Already Dead by Jaye Ford Page B

‘Does he have a wife and son? Kate and Scotty?’
    â€˜He has a wife and child who live in Newcastle. I can’t confirm their names for you.’
    â€˜He wanted to go to Newcastle?’
    â€˜Is that what he told you?’
    â€˜He never said where. He just wanted to get to Kate and Scotty.’ And she’d imagined driving all the way to Queensland with a gun in her face. ‘Did he go to Afghanistan?’
    â€˜We’re still accessing his military records.’
    â€˜But he was in the military, right?’ Or had Brendan read her article and imagined he was at the airbase with the other soldiers?
    Aiden took a second to answer. ‘There’s nothing to indicate anyone was after him.’
    She pressed her lips together, irritated that he hadn’t given her a straight answer yet, recognising the tactic and already resenting it. She’d had twelve months of Homicide cops deciding how much she needed to know, picking and choosing what information they’d share, feeding it out like scraps to a hungry peasant.
    â€˜You’re safe, Miranda,’ he said.
    Except for that – she needed to hear that . His words cut through her temper and started a fresh rush of tears. She wiped her face with a corner of the blanket, cleared her throat, folded her arms on the table, grateful for his silence while she pulled herself together.
    When she was done, he picked up a pen from the pad he’d put on the desk. ‘I’d like to get the details down while they’re still fresh. Do you think you can manage that?’
    The real question was whether she wanted the details to keep running through her head, weighing her down until she came back to the station to let them out. She knew what it was like to have shock and sadness linger inside her, and she wasn’t sure she had room for more. She pulled in a breath. ‘Yes, let’s get it over with.’
    It took another hour to go through it. He asked her to start from when she left the house, steered her back on track when she struggled to stay in chronological order, pressed gently for when and how Brendan had shouted or lunged or freaked out. She waxed and waned between being grateful for Aiden’s patience and wanting to tell him to give her a damn break, all the time trying not to let the process remind her of the long hours she’d spent with police over Nick’s death – crying, being interviewed, begging for information.
    Halfway through, the uniformed cop came back with new bottles of water and a couple of takeaway sandwiches, and left to let Tilda know they’d be finished soon. When Aiden finally drew a line under his notes, Jax stretched her neck side-to-side, a ripple of cracks popping down her spine.
    â€˜I’d like to talk to you again when we’ve finished at the scene and completed the witness statements,’ he said. ‘Canyou come in tomorrow afternoon? It’ll give you a chance to add anything else you might remember.’
    â€˜I was hoping to forget it.’
    He nodded – empathetic but insistent. ‘I know you must want to put it behind you but we need to wrap it up properly.’
    She thought of the past year, wondering how far they’d get with the wrapping up on this one.
    The blanket was still around her shoulders as Aiden walked her downstairs and swung open the door to the foyer.
    â€˜Mummy!’
    Zoe . Freckles and gap-toothed and soft, brown curls. Dragging Tilda across the waiting area, both of them wearing long, bright scarves and strings of Tilda’s customary beads.
    Jax dropped to her knees and caught her daughter in her arms. Hot tears welled behind her lids and she squeezed her eyes tight, trying to keep them from Zoe. She didn’t need to see her mother like this. Not again.

12
    It was dark and quiet on the streets of Newcastle as Tilda drove a familiar path home, over the headland and past a long stretch of beach.
    â€˜And