“Apart from the deviant behavior in the showers?”
Dan closed his eyes. “Even the innocent ones don’t make it easy.”
“I have to say women may not be too sympathetic to a group of muscle-bound sportsmen who masturbate together, boast about each other’s sexual conquests and even ‘share’ women. They thrive in a culture of misogyny and lack the insight to see it’s not acceptable to anyone else.”
Brody frowned. “Then I have to find inconsistencies in the eye-witness’s testimony. I’ll work on it.” Brody seemed preoccupied, not his normal cocky, aggressive self.
“Is that everything?” Anya stood to leave, keen to escape the awkwardness.
“Actually…” He rose and pushed the leather chair back. “Fancy a walk? I can buy us lunch.”
“All right.” Anya collected her jacket and Dan held it for her to get into.
In the foyer, Dan grabbed an umbrella and they headed through a revolving glass door into Castlereagh Street. A gust of papers circled ahead of them. Anya buttoned up her jacket. Dan didn’t seem to notice the cold change through his shirt.
“I’d like to talk to you about something sensitive.”
She tried to deflect the conversation with humor. “I think you’d already know if you had Peyronie’s.”
Dan remained stony-faced.
They walked for a while and crossed at the lights into the Pitt Street Mall. Descending the escalators to a food hall, they found an empty plastic table and deposited the umbrella.
“Have a seat. How about a beef kebab?”
“Chicken-” Although the possibility of food-poisoning from under-heated chicken didn’t appeal. “On second thoughts, beef sounds good, thanks.”
Brody quickly returned with two doner kebabs and four serviettes. Anya waited until he’d finished wiping both chairs to sit.
“I meant to say sorry about your mother. She must have been an amazing woman. I mean, with all her accomplishments.”
He studied the foil wrapping. “In spite of her art and writing, she was very private. She was one of the kindest, most intelligent people I’ve ever known, and had one of the driest wits as well. Now that I think of it, she was actually a lot like you.”
Anya had a mouthful of beef and stopped chewing. She swallowed, unsure how she felt about being compared to Dan’s mother.
“How is your father handling it?” Muzak filled the food hall but had competition from crying children and frustrated parents.
“It’s hard to tell. He seems all right in the nursing home, but finds it difficult to communicate. We never really had heart-to-hearts even when he could speak. How are you and your son going?”
“Ben is enjoying preschool, I think. I guess he feels a bit confused sometimes.”
Dan wiped his mouth. “That’s understandable, though.”
“In some ways, with both parents apart. Not many four-year-olds have two homes. With me he likes books and craft, but with his father he kicks a ball and does all kinds of sports. It’s like he divides himself into two separate people.”
“Weren’t you thinking about starting him early at school?”
“Right now, Ben needs to mix with his peers and learn to socialize. Being a boy and having fun is what’s most important at the moment. Academic stuff can always wait, but missing out on social skills now could cripple him for life.” Anya took another bite, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s about the only thing Martin and I agree on.”
Dan cleared his throat. “Does that mean you two are getting on?”
“Nothing’s changed. He’s still looking for the right job, whatever that is, and keen on having a great life. As far as he’s concerned, I am antisocial, which is why I lock windows and deadlock doors. He’d rather let anyone and everything in, no matter how mangy.”
“Sounds like my ex,” Dan laughed. “Yin and yang.”
There had been a time last year when Anya could have fallen for Dan Brody. He had brought that bottle of champagne to her home and asked her out to dinner, which had never eventuated. Since then, this was their first personal conversation. It felt strange, but good at the same time.
A loudspeaker announced a lost two-year-old boy wearing a Spiderman shirt and matching pants.
Anya’s heart raced.
The announcer then said that the child was located at the information booth and asked the mother to collect him there.
The pair sat quietly finishing their lunch when Dan ventured, “Any word about your sister?”
For some reason, Anya didn’t recoil from the question. “After all the publicity last year, a psychic contacted Dad, saying he knew where Miriam was buried, but it was another crank. After thirty years, we don’t really expect to ever find out what happened to her, but you still live in some sort of hope. You can’t help it, I suppose.”
“Losing my mother to breast cancer was bad enough,” Dan said. “Not knowing what happened to an abducted child is, I can only imagine, inconsolable grief.”
Anya was unsure whether he had meant to speak out loud or not.
Brody checked his watch. “I’d better be going. Walk you back?”
Drizzle fell and they wandered back in silence, sharing the umbrella. Anya wondered what was bothering Brody. He seemed agitated, not his usual confident, obnoxious self.
“Before lunch, you mentioned a sensitive matter.”
“Oh, nothing that can’t wait,” he said as they approached his chambers. Outside, Veronica Slater paced beneath cover. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting five minutes!”
“Sorry, I had a conference.” Brody turned to Anya. “Have you met the newest addition to our chambers, Veronica Slater?”
“Yes, I have.” Anya forced a smile. She didn’t know that Veronica had wormed her way into Brody’s chambers. Maybe that explained the high heels. Without them she wouldn’t even make it to Dan’s chest.
Veronica put her arm in Brody’s and held the umbrella handle with the other hand. “I’m starving. Let’s go celebrate my latest win.”
Like a lapdog, the oversized barrister obliged. “Thanks for the advice on that case,” he said, and wandered off for his second lunch.
Anya stepped out into the rain, trying to hide her disappointment.
“Celebrating” meant the verdict in the drug-rape trial was in. She shuddered and hoped that Naomi and her family could accept the news. She didn’t know what annoyed her more-Veronica gloating after humiliating a victim or the sight of Veronica’s talons in a colleague like Dan Brody.
As she stepped around a puddle, she thought about putting victims through even more detailed forensic examinations. Somehow, it didn’t seem worth it when all that offenders suffered was an over-inflated bill for a high-heeled lawyer.
For the first time, Anya felt glad she didn’t have a daughter. She loathed the Veronicas of this world-people intent on beating the system at any cost. They ensured rapists and murderers walked free-to rape and kill again-for nothing but ego and money.
With bile rising in her throat, Anya wondered how she could continue to work for and support a system she was fast losing faith in.
10
Anya arrived at the Department of Health Quality Assurance Committee with just enough time to check her make-up before entering. Not in the habit of wearing foundation, she needed the extra war paint to cope with the bureaucracy and empire-building administrators at the meeting. Most people thought of working in sexual-assault units as providing an essential service, others saw it as a career-making prospect and were prepared to cut down any threats to their ascendancy.
