Fatal Mistake Page 3

  Lexie laughed. ‘That says it all, I suppose.’

  ‘She’s my worst nightmare,’ Josh told her. ‘I’m not sure why she hates me, but I have no doubt she does.’

  Lexie lay back on the bed and flicked on the television in the corner of the room. Muting the sound, she flicked mindlessly through the stations until an image on the screen caught her attention.

  ‘Hang on a second, Josh.’

  Lexie sat bolt upright and turned up the volume. An attractive redhead reporter stood before what appeared to be a war zone. Police, paramedics, fire fighters, rescue workers and forensic teams were everywhere. Flames were raging through a building, parts of which were a mere skeleton. Smoke billowed from what was left of the crumbled roof. Debris was scattered across the ground.

  The reporter looked straight into the camera. ‘The nation is in shock today at the unbelievable act of violence that has occurred at the Assassins Outlaw Motorcycle Gang’s clubhouse—’

  Lexie gasped, feeling her heart miss a beat.

  ‘It appears the explosion occurred during an annual bike show,’ the reporter continued. ‘It is still unclear exactly what happened or who is behind the bombing.’

  The Assassins’ clubhouse was in her patrol of Bondi Junction. She would have been working the bike show if she hadn’t been seconded to the Undercover Branch. Many of her workmates would have been there today. A feeling of dread overcame her. Lexie felt her chest constrict and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. The reporter’s voice cut through her shock : ‘It’s confirmed three Assassins members and three Revolutionary members have been killed. One police officer has been killed and a number of others have been conveyed to hospital. Two civilians are dead and there are numerous injured. Names have not been released.’

  ‘Holy shit,’ Lexie exclaimed. A cop was dead. Who the hell was it? The room was closing in on her. Lexie felt sick.

  The camera panned to the carnage again, before returning to the reporter’s face.

  ‘Lex, what’s going on?’

  She finally registered Josh’s voice on the other end of the line. Grabbing the remote, Lexie turned the sound down a touch . . .

  ‘Something bad has happened, Josh.’

  ‘It is a very shocking and devastating scene here behind me,’ the reporter continued. ‘There is no word yet on what kind of device was used, but witnesses have stated the explosion came from the rear of the clubhouse where the motorbikes were being displayed. There is no doubt this was some sort of bomb and police fear this could be the start of yet another bikie war. They are appealing for calm and time to carry out their investigations. Anyone with any information please come forward and contact—’

  ‘Lexie, tell me what’s going on?’ Josh’s voice was worried.

  ‘The Assassins’ clubhouse has been blown up.’

  Lexie drew in a shaky breath, her heart hammering violently in her chest. ‘Oh my god . . . Brad was working there today!’

  CHAPTER 4

  Brad sat at his desk with his head in his hands, wondering how the hell he was alive.

  Besides raw lungs, a scorched throat, a few cuts and a lingering headache, he’d escaped unscathed, which was not just lucky, it was unbelievable. And although he’d been cleared by the paramedics as fit to return to work, Brad was beginning to worry he might have survivor guilt or something weird like that, because the slideshow of horrific images playing on a loop in his head would not quit. He could still hear the explosion, see the violent burst of flames shooting into the sky, feel the suffocating heat, smell the smoke, the pungent stench of fear and death. At the same time he felt numb, like what he’d witnessed today had happened to someone else, that he was a distant observer separated from his own body.

  The phone on Brad’s desk rang incessantly. He ignored it. Since the bombing had hit the news, every phone in Bondi Junction Detectives’ office was going crazy. Not to mention his mobile. After assuring his wife and mother he was fine, Brad had switched it off. As much as he appreciated everyone’s concern, he had too much to do to spend all his time telling people he was alive.

  A young detective, Dave Mansfield – better known as Lurch because he stretched to almost two metres in height – appeared beside him. ‘Sergeant, can I get you a coffee or water, something to eat maybe? You don’t look real good.’

  Brad shook his head. He hadn’t eaten in he didn’t know how long. And, for the first time in a long time, he could honestly say he wasn’t hungry.

  ‘Actually, a glass of water would be good, mate,’ he said. It was going to be a long night and his head was starting to pound now. He would need all the help he could get to push through it. ‘Panadol too, if you can find some.’

  Lurch nodded and disappeared just as Berni sat down at Lexie’s desk opposite Brad. He noticed her complexion was paler than usual and mascara was smudged under her eyes. He wondered why, since she had been in the bathroom for ages, she hadn’t cleaned herself up.

  ‘I’m sick. I need to go home.’

  Where had this come from? She hadn’t been sick earlier. Was she traumatised? Then it twigged – Berni was trying to make herself look as bad as possible to support her claim of being sick. Brad stared at her in disbelief.

  ‘I’m sick,’ Berni said, again. ‘I feel really terrible. I can’t stay. I have to go home to bed.’

  Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

  If it was anyone but Berni Kirk, Brad wouldn’t have been silently questioning her sincerity. You would have to be made of stone not to be affected by what they had seen today.

  When the Assassins’ clubhouse had exploded, Berni had fallen apart – literally. Brad had been the one to radio for help. He’d been the one to render assistance to the injured until paramedics arrived. Berni had remained cowering behind the police car, fearful of further explosions. While Brad cordoned off the crime scene to preserve as much evidence as possible, taken photos and videos with his mobile phone, and made voice-recorded notes, Berni had sat in the back of an ambulance, crying.

  Though in shock, it was disappointing she had not even tried to help others. It was often said that while most people ran from danger, the emergency services ran to it. Granted, that was their job, but it was also instinctual. If you were not prepared to put your life on the line, you were in the wrong job as far as Brad was concerned. It might be politically incorrect to say it – prehistoric, old-school thinking – but he couldn’t help how he felt, right or wrong.

  Brad chose his words carefully. ‘Berni, why don’t you give yourself some time to calm down? What happened today was scary, shocking. Trust me, I’m shaken up as well, but we are lucky to have survived. A strike force is being established. The boss can only spare three of us from Bondi Junction: me, you and Lurch. Counter Terrorism, Arson, Forensics, the Bomb Squad, they’re on their way. There’s a lot to do, bodies to identify, relatives to notify. We have to interview witnesses, get to the hospital to speak to the injured – those who can talk at least. I have to do a situation report for the commissioner and prepare information for the briefing. We need all hands on deck.’ Extra troops were already filtering into the office.

  Berni’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘You can’t stop me from going off sick, you know.’

  Brad felt his hackles rise. He had been nothing but patient and supportive – or so he thought. His emotions were bouncing around like a plane caught in severe turbulence: one minute he felt sympathy for her, then disbelief and frustration, which ultimately resulted in guilt. But Berni was right. He couldn’t insist she stay. And who was he to judge her integrity?

  ‘You know what? You’re right, Berni. If you’re sick, you’re sick. Go home and get some rest.’

  Berni packed up her belongings in an instant. ‘I said I’m sorry. I know you’re not happy Bra— Sergeant, but I can’t help being sick,’ she said petulantly. ‘I’m not a hard-arse like you.’

  Brad’s head snapped up. He bit down on a cutting response.

  ‘I didn’t mean
that to sound . . . I meant . . . oh, I don’t know. See? I’m all messed up.’

  ‘Forget it, Berni. Just go home and take care of yourself. I’ll notify the boss of the situation.’

  Berni snatched up her handbag and left the office without another word.

  Brad noted the events of the day, along with their conversation, in his duty book. You could never be too careful when dealing with someone like her. He thought of Lexie and the easy camaraderie they shared. In total contrast to Berni, Lexie was fun, light-hearted and self-assured without the slightest hint of arrogance. She was totally reliable, completely professional and took orders easily, yet could also delegate when required. Lexie was the little sister he’d never had. He knew her past, what she’d been through, and was aware she still suffered some anxiety. He’d glimpsed moments of vulnerability she’d tried hard to conceal. Her determination to leave past traumas behind, to deny them power over her future, only made Brad respect her more. Lexie was resilient, a fighter. She was everything Berni would never be.

  Thank goodness Lexie’s secondment was only temporary and she would be back eventually. Brad would rather stick pins in his eyes than work with Berni Kirk any longer than was absolutely necessary.

  • • •

  When Lexie finally got through to Brad on the office landline, she let out a tremendous sigh of relief and fell onto the lounge.

  ‘I’m fine, seriously,’ Brad reassured her. ‘A little smoke inhalation never hurt a smoker.’

  Lexie listened while Brad calmly relayed the shortened version of events, smothering her horrified gasps with a hand pressed hard to her mouth. She noted his voice wavered with emotion a couple of times.

  ‘This is all your fault, Lex,’ he said with affection. ‘If you hadn’t ditched me, taken a better offer, you would have been with me today and that crazy, spooky, psycho sixth sense of yours would have certainly warned us of impending danger.’

  ‘You think? My crazy, spooky, psycho sixth sense hasn’t always worked for me, you know.’ It hadn’t warned her a crazed bikie was about to cut her throat. It hadn’t warned her a rogue cop and his sidekick were going to shoot her. Or was it simply she hadn’t been listening well enough?

  ‘I didn’t see it coming, Lex.’ He sighed. Lexie could hear other voices talking, keyboards tapping and computers beeping in the background. ‘I know I joke and stir you up about your intuition, but in all honesty, I believe we all have it to some degree. Although you’re an exception.’ Brad laughed briefly. ‘You know when you feel a sense of dread for no reason? Or the opposite: you get a positive feeling, like all will be okay? Today my gut let me down. I felt nothing and if we’d stayed in the position we were in . . .’ There was a long pause.

  Lexie was about to speak when Brad added, ‘But it’s all good, I suppose. I’m here to play another day, ha ha.’

  That was definitely a forced laugh; his emotions were understandably all over the place. Lexie felt real concern for Brad. He was doubting himself, making light of the seriousness of the situation. She hoped it was an act for her benefit and that he’d deal with or at least try to process things later, when he got the chance. She doubted it. Brad was one of those cops who relied on black humour as a coping mechanism to deal with the horrors he saw, to literally laugh in the face of adversity. Whatever it took to avoid thinking, feeling. Even though attitudes within the police force were slowly changing, becoming more understanding towards emotional responses to trauma, some old-school officers still perceived it as a sign of weakness.

  Lexie had learnt the hard way that suppressing feelings never ended well. For her it had resulted in a tsunami of fear and anxiety that had left her a shell of her former self. But that was all in the past. It hadn’t been easy, yet she had managed to climb out of the black hole she’d tumbled headfirst into. And she had no intention of slipping back in ever again. She had to make sure Brad didn’t suffer the same fate.

  ‘Brad, no one could have known what was about to happen. It’s not like you were walking into a recognised hostile situation where you would be on guard, anticipating danger. From what you’ve told me, everything was running smoothly, there was no sign of trouble, so how could you possibly guess a bomb was about to go off? You saw nothing suspicious to prick your instincts.’

  ‘I should have known.’

  ‘It sounds like your gut did save you,’ Lexie pointed out. ‘Literally.’

  Brad groaned. ‘I don’t think my stomach can take the credit. If it wasn’t for the persistent whine of that woman complaining about being hot, bored, wanting food and water . . . she’s the one who inadvertently saved our lives. She’s the reason . . .’ He went quiet.

  ‘Are you there, Brad? Are you all right?’

  ‘You’ve triggered a memory, Lex. Berni said something strange just after the explosion. I didn’t think about it at the time, too much was happening, but . . . she said this wasn’t supposed to happen, like she knew something. And she was checking her watch a bit, it was at her insistence we move . . . Is that weird or am I going crazy, reading too much into it?’

  ‘Berni is a lot of things but she’s not a criminal. Whatever she said was probably just blurted out in shock.’ Now she was really getting worried. Brad was imagining conspiracy theories and sinister plots. She knew Brad was not happy about being partnered with Berni while she was on loan to the Undercover Branch and she couldn’t blame him. In the short time the trainee detective had been in their office, she’d done herself no favours. It was common knowledge she was a trouble child, there to be kept an eye on for the sins of her past, departmental offences that Daddy the bigwig had scraped her out of. Lexie was thankful she’d had little to do with her.

  ‘It doesn’t really matter what she said. You were both lucky,’ Lexie continued, resting back against the soft leather. ‘How is Berni, by the way? I take it she wasn’t hurt either.’

  There was another groan and the grinding of teeth. ‘She’s gone off sick. She did nothing to help anyone but herself. And although I’m pissed off at her . . . piss-poor attitude, it’s probably better she’s not here. She only manages to get in the way. When things settle down, I’ll be talking to Casey about her. She shouldn’t be here. It’s unfair she’s occupying a position a more appropriate detective in training could fill – one who has the right attitude and is keen to learn. Bloody numpty, she is.’

  Lexie’s laugh was genuine. The first time she’d heard Brad use that word she’d got the gist of its meaning by the context. Then she’d googled the word and was amused to discover its definition: a fool or idiot who just didn’t get it. It described Berni perfectly.

  ‘Any word on the cop who was killed?’ She was afraid of the answer, yet had to ask.

  ‘Only unofficial word. Jarred Heinz. I don’t know him. Poor bugger. He was only six months out of the academy. Relatives are yet to be informed.’

  Lexie didn’t know him either. She felt a rush of guilty relief, followed instantly by a wave of sympathy. She knew firsthand the devastating blow his family was about to be dealt, could relate to their imminent grief and wished she couldn’t.

  ‘That’s tragic.’ She didn’t dare mention the other cops and civilians who could still lose their lives. ‘So, I’m assuming a strike force is being set up?’

  ‘As we speak,’ Brad replied. ‘And it’s going to be big. Resources are being pulled from everywhere. What worries me is the fall-out. The Assassins will blame other clubs, and the first suspects will be the Revolutionaries.’

  The mention of the Revolutionaries bikie gang sent Lexie cold. She stared at the glow of lights illuminating the city skyline in the distance, and felt a strange but familiar unreality. Her hand flew to her neck and unsteady fingers traced the jagged scar tissue that ran along her hairline.

  The flashback was upon her so suddenly she had no time to fight it.

  She was in a dingy laneway in Kings Cross and Amitt Vincent, a violent bikie, had a knife hard pressed to her throat . . .

&
nbsp; Blinking quickly to clear the image, Lexie shuddered and took a series of deep breaths. How she hated her mind’s cruel ability to toss up painful events from her past when she least expected it.

  ‘Lexie, are you there? I have to go, got too much to do. Thanks for the call, talk soon.’

  Brad hung up. Lexie was left listening to the dial tone buzzing in her ear.

  • • •

  Lexie wasn’t sure how long she sat in the darkness staring out into the night after saying goodbye to Brad. She felt like she was in a trance, though at the same time her mind was jumbled, spearing off in different directions: the explosion; Brad’s lucky escape; the young officer killed; his family; her brother; meeting Rocco and Lucky today. What was it Lucky had said? She thought for a moment. He wanted to go to the Assassins’ bike show to make sure . . . to check on . . . check on what? Check in with some friends, he’d said, but he’d been about to say something else. Rocco was adamant he was not going. Was that because he knew the place was going to blow up? Could they have had something to do with the bombing? It was possible. Unrest and hostility between crooks was customary, thanks to power plays, rivalry, rifts, egos and disputes over drug turf.

  Whenever she thought of Amitt Vincent’s upcoming trial, a sense of dread infected her body. Her heartbeat raced. A tremor started in her hands. How she dreaded sitting in a courtroom and giving evidence against the bikie who had almost killed her, having to relive the ordeal and justify her actions while some hot-shot lawyer tried to discredit her, make her out to be the criminal, guilty of shooting a man in cold blood.

  She had survived his attack and was the only witness. The only person who could put him away for a very long time. She’d worried Vincent might send his cronies for her. And wondered if she would ever feel truly safe again.

  You are not the only cop to put away a bad guy, Lexie . . . get a grip.

  She knew she should ring Josh, reassure him Brad was okay. Yet she couldn’t move, felt boneless, weighed down by a despondency she couldn’t shake. For some reason, Lexie felt suddenly exhausted.