Sydney Sider

By Susan Downham

Senior Detective Tim O’Neil and his partner are soon embroiled in a serial killer case. The killer has a twisted and tormented mind, and seems to enjoy the torturous hell he puts his victims through. He is the complete embodiment of evil. As the bodies begin to stack up, The Sydney Morning Herald reports on the serial killer case, naming the killer, the Slaughter Man. The newspaper‘s powerful owners show how they manipulate the news to suit their own needs and fellow reporters show their own desires for career advancement. When the identity of the killer is discovered and the police descend on the killer’s home, O’Neil wants to take him alive. He feels apathy for the killer, knowing the hell his mother had put him through has shaped him into the skilled killer he has become.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rogue Phoenix Press
• Release date: Dec 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781624201462

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Peter Montgomery pushed the remote for the television and collapsed onto the couch. He was tired, worn out from thinking too much and asking too much of others. He didn't want to go to sleep until Elise got home from work. He hated the fact she worked the night shift and worried about her getting to her car safely. It didn't matter how much his daughter and his wife professed she would be fine and he needed to stop protecting her from evil that didn't exist. This was when he knew they were blind to the real world. He knew evil existed.

Peter argued often with both his daughter and his wife about the dangers lurking around every corner. They thought he was paranoid. They called him an old fuddy duddy who needed to relax and just let Elise grow up. He knew he worried more than a lot of fathers, but he also knew better than most how dangerous the streets could be and how the innocent were hurt just to satisfy the hunger of another.

Peter was pleased at first when Elise was offered the most brilliant apprenticeship as a chef in a five-star restaurant on the rocks. She'd worked hard, was now a third year apprentice and about to travel to Sweden to compete in the World Skills Olympics. Peter watched his daughter at every competition. When she won gold and was named the best apprentice chef in Australia and given the opportunity to compete on the world stage, he couldn't have been prouder. Although he had a huge lump inside him that screamed at him to keep her home and keep her safe, he let he go.

There wasn't much on television but he didn't turn it off. Instead he let the mindless noise wash over him. He lay down on his side on their black leather couch. They'd bought it the previous year and it set the room off beautifully. The room was their media room. When they had enlisted Walker associates to remodel their Mossman home, they gave them a very loose brief on what they wanted the house to look like and an endless budget. They never imagined something so luxurious and private, yet homey all in one. They'd owned the house for sixteen years. It was their first big purchase when Peter started to make real money.

Before Mossman they lived in North Curl Curl with views of North Head, but this move to Mossman transformed their lives. Peter was only minutes from work and Anna volunteered in the local St Vinnie's store. She was known to harass all their friends to make donations of last season's designer clothes to the store. This made the store one of the most profitable one for St Vinnie's in the country. Anna loved her charity work and was brilliant in retail. She had no desire to go into business herself. That was her husband's domain.

Peter looked at the three photos hanging on the wall adjacent to the television. Each photo was housed in a gold frame with a brown border, and all the same size. Photos were all taken by a professional photographer the week before Christmas, as a gift, organized by their eldest son Simon. Simon had been home from the UK and convinced his siblings to do the photo shoot. Each photo was taken on the North Curl Curl beach, with the waves crashing in the background, and all of them were wearing something brown.

Simon wore a brown and cream striped shirt, Trent brown shorts and Elise, a floral dress in orange and brown on a white background. The three photos looked stunning framed on the wall. Peter looked up at his children knowing they were his biggest success in his life. No amount of money or power would be more impressive than the miracle of his children. Peter was lost in thought, his eyes going from one photo to another when he was disturbed.

Hello, honey, I've been looking for you I thought you were in your office. Anna walked into the room, holding two glasses of red wine.

Sorry, my love, I just can't settle tonight. I don't know what is wrong with me. He sat up and patted the empty space on the couch for his wife to sit down.

Anna did so, handing the glass of wine to her husband. What's up, honey, you're miles away. Is something at work bothering you?

No, I don't think so. I think it's just Elise. Anna, I worry about her finishing work so late. It's already half past eleven, and I know she will be just leaving work now. I just wish she didn't do the night shifts. He leaned forward and pulled the cushion from behind his back and threw it on an empty chair.

How come you don't worry about Simon? He is all the way over in the UK?

I do. He stared at Anna. I do a bit but it is different for a girl.

She laughed. Oh don't be so silly. I worry about Trent travelling around Australia with his back pack and charm more than I ever worry about Elise.

But Elise is a girl, Anna, and she is only so slight. I don't think she would know how to protect herself. He smiled and raised an eyebrow at his wife.

Maybe not but I hardly think leaving work at midnight with all her work friends would put Elise in any more danger than Simon catching a train at midnight in that hole he calls home.

Peter made no apologies for worrying about his little girl more so than his sons. Simon is big enough to look after himself, he is twenty five now and look at him, honey, he is well over six foot and no one is going to pick him. As for Trent, he is twenty-two, a grown man, and he isn't on his own is he? Peter didn't wait for a response. He has four mates with him and the four wheel drive, it's not like they are thumbing lifts. Look at Trent, he is like a man mountain, he can handle himself, but Elise is such a dot of a thing and so innocent. I just worry she will come out of work and there will be someone waiting in her car or when she stops at a light, someone will get into her car, hijack her. I worry she will do something dumb like stop to get money on the way home and get mugged at the ATM.

Anna stared at her husband as his monologue went on.

What if she got a flat tyre, broke down or someone ran out in front of her drunk, what then?

Anna laughed. Oh, Peter, I don't think she would dare drive with her doors unlocked or stop at an ATM in fear you would find out. You have drummed it into her for her entire life. She turned to the photos of her children arranged artistically on the far wall.

I don't care if she fears me finding out anything that might just keep her safe. I'm happy to be the ogre father.

It isn't that you are an ogre, it is just that you are so nineteen fifties at times.

So what better to be that, keep her safe than try and be her best friend?

At some stage, Peter, you are going to have to stop worrying about Elise so much, she is nearly twenty and she is about to go to Sweden for these competitions.

I know and I am still not happy about it.

Happy or not, she is going, Peter, she is the best of the best and she deserves to line up on the international stage.

Who is going to look after her over there. We can't even stay at the same hotel. Peter slammed his coffee cup down.

Don't you raise your voice at me, Peter. She turned and faced him. The whole world is not full of men who want to rape and kill our daughter.

Maybe not, but they are out there, more than you would ever believe, Peter said.

I think you watch too many crime shows. It might be like that in America but it isn't here. God, you are so over protective, someday you have to let Elise grown up.

Easy for you to say, I know what men are like. Peter shook his head. He got frustrated at Anna for being so blind to what the real world was really like.

So you say, Peter, so you say. She put her hand on his lap. Come on, I am tired, let's call it a night.

I want to wait up for Elise.

What and have another fight with her? Why don't you send her a message, let her know we have gone to bed and left the porch light on.

He made a face. He preferred to be sitting up waiting for Elise when she got home. It was clear how tired Anna was and Peter rubbed his head. Alright let's go to bed, but we aren't going to sleep. I want to still be awake when Elise gets home. Peter stood and put out his hand, for Anna to hold.

Oh, I know what you are up to, her mouth turned up at the corners, What will we do while we wait?

Oh, I don't know. I'm sure you will think of something. He laughed, finally relaxing.

Me. She hit him lightly on the arm and grinned. Why me? I think you should get inventive.

Peter grinned, and then said, with heaviness to his voice, I love you, Anna.

I love you too, Peter, even if you are so damn old fashioned. Now come on. Anna led him towards their bedroom.

I will just send Elise the message and make sure the front door is locked and the porch light is on. He smacked her on her bottom.

Anna turned her head. Oh, is my husband feeling a bit frisky tonight?

No more than normal, now go and warm up the bed. I will be there in a minute, he told her.

Yes dear, anything else, dear. She giggled, which made Peter smile.

The phone beeped as they entered the bedroom and Peter checked it. Elise sent a short message of ‘Love you too, leaving now.’ She is just leaving work now, Anna, so she should be home by twelve fifteen. Peter undressed and climbed into bed.

Good, honey, that gives you half an hour to make love to me.

I'm on a timer am I? He laughed.

Anna climbed on top. Yes, husband, you are on a timer. They both laughed.

After a few frantic minutes, Peter stopped moving.

Hey you, what's wrong?

Shush.

What?

Shush. He put his finger to his lips. I thought I heard Elise's footsteps but she couldn't have gotten home so quickly. They both turned to the clock. It was only midnight.

Are you sure you heard something?

Peter put his hand under the bed and felt for his trusty old baseball bat. He nodded. Yes I heard something. He too sat on the bed then they both heard a floor board creek out near the kitchen. Anna grabbed her husband's arm and held it tight.

Oh god, honey, I heard that. Peter was straight out of bed.

You ring the police, Anna, he told her.

Where are you going?

Peter picked up his trusty old baseball bat, and turned to Anna, his face creased and his heart thumping hard inside his chest. I'll go and have a look. He disappeared out the doorway, tip-toeing out of the room with the baseball bat in hand.

Peter stood by his bedroom door listening to Anna on the phone and to the sounds of the house. He shook his head as he tried to clear a buzzing noise that was sending alarm bells through his body. He concentrated. There was nothing. He heard Anna whispering, barely audible, but nothing else. He held on to the bat, resting it on his foot. Butt naked and feeling cold, he was about to turn back into his bedroom and get dressed before investigating further when he heard the blood chilling sound of a loose floor board near the end of the kitchen counter groan.

He knew the exact floor board. He'd promised Anna several times to get it fixed, but it never bothered him like it did her. Now when the house was so quiet, it took on such an eerie sound.

Peter pulled the bat up to shoulder height, ready to take a swing. He took three small steps down the hallway, the carpet soft underfoot. He listened again. There was no sound but he knew someone was there. They weren't alone in the house. He took a backward glance at his bedroom, where his Anna was still on the phone and wondered what could be taking so long.

Then he took another two steps forward, his hands getting sweaty and his heart racing. His mind went to other crimes in the area. He knew of a man out west who woke up to find two men empting his house of every major electrical item and loading them onto a small truck. The burglars didn't know the house was occupied, and they panicked, killing the man by hitting him over the head with a microwave. He wished whoever it was would just run out the front door, with Peter chasing him out into the street then returning indoors to wait for the police.

He preferred that idea, confronting anyone even with his baseball bat in hand. He took another step forward and that was when he saw him. Peter swung his bat, but it connected with the wall and not with the man whose eyes drilled into him.

A fist came towards him. He ducked but not quick enough. He felt his head whip to the left, then another punch came, right into his kidney. He cried out, trying to pull himself up, leaning on the bat. He stood and faced the man, trying to make sense of what was going on, but he couldn't. The man watched him get to his feet. Peter was wondering what he was waiting for. Every breathe he took racked his body with a wave of nausea. He swung his bat straight at the man's face, and watched as the bat hit the wall. The knife came from under him, slicing into his ribs. Peter screamed out, as the knife was yanked out of his piggy white flesh and he grabbed at the wall to steady himself and then the knife came in again, this time through his stomach. He grabbed on to the blade, tried to pull it out, to stop the pain, but the man leaned into him and held him as he dropped to the floor. He pulled the knife out again, tearing the flesh apart.

Then he turned his head towards his bedroom door, his hand on the hole ripped into his guts. He screamed at Anna to run, but nothing came out. He saw her running towards him, his white T-shirt too big on her tiny naked body. She met his eyes. He screamed again. Blood spurted out towards Anna, like a huge spew. He put his hand to his mouth, to wipe it away. Dizzy and confused, he watched Anna fall on him and then scream and the knife gouged her back, slicing into her spinal cord, then twisting and being dragged back out. Peter felt Anna's warm blood seep over him, and he knew it was too late. He noticed the hallway slipping away. He closed his eyes, willing it to be over. His short breathes were agonizing, tearing at him. Then he felt hands on the cheeks of his arse. It brought him back for a moment. Shook him back to where he was and what was going on. He tried to get onto all fours, he had to fight. He pushed himself up, onto his knees, the weight of Anna slipping but still weighing him down. A voice called out to him.

What's wrong, Peter, come on get up, before I really fuck you, the voice teased him but spurred him on. Peter was on all fours, the man he knew was behind him. He wanted to say something, to scream or yell, or make some noise, but his mouth was full of blood.

Then he felt his cheeks pulled open. He felt the rubbery grip on his arse and clenched and a pain he knew he would never be able to explain. He felt the knife rip him wide open, he felt the warm stickiness down his thighs, and he felt the knife twist inside him. He closed his eyes, concentrating on something good, something joyful. He saw the sun shining, the beach, the boys running into the water, Elise in her mother's arms, just a tiny baby, and him watching them all and knowing it was the happiest day of his life. He was holding on but only just, his breaths so shallow and the world around him fading so quickly. He blinked his eyes trying to hold on, seeing his baby girl in her mother's arms, hearing the boys laugh, but as he took his last breath he heard her voice call out, Hi Mum and Dad, I am home safe and sound.

CHAPTER TWO

Rose Burrell was late again and she knew it. She drove as swiftly as she could across town thankful it was a Monday night, which meant it was quiet on the streets of Sydney. She had her headlights on full and maneuvered her car expertly around the few taxis that were slowing her down as she weaved her way through the one-way streets. The road works that gridlocked the city during the day were at a standstill, and it was with relief she finally turned into George Street and she could see the parking garage. Above the entrance she read the sign for the millionth time, The Sydney Morning Herald.

She'd worked on the paper for years and was considered a bit of an old hack now, but in her day she was a powerful and influential news reporter, an old-school reporter. Rose Burrell was someone who came through the ranks of cadetship and tutorage rather than the fast-tracking fast-talking media studies journalists the country's Universities and Tafes were spitting into her changing world.

Rose swore as her phone rang knowing it would be one of these young bitches on the phone now to haul her arse over hot coals because she was late again. Rose thought about ignoring the call. She was only minutes from work but as the lights turned red, she answered her phone cursing blue tooth as she did so.

Burrell here, she said, knowing fully well in the office they called her Beryl not Burrell and it wasn't a term of endearment.

It's half past one, Rose, and His Majesty is stomping around his office demanding to know where you are, so if I was you I would come up with one hell of an excuse as to why you are so late again. It wasn't the bitch on the phone, it was Marty Collins. She and Marty worked together on and off for two decades. She knew he always had her back, and she laughed.

Okay, Marty, I'm turning into the parking garage now.

See you in five and I will have a great excuse. Rose bit her lip, she was thinking and thinking about what she was going to say and how to avoid the carry on she was going to get when she got to her desk.

Rose knew she couldn't keep on being late and pushing her luck but the truth was she was bored of the job. Everything was changing and fast and the only copy she got to write these days was rehashing someone else's crap. There were no big assignments anymore. Occupational health and safety ruined them. The new laws demanded all journalists go out in packs rather than individuals to conduct interviews. It made it hard for Rose as no one really wanted to work with her.

Even when her editor demanded it and assigned teams, Rose still couldn't find a suitable working partner. She happily switched from days to nights, thinking she would be out on the streets or down in the police departments or hanging around the hospital, but instead she was stuck at her desk in front of a computer. She spent the time massaging someone else's copy, which would be under their byline while she got no credit or recognition.

Rose pushed the button in the lift and listened as it pulled her up into the building to the fifth floor. The doors opened and she was met by bright lights of the copy room. She quickly crossed the room to her desk, passing no one. It was very quiet and she sat down trying to look like she had been there all along, but she hadn't passed unnoticed. Her boss, her editor, Scotty Lucas, called out her name, and it boomed in the near empty room, and Rose picked herself up and went to his office.

Scotty Lucas was also a bit of a dinosaur and had a soft spot for Rose, but he was also now run by accountants and he had little choices of his own any more.

Hi, Rose, so lovely for you to decide to come to work tonight. He hadn't meant to be so sarcastic but that hadn't stopped him. Take a seat, Rose, we need to talk. Rose sat herself down, smoothing out her black pants as she did so.

Sorry I was late tonight, Scotty, I would have been here earlier but… Scotty held up his hand, and she looked at him for the first time and realized he looked like shit, so she wasn't about to get her arse hauled after all. She sat quietly and stared at him wondering what he was about to tell her. Rose we have worked together for a long time now haven't we? Scotty asked her.

We have, Scotty, it's been a long time.

It's changed hasn't it?

Yes it has, Scotty, the whole paper has changed, I wonder sometimes if we are here for the people or the bean counters.

Scotty sat up in his seat and laughed, it was a hollow and soulless laugh. It made Rose feel a bit uneasy, but she still sat there waiting for him to make sense. Rose, I wanted you to be the first to know, everyone else will read about it in today's copy. The bean counters have decided to pension me off, apparently I have reached my used by date and they no longer want me at the desk.

Shit, Scotty, when did this happen?

Six tonight, I was called in for a meeting with the round table, and they told me the paper needed some new blood, circulation was down, and I needed to consider at fifty nine how much I had left to offer them.

For fuck's sake you have to be joking. Rose stared at him, waiting for him to point at her and say that he had her.

No joke. They didn't give me a lot of choice, Rose. Either I resigned and they get to give me a great sendoff, which they can stick on page three and the HR department will look like they are progressive and innovative with their approach or they could simply sack me.

So did you tell them to get fucked and make them sack you?

No I did not, fucking hell, Rose, I ain't stupid. No, Rose, I have decided to resign. I don't want a lot of muck raking over my performance. I would prefer to walk out with my head high. I have seen what they can do to a man who doesn't play their games. I just wanted you to be the first to know.

Fuck off,Scotty, you have worked in the industry for over forty years and this is how they are treating you. For fuck's sake, I better watch out. I turn fifty next year.

You know what they are like now. I gotta roll with it.

You could just tell them to fuck off and see what they do, call their bluff.

And what for. No, I think I will just take the big send off, take Mary on some kick arse holiday, and do something else with my life.

Oh, Scotty, I feel like shit, there aren't many of us dinosaurs left you know.

I know, Rose, but it's a done deal. They aren't giving me choices. Change is coming.

Well, won't that be interesting. I can just see young Hartnett and I smooching over coffee, discussing my role in the paper should he get the Guernsey. Rose laughed and so did Scotty.

He is a fucking little brown nosing shit head if there ever was one.

Don't I know it. The best thing that could happen to Hartnett, is if he crashed his fucking car into a brick wall and went up in flames.

Jesus, Rose, are you telling me you don't like him. Scotty raised his eyebrows.

Fuck, don't like him, I fucking hate the little turd. He has caused me so much grief and his copy is shit.

I know it is, but with his uncle on the board, I've had my hands tied.

I know, Scotty, but really how did we end up with such a dickless twat on our newspaper.

It isn't our newspaper, that's the thing, Rose. We just thought it was, but the longer I've been here the more I realize that it doesn't belong to the people. It isn't the people's voice, it's a fucking political soccer ball that gets kicked from side to side, depending on who is going to pay out the most.

Oh that's cynical.

Is it, Rose, do you think so? No I don't think so, I think that is exactly what it's like.

Fuck, Scotty, are you sure about all this, you are calling it a day.

Yep I'm sure. He nodded at her as if to dismiss her. Rose, how is it you can hold your own in a bar fight, and on the right day you could also hold your own at the Prime Minister's Ball?

What the fuck? she asked him, bewildered.

You swear and drink and carry on, sometimes I think you are so much like a bloke. Then you can dress up and be the perfect lady?

What makes you ask that?

Nothing, but you sit here and talk like you do, fuck this and fuck that, but I have seen you dressed up at the Governor's Ball, the perfect lady.

Oh it's one of my special fucking talents, Scotty. Here I get to be me, out there I have to fucking pretend. Fuck, you ask dumb questions.

Sorry, I suppose I do sometimes. Scotty laughed. "Fuck off, will you already and write that copy, Rose got up and saluted him, held his gaze for a moment and disappeared. The phone on his desk rang as Rose walked away.

Rose took her coffee to her desk and began to type. Her fingers flew over the key board, and a puzzled looking Marty Collins looked over at her from his desk. He was finishing off the last sports page.

Lucas got off the phone and then made two more phone calls. This was going to be big and he smiled up to the lord above and gave thanks. Mate, just when I think the chips are down you lands me with this, and on my last night, thanks, mate, who said there isn't a god? Scotty put the phone down. He looked at Rose and smiled. He made a beeline for her desk.

Rose, stop writing that tripe about me and listen up.

Rose spun around in her chair and looked straight at Scotty who looked like an excited puppy.

How long has it been since you have done a meaty story, Rose?

A while and you know it, Scotty, not since I covered that child porn ring early last year, Rose replied, not needing to add anything else as they both knew why she had been shelved after that expose.

Okay, this has just landed. A girl has just arrived home and found her parents murdered. I don't have any other details other than the name of the street they live on. Scotty handed over a piece of paper to Rose who looked down at the name of the street and she took a deep breath.

Okay then, Mossman. Who do I take?

I don't think you need anyone holding your hand, do you, Rose? He was defying all the new rules.

I don't think I do, who else is on it? She pushed her save button, standing up getting her jacket off the back of the chair all in one fluid movement.

I don't know yet, I will keep you in the loop if I get anything, I think at this stage we are the only ones in any field who have caught it.

"So no