Open Wounds (Harbour Bay #2)(53)
When she started to dry heave, she flushed the toilet and leaned against the cool peach tiles of her bathroom.
“I thought I was over it, you know. That I had finally moved on. I guess I was lying to myself. Here I was lecturing you on the topic. Maybe a little self-examination is in order.”
“I don’t think you’ll ever really be over it. Not until we catch the son-of-a-bitch,” Amelia replied as she stared down at the picture. “You were right. There’s no mistaking him.”
“We can’t let him get away with this, Mia.”
“I won’t let him get away.” She reached into her pocket and produced her mobile phone, pressing a number on speed dial. She recognised the timbre of Darryl’s voice.
“It’s Donovan. I want you to get out an arrest warrant for Wayne Burton. He’s the guy.”
Kellie heard him swear before she hung up.
“I’ll let you know when I’ve castrated the bastard.”
“You’re not closing me out of this, Mia,” Kellie said, outraged.
“Kel, listen to me. Let me do my job, okay? You know I won’t let you down. But I can’t let you continue on the path of self-destruction. You are too involved in this case, obsessed even. If you don’t take a step back, I’ll go to Harris and have you removed.” She held up her hand as Kellie started to speak, effectively cutting her off. “Don’t think I won’t do it to keep you safe.”
Kellie nodded her consent and Amelia embraced her, crushing her in a bear hug. It had been a long time since she had been held—a longer time since Amelia had shown anything other than contempt or guilt toward her. She hugged her back, feeling the tears burning her eyes.
“I’ll leave it with you, Mia, because I trust you to get the job done. No matter the cost.”
“There’s a change,” Amelia replied, grinning before heading back to the LAC, leaving Kellie alone in her house, barely holding onto her sanity and the anger simmering within.
Chapter 26
Kellie screamed, and the sound of her terrified voice woke her from her nightmare. She gasped for air, her breath caught in her throat. Her body jerked into a sitting position, her nightie soaked with perspiration. She trembled as she climbed from the bed and had to grab hold of the wall when her knees buckled. Her heart beat in a painful rapid tattoo. She placed a hand over her chest in an effort to ease the vice like grip.
She could still smell his rank breath and feel his hands upon her skin. Her stomach rolled. She remembered clearly how he’d stroked the chain around her neck down to the golden heart shaped locket she’d worn. A hard yank had the delicate jewellery snapping and in the next moment it was gone, most likely a disturbing keepsake.
She’d never been as terrified as when she’d looked down the long barrel attached to the gun. It had only been a stroke of luck that a noise had startled her attacker which ultimately saved her life, the gun jerking in his grasp as he flinched, the bullet missing its target and grazing the side of her head as it exited the chamber. She touched the scar, imagining the acute pain. She’d welcomed the darkness that had surrounded her as the pain swamped her and for the barest of moments she’d thought she would never wake. The scariest part was that she’d been fine with that.
Tears slid down her cheeks, leaving a wet trail in their wake. She’d had the nightmare so many times. She moved into the bathroom and made herself take a hot shower, washing away the sweat and fear. The hot water warmed her chilled blood and helped chase away the remnants of her bad dream. The first few minutes were always the worst.
Soon, she would be fine and fully functional again, she just had to get past the petrifying fear first. She stepped out of the shower and dressed in a clean grey V-neck shirt and jeans. It was late—or rather, early—but there was no way she could sleep now. The adrenaline still pumped through her veins. Car keys in hand, she headed to the LAC.
***
Kellie stepped past the tall stacks of boxes that held decades of cases from all over Harbour Bay and the surrounding areas under their jurisdiction. Each sealed box contained the collected evidence from each case. She sneezed, the dust in the musty air tickling her nose and ignored the sadness that welled up inside her at the thought of so many unsolved cases. She tried to stop herself from thinking about how many people, like her, hadn’t found closure. This was the place where murderers went free and hope came to die.
Part of the shared basement, next to the inbuilt gym, had been dedicated to all the cold cases that had gone through the LAC. Chain mail fencing surrounded the main core of the basement where the evidence was kept and continuously monitored by cameras and officers on shift.
Kellie found the M row and using the stepladder from the aisle, climbed up the metal steps and lifted a large cardboard box down from the shelf.
“What are you doing here?”
Startled, she almost dropped the box. She glowered at Darryl. His shirt had come untucked since she'd last seen him, a coffee stain on his red tie. His short light brown hair stuck up in tufts as if he had been running his fingers through the strands. Despite all that, he still managed to look utterly gorgeous and her heart began to race for an entirely different matter.
“How’d you know I was here?”
He smiled up at her. “I saw you park your car and head down.” Darryl climbed to stand just a few rungs beneath her. “Amelia said you were obsessed,” he added, motioning to the box she held in her hands.