The Darkest Hour Read Free Page B

broom of Strike Force Gold having swept more than a few officers out of the job, clearing sufficient space in the various squads for fresh blood – including her and Murray – to step into temporary secondments, she knew that a poor report from the Team would see her shipped straight back to the suburbs. Even an average report, combined with an average performance during her secondment, could see her gone.
    What she needed was a great case. Something open and shut – something with clearly defined good and bad guys, strong solid witnesses, textbook evidence and a good hearty sentence at the end. Something she could get stuck into, proving that she did have skills, that she knew how to work a case and was worthy of a permanent spot.
    She stared at the phone.

TWO
     
    L auren caught the bus from the Coroner’s Court through the city to The Rocks and walked up the top end of George Street to the ambulance station. The roller door was up and her work partner, Joe Vandermeer, stood on the footpath talking to a group of tourists. Laughter rose as she neared them. Joe posed, smiling, by the ambulance and two of the group took pictures. They thanked him in Scottish accents before wandering off.
    Joe smiled at Lauren. ‘Look at you. New boots, new belt, new tie.’
    ‘Got to be spiffy on court day.’ She yanked the tie off.
    ‘How’d it go?’
    ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Got to change my shirt though.’
    ‘Court always makes me sweaty too.’ He followed her inside. ‘They sent a guy over from Randwick but he went home sick about half an hour ago,’ he said through the locker room door.
    Lauren threw her grimy shirt into her locker and pulled on a fresh crisp one. She did up the buttons, avoiding herself in the mirror. ‘Were you busy?’
    ‘Nah. Nothing interesting either.’
    She pushed open the door. ‘Good. I don’t want you running round doing fun things without me.’
    He grinned at her. ‘I told Control that. I said he had to hold the good stuff for this afternoon.’
    The phone rang. Joe lunged for it. ‘Rocks, Joe.’ He bent over a scrap of paper. ‘Okay, yep, gotcha. Ta.’ He put down the phone and gave Lauren a double thumbs up. ‘Man’s crying in Woolloomooloo.’
    ‘What man?’
    ‘Some man,’ he said. ‘I don’t know. The neighbour called it in, said she can hear this guy through the wall, crying.’
    ‘Call this good stuff?’ Lauren grabbed her bag and the keys and followed Joe to the ambulance. ‘They ever think to knock on the door, ask him if he’s okay?’
    ‘They call, we haul, that’s all.’ Joe got into the passenger side.
    ‘It’s crap.’ Lauren slammed her door. ‘Imagine this guy’s face when we turn up. I vote that after we talk to him, we talk to this neighbour.’
    She started the engine and drove out of the station. Joe hit the remote to close the roller door. Lauren turned on the lights and siren and pushed into the traffic on George Street.
    ‘I don’t know if it’s that urgent,’ Joe said.
    ‘They call it, I floor it, that’s all.’
    ‘That doesn’t rhyme,’ Joe said. ‘Are you okay?’
    ‘Because I can’t rhyme?’ She punched the horn to change the siren from wail to yelp as she approached a red light.
    ‘You’re all antsy.’ He looked out at the traffic. ‘Clear this side.’
    Lauren accelerated through. ‘Court.’
    ‘I know what you mean,’ he said. ‘Whenever I’m up there in that box I feel like I’m the one in trouble. I feel I have to be so careful with my words, that the lawyers are waiting for me to make a mistake and then they’ll get me.’ His hands seized and mock-strangled his own throat.
    ‘The families of the dead guy’s victims were there,’ Lauren said.
    ‘Oh.’ Joe dropped his hands. ‘You’re clear this side.’
    Lauren had watched the faces of the people in the courtroom as she described how she’d found Blake’s body. There was one woman, about the same age as Lauren, whose right eye twitched while Lauren