A Time to Run (8 page)

She stopped and faced the morning sun, already quite high in the sky. She had to squint and shield her eyes, but here was the start of a plan, and better than nothing. She would run directly towards the sun. That way she would have something to orient herself against and know she was going reasonably straight. If she found the sun in her eyes annoying, he probably would too when he came after her. It was a very minor advantage, but she would take whatever she could get. At least now she had a direction.

She set off due east, at a slow jog. She wanted to maintain an even tempo. She jogged for fun and fitness regularly and knew if she kept a steady pace, she would cover more ground in an hour. If she started running faster, she would wear out quickly and have to stop and walk until she caught her breath. She didn't know when she would need to turn and fight, and wanted to keep something in reserve. Without a doubt, that's what she would have to do when he caught up with her.

As she concentrated, her shakes subsided. It was rough terrain, but mostly flat. She tried to keep as straight a path as possible, paying no heed to the small twigs that snagged her clothing and scratched her bare arms and legs. She simply moved forward.

Sammi considered trying to cover her tracks. She looked behind her and although she couldn't really tell where she had been, a practised tracker probably would. They had their special tricks. It wasn't like she was knocking down bushes and snapping branches, but underfoot were dried leaves and branches that crackled with every step, no matter how careful she was. There was no way around that. The bushland was all trees and bushes, but mostly long grass and undergrowth.

But was she being hunted by a tracker? Was a barman from Brissy capable of following a track? The image of a bushman didn't quite fit with the soft, pallid smoker she had encountered behind the bar.

Then there was his dog. She would describe it as a pig dog, a mongrel bred to be tough and unyielding. It was certainly no sniffer dog. But could a dog like that pick up her scent and find her at close range? If she hid up a tree, would it be able to sniff her out? She thought some more about climbing a tree as she picked her way around a gully. A tree was probably the best place to hide, but if she was found, she would be stuck with no place to go, a sitting duck, literally. It would be a big risk – too big. She would stay on the ground.

Sammi had done a little martial arts training and a little wrestling at the academy. She had been in some scuffles on the job, had restrained and handcuffed men bigger than herself. There had always been someone to back her up though. She had always had a partner with her, had never been left hanging. More importantly, she always had her accoutrements – capsicum spray, handcuffs, baton, Taser and Glock.

Strip all that away and what she had left were a couple of fists and feet against a man with guns, knives and an attack dog. Panic was pointless. Keep moving forward.

Saturday 10:23 am

‘Jake?' Janine called through the office. ‘Where are you up to?'

Jake was at his desk, tapping and clicking at the computer. He might have been working but it was always possible that he was checking whether his pay had gone in or looking up who had been promoted. Janine had just got off the phone with Pam from intel. Pam had been helpful and accommodating, but it was still going to take at least an hour, possibly more, for Telstra to provide the results of the triangulation of Sammi's phone. The call records for the barman's phone would take even longer. Things usually moved slower on a weekend because there were fewer staff about, so they had to keep going with what they had while they waited.

‘Come have a look,' Jake replied, gesturing to his screen. Janine perched herself on the edge of a desk and looked over Jake's shoulder.

‘I'm just having a look at our barman, Don Black. He's a nasty piece of work,' Jake said.

‘What have you found?' Janine asked.

‘He's one sick puppy,' Jake replied. ‘There are two domestic violence orders against him. The first one was taken out by police on behalf of his mum. Neighbours rang triple-0 after they heard yelling and screaming, followed by a gunshot. Police turned up. The guy was still living with his mum at that stage. She wanted to kick him out and he just went mental. He shot her pet dog while it was sitting next to her. The mother was clearly terrified, but she changed her story to try to get him off the hook. She told police that the dog was sick and her son had done her a favour by shooting it, rather than having to take it to the vet and pay to have it put down. Once the mother turned and started lying for him, all the charges fell over and only a stock standard DV order went through. He did lose his weapons licence and his registered guns with the DV order. It looks like his mum ended up moving house without him.'

‘Holy crap,' Janine said, ‘this is just looking worse by the minute.'

‘There's more,' said Jake. ‘There was a second DV, taken out by a girlfriend. Another terrified woman. She turned up at a police station with his initials carved into her thigh. They were living out west at the time. They were superficial cuts, didn't need stitching, but she kept saying he told her he had guns hidden and repeatedly threatened to shoot her.'

‘Surely he was charged with assault or wounding for that?' Janine said.

‘Yeah, but again, it fell over. The girlfriend did a runner. She was a Kiwi and went back home. Refused to make any further contact with police after the first time she turned up at the station. Left the country four days after it happened, didn't provide a forwarding address. Without her evidence, all they had was a notebook statement. Forensics couldn't even contact her to get photos of the injuries before she left. A DV was put in place without her. But again, mandatory conditions only, and no charges were laid.'

‘So he's obviously a dangerous nutcase but everyone's been too scared to follow through,' Janine summarised.

‘Pretty much. This guy should be in jail. And these are only the cases we know about. How many women has he abused who didn't come forward? Or who disappeared?'

Jake now clicked open the previous missing persons report Black had been linked with. Janine peered over Jake's shoulder as he opened the different screens. The incident report with the modus operandi, the suspect screen, the victim details, then an old mugshot of the victim popped up.

‘Is that the missing hooker?' Janine asked.

Something about the photo caught her eye. She reached past Jake and took control of the mouse, clicking so the mugshot filled the screen. The woman looked ordinary enough. Blonde hair, framing a pale face, eyes slightly averted. And that's exactly what drew Janine's attention. It could have been an old school friend. A cashier at the local supermarket. Her sister.

‘I wonder how she ended up working on the streets. What a pity,' Janine said.

Jake shrugged. ‘Women usually become street hookers for a reason,' he said.

‘Yeah, I guess,' Janine conceded. ‘But nobody deserves to disappear without a trace.'

Jake clicked through the report screens. ‘Jim Dyson interviewed him. I know him. He took me out a few times in my first year. He's a good operator. I can give him a call if you like, see what he didn't put in the report, what his gut feeling was.'

The police network was a powerful and often under-utilised resource.

‘Good idea,' Janine said.

She grabbed Jake's phone receiver and handed it to him, to make sure he was clear she wanted it done straightaway.

Back at her desk, Janine flipped open her notebook and tried to organise her thoughts, and plan.

Jake was soon at her desk.

‘Jim had a really clear memory of the interview with this barman. Described him as cunning and smug. He said he looked shocked and a bit panicked when they turned up at his house to talk to him about it. He didn't realise the girl had texted through his rego. He denied it first off, then refused to talk to the police, saying he needed legal advice. By the time he came to the station for a formal interview, he had his story down pat. Jim said he caught him out in a couple of little lies but not enough to charge him with anything. They did phone traces and searched his house, but didn't turn anything up. He had admitted she was in the car, and they found her prints there, but he stuck with his story that he dropped her back off,' Jake said.

Janine nodded. ‘What was Jim's gut feeling?'

‘That he murdered her. But there was never going to be enough to prove it. She was a prostitute, and nobody cared enough to keep pushing the investigation along. They never found a body and the trail just went cold. She's still only listed as missing.'

With a growing sense of unease, Janine dialled the Operation Echo number. Janine had worked in major operation rooms before and the work was often tedious, with sometimes hundreds of pointless leads and information, often provided by the public, each of which had to be followed up.

Janine introduced herself to the officer who answered. ‘I just wanted to touch base with you guys. We have a young woman who has gone missing after a night out in the city. She's a police officer to boot. She's not been missing long, but it's starting to look like she's actually run into trouble, not just been waylaid somewhere.'

Janine gave him a quick rundown on the barman, where he worked, what he looked like, what car he drove and his history. Immediately after that, the other officer put her on hold.

‘Hi, Janine, is it? This is Bill Johns.' A different man was now on the phone. ‘They've just given me a rundown on your missing person. We've had hundreds of leads on Tahlia. One of them was that she was seen getting into a white ute with a bulbar and an oversized canopy on the back. So can you get down here and give my team a briefing. We'll see if there's anything else we can match up, if we can move forward together on this.'

With one phone call, there were four more detectives working on the case.

Saturday 10:34 am

There was a lot of talking going on behind closed doors at the station and Gavin didn't like it one bit. They were keeping him in the dark. The conversations that mattered were happening in the sergeant's office, while Gavin spoke with Bob in the dayroom. Bob was running through what seemed like an endless and pointless list of questions in order to complete the missing persons report.

‘Who is her mobile phone provider?' Bob asked.

‘Um, Telstra,' Gavin answered.

‘And who's her dentist?' Bob asked.

‘Johannes in Mill Street,' Gavin replied.

‘Has she been to see him recently?'

‘No. Why?' Gavin asked.

‘Just in case we need to get dental records,' Bob answered, keeping his eyes down on the pro-forma of questions.

‘What are her bank account details?' came the next question.

‘Sammi's with the Commonwealth Bank. Are you going to check for withdrawals or something?' he asked, getting more frustrated by the minute.

‘It's just a standard procedure,' Bob answered.

‘I can show them to you right now. She hasn't run off,' Gavin said sharply.

‘No one's saying that. If she had her card with her and it's been stolen, anyone might have it,' Bob explained.

Gavin exhaled loudly. ‘What have they found out? Why are you taking my report all of a sudden? You were the one who told me to wait and said she'd turn up.'

‘I can understand this is difficult for you, but we have to do this one step at a time. I need all the details you can possibly think of. We don't know what information might turn out to be useful,' he explained.

‘It's pissing me off that you're not telling me . . .' Gavin stopped suddenly as the thought struck him. ‘Am I a suspect?' he asked, staring Bob down.

Bob met his eyes. ‘No. You're not a suspect. You were home all night. We all know that.'

He spoke quietly and evenly. Gavin was a powder keg, waiting for any excuse to explode.

‘I'm trying to help you,' Bob said. ‘I know it's frustrating. You want to get out there and do something. Well, this is the most important thing you can do at the moment – give us all the details.'

Gavin stared at the floor. ‘What have they found out?' There was a note of pleading in his voice.

‘Not much,' Bob answered, ‘but they need this report on before they can order a trace to try to track her phone.'

Gavin blinked hard several times. ‘OK. What was the last question?' he asked.

Saturday 10:50 am

Janine and Jake strode into the major incident room with a sense of purpose. Four heads swivelled in their direction. The day shift for Op Echo gathered around and introductions were made. Bill Johns was the ranking officer, a detective senior sergeant.

Janine took charge and quickly ran through the facts. Sammi was a copper. She had failed to show up for work, her car was still at her friend's house in Brisbane, she couldn't be reached by phone, she had left the bar alone. The barman had left work early, about the same time as her, he had a history of DV and had been questioned in relation to another missing person. The barmaid had seen a blonde woman get into the barman's ute.

She then detailed the enquiries she had made so far. She passed around the barman's mugshot from when he was at the watchhouse. He looked normal enough, his dark hair cut short and the beard cropped close. In the watchhouse photo he was looking past the camera over the photographer's shoulder with a hint of a smile.

Then Bill took over.

‘Vanessa,' he said, handing the mugshot to a young officer on his left, ‘start going back through the Crime Stoppers files. See if any descriptions match this bloke. Also, find the file with the witness who saw Tahlia getting into a ute. Get back onto them and ask more questions, anything they may have thought of since they first called.'

Jake took one look at Vanessa and, as he pulled a spare chair up next to her, Janine saw his dimpled smile. He loved being somewhere different with new people. But just because he was enjoying his job didn't mean he would be helpful. He was too easily distracted when it came to members of the opposite sex.

Bill turned back to Janine. ‘Have you done anything with this barman? Have you tried to call him, or go past his house?'

Janine shook her head. ‘I wanted to get everything I could on him before I went round there.'

‘Call him,' Bill directed. ‘Do it, just to see if someone answers. If he answers, just pretend you're trying to sell him something. It will work better with a woman's voice. Try his home number, then the mobile. Do it from my office where you won't have any background noise,' he said.

They both knew the phone number was blocked if the barman had a caller ID display. It was better to pretend she was someone else than to just hang up if he answered. If he was nervous or paranoid, this might put him on alert.

Janine nodded slowly as she started to formulate what she might say in case the barman answered.

Bill shook his head. ‘Don't sweat it. I'll put money on it that no one answers.'

‘You're probably right, but I don't like to be caught out,' Janine said.

She walked to Bill's office and sat in his chair, still thinking. If she said she was collecting money for a charity, he'd probably hang up straightaway. But that's all they wanted, just to hear if he answered the phone.

Her heart started to beat faster and her scalp prickled as she dialled the number and the phone started to ring. After six rings, it went to message bank and she confirmed she had the right number, then hung up before the beep. His mobile rang too, and just kept ringing. She hung up after seven rings and went out to the main room.

‘No answer?' Bill asked, and she nodded her reply.

‘Take a look,' he gestured to a computer screen, where he was peering over Vanessa's shoulder.

Janine saw the Google Earth picture of the house with the phone number she had just dialled.

‘He's got a dog,' Bill said, pointing at a dog house in the untidy backyard. There was a heavy fenceline separating it from other houses around it.

‘See if we know anything about the neighbours,' Bill directed Vanessa. She started clicking and tapping, the aerial view of the house disappearing behind another screen.

‘Have you got enough for a search warrant?' Bill asked.

Janine shook her head. ‘I don't think so. All we've got so far is a girl running late for work, not answering her phone. I'm waiting on the results of the phone triangulation. That may help. Also, CCTV from the pub might show us something. We should be able to confirm exactly what time she left. We'll also be able to see if she walked out alone. I don't know how far out the front of the pub the footage extends. If we're lucky, it might go as far as the road.'