close to his. He searched their depths and saw only acceptance and understanding and love. She smiled and he traced the contours of her cheeks, her dimples, her jaw-line. Her breasts were warm and heavy as she pressed close and kissed him hard, then pulled herself on top of him.

‘Choke Yoda I could,’ she said, resting her hands on his neck,
her thighs either side of his hips. He smiled and she raised up and he slid his hand between them to hold himself upright and she eased back down. Her warmth enveloped him and she took his face in her hands and as she moved he saw the emotion in her eyes, thought of all the times they’d done this over the years at particular times and days, working off the thermometer, the calendar, trying everything,
the times he’d jerked off for the lab, held her hand for the insertions by the doctors, counted the days, the weeks, the months, daring to hope aloud, then not daring any more but in his mind painting the nursery and planning their life, seeing how she was around babies in the street, the shops, with Lachlan, feeling the burn in her and in himself too, the pure and simple need, the yearn.

Their
eyes locked and she dug her nails into his shoulders and pressed down hard on his hand and came with a force that tore his own orgasm from him with a gasp. She fell into his neck and he held her tight, her tears soaking his shoulder, feeling his heart swell for her, feeling that he would give anything if they could have just made a baby; and feeling the knowledge that they hadn’t, couldn’t without
help, and wouldn’t if they couldn’t find more money, split something deep in his soul in two.

*

In the office, Ella worked on the phone-records request while Dennis checked in with Detective Steve Mitchell who was at St Vincent’s Hospital inquiring about the blond man seen with Suzanne.

Dennis hung up. ‘They want a warrant, and they’re whining about us wanting to look at three different days,
too.’

Ella wasn’t surprised. Gone were the days when admin people would help just because you were the police.

Detective Lola Murphy hurried in. ‘Connor Crawford wasn’t born in New Zealand either,’ she said.

Ella spun in her chair. ‘Nothing even close in dates of birth?’

‘Not a thing,’ Lola said. ‘So then I called the passport people, and guess what else.’

‘It’s fake,’ Dennis said.

‘Bingo.’
Lola slapped the passport against her palm. ‘They want it sent over when we’re finished with it so they can pull it apart.’

‘Anything more from the RTA or airport yet?’

‘Not so far, but I’ll get onto them again soon.’

‘Keep in touch,’ Dennis said as Lola left the room. ‘No passport, no record, doesn’t own anything,’ Ella said. ‘We’re hunting the invisible man.’

But how exactly do you do that?

Scott Barnley’s design company was off Oxford Street in Paddington. The narrow shopfront bore a large purple sign in the shape of a barking cartoon dog with the words
Barndoor Designs
on a pink speech bubble coming from between its pointed cartoon teeth. The door was locked and Dennis pressed a brass buzzer on the side. Ella couldn’t hear anything over the sound of traffic behind them. She cupped
her hands and tried to see through the tinted glass of the door but it was too dark.

A window slid open above them and they stepped back. The man who peered down had an angular face and shoulder-length brown hair that he hooked behind his ears with his index fingers. ‘We’re closed today, sorry.’

Ella held up her badge. ‘Scott Barnley?’

‘Oh.’ He glanced out at the street then back down at them.
‘I’ll be one second.’

They faced the door again and in a moment locks turned and it swung open. ‘Come in,’ Barnley said. He locked the door behind them and ushered them into a messy office where four computers hummed. He pushed two plastic chairs towards them and fitted himself onto a knee stool. Ella had never been able to get comfortable on those things but he looked fine. Relaxed even.

‘I
take it you’re here about Connor and Suzanne?’ He nodded before they could reply. ‘The other police said somebody might be back.’

‘You had a few drinks with Connor yesterday afternoon, is that right?’ Ella said.

‘Yep. We watched racing on the telly. We wanted to play a bit of pool but there were people hogging the table. We were there from about two till four. He was honestly totally normal.’

‘By that you mean . . . ?’

‘Cheerful, his usual self. He talked about some plans Suzanne had to expand the nursery and sounded excited about it. I couldn’t believe it when the uniformed cops told me what had happened.’

‘You’ve had no contact with him since?’

‘Not a single word,’ he said. ‘I still don’t believe he did it though. He’s not that kind of guy.’

Ella wondered if Barnley would protect
Connor if he came to him for help. ‘You know that police and ambulance went to their house for a domestic violence incident the night before?’

He frowned. ‘No.’

‘He almost tore the earring out of Suzanne’s ear.’

Barnley ran a finger along his top lip. ‘I never would have thought he’d hurt her.’

‘People can be good at hiding their true selves,’ Dennis said. ‘Would you say you and Connor were
close?’

‘Yes, I would.’

‘What did he tell you about his past? Where he was born, where he grew up?’

‘He said he was born in New Zealand, then came here when he was little and moved around a lot.’

‘Remember any specific towns?’

‘I think he said Perth, Melbourne, and here in Sydney. He mentioned Queensland once too.’

‘What about his family?’

‘His parents are dead. There was nobody else.’

The phone rang but he made no move to answer.

Ella studied him. ‘This is your home address too, is that right?’

He nodded. ‘We live upstairs.’

‘How come you’re closed today?’

‘Apart from the shock about Suzanne, my colleague is sick and I had no appointments so I thought I’d shut the doors and take the opportunity to catch up on some projects.’

Dennis took copies of the RTA traffic and convenience-store
CCTV photos from his jacket pocket. ‘Recognise any of these people?’

Barnley looked at them intently. ‘I don’t know this one,’ he said of the CCTV shot, ‘but this is Connor’s car. I can’t say who the people are though. The one in the passenger seat
might
be him, but I wouldn’t have a clue about the driver in the hoodie.’

‘It’s not you?’

‘No way.’

‘What were you doing last night?’

‘I was here
in bed.’

‘Alone?’

‘No.’

‘Who with?’

‘My partner, Ben Morton,’ he said.

‘Where is he now?’

‘Upstairs, sick. Like I said.’

Dennis stood up. ‘Mind if I go up and have a quick word?’

Barnley looked momentarily annoyed, then shrugged. ‘It’s gastric,’ he said. ‘He might be in the bathroom.’

The stairs creaked as Dennis went up. Ella guessed Ben would back Barnley’s story to the hilt, but it
was worth checking anyway. She smiled at Barnley. ‘That’s nice that you work together as well.’

‘Most of the time it is,’ he said. ‘Can I ask how Suzie’s parents are coping?’

‘Not well.’

He shook his head. ‘The whole thing is a tragedy, but I’m still certain that Connor didn’t do it.’

‘If we could find him we could start to sort that out,’ she said. ‘Do you have any idea at all where he might
be?’

‘Not a one, and if I did I’d be telling him to call you.’

She nodded. ‘When you met Connor at the pub, you said he told you Suzanne was meeting a schoolfriend, is that right?’

‘Yep.’

‘And he didn’t seem bothered about that at all?’

‘Not in the slightest. Why?’

‘Did he ever say anything that made you think she might be having an affair?’

‘Never.’

‘How about from her? Did you ever notice
anything that would suggest that?’

‘Again, never,’ he said.

‘When did you last see them?’

‘We had a party last week for another of our friends, Peta Davies. That was the last time I saw Suzanne. Then I saw Connor at the pub.’

Dennis came back in and sat down.

Ella said, ‘Who else was at the party?’

‘Peta, Katie Notts, Lucy Cavasini, Dan Kennedy-Jones, me, and Connor and Suzanne.’

‘Not Ben?’

‘He was visiting his olds in Lithgow. His dad’s got cancer.’

Ella had a flash of her own father but shook the image off. ‘Did you ever hear whispers that things weren’t great between Suzanne and Connor?’

‘Nope,’ he said. ‘I thought they were, like, a super-couple.’

‘How did you all meet?’

‘Suzanne used to play hockey with Peta and Lucy,’ he said, and Ella thought of the trophies in the Crawfords’
house. ‘Dan is Lucy’s boyfriend, Katie is Peta’s girlfriend. I knew Peta at uni.’

‘Which of them would you say is closest to Suzanne?’

‘Peta, without a doubt. They get along like a house on fire.’ His face fell. ‘I mean, they used to.’

Ella said, ‘Do you know a man named Stewart Bridges?’

‘No. Should I?’

‘He was another friend of the Crawfords’.’ The names Bridges gave to the first officers
on the scene were Peta’s and Katie’s. Ella glanced at Dennis. It was interesting that the paths of Bridges and the rest of the friends apparently hadn’t crossed. ‘One last thing,’ Ella said. ‘If you’re so certain that Connor wouldn’t hurt Suzanne, do you have any thoughts about who might?’