Jill Jackson - 04 - Watch the World Burn by Leah Giarratano Page A
Authors: Leah Giarratano
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Hospital with leg injuries. The bus driver and two passengers were admitted briefly and released, following counselling. The citizen who tried to assist Detective Hutchinson will be recommended for a bravery award.’
Jill shook her head a little. Why didn’t someone say something about the noise? If they could get someone to stop those drums playing so loudly she’d have a better chance of hearing the superintendent. For fuck’s sake, it’s only getting louder and faster; you can’t have a meeting like this. She pushed her fingers into her ears. The noise dulled a little, thank God. But, funny thing, Jill could suddenly hear Last’s voice more clearly, like it was being miked right into her head. She pushed her fingertips deeper. His voice sounded different this way, though, kind of tinny.
‘You’re a weak piece of shit, Jackson,’ Last said, straight into her ears.
What?
‘And you’re a dirty little whore.’
What? Don’t say that. Jill shook her head again.
‘You’re a weak piece of shit and a dirty little whore, and you’ve never been anything but a failure.’ Last spoke calmly, reasonably, deep inside her head. He told the truth.
‘I know,’ she said. She nodded.
‘Jill.’ She felt Gabriel grab at her hands, trying to pull her fingers from her ears. ‘Jill,’ he said. ‘Open your eyes.’
‘What a waste of space you are, Jackson,’ said Superintendent Last. ‘You’re so fucking weak you couldn’t even protect your partner.’
‘It’s true,’ she said.
‘And you were fucking him. Whore.’
A deep sob escaped her. Jill couldn’t help it. She hung her head.
‘Jill! Stand up.’ Gabriel was tugging at her now. She could feel him struggling, trying to manoeuvre his arm under her elbow to lift her from the chair. She pushed her elbows even more tightly into her sides. ‘Shut up!’ she hissed at him. ‘I’ve got to listen to this.’
‘You should have killed yourself a long time ago, Jackson,’ said Last. ‘Dirty little whores like you shouldn’t take up any more space.’
He’s right. Jill nodded again. ‘You’re right,’ she said.
‘I can’t hear you, Jackson,’ said Last. ‘Speak up, whore.’
‘You’re right,’ she said more loudly, shrugging out of her jacket as Delahunt tried to drag her to her feet.
‘I’ve got her,’ she heard Gabriel say. ‘Just back off. I’ve got her. Jill, it’s Gabriel ... Open your eyes!’
‘Let me go!’ Jill opened her eyes. She saw everyone in the squad room, too close now, and getting closer. She dropped to the floor, scuttled under the desk. Curled in tight. She could hear it coming, running now, flat-footed. Laughing.
She began to scream.
17
Sunday, 28 November, 9.50 am
Troy had a bad feeling, and it was more than just the hangover. It was also more than just the memories of Miriam Caine on fire in his restaurant; more than the investigators who’d eyeballed him too closely at the scene. It wasn’t helped by his brother being out until fuck knows when last night, but it was more than that too.
Why would David Caine lie about his wife?
Not just lie about the fact that she’d died – that, he could understand; maybe he just didn’t want to talk about it. But why would he speak so viciously about her supposedly ‘leaving’ him and Mona if she’d actually died in an accident?
Driving through Mascot, Troy turned left on Hatfield Street, sticking to the speed limit. The library opened at ten, and he wanted to know more about this guy. Only two other cars in the council carpark. Good – he’d have the library to himself, then. There were still five minutes before the doors opened, so he debated waiting in the car and catching the news or crossing the road for a coffee. He got out of the car.
Fifteen minutes later, brushing custard tart crumbs from his T-shirt, Troy stepped into the silence and smells that seem to be reserved only for libraries. He took a deep sniff; he’d always loved the smell. But he
Jill shook her head a little. Why didn’t someone say something about the noise? If they could get someone to stop those drums playing so loudly she’d have a better chance of hearing the superintendent. For fuck’s sake, it’s only getting louder and faster; you can’t have a meeting like this. She pushed her fingers into her ears. The noise dulled a little, thank God. But, funny thing, Jill could suddenly hear Last’s voice more clearly, like it was being miked right into her head. She pushed her fingertips deeper. His voice sounded different this way, though, kind of tinny.
‘You’re a weak piece of shit, Jackson,’ Last said, straight into her ears.
What?
‘And you’re a dirty little whore.’
What? Don’t say that. Jill shook her head again.
‘You’re a weak piece of shit and a dirty little whore, and you’ve never been anything but a failure.’ Last spoke calmly, reasonably, deep inside her head. He told the truth.
‘I know,’ she said. She nodded.
‘Jill.’ She felt Gabriel grab at her hands, trying to pull her fingers from her ears. ‘Jill,’ he said. ‘Open your eyes.’
‘What a waste of space you are, Jackson,’ said Superintendent Last. ‘You’re so fucking weak you couldn’t even protect your partner.’
‘It’s true,’ she said.
‘And you were fucking him. Whore.’
A deep sob escaped her. Jill couldn’t help it. She hung her head.
‘Jill! Stand up.’ Gabriel was tugging at her now. She could feel him struggling, trying to manoeuvre his arm under her elbow to lift her from the chair. She pushed her elbows even more tightly into her sides. ‘Shut up!’ she hissed at him. ‘I’ve got to listen to this.’
‘You should have killed yourself a long time ago, Jackson,’ said Last. ‘Dirty little whores like you shouldn’t take up any more space.’
He’s right. Jill nodded again. ‘You’re right,’ she said.
‘I can’t hear you, Jackson,’ said Last. ‘Speak up, whore.’
‘You’re right,’ she said more loudly, shrugging out of her jacket as Delahunt tried to drag her to her feet.
‘I’ve got her,’ she heard Gabriel say. ‘Just back off. I’ve got her. Jill, it’s Gabriel ... Open your eyes!’
‘Let me go!’ Jill opened her eyes. She saw everyone in the squad room, too close now, and getting closer. She dropped to the floor, scuttled under the desk. Curled in tight. She could hear it coming, running now, flat-footed. Laughing.
She began to scream.
17
Sunday, 28 November, 9.50 am
Troy had a bad feeling, and it was more than just the hangover. It was also more than just the memories of Miriam Caine on fire in his restaurant; more than the investigators who’d eyeballed him too closely at the scene. It wasn’t helped by his brother being out until fuck knows when last night, but it was more than that too.
Why would David Caine lie about his wife?
Not just lie about the fact that she’d died – that, he could understand; maybe he just didn’t want to talk about it. But why would he speak so viciously about her supposedly ‘leaving’ him and Mona if she’d actually died in an accident?
Driving through Mascot, Troy turned left on Hatfield Street, sticking to the speed limit. The library opened at ten, and he wanted to know more about this guy. Only two other cars in the council carpark. Good – he’d have the library to himself, then. There were still five minutes before the doors opened, so he debated waiting in the car and catching the news or crossing the road for a coffee. He got out of the car.
Fifteen minutes later, brushing custard tart crumbs from his T-shirt, Troy stepped into the silence and smells that seem to be reserved only for libraries. He took a deep sniff; he’d always loved the smell. But he
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