‘The point of a sealed file is that these kids get to leave their past behind them,’ Katy said.
‘I know,’ Judith said.
‘Also your theory might be wrong. Ruth Hall went through hell as a kid, obviously. She shouldn’t have been placed with a foster family so quickly after her mother died. She obviously wasn’t ready, but just because she was violentoncedoesn’t meant mean she ever was again.’
‘I know, Katy,’ Judith said again. ‘Jesus, if anyone knows that, I do. But if I’m right, she killed Walker, and she set Jack Miller up. If she could do that, she’s dangerous. She needs to be found.’ Dangerous, and formidable. There was something fascinating about Ruth Hall. Judith was building a sketch of the woman in her mind but it was far from fully formed.
Katy sighed. ‘There’s only one mental health facility that Ruth could have gone into, but the doctors there won’t talk to you. They won’t breach client confidentiality. There’s only one man I can think of who might help you. He used to be a psychologist in the service. His name’s Lawrence Barr. He got fired a couple of years back. He’s not practising anymore. He might—might—talk to you. In the circumstances.’
‘Why did he get fired?’
‘He hit the bottle and couldn’t stop. Not until it was too late anyway.’
‘You think he’s angry at the service? That’s why he might talk to me?’
Katy shook her head. ‘I think he thinks like you do. He thinks that some things are more important than rules. You should meet him, Jude. You’ll probably like him.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Judith very nearly went home after her conversation with Katy, but guilt nagged at her. She’d promised Jack Miller that she’d check on his son. So when she left Katy’s house, just after eight p.m., she didn’t go home but set off instead for the address Jack had given her. Elsa Anderson’s place was on Ropley Avenue in Balwyn. It didn’t take Judith long to find it. The house was modern, with a facade of exposed concrete, accented with charred cedar cladding and large, black-framed windows. The garden had clearly been professionally landscaped, with mostly native plants, carefully chosen and beautifully maintained. The house was set behind black powder-coated steel gates, but the pedestrian gate had been left open, so Judith let herself in and went to the front door.
She rang the doorbell and waited. There was a camera over her head, which was no surprise. Houses like this would be loaded with them. Two minutes passed. Judith pressed the button again, and heard it buzz somewhere deep in the house. After a moment, she heard the click clack of a pair of heels quickly approaching. The door was opened by a spectacularly pretty woman who looked to be in her late twenties, though her self-possession suggested that she was probably older. She had thick, dark hair to her shoulders, chocolate-brown eyes framed by long, dark lashes. She was tall and willowy and looked like money.
‘Can I help you?’
Judith took out her ID. ‘Elsa Anderson? Detective Judith Lee. Jack Miller asked me to speak to you.’
‘Oh. Right. You’d better come in.’
Elsa led the way through the house. They passed through a hall with soaring ceilings, grey limed floors, and a feature wall that had been clad with more black-scorched cedar. There was art on the walls—huge paintings subtly lit by hidden fittings. They passed a grand piano set into an open-plan alcove. Elsa led the way into a kitchen which had dramatic green marble benchtops, hidden cabinetry and yet more of those black-scorched timber walls. Colour must be back in fashion. For a while it had seemed like every posh house was the same—bright white kitchens and bleached timber floors. But maybe the fashion had changed. Nothing stayed the same for long. Rich people were like magpies. They never met a new, shiny thing they didn’t like.
‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’ Elsa asked. ‘We have herbal, or English Breakfast if you prefer. Or I could make you a coffee?’
‘Coffee would be great, thank you.’
‘Sure.’ Elsa turned to a high-tech coffee machine. It was black with brass fittings and had probably cost more than Elsa’s motorbike. ‘What will you have?’
‘A long black would be great, if that’s possible.’
‘I’ll have the same,’ Elsa said. ‘I probably shouldn’t. I won’t sleep tonight. But I have to work. When we’ve finished talking, that is.’ She pressed some buttons, and the machine started to grind.
‘Incredible house,’ Judith said, when the machine finally quietened.
‘Yes,’ Elsa said. ‘We’re lucky we bought when we did. We wouldn’t be able to afford it today.’ She handed Judith her coffee, then slid over a sugar bowl.
Judith thanked Elsa and added two spoons of sugar. She took a seat at one of the bar stools in the kitchen, and Elsa did the same.
‘I’m sorry,’ Elsa said. ‘I don’t know how this works. First of all, I should tell you that Jack’s son Cameron is upstairs. He’s with my girls, getting ready for bed. We’ll need to keep our voices down.’
‘That’s no problem.’
‘And... look, I don’t know what you need from me, but I’m telling you right now that I don’t believe Jack did it. He doesn’t have a violent bone in his body.’
Judith nodded. ‘I understand.’
Now that they were sitting closer, Judith could see that Elsa didn’t look particularly well. She was pale and a little flushed under her perfectly applied make-up.
‘So if you want me to give evidence against him, or something like that, I won’t do it. I’ll be a character witness for the other side.’