have been more only we’d had a lot of building done at the vineyard and then Dad took a holiday in Australia.”
“From the account I read this morning, your father’s plane went up in flames. Am I right?”
“The scenarios were identical, though the air-accident inspectors tried to make out that the fuel line fractured near the intake. Yet the engineer swore the fuel line was new and the extinguishers should have controlled the fire, from the amount of leakage there was. I believed him. He wouldn’t have short-changed my father—not a valuable customer like him. If he’d been shoddy in his work, Frank Kovacs…” she tilted her chin at Max as she said her father’s name “…wouldn’t have kept going back. Dad expected the best and he usually got it. That’s why he laughed when I told him about the dream, the warning. He didn’t need it. All the angles had already been covered and he thought nothing could go wrong. Now I find he wasn’t as confident as he made out, otherwise he would have taken Carla with him.”
“Why didn’t you tell someone?” he asked, then shook his head. He already knew Maggie’s answer. He didn’t need to be a mind reader for that.
“Just who do you think would have listened, after the number Gorman did on me?” She hung her head, and her voice when she spoke again was gruff and teary. “Besides, I had no proof. Nothing to give anyone except that it was too much of a coincidence. Too easy. You can see it, can’t you? The ditching of the other plane made it the perfect setup for anyone who wanted to harm Dad.”
Max was no great believer in coincidence. More often than not some manipulation was involved. “What about enemies?”
Maggie lifted her head a little, looking at him from under her lashes. There was a softness in her eyes he’d never noticed before. They reflected hope and displayed a vulnerability he hadn’t expected, just because he’d taken a little interest in her theory.
“He had none, that I know of. But then, nobody gives away all their secrets. And Dad played his hand pretty close to his chest.” Unconsciously, she grabbed Max’s lapel, as if hanging on to the shred of hope he’d given her.
Max knew he was going to let her down.
He felt a sudden compulsion to kick ass. Gorman’s in particular. For the sake of a laugh Gorman had let a case go begging, left it incomplete. Max laid his own success as a cop on his instinct for sniffing out things that weren’t quite as they appeared. He’d caught a scent as Maggie spoke, a faint one. What good would it do to inform her there was a chance she could be right? Fifteen months down the track they were looking at a trail that was cold as ice and had been trampled so heavily it would be unrecognizable.
Much as he’d love to help Maggie out by digging into the particulars of her father’s death, he had more immediate problems. Like the woman in the drawing. Did she exist? If so, who was she? And was she alive?
It was Maggie who’d said, “Maybe it’s not too late.” Well, he’d have to see about that. An idea clicked into his mind as quickly as fingers snapping. Damned if he hadn’t come up with a way to knock off two birds with one stone!
“Any minute now,” said Jo, swiveling around to face Maggie. “It’s just coming up, next street on the right.”
She’d picked them up at Aotea Square in an unmarked police car. Speculation was rife in Jo’s eyes. They’d narrowed when Max and Maggie strolled up together, but she’d made no comment. She’d just handed over the driving to Max and taken the seat beside him.
“Where are we? I don’t recognize the area.” The inner city suburb they drove through boasted a plethora of older houses, mostly standing in large gardens untrammeled by the recent rush to subdivide and squeeze in another house. The area looked like old money and the professions.
“It’s just off Mountain Road. Haven’t you been this way before?” Max asked, in an offhand manner at variance with the glitter in his eyes through the driver’s mirror.
“I once went to a hospital there.”
Max signaled, took a right and slowed down at the second building on the left. “This one?” He nodded toward the large squat villa, glowing in a mixture of pastels that aped the latest trends.
To Maggie it looked like a blowsy old tart had stopped by to chat up the regimental lines of hedges and flower beds standing at attention in front of it.
“No, I meant the—” Maggie broke off the instant an overwhelming feeling of dread filled her. She touched her face as if that would ward off giddiness. It felt bloodless, as if it didn’t belong to her, but it wasn’t as cold as her hands. “The Mater Hospital. I went to visit a friend there years ago.” She looked at Jo. “What is this place?”
“It’s a maternity home,” answered Jo.
Max flashed Jo a sideways glance with “keep quiet” written all over it. What was his problem? Was this some kind of test? Maggie could tell him he was wasting his time. She couldn’t kick start her abilities on a whim. All she had were her dreams.
Only the dreams!
“So, you don’t recognize the place, huh?” he asked, sliding the car into a parking spot facing a flower bed in front of the building.
Her earlier relief at escaping the interrogation she’d expected before Jo picked them up died swiftly. This was a test! “This is one that arranges adoptions, right? No! I’ve never been here. I think I might have remembered.”
Jo gave Max a look that should have made his hair curl. “This is all his idea. I could have told him it wouldn’t pan out.”
“Quit arguing, you two! It won’t solve anything. Maggie, you remember what you said to me this morning? ‘Maybe it’s not too late.’ Well, this might be the place to find out just how late it is. So far, this hospital is the only link to all three murders. The victims each left a baby here for adoption at varying times. Four months ago this place had a break-in. The office was ransacked. One month later we had us a victim.
“So far we can’t tie anyone to it. We’re looking at people who’ve been refused a child or a father whose child might have been adopted without him knowing. Frankly, we’re floundering, and ideas aren’t coming thick or fast. Some sicko has these women in his sights and is sticking to his own twisted agenda. The trouble is the killings are too stylized and don’t follow any of the patterns we’ve been taught to look for in serial killers. There’s been no escalation in the violence, no mutilation.”
“Can’t you give the women who come here protection, or warn them?”
“There are too many, and not enough cops. Issuing a warning could start a panic, and because of the privacy act, the hospital isn’t keen on giving us any more names than we need. Some people wouldn’t be too happy about everyone knowing their business. What we’re gonna do now is show the picture you sketched around to the staff. See if anyone recognizes her.”
“But—”
“No worries, just sit tight. Jo and I will see to it all. C’mon, Jo. The sooner we’re in, the sooner we’re done.”
Maggie hadn’t expected an invitation. What could she do? She watched them exit the front seats and Jo walk around the car to join Max. They made a handsome couple, both tall, dark, attractive. Two sides of a triangle, with Maggie making up the third. Not the best shape for relationships
