You Had It Coming by B.M. Carroll (snow like ashes series .txt) 📗
- Author: B.M. Carroll
Book online «You Had It Coming by B.M. Carroll (snow like ashes series .txt) 📗». Author B.M. Carroll
She looks around the room, granting Dave some time to catch up. Her eyes snag on a series of matching photo frames on the shelf above the TV. Suzanne and her sons, three dark-haired bulky men. Suzanne with another woman of a similar age, champagne glasses raised, a celebratory moment frozen in time. Suzanne shaking someone’s hand at some kind of official gathering.
Bridget stands up to take a closer look. ‘Is that the NSW Premier?’
‘Yes. It was great meeting her. She’s extremely witty in person. Not at all what I expected.’
‘What was the occasion?’
‘Oh, I just received an award, that’s all.’
‘For what?’
‘Some work I do at the Rape Crisis Centre.’
All those girls can’t be lying.
Bridget sinks back down on the floral sofa. Dave indicates that he has caught up, which is good because this tangent seems like a rather important one.
‘What kind of work do you do at the centre?’
‘Mainly fundraising. I also facilitate one of the support groups.’
‘When did you become involved in the organisation?’
‘Two years ago. Around the time of the divorce.’
‘And what did William think about this?’
Suzanne folds her arms in a blatantly defensive action. ‘Look, he wasn’t pleased, but it was my business, not his. I didn’t specifically want to make life difficult for him, and I tried to be discreet, using my maiden name so there was less chance of it having a negative impact on his practice.’
While William Newson was defending sexual assault offenders, his ex-wife was actively supporting the victims. How did these two remain married for so long? How did they end up on opposing sides?
‘Can you tell me more about your divorce? Was there something specific that forced your hand, Suzanne?’
‘Just the build-up of becoming more and more disillusioned with the work he was engaging in. And, yes, there was a tipping point. You see, he had this repeat client … Unbelievable, isn’t it?’ Suzanne pauses, to register her incredulity with her audience. ‘Suddenly it seemed inevitable that they would all reoffend at some point, because they had never been appropriately punished in the first place … thanks to my husband. The same offenders reappearing again and again, like a conveyor belt, labelling the victims as liars, never being held to account for their behaviour, my husband facilitating their violence. I couldn’t bear to be in the same house as him, so I packed my bags and went to stay with my sister. A few weeks later I offered my services to the Rape Crisis Centre and began divorce proceedings. Everything was handled through lawyers. William and I didn’t speak to each other again.’
A whole new definition of ‘acrimonious’. Bridget is both appalled and impressed. Impartiality is one of the hardest things she’s had to learn in the police force. Hiding what she thinks and feels behind a mask of neutrality, striving to maintain an open mind, reminding herself that there are two sides to every story.
‘So the burial is Friday?’ she asks in what she hopes is a matter-of-fact tone.
‘Yes, eleven a.m. at St Mary’s. The body was released yesterday afternoon. I’ve decided not to go.’
Bridget is going. Dave doesn’t know it yet, but he is too. The funeral is an opportunity to gain a deeper understanding of the family dynamic. The pink-faced woman sitting before them, who was so repulsed by her ex-husband she supposedly didn’t even want her fair share of their assets. Joshua, the middle son, who was bullied as a direct result of his father’s courtroom victories and the only family member to see him on a regular basis. His fly-in brothers, who have chosen not to stay with their mother, which Bridget finds peculiar. Boys, even the grown-up ones, yearn to be spoiled by their mothers. Do they resent Suzanne for shattering the family unit? Would they have preferred that she suffer in silence, live the rest of her life with a man whose moral compass was pointing in the opposite direction to her own?
‘Thanks, Suzanne. We’ll be in touch if there is anything else.’
13
MEGAN
‘Ready to spend the day saving people from the jaws of death?’ Lucas says in greeting. It’s 5.30 a.m.; they’re on the early shift.
‘Buy me a coffee and we’ll see!’
Megan is not a morning person. Winter mornings are particularly excruciating. Hauling herself out of bed in the dark, her bedroom an icebox. Like many houses in Sydney, they don’t have proper heating. Nine months of the year, it’s fine, but conditions are frigid from June to August. The fact that the house is a weatherboard and all the windows and doors are old and ill-fitting compounds the problem.
The crew they’re taking over from are still in the process of cleaning the ambulance. Megan sticks her head inside the rear doors, the smell of disinfectant lodging in the back of her throat.
‘Hey, guys. How did your shift go?’
A few car accidents and asthma attacks, a cardiac arrest and a suicide attempt: sounds like they had an eventful shift. The crew get to share their war stories, and at the same time help Megan establish what to pay attention to while completing the checklists. Medical kit, trauma kit and oxygen kit have all been restocked.
Lucas does the vehicle checks – tyres, fuel, oil levels, sirens, cabin. Once handover is complete, he drives them to the closest McDonald’s. They sit in the deserted car park, sipping from their disposable coffee cups, watching dawn breaking across the sky, yellow and orange leaching into greyness.
‘Heard anything more from that detective?’ Lucas asks quietly.
Oh God. She should have guessed this was coming. Steeled herself.
‘Not a thing.’ Megan stares
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