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A few minutes later, they were both seated at the small kitchen table, and Lacey sank her teeth into a rock cake. They were still warm from the oven, and she got a burst of sweetness as she bit into a sultana. Rock cakes were no longer fashionable, but she was glad Margie kept up her grandmother’s tradition because they were delicious. She was also glad for the soothing babble of Margie’s chatter as she sipped her tea; it helped to remind her that her life wasn’t really falling apart, and normality was a good thing.
“What’s wrong, luv? You’re looking a bit peaky today.” Margie pierced her with her knowing gaze over the top of her mug.
“What?” Lacey nearly spat out her tea. She thought she’d been doing a good job of keeping her face free from all her inner turmoil. How had Margie unerringly known something was wrong? As if she were a bloodhound on an emotional trail of discovery. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just a little tired. Overworked, you know.”
Margie studied her for a few more seconds. “If you say so, dear. But I can see it in your eyes. You’re sad about something. Did you and you Nico have a fight? You don’t have to tell me, of course. But sometimes talking something out can help.” The older woman’s features softened, and she reached out and patted the back of Lacey’s hand.
Her touch set off a chord deep inside Lacey. It was the affectionate touch of a grandmother, something Lacey sorely lacked in her life. Margie truly cared about her welfare, and Lacey really wanted to confide in her. She needed another woman’s advice. Some maternal guidance. Which she would never get from her own mother. Both her grandparents on her mother’s side were long gone—killed in a tragic bus crash while on a tourist trip to Italy. It was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime, to celebrate her grandfather’s retirement. Lacey had only been three or four at the time and hardly remembered them. And her grandmother on her father’s side, Betty, was in an aged care home suffering from early-onset dementia, and had been afflicted for as long as Lacey could remember. Betty’s husband, Frank, had been killed in the Vietnam War, before Lacey was even born. So she had no true grandparents to rely on.
Lacey drew in a deep breath. “You’re a hard woman to fool, Margie. You should’ve been a cop, you know,” she said with a forced laugh. “Yes, Nico and I did have a disagreement.” Actually, now she thought about it, this was their first really big argument. They’d had quarrels about small things, like whose turn it was to clean the bathroom, and Lacey would snap at him when he continuously tried to backseat drive when she was in charge of the vehicle. But otherwise, they agreed on the big things. And they had no need to quarrel over finances, because Lacey had her trust fund which made her financially independent.
Should she tell Margie what was going on? For a second, she almost blurted it all out. About the tall, dark seductress who’d once been married to Nico. But although Margie was well-meaning, she was also renowned as the town gossip, and the last thing either she or Nico needed was people talking about them behind their backs, discussing Nico’s past, and dissecting her reaction to it. So she held her tongue.
Instead, she decided on some misdirection. “But we’ll sort it out. We always do. I think it’s partly to do with how much we’re both on edge after those two bodies were found.”
“Oh, yes.” Margie’s eyes lit up with delight, taking the bait, just as Lacey knew she would. “I watched that sexy Chief Inspector on the news this morning.” Lacey nearly choked on her rock cake. She had never thought of Shadbolt as sexy before. She guessed he probably was good looking, if you liked that gruff, solidly built, silver-fox type. But Margie went on before she could comment. “He said they’d identified the first victim. That poor wee girl. But you’re still no closer to identifying the second one. Imagine that. Two bodies. I can hardly believe we have another murderer in our midst. Does it mean we have a serial killer?” Her birdlike eyes fixed on Lacey.
“It’s too early to tell,” Lacey said. She knew when she opened this can of worms that she’d have to be careful about what she said. But it was preferable to having to talk about her private life, because these questions, she knew how to handle. “We need to determine cause of death for both the girls. And try and find any links between the two.”
“So you still don’t know how they died?” Margie had placed her mug of tea on the table, staring at Lacey intently.
Lacey shook her head. “We’re still waiting for the results of the autopsy.” These were all details she knew she was free to share. It was only the intimate details of the murders and finding clues about the killer that she had to keep secret.
“Gosh.” Margie sighed dramatically. “It makes me think about poor Rania. Takes me back to that day, you know, when I found her. At least it was obvious how she died.” Margie gave a small hiccupping sob.
Now it was Lacey’s turn to be the one to give out comfort, and she patted Margie’s hand. “I know,” she said soothingly. “It must be hard for you and Herb. Maybe you shouldn’t watch the news if it’s going to upset you.”
“Oh, no, I’ll always watch the news. I think it’s important to know what’s going on around us.” Margie sat up straighter. “We need to stay informed. As a community and as individuals. And we rely on you, our police force to give us the facts we need to stay safe. So, are you going to tell me? Is it a serial killer?”
Lacey sighed and wondered how she was going to escape from the canny older woman’s clutches.
* * *
Lacey took her now customary seat at the back of the operations room. Nico had called a surprise second briefing just as she’d walked down the hallway to her office ready to start her shift. She lifted an inquisitive eyebrow in Tyrell’s direction, but he merely shrugged and took the seat next to her. Lacey was yet to catch up on what this morning’s briefing had revealed. She’d like to know how the interview with Zoya’s mother had gone. Had she revealed anything important about her daughter’s life? Did they have an updated list of any enemies, friends, and relatives they should be looking at? Or was anything found at Zoya’s apartment that might help in the case? She jiggled her foot in agitation, wanting to get this over with so she could get herself up to speed on the case.
She glanced over at Tyrell sitting next to her. It was good to have the senior constable back at work—soon-to-be sergeant if the rumors were to be believed. Linc was doing so much better, so he’d finally left his nephew’s bedside, happy to leave him in the hands of his mother, who’d arrived last night, and the capable nurses.
Lacey had made a quick stop at the hospital on the way into town and was surprised and pleased to see Linc sitting up in bed looking for all the world like he was back to his normal charming self. He must be feeling better, because he was even chatting up a nurse as Lacey entered the room. The nurse flushed beetroot red when Lacey coughed to make her presence known and excused herself on the flimsy pretext of suddenly hearing another patient calling her.
Lacey had stood at the end of his hospital bed and beamed at her partner, so happy to see him recovering well.
“How’s it going, Shorty?” She’d winced at the nickname, but for once didn’t take umbrage.
“Not bad,” she’d replied, hoping Linc didn’t have the same uncanny ability as Margie to draw out the fact she was actually not doing fine. The worry that she and Nico might be on some severely rocky ground had been eating away at her guts all morning. Even after Margie’s visit, she still had no clear answer.
But he’d only asked her about the investigation, moaning that Tyrell wouldn’t tell him anything because he was trying to protect him from himself. Linc made a rude sound at that, and Lacey had chewed her bottom lip wondering how much trouble she was going to get in if she accidentally told him something Tyrell deemed unnecessary.
Happily, right on cue, Linc’s mother had appeared. A statuesque woman, with a mass of dark hair piled elegantly on top of her head in a large bun, wearing a black dress that hugged her voluptuous figure. She looked nothing like a frazzled mother who’d flown halfway across the world to be at her injured son’s bedside that Lacey had been expecting. Linc’s mother introduced herself as Syl, shaking Lacey’s hand with a strong grip, and telling her that Linc was one lucky man to have her as a police partner. She could see where Linc got his charm from. She’d left the two of them arguing affably about whether he should be chatting up that particular redheaded nurse.
“Sorry,” Nico bustled through the door juggling his laptop, Sally-Ann close on his heels, and the buzz of conversation quietened. “I know we already had a meeting this morning, but I just got some news back from autopsy, and I thought you might like to hear this.” Nico’s gaze settled on Lacey for a short second before he turned to face the whiteboard. It wasn’t long enough for her to read his face and decipher exactly what he was thinking. It was normal for him to keep his feelings hidden in their everyday work environment. But this was different. Usually, even when he had his detective face on, she could glean some of what was going on in Nico’s head. Not today. The walls were up higher than she’d ever seen. Higher perhaps than even back on the first day they’d met. Which scared her.
Just then, the other two detectives hurried in, and quietly slid into the two chairs next to Lacey.
Nico acknowledged them with the nod before saying, “Autopsy has come back with cause of death for the first victim, Zoya Kibel.” He stopped talking until he had everyone’s undivided attention. “Just as we thought, she was hung by the neck until she asphyxiated.” The silence was deafening as everyone digested this news. It was crystal clear what the ligature marks around the girl’s neck meant. Ligature marks didn’t always indicate someone had been strung up; sometimes victims were tied up by the neck, like a dog, to keep them constrained. But it was a suspicion that’d been floating around in all of their minds. It was a horrible way to die, because it often took long minutes for the victim to lose consciousness. Nico held up his hand to forestall any questions. “Dr. Lagos is still working on the second body, and he won’t commit to a formal written document yet, but it seems likely the second woman also died the same way.”
Almost without realizing it, Lacey leaned forward in her chair. This was the connection they’d been looking for. The link between the two women. The first decent bit of information that could help them solve the crime. And this link also possibly pointed to a serial killer. Although usually you needed up to three bodies before they could be classified as serial murders. It could be as simple as someone with a vendetta against these two girls. Not some crazy criminal out to murder half the female population of Burnie.
Everyone in the room looked at Nico with the same intense gaze, and Lacey knew they were all wondering the same thing. Could these murders be part of the state-wide manhunt that was currently being carried out for a suspected serial killer? Cause of death for all three victims in the other cases were all strangulation. And on the surface, both strangulation and hanging might look similar. But she knew both methods of murder were completely different. Strangulation was much more intimate; it required physical contact and was often done face-to-face. Lacey hadn’t had much to do with the serial killer case. That was Nico’s department; he was liaising with detectives from Hobart. But there’d been no more victims over the past six months, and the case had gone cold. Perhaps the serial killer had changed his modus operandi slightly. There were all sorts of reasons why he might do this. She wondered if Nico was going to reference them now.
