Munro Family: The Investigator Part 27

With another groan, she threw off the bedcovers and headed toward the shower. She needed to get herself presentable, just in case police officers arrived on her doorstep with questions.

Fear germinated in the pit of her belly at the thought of them executing the search warrant and what they might find in Darryl's house. Would they find the videos she was now almost certain her mother had? Could she bear the thought of the entire police department being witness to her degradation? On the other hand, if they didn't find them, could she bear the thought of Darryl going free?

That's what it came down to. She couldn't have it both ways. Either she remained silent and let the evidence of his pedophilia go unreported and unpunished, or she accepted that in order to see him punished, she had to expose him, and herself in the process?

She didn't have a choice. For ten years, she'd thought the best course of action, the one that would cause her the least amount of pain, was to bury her past in the darkest of places and pretend it had never happened. In return, she'd sacrificed the last decade with her mother. The ache of that loss would stay with her forever.

After returning to Watervale and meeting Riley, she realized she was stronger than she'd thought. Somewhere between the expensive therapy she'd received in London and the arrival back in her hometown, she'd empowered herself to face her demons head-on.

Seeing Darryl punished for his role was a vital part of the process. She realized she'd never truly heal and be able to put it all behind her until she'd acknowledged what he'd done, confronted it and seen the perpetrators brought to justice.

And then, maybe, just maybe, she could move on with her life-a life she hoped would include Riley.

She turned off the faucets in the shower and frowned. Was she being fanciful? Would a man like Riley really want to be part of her life? She'd bared her soul to him and he'd seemed to accept the nightmare of her past, but what if things were different in the cold, harsh light of day, when who she was and what had happened to her became real, something to be faced and dealt with-even at arm's length?

Reaching for a fluffy bath towel, she dried herself off. There was no point wondering and trying to second guess how Riley might or might not feel. She'd just have to see him, talk to him, ask him straight out if it mattered.

And she'd do that, just as soon as she found the courage.

Wandering into the other room, she dropped the towel onto the bed and opened the closet. Both pairs of her woolen pants were at the dry cleaners down the street. Her remaining clothes were limited to a couple of pairs of jeans and three long-sleeved blouses.

With no other choice, she tugged on a pair of jeans and teamed it with a white thermal undershirt and pale pink blouse. A dark-gray cashmere cardigan completed the ensemble.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and grimaced at the slight puffiness around her eyes. Her extended crying jag had left its mark and there was nothing she could do about it now.

Brushing her hair into a semblance of order, she pulled it back into a simple ponytail and swiped a generous amount of pink lip gloss across her lips. Not exactly high-end fashion, but it would have to do.

Her stomach growled and she was reminded of how long it had been since she'd eaten a decent meal. Not since the day before, when she'd eaten tea cake with Daisy. She glanced at the clock. Eight forty-five. The cafe on the corner might still be serving breakfast, or at least a decent cup of coffee.

Coming to a decision, she packed up her laptop and collected her handbag. She could always deter curious onlookers by immersing herself in her work. Besides, she hadn't checked her emails since yesterday afternoon. Collecting her jacket on the way out, she pulled the door closed behind her.

Kate glanced around the charming cafe with its clean white tablecloths and modern decor. Most of the dozen or so tables were occupied with other diners who chatted noisily among themselves.

Several paintings of local scenery adorned the walls. She moved closer to examine them with a critical eye and was excited by the knowledge they'd been painted by an artist with incredible apt.i.tude. It would be worth making enquires. She was always on the lookout for new talent.

After jotting down the artist's name, she took a seat at an empty table and picked up the menu. A waiter approached her with a dubious look on his face and hesitantly took her order. She wondered at his curious reaction.

The noise and hum of conversation slowly faded. Kate glanced around her, wondering about the cause of the silence around her. The other diners averted their gazes.

Her eyes widened in sudden comprehension and her heart thudded. Maybe she'd been wrong about going out in public? She a.s.sumed Darryl and Hannaford had been arrested. The whole town was likely buzzing with it. It was probably what had been the topic of conversation before she'd entered the cafe.

Her appet.i.te vanished and her shoulders slumped and with it, her courage. Did she really want to put herself under so much scrutiny this early in the proceedings?

Quickly collecting her handbag and laptop, she stood and headed for the door. It was cowardly, but at that moment, it was all she could manage.

Riley gathered the team of officers around him and explained the contents of the search warrant. His eyes stung from a lack of sleep and the bite in the frosty air, but he forged on, wanting nothing more than to put this day behind him.

With renewed determination, he put his shoulder to the front door of No.16 Baxter Road and shoved hard. The wooden boards creaked beneath his ear, but didn't give. When Riley and his men had attended the address the night before, Watson had met them on the front step. Riley had placed him under arrest and had cuffed him. It was now obvious Darryl had deadlocked the door on his way out. He sure as h.e.l.l hadn't wanted to make this easy.

Two senior officers from IA had arrived from Sydney on the early Grafton plane and had taken over the investigation. Unsure who they could trust among the local police, they'd seconded four detectives from the nearby town of Lismore. Reynolds and Riley had brought them up to speed. The IA officers were keen to see the search warrant executed.

"Come on, Riley. Put your back into it."

He grimaced at Chase who stood behind him. With all his strength, he rammed the door again. The old wood groaned in protest and splintered around the lock.

"One more time, mate and I think you'll have it."

Riley threw him a dark look and Chase smiled with wide-eyed innocence. Taking a step backwards, Riley once again hit the door hard with his shoulder and took satisfaction from the sound of it tearing through. He halted inside the foyer and looked around.

The place was much as it had been on his first visit. The countertops were sparkling and the floor tiles were spotless. This time, though, the caustic smell of bleach permeated the air.

His lips compressed in anger.

Darryl had known they were coming.

His gut churned with anger and disgust, but there was nothing he could do about it. They'd never prove someone had tipped the former commander off. They'd just have to hope Darryl had forgotten something or had gotten sloppy in his haste.

"What are we looking for?" Chase asked, following Riley into the open-plan kitchen and living room.

"I'm not sure. Anything that looks out of place. Anything that might tell us what happened to Rosemary Watson." His gaze scanned the coffee table, which was still free from debris, except for the glossy magazines and holiday brochure.

His anger ratcheted up another notch. Darryl was laughing at him. He turned to Chase.

"I want you to look through everything, books, videos, DVDs, everything. And get one of those blokes from Lismore to go through the trash."

Chase grinned. "They're going to love that."

"Just do it. I'm going to take a look upstairs."

Riley took the stairs two at a time, his heart accelerating with every step that brought him closer to the top. Knowing Kate's old room was only a few feet away, increased the dread that weighed him down. The thought of what she'd endured in it sickened him and he wondered again how she'd managed to find her way into the light.

Donning a pair of gloves, he opened the first door he came to and found himself in a bathroom.

The tension in his gut eased and he drew in a breath. Dust and grime had collected in and around the basin and along the top of the toilet. Dead bugs littered the floor. An old tube of toothpaste sat dried and forgotten in a cup. A single pink toothbrush stood beside it.

His chest tightened. It must have been Kate's. He couldn't see Darryl using a pink toothbrush. Besides, the bathroom looked like it hadn't been used in years.

Swiping an old, faded shower curtain to one side, he peered into the cubicle. A rust-colored water stain tarnished the once-white ceramic. A piece of soap sat on a ledge, cracked and dry. He didn't know where Darryl showered, but it definitely wasn't in here.

Riley stepped out into the hall and moved to the next door. He turned the k.n.o.b and walked inside. His pulse rate spiked.

Her room still had posters of almost-forgotten pop stars and movie idols littering the walls. The pale pink paint had faded a little, but the room looked like she'd been there yesterday.

The bed was neatly made, covered with a pink-and-white striped bedspread. The matching pillowcase was filled with a single pillow. An old white wicker chair stood in one corner, laden with a medley of soft toys. The innocence of the picture shredded his heart.

He walked over to the closet and opened a door. His heart clenched at the sight of the clothes still hanging there, as if time stood still and the teenaged Kate would reappear any minute.

She'd told him she'd packed a bag in the middle of the night and left. There would have been no room for a closet full of clothes, or a chair full of sentimentality. He ached for the little girl she'd once been. The one who had collected the rabbits, the teddy bears and the dolls. The one who had pored over the pages of Popstar, Girls' Life and Teen Vogue and had hung posters of movie stars on her walls.

He thought of Darryl and anger scorched his nerve endings. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d had stolen more than her innocence-he'd stolen a portion of her life.

"Find anything?"

Riley spun around. Chase strode into the room.

"No, but it doesn't look like anyone's been up here for a long time. How'd you do downstairs?"

"The usual junk in the ensuite. Toothbrushes, shaving cream. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Riley frowned. "Toothbrushes? As in, more than one?"

Chase nodded slowly. "Yeah, there are two, actually. A red and a blue. Both standing in the same cup on the vanity."

Excitement spread through him. "Bag them. We'll need to check for DNA, but I'm betting one of them belongs to Rosemary."

"Surely he wouldn't be that stupid? One of the first things anyone packs is their toothbrush."

Riley thought of the solitary toothbrush in the bathroom next door. "Not necessarily. It can be overlooked, especially if there's a rush to leave. But it's worth checking out. If it is Rosemary's, it's another piece of evidence in our case against Darryl that suggests she never left here by choice."

"No worries. I'll get the boys onto it."

"You didn't happen to find a wheelchair? That would be kind of hard for anyone to forget, no matter what kind of rush they were in."

Chase winced and shook his head. "Sorry, mate. I can't help you there."

"Yeah. I guess it was too much to hope Darryl could be that stupid."

"So, what's next?"

Riley followed him out into the hall. "I'll go through the rest of the rooms up here. You and the others can check the backyard. How did things go with the trash cans?"

Chase shook his head. "No luck, I'm afraid. The ones in the house have fresh liners. The two outside were emptied this morning. They're still out on the street."

Frustration soared through him and he bit down on a curse. "So, apart from the toothbrush, we've got s.h.i.t."

Chase threw him a look of silent understanding. Riley shouldered his way past him and continued down the hall.

CHAPTER 28.

Kate's heart jumped at the sound of someone at the door. Her head told her it couldn't be Darryl or even Hannaford, but she was wary as she pulled back an inch of curtain and got a good look at her visitor.

Riley lifted his hand in a half-wave.

"Hey, there. Sorry to startle you. I should have called. It's been a s.h.i.t of a day and it's not even lunchtime."

Kate struggled with the lock and chain and opened the door. Stepping aside, she let him into the room and closed it behind him.

Turning, she watched him pace the room, and recognized the disappointment etched into the taut lines of his face.

"I take it you didn't find anything?"

"No, nothing of much use. Darryl had cleaned the place out." His lips twisted. "He wasn't joking when he bragged about the friends he still had on the force."

"I guess I should be relieved you didn't find my mother." She said it quietly, barely maintaining her composure.

He was beside her in an instant. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I should have thought. I didn't realize you thought her body might be there." He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident.

"There was nothing out of place. Nothing unusual. Nothing we could point to and say, something's wrong about this."

"So, what did you find? You said you found nothing of much use. I take it you found something?"

"Yeah, a toothbrush. Well, three, actually. Two were in the downstairs bathroom. One of them was upstairs. We're hoping one of them might be your mother's."

Hope leaped inside her. "Surely that proves she didn't leave? No one leaves without their toothbrush."

His gaze captured hers, dark and compelling. "You did."

She gasped, a.s.sailed by decade-old memories. "H-how did you know?"

"It's still there, in a cup on the sink in your bathroom."

Remembered fear and anger and hurt swirled inside her. The thought of her toothbrush-forgotten in her haste to leave because she'd been unwilling to switch on a light-standing as silent witness for more than ten years, tore something loose inside her.

"Oh, G.o.d... Oh, G.o.d." Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. She shook her head from side to side and tried to erase the painful memories.

Riley drew her into his arms and soothed her with murmured words against her hair. His hand, firm and warm, gave comfort as it stroked up and down her back.

She breathed deeply and tried to use her awareness of him to block out the harrowing recollections: Her fear of discovery as she'd crept through the house; the mind-numbing chill of the winter air as she'd eased open the back door; the certainty she would never be back-along with the uncertainty of the future that lay before her; the knowledge that she was forfeiting the presence of her mother in her life and accepting the guilt and the pain that came with that... And all of it as she jogged her way to freedom on sneakered feet Her arms tightened around Riley's lean waist. He wore another suit, this one charcoal-gray, and the tailored cut fit him to perfection. The soft cotton of his freshly laundered shirt felt good against her cheek and she filled her nostrils with the scent of his maleness.

Heat from his chest warmed her through her blouse. She moved against him and her nipples contracted with the friction. Her heart pounded, this time from antic.i.p.ation as she lifted her head and captured his gaze.

He stared back at her, his eyes dark with need. His ragged breathing matched the rhythm of hers. She slid her palms up his chest, taking strength from the feel of his heartbeat beneath her fingers.

Standing on tip toe, she kissed him softly, tentatively, a feather-light caress of her lips. He stood still, the tension in his shoulders belying the flare of desire that ignited in the depths of his eyes.

He wanted her. Even after all she'd told him, he still wanted her. The realization weakened her knees and flooded her heart with joy. She clung to him, savoring the knowledge and the wonderment of it, hardly daring to believe it. And then, with a voice that was husky with emotion, he confirmed it.