The Devil Inside Read online

  She surveyed her surroundings, the absurdity of the question not lost on her. She was about as far from ‘available’ as she could possibly be – and the drug was starting to make her a little drowsy. ‘No, I’m not,’ she said, concentrating hard on keeping awake but feeling her eyelids droop. ‘And I probably won’t be for the rest of the day either I’m afraid. What’s going on?’

  ‘Ah, shit. Okay … no worries, leave it with me then. You stay and do whatever it is you’re doing … Give me a buzz later on then, if you get a chance.’

  Charlotte wasn’t surprised by the curtness of his tone – knowing the standards she set at work, she would’ve been exactly the same had the situation been reversed. But she had carried the team on her shoulders for long enough – surely a bit of payback wasn’t too much to ask.

  ‘I’m sorry, J.D. – I’ve got to do this. Tell me what’s going on and I’ll give you my five cents.’

  ‘Fine,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I just thought you should know, Joseph was assaulted at the church last night. He’s okay,’ he added quickly as Charlotte let out a gasp, ‘just a bump on the head. He lost consciousness for a short time, but he’s all right. He reported it this morning – wouldn’t say much other than it was a man and that he, and I quote, “didn’t get a good look at him”. He wouldn’t elaborate on how it happened or why; maybe it was someone reacting to his arrest, maybe the guy who left that burning turd on the church steps the other day, who knows. Anyway, I’m going out to have a word with him and thought you might want to tag along, but that’s fine. You do what you have to and I’ll keep you updated with how I go. Just keep your phone handy, okay?’

  Charlotte shook her head, aggravated by her situation. She needed to be out there speaking to Joseph, finding out the truth about what happened. Experience had taught her that people rarely got assaulted for no reason – especially priests, and especially priests who had just been released from police custody as a suspect in a triple murder case. Clearly there was more going on than Joe was prepared to divulge. She was positive her presence could change that.

  ‘Fuck it,’ she said, her voice carrying in the quiet room and causing heads to swivel her way. Sorry, she mouthed, holding her hand up in a gesture of goodwill, which did little to pacify the frowns. ‘I’ll have my phone on me all day – ring me when you have anything at all, okay?’ She kicked her feet together in annoyance. ‘There’s more to this than meets the eye, you know that don’t you? Tell Joe I passed on my thoughts and that I’ll contact him soon. And tell him I said to tell you the whole truth, not just the bit he wants us to hear.’

  J.D. laughed. ‘Anything else, Boss? Should I have salt and pepper on my salad roll for lunch too?’

  ‘Piss off, smart-arse.’ She kept her voice down this time but couldn’t hide her grin. Trust J.D. to cheer her up in a situation like this; even on her death bed he’d probably make her laugh. ‘I’m just trying to help, that’s all. You worry about yourself, okay?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Okay, I’ll be in touch. Oh, one more thing – I heard back from Corey Garsell at the Motivation Factory. He’s trolled through all the footage and had no luck in terms of any suspects. He’s more than happy to give us a copy of the recordings, but other than your mystery woman, we might be at a bit of a dead end as far as the gym goes. I put the word out as much as I could though. Garsell says he’ll let us know if he hears anything, and I spoke to some other members there; let them know what we were investigating and why. Other than frightening the shit out of a few of them, I didn’t achieve much. But the flyer is up on the noticeboard, so we might still get something.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Charlotte bit her bottom lip. ‘I’m not prepared to write it off just yet – there’s something not quite right there, but I can’t put my finger on it. Anyway, let me know how you go.’

  After ending the call, Charlotte held the phone in her hand, tapping it against her chin as her mind fought against the effects of the drug in a vain attempt to stay lucid. Joseph was okay, that was the main thing, but the assault threw up a whole new set of questions – ones she wasn’t in any state to try to answer. And something about that gym made her skin crawl.

  She had no choice but to leave it up to J.D.

  Relinquishing responsibility was not one of her strong suits – she was a type A personality who relished being in charge, especially on a big case like this. Still, even she knew there were some things in life more important than work, and she needed to focus on getting better.

  The skin around the impact site of the needle had reddened slightly, her body making its own protest against the poison that was seeping in. Charlotte couldn’t help but think of the parallels with her life. On a daily basis, she dealt with life’s scum, the evil part of humanity that others never even knew existed. She had no doubt it filtered its way into her system, damaging her inside in a way she could never hope to repair. No matter how hard she fought against it, tried to repel it, the task was a futile one. In the end, all she could do was hope that she could do some good – make society a better place.

  Only time would tell whether that happened or not. Just like the evil that was coursing through her veins, it was a matter of watching and waiting for the outcome.

  The fact remained: some survived, some didn’t.

  Her phone buzzed again with another incoming call. Jack. Charlotte let it ring out.

  She couldn’t handle that right now, on top of everything else.

  CHAPTER 27

  With the morning’s chemotherapy still coursing through her veins, Charlotte pulled into the church’s pebbled driveway and manoeuvred her way around to the side entry, where she could access the office. She knew Joseph would be in there.

  From where she was parked, she could see out across the ocean, the rough surf battering the cliff-face, gulls swooping overhead in the sunlight. She remained in the vehicle for a few minutes to compose herself, reaching into the console and grabbing a mint. She popped it into her mouth and rested her head back. The nausea didn’t allow her to eat much – especially on the day of treatment – and even though her stomach was growling, the thought of food almost made her hurl on the spot. Normally she avoided Joseph in the few days after her chemo, but she needed to see him, to try to make things right.

  This time the queasiness wasn’t just from the drugs – this visit was not going to be pleasant.

  Breath minty-fresh, she opened the car door, the burst of warm sea air a natural balm, and wandered over to the office. She spotted Joseph immediately, poised in front of his laptop, a steaming cup of tea and a plate containing two biscuits sitting on the desk next to him.

  ‘Monte Carlos?’ she asked.

  He looked up, but didn’t return her smile. His eyes were tired. ‘Of course,’ he answered brusquely, but he offered her one nonetheless. ‘If you’re going to eat sugary crap, it might as well be the best.’

  She waved the plate away, confident that if she ate one, he would regret the clean-up within a minute or two.

  ‘Geez, you look like shit,’ Joseph said, nudging his laptop screen downward and easing his chair away from the desk. His surprise at her appearance seemed to thaw his attitude slightly. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m not a hundred per cent; just a bug I think,’ she said vaguely. ‘Nothing worse than feeling crap when the weather’s warm outside. But enough about me, how are you feeling?’

  ‘Are you asking as Detective Callaghan or as my sister?’ Joseph said, his eyebrows raised. ‘I’ve already had your partner out here questioning me, once again inferring that I’m hiding something. I’d back you all the way, Charlotte – always have, always will – but sometimes I think … You coppers are all the same. Everyone’s guilty – and even those who aren’t are hiding something.’

  Charlotte shrugged. ‘That’s because it’s usually true,’ she said. ‘Everyone has secrets. But right now, I’m here to check on my brother – the one who got assaulted yesterday.’

  Joseph exhaled, stretching both
arms above his head before resting his hands in his lap. ‘I’m fine,’ he said, not meeting her gaze. ‘There’s a lump on the back of my head where I got whacked – the doctor at emergency said I was probably unconscious for less than a minute, so it’s not that big a deal. All the tests came back clear, so nothing to worry about.’ He ran his hand over the back of his head as he spoke, wincing as he traversed the bump.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  They sat in silence, their gazes falling everywhere but on each other. Out the open window, a brightly coloured rosella was attempting to crack a seed pod, swaying on a thin bough, bathed in sunlight. It failed, and took flight in a blur of reds and greens.

  ‘Okay …’ Charlotte said, finally breaking the thickened ice. ‘Taking my sister hat off and putting my detective one on, what can you tell me about who did it?’

  ‘I told you, I’ve already been through this with Detective Darken.’ Joseph’s shoulders slumped in frustration. ‘Do I really have go through it all again? Or is this a tactic of yours, and you’re trying to catch me out in a lie or something?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Joe. I want to catch the person who did this. You’ve had someone attack the church itself, and now physically attack you. All that on top of the things we found in your car and you telling us that someone’s trying to set you up for the murders. I want to put this whole thing to bed, but I can only do that if I have all the pieces of the puzzle to slot together. Is there anything you can tell me that might help us?’

  Charlotte sensed a change in him straight away. She was well aware that he wasn’t the best liar, and never had been – something she had taken advantage of many times during their childhood. That hangdog expression was no different now to when she’d caught him sneaking alcohol through the back door and into his bedroom as a teenager. Theirs wasn’t a drinking family, so it had become a shared secret between them, a little something she could hold over him when she needed to.

  He licked his lips, his voice faltering as he spoke. ‘I told J.D. everything I could, which wasn’t much, but—’

  ‘Cut the crap, Joe,’ Charlotte interrupted, getting out of her seat and perching on the edge of the desk. ‘You were found unconscious by a parishioner on the floor next to the confessional, is that correct?’

  Joseph nodded.

  ‘Right. So the attack was either completely random and unprovoked, or it was right after someone had been in the booth. Am I right?’

  Joseph sat still, his eyes watching her.

  ‘If the person was in the booth, that means you have at least some idea of what they look like – albeit through the screen – and it means you probably spoke to them first. And I’m sure they didn’t go to confession to talk about leaving the bins out or forgetting to feed the dog.’ Scanning her brother’s face, Charlotte knew she’d hit a nerve. But she also knew the significance he placed on the sanctity of the confessional box. She could try, but she wouldn’t break him – even for something as important as this.

  ‘I’m neither confirming nor denying anything.’ He bit into a biscuit, brushing away the array of crumbs from his chest.

  ‘He assaulted you, Joseph – put you in hospital. I get that you can’t tell me what he said, as much as that pisses me off, but there’s nothing to prevent you telling me what he looked like – how he walked, how he talked. You need to tell me what you know so I can help.’

  There was a dilemma etched on Joseph’s face. He had been physically assaulted, struck down in the safety of his own church. Why didn’t he want to help find the person who did it?

  Finally, he gave a sigh. ‘It was a man, about my height I suppose; nothing special about his accent. He was probably anywhere from thirty-five to forty-five if I had to guess. Nobody I knew.’

  Joseph wasn’t a huge man, but he was relatively tall and solid. For someone to knock him out, he would have to be taken by surprise, or physically overpowered. Something a man built like Corey Garsell would have little trouble doing.

  ‘Biggish guy though?’ Charlotte persisted. ‘Would you say muscly?’

  ‘Yeah, possibly I guess. Like I said, I didn’t get a great look at him.’

  Charlotte got off the desk and knelt in front of her brother. ‘I realise this is difficult for you, but for all we know, this guy might be the one responsible for the killings – murders you have been implicated in – so any tiny morsel of evidence you can give me could be his downfall. It’s like dominoes – if we knock the first one down, the others follow suit.’

  As soon as she spoke the words, Charlotte knew she had hit the nail on the head. Joseph began shuffling his hands, rubbing them together in his lap. The colour rose in his cheeks, and he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. She had grilled hardened criminals before, rapists and murderers – even they had obvious tells when they lied. By comparison, Joseph was putty in her hands.

  ‘Oh. My. God,’ she said, realisation dawning.

  ‘I’ve told you not to use that expression,’ Joseph said softly.

  ‘The guy who hit you,’ she continued, ignoring him. ‘It was him, wasn’t it? He told you he killed those women because he knows you can’t say anything. Holy shit, Joe.’

  His body went rigid, his face a dull, blank slate staring back at her.

  ‘Give me something, please,’ Charlotte implored him. These moments could make or break a case. ‘Listen, I’m not meant to tell you this, but we’ve looked into the alibis you provided and, to put it mildly, they aren’t ideal. While you told us the truth about where you were on the first two occasions, you neglected to tell us that you were alone for the last few hours of both evenings. Which means you had both the time and opportunity to commit both crimes. And on the night of the last murder, you were home by yourself, which isn’t a crime, but it makes it bloody hard for us to rule you out. If you want me to help you, you need to cooperate – before it’s too late.’

  Running shaking fingers across his skull, Joseph inhaled the electrified air, his chest expanding. He held the breath, as if challenging himself to make the decision he already knew he had to make. Then he let it out and shook his head. ‘You have all the details – there’s nothing more I can tell you. But Charlotte, it wasn’t me. I didn’t kill those women.’

  Charlotte snatched up her car keys from the desk and moved for the door, waving her hand over her shoulder.

  ‘Wait,’ Joseph said suddenly, and Charlotte stopped in the doorway and turned. ‘Father Alan Watson,’ he said quietly, his eyes downcast. ‘You might remember the name. Maybe turn that spotlight of yours onto him for a little while.’ Then he let out a groan and buried his face in his hands.

  ‘Thanks, Joe,’ Charlotte said softly, not wanting to push him any further.

  She made her way back out into the sunshine, climbed into the driver’s seat and gunned the engine. Accelerating out of the driveway, tiny ash-grey pebbles spraying up onto the underside of her vehicle with a spatter, she considered their conversation. Joseph had given her the impetus she needed to go forward, as much through what he didn’t say as what he did. Had his assailant really been the killer? Then there was this other priest – Father Alan Watson. What exactly did he have to do with this? The name rang a vague bell, but nothing more. And most importantly, if it really had been the killer who attacked Joe, it seemed he was now brazen enough to confront her brother, reveal his actions, and assault him, which meant one of two things.

  He was arrogant to the point of complacency, or he was mentally starting to unravel.

  Either way, her case was finally gaining some traction.

  Back in the office, positioned on all fours in front of the toilet, her chin almost resting on the porcelain rim, Charlotte felt the meagre remains of her stomach contents rise and fall, bile sloshing up the back of her throat. Perspiration rose all over her body, the surface of her skin prickling with moisture. She opened her streaming eyes. The bowl was splattered with vomit, the pungent odour in the small confines
of the cubicle almost making her gag again.

  Swallowing – and praying it was over – she felt the urge subside, though the aftertaste still burned in her mouth. She sat back on her heels, wiping the sweat from her eyes, feeling things settle slightly. Even though she’d had to deal with this regularly since starting treatment, throwing up was still throwing up. And it was bloody revolting.

  She eased herself up and leant against the cubicle wall for support, swallowing rapidly to keep things down for several minutes until the nausea lessened, and her jelly-legs solidified.

  After wiping stray hairs and dust from the knees of her pants, she flushed and bid good riddance to another batch. As she stepped out of the cubicle, she heard the entry door to the toilets clunk closed. Someone had just left.

  Shit.

  Checking her reflection in the mirror, Charlotte was confronted by the lack of colour in her face, her eyes sunken, wig askew. She looked as rotten as she felt. She cupped some water in her hands and splashed her cheeks, straightening herself up as best she could before heading back out into the office. Fortunately, only Wally was present, having a loud conversation on the phone with the victim of a burglary while he attacked an iced doughnut like his life depended on it.

  Approaching her desk, legs still quivering, she stopped, taken aback.

  Uh-oh.

  Dash was perched on her desk, clearly awaiting her return, his brow furrowed. Leaving the sanctity of his office was something he usually reserved for major events, both good and bad – and Charlotte knew there was no way she would be getting a pat on the back today.

  ‘You got a sec?’ he said, motioning for her to sit. She did so, gladly. ‘Anything you need to tell me?’ he asked, staring right through her.

  Panicking, Charlotte played innocent. ‘Ah … no? Want to give me a hint?’

  Dash coughed into his hand, his eyes still drilling into her. She half-expected bright-blue laser beams to dazzle a path between them. ‘You’ve been around for a while, Detective,’ he said, fingers steepled under his chin. ‘I shouldn’t be lecturing you on the department’s policies and procedures, should I?’