Chapter 16
Max is sitting at a desk, in a glass walled meeting room, staring at a pin board covered in photos of victims, their wounds, and anything else they think is important to know, including Max’s name carved into scarred flesh. To one side is a map marked with murder sites. Max stares at the board but is daydreaming, when Alan knocks on the open door. A call had come through asking them to attend a suspected murder possibly linked to their case. On the drive Alan said the difference with this victim is he appears to have been there for at least three weeks.
The reason the body was not discovered for so long was the dense bushland setting. It wasn't till a bushwalker decided on walking through a little used area of the popular national reserve that the decaying man was spotted. The decay was only part of their problem as large chunks of his flesh, including his entire left leg, were eaten away by animals. Even his tibia and fibula as well as his entire foot were missing. Fortunately one of his hands was almost fully intact and appears to show signs of being burnt. Alan is the one to check the deceased’s abdomen for Max’s name and while there seems to be something there the flesh is too rotten to know for sure so they agree to leave it for Dr Will to confirm.
A few hours later they’re back at the office. Max was quiet most of the drive having spent the time staring at his hands. As soon as he reaches his desk he’s on his computer searching his brother’s name on internal databases as well as checking social media sites and doing a simple Google search. There is one guy floating around social media with the same first, middle and last name as Heath but he’s from a different country and is nineteen. Quick responses to his inquiries with State and Federal Government Departments confirm none have any recent record of his brother. He has no driver’s licence and doesn’t submit a tax return. He hasn’t existed officially for years.
It was after a couple of hours searching that Max and Alan were called to Barry's office. The boss is mad, a little stressed and wants to take it out on someone. So they sit across from their boss who has his feet up on his desk while one hand rubs his giant belly and the other rubs his forehead. To Max he looks like a cartoon character come to life.
Alan has just finished explaining the inconclusive details about the newest, yet maybe oldest, body.
“Do we have anything? Anything at all that can be remotely considered a lead? Something that says, ‘this person could, even just possibly, be the murderer?’” He says this with a degree of resignation, knowing what the answer will be. Before either detective can answer, Barry corrects himself. “No, let me rephrase. So, we’ve maybe now six bodies all linked to the same person.” He points to Max, “You. Has that got us anywhere?”
Max stays silent and looks at Alan who returns the look and realises he's going to have to speak up, “No. We’re nowhere.”
“No?” Barry almost laughs. “What are forensics saying? No hair? Skin cells? Fingerprints? What are the psychologists saying about the causes of death? Why is he burning their hands? Why the poison? Is it truly random or can we figure out who might be next?” Max just stares down at his hands.
Alan can only shrug. “The labs have found plenty of hair and skin samples on the victims - that don’t belong to the victims - but, so far, they’ve all been connected to family or friends or others the victims regularly come into contact with.”
Barry stands and paces around his office while screaming, “How can we have nothing?! Not one mistake we can use to find him?! How can this be?! CCTV gives us nothing. What about witnesses?”
Max and Alan look to each other. It sounded like a rhetorical question. They shrug, unwilling to speak up in case he doesn't want an answer but not wanting to ignore him if he really wants one. Of course, this makes Barry angrier, “What do you have? Anything? Or do I have to replace you with detectives who can do their jobs? Earl and Carl could get me results faster than you two. Hell, Earl’s been riding me about leading this investigation. Maybe I should let him. I have the Chief Commissioner breathing down my neck on this, you know? The media too. I have to give answers.”
While ranting, Barry doesn't spot Alan whacking Max on his leg. Remaining unsaid between them is Alan’s desire for Max to tell Barry about his brother, his burns, and their theory. Anything that will save them from looking incompetent. Max knows this but gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head and mouths the word 'no' before placing his attention back on his hands. Barry's voice fades from Max’s mind as his eyes review every scarred millimetre of skin on his hands. As unusual as his hands are, they've become normal to him. If his hands were without the scars he would feel... odd.
The last time he spoke to his brother they were fighting; a yelling match ten years of silence couldn't blot out. Heath had never been far from his mind but never near his mouth so he went unmentioned to every new person in every new conversation.
The occasional 'any brothers or sisters' question was answered by a quick, 'I have a sister' with a quieter, 'and a brother I don't really talk to'. The last point often went without further detail and only the most pressing of his friends could free up any information to that end.
Heath was a shy child. Max remembers his brother, during their very young years, not wanting their mother out of his sight even for a moment. Her bathroom visits were accompanied by his screaming and tears. He was three and a half when he realised he could force his way into the bathroom to sit in the corner until his mother was done. Their father put a lock on the door which provided Heath with an opportunity to test the limit of his lungs when he screamed constantly and the limit of his little fists as he beat on the door. Even as a four year old Max would take himself outside when Heath screamed as the patience of his young self was being worn out. This went on until they were six and all through these events Max would sometimes watch and sometimes just ignore it.
His brother couldn't be involved in such cold blooded murder, surely. So many dead bodies. So many broken loved ones and irreparable wounds. Heath’s too shy. Too… weak. It’s not Heath; can’t be. Max can't say anything to Barry about this before being absolutely sure that what he feels is not just his imagination. Surely burnt hands could mean a million things, couldn’t they?
No, he won't say anything to Barry just yet. But the phone he received in the mail? Surely that’s the best confirmation of his suspicion he could have?
Max's day dreaming is interrupted by his right hand being unceremoniously yanked up and to the side. Before his mind is back in the moment all he can think of is the tight grip around his wrists. "The hell is this?" Before Max could return from his dream world, Barry grabs his arm, mid rant, after realising the young detective wasn't paying attention; he sees the burns. Something he had never noticed before. Something he wouldn't have noticed until now.
Max can feel Barry's face next to his and can smell his breath as he talks, enunciating every word, “What… the hell… is this?” Barry holds Max's hand up in front of his own face until he wriggles it free.
The young detective shoots a quick glance at Alan who nods his encouragement for Max to talk. “They're…” Max considers dancing around the truth but gives in and says what he knows will bring hell down on them, “I've had them for a while. So has my brother.” Barry's eyes burn holes through the new detective until he inexplicably calms and takes a seat behind his desk. He wipes the sweat from his brow before giving a gentle smile to both Max and Alan, letting his anger simmer just under the surface. “Tell me about that.”
With that simple request Max and Alan spend the next hour sitting there in Barry's office discussing Max's brother and their scars. Max tells him everything.
By the story’s end, the boss was rubbing his sweaty bald spot with one hand and patting his big belly with the other. Alan was shrinking into his seat with every passing word from Max. He’s been in this business too long to watch his career die but that’s exactly what he’s looking at and now he sits there unable to find the words to defend himself.
Max takes a deep bre
ath and goes silent. Barry continues to pat his belly, staying quiet while he thinks. Max watches to see when the moving hand stops. That’s the sign that he has made sense of his thoughts.
The hand does stop but he doesn’t look up. His softly spoken words are simmering with anger, “Do you know how many people are working these murders in one way or another?”
Max and Alan look at each other.
Alan tries to sound confident, “Sixty?”
Barry leans forward and explodes in anger just as his belly keeps him from jumping over his desk, “Sixty! Hundreds, thousands of man-hours, all of it filtering through you two and you’ve been sitting on the biggest break we could have had. We’ve had the media killing us, not to mention the pressure from politicians weighing in, questioning our competence.”
Max joins in, defensively, “As I told Alan, I never honestly had any reason to suspect him. I would be the first to put him on the board if I thought that was the best lead we had.”
Barry won’t have any of it. “Max! The media has been taking us for fools because we have given them absolutely nothing. Your name is carved into the flesh of at least two people! And you want to sit there saying you had no real reason to suspect him. All these murders, innocent people, and we’ve had nothing except what you’ve been sitting on! Sixty Police! Tens of thousands of dollars!”
Alan feels like he did when he was a new recruit just out of the Academy, in over his head and making himself look the fool. He barely utters the words, “Will you be suspending us?”
Barry’s glare burns holes in him, “Suspending!? I should be firing you and charging you!” Alan swallows hard and fights back tears. Barry continues, “But you may not have noticed sixty police are wrapped up in the biggest serial killer investigation this country has had in years and you two have been wasting everyone’s time!” Barry turns his attention to Max and says with a pointed finger, “Max, you’re suspended.”
Max is crushed but doesn’t respond. He just looks at the floor.
Barry turns to Alan, “You’re being replaced as lead detective by Earl.” That’s a kick in the gut for Alan. “You’re reassigned and I’ll look into demoting you.” Barry gives Alan a moment to let it sink in. “Unless you can give me a reason not to.”
Max jumps in, “It was my fault, Barry. Honestly…”
Alan interrupts him, “Max please.” He thinks for a moment and realises he’s too old and has too much on the line to let this send him off the cliff. He leans forward. “Barry…” Alan has no defence. “I screwed up.”
Barry interjects, “I’ll stop you there. We’ll go on about this later. In the meantime, Max, you will write down everything in a statement and give it to Earl and Carl. Everything. Get out.”
Max doesn’t bother protesting. Both detectives leave.