The Delta Chain (12 page)

‘I didn’t say that.’

Kate brightened. ‘You do think it’s worth investigating further?’

‘I don’t think there’s any harm in looking over design plans or in asking the security guy about the security breach.’

‘What about the break-in at her apartment?’

‘I attended that crime scene. Nothing out of the ordinary as far as burglaries go.’

‘Did you find fingerprints?’

Adam smiled. ‘Professional thieves tend to wear gloves, Kate. We checked, of course, but nothing useful.’

Kate shrugged, her face reddening. ‘Okay, okay, naïve comment, but I’m not exactly a hardened detective like you.’

‘Hardened?’

She leaned in toward him, gave his nose a friendly tweak. ‘Yes, hardened.’ She grinned. Both were grateful for the lightening of the moment. ‘You look incredibly tired, and I know I am. We should both get an early night.’

‘Agreed. I have an early start. On the road by six AM.’

‘On the road?’

‘I’m driving into Brisbane with Brian Markham, visiting a Dr. Sukumoto at the University.’ Briefly, he sketched in details of the “mermaid” case and the facial reconstruction work. ‘Then, I’m dropping in at the Department of Meteorology on related business.’ He didn’t explain about the coastal charts he was accessing.

‘Then I guess you’d better be going.’

‘I guess I’d better.’

They shared a long, lingering kiss at the front door, neither wanting the moment or the evening to end…

A kiss that goes on longer than at first expected. Kate’s mouth exploring his with a sudden urgency. She realised she was starting to hate these moments when they parted.

Adam’s body responded to the kiss and to the scent of her skin.

‘I thought you were going.’

‘I am.’

‘Wish you didn’t have to…’

‘Same here.’

‘But you’re tired…’

‘Yeah. Early, early start.’ His mouth pressed hard against hers again, tiredness swept away, hidden energy drawn out by the surge of passion.

She pulled him back inside the apartment, pushing the door closed.

‘What’s this?’

‘While we’re still kissing, I like privacy. Old fashioned that way.’

He held her close and she allowed her body to mould with the contours of his.

‘Actually I feel a little guilty,’ she said, coming up for air. ‘You came over here tired and all frustrated about that sergeant guy, needing to relax. And I hit you with my work problems and this Rhonda theory thing of mine.’

‘Well, the kiss makes up for it, consider the slate wiped clean.’ Their lips met again, a long, slow kiss, mouths exploring still deeper, hands roaming now in a natural rhythm of light caresses over each other’s bodies.

‘And I thought you were going.’

‘I am.’

‘I thought you were tired-’

‘Was
tired.’ His hand moved inside her blouse. Soft strokes.

‘Now you’re getting sexy,’ she whispered, breaths coming in short bursts, heart drumming like a percussive instrument come alive. She moaned, a dry, throaty sound, her fingers unbuttoning his shirt as he deftly manoeuvred her blouse up and over her head. Clothes were shed swiftly and easily as they shifted toward the bedroom, the tensions of the day finally left far behind, tomorrow’s expectations temporarily out of mind.

Later they lay, limbs entwined, sated in the afterglow. ‘You know,’ Kate said, ‘that night we met…our first date…’

‘Yes?’

‘This is shameful, admitting this.’ She flashed a cheeky grin. ‘I particularly wanted to date you because you were a cop.’

‘So this is all because I’m some kind of authority figure?’

‘No. Of course not. Once we got together, hit it off the way we did…it was just at first, the night you came to the Institute, we flirted a bit, and I thought that…’ She threw her head back and laughed. ‘I
cannot
believe I’m telling you this.’

‘You already said that.’

‘No I didn’t.’

‘Well, something like that…shameful admitting…’

‘Anyway, no matter what I thought, I’m glad we got together.’

‘You’d like me even if I wasn’t a cop?’

‘Now you’re getting the gist of it.’

‘I like it when you…when you’re open like this.’

‘I’m being too honest.’

‘Actually I’m finding it incredibly sexy.’

‘Trust
a policeman to think honesty is sexy.’

‘Hey, no policeman jokes. Don’t we have an agreement or something on that?’

Her lips brushed his, hair falling across her face. ‘Guess what, Mr. Authority Figure, Little Miss Honest is getting very horny again…’

Detective Superintendent Ron O’Malley strode from the lift and into the reception area of Brisbane Police HQ, and shook hands firmly with Adam and Markham. O’Malley had a solid build and the look of an ex-fighter – a broken nose and steely hair cropped short.

‘Welcome to the big smoke, gentlemen.’ O’Malley’s slight brogue gave him the air of a mischievous Irish imp. ‘Neck’s not too sore then?’

‘Our necks?’

‘From cranin’ to look at the skyscrapers.’ O’Malley laughed heartily. ‘Sorry, can’t resist the redneck jokes.’

‘We’re getting too many skyscrapers of our own in Northern Rocks,’ Markham said, returning the smile.

‘Well, tourist town, isn’t it? If you’re doing well then sooner or later the developers move in with big bucks and big earthmovers. Once they start circling, they’re like vultures.’ O’Malley led them to the lifts, and then to his spacious but cluttered office on the second floor. ‘So tell me, Adam, is Arthur Kirby giving you a hard time up there?’

Adam cocked his eyebrows in surprise. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ O’Malley lowered his bulky frame into his chair. ‘Because he always has, that’s his way. With you younger guys especially.’

‘Why’s that?’

O’Malley shrugged. ‘I’ve bumped into Arthur on and off over the years. He’s been stationed at a few precincts, this one among them. Good cop, runs a clean, smart department. But I happen to know that in his earlier days he had a hankering to be a detective. Trouble is, he never made the grade and remained instead, an excellent senior sergeant. Nothing wrong with that but I think the older he got, the harder his attitude toward the young detectives on the force. Then, a few years back his wife upped and left him for a young bloke.’

‘A detective?” Markham guessed.

‘You got it.’

‘You’re kidding,’ said Adam.

‘Not at all. Anyway, I heard from around town this didn’t exactly help that attitude thing.’

‘It must have been soon after, that he came to Northern Rocks,’ Markham said.

‘He wanted to make a fresh start,’ said O’Malley, ‘but I don’t expect he’ll start getting all buddy/buddy with our detectives any time soon.’

‘He hasn’t,’ Adam confirmed.

‘Well, here’s hoping the sea air makes a difference. Kirby can be difficult, but he’s a bloody good operator.’ O’Malley changed the subject with an easy, natural shift of internal gears. ‘I gather you two have brought yourselves up to date with our mermaid.’

‘Yes. And we appreciate you making the time to see us,’ Adam said.

O’Malley waved the comment aside. ‘No probs. In fact, I’m glad you’re here.’ Adam and Markham had settled into the guest chairs.

‘Let me bring you up to full speed,’ O’Malley said. ‘It’s been four months since our Jane Doe was fished out of the water in Morrissey. It’s as though she dropped right out of the sky. It’s been known to happen with much older human remains but it’s practically unheard of with a teen, or someone who’s been in the water a short time. At that age, parents, teachers, boyfriends, someone must know she’s missing. But apparently no one does.’

‘And the facial reconstruction?’ asked Adam.

‘It’s expensive, difficult, time consuming work. But with the amount of time that’s passed, no leads, and the artist’s sketch failing to ignite any interest, it’s one of the few avenues left. I know you wanted to visit the anatomist while you were in town, which works in well as I’m due out there for an update.’

On the way, O’Malley explained that the reconstruction work took about a month. Their visit was timely as this was the end of the fourth week. ‘As I said earlier I’m glad you’re here,’ O’Malley repeated as he drove into the grounds of the university. Leafy, landscaped recreational areas dotted the compound of stately buildings, the architecture reflecting an earlier age. ‘Your Northern Rocks mystery girl has come at a critical time, so I’m glad your phone call brought it to my attention. Otherwise, given that your case is only a few days old, the similarities might not have been as obvious for a while yet.’

‘You said a critical time?’ Markham’s attention had been drawn away from the grounds outside the car window.

‘Yes. I’ve just been looking into another case, two months ago on the New South Wales mid-coast. Another drowning victim, a young man of approximately nineteen – naked, no ID, but initially thought to be an English backpacker out here on vacation who’d been reported missing.’

‘But he wasn’t,’ Adam guessed.

‘No. Three weeks after the body was found, the backpacker actually turned up. He’d been in W.A., didn’t bother telling anyone he’d taken off on a four week stint as a jackeroo on an isolated property. So our New South Wales John Doe was back to square one, with no-one knowing who he was or where he’s from. I wondered about the chance of a connection with the Morrissey Mermaid case. I just got back yesterday from visiting the scene and discussing it with the local detective down there. And then you phoned up, Adam, with your Northern Rocks floater.’

‘Two might’ve been a coincidence,’ Markham said, ‘but not three.’

‘You wouldn’t be in town if you thought even two was coincidence,’ O’Malley said. ‘Me, I don’t believe in coincidence, never have, not where unnecessary death and unidentified bodies are concerned.’

‘What do the two State Coroners think?’ asked Adam.

‘They haven’t got a damn clue.’

The receptionist for the Anatomy and Histology department took Adam, Markham and O’Malley through a maze of white walled corridors. They were led into the neatly arranged laboratory of Dr. Mira Sukomoto. She was a petite woman, elfin faced and dark haired. Her large, brown, expressive eyes immediately struck Adam as the eyes of a soulful artist rather than those of a clinical anatomist. Having received an advance call from O’Malley, Mira was expecting them and they were led straight away to the workbench. Here, the simulated reconstruction of the Mermaid’s face, hair and skull sat like an eerie sculpture.

‘It must take enormous patience to recreate someone’s appearance like this,’ Adam said.

Mira responded with an appreciative smile. ‘And then some. Especially when reconstructing a face from skeletal remains. In a situation like this, I begin by duplicating the skull in silicon so that it’s an almost exact replica, and I’m talking about an accuracy rate that needs to be between 99 and 100 percent. Once that’s achieved I begin placing simulations of all the facial muscles onto the skull, along with glands, skin and hair. From which I make a cast of epoxy resin.’

‘And we end up with a reasonable likeness that someone may have a chance of recognising,’ O’Malley added.

Mira placed her hands on the facial cast. ‘A subject like Angelina, with skull and many features damaged but still intact, makes my task easier and the likeness much closer.’

‘Angelina?’

Mira smiled at Adam. ‘I detest this term, the Mermaid. This was once a living, breathing human being, a very vibrant young woman. I call her Angelina, because it’s a beautiful, feminine name, and because she had the gorgeous face of an angel, don’t you think?’

The three men muttered their agreement.

Adam walked around the bench, examining the cast from different angles. The detail in the sculpture was extraordinary. Looking again at Mira’s eyes, Adam realised there was as much artistry and sensitivity in her work as there was science.

‘I was just taking photos of the cast. It helps me put my work into a kind of visual perspective, before making final adjustments. Perhaps a digital print would be of use to the detective?’ Mira glanced at O’Malley for his approval.

‘That’s fine,’ he said.

‘So now there are others like this one?’ Mira watched as Adam placed the print in his wallet.

‘It appears that way, Mira,’ said O’Malley.

‘So sad,’ the anatomist’s voice was a whisper, and Adam sensed this brilliant young woman had developed a true empathy for the girl she’d named Angelina, ‘that no one seems to have known or cared about one so beautiful.’

‘Someone knew her and cared for her,’ O’Malley said. ‘It isn’t possible to go through sixteen, seventeen years, grow up, without anyone knowing you and missing you.’

O’Malley was right, of course, thought Adam. But the simple fact was no one had come forward to identify or report missing either Angelina or the other two, more recent cases. Even if they’d been runaways then at some stage they would have been reported missing.

Who were they?

On the way back, O’Malley stressed that he wanted to keep in close contact with Adam and Markham. If, in another week, the Northern Rocks girl hadn’t been identified through Adam’s efforts, then O’Malley wanted to take the investigation fully under his wing, along with “Angelina” and the N.S.W. John Doe. ‘Once I’m certain there are enough probable links between the three, I want to set up a task force,’ he explained.

Such an investigation would be larger than anything Adam had been involved in. ‘If the ID traces still fail to turn anything up, then where else do we go with something like this?’

‘There’s all kinds of intangibles we can start tracking,’ O’Malley said. ‘Maybe these three knew each other, went to school together. We can look for abandoned cars in each of the areas they were found, and source the owners. We can show the pictures of all three to motel/hotel workers in each of the three areas.’ O’Malley’s passion for solving the mystery was evident. ‘The first initiative will be to consider lines of enquiry taken on any similar cases.’