Last Known Contact Read online

  With a gasp, Ellie stopped dead, hand over her mouth. Ice poured through her veins as Ben straightened. His eyes met hers.

  Daddy.

  “Ellie.”

  She shook her head and took a step back. Ben strode toward her, hands outstretched. He was about to tell her this was Dad. A small cry began low in her throat and then he was there. His warm hands cupped her face.

  “No. It isn’t Jack.”

  Her legs buckled but Ben’s arms whipped around her waist and pulled her in against his chest. “Did you hear me, Ellie? This isn’t Jack’s body.”

  Campbell put down his phone and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. News at last and so much better than expected. Not for the poor man who had drowned but thank God it wasn’t Jack.

  He pushed himself to his feet. At his doorway, he gazed around the floor. Joni sat at her desk, officially on leave but seeming unable to stay away. Dennis tapped on his computer in the next office. For some reason, Paul was at the reception desk speaking to Mark. Perhaps he had more information about the unlocked door?

  “Everyone.” He cleared his throat. “May I have your attention for a moment please?”

  One by one, heads turned to him. Dennis glanced up, still typing.

  “I’ve heard from Ellie.”

  Dennis stopped typing.

  “About the unfortunate person found in the bay.”

  “Get to the point, Campbell.” Dennis stood, hands on his desk.

  “Well, the news is good, at least for us. It wasn’t Jack.”

  “Oh!” Joni burst into tears.

  Dennis closed his laptop and went to Joni, patting her on the shoulder. Mark hurried across with a box of tissues, pulling a handful out for her. “It is good news, love. I’ll make you some tea.”

  Paul stepped forward. “Who is it, then, if not Jack?”

  “Not formerly identified, but appears to be the missing fisherman. Poor soul.” What Campbell didn’t share was that Frank Barlow had a gunshot wound to his chest. Ellie whispered it to him, then asked him to keep it quiet for now. And he’d do anything for Ellie.

  “Right, well now we know Jack’s alive, everyone back to work.” Dennis glared at Paul on his way back to his office. “I mean everyone.”

  Campbell followed him. “It may be pointing out the obvious, but we don’t know if Jack is alive.”

  “You know what I mean.” Dennis returned to his seat and opened his laptop. “Wish he’d hurry up and get found. All this speculation is damaging our chances of finalizing Jack’s project. Although, it might be better to back out and go a different direction, don’t you agree?”

  “That’s not what Jack wants.”

  “How do we know?” he nodded at reception. “Jack might have had enough of this. Too many bad decisions and difficult memories. For all we know he might be off with a mistress, or at the bottom of the ocean.”

  “Or kidnapped. Or lost somewhere.”

  Dennis threw his head back, laughing so loudly everyone turned.

  “Campbell, he isn’t wandering around some forest, eating berries. The police ruled out kidnapping as we’ve had no demands. If someone was going to be kidnapped, Ellie is the logical one.”

  “I beg your pardon?” What manner of man said such a thing about his own wife?

  “Look, all I meant was Jack—who controls a fortune—would be free to negotiate and pay whatever ransom was demanded. If Jack was kidnapped, there’s no quick way to access funds. Pretty pointless in my books.”

  Well, haven’t you got it all worked out?

  “Tell me, Dennis. What do you believe happened after Jack left here that day? Where did he go?”

  Hands back on the keyboard, Dennis shrugged. “I know what everyone else knows. He was going home to change to meet me at the yacht.”

  Dismissed, Campbell checked on Joni, then stopped at the reception desk where Paul still stood. “Did you need me for something, Paul?”

  “Oh. No, Mark is helping me check all the monitors, so waiting for him to get Joni’s tea. That’s all. Good news about Jack, though.”

  “It is. Very good. I’m sure Ellie was beginning to despair.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Out at Black Rock. No doubt with Detective Rossi.”

  Paul’s face darkened and his body tensed. Did he not get on with the detective?

  “She was taken out there in case identification was required. I imagine she’ll come to work soon.”

  “Right. I’ll keep working on the monitors and we’ll make sure everything is up to scratch for when Jack gets back.”

  “Thank you, Paul. I feel much happier knowing you are looking into this yourself.”

  Back in his office, Campbell watched Paul speak to Mark after the other man set a cup of tea in front of Joni. They glanced his way and he nodded.

  31

  A Shot To Regret

  By the time Ellie left Black Rock, this time in the front seat of the patrol car with Constable King driving, the media had arrived. They were kept back as Frank Barlow’s body was loaded into the waiting coroner’s vehicle, their questions relentless as it drove away.

  Ben had protected Ellie, shielding her from the mob as he escorted her to the police car. Once she was inside, he squatted beside her.

  “Okay now?”

  “Thank you. I’m so sorry for Frank’s wife. What terrible news for her.”

  “It was going to be bad whoever it was.”

  “But murder? Oh, Ben. Who would do this?”

  “Homicide will be doing their job to find out. And I will escalate the search for Jack. Are you going home?”

  “I’m doing an interview with Teresa Scarcella. It might get her off my back for a while and besides, she owes me a favour I intend to call in.”

  “She owes you?” Ben raised his eyebrows.

  “Let’s say we have an arrangement.”

  “You continue to surprise me, Ellie Bannerman.”

  “Connor. For now. Ben, thanks.”

  “Thanks?”

  “Yeah. For stuff.” She smiled and he couldn’t help responding in kind.

  As the patrol car nosed along the track, he saw her watching him in the side mirror. Her eyes still had a haunted expression but now at least she had hope again.

  “Boss?”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  Andy grinned. “Got a call. Homicide are keen to have a chat.”

  “With us, or just you?”

  “Funny. Both. Meg wants to see you.”

  Ben and Andy followed the path all the way to the base of the cliff. With a lower tide, some of the rocks were exposed. Meg—pants rolled above her knees—stood ankle deep in water, taking photographs of the rocks. A uniformed officer kept an eye on her from the safety of a tiny pebbled beach.

  The men stopped short of the water’s edge. “You need me?” Ben raised his voice over the waves.

  Meg glanced up. “Yeah. Can you come here?”

  Sure. Love ruining a perfectly good suit.

  As Andy laughed, Ben threw off shoes and socks, then rolled his pants up as high as possible. One tentative step at a time, he waded to Meg, somehow managing to keep his clothes dry. The water was warm and the rocks not sharp.

  “What’s up?”

  “This is where the body was caught. See that crevice there…no, look a bit to the left and below the surface. Two rocks almost meet.”

  Swirling water confused Ben’s eyesight but when the sea drew back a little, he saw it. A handkerchief sized piece of fabric. “What on earth?”

  “Exactly. And that’s the spot the body was trapped, yet different from his clothing. The tide will be low enough soon to extract it, but in case it disappears I’ve taken a million images.”

  “No. Can’t risk it. Give me two minutes and yell if it moves.”

  Back on the beach, he stripped to his boxer shorts, handing his clothes, wallet and holster to Andy with a warning look not to comment.

  He did. “H
ope the media don’t come down here.”

  Ben ignored Andy, returning to Meg with the same thought. The field day they’d have with him in next to nothing, doing what he was about to do. Meg’s eyes widened but she kept her opinions to herself.

  “Still there? Good. There’s no way of getting any DNA or trace off it now?”

  Meg shook her head.

  “I’ll try to get it, but if I drown, please tell Andy to keep my clothes. Smarten himself up a bit.”

  With that, Ben walked into the deeper water near the crevice, stopping every couple of feet to rebalance. Here, water churned around his waist as waves met from different angles. He watched their pattern and waited until there was a regular gap of ten seconds or so, then sank beneath the surface.

  Saltwater stung his eyes and the roar of the ocean filled his ears. The undertow tugged at his body. Bubbles rose around him as he let air escape through his nostrils.

  The fabric waved at him, further away than he’d judged. He forced his body to drop and propelled himself forward to reach for the cloth. Caught on a jagged edge, its corner was badly frayed and ready to come free and float with the currents.

  No, you don’t.

  Enclosing it in one hand, Ben worked it free with the other, desperate to do no further damage. His lungs burned but now he had it. With a push upwards, he found the top of the water and broke through, gasping.

  “Dude, I was about to arrange for coast guard to fish you out.” Meg took a photo of Ben.

  “Oi. Delete that thanks.” Ben was all too aware of his soaking wet underwear and hair dripping all over his face. He shook his head to clear it away as he waded back to Meg, gripping the fabric.

  “It doesn’t matter about my photos.” She gestured up the cliff. “We’ve been watched for some time and I’ll bet you’ll make the evening news.”

  Ben swore. “Instead of taking photos of me, how about phoning Andy and getting some control lines in place?”

  “Oh, I did. He said he had his hands full with your designer suit, your gun, and your expensive sunglasses.”

  He opened his mouth to say what he thought of Andy, but Meg grinned and held out a towel. “There you go. I’ll take my evidence and you cover…yours.” She looked him up and down.

  Meg took the fabric by one corner and worked her way back to the beach. Ben dried his face first, then followed. There was the glint from partway down the cliff. He groaned inwardly at the idea of what their footage might look like.

  On the beach, Meg took an evidence bag from the kit she carried everywhere. Ben dried himself, grimacing as he redressed his still-damp body.

  “They’ve been told to clear off twice, but have the same rights as anyone, unfortunately.” Andy nodded upwards. “Trying to get them out of your way so you’re not held up. Homicide are up there and waiting. So, they’ve let me know.”

  “Well, you’d be happy chatting to them.” Shoes back on, Ben had another go at his hair and gave up, raking it back with his fingers. “Any news?”

  “About a transfer? Not yet.” Andy’s dream job was Homicide and he’d applied as soon as qualified.

  Homicide Detectives Liz Moorland and Pete McNamara were in conversation with the last of the emergency service people as Ben, Andy, and Meg reached the carpark, somehow avoiding a small contingent of media huddled around a camera.

  “Checking you out, sunshine.” Meg dug Ben in the ribs before packing her kit into her car.

  Ben ignored her and waited with Andy near the detectives. “Were you able to arrange for my car to be picked up?”

  “Yeah. Sent it to your mate who does tyres. Said he’d have it dropped back to the station this arvo. And I’ve asked uniforms to check around, see if anyone saw what happened.”

  “What happened is someone doesn’t like me. This was no random act of stupidity, Andy, and if we find the perpetrator—”

  “Ah, decided to join us? Enjoy the swim?” Pete McNamara extended a hand to Ben. A bit older than Ben, Pete was shorter and muscular with wavy bleached-blond hair touching his shoulders.

  “Funny. But Meg has something interesting so let’s hope it was worth it.”

  As Pete and Andy shook hands, Liz Moorland grinned at Ben. “Long time. When are you going to head our way?”

  “Not on my radar, Liz. Good to see you.”

  Liz was built like a runner, which she was in her spare time. Lean but with power that occasionally shocked adversaries, her smile was disarming and genuine. She and Ben went through academy together.

  The four met Meg at her car, parked beside Andy’s.

  “A preliminary look at this tells me it was probably ripped from a shirt. Expensive. But I’ll tell you for sure once I have it back at work.” Meg pulled the bag out of her kit and passed it around. “Much as it is soaking wet, my guess is this is off some high-end business shirt. Tailored.”

  “What was Frank Barlow wearing?” Liz returned the bag to Meg.

  How would he ever forget? The body on the stretcher barely resembled a man with its bloated features. An almost bald head matched the photo of Frank his wife provided and a wallet in his pants included his driver’s license. No doubt it was Frank. Once was Frank.

  Worst part of the job.

  “Black short sleeve polo top. White knee-length shorts. Sandals, one missing. Black belt. His wife mentioned a lightweight waterproof jacket but it wasn’t on him.” He could still smell the effects of decay and sea water inside the body. Ben drew fresh air through his nostrils.

  “So, no fancy business shirt.” Pete leaned against Andy’s car, watching Meg pack her stuff into her boot. “How does a piece of shirt get stuck beneath a body in the ocean?”

  “Be interesting to see if anything is under his fingernails. If his attacker wore the shirt, and he ripped it trying to escape…” Andy’s phone rang, and he walked away to answer it.

  “Until the coroner examines the body there’s little point speculating. I’m more interested in the bullet.” Pete said.

  “You should be interested in both.” Meg closed the boot and faced him. “And the tides. That will show you where he entered the water.”

  “There’s always a place in Homicide for you.”

  Meg rolled her eyes. “No thanks. Not with you hotshots. I’ll stick with my team.”

  Ben covered a grin. “Anything else, detectives?”

  “We’ll take it from here.”

  “Actually, Pete, we need to collaborate on this one.” Liz said. “I reckon Frank’s death is linked to Jack Bannerman’s disappearance somehow. Don’t you, Ben?”

  “Gut tells me so but no link yet.”

  “Got your link!” Andy sprinted back, eyes brimming with excitement. “Whilst you were busy photographing our model here, Meg, an ID came back on the gun from the yacht.”

  “And?”

  Don’t let it implicate Ellie.

  Ben’s shoulders tensed.

  “And…we are going to go chat to its owner. One Dennis Connor.”

  32

  As The World Falls Down

  “Is there anything you’d like me to ask?” Teresa Scarcella made notes on an iPad as a make-up artist brushed powder over her neck.

  Ellie gazed around the studio, digging her fingernails into her palms as memories of visiting Michael on television show sets turned her stomach. Once, his life was split between in front of a camera and a surfboard and how he’d loved his world.

  “Ellie?”

  “Sorry. No, if you’re sticking to what we’ve run through, then nothing.”

  Teresa waved the woman behind her away. “This will be live, so relax and let me do the work. All you have to worry about is answering as sincerely as you can. There will be one break of three minutes, then three questions and one minute for you to say whatever you want. As long as it isn’t about my appearance, haha.”

  With a nod, Ellie shifted in her seat. The glare of floodlights was annoying but this wouldn’t take long. If it helped find Dad, it was worth i
t. And Teresa already had provided the media contact she’d promised. Someone to speak to next.

  The interview touched on Bannerman Wealth Group’s history, on Jack’s meteoritic rise to fortune, on his raising his children virtually alone. Teresa kept the questions to the point, without side-tracking to Michael’s fall from grace and the following tragedy. Not that Ellie would have answered such questions.

  “When Jack left Bannerman House to meet Dennis at the yacht, did he leave alone?”

  “He did.”

  “And did he go straight to the pier?”

  “No. He headed for his house first to change, but nobody saw him there.”

  “Isn’t that strange?”

  “The house is large and his wife was out at the time.”

  “So, you believe he changed into sailing gear and went to Sea Angel to meet your husband.” Before Ellie could reply, Teresa continued. “Dennis claims to have gone sailing alone because Jack neither arrived, nor picked up his phone. So, do you believe your husband?”

  This was off script. “There is no reason or evidence to believe otherwise. Dennis and Jack got on very well and worked together with the same passion for the company.”

  “Tell me about your long visit to London. You arrived home after your father vanished. What was the purpose of so much time away? Was it to do with your failing marriage?”

  “Completely unfair question, Teresa. I regularly travel for my role as head of the Bannerman Foundation. We are investigating the logistics of opening an office in England and this was the sole purpose of my trip.”

  Take that, reporter.

  Without blinking or referring to her notes, Teresa leaned forward a little. “Speaking of time away, you left your father’s company for a whole year. How did it affect your relationship?”

  Cold clutched Ellie’s chest. She wanted to leave. Walk out but in front of a million viewers what would that say? She had to present Bannerman Wealth Group in a favourable light.