facts to the growing body of intelligence about the distribution of drugs in the local area. So far, the investigation was under wraps. No one knew that the most prominent and well-respected public figure in Katoomba was a major drug distributor.
“What have you got for me?”
These were Pringle’s usual words of welcome, offered to everyone from investigating officers like Dylan to the lady in the sandwich shop.
“Julia Taylor.”
“Oh yeah?” He frowned. “I wouldn’t have thought she’d be in trouble so soon. If at all. Crime of passion by someone young and foolish. If it’d been up to me she would’ve got a suspended sentence. Yeah, yeah…” He waved away Dylan’s objections. “I know you have a different idea. But what those dropkicks did to Dale Rowe was the result of too much alcohol and misplaced moral indignation. They killed a child killer because what they thought he did was a hair’s breadth from what they did to their own kids.”
Dylan shifted in his chair, knowing Pringle was right. Most of Dale Rowe’s neighbors had kids who’d either been removed by child protection authorities or were being investigated by them. Up until the death of little Eva, they’d seen Rowe as a friend and neighbor. Someone to chew the fat with and maybe score some drugs from. But he stepped over the line when he was suspected of beating his de facto’s daughter to death. His dismembered, half-burnt body was found in a field not far from the public housing estate where he and his girlfriend lived. The smell seemed to hover in the air for weeks afterward. One more reason Dylan left Sydney.
Drugs and poverty. The two facts of life that would keep the police in business forever.
“She’s not in trouble. I ran into her a few days ago and she told me something that could be related to O’Reardon.”
“Yeah? I didn’t think she was a user.”
He shook his head. “She’s not. It’s about the night she was arrested. She said she was assaulted in the cells and the woman next to her raped.”
Pringle grimaced, his dark eyes flat with anger.
“Sounds like his MO. Although no one ever accused him of rape.” He picked up a paper clip and slowly unwound it. “Is she willing to make a statement?”
“I didn’t ask her, but I doubt it. She’s not a woman who’d give much assistance to the police.
Pringle snorted. “I don’t suppose she would.” He shot a sharp look at Dylan. “Why’d she tell you?”
Dylan ran his hand through his hair and contemplated what to say. He had nothing to be ashamed of. He’d helped her for God’s sake. But lusting after someone so obviously distressed didn’t sit well with him.
“She was having a panic attack up at the Council offices. I made her sit and breathe. Told me I reminded her of someone. Turned out to be O’Reardon.”
“The only thing you two have in common is your size.” The paper clip now straightened, he threw it onto the desk. “Do you know who else was arrested that night besides Julia Taylor?”
Dylan nodded. “Vanessa Hunt.”
Pringle groaned. “Now, why does that not surprise me?” He pushed himself away from his desk and stood. “Where is she now?”
“She got out of Dillwynia a couple of months ago. Haven’t come across her yet but it’ll be only a matter of time.” He hesitated. “I want to talk to Julia again. Thing is, she hinted at something to do with his ‘business’ interests. I think she knows he’s behind the drug trade into the prison. I might be able to convince her to make a statement.”
Dylan felt the searching gaze of Pringle study him.
“She was an attractive young woman I seem to recall. No doubt she still is.”
Dylan took in a deep breath. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“Keep away from damsels in distress. She has a family who can look after her.”
Heat crept up the back of Dylan’s neck. He stood and faced the older man. “I know that. I’m not interested in her that way.”
“You’re
“What have you got for me?”
These were Pringle’s usual words of welcome, offered to everyone from investigating officers like Dylan to the lady in the sandwich shop.
“Julia Taylor.”
“Oh yeah?” He frowned. “I wouldn’t have thought she’d be in trouble so soon. If at all. Crime of passion by someone young and foolish. If it’d been up to me she would’ve got a suspended sentence. Yeah, yeah…” He waved away Dylan’s objections. “I know you have a different idea. But what those dropkicks did to Dale Rowe was the result of too much alcohol and misplaced moral indignation. They killed a child killer because what they thought he did was a hair’s breadth from what they did to their own kids.”
Dylan shifted in his chair, knowing Pringle was right. Most of Dale Rowe’s neighbors had kids who’d either been removed by child protection authorities or were being investigated by them. Up until the death of little Eva, they’d seen Rowe as a friend and neighbor. Someone to chew the fat with and maybe score some drugs from. But he stepped over the line when he was suspected of beating his de facto’s daughter to death. His dismembered, half-burnt body was found in a field not far from the public housing estate where he and his girlfriend lived. The smell seemed to hover in the air for weeks afterward. One more reason Dylan left Sydney.
Drugs and poverty. The two facts of life that would keep the police in business forever.
“She’s not in trouble. I ran into her a few days ago and she told me something that could be related to O’Reardon.”
“Yeah? I didn’t think she was a user.”
He shook his head. “She’s not. It’s about the night she was arrested. She said she was assaulted in the cells and the woman next to her raped.”
Pringle grimaced, his dark eyes flat with anger.
“Sounds like his MO. Although no one ever accused him of rape.” He picked up a paper clip and slowly unwound it. “Is she willing to make a statement?”
“I didn’t ask her, but I doubt it. She’s not a woman who’d give much assistance to the police.
Pringle snorted. “I don’t suppose she would.” He shot a sharp look at Dylan. “Why’d she tell you?”
Dylan ran his hand through his hair and contemplated what to say. He had nothing to be ashamed of. He’d helped her for God’s sake. But lusting after someone so obviously distressed didn’t sit well with him.
“She was having a panic attack up at the Council offices. I made her sit and breathe. Told me I reminded her of someone. Turned out to be O’Reardon.”
“The only thing you two have in common is your size.” The paper clip now straightened, he threw it onto the desk. “Do you know who else was arrested that night besides Julia Taylor?”
Dylan nodded. “Vanessa Hunt.”
Pringle groaned. “Now, why does that not surprise me?” He pushed himself away from his desk and stood. “Where is she now?”
“She got out of Dillwynia a couple of months ago. Haven’t come across her yet but it’ll be only a matter of time.” He hesitated. “I want to talk to Julia again. Thing is, she hinted at something to do with his ‘business’ interests. I think she knows he’s behind the drug trade into the prison. I might be able to convince her to make a statement.”
Dylan felt the searching gaze of Pringle study him.
“She was an attractive young woman I seem to recall. No doubt she still is.”
Dylan took in a deep breath. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“Keep away from damsels in distress. She has a family who can look after her.”
Heat crept up the back of Dylan’s neck. He stood and faced the older man. “I know that. I’m not interested in her that way.”
“You’re
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