Bloodborn (20 page)

Kate greeted Anya with a worried expression
. “We need to talk.”

“Are you looking at the Harbourns?” Anya removed her shoe covers and discarded them in a police-issue plastic waste-bag outside the gate.

“That’s what I wanted to see you about.” Kate led her down the street, beyond the border of the scene.

“We found a property out west they go to a lot. A search of the place turned up a list in Noelene’s handwriting. A number of addresses and phone numbers.” She shoved her hands in her trouser pockets. “Yours was on it.”

She showed Anya a photocopy. Her home address and car registration were written down, along with an asterisk and the words
LIVES ALONE.
Suddenly Anya felt lightheaded and leaned against the nearest fence.

“Keep reading,” Kate urged.

Anya scanned and saw Natasha Ryder’s name and address, along with the same addendum.
LIVES ALONE.
Further down, she stopped at the name and felt as if her world was crashing in.

CRICHTONS YOUNG KID LIVES WITH HER EX. UNFIT MOTHER???????

The number, street and suburb were accurate.

“God, Kate, they know where Ben lives.”

The detective moved to her side. “It’s okay, Hayden spoke to Martin and he’s taking Ben to stay at his friend’s house for a few days. Ben will stay in the classroom with his teacher until Martin gets there.”

“He can’t come to stay with me anymore,” she sniffed. “This can’t be happening.”

“Look, it’s not as uncommon as it seems. Noelene’s boyfriend works for motor registry and we suspect he used their database to get most of the info.

“Going by the amount of drugs we found in the family home, these guys are into dealing as well as selling weapons from the armed robberies. That’s how they can afford to pay for Gary’s medical fees in cash.

“We’ve treated them pretty much as opportunistic idiots, but they’ve got more than a few angles going that make money. Noelene obviously wants to protect it all.”

“Why would she collect all our addresses? She can’t be planning on wiping out half the police, doctors, prosecutors and their families.”

“We think she got hold of the personal details in case she decides to bribe the boys out of trouble. They’ve also got Natasha’s parents, brother and aunt on the list.”

“That won’t mean anything to Martin. He won’t understand. Instead, he’ll use it to stop me from seeing my son. God, Natasha is already dead.”

Kate put her hand on Anya’s shoulder. “That family holiday had an effect. Hayden tells me Martin was pretty concerned that you were all right.”

Anya coughed and processed what Kate had said.

“Did they have any police names?”

“Hayden and Liz Gould, her husband and kid’s names too. Mine wasn’t on the list so you’re welcome to stay in the spare room for a few days if you want. You know I’m barely there.”

It didn’t seem such a bad idea. They could look out for each other. Besides, Anya didn’t fancy going home alone, not now.

“Do you think it’s necessary?”

Kate kicked the ground. “I don’t want to scare you, but whoever killed Natasha knew what they were doing. It was an assassination: short, quick, no witnesses. It doesn’t fit the Harbourn style and, thank God, she wasn’t raped. It doesn’t add up. But put it this way, misery enjoys company, so they say.”

Anya knew the detective well enough to know that this was the closest she would come to admit being concerned.

“Do you promise to tidy up?”

Kate held her hand over her heart. “Scout’s honor I’ll try not to be messy. But only if you agree to water the pot plant.”

As annoying as Kate would be to share a house with, it made sense. “There’s been enough carnage lately. The plant just got a reprieve.”

The detective’s phone rang and Kate answered it. “Just told her now, she’s still here…We’ll be there some time after two.”

Later that afternoon they returned to
the Homicide office. Anya bought sandwiches from the vending machine, more for something to do than because she was hungry. The mood in the office was flat despite phones buzzing continuously.

“We’ve just got the photos through from Natasha’s PM,” Kate said. “I’m about to go over them, but understand if you want to give this one a miss.”

Anya wanted to help in any way she could. She sat on a chair next to Kate’s messy desk.

“This one’s after emergency services were finished.”

Instead of a crumpled body, the image showed Natasha on the outside path. Paramedics had moved her to the nearest flat surface, where there was more room to work. A breathing tube was inserted into her mouth and her shirt was open from attempted cardiopulmonary massage. Two gel plates remained in place along with four adhesive ECG dots. The paramedics had tried to defibrillate life back into her. Just like they had for Giverny Hart.

Blood trickled from Natasha’s forehead down to her left ear.

The next image was of the back of the head. A small entry wound near the base of her skull was the only evidence of what had occurred. Anya compared it to the photo of the forehead, which was larger.

“The bullet entered at the back and exited through the forehead, which is why it was found in the wall. It’s a small bullet. My guess is a .22 caliber.”

“Easy to get hold of, used by just about every drug dealer in the city.”

The next photos Kate showed were of Natasha’s manicured hands. No nailpolish, just perfectly shaped and filed, not long enough to be impractical. Feminine and functional. It pretty much summed up the woman Anya knew.

Above the left wrist on the inside were four one-centimeter wide bruises. One larger, and three adjacent, in a vertical row. It looked as though the killer had grabbed the left arm. What she was looking at were a thumb and three finger marks. There were no grazes or bruises to the wrists themselves.

“Was there any damage to her left shoulder?”

Kate sorted through some papers on her desk. “She had a bruised, torn pectoralis muscle according to the report. The pathologist is sending his summary later on today. What are you thinking?”

Anya stood up and pushed the chair away. Shaun Wheeler looked up from his desk and put down his phone.

“Can I borrow you for a minute?” Anya asked.

He nodded and stood. “What do you w-w-want me to do?”

“Kneel down on the floor.”

The young detective forced a laugh and then realized she wasn’t kidding. He was quickly on two bended knees. Anya moved behind him while Kate watched. By now they had the attention of most of the Homicide staff.

“She came home, opened the security screen, then front door. The briefcase was in her left hand, and the house keys in her right. She put the briefcase down, and that meant that hand was free. Somehow she was either pushed or ordered to her knees. Any bruising or grazes there?”

Kate flicked through some more printed photos. “There was a hole in one stocking at the knee. And a small bruise over each kneecap, probably from the wooden floor.”

“Okay, she either bent down, maybe to greet the cat, or was pushed down.” She cautiously took hold of Wheeler’s left arm and wrapped her thumb and first three fingers above the wrist. Her fingers were in virtually the same position as the bruises on the body.

“The killer has come up behind her, grabbed the arm and, to tear her shoulder muscle, has to have pulled the wrist up behind her back.”

“It’s like a half-nelson,” the male detective said, his left hand behind his shoulder blades.

“From there the killer could have easily forced her to her knees,” Kate said, “which explains where the bullet was found if her head was low when she was shot. There was another bruise on the left side, above the ear.”

Anya deduced, “She didn’t put her hands out to protect herself when she fell forward, or they would have shown marks like the knees did. It looks like someone had control of her and she had no chance to react. There was no time to drop the keys or reach for the Mace.”

The thought of protection being so close made Natasha’s murder more difficult to accept. If only she had reached for the pepper spray in time.

Then Anya remembered what they had talked about the night of Giverny’s death. No regrets, no what if’s or if only’s. It was how the prosecutor lived her life.

With Wheeler under her control, Anya shoved her right index finger into the back of his head. At the same time she released his left arm with a forward push and he toppled forward, putting his right arm out to protect himself.

Kate sat forward, hands on her knees. “So was she hit in the head with the gun at any stage? Could the killer have stunned her first?”

“I don’t think so. That bruise above the ear could have happened when she hit the ground. Without her arms out in front, she would have just toppled forward.”

Wheeler stood up and wiped the knees of his trousers. The phone on his desk rang and he moved to answer it.

Kate spun the chair around and straddled the seat, leaning her elbows on the backrest. “She was executed. No evidence of robbery or sexual interference. The briefcase was untouched as far as we know. This was a targeted killing.”

A minute later Wheeler came back, like a new puppy with a toy he’d retrieved.

“Just had a call from a neighbor. He left for a night shift around 9:45
P.M.
and saw a man with a hat and coat on outside Ryder’s house. He f-f-forgot something so drove around the block. He s-s-saw the man a couple of houses down, looking like he was waiting. He did some shopping and met some friends for lunch before c-c-coming back home this morning, which is why he’s only just called.”

“Description?” Kate sat straight, ignoring Wheeler’s intermittent stutter. It was the worst they had heard it, probably a reflection of his stress levels.

“Average height, overweight, about a hundred and twenty kilos. Big b-belly was what he remembered most.”

Liz Gould entered the office and threw down a satchel.

“Doesn’t fit with any of the Harbourns or their known associates. Can you check out the neighbor’s movements last night? Make sure he really did go to work.”

“What about the description? It’s our first real lead.”

Kate rubbed her eyes. “Let’s put out a public appeal for this person of interest to come forward and assist us with our inquiries, the usual. The killer could have lived close. That might explain why no one else saw him or her.”

Anya hoped that all possibilities were being considered. Police tunnel vision limiting suspects could mean the chances of catching the killer diminished with each hour.

“What about a stalker? She had daily contact with dysfunctional and disturbed people.”

“Her and anyone who works with the public,” Liz added. “Try working with security company employees, they’re a breed all of their own.” She sat, pulled off her shoes and rubbed her feet.

“Find anything useful?” Kate wanted to know.

“Doesn’t look like a stalker. I just got back from viewing the court tapes. Ryder’s been in court the past couple of days and cameras didn’t catch anyone hanging around or following her. Same with the bank footage of the street near where she lives. When she appeared, no one was close or visible, let alone someone with a large belly.”

The detectives were all under pressure to make a quick arrest, pressure from politicians, the police commissioner and the Director of Public Prosecutions, not to mention the public and media.

Liz dug her fingers into the soles of her feet. “Unless ballistics turn up the gun and it’s got the killer’s name all over it, we’re pushing a waterfall uphill and all we’ve got is a toothpick.”

Anya phoned Martin who sounded relieved
that she was all right and even appeared sympathetic about the situation. Whatever Hayden had told Martin was clearly reassuring. Ben was safe and happy. She checked her messages on Kate’s computer and downloaded the articles on genetic criminality. Maybe there was something in there that could help the police, or help in the Harbourn trial.

She had to do something or she would feel completely useless. This felt just like one of her times in casualty, when a car accident involved a drunk driver hitting a family with four young kids. Despite working on them all night, none of the family survived. The drunk driver walked away uninjured.

Doctors and nurses stayed in casualty for hours after their shifts had finished, not just to help with the backlog of patients. No one wanted to go home and deal with the emotional fallout of the deaths alone.

Zimmer wandered into Homicide. “Crime scene’s pretty clean. Our killer doesn’t want to be found.”

Anya thought that didn’t sound like the Harbourns. Getting caught didn’t seem to faze them, particularly if avoiding detection meant more work and less impulse. Maybe Noelene was the brains in the organization after all.

Kate rummaged through her desk for something, ignoring Zimmer.

“McNab is about to go over the casing and the bullet. Thought you’d want to be there.”

Kate found the item she had been searching for—a pack of Lifesaver lollies. “You need to ask?”

“Hey, I’m a gentleman.” Zimmer turned to Anya. “Why are you still around? Can’t bear to be away from us beautiful people?”

“Something like that.” Truth was, she was waiting for Kate to take her home to get some toiletries and clothes before staying at her place for protection. Knowing Kate, she wouldn’t leave until she’d run out of calls to make or leads to chase that day.

Kate headed straight for the stairwell. Anya and Zimmer followed.

As they entered the firearms lab, Zimmer chatted while Anya did her best to disguise how puffed she was.

“How are the drum lessons going?”

“They’re not. I’ve been away and now I’m just too busy.”

“Maybe I’ll just have to bring my sax over so we can play some time.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Hello? Gagging over here.”

Zimmer looked wounded. “I’m serious. I play in a jazz band. Anya knows that. We’ve been trying to get her to jam with us for ages.”

Anya grinned and nodded.

Kate ignored him.

The firearms expert, Nick McNab hung up the phone in his glass office and joined everyone in the lab. He pulled on a white coat and did up the only two buttons that met in the middle.

“Thanks for coming, I know what this case means to everyone here. Guess you’d like to see what we’ve got.”

They moved around a stereoscopic microscope connected to a television on a mobile stand.

“It’s easier if I show you.” Doctor McNab focused the microscope and showed a cartridge case. “This was found at the scene. The humble case is often overlooked in assisting with identification of a weapon. Most of the markings are found on the closed end, where the primer is located. A crater forms when the firing pin is struck by the hammer and forced into the primer.”

He moved an arrow and pointed to the base. “As you can see, this has a few distinct markings. The breech markings occur when the case is pushed back against the breech block by the burning gases. As we have here, in a semiautomatic, extractor markings and ejector markings are left on the rim. We can also look for markings left by the magazine lip on the side of the case.”

Anya watched the screen, unsure of exactly what marks she was seeing. “The eye of faith” was what her mother called it when a group of experts nodded about seeing something at the same time. Odds were, she wasn’t alone in not being able to understand what McNab described.

“Can you point out what exactly we’re looking at?”

Kate could always be trusted to get to the point quickly.

“Nick’s just saying there are a couple of different impressions made on the head of the case. The firing pin marks on impact, and through recoil when the base is forced back against the breech block. By the way, this is a rim fire.”

McNab looked up from the microscope. “That’s what I said, except for the rim fire bit at the end.”

Zimmer put his hands up, “Sorry, just making sure we’re all on the same page.”

Kate stood, hands in pockets. “Can you identify the make and model from these markings?”

“This is from a .22 caliber semiautomatic. From what John says, it was a hand gun.”

“What about the bullet in the wall?”

McNab sighed and swiveled on his chair. “Not much left of it, I’m afraid it’s only a fragment. I can tell you it was a hollow point, but there was something odd we found. It had wheel-bearing grease on its nose.”

Kate glanced up at Zimmer. “When I was a kid, my father used to use hollow points to cull rabbits.”

“The structure facilitates expansion on contact,” McNab explained, “thereby killing the animal more quickly.”

“What’s the wheel grease for?” Anya asked, having not encountered it before.

“It’s new to me too,” said Zimmer. “I don’t know the significance.”

Kate rubbed her temple. “It may or may not be relevant, but my dad used to put a smear of vaseline on the tips of his bullets. I remember because I used to help. Reason was, he said it made the bullets pass faster through the barrel.”

“Grease has a higher melting point than water, so it would accentuate the concept of the bullet expanding, like a ramming device, you could say.”

“Isn’t that what I said?” Kate whispered to Anya.

“So, whoever shot Natasha had knowledge of guns and was probably a hunter?”

“Or just grew up on a farm like I did,” Kate added. “If that’s the case, the choice of weapon doesn’t sit right.”

“Go on, Detective,” McNab folded his arms in anticipation.

“We all know the .22 is fairly easy to come by. Sporting shooters, armed robbers, security men and every wannabe crook has one. Hell, before we heard of corruption, police used them as fit-up guns.”

“Those were the days,” Zimmer put his thumbs over his belt and rocked on his heels, “when you could shoot some bastard, then fire the fit-up gun and whack it into his dead hand. No doubt about it, any judge would rule self-defense every time. Yep, those were the good old days.”

Kate smacked his arm with the back of her hand. “This is serious. A .22 isn’t exactly sniper material. It’s a huge risk, having to get so close to be accurate, especially if the target’s mobile. I wouldn’t even use one for self-defense.”

McNab suggested, “Maybe the shooter wanted Natasha Ryder to know who killed her. Maybe he deliberately went that close. I mean, if it was personal.”

Zimmer became somber again. “Or could be our shooter doesn’t care if he gets caught.”

With that, discussion halted. Anya and Kate seemed to have the same thought. The Harbourns not only had reason to dislike the prosecutor, but were not afraid of the legal consequences. They acted as if they were above the law. Even so, it still wasn’t their style. Unless they had hired a professional this time to remove Natasha from the trial.

Noelene had plenty of seedy connections and Natasha had been involved in prosecutions against the family before. This time the stakes were higher than ever. They had a lot to lose.

If the killer were someone else, the Harbourns had definitely benefited. Luck didn’t seem to be something that followed the family around.

“Nick, everything okay?” Zimmer appeared concerned.

McNab uncrossed his arms. “Something just doesn’t sit right. There’s something familiar about these cartridge markings that’s bothering me. Let’s run it through our database. If it matches anything, we’ll know in a couple of hours.”

Kate headed toward the door. “Thanks, and call me any time. No such thing as too late.”

The trio exited the laboratory and walked the two flights back to Homicide.

“Wheeler found out that Noelene Harbourn’s brother has a farm west of here—the one where we found the list. Apparently the boys would go up and shoot foxes and rabbits on weekends. Maybe we should go up there with a metal detector and check it out.”

“Did they keep weapons out there?” It was a long shot but if they had killed Natasha maybe the murder weapon was hidden there.

“No such luck. They wised up. Those guns we found in the wall of their house were from a robbery. They probably sold the rest on the black market or have another stash somewhere.”

Back at her desk Kate threw her jacket over her chair. “Still bothers me, though. We think these guys have access to firepower better than a .22. This just doesn’t fit their pattern of using a truck of dynamite to blow away a cockroach. Natasha got one shot in the head. Quick and clean. No signs of overkill or any other violence.”

She sat down and put her feet up on the desk. “It doesn’t fit their usual lust for blood and suffering. I mean, look at what they did to Rachel Goodwin.”

Zimmer sat on Wheeler’s desk. “Got to admit that car accident wasn’t their style either. Far too subtle. If they wanted to send a message to the rest of the clan about sticking together, they could have made more of a show of Savannah’s death.”

As a mother, it was possible that Noelene had more control over her sons than they realized. “What if the mother hadn’t agreed to the killings? What if they were out on their own, knowing the police were sniffing around. Wouldn’t that make anyone more cautious?”

“Not necessarily, we had one serial killer know he was under surveillance. Didn’t stop him walking into a house and killing a victim with the police outside. A ferret still kills for pleasure, whether it’s hungry or not.”

Anya and Kate looked at him, then laughed.

“God, you’re corny,” Kate said.

“What? I used to keep ferrets as a kid. They kill for fun, it’s what they’re bred for.”

Kate laughed until she snorted, then the other two joined in.

It was enough to break the tension. The truth was, they were all intimidated by possible threats to their own safety and this was one place they could feel relaxed despite the late hour.

Minutes later, Anya was headed to her home to pick up a toiletries bag and change of clothes, so she could stay the night in Kate’s spare room—for protection from the Harbourns. All humor was quickly forgotten.