Color of Blood(67)

***

“There is not a bloody thing I can do about it,” Daniel said. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Judy looked at Daniel as he spoke and found her eyes focusing on his lips. They moved up and down, twisted, pursed, and flattened as he talked. She had never noticed his lips before, but now she could not take her eyes off them.

“Jude, she’s thirteen! You would think Heather and I would be on the same page, but we’re not. A weekend with this boy’s parents on Rottnest! I know the father, and he’s a bloody dipstick.”

She nodded in commiseration but could not keep her eyes off his lips. Were they the lips of a snitch? A liar? A man who would betray her?

“Well, at least you were sensible enough during the term break to send Simon away,” he said. “Where did you say he went?”

“Brisbane,” she lied. “Long lost aunt up that way; she’ll keep him busy, I’m sure.”

“I would have sent my oldest to Mars if I had my way,” he said.

Judy nodded again.

“Jude, are you all right?” Daniel asked.

“What?” she said.

“Are you all right? You seem distracted or something.”

“I do?”

“Is it Phillip again?”

“Yes,” she said, taking a final sip of her lukewarm coffee. “He’ll be the end of me for sure. Don’t know why I let him bother me so much.” She stood in the small kitchen alcove of the bureau’s office, emptied her coffee down the sink, and threw the paper cup into the waste bin.

“We should get moving, Daniel. We have that meeting at ten o’clock.”

“Did you injure yourself running again?”

“No, why do you say that?” She turned to face him.

“You’re limping.”

She looked at his brown eyes and then let her eyes fall to his lips again, as if she could divine his intention from their shape.

“Just a pull,” she said. “Nothing serious.”

***

There were eight names on the sheet of paper; three had horizontal lines through them, leaving five unmarked names. Judy looked at them, as she had off and on for the past forty-five minutes. Each of the five remaining names was a senior AFP person she knew in the East.

Seven days had passed since her return to work. With term break just starting, she had allowed Simon to join the Manning family in a two-week trip to New Zealand; to keep him safe, she repeated the lie to everyone that he was in Brisbane. It temporarily removed Simon from her worries. The AFP was still providing a police presence around her parents’ home, though she was not especially worried about them.

Her overriding concern was keeping Simon safe, since the bastards had singled him out rather dramatically. When he returned from vacation, she would need to have a solution. But who to turn to for help? If this gang indeed had AFP snitches here in WA and back east, whom could she trust?

Judy had immediately thought of turning to Miller, since she felt he was too pompous and patriotic to be a snitch. But she was more concerned about whom he’d turn to for help. He was just grandiose and stupid enough to talk to the wrong person, and in a perverse way, the gang had indeed left Judy with a lasting memory of their new relationship; the mere tingle of discomfort from her toe reminded her of what they threatened to do to her only child.

The longer she waited, the more pressure she felt to solve her problem. It was only a matter of time until the mysterious Mandy would contact her. At that point the gig was up: she’d have to start snitching or figure out a way to get help without tipping her hand.

The list of five senior AFP members in front of her was her best bet.

Her mobile phone vibrated.

The incoming number was blocked, and she watched it struggle to life like a wounded moth. Just before it cycled through to voicemail, she grabbed it and flipped it open.

“Hello,” she said slowly, her voice an octave lower than normal.

There was a crackling of electronic dissonance and then a voice.

“Judy?” a man asked.

“Yes.”

“How are you?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s me—Dennis.”

“Oh, I didn’t recognize you. I’m sorry.”

“So, how are you?”

She looked at the sheet of paper with the names on them.

“Things are not so good, Dennis.”

“Is it that ex-husband of yours again?”

“No. It’s more complicated than that.”

“Is it work-related?”

“It’s everything-related,” she said.

“You don’t sound very good.”

“It’s because I’m not very good.”

“Can I help in any way?”

“Not likely.”

“How about we just talk about it, that might help?”

“I don’t mean to sound rude, Dennis, but I really don’t want to talk about this on the phone for the next hour,” she said. “I appreciate your offer, but that won’t help.”

“I mean in person,” Dennis said. “Can we talk in person?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in Perth. At the Hilton.”

“Perth? You sound much farther away,” she said.