police databases she had never been arrested or been a suspect in any crime, however there were some parts of her life that intrigued Nelson. He spoke to the aunt that old Sergeant Soward from Batemans Bay had mentioned. The aunt had had few good words to say about Kylie and didn’t seem particularly bothered that she hadn’t heard from her since she left fifteen years earlier. She maintained that she had done everything in her power to care for the girl but that one day she had just upped and left without so much as a good-bye. It seemed like a strange conversation to Nelson and he sensed that there was more to the story. He tried to draw the aunt out and although she refused to go into any detail, she eventually revealed there had been some sort of falling out.
Despite the late hour, he had also managed to contact some of Kylie’s past employers, identified off her group certificate information which had been provided by an Australian Tax Office liaison officer that Nelson had worked with in the past. They appeared to hold her in high regard, however there were instances of erratic behaviour and on several occasions she had taken long, unexplained absences from her work or had quit altogether at short notice. There were no reports of long term relationships with men, although one of her previous supervisors had hinted that Kylie had led somewhat of a broad minded and promiscuous lifestyle. As Nelson sat on the edge of his bed, he reflected on what he had learned about her and wondered if the profile was indicative of a person capable of setting a man up for murder.
Nelson quickly showered, grabbed a couple of pieces of toast and headed back to Headquarters while it was still dark out. He arrived there just before seven a.m. and immediately made himself a large and strong coffee in the hope that the caffeine hit would jolt his tired system into action once again. His plan was to keep his head down and fit in a few more hours working the Fogliani case before VanMerle or anyone else noticed.
He sat at his desk and began to go through the case file, certain that the answers lay somewhere buried within it. He re-read Craig Thoms’ statement and pondered about the identity of the person that he said he had followed that night. According to Craig, the man who he had stalked had been the triggerman, yet only he and Natalie Bassett had seen this mystery man and their descriptions of him were vague at best. They had both worked with a sketch artist to create a computerised likeness of the mystery man, but CISB had been unable to come up with any meaningful matches on their databases of previously arrested criminals to either likeness. Nelson knew that identifying the man Craig had followed would be pivotal in unraveling the case. He made a note to contact the N.S.W. Rail Authority to see if they had any security video that might contain pictures of the mystery man at the Central or St Peters stations.
His other focus would be on finding out more about Jennifer Nolan. He reasoned that her presence at the apartment that was the last known address of Kylie Faulkner had to be more than a mere coincidence. His plan was to find out all he could about her before bringing her in for a formal interview on Saturday. Although that would have been his first day off in more than ten days, he was prepared to sacrifice it to progress the Fogliani case.
Nelson continued to slowly and methodically work through the case file but before long was annoyed to see VanMerle arrive with his usual morose visage and lack of vigour. The only positive in seeing VanMerle was that he made Nelson feel and look like a million dollars in comparison. Nelson shrunk a little at his desk in the hope that VanMerle wouldn’t notice him above the partition that surrounded two sides of his desk, but it was to no avail. Within minutes, VanMerle spotted him and came to his desk. Nelson saw him coming out of the corner of his eye, closed the Fogliani case file and pretended to have been working on his computer.
“How’s the Crenshaw case coming along Nelson?” he asked while simultaneously and overtly eyeing an open email Nelson had on his screen.
“Yeah, good morning to you too.” You cadaverous old bastard. “So far so good. Forensics finished up with the house last night. Today we’ll help out the LAC boys interviewing the relatives and business associates. “There’s a bucketful of them so it’s going to be a long day but we should do ok.”
The Detectives from the Kings Cross Local Area Command, who the Homicide squad was assisting in the case, were known to Nelson and although they had previously handled only a few murder investigations, were capable enough. Nelson went on to explain that the early evidence pointed to the possibility of an inside job. VanMerle spent another five minutes chatting with Nelson before growing tired of Nelson’s increasingly monosyllabic answers. Just as he headed back to his office, Robards and Bovis arrived for work. Nelson pushed aside the Fogliani case file with a sigh and opened the Crenshaw file ready for work.
Chapter 42
Manuel Torres left work at around nine p.m. Wednesday. He had been working late at the Tuff Street’n’Strip body shop in Lidcombe because some hood with seemingly bottomless pockets - Manuel thought that this was probably the result of a successful drug distribution business - wanted a custom built street cruiser ready for a car show that was only two months away. Manuel had spent more than one hundred and twenty hours prepping the cars body for painting in the previous two weeks alone and although he admired it as a work of art, it would be happy days when the hood finally towed it out of the workshop and out of his life.
As he reached his car which was parked on the street, a man stepped out of the shadows, took aim and fired. Two electrodes flew from the Taser gun with a pop and in the blink of an eye, sliced through Manuel’s jacket, hooked into his skin and sent fifty thousand volts of electricity coursing through his body. Manuel fell to the ground in silent screaming agony, his muscles constricted violently and threatened to tear themselves off his bones. After what seemed like an eternity but was actually only five seconds the pain stopped and was replaced by an even more terrifying numbness. He lay on the ground, semi-alert, but unable to move. He knew he was in trouble. Using every ounce of strength he had, he tried to get to his feet but found that his body no longer obeyed his commands. A car pulled up beside him, the engine idling quietly in the night. Although he was in no shape to argue, a large foot was placed in the middle of his back, pinning him to the ground while his two arms were wrenched behind his back. Manuel heard the zip as a pair of looped plastic ties cruelly bit into his skin, binding his wrists tightly together. The two electrodes were torn from the skin of his back but he didn’t feel a thing. Two pairs of strong, rough hands pulled him to his feet, quickly frisked him and emptied his pockets. Those same hands threw him into the boot of the car and slammed it shut on him, leaving him in near complete darkness. It had only taken thirty seconds.
Manuel felt the car accelerate away and was flung about the boot as it sped around the corner. In time he slowly regained his breath and feeling in his body and was able to brace himself with his legs to stop further collision with the confining boundaries of the boot.
Manuel was completely alone and although the situation wasn’t looking good, he knew he had one thing going for him. He reached around to the back of his jeans and carefully pulled out a knife. It was a small flick knife with a blade of just a couple of inches in length and a slim handle. He had chosen it specifically for its ability to be concealed and had hand-sewn a small pocket on the inside of his jeans so that the knife rested neatly in the crevice of his butt cheeks. Despite still being on probation and risking the chance of a return to prison if he was found in possession of a weapon, he never left home without it. He smiled grimly at the fact that his kidnappers hadn’t noticed it during their quick and faulty search of him and hoped that it would prove to be a costly mistake for them.
He cut through his plastic cuffs and massaged some life and blood back into his wrists and hands. As the car stopped at a traffic light, the brake lights of the car illuminated the boot space within. He noted that the cable that operated the boot locking mechanism had been completely enclosed with sheet metal so that it couldn’t be accessed from inside the boot. His kidnappers had done this sort of work before. He tried jamming the knife blade into the part of the boot lock that was visible in an effort to pop it open, but only succeeded in snapping off the knife’s tip. He cursed quietly and gave up on his escape attempts for the time being. He calmly reasoned that the knife was his only chance of escape and the he should wait for a time when he could use it to better effect.
He thought of Kylie while he waited to reach what might be his final destination. He thought of her scent, her pretty face and her slim, tight body. He knew he had something to live for, something worth fighting for and it gave him strength and callous resolve to survive.
After fifteen minutes, the car pulled to a stop, the engine remained idling. Manuel heard a car door open and one of his kidnappers walk around to the front of the car. He heard the squealing of a garage door being rolled up. The car slid forward through the door then stopped. The engine was turned off and the garage door closed behind the car.
Manuel readied himself for action. He decided to attack first and ask questions later while he still had the element of surprise and hoped that wherever he was there were only the two men who had picked him up and not
