Read Online Vodka Doesn't Freeze by Leah Giarratano - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leah Giarratano
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know you guys aren't exactly gonna bust your arses trying to catch the guys who raped the trannie.'
Jill inwardly winced. Honey's cynical resignation that her treatment would be unfair probably reflected the truth. She took a deep breath.
'Anyway,' Jill said, 'I really think you're going to need some help. You've been through a terrible experience. I'm going to check that someone comes to see you within the next couple of days.' She leaned forward, concerned.
'You only want to make yourself feel better, Sergeant. I said I'm not interested.'
Honey paused, and Jill reached her hand forward, to comfort, reassure.
'Don't fuckin' touch me.' The tall woman suddenly stood, towering over Jill, screaming down at her. Her eyes looked crazy now.
Her voice cracked, saliva frothed in the corners of her mouth; she was standing between Jill and the door. 'Do you think some fucking social worker is going to take away all the shit that's happened to me in my life?' she screeched.
Jill knew that to avoid escalating the situation she needed to be calm, but authoritative.
'You need to SIT DOWN,' she ordered in her police voice. 'I said, sit down, Honey,' she repeated, waving away a uniformed colleague who'd obviously heard the shouting, his face questioning through the clear panel in the door.
She watched Honey register where she was and crumple back into the chair.
'Just don't fucking touch me,' she said quietly now, her voice almost dead again, but with a tear sliding through the make-up on her face. 'I have to be wasted before anyone can touch me. Speaking of which,' Honey wiped her manicured finger down the trail made by the solitary tear, 'are we done here? I've got to go score.'
Jill couldn't get Honey out of her mind for the rest of the day. She followed up with the hospital and collected all the information she could, but there was little to go on, and she doubted they were going to get these guys. They'd worn condoms, according to Honey, and had pocketed them before they left. It sounded to Jill like they'd done it before, and that the crime had been planned, rather than opportunistic.
She didn't feel she could send the mental health team around to Honey's home after she'd been so insistent she be left alone, but she also didn't want to just leave her like that, without any help. She decided to go to Honey's house and make sure she was okay. Leaving Scotty to do some paper-work for a South Maroubra break-and-enter, she made her way over to the address Honey had given her that morning.
Honey had a bed-sit in a large housing commission block at Malabar. This beachside suburb, home of Long Bay Gaol, also housed an uncomfortable mix of long-term public housing tenants, pensioners and retirees. A handful of new millionaires had built self-conscious mansions on blocks left to them by their parents. Waterfront was waterfront in Sydney, even when the suburb had one of the highest break-and-enter rates in the state.
Jill jogged up three flights of graffitied stairs, her hand over her mouth to block the piss-stench that permeated everything. A woman cursed in a singsong heroin whine. She heard a door slam, and a child crying. From behind a screenless window, a radio played J.J. Cale's 'Cocaine'. She'd be using that too if she had to live here.
She reached Honey's door and knocked. Nothing. She tried again. There was no-one home. Jill felt guiltily relieved. She had turned to leave when the door opened on a chain.
'Yeah?' the flat voice was also slurred now. This was a bad idea.
'Honey. It's Jillian Jackson. I just came to make sure you're all right.' The room beyond the crack in the door was dark and smoky.
The door shut and then reopened. Honey stepped back and stood there. Jill was supposed to go in.
The two rooms that made up the entire unit were visible from the entry. The kitchen, laundry and sitting area were all part of one room, and Jill could see the tiny bedroom,
Jill inwardly winced. Honey's cynical resignation that her treatment would be unfair probably reflected the truth. She took a deep breath.
'Anyway,' Jill said, 'I really think you're going to need some help. You've been through a terrible experience. I'm going to check that someone comes to see you within the next couple of days.' She leaned forward, concerned.
'You only want to make yourself feel better, Sergeant. I said I'm not interested.'
Honey paused, and Jill reached her hand forward, to comfort, reassure.
'Don't fuckin' touch me.' The tall woman suddenly stood, towering over Jill, screaming down at her. Her eyes looked crazy now.
Her voice cracked, saliva frothed in the corners of her mouth; she was standing between Jill and the door. 'Do you think some fucking social worker is going to take away all the shit that's happened to me in my life?' she screeched.
Jill knew that to avoid escalating the situation she needed to be calm, but authoritative.
'You need to SIT DOWN,' she ordered in her police voice. 'I said, sit down, Honey,' she repeated, waving away a uniformed colleague who'd obviously heard the shouting, his face questioning through the clear panel in the door.
She watched Honey register where she was and crumple back into the chair.
'Just don't fucking touch me,' she said quietly now, her voice almost dead again, but with a tear sliding through the make-up on her face. 'I have to be wasted before anyone can touch me. Speaking of which,' Honey wiped her manicured finger down the trail made by the solitary tear, 'are we done here? I've got to go score.'
Jill couldn't get Honey out of her mind for the rest of the day. She followed up with the hospital and collected all the information she could, but there was little to go on, and she doubted they were going to get these guys. They'd worn condoms, according to Honey, and had pocketed them before they left. It sounded to Jill like they'd done it before, and that the crime had been planned, rather than opportunistic.
She didn't feel she could send the mental health team around to Honey's home after she'd been so insistent she be left alone, but she also didn't want to just leave her like that, without any help. She decided to go to Honey's house and make sure she was okay. Leaving Scotty to do some paper-work for a South Maroubra break-and-enter, she made her way over to the address Honey had given her that morning.
Honey had a bed-sit in a large housing commission block at Malabar. This beachside suburb, home of Long Bay Gaol, also housed an uncomfortable mix of long-term public housing tenants, pensioners and retirees. A handful of new millionaires had built self-conscious mansions on blocks left to them by their parents. Waterfront was waterfront in Sydney, even when the suburb had one of the highest break-and-enter rates in the state.
Jill jogged up three flights of graffitied stairs, her hand over her mouth to block the piss-stench that permeated everything. A woman cursed in a singsong heroin whine. She heard a door slam, and a child crying. From behind a screenless window, a radio played J.J. Cale's 'Cocaine'. She'd be using that too if she had to live here.
She reached Honey's door and knocked. Nothing. She tried again. There was no-one home. Jill felt guiltily relieved. She had turned to leave when the door opened on a chain.
'Yeah?' the flat voice was also slurred now. This was a bad idea.
'Honey. It's Jillian Jackson. I just came to make sure you're all right.' The room beyond the crack in the door was dark and smoky.
The door shut and then reopened. Honey stepped back and stood there. Jill was supposed to go in.
The two rooms that made up the entire unit were visible from the entry. The kitchen, laundry and sitting area were all part of one room, and Jill could see the tiny bedroom,
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