Angels of the Morning

By Judith C Deane-Freeman

This is a story about family and relationships; it is a love story and a murder mystery, set against a backdrop of the Australian landscape and imbued with a sense of place.

When a body is found in a lake, soon-to-be retired Detective Sergeant Ben Phelps is called to investigate. The victim is found to have been murdered twenty-five years earlier, and when retrieved DNA is linked to registered nurse Misty Dawn Finch, her life is turned upside down. As she questions her place in the family in which she grew up, relationships are challenged. She and her sister Romy provide the central focus of the story as they come to terms with the implications of the identity of the body in the lake.

As the detective closes in on the one person who he hopes knows the truth, he is tormented by memories from the past. His investigation takes him not only to the heart of Australia, but back over forty years in time, to a case that involved the possible perpetrator of his current investigation. It is not until Ben finds himself in one of the most remote parts of the country that he is able to make peace with himself and find the answers he seeks.

Misty Dawn fears that her journey of self-discovery threatens the very things that matter most, until finally, old loves are transformed and lost family is reclaimed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Mar 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781922368577

Judith C Deane-Freeman

Judith Deane-Freeman – bio.I live and work in rural South Australia where I was born and raised. After completing an arts degree at uni and while contemplating career options, true love intervened. Four children and fifteen years passed and I once again considered my career options. This time I had added qualifications, which determined my decision. Now I could multi-task, undertake complex problem solving, function on little sleep and wipe up assorted bodily fluids without flinching. Nursing seemed the perfect choice! I have subsequently found it to be a satisfying career, affording me the privilege of sharing in the lives of a variety of people when at their most vulnerable.My husband and I live in a straw bale house we built ourselves on our rural property where we grow our own organic fruit and vegetables. We both enjoy camping and exploring Australia by four-wheel-drive, where my more timid nature is constantly challenged by his more adventurous spirit.Although I have always lived in the country and grew up in some remote areas, I have also worked in a busy metro hospital in Adelaide in a wide range of areas including oncology, trauma, surgical, emergency, Aboriginal health and renal dialysis. Having four grown-up children, I have survived the many challenges of raising a creative bunch of individuals. Over the years I have read avidly and scribbled intermittently, but it is only since the family have left home that I have finally taken the time to write seriously. My nursing career has fed my curiosity about people, the complexity of their lives and the secrets hidden within so many families. It is their stories that inspire me to write.

Book preview

Prologue

Adelaide 2014

It was a busy Saturday night in Emergency, and so it was after midnight before registered nurse, Dawn Finch, could grab a coffee in the staff room. While she toasted a cheese sandwich, she half-heartedly contributed suggestions to the quiz from the day's newspaper that a couple of the porters were puzzling over, at the long table down the centre of the room. Deciding she needed a few moments of quiet, she took her coffee and toastie to a corner table and put up with the friendly razzing she got for not joining the bunch at the main table.

Shift workers were an understanding mob however, and left her alone once they realised she needed a bit of time out. She nibbled slowly at her sandwich and was only half-way through her coffee, when there was an exodus from the staff room and she found herself alone. A few people came in and out, but no-one settled, until she was approached by a new emergency doctor. Matt Walsh had completed his intern year at the hospital, then gone overseas for training and experience and now was back, settling in quite well by all accounts. Dawn pushed a chair over towards him with her foot.

Take a pew, Matt, you look tired!

He sank gratefully into the chair. Still getting used to night work again. I didn't have to do it in London.

Dawn looked at his rumpled shirt, stubbly chin and messy hair, which she noted did not detract from his good looks and the confidence that came with them.

Do you only work nights? Dawn, is it? he asked, studying her with a lazy arrogance.

Yes, it's Dawn. I worked with you in orthopaedics when you were an intern. You obviously don't remember, she answered. I just do two or three night shifts each month, like most others. My boyfriend would go looking elsewhere if I worked permanent nights!

Well, Dawn, I can't think how I could have forgotten working with you before! And let me say, you must have a very foolish boyfriend if he ever went looking elsewhere.

His eyes swept over her, taking in her big brown eyes and neat figure, but lingering too long at name-tag level. Bit of a sleaze, she thought, feeling slightly uncomfortable. One of her colleagues stuck her head in the door.

Dawn, can you come and help out in Bay Three? We need a female chaperone and everyone else is caught up.

Glad of the excuse to get away, she joined Mel in the corridor.

Just thought you might need rescuing from Matt, Mel explained. He's been coming on to all of us and you just don't need it in the middle of the night. He recently broke up with the second girlfriend since he started here and is after another.

Dawn laughed. I wondered what his problem was. He's actually pretty good looking. He shouldn't need to try so hard!

No, he shouldn’t. You're right, agreed Mel. He just can't help himself. Even when women are falling all over him, he's chasing another one. Should liven the place up even more anyway, having him around, and he's a bloody good doctor! But we do actually need you in Bay Three. A prostitute has come in by ambulance, beaten up by a client. Could you chaperone while they get some DNA?

Dawn hurried over to the cubicle where a couple of police officers waited outside, and obtained a handover from the ambulance crew.

Her name's Katie Miller. Found in a doorway, barely conscious. Alleged sexual assault, bruising and abrasions, possible head injury.

The paramedic recited her vital signs and treatment given and went on to explain Katie's initial reluctance to accept treatment. Apparently, she usually works in a brothel, but picked up this guy on her own. She only agreed to come with us, so you guys can get some evidence and maybe catch the bloke.

Entering the cubicle, Dawn found Katie sitting cross-legged and shivering on the barouche. After introducing herself, Dawn scurried off to get blankets from the warmer, and on her return gently commenced the routine checks and questions. There was a cut on her temple which was going to need some stitches, but not much could be done for the black eye or for the bruising of body and soul. Dawn explained about collecting DNA from her clothing and body and that she would stay with Katie throughout.

We'll do that bit first. And look, you can change your mind if you don't want to proceed, but this way we'll have what they need. Then I'll make you a cup of tea and Dr Singh will stitch up your head.

I won't change my mind. I'm going to go through with it. I just hope they can track the fucker down. Most blokes are not like that, otherwise I'd never have taken the chance. I know the cops think I deserved what I got, but I didn't. I just want him caught so he can't do it to anyone else.

Good for you! said Dawn. We've got a spare tracksuit you can change into and put the clothes you were wearing into this bag for forensics. Actually, you'll be more comfortable in trackpants than those working clothes you've got on!

They both giggled, as Katie threw back the blankets to reveal a pale body, falling out of a skimpy top, torn skirt which barely skimmed her bottom and long goose-pimply legs, where bruises were starting to appear. What do I look like? gulped Katie, giggle turning to tears. Fuckin' freak show, I am!

Nonsense, Dawn replied briskly. Get into the tracksuit and you'll look like most of our other guests tonight. In fact people will be wondering what the other person looks like.

Katie wriggled out of her shredded clothing, wincing with pain. Yeah well, I didn't go quietly. I gave him a few kicks and scratches. His face probably doesn't look too pretty. Fuckin' arsehole!

Dawn was pleased to see that Katie had got some spirit back. She's a survivor, she thought. She slipped on some gloves to secure the clothing bag, and suddenly gave a yelp as she felt a sharp jab.

Shit! Shit! Shit! she exclaimed, shaking her hand and grabbing her bleeding finger. Excuse the language! But ouch, that hurt!

Examining her torn glove and throbbing finger, Dawn realised that she had managed to get some of her blood inside the evidence bag. It transpired that some of Katie's clothing had been less than adequate before the attack, and at least one large safety pin had come loose, spiking Dawn as it tore through the bag. The police were able to double bag the evidence without compromising it, but Dawn was asked to provide a blood sample to eliminate her DNA from the investigation.

~ ~ ~

It was nearly morning and the end of her shift when Dawn popped her head in to check on Katie, who had been encouraged to stay the night to be monitored for any signs of concussion.

Feeling okay, Katie? 'Cause you can head off when you're ready. Just let them know at the nurses’ station when you go, and good luck with everything. The counsellor from the Sexual Assault Team will be in touch with you.

Katie rolled her eyes at that, climbed down from the barouche and gave it a shove. Fuckin’ uncomfortable thing! Sorry about your injury. Is it okay?

Dawn stepped into the cubicle, waving her bandaged finger and her taped arm where the blood had been taken. It looks far worse than it is. Just a scratch! The boss didn't even send me home, worse luck, but it's nearly home time now. Yay! she said, as she helped Katie into the tracksuit jacket. This is a donation from our volunteers, so you even get to wear it home. A real fashion statement, don't you think?

Katie rolled her eyes again, then picked up a box of disposable gloves. Could I take these? I go through a lot of gloves in my work.

Dawn looked a little puzzled.

Men go wild if you stick your finger in their arse, Katie explained.

Dawn giggled. Not when nurses do it.

Huh?

Suppositories, enemas…

Oh, right. Yeah, ouch, not nice, said Katie. So our professions have something in common. She pointed at some lube. I’m guessing my hourly rate is better than yours.

Dawn rolled her eyes. I’m sure. Here, have the lube as well. And two boxes of gloves. Keep safe, Katie.

You too, hon. She gathered her few belongings and a script for painkillers. Bye now, and thanks for everything. You've been great!

~ ~ ~

Dawn told Mel about Katie, as they walked to their cars together after their shift. Interesting how parts of the human body can be sexually charged at times and totally not at other times, she mused.

Just as well, considering all the nursing interventions required of us that involve every area of the body, said Mel. You heard the joke about the nurse who found a rectal thermometer in her pocket?

Yes, some arsehole had her pen. I’ve probably heard them all.

Thank goodness for infra-red thermometers!

Hear! Hear! said Dawn, with a chuckle. I told the police I'm happy for them to keep my DNA on the database. I've got no secrets and no intention of committing a crime.

Yes. They've got mine from when I was involved with that domestic violence case, do you remember? said Mel. Never a dull moment in our job, is there? See you tonight!

Yep! Sleep well! Drive safely! called Dawn as she climbed into her car.

One

New South Wales (NSW)

It was only a small newspaper report, on page nine in the Sydney Morning Herald of Friday 2 May.

Police divers have recovered a body from Lake Corabunna on the NSW south coast. It is believed to be that of a male aged in his early 20's. Cause of death unknown. The body is thought to have been in the water for between 20 and 30 years. Police are investigating missing person reports from that period to establish an identity.

Reading the notice, Detective Sergeant Ben Phelps of the Homicide Squad wondered how easy that was going to be. He'd been policing for over forty years and solving violent crimes for much of that time. He was well aware of the problems this discovery was going to raise, and with retirement not long off for him, it may prove to be one of his last cases. If not his last case. Because it was definitely going to be one for him and his team.

He then proceeded to issue a further press release, as the cause of death had been officially confirmed. It had been obvious from the moment the body had been hauled from the water. An axe blow to the back of the head. It was murder, and he invited members of the public with any information pertaining to the crime to come forward.

Ben had been called in by the local police within minutes of the gruesome discovery, found by an oyster farmer extending his lease. At the end of a gruelling day, he had gathered his team together to wind up proceedings. Lake Corabunna was an isolated spot and many wet and windy hours had been spent examining the dense woodland of the National Park in which it was located.

Well, let's hope forensics can narrow the time frame a bit, Ben had announced. And collect some DNA. Once we identify this chap, we can start making progress. Not much point looking at missing persons until we have a more accurate time of death. Thanks team. See you in the morning.

Meeting over, Ben had taken his time shutting down his computer and packing up his notes. Although keen to get home to his wife, he liked to wind down slowly and reflect on his initial impressions of a case. His many years of experience had taught him to rely on his instincts, and although he was aware that the young ones, especially the ones eyeing off his job, thought he was a boring old fart, it was well known that he got results. With his greying hair, twinkling blue eyes and comfortable paunch, his kind, grandfatherly appearance belied the reality of the tough cop who had earned the respect of colleagues and criminals alike. Over the years, he had remained honest, firm and immovable during times when corruption was rife within the force and had faced down some ruthless criminals. Cases involving missing people always got to him though, ever since his early days, and he was determined to get an outcome on this, possibly his last case.

~ ~ ~

Frustratingly for Ben, weeks went by as his team waited for anything that could kick-start this investigation. They had a corpse that had been violently dispatched and, conveniently for the perpetrator, had evaded discovery for a very long time. As yet no one had come forward to claim the body, or indeed with any information at all. The corpse had long been skeletonised, so they were reliant on forensic dentistry and anthropology to help out. There was a possibility that some DNA may be retrieved from the remains of the sturdy sail bag in which the victim had been enclosed, but it was all taking time and money. Presumably the body had been weighted at the time of disposal, but at some point early on when bumping along the floor of the lake, it had become trapped under a pile of logs and debris. This had prevented it rising to the surface once putrefaction had set in. All conjecture. Facts would be required.

In search of more local background, Ben travelled back to Corabunna. According to forensics, the murder had most likely taken place around the late 1980's. A retired local cop showed him the site of a former commune that had existed close to a boat-shed and landing, still in use.

It was a well run place. Bev Sadler was a drop-out from the public service. She used to be a social worker but decided that getting them back to nature was a better way to help young kids in trouble. These days you'd call her a greenie, back then she was a hippy. She came here way back in the seventies, said Michael O'Connor, referring to his old police notebook. My wife used to come out here to buy veggies and even took some yoga classes. There was nothing wrong with Bev. She had a lot of success with her methods.

Ben looked out at the tranquil scene. Apart from the boat-shed, which had been there for over sixty years according to Michael, no buildings remained, just a few vehicle tracks through bushland with scattered clearings and the lake glinting through the trees. Some kangaroos grazed in the nearest clearing and birds chittered and called all around them.

So do you think this body could have had anything to do with the commune? he asked Michael, feeling he could trust the older man's instincts.

Well, of course it's possible, and there was not much else happening down this way. Michael paused, giving it some thought. But Bev was pretty strict. She didn't allow any trouble. No drugs. Just hard work, meditation, good food. We never had a moment's trouble from them here, in all the years she was here. She only took on mildly troubled ones. No hard-core bad kids, if you know what I mean.

Sounds a bit like Operation Flinders over in South Australia. Heard of that? A mate of mine is involved, said Ben. They take groups of kids in trouble out into the bush to learn survival skills. Get great results. When I retire in a few months that's what I'd like to do.

Michael nodded sagely. The boot camp approach. I think Bev's was a bit softer. Flowers, seedlings and herbs. Potting sheds and yoga. But yes, the discipline idea was behind it all, so in that respect similar.

They walked down to the landing. It really is a beautiful spot, commented Ben, looking out over the lake towards the dunes, where the ocean beyond could be heard roaring in the distance. Black swans swam among the reeds close to shore, and in the distance he could see a small boat heading towards the oyster lease. Where will I find Bev these days? asked Ben.

Ah well, you're out of luck there, I'm afraid, Michael answered. She died. About ten years ago, I'd reckon. She moved down to Eden when the Parks took over here. My wife kept in touch with her. That's how I know. She continued in her work of helping people. Never looked for a reward or a big salary. Got sick and died suddenly. She was one of the best. Unique. But I'm afraid that doesn't help you at all. Her unorthodox methods meant no useful records have survived. I know that, because I tried to trace someone she'd worked with for a different reason. It was hopeless!

Ben was disappointed, but not deterred. Well, can you remember any of the clients, or anyone she dealt with at that time?

Michael pondered for a while. I don't see how they could help, but I can suggest two names. Dave Thomas and Dan Fielding. Dave had the local nursery Bev supplied plants to, and he's got a nursery now up on the outskirts of Sydney. Dan Fielding was one of Bev's greatest successes. He has a naturopath practice up in Byron Bay. Bev used to tell my wife all about his progress.

Ben jotted the information down and they headed back up the track to the roadway.

Thanks for that, Michael. As you'll remember from your days in the Force, information can come from unlikely sources and in unlikely forms, so you never know. Now, can I shout you a beer?

They got into their cars and headed off to enjoy a companionable drink and a yarn. Michael had all the time in the world and Ben, feeling confident that the Corabunna murderer was unlikely to strike again any time soon, felt he also had time for a beer and a chat.

As a young cop he had been overly conscientious, never allowing himself time to relax with colleagues. He'd married young and always preferred to hurry home leaving work worries behind him, and to immerse himself in the warmth of family life. It had not always been easy to leave work behind. Some cases just stayed with you. He scrolled through his play-list searching for something upbeat, to chase some memories away. Not his usual country sound with its broken hearts and jealous guys. Paul Simon going to Gracelands, where the Mississippi Delta's shining like a National Guitar. Yep that'll do nicely, he thought, following Michael's tail lights into town, as dusk settled around them.

Two

Anangu Pitjantjatjara Yankunytjatjara Lands (APY Lands),

South Australia

Lola Thorpe didn't see the newspaper item, newspapers being few and far between, and definitely out of date in this part of the world. However, every few months for the past few years, she’d googled Corabunna, just in case. And that is how she discovered that what was almost certainly Jack's body had finally been found.

She brewed a strong cup of tea and sat on the step of her little house, thankful that the community was almost deserted. Most people were away on cultural business and it was school holidays, so a lot of the kids had travelled away too. It gave her space to think. And remember.

She decided that they had probably done the right thing that awful night, twenty-five years ago, although the consequences had been terrible to live with. The main thing was that Misty Dawn had a good life. She had kept tabs on that for many years. Zoe had got some things wrong though. No one had come looking for Jack. It was as if he had never existed. She could remember those traumatic times as if they happened only yesterday.

~ ~ ~

It had started with a phone call.

Lola! It's for you, called Dave from the study.

Who is it at this time of night? she grumbled, knowing he wouldn't tell her. It drove her mad the way Dave would never tell her who was on the phone when it rang. He handed it over, rolling his eyes, which kind of gave it away. It must be her sister. Hence the late hour and the eye rolling.

Hi, Zoe. What's up? It's rather late!

Lola, you've got to come. I've done something terrible. I need your help now! Please come. I don't know what to do…

Zoe, calm down! What's happened? Tell me. I can't just come now, it's the middle of the night. Can't it wait till morning? reasoned Lola. You sound weird anyway. Are you stoned?

Her sister's voice sounded even more stressed than usual. No! Just come. Please!

Oh for goodness sake, Zoe, give me one good reason for driving forty minutes through the night to that God-forsaken place.

I think I've killed someone, said Zoe frantically. I don't know what to do.

Where are you going? asked Dave, looking up from his book, as Lola rushed through the living room, pulling on her coat and grabbing keys and bag.

Down to Corabunna. Zoe's in trouble.

Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Wait a minute! Your sister is always in trouble. You said you were going to leave her to it next time. Dave sounded exasperated.

I know, but she sounds crazy. I won't sleep till I know what's going on, said Lola, as she checked her purse and wound a scarf around her neck.

Do you want me to come? asked Dave, now resigned to the inevitable. Lola and Zoe had looked out for each other their whole lives. Not only identical twins, but pretty much left to their own devices ever since something literally unspeakable had happened to the rest of their family.

Definitely not! One of us has to be up in the morning to open the nursery and run the business. I'll call you. With that, she was out the door and running…

Lola didn't like night driving and was feeling anxious about Zoe and her little niece, Zoe's two-year-old daughter, Misty Dawn, so the forty minute drive to Corabunna was a nightmare.

She had been so happy having them live closer these last few months. Zoe had been arrested in a raid at a party in Melbourne and had been in danger of having her child removed. Lola had come to the rescue and with the help of her friend and ex-social worker, Bev Sadler, she had got them both into the unorthodox programme for troubled young people run by Bev at Corabunna. A community, founded by Bev, on some Crown Land by Lake Corabunna on the far south coast of New South Wales, where they grew organic plants and seedlings, supplying the nursery run by Lola and Dave in a large tourist town further along the coast. It had been working out well too. Zoe was relaxed and happier than she'd been for a while and Lola had been able to spend precious time with little Misty, her exceptionally lovable niece.

Worried thoughts crowded her mind as she concentrated on the road ahead, watching warily for kangaroos and wondering just what Zoe had got into this time. She was relieved when the turn-off to the lake appeared out of the darkness, and she slowly bumped down the tree-lined driveway leading to the community. The wind was getting up and the branches were moving restlessly above. The lake shimmered in the moonlight, until a veil of cloud smothered the moon and the silver water became a grey blur. She parked in a clearing near the dimly-lit caravan in which Zoe and Misty Dawn lived and picked her way carefully towards it.

Zoe! Are you there?

Yes. Shush! Misty's asleep. Her sister stepped out of the van, flourishing a torch. The hysterical Zoe from the phone call, had been replaced by a white-faced calm.

What's going on? asked Lola. Zoe led the way to the nearby woodshed, where to Lola's horror, she shone the torch on a body lying face-down by the woodpile. It was wrapped in a blood-stained blanket and Zoe pulled it back to reveal a young man who had clearly been killed by an axe blow to the back of his head.

My God! Zoe! Who is it? What happened? Did he attack you? Lola backed away, horrified.

It's Jack, the guy … you know, my boyfriend from Melbourne. He found us. He was going to take Misty if I didn't go with him, said Zoe, her voice catching.

So you hit him with the axe? gasped Lola in disbelief. How? What are we going to do?

Zoe took a deep breath and tried to explain. I pretended to go along with it. He’d bought drugs and whisky with him. I didn't plan to do it, but when he dragged me over here to get the car … Well, I just saw my chance. He never saw it coming.

Lola felt ill and leaned on the bonnet of Zoe's car, which was parked nearby, fighting back the nausea. Zoe covered the body and paced restlessly in and out of the woodshed. Lola tried again to get her head around what her sister had done. But why, Zoe? You've never ever been a violent person! I just don't get it.

Zoe stopped pacing and closed her eyes.