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CHAPTER ONE
LACEY GLARED AT the back of the two men standing in line in front of her. They were taking forever to order their coffees. Did these hipster guys always have to order the most complicated drink on the menu? She thought she heard the man with the impeccably trimmed beard asking for a caramel macchiato with half whole milk, half soy milk, topped up, double the froth, and no lid. What was wrong with a simple flat white? Or even a cappuccino?
Her stomach grumbled as she caught sight of the pastries displayed in the glass case to the side. Breakfast had been a long time ago. Her shift had started at eight am this morning and it was now nearing eleven. Maybe she’d get an almond croissant. She should probably get one for Linc too.
The little coffee van was often parked in this side street a block back from the beach in South Burnie, near to a small shopping center and a couple of office buildings. A vintage trailer, decked out in navy blue with cream highlights, they made the best coffee this side of Devonport. The barista, Conner, was getting to know her on sight as she and Linc visited the van whenever their duties allowed.
One of the hipsters glanced back at her and must’ve seen her dark-blue uniform, because he immediately flinched, then straightened and took a step away. She gave him a pleasant smile that she hoped made it seem like she was completely fine having to stand in line and wait while these buffoons ordered their stupid trendsetting drinks. Why did some people react as if they had just been caught killing the neighbor’s cat whenever they saw a police officer? Was it a good thing that her uniform instilled a certain wariness in people? She wasn’t sure. They must have a guilty conscience, she decided.
Out of the corner of her eye she spied a group of young boys on scooters hanging around near the curb a few feet away. They were looking at her with something akin to awe.Shit, not again. She turned her head, pretending not to notice them. But it was too late.
One of the boys—the leader of the little gang—broke away from the group and came toward her. “Hey, aren’t you the lady who jumped out of that car that went over the cliff?” His eyes were big and round. She sucked in a breath and tried not to roll her eyes, but the boy continued, “You’re like a superhero. Like Batman. Or Spider-Man.”
She sighed. Her death-defying leap had turned her into a small-town celebrity, much to her mortification. She just wished people would find something else to catch their interest. It’d been over six months since Gabriel DuPont had tried to kill her by driving her Kombi van over the cliff—with her inside it. And now all she wanted was to put that episode behind her and get on with life. But the faint scars still crisscrossing her body made it impossible to forget entirely. As did the constant questions from well-meaning citizens.
“How did you do it? Like, weren’t you scared and stuff?” the boy continued.
“Yeah. Weren’t you scared?” Another kid came closer, as if emboldened by his mate’s questions. The rest of the crew remained on the curb, but were all staring at her with interest. And now the hipsters had turned to look at her, speculation in the curve of their finely groomed mustaches. She turned to face the group of youths, plastering on her best grin and silently gritting her teeth. She’d told the story so many times at least she had it down pat and was now able to keep her face impassive, not giving away how memories of sailing over that cliff still haunted her at night. If it wasn’t for Nico and his strong arms wrapped around her in their bed, she might still be an emotional wreck. But his love, along with some intensive counseling, had helped her overcome the worst of it.
She opened her mouth to speak and was interrupted by a shout from a little way down the road.
“Lacey, we got a call.” Linc stood beside their police cruiser, waving an arm urgently in the air.
“Coming.” Lacey gave the coffee van one last longing look before jogging over to where the cruiser was parked. “Sorry, boys. I’ll tell you about it another time,” she said as she shot past them.
Her partner, Senior Constable Lincoln Jackson frowned as she slid into the passenger seat beside him, clearly as bummed as she was to be missing out on their morning coffee and croissant.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Someone has called in a suspected body. They were hiking along Emu River and found something in the water. We’re the closest unit,” Linc said in his now-familiar American accent. He liked to tell her it was a midwestern drawl, not like those southerners, whose vowels were so relaxed it took them five minutes just to say hello.
Linc Jackson was Senior Constable Tyrell Jackson’s nephew. He’d been lured over to Tasmania to take part in an active officer exchange from his hometown of Detroit in Michigan by Tyrell, who was nearing completion of his own stint in that same program.Interns in the program usually worked in the force for a while—Linc had been on active duty for nearly nine years already—and were often in line for a promotion. It was a way to compare and share policing styles, leadership, and training in other countries.
Tyrell had waxed lyrical to his nephew so much over the past two years that Linc had finally come to see what all the fuss was about, arriving in Tasmania around the same time as Lacey restarted her career with the Burnie police. Both Linc and Tyrell were part of a growing group of African-American recruits enlisting in the force in Detroit. Linc had never told her openly, but she understood intrinsically how hard it must be for him to deal with the levels of racial tension and inequality people of color encountered over there and she respected him for being part of the change in community perspectives.
She admired Linc, but she also liked him as a person. He was easygoing and down-to-earth, and she was glad she’d been partnered with him. Yes, he was a bit of a charmer, good-looking, with a white, toothy smile that contrasted starkly against his dark skin, and extremely broad shoulders that had all the girls’ heads turning. But once she’d made it clear she was madly in love with Nico and she would never be interested in him in that way, he’d become a great friend and an even better partner. Solid, dependable and with high moral standards. He could be a typical outgoing Yank who liked to joke around and annoy the shit out of her, but he could also be deadly serious when the situation called for it. This morning, he had his serious face on.
“Where are we headed?” Lacey asked, putting her professional mask back on. A suspected body was a serious thing. The most serious thing she’d had to contend with so far in her six months on the job. The most serious thing since she’d watched poor Rania Samaan die even as she tried to resuscitate her with CPR a little over seven months ago. She shook her head and pushed that memory back into its box. This might be Lacey’s first proper trial since starting active duty again. She hoped she was up to it. Hoped she was up to confronting a dead body again. Hoped she didn’t collapse in a heap at the sight.
“Platypus Reserve.” Linc cast her a sideways glance, the frown on his face letting her know that he understood how hard this might be for her. Lacey gritted her teeth. She was determined that she didn’t need his concern. Determined to show everyone that she could do this. She was a good cop and she could handle everything this job threw at her. She just had to keep telling herself that.
“Platypus Reserve, huh?” She plugged it into the GPS on the dash monitor and watched as a large green area showed up on the screen. “It’s less than ten minutes away,” she informed Linc, who was maneuvering the cruiser with skill through the suburban traffic of South Burnie, lights and sirens blasting to warn vehicles to get out of the way. Lacey was still getting to know this town and the surrounding area. There were so many gorgeous places with endearing names. Like Platypus Reserve and Emu River. It was a shame such a delightful sounding place was now marred by death. Or worse, murder.
Before long, they’d left suburbia behind, and the cruiser was winding its way up an asphalt road, tall trees crowding in on all sides. “Take this turnoff.” She directed Linc to take the road to the BBQ picnic area. They passed between two large trees painted blue, marking the entrance, and then the road took them down again into a valley where the Emu River had cut a path through the black earth millions of years ago.
Freshly mowed grass, green and lush, curved away from the road, soon replaced by thick bushland the farther down the road they traveled. Winding the window down, Lacey took a few seconds to acknowledge the country around them. Tasmania was an endless source of beautiful, natural wonders that could be found around almost every corner, and this place was no different. The reserve was an oasis on this warm day. Birdsong filled the air. Moss covered tree trunks lurked in the cooler shadows. And between glimpses of the river through the trees, she could see large tree ferns lining the edge of the river, their emerald-green fronds dipping into the water like a ballerina pointing her dainty toes.
“Do you think you can see platypus in this river?” Lacey asked, reading the sign at the edge of the road as they sped by.
“I guess so.” Linc shrugged, more intent on getting to the crime scene than thinking about the surrounding beauty.
She should take a leaf out of his book; this wasn’t a nature-appreciation field trip. Winding her window up, she focussed on the job ahead. The dirt road opened up into a large cleared area, with a parking lot down one end and what looked to be an amenities block and some tables and benches set up near a couple of free-to-use barbecues. A perfect spot for a family picnic. Three cars were in the lot, parked at right angles, and a young couple stood waiting beside one. Lacey silently catalogued the cars. If one belonged to the people who’d called in the body, then it meant there were other people still in the reserve somewhere. The guy had his arm firmly clasped around the woman, almost as if without his support she might fall to the ground. The woman’s face was deathly pale and streaked with tears, eyes red rimmed and so big they almost swallowed her dainty face.
Linc was out of the cruiser almost before he’d pulled on the handbrake. “Are you the ones who made the call?” he asked, striding toward them.
Lacey scurried to catch up, keeping one hand on her duty belt to stop it flopping around. A new belt had been ordered in for her, but head office were taking their sweet time dispatching it out to the rural precinct of Burnie. So for now, she had to put up with one that was a size too big for her and slung so low on her hips she looked more like one of those olden-day western gunslingers. Sometimes she cursed all the paraphernalia she needed to wear as an active police officer. It was heavy and unwieldy, especially the dark-blue vest slung over her collared shirt, but it was there to keep her safe and she knew she’d get used to it again sooner or later.
“Yes, sir,” the man replied, visibly shaking, but trying to pull himself together. “We were just walking the river trail when Penny saw something floating in the water. We thought it was an old jacket or some sort of clothing someone had thrown in the water. Until we got closer.” The young man blanched, a grimace of abhorrence pulling his lips down. “And then we saw her face,” he finished in a whisper.
