Читать книгу Dangerous Deception - Sandy Curtis - Страница 8

A camera flash caught Rogan's attention. From his position on one of the lounge chairs, he watched a police forensic officer methodically photograph and examine Liam's office. The woman's careful, deliberate movements seemed agonisingly slow, and his gut clenched with frustration.

'What made you come down to Melbourne to see your brother, Mr McKay?'

Detective-Sergeant Ed Bruin's question focused Rogan's attention back to him where the police officer sat on the opposite side of the table. The detective's partner had been called away soon after their arrival, and Bruin appeared to relish being left in charge. Rogan considered the burly policeman thoughtfully. If he gave the true reason, he doubted the detective would believe him. Rogan had grown up thinking there was nothing unusual in the connection he shared with his twin, but at high school he soon realised teenagers who were demonstrably different from the pack would be labelled 'weird'. Or worse.

'I often visit my brother, Sergeant Bruin,' he replied. 'Well, as often as my work allows.'

'And what is your work, Mr McKay?'

'I'm a partner in a fishing and diving charter boat on the Barrier Reef.'

A spark of more-than-professional interest lit the detective's eyes. 'How come you're on holidays? Wouldn't this be a good time of year for you to operate?'

Rogan tried to keep his impatience in check. The stain on the carpet wasn't huge, but that didn't mean that Liam wasn't lying somewhere bleeding to death while he sat around discussing optimal charter seasons with a police officer. 'The engine on our boat needed repairs so I decided to catch up with my brother.'

The detective nodded as though this was reasonable, then asked Rogan what he knew about his brother's associates and the type of work he undertook. Although Liam had rarely discussed individual cases, Rogan knew that when he had worked for the firm of private investigators, he had often been sent on undercover jobs, particularly in the areas of industrial espionage and missing persons. And when he had branched out on his own, his former employers had sometimes sent similar cases his way.

Rogan explained to the detective that because of Liam's need for secrecy in a lot of the cases he undertook, he operated under the name of Liam Kennedy and used a mobile phone and post office box in that name for his work. He worked from home but would meet clients only at selected locations such as coffee shops. When this wasn't possible, he would hire office space on a pre-paid cash basis for the duration of the interview. As far as associates went, there were only two of Liam's friends who Rogan knew, and they were lawyers Liam had met through his previous work and who he now used for his personal legal matters. Rogan gave Bruin the men's names, and asked how soon he would be interviewing them.

Bruin snapped his notebook closed. 'Very soon, Mr McKay.' He stood up. 'Where will you be staying so we can keep in touch with you?'

Rogan looked through to Liam's office. The forensic officer was taking a sample of the stain. 'I thought I'd stay here. If my brother comes back I want to be around.'

'I'm sorry, this is a crime scene now. Until forensic have finished here I'm afraid we can't risk you possibly contaminating the scene.'

Before Rogan could protest, the constable who had stood on guard at the front door walked into the room and caught Bruin's eye. 'There's a woman here who says she's a neighbour.'

'Bring her in,' Bruin nodded. 'She might be able to shed some light on what's happened.'

The constable's attempt to escort the woman was thwarted by her scooting under his arm and marching up to Bruin. 'I'm Janey Dearmoth. I live in the front unit. Is Liam all right? Good Lord!' Her hand flew to her chest as she noticed Rogan. 'I should have recognised the vehicle. Liam isn't …'

'He's missing, Janey.' Rogan said. He had a great deal of respect for the sparrow-like woman who had taken a motherly interest in Liam when he'd moved into the unit several years ago. A retired schoolteacher, she was an enthusiastic volunteer for several charities, but it was her sense of humour that had endeared her to Liam and Rogan. She'd once told them 'I might be a miss, but I haven't missed much', and the twinkle in her eyes confirmed it.

'When did you last see him?' Rogan asked.

Janey thought a moment. 'Early last Wednesday morning. Six days ago. He was driving out when I was working in the garden and he stopped to mention that he'd be away, and it could be more than a week before he came back. That's why I was worried when I saw the police car just now. I thought he may have had an accident.'

'So you didn't know he'd returned?' Bruin asserted his role and scribbled in his notebook.

'No.' She looked at Rogan. 'I'm sorry.'

Bruin looked up as the forensic officer approached. 'Bloodstain tell you anything?' he asked.

'It looks reasonably fresh to me, maybe a day or so.'

A day or so. Rogan cursed himself for deciding to drive down. He could have saved almost a day if he'd come by plane. But his need to protect his parents from something he wasn't exactly sure about himself had overridden his normal reaction to feelings he received from Liam. Guilt ate heavily into his chest.

'We might need to talk to you further, Ms Dearmoth,' Bruin said, 'so could I please have your contact details?'

'It's Miss Dearmoth,' Janey corrected him, and gave her phone number.

Bruin turned to Rogan. 'Here's my card. Let me know where you'll be staying in case I need to get in touch.'

'He'll be staying with me.' Janey's tone brooked no argument, and Rogan smiled. She would have been a tartar in the classroom, but no kid would have felt unprotected while she was around.

Several hours later Ed Bruin flung his coat onto the rack behind his desk and picked up his coffee mug. His progress to the lunch room was stopped by another officer telling him he was wanted in the Inspector's office. With an exasperated curse fuelled by his need for caffeine, Bruin soon presented himself in front of the Inspector's desk.

Short grey hair and thin grey eyebrows added to the pallor of the senior officer's face. But it was the expression there that worried Bruin. The man was obviously pissed off about something. Coffee looked like it could be a long time coming.

'What have you found out in the McKay case?' the Inspector asked.

'Very little. None of the neighbours saw or heard anything, except a resident's dog barked about two or three o'clock in the morning two nights ago. The forensic report should tell us if that's close to the time McKay was injured. That's if it is his blood on the carpet. And as soon as I've checked through the contacts supplied by McKay's former employers, I'll interview his friends.'

'Forget about that. And when you get the forensic results I want you to put them with your notes and give the file to me.'

'Sir?'

'You heard me. The order's come through from the Local Area Commander. We're to stop investigating the case and hand in all documentation.'

Bruin's puzzlement must have shown on his face because the Inspector spread a dismissive hand on the desk, then relented. 'Apparently it has something to do with national security. We have to keep our noses out of it and let the Feds investigate. And that's not to be divulged to the relatives. Your official line is that we're working on it. The apartment is to be left taped off as a crime scene as well.'

The expletives that sprang to Bruin's mind remained unspoken. He'd only moved up into homicide recently, and this was the first case he'd been allowed to handle on his own. Now it looked even more interesting, and he was being told to forget about it.

He nodded reluctantly, and left the room.

As he paced the small office that was their Melbourne base, Vaughn Waring cursed the vagaries of fate. Placing a surveillance camera in McKay's apartment had seemed a shrewd measure after the private investigator had disappeared last week. That was the second time he had given them the slip, but a check of his vehicle registration had supplied all his details. Unfortunately, the inconsistent comings and goings of the elderly woman who occupied the front unit had made it difficult to access McKay's apartment until the day after they'd lost track of him. But using the camera to alert them to any movement in the apartment had freed him and Mark Talbert from physical surveillance and allowed them to concentrate on their own search for the Montgomery woman.

What Vaughn hadn't counted on was the pair of armed men who'd followed McKay into his apartment when he'd returned. The camera had picked up part of their search, but the hidden microphone had captured McKay's brutal interrogation. Then the camera had shown the pair carrying out McKay's body, bleeding from a wound to the head. The intruders had also taken away a case of CDs, as well as the computer tower.

The rage that had filled Vaughn while he'd watched the tape had been tempered by perverse satisfaction as he imagined their faces on discovering the hard drive was missing from the tower. Apart from his ability at deactivating security systems, Mark Talbert had excellent computer skills, and a knack for hiding surveillance cameras so they were almost impossible to detect.

The presence of the intruders was something Vaughn hadn't expected, and he berated himself for thinking that he and Talbert were the only ones following the progress of McKay's search for Breeanna Montgomery. But he had assumed that the woman's attacker was a drug addict desperate for a quick dollar, and not someone who'd got wind of what Vaughn was sure she possessed.

And now McKay's damned twin brother had turned up! Not that he appeared to know anything. But his visit was bloody inopportune. Or was it? Perhaps he had access to leads that Vaughn knew nothing about. Switching surveillance to him might prove more effective than what they were doing now.

Mark looked up from his computer as Vaughn walked over to him.

'Any luck?' Vaughn asked.

'No.' Mark shook his head. 'I can't crack the password, and the email program and protocol has a PGP encryption scheme. We need a super computer to break the code but usually only the military and intelligence services have these.' He shot Vaughn a sideways look. 'You're cleared with both. Why don't you use them?'

'Not yet. We don't know there's anything on this that's of any use to us. I'd prefer not to have too many people aware of this at the moment.'

Vaughn had already stepped outside the parameters of his authority several times in order to get the information he'd needed. But he didn't want to risk drawing too much attention to this operation. Not just because they were his orders, but it would make it easier for him to slip through his employer's net once he had procured the professor's records.

Waiting was something that Rogan didn't do well. Unlike his twin, his patience was definitely in short supply and he knew it. The discipline he'd worked under in the Navy had tempered his zeal into a force that usually allowed him to attain the goals he focused on, and having to wait for the police to investigate Liam's disappearance was irritating him badly.

After pacing Janey's unit all morning, he had taken her advice to get his hair cut and visited a local barber. As his sun-streaked locks fell to the floor and Liam's face looked back at him from the mirror, he couldn't stop the anxiety that grabbed him.

A phone call to Sergeant Bruin proved useless, and after lunch Rogan gave in to his body's need for sleep. His years of shipboard living had trained him to sleep deeply for a short time, and when he awoke, his need to be actively involved in finding Liam became too great to resist. An hour later he walked through the doors of an elegant office in Moorabbin and asked the receptionist to see either of the lawyers he knew were friends of Liam's. Before he could give his name, she pressed the intercom and told Keith Reynolds that Liam McKay was here to see him.

Rather than correct her, Rogan decided to wait for Keith's reaction. As he went to sit in one of the plush armchairs in the reception area, a door in the adjoining corridor opened, and Keith Reynolds walked out, brown tie loosened at the neck of the lemon shirt straining against his massive arms and chest. Rogan still couldn't get used to the idea of a lawyer who did weightlifting, and Keith's cherubic face and overgrown brown moustache added to the incongruity.

'Liam. Come in, mate.' Keith stepped aside and waited for Rogan to walk into his office, a symphony in varying shades of pale green with aubergine highlights. 'Take a seat. Catch me up on the Montgomery case.'

Puzzled by Keith's seeming lack of interest in Liam's welfare, and wondering if Bruin had contacted the lawyer, Rogan asked, 'Keith, have the police been around to see you today?'

'No. Has there been another development? Have they found Breeanna? I thought the family wanted the police kept out of it?'

'Keith, I'm not Liam. I'm Rogan.'

'Rogan!' Keith's head flicked to the side like a parrot's. 'I always thought I could tell you two apart. Well, I'll be stuffed.' His eyes narrowed. 'Why are you here? Has something happened to Liam? Is that why the police are coming?'

Briefly, Rogan filled him in on what he had discovered at Liam's townhouse. He didn't like the way Keith's frown deepened, particularly when he mentioned the bloodstain.

'Do you have Bruin's phone number?' Keith asked when Rogan had finished.

Rogan handed him the card. Keith punched the numbers into his phone and handed the card back. The conversation that ensued was cryptic, and Rogan felt the tension in the room rising.

'Well, something strange is going on there,' Keith said as he replaced the receiver. 'Bruin was evasive and couldn't give a plausible reason why he hadn't contacted me.'

The fact that Keith was clearly worried didn't ease Rogan's gut feeling at all. 'When did you last see or talk to Liam?' he asked.

'I actually asked him to take on a missing person case …' Keith looked through his diary, 'just under two weeks ago.'

'The Montgomery case you mentioned?'

'Yes, but look, Rogan, it's confidential.'

'My brother's life could be at stake, Keith. I don't give a shit about confidential!'

Keith held up a large, placating hand. 'I'm going to tell you, but I just need you to appreciate what we're dealing with. The missing woman is Breeanna Montgomery. Her father, George Montgomery, is a very prominent doctor here in Melbourne and runs a well-respected medical research institute. He's currently overseas attending several medical conventions and visiting some of the large medical centres like the Mayo Clinic. When Breeanna's sister, Paige, contacted me, she stipulated that her father wasn't to be alerted as they were hoping to get Breeanna back and into treatment before he returned.'

'Who are they? And what does this Breeanna need treatment for?'

'George's younger brother, James, also works at the research institute. Apparently, he advised Paige not to worry her father while he's away but to ask us to recommend a private investigator who could find Breeanna. According to Paige, they found evidence that Breeanna is a drug addict. They think she was stealing drugs from the institute. The professor in charge there had an accident and won't be returning, so James went through his records to allocate his work to the other researchers. The professor is a secretive old bugger and Breeanna was the only one he would work closely with. James and Paige think Breeanna got spooked when she thought her theft might be discovered and that's why she disappeared.'

Rogan leaned back in the chair. 'How did you get involved?'

'My father had handled all the legal work for George Montgomery and the Montgomery Medical Research Institute, and I took over his clients after he died. James and Paige said they trusted me to find them an investigator of high calibre.'

'So you thought of Liam.'

'Naturally. Apart from being a friend, Liam is one of the most ethical people I know.' Keith gave a short laugh. 'Which is probably why he got out of law. It's damned hard to defend a client you're sure is guilty, and he wasn't keen on boring work like conveyancing. Liam also has a talent for going undercover and finding out information people would rather keep hidden.'

Patience. That virtue that Rogan found so elusive. Liam had it in spades, all right. Bided his time, waited for the chink in someone's armour to show. Asked the right question at the right time. Rogan could think of numerous times that Liam's patience had secured him the information he needed. But this time it looked as though he'd run out of the luck that PIs need as much as patience.

'Rogan, you should consider that Liam's disappearance may have nothing to do with the Montgomery case,' Keith continued. 'He would have made a few enemies in the years he's been a private investigator.'

'I've thought about that. Can you tell me where I can find this Montgomery Institute? I want to find out what they know about Liam. He would have reported back to them, so they're probably the last people to see him. If Bruin isn't going to do anything …'

Keith nodded and reached for pen and paper. 'I'll phone and let them know you're coming. I don't normally give my clients' information out, but I'm sure they'll understand in these circumstances. Besides, you won't get in through the security gates unless they're expecting you.' He wrote quickly, handed the paper to Rogan, then said, 'Don't forget, Rogan, Liam's disappearance might not be related to the Montgomery case. He's worked on other cases that would have made him some enemies.' He picked up his pen again. 'Better give me your mobile number if you have one, just in case anything crops up.'

The first thing Rogan did was buy a new street directory. If he was going to follow Liam's trail he'd probably need a more current version than the old one Liam had handed on.

Although he and Liam had driven through Brighton before, they'd always been on their way to somewhere else and Rogan had never really paid a lot of attention to the buildings, only gaining an impression of size and quality that spoke of wealth in a well-modulated voice rather than a scream. Big, imposing concrete fences, electronically controlled gates, tennis courts, huge trees, huge buildings - white cement, sandstone, different shades of cream and autumn tones, gardens carefully tended to exude an air of casual grace.

Varied shades of green foliage against the blue sky were in pleasant contrast with the bare limbs and bleak grey that had been Rogan's memory of Melbourne when he'd visited last winter. Buds of pink and white proclaimed that the city was ready to impress with another display of delicate spring blossoms. So different from the brief week or two of Queensland's spring, with its plants slashing vibrant colours into a hot and often humid summer.

The streets were narrow, traffic slowed by small roundabouts, and it took Rogan longer than he thought to reach the research institute. Security gates blocked the entrance through the high concrete fence. Rogan drove around the institute first, getting the feel of the place. A series of interconnected buildings, they took up the entire block, and he noted that the rear entrance, like the main one, had security card controls and an intercom facility.

He stopped in front of the main gate intercom, pressed the button, and waited. A soft, feminine voice asked him to please state his name and business. Careful not to give away Liam's real identity, he stated he was Liam Kennedy's brother and Keith Reynolds had sent him. At his reply, the gates swung open. This cream sandstone building appeared to be a wing of the original, which, from what Rogan guessed, might still be used as a residence. The other buildings were modern, streamlined and functional.

The carved wooden door was locked, but Rogan spoke into the adjoining intercom and heard a soft click. He walked in.

The smiling face of the young woman rising from behind the reception desk froze into a startled mask. The colour rose in her cheeks. 'Liam.' She breathed the name in a way Rogan couldn't interpret. Disbelief? Hope? Perhaps both.

'I'm Liam's twin brother, Rogan.' He made no move to offer her his hand, and he doubted she would have taken it anyway. She seemed more stunned than he would have anticipated. Her gaze flicked behind him, and he turned as a man walked across the waiting area towards him.

'Mr Kennedy,' he gestured to the doorway behind him, 'I'm James Montgomery. Please come in.' He stood aside and waited for Rogan to walk into the room. Rogan was surprised when the receptionist followed them, then he realised that she must be Paige Montgomery. She perched on a chair near the side wall as though she expected to leave at any minute.

'I'm sorry to hear about your brother,' James said as he sat behind his desk. 'It must be very worrying for you. We'll do everything we can to help.'

'When did you last hear from Liam?' Rogan asked. He looked at James, but noticed Paige's top teeth nip into her bottom lip.

'Well, that would have been over a week ago, wouldn't it, Paige?'

'Yes, Uncle James.' The dutiful reply had a hesitancy in it that worried Rogan, but James appeared not to notice. Paige's wavy brunette hair fell across her forehead as she lowered her head, but Rogan caught her expression and got the feeling she wasn't telling the truth. He wanted to question her, but suppressed the urge. Liam's life could be at stake here, he couldn't afford to risk putting either of these two people offside.

'Can you fill me in on what's happened? Keith Reynolds only gave me a brief rundown.'

James nodded sympathetically. 'Of course. I understand how worried you must be. A little over two weeks ago, my niece, Breeanna, didn't show up for work, so I accompanied Paige to Breeanna's house to look for her.'

'Where does Breeanna work?' Rogan interrupted.

'Here at the institute. In the laboratories. Breeanna's always been a little … strange, but she's a brilliant research scientist. When we looked through her house, Paige discovered drugs and a syringe that Breeanna had been using. We were shocked, but …'

'So you hired Liam to look for her.'

'That's right. Last Tuesday we received a message from him saying that he had a lead but it might take some time to follow up so if we didn't hear from him for a while we weren't to worry.'

'Do you know what that lead was?'

James shook his head. 'No. I'm sorry. I wish we did. We're very worried about Breeanna and most anxious to find her. As you must be about your brother,' he added. 'If there's any way we can help …'

Rogan hesitated. This wasn't his scene. He was way out of his depth in Liam's world. But he had to try. 'Do you have a photo of Breeanna I could have?' he asked. At least he would know what she looked like in case he came across her.

'I have one.' Paige spoke quickly as though anxious to contribute. She walked from the room.

Rogan stood up and offered his hand to James. 'Thanks for seeing me. I'll let you know when I find Liam.'

'Please do. I feel responsible for this terrible mess. If I hadn't encouraged Paige to use a private detective your brother wouldn't have been involved.' He shook his head and walked with Rogan to the office door. 'I hate to think what may have happened to Breeanna,' he sighed.

Paige was searching through her handbag, a frown creasing her pale forehead. She shared James' slim build but not his narrow face, and Rogan noted the soft prettiness in her high cheekbones and rosebud lips. With a breath of relief she brought out a small thin folder and flipped it open. She took out a photo, handed it to Rogan, and stood, hovering like an anxious butterfly while he looked at it. He guessed the photo was several years old as Paige's hair was now longer, but the woman standing next to her, arm protectively curved around Paige's shoulders, focused his attention.

Not beautiful, not pretty, with strong facial bones, flyaway black hair and dark eyes that looked as though they held secrets that a man would like to get to know. Her full lips were slightly parted, not smiling, but hinting that something humorous just might happen that she could laugh at. Breeanna Montgomery was a striking woman.

'Can I keep this for now?' he asked.

Paige hesitated for only a second. 'Of course.' Her mouth opened as though she wanted to say more, but quickly closed again.

'Thanks.' Rogan put the photo in his shirt pocket. His instincts told him Paige was hiding something, but he didn't know how to go about getting her to tell him without scaring her off. Diplomacy was Liam's forte, not his.

'I hope you find your brother soon.'

Rogan nodded and walked to the front door. As his fingers touched the handle he turned back to Paige. 'If you remember anything that will be of help,' he said, 'can you please give me a call?'

Paige nodded, looking almost relieved, and wrote quickly as Rogan gave his mobile phone number.

The gnawing unease in his gut stayed with Rogan as he walked out and got into his Rodeo. The electronic gates swung open as he drove up to them, and clanged behind the Rodeo as it crossed the footpath.

Before he could turn into the street to drive away, a red Falcon shot out from a parking space up the road and screeched to a halt in front of his vehicle.