Chapter 31

With Lincoln’s case finalised and parked, awaiting trial in February, Reed was able to dedicate more time to his growing list of other case files.

His monthly, Monday morning update with his boss was well underway. The updates were informal, to say the least. Reed reclined in his desk chair, with his crossed feet on his desk. His boss, Detective Senior Sergeant, Alan Merritt, perched himself on the side of Reed’s desk.

Each sipped on a coffee as they discussed Reed’s caseload. There was rarely any down time for the detectives of Cumberland. Reed’s case list included an aggravated burglary, a kidnap and rape, two armed robberies, one carjacking and a serious assault, where the victim remained in a coma, on life support.

And these were just Reed’s cases. His seven detective colleagues would have comparable caseloads.

When his desk phone began warbling, Reed leaned forward to read the caller display. It was an external number. He dropped his feet to the floor and gestured to the phone. ‘Let me just grab this…’ he said to Alan.

Alan nodded his approval at the interruption. He extended a “go ahead” hand to Reed.

The caller was Betty Hebdo, the administration manager from McKillop House. She was following up on the search warrant Reed previously served on her, for court ordered information relating to Lincoln Berenger and Walter McCormack.

‘I was doing my monthly filing and I came across the search warrant you executed on me all those months ago…’

’That was your copy, Betty, for you to do with what you please…’

’Yes, I understood that to be the case. But, when I happened to glance at the warrant, I realised that all the information I gave you was for all records relating to Lincoln Berenger and Walter McCormack…’

‘That’s correct…That is what you located for me…’

’Actually… It wasn’t. The search parameters I provided looked for records that contained both names… That is… Lincoln Berenger AND Walter McCormack, on the same document.’

‘I see…’ He wondered where this was heading.

’When I re-read the conditions on your search warrant, it actually specified all records for Lincoln Berenger, and, all records for Walter McCormack… separately, not specifically together on the same document.’

‘Are you telling me you have other records that weren’t provided at our meeting?’

‘I am. I corrected the search parameters to include documents where Lincoln and Walter were recorded individually, not together, which was what I gave to you.’

Reed rubbed a hand across his mouth. His confused eyes met Alan’s curious glance. Reed shook a confused head. ‘OK… So… Do you think there is anything there that would interest me?’

‘I can’t answer that. I’m sending you an email with all the records that I have since located, which I should’ve given to you on the day, but due to the wrong search parameters…I failed to.’

‘Are there many new records…?’

‘There are, actually…’ Betty Said.

Reed rolled his eyes. He was not interested in these records from Betty. His case was already water tight and awaiting trial. He had his man and doubted whatever Betty sent him, would add anything further to his already strong case.

Betty continued. ‘I have attached them in a Pee Dee Eff file. There are one hundred and twenty pages of records for you to look at, if you are interested.’

I’m not fucken interested, is what he thought. But what he actually said was, ‘thank you for your help, Betty. I’ll have a look at those later, and I’ll get back to you if I have any questions. OK…’

When he ended the call, he shook his head at Alan, who curiously looked on. As he dropped the handset into its cradle, his email tone pinged. He checked his computer screen. Betty’s email had arrived.

‘What the fuck was all that about…?’ Alan began. ‘You had that same bored, disinterested look on your face that I have, when my wife drags me around on her clothes shopping expeditions…’

Reed waved a hand. ‘It’s nothing… Just over zealous pedant of an admin manager, with information in the Berenger case…’

‘Isn’t that case at trial…?’

‘Yep. There won’ be anything in it.’

When his Monthly update concluded, Alan returned to his office and Reed returned to his case work.

When Reed accessed his emails, the email from Betty sat atop of his inbox, bolded in black, to remind him it was unread. He shook a reluctant head, then opened the email.

‘Let’s see what you’ve got, Betty…’

In the body of the email Betty mentioned that the documents she had sent were separated into two sections – the documents numbered one to one hundred and ten related to Walter McCormack files and the documents numbered one hundred and eleven to one hundred and twenty related to Lincoln Berenger.

‘One hundred and twenty documents… You’re fucken dreamin’ Betty…’ Reed mumbled to himself. He opened the attached Pdf and quickly scrolled down through the first set of documents.

Although he only passed a cursory glance at each page, nothing jumped out at him. By the time he reached page thirty-eight of the documents, it was all same-same and frankly, quite monotonous.

None was relevant to his investigation. He had decided to call it, when a letter on page thirty-nine caught his eye.

Reed paused to read the letter. ‘What the fuck…’ He frowned as he sat back in his chair. He rubbed a hand across his mouth. To any observer, Reed appeared to be in a trance.

But like a duck swimming on a pond, all the hard work was happening underneath, and in Reed’s case, in his mind. His brain worked overtime, quickly sorting through his memories and recollections from the Berenger case.

Reed pushed himself up from his chair and grabbed his box of documents for the Berenger case from the storage compactus and dumped it on his desk. He stood over the box as he flicked off the lid and began to walk his fingers through the hundreds of pages.

He lifted Drew North’s statement; a multi-page document, and began to flick through the pages. By the time he reached the last page, his frown lines had deepened.

It was as he remembered. Drew North attested in his statement that he knew Lincoln Berenger as a friend from School, from around grade three.

They remained good friends until the end of year twelve.

Nowhere in Drew’s statement did he mention he was a resident at McKillop House. But the document at Page thirty-nine was a copy of a letter from the then manager of McKillop House, Mark English.

The letter was dated eighteen years ago and related to a complaint Drew North, as a resident ten-year old at McKillop House, made against McCormack, for what was worded as, “inappropriate touching” of him, by McCormack.

Just like Lincoln’s case, English found these allegations to be unsubstantiated and no action was taken against McCormack.

The pit of Reed’s stomach felt heavy. This discovery deeply concerned the detective. The fact North withheld this information raised several questions.

Was Drew North complicit in the murders of McCormack and English? Could North have been an accomplice…?

He now learned that both Drew North and Berenger were residents at McKillop House at the same time. Information now suggested they both had been sexually assaulted by McCormack. Both made a complaint to English and both complaints went nowhere.

All evidence Reed located in his investigation pointed to Berenger as the proverbial, ‘lone gunman’—the sole offender in both murders.

There was nothing in all the evidence to tie North into the crimes, in any way. Was this by design…? Could the conclusive evidence implicating Berenger have been too neat and tidy, in its discovery…? Was Berenger set up by Drew?

What always troubled Reed was how Berenger genuinely did not seem to remember Mark English, even after Berenger supposedly planned and then murdered English.

Up until now, Reed put Berenger’s lack of memory to an uncooperative murder suspect. But now, he was not so certain.

At this point, Reed suspected the most likely scenario, given they were both sexually abused by McCormack at McKillop House, was that both were involved.

Drew North was most likely a co-offender, maybe the brains, and Lincoln did the dirty work.

He was now entering dangerous waters. To suspect a fellow cop of any crime, let alone double murder, without conclusive evidence to confirm his suspicions, was a slippery slope.

His entire investigation into the McCormack-English murders had suddenly breathed new life. One offender sat awaiting trial, but now he needed to be certain, there was not a co-offender walking free.

He needed to investigate Drew North further, but it had to be done covertly, and on a need-to-know basis.

If he was wrong in his suspicions, or accusations, it would likely be a career-ending move.

Chapter 32

Reed was stunned. Where would he begin to try and link Drew North into the crimes? Every bit of evidence pointed directly to Berenger, and Berenger only. Either Drew was too clever, or Berenger was alone and simply too careless.

While Reed sat in deep contemplation, a female uniform cop approached Reed’s desk. She placed the daily crime reports on his desk. ‘Delivery for ya Reed-O,’ she said then walked away.

Reed’s eyes fell to the pile of crime reports. Each report was prepared by the uniform patrol cops when they attended a reported crime.

Those records were later checked over by the morning shift detectives—in this case, Reed, and where necessary, investigated further.

When he noticed the pile of crime reports, his eyebrows plunged deep into his face. His contemplative eyes then lifted to the roof, as his mind worked overtime, trying to recall something about crime reports that triggered his memory.

Reed pushed himself up from his seat and moved to the library of lever arch folders. Each folder stored the year-to-date, historical crime reports, sorted by offences.

He ran his eyes along the library until he found the lever arch folder he searched for. He returned and dumped the folder on the desk, then walked his fingers through the filed records.

Being a person with an acute attention to detail, Reed was one of those people, often referred to as, ‘the grammar police’, when it came to the written word.

Any spelling mistakes other cops made in reports, jumped out from the page at him and he voiced his, often unwelcomed, criticism. He had a low tolerance for poor spelling and grammar in official reports.

A particular pet hate was when people, especially cops he worked with, used U.S. spelling of Australian words, such as neighbor, instead of neighbour, color instead of colour.

Seeing those crime reports on his desk, triggered a memory of such a report that previously had little significance, until now.

When he located the report, he removed it from the folder. He ran his eyes over it, he shook a slow head at what he read.

He lifted his eyes to the detective bull pen. It was empty, except for one colleague seated over near the exit. ‘Hey Brownie…’ Reed yelled to the colleague. ’How do ya spell “Paedophile…?”

Brownie’s eyes remained fixed on his computer monitor. ‘Google it, if you’re unsure.’ His tone resonated disinterest.

’I know how to spell it… I’m asking if you do.’

‘What are wanting… The U.S. version, or the Aussie version?’

Reed’s face tightened. He frowned. ‘The U.S. vers—. Why the fuck would I want the U.S. version? This is Australia…’

‘Ah… OK. Paedophile…. Ahh… P-A-E… Ahh, D-O… P-H-I-L-E…’

Reed nodded. ‘Good. Thanks.’ He needed reassurance the wrong spelling by cops was the exception, not the norm. His eyes dropped back to the report in his hand. It was a crime report from five months ago from when the morning patrol attended a complaint at the Cumberland foreshore toilet block.

The report indicated a suspected paedophile had been seen hanging around a children’s playground and toilet block.

Reed remembered this report because the author, Drew North, incorrectly spelled Paedophile as “Pedophile”, which as it now turned out, was the same way it was written in blood on McCormack’s wall.

At the time Reed first received this report, it annoyed him because the U.S. spelling had been used. Now the report worried him, because Drew North had used the U.S. spelling of Paedophile.

Was this on its own conclusive evidence…? Absolutely not. But when combined with his latest revelations, it was cause for further concern as to whether North was directly involved in the murder of McCormack and he wrote that message on the wall.

Reed fell back in his chair. His face tightened in contemplation. His theory had holes. For Drew North to write the word “PEDOPHILE” on McCormack’s wall, he had to be in the house at the time of the murder.

Problem was, the video footage he had located, showed only one person entered and exited McCormack’s home on the night of the murder, and that was Berenger.

Maybe Berenger and North were cut from the same cloth. Maybe they both used U.S spelling over Australian spelling and it was Berenger who scrawled the word in blood. Either way, his concerns over Drew North had escalated.

---

Reed wandered into the Police I.T and Technology Department. The Technician, whom he’d earlier spoken to on the telephone, met him as he stepped inside the door way.

He held out his hand to Reed. ‘You got the warrant, there…’ he asked Reed. Reed handed over the search warrant.

With his concerns over Drew North skyrocketing, Reed needed to establish whether Drew was at, or near, any of the murder crime scenes. Was he waiting nearby, while Berenger did the deed on the people they both had history with?

His first thoughts were to access the GPS in Drew’s phone, similar to what I.T. did for Berenger. Problem was, he didn’t have access to Drew’s mobile phone.

All he had was Drew’s mobile phone number, which he found in Berenger’s mobile phone contact list.

Not to be deterred, Reed called Police I.T. to find out if they could trace a mobile number, without physically holding the phone. He learned they could, through triangulation of nearby cell towers. The information was held by the Telco companies.

Reed sourced the necessary search warrant for the relevant Telco providers, to access their data and records relating to Drew’s phone number, then made his way to I.T.

The I.T. Tech glanced at the warrant. He frowned. ‘McCormack and English murders…’ His confused eyes lifted to Reed. ‘Didn’t we locate the GPS data for your crook in this matter…?’

‘We did…’ Reed had to think quickly. He could not disclose the fact he was investigating a fellow colleague: not at this stage of the investigation.

He had to satisfy the technician that his efforts in contacting the Telco were worth his time. ‘You’re right…’ Reed began. ‘But… I’m covering my bases here… If the defence successfully challenged the admissibility of the mobile phone evidence, we’d lose it all and our case would fall over…’

‘Would they challenge it, though…?’

‘This is a murder trial… They’ll try every trick in the book to get their client off.’ The Tech nodded his understanding, as Reed continued. ‘So… to make sure we can still place our crook at the scene, the next best thing, as I understand it, is triangulation of the cell towers…’

‘Correct…’ The tech glanced at the warrant. ‘OK. Everything I need is on here. Leave it with me and I’ll get back to you when I have something for you.’

---

Reed’s entire investigation had been turned on its head. He’d gone from the satisfaction of having his crook successfully committed to stand trial, to now wondering if he’d missed an accomplice, or worse, had the wrong man.

He decided to re-visit all the evidence he had against Berenger. He needed to reassure he hadn’t missed anything obvious, during his focus on gathering evidence against Berenger, that would’ve implicated Drew North, as well.

He trawled the records with a fine-tooth comb, looking for anything that even minutely pointed to Drew North in the murders. But try as he may, there was nothing hidden in his trial evidence.

As it currently stood, he had nothing on North and he was not about to risk his career by disclosing his unconfirmed suspicions.

He needed more than North’s coincidental spelling of “Pedophile” on police records, or his recent discovery that North was not only a resident of McKillop House, but like Berenger, was also abused by McCormack, during his time there.

While it suggested motive for North, all evidence still pointed to Berenger, as the killer.

Reed needed to clear his head. Coffee time, he thought. He pushed himself up from his chair and made his way to his favourite café, around the corner. He would re-visit his case later, with what he hoped would be fresher eyes.

The time to sit on his own at the café however, only caused his mind to wonder even more. Was North involved, or was he merely jumping at shadows?

Even though he had nothing that would implicate North, his experienced and ever reliable gut, told him otherwise. He couldn’t let go of it. He knew North was involved, but to what extent?

Reed stared blankly out to space while the cogs of his brain churned. He failed to notice the I.T. Tech wander into the café and begin to approach the order counter. The Tech did a typical double take when he saw Reed seated over in the corner, on his own.

He navigated the various tables as he made his way across to Reed’s table. Although an observant cop, Reed was so distracted in his thoughts, he never saw the Tech approaching, until the Tech spoke first.

‘There you are…’ The Tech said.

Reed’s trance-like focus moved to the approaching Tech. ‘Hey…’ Reed lifted his chin to the Tech.

The Tech slid into a chair at Reed’s table. He dusted some crumbs from the table then leaned on his elbows. ‘I’ve been trying to find you…’ he began.

Reed checked his watch. ‘I’ve only been here fifteen minutes… but all’s good. What have you got…?’

‘I’ve received the triangulation results back from the Telco, you asked for, yesterday.’ The tech jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. ‘It’s all back at my desk…’

‘OK. Great. Anything of interest for me?’

‘Yep. Your back-up plan confirmed the GPS data we previously obtained. So, your evidence against your crook is safe. If they manage to throw out the GPS data, the triangulation still placed your crook at the McCormack murder scene, and within one kilometre of the English murder scene, at the date and time of each murder…’

‘One kilometre…?’ Reed frowned. ’Is that close enough from an evidence aspect, to place him at the scene…?’

‘Absolutely. Out bush the cell towers are more spread. That was the closest tower to English’s address. But his mobile phone pinged all the way out there, on the other towers.’

The triangulation data placed Drew North at both murder scenes. Reed had his answer; North was involved.

Chapter 33

The coffee break only served to complicate thoughts, rather than clearing Reed’s head. The one constant he kept going back to was, GPS data and triangulation data placed both Berenger and North at both murder scenes.

But it was only Berenger who had the blood splatter from McCormack, on his clothing. It was only Berenger’s shoe print left in the blood at the scene. It was only Berenger who was identified in video footage, entering and exiting McCormack’s house, at the time of the murder.

So, if North was present, as the data proved, where was he? Was he the cockatoo, while Berenger committed the murders?

Reed’s criminal investigative experience taught him that the evidence told the story of a crime. But for some reason, unbeknown to him at this point, this one was different. Something about the evidence in these murders didn’t fit, the way it should.

He returned to his case file and began rummaging through the box. Reed’s evidence against Berenger, for the English murder, was circumstantial.

It relied on the Uber app that showed Berenger caught an Uber to English’s address and back again, on the night of English’s murder.

It stood to reason that both Berenger and North must have caught the Uber to English’s house that night, if their mobile phone data showed they were both there, at the time of English’s murder.

He continued to walk his fingers through the files. He removed his handwritten notes from the box and slid back into his chair.

Reed flipped over several pages until he found what he searched for. It was the telephone number for the Uber driver who took Berenger to English’s house, ahead of the murder. Reed had previously sourced this information from Berenger’s Uber app.

He lifted his desk phone handset and dialled a number. He heavily underlined some dates in his notes, while the ring tone chirped in his ear.

The call answered after five rings, by a person who identified himself as Douglas. After Reed introduced himself and the purpose of his call, he commenced his questions.

’On the morning of 24th September, at around 2am, you picked up a fare from 28 Mountbatten Street East Cumberland and—.’

’Wait… Did you say, 24th September… Four months ago…?

‘That’s right, but I—.’

Douglas scoffed. ‘Mate. I struggle to remember my fares from last week, there are so many.’

‘I understand. But I imagine this fare would have been out of the ordinary for you… It was a fare out bush, to Greensdale. I wouldn’t expect you’d have had too many of those in your travels.’

’Greensdale… Ah…right. Did you say an early morning fare…

‘Around 2am…’

‘You know what…? I do remember that. It was the only time I’d been out that far… It was quite a good paying fare, too…’

‘What do you recall about the fare…?’

‘Ahh… Not a lot. If I’ve got the right fare, he was a young fellow, around mid, to late twenties. Didn’t talk much.’

‘How many passengers did you pick up?’

‘Just the one, I think…’

Reed’s expression tightened. ‘Are you sure it was only one passenger…?’

’Ahh. Yep. It was definitely one. I remember I asked him if he lived way out in Greensdale, coz I don’t know anyone who lived out there. I remember he said he didn’t live there. He was visiting a friend.

’It stuck with me because I figured it would have to have been a booty call, at that time of the morning…’

Reed scribbled some notes as the Uber driver continued.

’That’s right… Douglas said. ’I remember now. When we arrived at the address, the house was a long way back from the road…you know, several hundred metres back. I offered to drive him up to the house, because it was included in the fare, but he insisted I drop him off at the main road.

‘Do you recall what he looked like…?’

‘Oh… Gee. Um. As I said. Young bloke. Mid to late twenties, I’d reckon. Closely shaved hair, I think. But it was a long time ago… Is the accuracy of the description important to you…?’

‘It is, actually.’

’You might be in luck. I have one of those dash cams in my car. It’s mounted next to my rear vision mirror and it points back into the car, to film my passengers… I do it for my protection. I have a sign and everything advising fares, they will be filmed.’

‘How long does the recorded footage remain available…?’

‘I have a 400GB SD card in the camera. For an SD card of that size, it would usually take about… three months before it started overwriting old files…’

Reed checked the date on his watch. ‘Three months…’ He rolled his eyes. ’So… that means the footage from your fare on the morning of the 24th has been recorded over…?’ His tone resonated with disappointment.

’Well…. No. What I said was, an SD card of that size would usually overwrite after three months. But I’m a bit of a tech nerd… I have a portable sixteen terabyte, solid state drive… and at the end of every week, I download the files from all my fares, into the drive…’

With Reed’s personality being what it was, he so much wanted to ask, why the fuck do you do that?But he was too thankful the driver did what he did. ’Are you telling me that you still have the footage from that fare to Greensdale on the morning of the 24th of September…?’

‘I should have… You’re gunna ask me for a copy, aren’t you?’

‘That was going to be my next question.’

‘Do you need a warrant, or something, before I can give it to you…?’

‘Not if you are happy to provide it to me voluntarily… Would you rather I obtain a warrant?’

‘No. Shit, no. I don’t have any problem giving you the footage. Can I email it to you?’

Reed provided Douglas with his email address then ended the call a short time after. He made some quick notes.

If Douglas, the Uber driver, recollected correctly and he only had one passenger in his car, Reed’s whole case had turned.

GPS and Telco data placed both Berenger and North at English’s address on the night of the murder. Both phones were there at the same time, yet only one passenger caught the Uber to that address. This was the same Uber that was booked and paid for through Berenger’s Uber app, on his mobile phone.

Reed’s mind worked overtime. If only one travelled and it was Berenger who booked the Uber through his app, where was North? How could North’s mobile phone be there as well, when he was not in the Uber car?

Could Berenger have, consciously, or unknowingly, taken North’s mobile phone with him, when he went to English’s place? But if so, that didn’t explain why North’s phone was at McCormack’s during the murder.

More than ever, he needed that Uber footage to put all his scenario searching to rest.

Chapter 34

Two days after his call to Uber driver, Douglas, Reed was on a telephone call when a young uniform Constable delivered Reed his daily mail. While he chatted on his call, he glanced at each of the four envelopes. One piqued his interest.

He wedged the phone handset between his shoulder and ear while he ripped into the envelope. He unfolded the letter and quickly scanned it. ‘Look. Something’s come up. I’ll have to call you back…OK.’ He hung up the phone.

His focus returned to the letter, which he read fully. The letter was from Amazon Australia, sent in response to Reed’s court order, seeking McCormack’s login details to his doorbell security camera account.

Reed dropped the letter onto his desk and accessed his computer’s Google. Using the login details provided in the letter, he logged into McCormack’s account.

He located a ‘History’ icon on the site’s main dashboard, for past recorded events. He scrolled to a file labelled “19/9/2021 3.17am”. He opened the file.

The doorbell camera was mounted on the side wall, in the front porch area of McCormack’s home. The video footage began playing.

The scope of the coverage included a side view of McCormack’s front door and beyond, to the pathway that led to his driveway.

In the darkness, McCormack’s car, with the driver’s door open, was visible in the footage. The fisheye style lens in the camera showed McCormack’s front door was open, but the view did not extend beyond the threshold, into the house.

At 3.18am a male wearing a black balaclava, black gloves, a red flannelette shirt, over a black t-shirt, dark jeans and white runners, limped his way along the garden path, to the front door. Here comes Berenger, Reed thought.

This person paused briefly at the open front door, then he disappeared from camera view, when he entered the house. The recorded footage ended around thirty seconds later.

Reed checked the library of video files. He opened one titled 19/9/2021 3.33am. The recorded footage showed the same person exited the house at 3.34am and limped towards the driveway and out of camera view.

Even to the hardened cop, it was eerie watching the murderer leave McCormack’s house, knowing this person had just committed a brutal murder.

The camera footage was clearer than the neighbour’s footage, from across the street and considerably closer. However, it failed to conclusively identify Berenger was the limping intruder, under the balaclava.

‘Wait…’ he said to no-one. Reed frowned at something that caught his attention.

He rewound to the point where the balaclava-wearing offender stepped out from the front door, after killing McCormack, then pressed PLAY.

Reed fell back into his chair at what he saw. He shook a disappointed head at himself. ‘How the hell did I miss that…?’ He mumbled to himself.

He watched the murderer step from McCormack’s front door and commence to walk away. The killer’s first three steps were without any discernible limp. Then, as if a sudden realisation hit, the killer started limping away.

Reed frowned his confusion. He needed to check something. He stopped the playback and rewound the footage to when the killer first arrived at McCormack’s house.

He watched the killer limp his way into McCormack’s house. A smiled emerged out the side of his face. The killer’s limp favoured an injury to his right foot. This was of course consistent with Berenger’s disclosed injury. But something wasn’t right.

He fast forwarded the footage to when the killer exited from McCormack’s front doorway again, to when the killer started to limp.

Reed collapsed back in his chair. A satisfied grin emerged as he watched the footage. As the killer limped away from the camera, he favoured his left foot.

The limp had clearly changed from favouring his right foot to favouring his left. Either Berenger’s injury was feigned all along, or if not, Berenger didn’t murder McCormack.

Could the limping killer actually be Drew North? The more he considered it, the more it started to fit. Especially when he considered that North spelt Paedophile by the U.S. spelling.

If it was North who forgot which foot was injured, as he limped away, then North must have set Berenger up to take the blame.

Could North have put on Berenger’s red shirt and shoes, before killing McCormack? If Berenger slept off a heavy alcohol bender on North’s couch, then that was possible.

That would also explain Berenger’s surprise at the accusations and the charges.

The footage from the doorbell camera clearly showed only one offender was present, and on the face of it, up until now, that person was always thought to be Berenger. Now, Reed was not so certain.

‘Fuck me…’ He blurted to himself. He rubbed a contemplative hand across his mouth, as the possibilities began to hit home. Did he have an innocent man sitting in jail, awaiting trial for double murder?

Reed’s contemplative wheels turned at the possibilities. He exited the camera review screen and returned to the main dashboard, to log out of the program. His eye caught an icon named “Favourites” with a number “1” beside it.

While he was a new user to this security camera dashboard, the “1” suggested to him that there must be one video file saved in McCormack’s favourites folder.

His cop curiosity got the better of him, so he clicked on the icon to access the favourites folder. The one file in the folder was dated 24/6/2021 11.10am. Even though it was dated well ahead of the murder, Reed opened the file.

The same view of McCormack’s front door began playing, only this time it was filmed in daylight. After ten seconds, a male entered the playback screen, from the driveway and approached the front door.

Reed’s jaw dropped. He collapsed back into his chair when he recognised the approaching male was Drew North.

‘What are you up to…?’ Reed mumbled to no-one.

It was only when Drew pressed the front doorbell that Reed realised the footage had clear audio.

McCormack promptly answered Drew’s call. He stood in the open doorway. ‘Yes…?’ He asked his uninvited visitor.

‘You don’t remember me…do you…?’ North replied, firmly.

‘No. Should I…?’

Reed was impressed at how clear the audio was.

‘Would it help if I dropped my fucken pants and bent over…? Maybe you’ll remember me then…’

‘Look. I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

This response must’ve angered North. He lunged at McCormack and grabbed two fists full of his jumper. He forcefully shoved McCormack back inside his house and out of camera view.

While out of camera view however, the camera kept recording the aggressive conversation, albeit slightly muffled.

Reed turned up the volume slider on his playback screen, as he strained his ears to listen. ‘I told you at McKillop that one day I would get you for what you did to me, you fucken paedophile dog…’ Reed’s eyebrows arched at that particular term.

A grunting sound was audible. Reed presumed it was made by McCormack. Drew continued.

‘I now know where you live…Your fucken day of reckoning is fast approaching, old man.’

‘I’m sorry… That was a long time ago—.’ An audible slap sound resonated, followed closely by a heavy grunt.

‘Not today… Not tomorrow, maybe not next week…’ Drew was heard to say. ‘But one day… I’m coming back for you and you’re gunna pay for what you did to me.’

McCormack mumbled an inaudible reply.

‘Sure…Tell the cops about me and I’ll expose you for what you did to me and all those other young boys at McKillop…You wouldn’t last a day in jail, you—.’

The video recording suddenly ended, due to the lack of motion activity. Reed quickly searched the files for the footage that would have activated when Drew left McCormack’s house.

Reed realised that unless saved to favourites, video files must only be saved for a limited time, because files prior to 30 June 2021, were no longer accessible.

He ran his hands through his thick hair. His heart felt like it sunk into his stomach. This file in McCormack’s Favourites folder obviously caused McCormack enough concern for his safety, for him to save it.

This footage added further weight to Reed’s growing suspicions that Drew North may have killed McCormack. In his rage, North could be heard as he referenced McCormack’s abuse of him at McKillop House.

He referenced McCormack’s day of reckoning, where North said he was coming back to make McCormack pay. He even referred to McCormack as a “paedophile dog”.

This whole case had all but imploded. Prior to now, Reed was satisfied he had his man. But now, he was not so sure. Now, he worried that Berenger may very well be innocent.

Chapter 35

Reed was in the process of discussing his latest revelations, with Alan, for a second opinion, when the email tone on his computer dinged. Reed checked the small pop-up notification window. It was an email from Uber Douglas.

‘Ahh. This is the Uber footage I’ve been waiting for,’ he announced. ‘Let me just check this…’ he said to Alan. He opened the email and double-clicked on the attachment.

A video player filled his screen. The footage from the inside of a motor car began to play. The driver, presumably Douglas, sat in the driver’s seat. The front and rear passenger seats were empty.

The footage captured the driver pulling over to the side of the road. The interior light illuminated when the rear, passenger side door opened. A male slid into the rear passenger seat, then closed the door.

Reed’s shoulders slumped. He glanced up at Alan, who stood looking over Reed’s shoulder at the playback. Alan lifted his chin to the computer screen. ‘Who’s that who just got in…?’

Reed checked over his shoulders to ensure no-one else could hear. ’That is Drew North…’ Reed said. He checked the date and time stamp on the footage. It matched. ‘Fuck me…’

The footage captured the entire trip to Greensdale. It corroborated Douglas’ version of events, when Douglas said he offered to drive his fare up to the house. But Drew North instructed Douglas to drop him off on the side of the road, presumably to prevent headlights approaching down the lengthy drive.

Reed shook his head as he glanced up at Alan. ‘After I received the GPS and Telco data, I was confident we had a co-offender to Berenger…’

‘And now…?’

‘I think this prick…’ he flicked a finger at the playback. ’Killed ‘em both, then set Berenger up’

‘Can you prove it…?’ Reed shrugged. ‘More importantly, can you convince a jury…?’ Alan asked.

Reed stared at his computer screen in contemplation. Several seconds passed. ‘Well…North is clearly the only passenger in that Uber…’ He gestured to the screen. ’Yet mobile phone data showed both their phones were at English’s murder…’

‘OK…’

‘And before you think, maybe Berenger went out there in a different vehicle… That one there…’ Reed again gestured to the screen. ‘Was the Uber ordered through Berenger’s Uber app. So, why was North the only passenger, if Berenger ordered it? If they were in this together, you’d expect they’d travel in the same Uber…Right?’

‘So, you think he’s carrying Berenger’s phone…’

‘I do…’ He pushed himself up from his chair and moved over to his white board, located off to the side of his desk.

‘Let’s just assume I’m right and North was setting up Berenger to take the fall… North is a cop… He knew, at the very least, we would ping Berenger’s phone to the mobile phone towers to track his movements…’

’I see.So you’re saying he took Berenger’s mobile phone with him, which would place an otherwise innocent Berenger at the crime scene…’

‘Correct. OK. So, here’s what I now know…’ Reed began. He started writing dot points on the board. “The night of each murder, Berenger stayed at North’s unit.”

Alan stood in front of the board monitoring Reed’s theories, as they appeared on the board. ‘While that was fact… it is only circumstantial…’ Alan said.

Reed held up his marker pen. ‘Agreed.’ He wrote his next dot point. “Berenger and North’s mobile phones were present at both murders.” He underlined the word “Both” several times.

‘OK…’

Reed scribbled down his next point. “North was a resident at McKillop House as a child and was abused by McCormack.”

“Circumstantial… Being a resident at McKillop House does not prove North murdered McCormack…’ Alan said.

‘True… But it lends itself to motive… Before we found out he was a former resident, we never even considered him in the mix… As you know, McCormack was a revenge kill… Then there’s this…’ Reed scribbled down his next point “24/6/2021 North threatened McCormack at his home.” He quickly added the next point, before Alan could comment. “He called McCormack a paedophile dog.”

“Threats do not prove murder. They certainly make someone a suspect, but that’s all…’ Alan added.

Reed added his next point. “North used U.S. spelling of Paedophile…”

Alan extended an upturned palm. ’Circumstantial. So do hundreds of other people…doesn’t prove he killed McCormack.’

Reed wrote, “Berenger’s limp changed in security footage.”

He stepped to the side of the whiteboard and gestured to the last comment with his marker pen, to explain. ‘Berenger’s injury was explained as a fused ankle. As you know, once an ankle is fused…it’s fused. You can’t miraculously walk freely, even for a short number of steps…OK?’

‘OK.’

‘In McCormack’s doorbell footage, the offender exited the front door and walked, limp free for about three, or four steps, then started limping. As I said… a fused ankle can’t do that. And what’s more, when the offender started limping, he limped on the wrong foot…’

’OK. I’ll accept that questions whether the offender was Berenger, but…’ He flicked a finger at the whiteboard. ’It doesn’t in any way prove that person in the balaclava was North.’

’Agreed… But do you agree the clothing worn by that person in the video was Berenger’s clothes…? Blood splatter and shoe prints confirmed it…Right?’

‘Yes…’

’Well…If you accept those clothes worn in the video footage were Berenger’s… and you accept that the person wearing them in the footage, was not Berenger…’ Reed paused to glance at Alan, to see if he followed. ‘Who had access to Berenger’s clothes, in particular, the red shirt and white runners, the night McCormack was killed…?’

‘Still circumstantial…Strong circumstantial, I’ll admit… but it does not prove the person in those clothes was North.’

’If it wasn’t Berenger…who else could it be…? Who else had to have access to Berenger’s red shirt and white runners that night…?

Alan shrugged. ‘The onus is on us to prove it… Not North.’

Reed tapped his second dot point on the whiteboard—“Berenger and North’s mobile phones were present at both murders.”

‘North was there,’ Reed said firmly. ’His mobile phone placed him there. If we accept the person in the balaclava was not Berenger…’ he glared at Alan.

When Alan looked unconvinced, Reed bent back a finger. ‘Look… North had access to Berenger’s clothes, the very same ones that were worn at the time of the murder.’ He bent back a second finger. ‘North’s phone placed him at the murder scene.’ He bent back a third finger. ‘If it isn’t Berenger and it isn’t North… then who the hell is it…?’ Reed threw his arms in the air.

‘I’m not disagreeing with you. Keep in mind, Berenger’s phone was there also…’

‘Yes… It’s my next dot point… But we can show North took Berenger’s phone to English’s address… So it is evidence of similar acts…’ Reed said in a pleading tone.

‘Look…’ Alan began. ’I like North for this, too. But… You know as well as I do… we need to prove beyond all reasonable doubt, the person in the doorbell video was North,’ Alan said. ‘Admittedly, you have some very strong circumstantial evidence against North, especially when it is all considered collectively. But if you want to go after a fellow cop…’ Alan shook a firm head. ‘Mark my words… The evidence needs to be irrefutable…’

Reed sighed heavily. He didn’t disagree, but the more he discussed it, the more he believed North was the offender and he set Berenger up to take the fall. He’d been doing this a long time. He realised it was up to him to prove it, conclusively.

He scribbled another dot point. “North only passenger in Uber ordered via Berenger’s phone.” Reed tapped the dot point with his pen, as he explained. ’This Uber took the passenger to Mark English’s house, around the time and date English was murdered…

’The Uber was ordered on Berenger’s phone… but North was the only passenger. GPS data showed Berenger was also there… but he wasn’t.

‘It is therefore, reasonable to conclude, North must’ve carried Berenger’s mobile with him…’

‘OK. That fits, I suppose.’

‘Why would North take Berenger’s mobile phone to a murder scene…?’ Reed asked rhetorically. ‘And further…’ He continued. ‘Why would North order an Uber through Berenger’s Uber app, unless he wanted to make it appear like Berenger caught the Uber to English’s house, that night.’

‘It certainly suggests North has some explaining to do… But these are questions that only North can answer. He may be able to provide a plausible reason…’

‘Bullshit!’ Reed waved the back of his hand at Alan. ‘How could he possibly explain that away…? Especially when you’ve got Berenger saying he wasn’t even there…’

’Yes, but Berenger’s charged with murder… At this stage, North isn’t. At this stage all the evidence suggests Berenger is our killer… that’s why he’s currently sitting in a cell…That’s why he’ll say whatever he can to try and beat the charges…’

‘But that’s my point. What was conclusive evidence against Berenger, is now weak because it now suggests some of it was planted. The case against Berenger was manufactured by North because North was the killer…’

Reed stepped back and scanned his dot points. To him, they heavily slanted towards North’s involvement. But was it enough to convince a jury? Possibly, but he wasn’t sure.

He knew Alan was playing ‘devil’s advocate’ in his comments and reasoning. That’s all part of the investigative process when you bounce ideas off one another.

Reed knew he needed more to lock down North as the one and only offender. He had an idea. It was a long shot, but it might just work.

Chapter 36

Reed checked the time on his watch as the ring tone chirped in his ear. Due to daylight savings in Victoria, the time in Queensland was one hour behind, so it was just after 9am up there.

‘Brooke Page…’ a female voice answered.

Reed considered he needed some assistance, if his idea was to bear fruit. He needed someone he could trust to speak to Berenger, to fill Berenger’s head with doubt over Drew North’s loyalty, as a friend. The first person that came to mind was Brooke.

After he introduced himself to Brooke, the reception he received was cold. Her tone was curt and forced.

Reed checked his watch. ‘I’m sorry to bother you so early in your working day. I’m aware it’s only early up there in Queensland, but I was hoping you had ten minutes you can give me?’

‘For what…?’

‘I was hoping to have a chat to you about Lincoln Berenger…’ Reed said.

‘Haven’t you done enough to him…?’

’Actually…I trying to help him.’

’You trying to help him… or help you…?’

‘I assure you…I’m trying to help him.’

‘How could you possibly help him…?’

’This was why I was hoping to have a chat with you…so I can explain my position to you, and how you can assist me in helping Lincoln…’

The phone went silent for several seconds. Reed checked his connection. It was still active. ‘You still there…?’ Reed asked.

‘I’m here…’

‘So… can you give me ten minutes of your time…to help Lincoln?’

‘I don’t understand how I can help…’

‘Look…If you need a bit of a teaser for why I’m calling…Let’s just say it has a bearing on Lincoln’s possible innocence…’

’Innocence…? Are you saying he didn’t murder those people?’

‘Right now…No. That’s not what I’m saying. But I have suspicions that might be the case. So, can you spare some time to discuss something please?’

‘I suppose I can meet you…’

Reed’s eyebrows plunged. His mouth straightened. ‘Meet you…? I’m not in a position to fly to—.’

‘I’m not in Queensland, Detective. I’m down here for a few days, helping my mother with her rehab…I’m heading back Sunday…’

‘Fantastic…Do you know the Waterfront Café…?’

‘Yes.’

Reed checked his watch. ‘How’s 11am for a coffee…? Gives you a little over an hour…’

‘OK. I’ll see you there.’

---

Reed sat alone at a bayside table, at the Waterfront Café, overlooking the vast expanse of Horse Head Bay.

Cumberland’s north facing waterfront location was one of the town’s many features. Cafés and restaurants, all boasting coastal outlooks, lined the town’s foreshore.

Parks and gardens provided ample green space along the foreshore for families to picnic and children to play. The white sandy beach proved a popular go-to for locals and tourists alike, seeking respite from the warm summer days.

The morning was warm, but overcast down by the water. The café in which Reed sat was around three-quarters full. He checked the time on his watch, after waving away the table waitress, for the second time.

Concern lines filled his face when he noticed Brooke was now fifteen minutes late. Had she stood him up, or was she simply late…?

Reed’s shoulders relaxed when he noticed Brooke approaching along the waterfront boardwalk. He stood from his chair as she arrived. Reed extended his hand to Brooke. Her eyes fell to the hand, then lifted to back to Reed.

She accepted his gesture, but her hand shake was perfunctory. Reed gestured to her seat. ‘Please…’ he said. She slid into the chair and placed her handbag on the floor beside her. ‘Can I get you a coffee…?’ He offered.

She nodded. ‘Thank you. Ahh, skinny flat white—extra hot.’

Reed raised a hand to the table waitress, who promptly attended and took their order.

Brooke folded her hands in her lap. ‘So, what is so important that you wanted to meet with me?’

‘I’m seeking your assistance, but, first, let me fill you in on the back story.’

‘Please do.’

’I’ve asked you here because, well… you understand the importance of privileged information. Now, I know none of what we will talk about here this morning is privileged. But I need you to understand that it is as important that you guard this information, just as if it was lawyer-client privilege. Can I rely on you to do that?’

’I have no idea what you want to talk about, but I can give you that reassurance, if I believe it necessary to do so.’

Reed took the time to explain to Brooke how he’d discovered evidence and information that suggested Lincoln may have been set up to take the blame for the English and McCormack murders.

He initially withheld whom he suspected, until he was able to get a read on her willingness to assist and treat the information as confidential.

He couldn’t afford to show his hand too early and then have her run to Drew North with his theories.

‘That is astonishing, Detective. I’m not saying I disbelieve you, but…’ Brooke shook her head.

‘I’m sure you appreciate, I can’t show you the evidence, but you’ll have to take my word for it,’ Reed reassured.

‘I understand, but who would do that to Lincoln? He didn’t know that many people. Apart from his friend Drew, who else did he know?’

Reed’s mouth straightened as he silently held Brooke’s questioning glare. His unspoken expression was as clear as if he’d said the name. Brooke’s eyebrows arched in realisation.

‘I know it sounds farfetched… But…’ Reed said.

Brooke held up a hand. ‘Let me make sure we’re on the same page here,’ Brooke began. ‘You’re saying that Lincoln’s best mate, killed those men and essentially framed Lincoln? That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?’

‘That is exactly what I’m saying.’

Brooke shook her disbelieving head. ‘And you have evidence to prove this…?’

‘I do.’

‘Then why do you need me?’

‘Some of it is circumstantial, but it is still very strong evidence. So…what I’m proposing will be the final nail I need. But I need your help to drive that nail in…’

Reed and Brooke paused as they watched the table waitress place their coffee orders in front of them. They both nodded their smiling gratitude to the waitress.

When the waitress left the table, Reed provided what he knew in relation to the evidence that suggested Drew was the lone offender. All through his disclosure, Brooke slowly shook her head.

When Reed was finished with his back story, he said, ‘Now… I’m sure you agree that is a clear picture, as to Drew North’s complicity in the murders…’

Brooke fell back in her chair. She shook her head. ‘Wow!’ She said. ‘Now I understand your concern for Lincoln. I’m all ears, Detective. I’m not sure what you want me to do, though.’ She sipped on her coffee.

‘Are you on Lincoln’s telephone call list…?’

Brooke shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I haven’t spoken to him, since he went to jail.’

‘Can you send him a letter, requesting to get on it…? And in the same letter, ask him to call you…’

’I suppose I can.But why am I doing that…?’

’OK. This is where I need your help.What I need you to do is… once he calls you, talk to him about your concerns over the evidence… Emphasize, these are your concerns. Put your lawyer’s cap on. Try to convince him that something doesn’t seem right, to you.’

‘OK. I think I understand.’

‘Basically, I want you to talk to Lincoln and try to convince him that he may have been set up for the murders. I don’t want you to mention any names. Let him work that out for himself, with your guidance. Just mention how the evidence doesn’t sit right with you… Does that make sense?’

‘I think so. You want me to try and make him question his friend’s loyalty, without me telling him, his friend actually set him up?’

‘Exactly.’

‘And what will that prove?’

’Drew has an appointment to meet with Lincoln on the 18th…’ Reed checked the date on his watch. ’So…that’s in about two weeks. What I’m hoping is… When Drew visits Lincoln, after you’ve spoken to Lincoln… we want Lincoln to put those concerns to Drew. It’s a long bow, I know, but I’m hinging everything on Drew coming clean and admitting it all to Lincoln.’

’That is a long bow, Detective.’

‘I’m actually confident Drew will fess up, if Lincoln presses him hard enough. Here’s why…’ Reed leaned on his elbows. ‘Drew is egocentric…maybe verging on psychopathic, when you consider these murders he’d committed… Deep down, as with all psychopaths, he’d love to take praise for the clean murders, and for successfully setting up Lincoln.’

‘OK…’

‘If you can get Lincoln to believe someone set him up…Lincoln’s first thoughts would obviously be Drew. If he thinks this and puts it to Drew, with conviction, because he believes it…I think Drew will cave in and tell him…’

’And if Drew doesn’t admit it…?’

‘He has to… Lincoln’s freedom relies on it. It’s up to Lincoln to push Drew hard enough for the truth…If Lincoln does that…I’m confident Drew will fold and tell all.’

’I hope you’re right, Detective. I’ll see what I can do.

Chapter 37

Four weeks after he returned from hospital, Lincoln was fully recovered and had settled back into the boring routine of remand.

Hours rolled into days, days rolled into weeks and weeks into months, as Lincoln did nothing, but wait. He had to bide his time ahead of his judgement day, to learn his fate.

Would the doctor’s evidence be enough to persuade a jury to release him, or would he spend the rest of his life in prison?

Lincoln’s visitor list was considerably small, which was consistent with someone who kept to themselves. He never travelled in large circles of friends, and he did not like large groups.

So, apart from his lawyer, the only visitors Lincoln had received to date, were Max and Valerie, and Bear. He found it refreshing to see their smiling faces and hear their positive encouragement.

Max and Valerie’s visit was conducted in the visit room, which pleased Lincoln. He didn’t want to see them crammed into the small visit box.

But Bear’s visit had to be in the visit box, chatting via an intercom. Bear had been there, done that before, so he wasn’t fazed.

Bear’s visit was especially timely, as Lincoln often wondered how Bear’s court case went. Lincoln learned from a smiling Bear, that instead of receiving mandatory jail for assaulting a police officer in the course of their duty, he was given a twelve-month good behaviour bond, without conviction and a $1000 fine.

The magistrate gave Bear the option—Provide a written apology to the police and he would not impose a conviction. Refuse to write the apology, and he would receive a conviction. Bear chose to write the apology.

Apart from those visitors, he’d received a letter from Brooke, in which she asked to be placed on his call list, which he’d previously done. And he’d since spoken to her on the telephone three times, the most recent being a concerning call from her last week.

But for the most, he was on his own. He didn’t have much to share about his time inside, and he didn’t have too many people to share it with, anyway.

Today however, he had a slight pep in his step. Today would be a good day to break some of the boredom. He had a contact visit with Drew this afternoon at 2pm.

The contact visit meant they would sit in the open room visitor area, at a table and chair and be able to chat freely. This was preferred to a box visit, where they would’ve sat in a large phone box sized enclosed room, on separate sides of a glass pane, chatting through an intercom phone.

He had spoken to Drew twice on the phone, but with Drew’s changing shift work, and Lincoln not being aware of Drew’s roster, Drew was difficult to catch.

It would be the first time he’d seen Drew since arriving at the WRC. He was quite excited about the pending visit, probably more than he allowed himself to be.

Without a watch he had no idea of the time. The only way he knew his appointment time approached was because they’d already had lunch, which was served at 12 noon, and that seemed some time ago, now.

Lincoln reclined on his bed, with his hands supporting his head. He tried to prepare a mental list of conversation topics for his visit with Drew. His recent telephone chat with Brooke, last week, provided him with some conversation pieces he wanted to address, but apart from that, he had very little.

His deep thoughts were broken when the Supervising Officer appeared in Lincoln’s cell doorway. ‘Ready to go…? You’ve got a visitor waiting…’

An excited smile filled Lincoln’s face. He swung his feet to the floor and jumped from his bed. ‘Let’s do it…’ he said as he trotted from his cell.

Prior to entering the visit room, for security reasons, Lincoln had to change into orange one-piece overalls, with no pockets and no openings in the clothing.

When Lincoln arrived at the visitor room for his contact visit, Drew was already waiting. The visit room was a brightly lit room, with royal blue carpet.

Twelve, white circular tables, bolted to the floor, with four white stool-style seats attached, were dotted at intervals, throughout the room.

Each table was occupied with inmates and their visitors. A gentle hum of quiet conversation filled the room.

When Drew noticed Lincoln approaching, he pushed himself up from the table and stood. They grabbed thumbs and pulled themselves into a quick embrace, then slid onto their respective stool.

Drew adjusted himself on his seat. ‘These metal stools are a bit rough on the arse, Bro…’ Lincoln nodded his agreement as he too adjusted himself on the stool.

They each leaned their elbows on the metal table, while they chatted.

‘I had a quick chat with the detective in charge of your case…He told me you’ve been committed to trial, early next year…’

Lincoln’s mouth straightened. He nodded slowly. ‘Yep…’

‘The magistrate apparently said the evidence against you was conclusive…’

‘Yep…’

‘But… He also told me a shrink gave expert evidence about how you were suffering from dissociative amnesia at the time…’

‘That’s right. That’s gunna be our defence…’

‘Reed didn’t seem too worried about that sort of defence…’

‘Why should he…? It’s actually me who has an issue with it, if I’m being honest.’

‘Really…? How so?’

‘Sitting in here… all I have is time and time allows me to think. And the more I think back to the nights these murders happened, the more I don’t understand.’

‘Understand what…?’

‘I can remember each of the nights we had a big sesh… the first with just you and me… the other with you, me and Brooke…’

‘That’s right, and ended back at mine on each one.’

’See, that’s what I don’t understand… I remember everything that happened before we went back to yours… but after that, I thought I was sleeping at yours…but instead, I’m apparently in some psychotic fucken trance and killing people…’

‘That’s what the shrink said, wasn’t it…? Dissociative amnesia…’

‘I don’t buy it, mate…’ Lincoln held his glare on Drew. ‘The more time I’ve had to think about it, the more I don’t buy it.’

‘Why’s that…? I don’t understand….’

Lincoln adjusted himself on his stool. He held firm eyes on Drew. ‘I’m gunna ask you a question, Bro… and I want you to answer me honestly. I think you owe me that.’

‘Of course…’

‘Did you set me up for these murders…?’

Drew’s face tightened. He reeled back slightly. He frowned heavily. ’Are you seriously asking me that…? Why would I do that…? More importantly, How… would I do that?’

’That’s what I’m asking you… See. Here’s the thing… I hated McCormack with every piece of my being. I’ve admitted to the cops that I wanted him dead. But English…’ Lincoln held open palms to the side. ‘Who the fuck is he…?’ he asked rhetorically. ’I had forgotten all about him.

’He never touched me, so why would I remember him. That cop had to remind me who the fuck he was when he charged me with killing him.

‘Yet, here I am, supposedly with some revenge vendetta against this bloke I’d forgotten about, where I apparently looked up where he lived and went and killed him.’

‘That’s what the evidence shows, Bro. You heard the magistrate. It’s conclusive evidence…’

‘Is it…?’ Lincoln glared at Drew. ‘Then I got to thinking. I remember when we were both at McKillop—you and me… before you were fostered out. You made a complaint to that English bloke about what McCormack was doing to you. Do you remember that?’

‘Mm-hmm. But you made a complaint to him, as well…’

‘I did. But I was only disappointed when he did nothing… You…’ He flicked a finger at Drew. ’I remember how pissed off you were at English, when he didn’t take any action against McCormack.

‘You were filthy. You said you were gunna get him. I distinctly remember it. You hated him nearly as much as you hated McCormack.’

‘What’s that got to do with anything…?’

’It has everything to do with everything, mate. Can’t you see…? I didn’t even remember English, but you did.’ He jabbed a firm finger at Drew, while he continued. ‘You wanted him dead, not me, yet I supposedly killed this person, whom I didn’t even remember existed. Why would I do that…?’

’But the evidence shows it was you who did it…’

’Which brings me back to my question… Did you set me up to take the blame for killing these blokes, you wanted dead…?’ Lincoln pressed flat palms on the table, like he was about to push himself up to stand.

‘Come on man. You owe me this,’ Lincoln continued. ’You said it yourself… the evidence against me is compelling. It doesn’t matter what you tell me here… I’m the one who’s fucked, not you.

‘If I try to tell the cops you set me up… I’m just gunna look like a guy who’s drowning and trying to grab anything to save his life…’

Chapter 38

Drew held Lincoln’s pleading eyes. He shook his head. His expression was one of disappointment. He rubbed a hand across his mouth, then casually checked over his shoulders. His expression loosened as he leaned onto his elbows. He glared at Lincoln.

‘You wanna know…?’ He said quietly. ’Are you sure you wanna know…? Be careful what you ask for, mate… coz you may not like the answer…’

‘Fucken oath. I wanna know. Did you fucken set me up…?’ Lincoln said through gritted teeth.

Drew held Lincoln’s fierce glare. ’OK. I came back to Cumberland because of work, a couple of years back. After work we’d usually end up at the Royal. There was this one time when I was there that I saw that fucken dog sitting at the bar, drinking.

‘I’d pushed him so far down in my memory that I’d forgotten about him, if I’m being honest. But it was right at that moment, everything he did to me at that place, flooded back. I thought, you’re a fucken dead man walking… So I went about planning how I was gunna get him and that other piece of shit, English for not stopping him.’

Lincoln’s eyes flared in realisation of where this was headed.

Drew nodded as he continued. ‘I’d been planning something for a few weeks, then out of the blue… you rocked up. And everything changed. That’s when I thought… you know what…? I could kill these blokes and make it look like you did it.’ He held up a finger. ‘You were at McKillop…’ He held a second finger. ‘You were also raped by that fucken dog, McCormack… It was beautiful and best of all… you’re an ex-con with a record for violence.’

‘You fucken dog!’ Lincoln blurted in a raised voice. He paused to check his surrounds. Female visitors at nearby tables openly frowned their disapproval at the language.

He continued in a controlled tone. ’You know I did five years when I was innocent… and now you want to send me away for life, for doing nothing…Fuck…! He blurted. ‘I nearly died in here and that’s all because of you…’ He glared his contempt at Drew.

‘Mate…You were my Lee Harvey Oswald. My Patsy. My fall guy. It was perfect, wasn’t it? I mean, look at all the strength of evidence that is against you. There is nothing to tie me into these murders.’ He smirked at Lincoln. ‘Absolutely nothing…’

‘Why would you do that to me…? We were mates.’

’We were mates. But once we left school, I never saw you again. So, yeah… Ten years ago, we were mates, but life goes on. I’d forgotten about you, until I saw you that day in the CBD. That’s when my new plan was hatched.’

Lincoln shook his head. He was stunned as he tried to process what was happening. ‘But why me…? Why would you do that to me…?’

‘Look. OK. Let’s be honest here… I was always a little jealous of you.’

‘Why the fuck would you be jealous of me…?’

‘Mate… You were better at everything than me. You were better at sports. You ran faster than I could. You were smarter in school. All the girls liked you more than me. Mate, I lived in your shadow. Even at McKillop you got better treatment than I did.’

‘That’s only because McCormack dumped you, when he started raping me. Prior to that, you were the golden boy on the end of his dick… You received the same favouritism from McCormack that I got… after you.’

‘I sort of hoped, deep down, that you would get some sort of psychological defence, which would help you beat it, and if you did, then it’s a win-win for everyone…’

Lincoln’s eyebrows plunged. His face distorted. ‘Win-win…?’ He glared his angered eyes at Drew. ‘Are you fucken kiddin—. How the fuck is it a win-win for me, sitting in here for the last four months, awaiting trial…’

‘It’s a win for you, if you beat it…’

‘And if I don’t…’ Lincoln waved the back of his hand at Drew. He didn’t wait for a response before continuing. ‘I gotta know. You gotta tell me. How the fuck did you arrange all this evidence against me…? I deserve to know…’ Lincoln held his firm glare at Drew. ‘You owe me that…’

Drew grinned proudly. ‘OK…’ He nodded his agreement. ‘You’re right. I do owe you that. They’ll never believe you if you try and tell them anyway. The evidence against you is too strong. It was pretty damned clever… even if I do say so myself.’

He checked his surrounds then leaned on his elbows. ‘You remember the first night we had drinks at the Royal,’ he began in a quiet voice. ’Then ended up back at mine…? You were smashed… Shit-faced and you crashed on my couch.’

Lincoln crossed tight arms. He sighed heavily. ‘I’m regretting it now… but, yep.’

’Remember it was raining that night, so we took our shoes off at the front door. When you went to bed, you took that ugly-arse red shirt off and hung it over the back of a chair… So I put on my dark jeans…and black t-shirt. I put on your red shirt and your shoes. I grabbed your phone, so the GPS in it would show you were at McCormack’s. Mate, I even walked like you with your…’ He flicked a finger at Lincoln’s legs. ‘Limp, in case anyone saw me…’

Lincoln shook a disgusted head. He wanted to reach across the table and snap Drew’s neck, but something restrained him. Quite possibly, it was his curiosity over how he was set up, or maybe he was so stunned by the revelations. ‘How the fuck did you set me up with English…?’

‘Ahh…’ Drew adjusted himself on his stool. He was enjoying disclosing his cleverness to his audience of one. ‘You remember at the Royal, I loaded the Uber app on your phone, for you…?’ Lincoln nodded. ‘You had to unlock your phone first. You left it on the table when you unlocked it… 8-3-4-1…’ His grin was smug.

’I used your phone to Google Maps English’s place. I used your Uber app to order the Uber there and back. I took your phone with me to English’s place, so the GPS would track you there. See these things all placed you at the crime scenes, even though you were comatose on my couch, the whole time.’

Lincoln cupped his head in a hand. His emotions ran wild. The person he considered his best mate from childhood and the only person he trusted, had betrayed him in a way that transcended all human decency.

‘You’re a fucken psychopath…’ He glared his contempt at Drew.

‘Whoa…’ Drew held open palms to Lincoln. ‘That’s a little heavy, isn’t it…? Especially when you know what these people did to us, in there. They ruined both our lives.’

‘Yeah, and now you making sure you ruin mine,’ Lincoln said through gritted teeth.

‘Not if your defence gets up, you won’t.’

‘That now explains everything for me…That’s why I have no memory of killing these guys… Coz I wasn’t even FUCKEN THERE…!’ Lincoln’s voice raised to a frustrated yell.

‘Berenger…!’ The duty prison officer yelled from his supervisor’s station. ‘Last warning.’

Lincoln waved the back of a hand over his shoulder at the officer. He collapsed his arms onto the table, while he tried to process everything. His stunned eyes fell heavily onto the table.

‘It was the perfect crime,’ Drew boasted. ‘Or, crimes,’ he corrected. ‘It’s nothing personal, Bro. You were just an opportunity for me. You were my means to an end.’

Lincoln’s fierce glare lifted to Drew. ‘Nothing personal…’ He shook a disgusted head. ‘Are you fucken kidding me. I’m looking at life in jail, for what? For sleeping on your couch, while you ran around killing these pricks. Fuck me…’ He shook his head. ‘Nothing personal. Fuck you!’ he glared at Drew.

‘See, that’s the difference between you and me, Bro…’ Drew pushed himself up from his stool and stood.

Lincoln’s jaw tightened. ‘I’m not your fucken Bro…’

Drew glared down at Lincoln. ‘I get to leave this place and go home now, and you…’ He waved a general hand across the room. ’You have to stay here. Cheers, mate,’ he over emphasised. ‘Good luck in court.’

Lincoln’s head collapsed onto his arms, while Drew headed for the visitor room exit. A melting pot of emotions bubbled to the surface; shock, disappointment, betrayal, rage, frustration, anger, disbelief, frustration, embarrassment, all converged into one intense pain in his brain.

He was looking at life in jail for something he didn’t do and it was the one person in his life, he trusted with his life, who put him there.

It was pointless going to the cops with what he’d learned. Drew was a respected cop with a clean record. He had no proof and he would only appear desperate to try and shift the blame. Drew had certainly done a number on him and there was not a thing he could do about it.

Chapter 39

Drew glanced back at Lincoln as he strolled to the exit. A smug grin filled his face.

His betrayal was complete. He’d completed the perfect murders and successfully set Lincoln up to take the blame. Lincoln was now in jail awaiting trial and he got to tell, or rather boast to Lincoln, all about his clever plan. Things could not have been better for Drew.

As Drew reached the door, Reed and two Police officers met him inside the visit room. Drew frowned when he recognised Reed.

‘What are you doing here, Reed-O…?’ Drew asked. He jabbed a cocky thumb over a shoulder… ‘Here for him, are you?’

Reed grabbed Drew’s wrist and twisted his arm behind his back.‘I’m here for you…’

‘What the fuck are you doing…?’ Drew said over a shoulder to Reed, who now stood behind Drew.

Lincoln noticed the commotion and wandered over towards the door.A prison officer stopped Lincoln from getting too close, as the arrest continued. Lincoln’s mouth fell open as he watched everything unfold.

‘You are under arrest for the murder of Mark English and Walter McCormack…’

‘You’re fucken kidding me.’

He read Drew his rights. All the while, Drew questioned Reed’s actions and his authority.

‘You got nothing on me,’ Drew said.

‘We recorded the entire conversation, you piece of shit.’

‘You what…?’

‘I said… We recorded your entire conversation. Your confession and everything,’ Reed repeated with emphasis.

Drew glanced over his shoulder at Reed. ‘I made all that stuff up. None of it really happened that way… I was just fucken with him. You’ll never prove I was anywhere near the murders…’

’You forgot about your mobile phone, mastermind. You set up Lincoln, but you took your own phone with you.’ Drew’s conceding shoulders slumped. His resistance ceased.

Once the handcuffs were secured, Reed firmly shoved Drew towards one of the uniform cops.

‘How the fuck did you even know I was meeting him today…?’ Drew asked.

Reed initially ignored Drew’s question, but then he had a quick rethink. He decided to let Drew know, he was not as clever as he thought he was. So, Reed told Drew about his own sting.

He held up a finger to the escorting cop, to wait a minute. ‘Because you asked. I’m going to tell you,’ he began. ’Corrections Victoria notified me about your visit with Lincoln today, and what table you’d be seated at.

’Under court authority, we installed listening devices under the table before you arrived, so we could record your entire conversation. We caught every word.’ Reed’s smile was intentionally smug.

‘How could you possibly know what we were going to talk about. I certainly didn’t,’ Drew said.

Reed smiled as he held Drew’s gaze. ‘Clever manipulation of a conversation, my friend,’ Reed said. ’I asked Brooke to have a chat to Lincoln, during which she mentioned her concerns to him about how she thought he had been set up by someone.

’Her job was to place enough doubt in Lincoln’s mind, so he would have no choice but to question whether it was you who set him up for the murders. Beautiful, when a plan comes together, isn’t it…?’

‘Are you saying Lincoln was in on it the whole time…?’

Reed shook his head in response. ’He had no idea what was going on…He did a great job, though, didn’t he…? I couldn’t have questioned you any better myself…

‘Take this piece of shit away…’ Reed directed. He watched North being escorted out the door. When he was gone, Reed approached Lincoln.

Lincoln’s puzzled gaze met the approaching Reed. ‘What the fuck just happened?’

Reed gestured to their visit table. ‘Take a seat.’ Reed watched Lincoln slide onto one of the stools. Lincoln leaned on his elbows, in anticipation. Reed sat opposite Lincoln while he explained everything.

‘I’ve suspected for some time now that Drew North committed the murders you’ve been charged with and I believed he set you up.’

Lincoln’s eyebrows shot up. His eyes widened. ‘That’s exactly what he did.’ Lincoln jabbed a thumb over his shoulder towards the exit. ‘He just told me that now…’

Reed nodded. ‘I know.’ Lincoln frowned his confusion. Reed gestured under the table. ‘We recorded the entire conversation.’

Lincoln’s jaw dropped. ‘No way…’ Lincoln blurted. ‘You heard everything…?’

Reed nodded. ‘We sure did…’

‘You heard him say, he set me up…?’ Reed nodded again. ‘So, that means you know I didn’t do it… Right? You know I didn’t kill anyone.’

‘We do…’

Tears instantly welled in Lincoln’s eyes. He couldn’t contain his emotions. His head fell heavily onto his arms as he wept into his forearms.

As tough as he was, Reed’s eyes also welled with tears, as he watched Lincoln come to grips with the news that would ultimately set him free.

What had just played out was the final chapter of Lincoln’s troubled and unfortunate life, to date. The dark truth had been exposed and it was finally time for Lincoln’s luck to change.

After several minutes, Lincoln’s head lifted. His reddened, tear-filled eyes glanced across the table to Reed. He extended a hand. Reed’s surprised eyes fell to the hand. He shook it.

‘I know this sounds strange,’ Lincoln said. ‘Because you put me in here, in the first place, but, thank you, Detective. Thank you for doing your job and finding the real killer…’

Reed extended the handshake, longer than usual. ‘It was my pleasure, Lincoln. I’m glad everything worked out for you…’

---

Lincoln’s case was brought forward from February next year, to the following morning, after Reed interviewed and charged Drew with both murders, and with perverting the course of justice. Drew was remanded to court this morning.

Lincoln’s case was up first. When he finally had his day in court, it was nothing like what he feared it would be. The hearing took only minutes for the police to drop all charges against Lincoln.

The magistrate promptly withdrew the charges and informed Lincoln, he was free to go.

Four months ago, when Lincoln left prison on parole, he was on his own, thrust into a strange new world, or so it seemed to him.

There were no loving arms for him to run into when he walked free from the walls that confined him. There was no fanfare, no ceremony, no welcoming party. He was all alone.

This time, when Lincoln stepped from the prisoner dock, as a free man, he was greeted by heart-warming hugs from Valerie and Max Olsen, and Brooke, who wanted to be there when he was released. Even Reed turned up to witness the occasion.

Lincoln pushed himself away from his warm hug from Brooke and approached Reed, who stood several metres away, near the court room door.

Reed extended his hand to Lincoln, as he approached. Lincoln’s eyes fell to Reed’s hand. He knocked Reed’s hand aside and moved to embrace Reed in a firm, heart-warming hug.

While holding his embrace, Lincoln said, ‘Brooke told me, I’m free today because of you and what you did for me. Thank you so much. I genuinely mean that. Thank you.’

Reed’s eyes welled. ‘You know when I locked you up, I was just doing my job, right…?’

Lincoln pushed himself away from the embrace. He glanced into Reed’s welling eyes. ‘I do. And I’m so thankful you did, mate. I’m so thankful you did.’