‘Black, two sugars, you remembered. Maybe there’s hope for us after all.’ He gestured at her old bomber jacket and shot her an ironic wink. ‘That Suzi Quatro-does-grunge look is a turn on, but I still kinda wish you’d dressed yourself up like you used to. Heads turned when I walked with you on my arm, made me feel proud.’

Yeah, tarted up made me all the more easy to catch and pin down, you bastard.

She took a deep breath. Stay calm, she told herself, don’t provoke him, and above all don’t show him how shit scared you really are. ‘We need to talk about my daughter,’ she said, reassured by the steady sound of her voice.

‘But you’ll always look hot to me, babe, no matter what you wear. Do you still blub every night over those old movies? Me Bogey, you Bacall—remember?’

She gritted her teeth. ‘Tye...’

In a soft low voice he began to hum. Stevie’s stomach tightened at the familiar tune. She’d tossed Casablanca out of her collection the day she’d booted him from her home.

‘ You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss, a sigh ...’

‘Wrong woman.’

He stopped. ‘What?’

‘It was Bergman in Casablanca, not Bacall.’

A cloud passed across his face, he’d always hated being contradicted. He made a quick recovery. ‘Gee I miss those nights. But you’ve done well for yourself, haven’t you? A sergeant in the SCS, I’m proud of you Stevie, I really am.’

Nestling into the director’s chair, the wooden joists squeaking under his solid bulk, he smiled again, not taking his eyes off her.

The chain of events ran through her head again. She couldn’t stop it. It was her corruption allegations that had pushed him over the edge, but the tension had been building since the news of her promotion several weeks before. At first his unenthusiastic response had been a puzzle; later she couldn’t for the life of her understand how she’d misread the signs.

What was it he’d said as he’d grabbed her by the hair, just before he’d raped her? You think you’re better than me, bitch? Well I’m going to show you just how bloody wrong you are.

She suppressed her shiver, keeping her own expression blank as she stared straight into his smiling eyes, the same beguiling smile he’d fooled her with five years ago. She realised then, with an inner shudder, how very much like De Vakey’s it was.

The heat rose in her face. ‘Izzy,’ she said.

‘I bought her something. Here.’ His teeth flashed as he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. When she wouldn’t take it, he flicked the lid to expose a gold nugget on a fine chain.

‘This is what I spend most of my time at these days, digging these things out of the ground. It’s a filthy job, but it pays well. Izzy was asking me what I did the other day—’

‘You had no right to turn up like that,’ Stevie interrupted.

‘Give her this from me, will you?’ he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Then she’ll understand. When I told her about the nuggets, she thought I worked for KFC.’ He laughed. To a casual listener it might have seemed a joyful sound, but Stevie had heard it too many times before and it chilled her blood. ‘She’s a smart one,’ he went on. ‘I’m looking forward to getting to know her better. There’s something about the innocence of a child, isn’t there?’

She wrapped both of her hands around her coffee cup as if she were cold. The heat burned through her palms but she hardly noticed. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’ she whispered.

‘It doesn’t have to be like this,’ he said, his voice equally soft. He reached across the table and loosened her grip on the cup. ‘Don’t do that, you’ll burn yourself.’ His touch seared her skin more than the hot cup. She moved her hands away and stored them safely in her lap.

‘I agreed to this meeting to give you a way out, to save you grief, work out a compromise. I’ve got money now, Stevie, enough to get the best lawyer in the state on my side.’

He’d agreed to this meeting? He’d bloody asked for it! Under the table she twisted at a paper serviette, spearing it with her fingers, shredding it.

As he talked she listened for the telltale inflection in his voice, the precursor to one of his violent mood swings, but his tone continued in an easy calm. ‘My lawyer rang me this morning and drew my attention to the Sunday paper.’ There was a paper lying on the vacant table next to them. He reached for it and turned to page three. ‘I could almost hear him rubbing his hands together with glee on the other end of the phone. “I mean, really,” he said, “a dangerous, demanding job like she’s got, what hope has she of being granted full custody.” Then when I mentioned your loopy mother, who’d also be caring for Izzy, he almost came in his pants. I mean gee, your poor old mum. When I told him to leave her out of this, he told me to back off. If I wanted my daughter back I had to leave this side of things to him.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m really sorry about this.’

‘Yeah, you sound it.’ Stevie snatched the paper from him and read the headline. ‘Police re-enactment hopes to jog memories and catch impotent killer.’

‘We took the nameless female detective mentioned to be you—were we right?’

‘Don’t go there, Tye. None of your business.’

‘Monty needs his head examined. Advertising the reenactment in the paper like this will attract every sicko in Perth—or did this come after his suspension?’ Tye paused. He briefly broke eye contact. ‘And how is the old red-headed son-of-a-gun anyway?’

Tye’s jealousy of her friendship with Monty had always been a touchy point in their relationship, even when things were going well. She wondered how he knew about the suspension.

‘Was drinking with some old cop pals yesterday,’ Tye said as if she’d voiced her question aloud. Perhaps he’d seen the suspicion in her face. ‘They said he’d got into a bit of trouble: his watch by the body, off the wagon again, losing files. Doesn’t look good for Mont, does it? Though I can hardly blame him for doing the little cow in, she didn’t half give him grief.’

Stevie took the teaspoon and stabbed at the froth of her cappuccino. ‘Your friends talk too much. Who are you still mixing with, anyway?’

He ignored her question. ‘And I also hear James De Vakey’s been called in. Seems like everyone’s onto this psychological bullshit bandwagon.’ He looked into his coffee as if trying to suppress a smile, but she knew the expression was as calculated as everything else he’d ever done. ‘If you ask me, these profilers are sicker than the poor bastards they write about. You’d have to be, wouldn’t you think, to do a job like that? Guess they must really get their rocks off on it. Maybe it takes one to know one, have you thought about that? I’m glad it’s you not me. Hanging around with a bloke like that would really give me the creeps.’ He gave a mock shudder.

‘It’s you who’s sick,’ Stevie said, scraping back her chair. This meeting was going nowhere. ‘Let me know when you’re ready to talk about Izzy.’

Sliding the cafe door behind her with a thunk, she made the mistake of looking back at him through the glass. He smiled and mouthed, ‘Thanks for the coffee,’ and blew her a kiss.

When she got back home, nauseated, heart hammering, fingers still trembling, she found a message from Monty on the answering machine.

‘Stevie, I’m onto something, but for obvious reasons can’t leave a message. Sorry I couldn’t call last night, I had a bit of an accident and was laid up. My phone’s stuffed and I’m ringing from a public phone. I’ve got to go now. I’ll ring again later when I can hopefully give you some answers. Meanwhile, don’t trust anyone.’

She hurled abuse at the answering machine and slammed her fist onto the kitchen table.

***