Open Wounds (Harbour Bay #2)(14)

“I just hope he leads them to his boss,” Donovan said.

He nodded, agreeing. He’d noticed Lambert’s fearless attitude, and knew just as she did that he wasn’t the one calling the shots. It didn’t sit right with him to allow a murderer to go free, but whoever was behind the order needed to be taken out. A man who could lightly sentence two men to death in such a callous way was someone he wanted off the streets.

Harbour Bay has its fair share of crime, but thankfully nowhere near that of Sydney or Melbourne. Their days were usually filled with robberies, car thefts, domestic disputes, or vandalism. There was the occasional hit and run, or suicide, and an increasing number of murders, whether vehicular, accidental, or intentional.

Not that long ago, he had seen more than enough murder victims to last a lifetime when the Butcher had come to town. He had been secondary on the taskforce. A case nobody had wanted simply because the man had been a ghost, a transient with no morals.

He’d almost killed Natalie, Matt’s psychologist wife, although they hadn’t been married at the time. He remembered the way Matt had looked after taking the Butcher down and how close he’d been to losing Natalie. Darryl knew he never wanted to be put in that position. A relationship proved hard enough for a police officer—the long hours, constantly being on call. He didn’t want to add occasionally being a target for homicidal killers to the list.

Donovan stood and stretched, breaking his rapidly declining thoughts.

“I’m going to the gym for a while to clear my head and work off some of this excess energy,” she said. “When I get back, you and me will go over what we have.”

He nodded. “I’ll bring the pizza. It’s going to be a long night.”

***

Kellie reviewed each of Amelia’s arrest files in hopes of finding a pattern—or rather, a lack of one. She took what Detective Hill had said about Amelia being a woman into consideration. In what could be defined as a man’s job, or at least held the monopoly of men over the years, it would be hard for a woman to join the ranks and certainly not without proving she was just as good or even better than some of the men.

He had a valid point and she’d wanted his opinion. As Amelia’s partner, he worked with her the most, and had seen her in different circumstances and situations, both threatening and non-threatening. She wanted a proper assessment.

Even Kellie, when she’d first been hired in Internal Affairs, had to work harder than everybody else to show them she wasn’t just a pretty face or simply a receptionist to bring them coffee when they so desired. She knew how people saw her and admitted to using that to her advantage once or twice. Like with Michael Lambert earlier. People saw what they wanted and most thought her brainless. Lawyers and cops from other cities were the main culprits, those who did not know her personally. She was always surprised how often they underestimated her. They all left wide-eyed and open-mouthed after deciding how badly she’d screwed them.

She tried to think about the situations Amelia might face on the job, applying Detective Hill’s logic. Men saw women as obstacles, nothing more. Even a woman wielding a gun or some such weapon weren’t considered a credible threat. They simply believed they could work around her. Turn themselves from prey to predator, stalking her, intimidating her until she backed down.

She scoffed. She could imagine Amelia’s response to that. From what she’d learned, her old friend would gladly hand them their balls.

It took a strong woman to control such a situation. Men had more strength. It was just a fact of life. No matter how hard you trained, all it took was one second of distraction and they had you. It would be easy to forget your own strength when fighting for control and compliance. Overcompensating in an effort to subdue a less than cooperative criminal—especially when the adrenaline would be pumping.

She’d been in the same situation once and when you’re fighting against an unknown factor, you’re not interested in playing fair, only in being victorious. But to be absolutely sure, she would have to see Amelia Donovan in action.





Chapter 8



Michael Lambert strode through the side entrance of Dick Coleani’s restaurant, hiding the fear consuming him. That cop scared the crap out of him. He hadn't allowed it to show, knowing Coleani had his back and soon he would join the ranks of the men Coleani trusted most. He made his way past the shelves of supplies. Coleani had made it clear, he was never to enter via the front. He understood. The five star restaurant was his main place of business and his most lucrative although there wasn’t a piece of Harbour Bay that Dick Coleani didn’t have control over.

A man he aspired to be. Even if he wasn't sure he could stomach how he was getting there.

He found the man in the office behind his mahogany desk. He stood when Michael approached. Coleani was not a young man, closing in on fifty. He’d been running Harbour Bay since his teenage years and the hard work showed on his face and in his ice cold grey eyes. His hair was peppered with grey, and his face held a few days’ growth as it always did. His lean body was strong even for a man of his age, though he delegated most of his jobs out to his men.

“Ah, Mike, you’re late,” Coleani said.

He hastened to apologise as he always did when Coleani used that tone of voice. The tone of a disappointed father, which was the role he played to all his men, having watched them grow up within his organisation.