Forgotten (22 page)

And he
didn’t. He, Saul Reardon, was all about control. It was how he
survived an event that few people would have. That same event had
provided him with the emotional license to do as he saw fit; to
apply his own set of rules in the name of helping others, using the
skills he now possessed and the protection from a higher
authority.

And he was damn good at it.

Ethan
returned to Reardon’s desk and grabbed the magical snow globe. He
shook the globe and watched it with unusual silence. A whirlpool of
white tumbled aimlessly until it eventually settled into a thick,
lush carpet. Ethan then studied Saul, wearing an expression that,
in Reardon’s eyes, was surprisingly
humorless. “Issie was three when she gave you this, wasn’t
she?” he asked, lifting the globe.

Reardon slumped back into his chair,
stretched out his legs and nodded. It had been the last thing Issie
had ever given him. Something cold and razor-sharp sliced his
heart, and he was desperate to drop the topic. “You think this
sudden self-doubt is crazy, right?”

Ethan
replaced the globe. “On the contrary, not at all. I’m guessing it’s
because ‘this one,’ as you like to term Claudia, actually means
something to you. You’ve become involved.
And I’m not just talking about your whole connecting with
her nasty history thing.”

“
They all
mean something to me,” Reardon said. “I get involved with all those
I help.”

“
I know, but
you’ve already admitted, not like this.”

Reardon
didn’t much care for where this conversation was heading. He said
nothing. It was probably safer.

“Come on man, do I have to spell it out for
you?”

“
You just
might have to.”
What the hell
had possessed him to open up to Ethan in the first place?
“In fact, don’t… don’t say another
word.”

Reardon stretched the back of his neck,
tried to relieve some of its swelling tightness. “Why does
everything in your life have to involve sex?”

Ethan
grinned. “Nah, this isn’t about sex, mate. This is about you being,
well… you being… smitten.”

Reardon
widened his eyes and half-laughed. Ethan remained staring at him
with crooked eyebrows, and a large, smug, very irritating
grin.

“
You’re
actually serious, aren’t
you? Shit! And I thought my head was screwed this morning. For one,
I don’t get ‘smitten.’ Remember? And two, need I remind you that I
only met her yesterday?”

“
Need I
remind you that your involvement with her began almost two weeks
ago? Something triggered back then, something that’s grown over
time. You call it
‘different’; I call it
being drawn to her. You call it ‘connection’; I call it falling for
her. You can play any linguistic game you wish but at the end of
the day, it means the same fricking thing. You… are…
smitten.”

Ethan leaned
closer to Reardon as if sharing a private joke. “I’ll let you in on
something else. When I walked in last night, there was enough
fricking electricity generating between the pair of you to power
the entire Sunshine Coast!” Ethan sighed. “You know, it’s been so
bloody long you can’t even see it for what it is. You, whose
instincts are often borderline inhuman and you can’t see this.
Hell, if it wasn’t so sad, it’d be funny.”

Reardon
groaned, pulled himself up and
stood once
more before the outdoor panorama. Crossing his arms, his body fell
into a deep stillness; his mind was anything but.

Of course,
he found Claudia attractive. What man wouldn’t? But at the most,
any attraction could only be sexual, as it had been with every
other woman he’d been with in the past six years. He would hardly
categorize that as
smitten
.

But he also couldn’t deny that Ethan knew
him better than anyone else did. Or the fact that it would readily
explain his out of character behavior.

Claudia.

He thought of her with fresh eyes.

And something warm took light in his
chest.

As simple as that.

His
unsettledness had now ballooned to downright
aggravation. How the hell did this happen? He stole several
more moments in an effort to regain some of his former control,
even though it seemed to be deserting him faster than his logic. He
turned to Ethan. “Just say you’re right.”

Ethan
shrugged. “I am right.”

“Well, whatever. You know what it would
mean.”

“
That we’re
right back to square one, you doubting your ability to protect
her.”

“
It’s not
doubt, Ethan. It would then be a certainty. It
would
jeopardize the way I
operate; it would jeopardize her safety. And if I can’t control
that then I would have to take myself off this case. And the sooner
the better.”

At the very
least, Reardon knew this much to be true.

“
I know,”
Ethan said, “that’s the bummer.”

They were both silent for a while.

“
Mate, I’m
not going to lecture you, me of all people. What you do is your
decision, but I just want you to consider something. You said
yourself, this is one very intricate, one very nasty case.” He
flicked his head in the laptop’s direction. “Especially in light of
that new info you’ve just received. Who then would help her if not
you? Whom would she go to? Her father? Weatherly? At the moment her
faith in people has been shot, but she trusts
you
.”

“And if my supposed emotions get in the way,
and I make the wrong decision, who does she trust then?”

“Saul, even at your worst, you’re still the
best. And I don’t say that lightly.”

Reardon flinched.

“
Listen, a
very wise man once told me you can’t control
everything
in life.
You can’t control whom you meet or when you meet them, how you may
feel about them or what may happen to them. You just have to do the
best you can with what you have, when you have it. Sound
familiar?”

Of course it did. Reardon grunted and ran
his hand slowly over his face. His palm was warm and moist.

“
As harsh as
this may sound,” Ethan went on, “sometimes you need to practice
what you preach.”

“This is truly messed up,” was all Reardon
could say.

“Yep.”

“More so because sometimes your crap can
actually make sense.”

“I know; scary isn’t it?”

Reardon
thought some more, although he doubted whether his head was even in
a rational place. “If I stay with this, promise me
something.”

“Anything.”

“
If I react
inappropriately or make a decision that you think is wrong, in any
way, you’ll tell me.”

“I’d do that anyway.”

“And if I want out, I do it without your
ongoing condemnations.”

Ethan
gritted his teeth, mumbled numerous words beneath his breath before
promising to do so. Reardon knew he could trust Ethan. His current
issue was whether he could trust himself.

“I’ll tell you one more thing,” Ethan said.
“I reckon you’ve seen something in her that you want, and I’m not
talking about that gorgeously curved body of hers or that she may
inadvertently have some answers for your own personal agenda.”

“Like what?”

“
Who do you
think I am? Bloody Freud? You work it out.” He jumped off the desk
and began making his way towards the door. “Time to get your arse
back into gear, mate. Weatherly is arriving soon and Claudia is
packing death over it. She needs you and frankly so do I. Can’t
stand the man. I swear just once I’m going to stick it where he’ll
feel it for a very long time.”

Reardon’s
thoughts exactly.
“I’ll be straight out,
just need to go through this latest material first.” As his friend
was about to exit, he thanked him.

“
No sweat,
mate. Just don’t make it a habit. I prefer it when
you’re
the strong
one.” And Ethan chuckled as he left.

December 27, 2010

7:55
am

I SAT
ALONE
on one of the two white lounges,
the one nearest to the softly whirring air conditioner. I felt
flushed. I wiped the moisture from my hairline and then locked my
clammy hands together. In my stomach, a fresh kaleidoscope of
butterflies fluttered madly.

Detective
Inspector Weatherly pulled up the knees of his long, navy pants and
sat opposite on the other lounge. He readjusted his matching
jacket, straightened his pinstripe tie with one methodical flick of
his wrist then casually crossed one leg over the other. With
several light sweeps, he brushed questionable fluff from his pants
and settled his rigid, hostile gaze upon me.

He was as I had remembered.

Two male
constables stood directly behind him, one with a note pad and pen,
the other with his hands crossed behind his back. Saul and Ethan
stationed themselves at the breakfast bar, mere
yards away.

“Are you ready?” Weatherly asked.

There were no initial greetings or even
questions as to how I was. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it
irked me just the same. I gave him a small nod.

“Can you then begin by leading me through
the events that occurred to you on the twenty-sixth of this
month?”

I did, step by horrifying step.

Once
recounted, a series of typical questions followed; questions about
my knowledge of the victim; my whereabouts at the time of
Iacovelli’s murder and so on, all of which I answered in complete
honesty. My car was held as evidence. I shrugged my shoulders. I
had no desire for its return.

“Do you keep your car locked?” Weatherly
again.

“Always.”

He semi-grinned, if that was at all possible
for the man. “Are you certain?”

Of course I was. These days, security and I
were intimate friends.

“It’s just there was no evidence to suggest
the locks had been tampered with.”

What did
that mean exactly? That I had left the car unlocked? Impossible. I
shot a glance at Saul. He wore a small, encouraging smile. I turned
back to Weatherly. “I don’t know what to say. I always lock
it.”

“And the spare key?”

That was easy. “My brother, Nate has
it.”

Weatherly glanced at the note-taking
constable to his rear, who was writing furiously. He caught
Weatherly’s eye and gave him a firm thumbs-up.

I sat
mortified. “Surely you don’t think Nate had anything to do with….”
And I stopped. The idea was simply too ridiculous.

But
Weatherly didn’t answer. Instead, he studied me beneath heavily
hooded eyes. “Who else knows about your brother having the
key?”

I wasn’t
sure and told Weatherly so.
“My family, I
guess. It’s not as if it’s a life-threatening secret.” And I
cringed at the unintended pun.

Weatherly
studied me some more. It was fast becoming irritating. “I’m going
to ask you again. Miss Cabriati, did you know Alice
Polinski?”

“
No,
Detective, as far as I know, I
did
not.”

There was no mistaking the imperious smirk
on Weatherly’s face.

“However, my parents did.” And I related my
recent conversation with my father.

Weatherly’s
smirk collapsed. He shifted and squirmed just enough to be
noticeable, and I semi-grinned.

“
It’s
just that previously you denied all knowledge of
Alice Polinski. But I’ve just received new information that
suggests otherwise.”

I asked about the new information.

“In her will, Alice Polinski left you
everything.”

I was
stunned, but in light of recent discoveries, it was hardly
surprising. I said as much to the detective who could do nothing
more but agree. With his trump card clearly obliterated, he
finished by asking if I had any further knowledge that could
support their investigation.

That I surely did.

The boxes in the bedroom illustrating my
early life, the recorded conversations with Senator Macey and
Colt/Iacovelli; the idea that there existed a group of covert, gun
fanatics. I again glanced at Saul, recalling our earlier
conversation.

“
How much do I tell Weatherly,” I ask him only
minute
s before the Detective
Inspector arrives. “What do I say or don’t say?”

Saul is sitting on a kitchen barstool next
to me, his Nike clad feet hitched onto the stool’s footrest. He is
wearing a white loosely hung shirt and blue jeans. I think how hot
the combination is on him. Today I notice a changed quality in his
eyes, but I can’t quite make out what it is.

“
Whatever you feel is right,” he says in
his usual placid manner. “Be truthful. Then again, if you decide
not to disclose something, then that’s your choice.”

“
But….”

But what?

There are scores of those frustrating buts, not one of
which I now have time to follow through. Ethan has just stepped
into the room.

“
Time to arm yourselves,” he announces,
“the manic little boy in blue has arrived.”

My heartbeat hiccups as I look to Saul. He
jumps off the stool, grips onto my upper arms and says, “Just
follow your instincts.” He smiles, then strides confidently into
the adjacent hallway and to the front door.