The Twisted Knot (2 page)

‘You're lucky Sparky didn't catch you too,' Sammi retorted.

‘We all have to play by the same rules,' Bob cut in, motioning to Sammi with both hands in a ‘settle down' gesture.

‘Police are friggin' exempt from traffic tickets anyway,' Aiden said.

‘Not this one,' Bob replied. ‘And don't give me attitude.'

‘I was probably waving to someone, or pointing something out. He can fucken make a statement and I'll see him in court,' Aiden said.

‘It's not going anywhere, Aiden. But you're a copper. Act like one,' Bob warned.

‘Yes, Sergeant,' Aiden said, with only a trace of sarcasm, small enough for Bob to ignore. Aiden looked like he was about to add a remark to Sammi but thought better of it.

‘I did you a favour, I talked the guy out of it,' Sammi said, sharply.

‘I didn't say anything,' Aiden said.

‘Yeah, not even “thank you”.'

‘Thank you for doing your job?'

‘Next time I'll do my job and take the complaint against you.'

‘Settle down you two,' Bob interjected. ‘We're all on the same team.'

‘Yeah, except I actually go out and do some work.' Aiden had a sly smile on his face as he watched Sammi's reaction.

Sammi took the bait. ‘Pull your head in,' she said, her voice louder than she intended.

‘You,' Bob said, pointing at Aiden, ‘out!' Aiden shot Sammi another smug smile before walking away.

Bob turned to her, exasperation on his face. ‘You should have left it to me.'

‘He's got a bad attitude,' she replied, clenching and unclenching her fists.

‘Don't let him get to you. You're bigger than that, Sammi. Save your anger for something worthwhile.'

Sammi nevertheless stewed until the end of her shift. In the locker room, she tried again to ignore her utility belt. After the abduction, her family and friends had been shocked when she said she planned to return to work. Her mother had stared at her in disbelief. ‘It's so dangerous. I don't think I can take any more stress. Please don't go back,' Mum had implored.

But being a copper was her career. Why did a bad experience mean she could no longer do her job? If anything, Sammi thought, it would make her a better officer, giving her insight into how the victims of crime felt. Sammi's training as a police officer had saved her rather than put her in danger.

Any day now
, she told herself. She'd choose a case that interested her, partner up with someone she trusted and leave the safety of the station. She'd be an operational officer again.

Today had not been that day though. Today had been one shit counter job after another. The sense of frustration she had been battling all day surged up. She rested her head against the cold metal of the locker. She didn't want to keep playing it safe, but she wasn't ready to go out either. She was struggling to deal with half-baked traffic complaints within the safety of the station. Maybe people were right and she'd never be ready to go out again. Maybe she was doomed to hide behind the security glass at the front counter for the rest of her career.

Maybe she no longer had what it took to be a copper. The courage to look a crook in the eye and issue him with a command. The tenacity to search a druggie's car. The motivation to follow up an assault complaint. The thing that had initially drawn her to policing was now the part she found hardest to deal with – the uncertainty. She wouldn't still be on medication for anxiety if she had what it took to be a police officer.

She swallowed hard, her mouth tacky like she'd chewed cardboard. It was time to re-assess.

2

‘Fucken bitch.'

Aiden was in the passenger seat as they cruised out of the station. He wound his window down and deliberately hung his arm out of the patrol car.

‘You'll be the one on counter duties if you keep that up, mate,' Tom replied from the driver's seat. He flicked up the button for the passenger's window on his door panel. The window rose an inch, jabbing into Aiden's bicep.

Aiden glared at him and pushed down on his window button so the glass disappeared back into the door frame. But then he brought his arm back into the car.

‘Sammi thinks she fucken runs the place. You get yourself abducted by some serial killer and the world is meant to revolve around you forever after. She's got Bob sucking up her arse too. He thinks everything still works like it did in the eighties when he joined the job.'

Tom liked Sammi and part of him felt like he should defend her. But he'd worked with Aiden for long enough to know there was no point in trying to reason with him when it came to personal opinions. He could be very unpleasant to work with if he had the shits with you. He'd dodge jobs or take a step back when he needed to jump forward. And they had night work coming up together. With a silent apology to Sammi, Tom kept his mouth shut.

‘We should go around to her house, turn off the water meter or something,' Aiden said.

‘You'd probably piss Gav off. He'd be the one who'd have to sort it out,' Tom replied.

‘We could go get a tin of dog food, leave it in the letterbox.'

‘Really? C'mon, Aiden. She didn't even take the complaint. Don't be a dick.'

‘I just don't like the bitch. She hangs around the station with her thumb up her bum doing nothing.'

‘Did you want to do counter duties then?' Tom fired back. Most officers went out of their way to avoid working on the counter.

‘Talking to spoons about their missing cats all day? Give me a fucken break. The counter's for AOs and chicks who can't hack it on the road. But I'll bet she's still on shift allowance. And when's the last time she did night work? We have to take up the slack because she's still carrying on about something that happened over a year ago. A small station like ours needs everyone pulling their weight. They should transfer her to Brisbane. She should go to the academy or something. She'd love having a bunch of first-years hanging off her every word.'

Tom shrugged, not prepared to buy into the argument.

‘I'm not working with her if she ever comes back on the road,' Aiden continued. ‘You couldn't trust her to back you up when the shit hit the fan. She'd probably hide in the car, lock the doors and start hyperventilating.'

‘I'm sure she'll only go out again when she thinks she can handle it.'

‘
If
she can handle it,' Aiden said. ‘I'd say that might be never.'

3

It had taken dinner and a couple of glasses of wine, but Sammi had finally let go of the frustrations of the day.

She was curled on the couch in front of the TV with Gavin. Her head rested on a pillow in his lap and she let the fake explosions from the action movie on the television wash over her in flashes of light and noise.

My ability to overcome my obstacles is limitless; my capacity to succeed is boundless.
The police-funded psychiatrist had suggested she use personal affirmations to keep her on track when the anxiety and self-doubt started to take over. Most of the guys at work would make fun of these sort of bullshit pep-talks, but Sammi used them frequently in the privacy of her own mind. She wouldn't even say them out loud in front of Gavin. However feeble they seemed on the surface, they worked. Today had shaken her, yet again. How could she cope back out on the road when a run-in with a colleague rattled her?

Gavin tickled behind her ear. She turned slightly so she could offer him a drowsy smile.

‘Hey, I've been thinking . . .' He trailed off before he had even properly begun.

She realised he was waiting for some sort of acknowledgement from her. ‘Hmmm?'

Gavin grabbed the remote and hit the mute button, the crashes on the screen exploding soundlessly. Sammi half-turned towards him, her attention captured.

‘I've been thinking of becoming a copper,' he said.

Sammi started, her head lifting suddenly out of Gavin's lap. Then she deliberately relaxed herself, laid her head back down, facing away from Gavin. Well, that came out of nowhere. When had he suddenly decided to change career? And why did he want to step onto her turf? The light from a new explosion on the TV lit her face with strobe flashes. She took a deep breath, surreptitiously.

‘Really?' she asked quietly.

‘Yeah. Being a mechanic's a dead-end. Policing's a great career.'

‘Mmm . . .' There was no arguing that it had better conditions than the automotive industry.

‘And I think I've got a good idea what to expect. I spend enough time with the crew, I've heard all the stories.'

‘Listening to the blokes exaggerate war stories over beers after work is not quite like real life,' Sammi replied before Gavin could go on.

‘I know,' he said quickly. ‘There's all the corro. I'll have to get my head around the paperwork, but I think I'd be all right out on the road. The boys have all been really encouraging. They said they'd help me out with getting through the interview and then all the law at the academy. You know it's only a few months at the academy. I'd come home every weekend.'

‘There's no guarantee you would be able to work at Angel's Crossing after you're sworn in,' she ventured.

‘I think there'd be a pretty good chance,' he replied. ‘They're always looking for staff to come out here. Even if they didn't offer it to me as a posting, the boys said I could swap with someone who was sent out this way who didn't want to go.'

He kept on going on about what ‘the boys' had said. How long had he been plotting this? How many discussions had gone on behind her back? No one at the station had said anything about this. And who had he been talking with exactly? Tom? Bob? Surely not Aiden?

‘I know I'd have to do my first year at Gympie probably because Angel's Crossing's not big enough to be a training station. But that's not so far. I could find somewhere to crash on quick shifts or night work and drive home the other days. It's only a year,' he said.

‘I guess,' Sammi replied, noncommittally. Why did he want to work with her? These past couple of years, he had supported her when she needed it most, in ways that had often surprised her. Sometimes she regretted that she had put her own interests first while she was still recovering. But he had weathered all the mood swings and unreasonable behaviour that came with her anxiety. She thought he'd taken it all in his stride. She hadn't seen this coming and considered now what Gavin's motivation was.

He wasn't the jealous type but police work did encourage close relationships with your colleagues. Even though there weren't any permanent work partnerships, people often worked together on a regular basis in a station the size of Angel's Crossing. Night work, for instance, usually consisted of the same crew for up to seven days. For a whole week of eight-hour shifts, you were on the road with the same person, often simply cruising around,
shooting the shit. You'd spend more time chatting with your work partner than your life partner. Sammi believed this was the reason why coppers often married coppers, or alternatively cheated on their spouses with other coppers. Was Gavin worried about this? Did he want to keep an eye on her?

Gavin paused, then lowered his voice. ‘If you asked . . . you know they'd probably post me here with you. Compassionate grounds and all that. They're still looking after you. You'd only have to say it would help your rehabilitation. You know they'd take it into account.'

Is that why he wanted to keep an eye on her? Because he thought she wasn't coping? That he had to come in and rescue her? She considered her words carefully. She wanted to dissuade him, without sounding petty and bitter.

‘I don't think it would be right to ask,' Sammi mumbled.

Gavin reached his arms around her, and pressed his face into the side of her neck.

‘How cool would it be to work together? Out on the road. Fighting crime. I'd always have your back,' he murmured into her hair.

She had cocooned herself in his protectiveness through the hard times over the past year – but now, for the first time, it was backfiring.

She wriggled around in his arms so she was facing up at him.

‘Is that what you want?' she asked. ‘You want to work with me?'

‘Yeah. Of course. Don't you?' he replied, a little taken aback.

‘Do you want to be a copper? Or do you just want to work with me?'

‘Both. I mean, I think it would be great to join the police. Working with you would be a bonus.' He rubbed the top of her arm, seeking validation. Validation she didn't feel she could give right now.

‘Aren't you happy at work?' she asked.

‘Happy enough. But policing would be better. There's a future in it. And it's somewhere I could make a difference. The pay's good too. Better than being a mechanic.'

‘If you're going to do it, you have to be doing it for the right reasons.'

‘Wanting a meaningful career and a job with a future isn't the right reason?' he asked.

‘Of course it is. But don't get caught up in the blokes telling stories about car chases and taserings. There's a shitload of paperwork after most of that stuff.'

‘I know that, I've heard you bitching about all the pointless stuff for years now. Give me a little credit.' Although he still had his arms around her, Gavin shifted his weight so he leant out from Sammi.

‘Okay. I don't want you thinking the job is something it's not,' Sammi said. She didn't want to make him cross but she hadn't seen this coming and didn't want a bodyguard. ‘If you want to become a copper, you've got to do it for you. Not for me.'

4

Sammi sat in her car in the staff carpark at the back of the station. For one brief moment, she considered starting the vehicle up, driving home and calling in sick from under the safety of her doona.

Aiden's car was parked in the best spot, under the shady tree against the fence. He lived at the barracks, so it was usually parked there. It didn't necessarily mean he was at work. She was pretty sure he was rostered on though. She drew a deep breath and a little sigh escaped as she exhaled.

She had done the right thing yesterday. Aiden had acted like an arsehole and everyone knew it. Sammi glanced over. Bob's white Landcruiser was here too. Someone on her side. Bob had known her for years and still treated her exactly the same as he had before the abduction.

Angel's Crossing police station had a fairly high turnover of staff, particularly amongst the junior members, because if an officer did three years there, they had a better chance of securing a posting at one of the sought-after coastal spots. So in the year that Sammi had been on extended sick leave, there had been several new officers start. They only knew her by reputation – crazy stories of serial killers and helicopter rescues – and regarded her with a mixture of fear and reverence, neither of which Sammi felt deserving of. They seemed to be scared they may say the wrong thing to her, or thought she was some sort of hero. Either way, they didn't particularly want to work with her.

And then there was Aiden, who she had often worked with before the abduction. They'd never really had a problem beforehand. She couldn't fathom why he was now outwardly hostile to her. He sneered at her anxiety, stopped talking when she entered the room and put her down at every opportunity. To what end? What had she done to deserve his rudeness?

Sammi let the indignation rise and build, little eddies of self-righteousness swirling in the front of her brain. Sometimes a little anger gave her the confidence to inhabit ‘Constable Willis' and stride back into work like she belonged there. It would have been so easy to leave, or to let them tuck her away into a desk job at headquarters. But she did still want to be a cop. Some days she wasn't sure if it was passion or stubbornness, the refusal to let anything or anyone dictate what she did or didn't do. Either way, she wanted to get back out there. Otherwise, ‘he' would win. She avoided even thinking his name.

Sammi tilted the rear-vision mirror towards her so she could stare herself down. ‘My ability to overcome my obstacles is limitless,' she muttered. She hardly recognised the woman staring back at her, felt completely at odds with her. She looked like a professional and capable police officer. Someone you could turn to with your problems.

A movement to her left caught her attention. Mel was climbing out of her silver hatchback two cars down from Sammi. Mel always arrived only a couple of minutes before the start of the shift. How long had Sammi been sitting there, mired in her own thoughts? Too late to turn around and go home now.

She swung out of her car and smoothed down her shirt.

‘Morning, Mel,' she called, trying to make her voice sound light.

‘Hey Sammi.' Mel gave her a smile. ‘Another day in beautiful downtown Angel's Crossing.'

They walked in the back door together, splitting at the first corridor. Sammi walked back to the locker rooms to pretend to kit up, while Mel went to unlock the front door. When Sammi walked out to the counter, tucking her notebook into her top pocket, Mel was walking back from the front door.

She held an envelope out to Sammi. ‘Someone must have slid this under the front door overnight.'

It was a plain white envelope, with ‘POLICE' written on the front. Sammi took it, turning it over once before ripping it open. She pulled out a single sheet of A4 paper, folded evenly twice. There was a single sentence written in the middle. It said ‘Peter Woodford is a pedophile. Do your job.'

She turned the piece of paper over, then opened the envelope to check for anything further. But that was it. One single sentence printed in neat capitals in black marker.

They often received anonymous mail like this at the station. Usually it came in their post office box. Often it was written by people with mental problems. There was one elderly gentleman who regularly sent fifteen-page manifestos detailing Indonesia's plan for the invasion of Australia. But this note was different. Its simplicity gave it credibility. A statement without explanation or justification. Sammi put the paper and envelope on the front counter, regretting that she hadn't pulled on a pair of latex gloves before she'd opened it.

Mel was looking over her shoulder.

‘Do you know who Peter Woodford is?' Sammi asked.

Mel pulled a face like she'd bitten into an apple to find half a worm.

‘Go and show Bob,' she replied. She looked at Mel again, surprised she didn't have some story to share about the person.

Bob appeared from nowhere at the sound of his name.

‘Show Bob what?' he asked.

‘Envelope shoved under the front door,' Sammi said, gesturing to the piece of paper on the counter.

Bob peered forward. Then his face tightened, his mouth pulling downwards.

He grabbed the paper and envelope, screwing it up with a decisive twist. Then he flattened it out enough to get it through the slot on the confidential waste bin.

‘Ancient history,' he muttered, then stalked up the corridor towards the boss's office before Sammi had a chance to ask anything further. Sammi turned to Mel, her mouth opening and shutting twice before the words came out.

‘What was all that about?' she asked, equal parts aghast and dumbfounded.

Mel shook her head. ‘Not my place to say.'

Sammi looked at her in surprise. Some gossip that even Mel thought was off limits? Now she was really interested.

‘C'mon,' she implored Mel. ‘You can't say that and then not explain.'

Mel
shook
her
head
and
walked
away
to
show
she
really
meant
it.

‘Mel?'

She kept walking.