Focus

By Alison Clifford

“I will win. I will kill them all.”
When the Dalton Agency private investigation firm is tasked with assisting the defence in a murder case, Warren Pearce relishes the chance to return to criminal investigations. He also takes on a part time role of carer for his infant daughter when his wife, Beth, returns to work at the FBI lab. Life has never been so full, or so satisfying.
As Warren works through the investigation, more questions arise about the identity of the killer. He becomes convinced their client is innocent, but he must find proof. He teams up with Sarah in the hunt for the truth, but the evidence they need eludes them.
An attack gone wrong leaves the true murderer vulnerable. And dangerous.
Can Warren and Sarah find the evidence they seek? And who’s desperate plea will finally expose the killer?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alison Clifford
• Release date: Jun 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463315071

Alison Clifford

Alison began writing as a teenager, hiding away in the school library during lunch to work on her stories. None of these projects ever made it beyond the first few chapters as other interests took over.During her final year of high school, Alison joined the Australian Army Reserve and went on to serve in the Royal Australian Air Force.A fan of motorsport, Alison follows the V8 Supercars, Formula 1, and MotoGP, and loves to attend local motorsport events. As well as being a self-confessed stationery junkie, she also likes spending time at the local Botanical Gardens.Alison is married with three children and lives in Tasmania, Australia.

Book preview

Killing is a crime, a sin. People kill every day; a spider here, an ant there. Animals and plants are killed to put food on our table. Killing a fellow human being is unacceptable—unless they have killed others. That’s how I see it, this thing I do. I am protecting the human race, helping it to survive, stopping the invasion. And these things are not my fellows—they are impostors. Here to conquer.

I don’t know what first caught my attention; maybe it’s the preservation instinct kicking in, but my eye was drawn to it. I can tell it’s one of them immediately. It stands out; it is… sharper… somehow. It’s as if a lens has focussed on it alone, making everything around them seem blurred. It’s a sign, a warning. I can see it while others seem oblivious. Perhaps they can see it too but don’t understand the significance. I do. It’s my burden and my responsibility.

I don’t know what to call it, this thing I see within others. I always feel sorry for the person it has displaced. It takes over, not possessing the person within the body, but removing the person and taking the body for its own. It would be terrifying to be removed from your body; a true violation. I don’t know what happens to them, the ones who are displaced. I don’t want to know. Do they exist somewhere else—another dimension—or do they die? I don’t know where it comes from either, or exactly what it is, but it is evil. I’m sure it is infiltrating the human race as some sort of spy, but I have no real idea of the final purpose. Everyone around me pays no attention, but I cannot ignore it. That’s why I destroy it. Either I win, or it will, and I do what I must. If it isn’t human, then killing it isn’t wrong.

I follow it now. The focus still works. It is vivid against a blurred world. A reassurance that what I am going to do is right, is necessary.

I have followed it before and I know its routine. It walks down the sidewalk. A jogger goes by, an out-of-focus person passing me. I look only at the thing ahead. It turns into the churchyard, so I lengthen my stride to close the gap. As I step into the churchyard, I avoid the path and keep to the grass so my footsteps are muffled. It doesn’t hear me. We are nearly at the back of the cemetery. I reach over my shoulder and slide the baseball bat from my backpack. A quick glance behind assures me I am alone with it.

A few fast paces, and then I strike. It crumples. I toss the bat in between the graves and drag it from the path. It doesn’t stir, but I feel its heartbeat when I check. Good. I need the body to stay alive—for now—so I can trap the possessor inside the possessed.

My breath comes in gasps as I lay it on its back and check the area once more. I try to quiet my breathing. The grounds of the church are quiet. One quick movement as I tear open its shirt, and then I drop the backpack on the ground and pull out the knife. Two clean cuts on the upper chest, a cross marking the body to show it holds one of them. My fingers seek the strong beat of the heart, and then I push the knife into the chest, piercing the heart and pinning the thing inside. It cannot escape now. It is anchored to the heart and my knife has sealed its fate. I save myself too—it would use me if it could escape the body it has lived in. It hasn’t been able to escape before, so I am safe.

Now I take the small towel and hold it over the face, clamping out the air. It must die. It does.

I leave everything there. The bat, the knife, the towel. They are wiped clean, and I leave. I have perfected the process, the killing of it, of them. I have been forced to make small changes since the previous one, but this has still worked.

It stays, staring at the sky from empty eyes, the cross marking it and warning others like it, the knife in place, just to be sure it is pinned until all sign of existence is gone. The bat has also served its purpose and is left.

I am free.

Until my focus finds the next one.

Chapter One

Beth glanced over her shoulder at her sleeping daughter, sprawled on the carpet amongst her toys. Trying to read a report on forensic botany developments and keep an eight-month-old—a teething eight-month-old—entertained hadn’t been easy. When Matilda— or Tilly, as they called her—had succumbed to sleep, Beth had left her where she lay. To move her would have woken her, and Beth really needed to keep reading while she could. Beth turned back to her laptop and picked up her mug of almost cold tea, sipping as she read. The task of keeping up with developments in her field of expertise didn’t always fit in with parenting a baby. It had been easier for a while as Tilly learned to play with toys, but now she was crawling it had become almost impossible to concentrate. To take your eyes off her for a moment was to flirt with destruction. Only last week Beth had saved Warren and Sam’s latest chess game—still underway—from annihilation when Tilly had managed to grasp the edge of the board. It now rested safely on the dresser, out of Tilly’s current reach.

Beth had reached the conclusions section of the report when a whimper warned her Tilly was waking.

Just two more minutes, she whispered, glancing at Tilly. The little girl’s eyes were still shut and Beth read on, skimming the sentences.

No luck. The whimper turned into a wail. Beth abandoned her reading to turn and scoop her daughter up, just as Tilly launched into full cry.

Mommy’s got you. The wails became shaking sobs as Beth stepped through the toys scattered across the floor to the kitchen. She paused, feeling Tilly’s diaper before resting her daughter’s behind on the edge of the counter. Your diaper will last until you’ve had a drink, she said as she grabbed a tissue to wipe Tilly’s face. The baby’s face was blotchy and red, her brown eyes swimming in tears. Beth wiped away the tears and snot and then laid a hand on Tilly’s forehead. Not hot, she murmured. Are those new teeth making you feel icky? Would you like a cold drink, hmmm? She hoisted Tilly onto her hip and crossed to the fridge to retrieve one of the feeding cups of water she had ready. Tilly grabbed it from her hand before Beth could react. The cup bounced off Tilly’s chin, the crack of the cup as it hit the tiles mostly drowned by Tilly’s renewed wails.

You need to slow down, Beth said as she stooped to pick up the cup. Not cracked, she muttered after a quick inspection, and then she put the spout to Tilly’s lower lip. The wailing stopped as Tilly grabbed the handles again and sucked. Beth watched for a moment and then walked back to her laptop. She propped Tilly up on her lap and picked up from where she left off.

Five minutes later she sighed and sat back. Done. Tilly, will you go on the floor again while I type up some notes? She turned and leaned forward to put Tilly down on the carpet, but she kicked out and started to sob. I’ll take that as a no.

Beth settled Tilly on her lap and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. She loved being at home with Tilly, but her imminent return to work loomed and she needed to make sure her professional skills were up to date. Her job as a forensic botanist at the FBI labs demanded it. They wanted the best, and she wanted to deliver. But it was hard, and it wasn’t going to get easier, either. Tilly was due for her first day in care tomorrow, a test run before Beth returned to work. How would she cope with leaving her there? She already felt guilty for wanting to go back to work. It would only be part time, as before, so Tilly would only be in care for two days a week. It’ll be fine, she murmured, stroking Tilly’s wispy brown curls. We’ll be fine.

The doorbell rang, startling her from her thoughts. She rose, and with Tilly on her hip, went to the door. A quick check through the peep-hole and then she opened it up.

Burns, come in. Beth stepped back to allow the Special Agent in Charge of the Washington DC field office to come into the apartment. Aldo Burns had opened up his office for Warren to join in investigations prior to Warren’s retirement, and the two men had struck up a friendship afterwards. Burns loathed his first name, so Beth never used it. Warren’s not here, but he shouldn’t be far away.

I actually came to see you.

Oh, okay. Beth led the way into the sitting room. Can I get you a coffee?

That would be lovely, thanks.

Beth stooped to put Tilly on the floor with her toys, but she clung to Beth and began to whimper again.

Let me take her, Burns offered, holding out his arms.

Tilly hesitated for a moment, but allowed Beth to pass her over.

Thanks. I won’t be long.

Burns nodded and collected a toy from the floor as Beth went into the kitchen. Two coffees made, she returned to see Burns sitting in an armchair with Tilly on his knee, entertaining her with a conversation with the stuffed giraffe he held. From Tilly’s chuckles, she was enjoying the show. Beth was reluctant to break the moment, enjoying her daughter’s chuckles and the precious moment of peace. She waited until the conversation ended and then walked forward, placing Burns’ coffee on the table beside his chair.

Do you want me to take her?

Burns smiled. I’m fine. I don’t often get to play with little kids these days. All of my nieces and nephews have grown into cell phone-obsessed teens. Unless I can tell them something gruesome, they’re not interested.

Beth sank onto the sofa. Well, I appreciate having a coffee without a baby trying to grab my attention, so thanks.

Burns nodded, his cheeks glowing pink. Glad I can help.

So, how can I help you? You said you wanted to see me?

Burns took a sip of his coffee and put the mug down again, out of Tilly’s reach. I hear you’re returning to work soon.

Next Monday.

Good. I’m glad to hear it.

The look that went with the simple statement had Beth on alert. Why? What’s happening?

Nothing dramatic. I’ve missed your interest in the job, and your expertise.

Beth frowned. I thought the Arboretum staff were helping out?

They are, when called on. They do a good job.

But?

He shrugged. You have background with the FBI, and you understand how we work.

And Tim? He’s still doing the botanical lab work?

And crime scenes. He waggled the giraffe in front of Tilly, who grabbed it and started beating it on the arm of the chair. He’s not you.

Beth couldn’t help smiling. It was the boost she needed before returning to the lab.

I broached the matter with management at the laboratory, voicing my concerns over some cases, and I haven’t had a response as to the outcome.

Beth pressed her lips together to stop the grin from emerging. If Burns was resorting to formal language, it meant he was angry. The phrasing always tickled her sense of humour.

What concerns?

Burns leaned down to pick up the toy Tilly had dropped and gave it back to her. Amongst other things, there’s at least one piece of evidence that I recall in a case that doesn’t seem to have been processed.

Well…

I know you have to prioritise things, Burns interrupted. But when I specifically ask for something and it never appears, that’s a problem.

That was serious. Beth was surprised nothing had been done. Kamal, the Assistant Director in Charge of the lab, didn’t like substandard work. Or maybe they just hadn’t got back to Burns.

I haven’t heard any of this, but I’ll ask when I get there next week. Subtly.

Burns nodded. As I said, it’ll be good to have you back.

The sound of a key in the apartment door announced Warren’s return home.

In the sitting room, Beth called as Burns rose to his feet.

Hello Beth, Warren said as he came into the room. Burns. Nice to see you.

Beth couldn’t help comparing the men as they shook hands and exchanged greetings. Burns was tall and of average build. He was not a small man, but Warren’s superior height and muscular stature made Burns seem smaller. Or maybe it was the power Beth always felt coming from her husband. Warren was a good ten or more years older, and balding, but he had more vitality than the agent.

How’s my little girl? Warren asked as he relieved Burns of Tilly. He glanced down at Beth and must have seen the reflection of the day in her eyes. He leaned down and kissed her, the light touch of his hand on her cheek conveying gentleness and sympathy. Warren sat down with Tilly and Burns resumed his seat.

How are things at the Field Office?

Same as usual. I came to speak with Beth about issues at the lab.

Warren’s eyebrow rose as he glanced at Beth. Issues?

Apparently Tim’s not as good as he thinks he is, Beth said.

Amusement flickered in Warren’s eyes, but they became serious again as he turned back to Burns. Kamal?

Burns shrugged.

I’ll have a look around when I get back next week. See what I can find out about what’s going on, Beth said.

Interesting. Let’s hope it’s nothing too bad, Warren said, his gaze fixed on Burns.

The other man shrugged again and Beth saw the creases on Warren’s forehead increase. Did Warren know something about this? He may be retired from the FBI, but he still kept in touch.

The men fell into shop talk and Beth tuned out. Tilly seemed content for now, so maybe she could get her notes completed. She eased up from the sofa.

Excuse me, I need to finish something off.

Burns nodded and Warren smiled. She left them to it and went back to her laptop.

Chapter Two

Warren lowered himself into a chair at the table, patting his pocket to reassure himself yet again that his cell phone was handy. The other members of the Dalton Agency, a private investigation firm, arranged themselves around the rectangular table, laying notebooks on its shiny surface as they relaxed into their positions. Sarah and Aden Young sat opposite Warren, and Sam, the founder of the business, took up position at the end of the table. Monday morning, and the weekly updates meeting was ready to begin.

Sam placed a coffee cup on the table, missing the coaster by a good three inches, and opened his notebook. Warren held back a smile as Sarah leaned forward, and using her right forefinger, flicked the coaster towards Sam’s mug, hitting it with a dull thunk. Sam glanced up. His mouth twitched as he reached out and lifted his mug onto the small square of cork.

Happy? he asked, not looking at Sarah.

Yes, she replied, deadpan.

Warren caught Aden’s amused look in a fleeting glance. If Sarah was stirring Sam at this hour of the morning, then all was well in the agency.

Right. Let’s get on with it, Sam started. Sarah. Since you’re in such good form this morning, why don’t you start?

I’ll be working on the Abbotstein estate that is looking for several family members who have inheritances, but who are out of contact. I’m still working on tracking down witnesses for a couple of minor court cases and we’ve had a call about a runaway. The parents want someone to go over to their home this morning. I called them and said I would be there later.

Warren saw Sarah’s chin lift slightly and then glanced at Aden, who frowned as he wrote something on his notepad.

Enough to be going on with, Sam commented as he wrote notes. Aden?

I have an ongoing surveillance underway, and there’s the regular self-defence classes.

I’ll relieve your watch this afternoon, Sam said. Give you some time for a break before the class starts.

Thanks.

Warren?

I’m heading over to the Nelson and Rice rooms for the briefing on the criminal defence case, and to collect the files.

Yes, the Bearings case. Which of their lawyers is handling it?

Anton Lee. I also have the security assessment report from last week to finalise and deliver.

Sam nodded. And Beth’s back at work today.

Warren’s muscles tensed for a moment. Yes, and Tilly is at childcare. His hand went instinctively to the cell phone in his pocket.

Beth’s return to the FBI lab where she worked as a forensic botanist had been planned for, but it was only the second day at childcare for Tilly. The first visit had only been for two hours, but he and Beth had worried for every second of it; as he was doing now.

She’ll be fine, Aden said, his smile one of sympathy.

Warren nodded and looked down at his notepad as worry sat in his gut in a cold lump. Tilly wasn’t his only concern. Beth had been pale and quiet that morning.

He squashed the worry and looked up at Sam. How about you?

I’m checking out potential jurors for a trial today and then surveillance later on. He looked at Sarah. I’ll look after Logan while you’re out this morning so Aden can start the surveillance.

Thanks Sam.

Sarah shot Warren a quick look. Sarah and Aden’s son Logan spent a couple of days each week at the agency, an arrangement that enabled both of them to keep working without paying a lot for childcare. It wasn’t an option for Warren—if Tilly was in the office, he’d never get anything done. Logan was a placid child. Tilly wasn’t.

Sam continued. There’s a business that wants an investigation done into their warehouse—items are vanishing—so I’ll set up cameras for them to monitor the premises. Sam looked out around the group. "Any questions? Any issues? No? Excellent. In that case, I’ll see you all