Lionel fidgeted self-consciously, watching as the two officers approached. Scott lowered his window as the young woman uncoupled a heavy torch from her belt and raised it at them.
“I’m sorry, sir, but this street is closed to all traffic until further notice,” she said officiously.
Lionel glanced into the avenue and saw at least a half-dozen more police vehicles parked in the centre of the street. There were patrol cars, vans and even a truck, all with their lights flashing, bathing the street in an eerie glow. As the young officer played her beam over Lionel, he leaned towards her.
“Senior Constable, we need to pass immediately. We were summoned here by Detective Sergeant Prishna Argawaal.”
Though the officer’s expression remained blank, one eyebrow flicked perceptibly.
She glanced across at her colleague who was also eyeing Lionel suspiciously. Lifting the microphone from his shoulder clasp, he pressed the transmit button. Neither Scott or Lionel could hear what he was saying.
A garbled voice came back over the handheld. His blank expression faltered and he seemed to regard Lionel with surprise. Nodding once at his young colleague, she turned and peered at Lionel. Her expression was one of shocked recognition. For his part, Scott glanced repeatedly between her and Lionel in confusion.
“You can pass through, Mr. Broadbent,” she said with something akin to reverence. “D.S. Argawaal is on scene at Number 5. She’ll escort you in.”
Stepping aside, she ushered the van through. Scott took his cue and crept forward slowly, nodding at both officers.
“What just happened then?” he quizzed Lionel in an incredulous, high-pitched tone.
“Apparently thirty years on the force still carries some weight,” he answered awkwardly.
Scott eyeballed him as they continued but said nothing.
The property at Number 5 was a beehive of activity, with dozens of uniformed and plainclothes officers swarming over the house which had been illuminated from the front lawn by two powerful lighting arrays.
As Scott parked the van, Lionel spied Prishna coming towards them through the gate. He opened the door and stepped down. Prishna nodded at him silently.
“Mr. Broadbent, sir,” she said grimly, offering her hand to Lionel. “I ahhh…it seems Casey was right. She was right all along. She’s made a significant discovery in there.” Prishna rubbed her brow in bewilderment.
Lionel looked over her shoulder at the house. “You’ve confirmed it?”
Prishna nodded. “It’s big. It’s very big.”
Scott emerged from the far side of the van and scanned the street, searching among the myriad vehicles for one in particular. Lionel followed Scott’s gaze along the street.
There was no sign of Casey’s car.
“Casey told me it was Francis Arlo. Dr. Francis Arlo,” he worried. “She was in trouble. He was in there in the house with her.”
Prishna held out her hands.
“There’s no one here now but we’ve got several patrols out looking for them. We’ve had reports come in that two cars were seen heading east along Cotham Road within the past hour.”
Lionel glanced at a cluster of personnel, who were milling around the laneway entrance beside the house. Suddenly, they parted to allow a large tow truck to emerge into the street. As the entire length of the vehicle came into view, his jaw slackened. Sitting on its back, covered in a thin layer of dust, was a navy blue Audi coupe.
“Jesus,” Scott whispered as the tow truck rounded a patrol car and trundled along the street in front of them. Lionel couldn’t speak. He could only watch as the manifestation of Casey’s nightmares passed by him.
A uniformed constable approached Prishna from the front of the house holding up the microphone of a handheld radio.
“Prishna!” he called urgently. “Central just advised us of reports of a car being abandoned on the Burke Road overpass for the Eastern. Sounds like it’s been pretty banged up.”
Scott and Lionel glared at each other then turned away from Prishna.
“Route the patrols to that location immediately!” she ordered.
Scott fired up the van’s engine as Lionel climbed in and slammed his door shut.
Prishna reached out to signal Lionel to wait, but the officer tapped her shoulder.
“You’ve got another problem. The Feds are inbound. They’re pushing to take over the scene.”
Prishna gnashed her teeth. “Get me Whittaker immediately. The Feds are a part of the problem.”
“Mr. Broadbent! Please wait!”
Lionel shook his head. “You’ve got your work cut out for you. I need to find my granddaughter.”
The van jerked violently, completing a one hundred and eighty degree turn. Then it tore off toward the intersection.
___
The crumpled BMW lay on its side at the bottom of a hill below the roadway. Smoke poured from the engine compartment. Sparks crackled inside the cabin while number of small spot fires had erupted around the wreck, but were already dying as a light rain began to fall.
Supporting her injured shoulder, Casey hobbled slowly down the hillside towards the car, watching carefully for signs of life. Fresh blood began to seep from the laceration above her eye as the rain loosened the crust that had formed over it. Her head throbbed. Fresh nausea roiled her stomach. Willing the sensations away, she focused on the car.
As she stepped down onto the flats and came within a few feet of the wreck, she bent down and squinted, trying to see through the ruined rear windshield. The shattered glass obscured her view. She hesitated, gritting her teeth, not wanting to get any closer even as her curiosity pulled to overwhelm her.
Her caution prevailed and she eventually backed away. Circling around the car, she faced the roof, noting its sunroof had been destroyed.
Approaching to within a few feet, she peered into the interior.
It was empty.
Her hackles rose. She rushed towards the car and looked through the open sunroof. There was no sign of Arlo at all. She whipped her head up and away from the car, towards the surrounding bush behind her and then back up the embankment towards the roadway.
Without warning, the white hot pain she experienced earlier ripped through her chest once more and she doubled over in agony. Clutching her shirt front, grabbing the car for support, Casey hissed through clenched teeth, riding the intensity of the pain until it passed.
Blinking furiously, she caught her breath then stood straighter.
What was that?
She stepped back from the wreck and turned.
A fist swooped in from behind and smashed into the side of her face. At the sickening blow, her body spun violently away from the car. She hit the ground, chin-first several feet away, the impact snapping her head up. Eruptions of light billowed in front of her eyes before the world began to tip sideways. A fresh adrenaline surge enabled Casey to keep the unconsciousness at bay and she scrambled across the sodden ground. Flipping herself over, Casey faced her attacker.
Arlo stood near the car. His shirt was torn and covered in blood and dirt. His bloodied face was puffy and bruised. A mighty laceration ran from the middle of his brow and up over his head where part of his scalp had been peeled back like the skin of an orange.
As her spinning vision slowed, Casey noted his left arm was hanging uselessly at his side. Evidently, it had been torn from the shoulder as his car crashed through the barrier fence.
Steadying himself against the car, Arlo panted heavily, his once handsome face dripping sweat and blood. He started towards Casey but he couldn’t maintain his balance. He slipped on the muddy ground and yelped in pain. All at once, the fire went out from his eyes. He collapsed to his knees several feet from her, crying out as his ruined arm slapped the ground.
“I’ve always liked you, Casey,” he slurred through a bloodied grin. “Of all the candidates I’ve ever known, I thought you were the most deserving. In fact, I would have done anything to ensure you received that
gift inside you. I did…in the end.”
As quickly as his grin had appeared, his face morphed into a mask of anger. “You could have just lived your life!” he screamed. “We gave you a second chance!”
Casey blinked at the pathetic character in front of her.
Fedele’s assistant surgeon.
Saskia’s killer.
“You know…she wasn’t actually dead…when we took her heart,” he continued, his voice quivering on the edge of madness.
Casey’s eyes bulged in horror.
“She could have lived…had I allowed her to… ”
Casey staggered where she stood and she dropped to her knees. The pain in her chest blossomed again, taking her breath away and she clutched at the collar of her shirt.
“From the moment you gave me her heart,” she retorted. “You gave me her memories. Her last hours.”
Arlo glared incredulously at her. She began to shake uncontrollably.
“She found you out, didn’t she? You were looking for asylum seekers to harvest organs from and Saskia found out what you were doing. And you killed her for it!” She stabbed her finger directly at him. “You did it all, you bastard!”
Incredibly, Arlo’s lips turned up in a bitter smile. He shook his head.
“I underestimated her. I thought the money I offered her would be enough to…convince her…just like the others. She wouldn’t be convinced. So I had to act.”
“The money?” Casey hissed incredulously.
Arlo raised his head and looked at her drunkenly. “Y-you have no idea how b-big this is.”
Suddenly, Casey sprang to her knees and snarled as she rushed him, grabbing him by the throat. She no longer feared for her safety and Arlo was too spent to retaliate. She glowered at him, piercing deep into his blank eyes. For a fleeting moment, a vision of the boy in the photograph from the house flashed before her eyes and she gasped, seeing the child’s features in Arlo’s face here and now.
“Who was Davich?” she snarled, snapping his neck like a rag doll.
Arlo’s expression melted into a twisted grin that conveyed agony and insanity in equal measure.
“Family,” he gurgled. “A dear and…overly trusting uncle. Easy to manipulate and dispose of.”
Something snapped in Casey’s head as she battled to comprehend Arlo’s horrific admission. “Who’s in this with you?” she screamed. “Elyria? Sonmez? Tell me!”
Arlo cackled as Casey tightened her grip around his neck, choking off his voice.
Francis Arlo no longer cared. That which he had feared for so long—being discovered—was now happening. He resigned himself to it. The only thing that surprised him was that it was Casey Schillinge who had uncovered it.
Fedele’s star patient. One of their greatest successes.
“Elyria…was just a means to an end,” he wheezed. “It got us the access we needed to the best meat. And S-Sonmez?” Arlo chuckled bitterly at the name, then grimaced as he twisted his neck in a vain attempt to loosen it from Casey’s grip. “H-he was the real genius,” Arlo continued. “The boss and he go way back. Afghanistan was where it all began. Harvesting organs from the battlefield, he called it. Jarsayah Sonmez was his fixer, able to secure the best clients. Wealthy, fat millionaires who were desperate for replacement organs because they had trashed their own. For the right price…we made that happen.”
Casey struggled to take in Arlo’s horrific revelations.
The battlefield? Afghanistan?
A memory flashed before her eyes.
Two soldiers, adorned in heavy field gear, embracing one another in the desert.
As Arlo sank further in her grip, Casey spat on him and shoved him backwards. He crumpled to ground, howling in agony.
“Who’s ‘we’?!” she screamed, glaring at him as he struggled on the ground in front of her.
She didn’t have to ask the question. She already knew the answer. But she wanted to hear it from him. She wanted Arlo to speak the name out loud.
“Who’s we!?”
Arlo curled up into a ball and began wailing uncontrollably. He had fallen over the edge, into an abyss of madness.
He snapped his head up to stare at her but, as he pointed his finger, Casey realised that he wasn’t looking at her at all.
He was looking past her.
Casey spun around and looked up to see a lone figure shrouded in silhouette from the street lamps behind them.
He was holding a gun.
A flash from the nightmare…
“Boss!” Arlo howled before descending into a fit of coughing.
Casey’s eyes grew wide. She scrambled across the ground in a desperate attempt to get to her feet. The stranger raised the gun and a single shot rang out into the night. Casey grunted as the bullet smashed through her collar bone sending blood and tissue cascading up and over her face. The impact lifted her off her feet, throwing her backwards where she sprawled on the ground.
She was helpless, unable to move. The pain was so intense that it stole her ability to scream. The world began to spin and she felt herself being sucked towards the edge of darkness.
Her head lolled back and she could see Arlo sprawled like a rag doll on the ground.
His head was turned towards her. The crazed smile was plastered on his face but he gazed at her with lifeless eyes as a powerful geyser of red fountained from the side of his neck.
Casey looked back to see a hulking figure standing over her, pointing the gun at her. She was too stunned to make any sound.
She gazed in horror into a pair of expressionless eyes.
In the half-light, he stepped closer, cocked his weapon and lowered it towards Casey’s temple.
This was it.
Suddenly, he tossed the gun over in his hand, grabbing the barrel so that the stock of the weapon was facing towards her. Swinging his hand down, he struck Casey hard above her right eye.
Her world exploded. She felt a pair of powerful hands lifting her from the ground and she vomited as she was jerked into the air.
What is happening!?
Then the veil lowered completely.
___
Lionel saw the Volkswagen before Scott did. As they approached the sweeping bend of the overpass, Scott’s attention was drawn to the mass of police vehicles parked across the four lanes. A pair of fire trucks, two tow trucks and a single ambulance were parked further along while a helicopter buzzed overhead, its powerful spotlight playing across the scene and the bushland beyond. It wasn’t until Lionel tapped his arm and pointed at Casey’s stricken car that Scott noticed.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Scott grumbled fearfully.
Lionel stomach twisted.
The road had been cordoned off with police tape and a patrol car and a uniformed officer in wet weather gear walked towards the slowing van, waving an illuminated wand above his head. Shifting down through the gears, Scott began to slow. Lionel grabbed his arm.
“Don’t stop.”
Scott blinked at him.
“We have to,” he protested.
Lionel shook his head defiantly. “We bloody well don’t! Keep going!”
Retreating from the brake, Scott accelerated and the van jerked forward, its tyres screeching. The police officer stopped waving the wand and stiffened. His eyes bulged and he leapt out of the path of the careening van at the very last moment.
Scott swerved around the stationary pursuit car, bursting through the tape and speeding onward towards Casey’s Volkswagen as the startled officer—along with two of his colleagues—gave chase on foot.
Ignoring a further group of personnel rushing towards them, Lionel surveyed the scene, noting the ruined barrier fence and the personnel standing before it. He looked across to the ambulance, hoping to see Casey. She wasn’t there.
She wasn’t anywhere.
Scott skidded to a stop just behind the stricken Volkswagen and gulped as a dozen uniformed police surrounded them, weapons drawn. He raised his hands and shrank back in his seat. br />
Lionel took no notice of them.
He threw open his door and jumped down, rushing to Casey’s car. His jaw dropped in horror. The entire length of the driver’s side had been crumpled inward. The door’s window had been shattered and he could see trails of blood on the glass.
He felt sick.
A police constable rushed up behind Lionel, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him around.
“Don’t move!” he screamed. “On your knees NOW!”
Lionel blinked at him as a second officer took hold of him and swiftly wrapped his leg around Lionel’s, forcing him to his knees.
Lionel winced in pain as he thudded to the road.
“STOP!”
The officers flinched at the sound of the voice.
Lionel looked up as Farnham Whittaker appeared on the roadway from the ruined fence opposite.
“Get him up now!” Whittaker barked.
The police officers blinked and withdrew as Whittaker pushed in between them, shielding Lionel from the weapons that were trained on him.
“Everybody back down!”
The group complied, withdrawing their weapons slowly and stepping back.
Scott cautiously opened his door and stepped down, holding his hands out as he sidestepped to Lionel’s side.
“Lionel,” Whittaker began tersely, helping him to his feet.
“Where is she?” Lionel cut him off, turning back to the car and slapping the bonnet.
“We’re searching the surrounding bush and down by the river now but we…ahh…haven’t found—”
Lionel’s eyes drilled deep into Whittaker’s. “She’s not here?” he exclaimed, his voice shaking.
“Look, Lionel. There’s a body at the bottom of the embankment. Bu—”
Before Whittaker could finish, Lionel pushed past him and marched towards the ruined barrier. Pausing at the top, he looked down and saw jump-suited crime scene investigators milling about the wreck of a sports car at the bottom of the embankment. A few feet away from the wreck, a white tarpaulin covered a distinctly human form.