Page 15 of Bound By Truth (An Island Bound Novel)

CHAPTER SIX

REED STARED OUT the window, contemplating the blue sky. It was Friday morning and he was on duty, manning the station on his own, while the Sarge and Olivia were at the other end of the island, looking into a sheep-stealing charge. Eric said he was going somewhere called Emu Bay to check out a truck for roadworthiness. Something to do with Don’s local traffic initiative to make people more aware of the hazards surrounding unroadworthy vehicles. Especially on these gravel tracks the islanders liked to call roads.

Reed was enjoying the solitude. It gave him time to mull over his first week of working on the island. The pace of life was so different out here. People popped in to have a chat with Don about the weather and the price of fresh fruit. They worried about smaller things. There were hardly any major crimes worth mentioning, the last murder on KI had been five years ago. A spate of sheep-stealing was probably the highlight of Don’s day. But Reed didn’t mind. It was what he was looking for, a way to reconnect with life and people. To destress and get away from the constant strain and demands of a large-city police station. To get away from the unceasing calls for help from domestic violence victims. The growing scourge of drugs—methamphetamines to be precise—where users had to be salvaged from overdosing in the streets, or arrested when they became violent and unmanageable. Of having to pull dead or injured people out of smashed cars driven by a drunk driver. He’d seen humanity at its worst, and sometimes it exhausted his soul.

He’d also encountered personal things in life that’d drained him dry. Grief and despair which hollowed him out, left him an empty shell.

Like losing his unborn son. And then Penny.

Penny. He hadn’t thought about her in a while now. The idea surprised him. He and Penny had met when he first moved to Ballarat, just after he graduated from the police academy. They were both young and foolish, twenty-one and invincible. He’d loved Penny’s enthusiasm to try everything, do everything, experience everything. She even embraced their surprise pregnancy with verve and optimism. But by then, they never really had a choice. They’d gotten engaged at the age of twenty-two. He’d loved Penny, loved that they had a whole future ahead of them, bright and full of promise, and he’d quickly grown used to the idea he was going to be a father.

Then Penny had gone into early labor at seven-and-a-half months. They’d lost the baby, and Penny never recovered. God knows, Reed had tried to bring her back from the dark place she fell into. But her misery and depression were too massive, and she was determined to destroy herself using any and every drug available.

Penny died of a drug overdose almost a year to the day after their son. Reed suspected the overdose hadn’t been an accident, but no one dared bring the subject up near him.

He’d had two relationships since then, each lasting over a year, but when the women started to talk marriage, he’d run far and fast. There hadn’t been anyone special for a while. When Carla had stormed out of his apartment nearly two years ago, she’d accused him of having a heart of stone. That he was emotionally unavailable, and only wanted women for one thing, casual sex. She was wrong on the second count, but he couldn’t argue about the first. Commitment wasn’t for him.

Love was too hard. Life had taught him a valuable lesson. If you let yourself love someone, then all you were doing was opening yourself up for them to hurt you or leave you. Or die. Love wasn’t worth it.

His thoughts returned back to his first day on the job, and he wondered how Sierra was getting on after the break-in. She seemed like a person who also liked her own company, didn’t tend to want to invite others in. As they were leaving her house after the break-in, he’d asked her if she needed help cleaning up the place. Offered to come back and help her fix anything that might’ve been broken. But she shook her head and politely declined. Was it a habit of hers, denying she needed help? Keeping herself apart, separate from everyone.

They were no closer to catching the perp. He’d managed to find a spare half-hour yesterday to take a good look at the letter from her stalker. But whoever sent it either knew what they were doing, or had a whole lot of dumb luck on their side. Because there was nothing Reed could find that gave anything away. No prints, no fibers. The letter was typed, not handwritten, and the postmark showed it’d been redirected through the main business precinct of Adelaide, so it could’ve come from anywhere in the state. Or even outside the state.

He’d been a tad disappointed he hadn’t run into her this week. Perhaps she just hadn’t needed to come into the main townsite. Much as he hated to admit it, he kept half an eye peeled for her tall, slim figure as he walked down the main street of Kingscote. It would’ve been nice to see that little quirk she had, where her mouth twitched up in one corner as she smiled. And those full, pouting lips that made him want to trace a finger over them, to see if they were as soft and inviting as they looked.

She certainly was an intriguing lady. He’d managed to find a copy of her newspaper reports online. The ones that’d gained her a stalker, as well as winning her an award. Her series had been an eyeopener, and certainly not very complimentary towards the Port Pirie police in particular, and the South Australian police force in general. He could see why some people might take offense. Especially the policemen and women involved in the initial search for the girls.

A thought occurred to him, and he tapped his finger against his chin trying to corral his thoughts. It was highly unlikely. But the more he thought about it, the more the idea grew on him.

Could Sierra’s stalker possibly be a disgruntled police officer?

He wondered if the cops investigating the original letters had ever taken this line of questioning. It might pay for him to see if he could dig into the records. He remembered both the abduction cases; it was just before he moved to Adelaide. The media storm had certainly ignited more than a few heated conversations within the community all over Australia.

He thought back to her reports, trying to recall some of the details. Sierra had accused the Port Pirie police station of having a reputation for not solving crimes. Citing a list of unsolved, violent crimes dating back over ten years. She’d looked into police clearance rates at the Port Pirie station, when someone was charged for a major crime such as homicide, assault, sexual assault, and the reporting rates were abysmally low for that particular station. Her research had many people asking questions. Why was this so? Did the police need more training? Did they just not care? It started accusations flying that the Officer-in-Charge of Yorke Mid-North Local Service Area, Superintendent Shawn Dennison wasn’t training his officers properly.

When the first child, Emily, a six-year-old girl, was abducted from her front yard, a person of interest had been brought in and interviewed, but never charged. He lived on the street where Emily went missing and was a registered sex offender, and always remained the prime suspect. The guy flatly denied he was guilty. Said he’d been rehabilitated, stuck to his parole regulations, and was now a model citizen.

Sierra also uncovered the fact that interviews weren’t conducted with neighbors and other community members in the vital twenty-four-hour period after she went missing. It seemed there was a mix-up in communication, and the two police teams originally assigned to the case both thought the other team had already done the interviews. Then afterwards, the Senior Sergeant in charge of the Port Pirie station was accused of letting his ego get in the way of the investigation, by dragging his feet and not bowing to the Superintendent’s orders to hand over paperwork to other investigators from other stations who’d stepped in to help.

The police defended themselves, stating that thousands of calls had come in regarding the missing girl, some people even claiming they had little Emily and she was safe and well and living happily with them. There were just too many leads for the authorities to follow up, and they’d become bogged down in all the paperwork and chasing false clues.

The second girl, Naomi, was abducted eleven months later on her way home from the park. She’d been a few years older than Emily. Everyone wanted to link the two abductions, including Sierra, but there was no evidence to do so. The two crimes were vastly different, as were the ages of the children, and the police wouldn’t say the crimes were connected. Neither of the girls had ever been found, no bodies discovered, and no convictions were made. It was a dead case. A cold case.

Reed stood up and stretched his hands above his head. Sierra sure had stirred up a hornet’s nest in regard to police bungling, that was for sure. Even though he was a cop himself, he had to respect the depth of her research, and her terrier-like determination to find the truth. He could see why she’d been awarded the journalistic prize.

Reed had been tempted to look further into Sierra’s life. Perhaps even Google her to see if he could find out more about this mysterious accident she was supposedly involved in. But he’d run out of time, and a small part of him thought it was being too invasive. Just because you could find out information about a person, because it was all there on the internet if you wanted to look, did that mean you should?

His leg gave a twinge, and he gave it a shake and took a lap around the room to loosen it up. He’d been sitting too long. And the cold made it ache. Why the hell hadn’t he moved to some nice, warm, tropical town up north, instead? He should see if there was a good physiotherapist on the island, that always helped to loosen the tight, scarred muscles. Even a good masseuse would do the trick.

Reed checked the clock on the wall above reception. It was nearly ten. Was it too early for a cup of coffee and a biscuit? He turned to head towards the kitchen, when the phone on the desk shrilled loudly into the quiet building.

“Kingscote police, Officer Reed Kapua, how can I help you?” Reed said, as he picked up the receiver.

“Oh, thank God someone’s there,” a male voice said loudly on the other end of the line. “Look, it’s Mal, from Luxury Rentals over in Penneshaw. We’ve got a little bit of a situation here.” The man sounded panicked and was breathing heavily.

“Okay, sir. Calm down and tell me what’s happened.” Reed picked up a pen and started writing on the call sheet.

“We’ve got a family staying in one of our rental properties, and one of their little girls has gone missing.” The hairs on the back of Reed’s neck stood up. “The father called me this morning, we’ve been searching for her for over two hours now. We all just thought she’d wandered off and she’d be easy to find. Her older sister said she kept talking about wanting to see the big, furry, kangaroos again. And we thought she’d headed up to the open bushland at the end of the road to see them. But now…I think we need professional help.” The man stopped, almost out of breath from his fast-talking explanation.

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