There Is More Light Than Dark

Chapter Fifty Eight

Wednesday August 17

It was seven am and the small group of officers that would form the upgraded and intensified Peter Sampson search party were all waiting sleepily behind half empty coffee cups and cold toast.

Frank Young was there with a feeling of his own. He was quietly congratulating himself on giving McCoy the rope he needed.

'OK, so we have this alias that we think Peter Sampson is using to move around with. The information we have is that he is somewhere in Europe – he landed in Italy nearly four weeks ago and hasn't left any trace beyond that.'

'Deano, what are we dealing with here? What are you saying he has done?' Senior Constable Dunoon was asking what the other five in the office besides McCoy, Lewis and Young needed to know. McCoy thought for a second about how much they needed to know; how honest he needed to be. He still didn't really know himself what Peter Sampson had done or was capable of doing.

As he had considered doing for the last twenty minutes, he looked over to Harper Lewis who was sitting on a desk back from where McCoy and Young were standing. Her shirt and pants were crisp and clean, her badges straight and shining.

'Detective Lewis, you wanna fill them in?' He stifled the smile he wanted to show but he couldn't stifle the feeling that came with it.

Lewis stood and stared, just for a second, at McCoy. She didn't even need to clear her throat. The satchel was still under her desk, back in the office.

'We have a high degree of suspicion he might have murdered his wife 12 years ago via slow poisoning.' The group looked at each other and shook their heads.

'Yeah, I know. It's weird but if it's true, and we probably aren't going to be able to prove anything unless he confesses, it makes him a guy who is capable of doing something more.'

'What, you think he might have poisoned Avery Prosser as well?' Dunoon looks incredulously at McCoy. He'd seen enough NCIS to know this wasn't commonplace in Australia.

McCoy tilted his head towards Lewis. 'Why don't you ask the Detective leading the briefing, Dunoon?'

Harper Lewis didn't let one ounce of the blooming pride wash across her serious face.

'We are considering it.' Lewis didn't tell them that Dr. Reid had re-done Avery Prosser's autopsy in the last 36 hours and was due to submit her report to them today. They were hoping like hell she would find something the initial coroner had not. It wasn't about being right, McCoy had said to her, rather it would confirm a pattern, a capacity and a willingness to hurt others.

'We have let the Italian authorities know we are looking for him in relation to an unsolved murder case – we need then to jump to and take us seriously.'

'So what are we going to do here, today?' Another Senior Constable had stolen the words from Dunoon who was chowing down on his third piece of toast in five minutes.

'I am going to check and have forensics look at the damage to Doug Prosser's Merc sustained when we are thinking Avery or Vincent was driving it back in April- that GPS data should come through today. We've so far found it very difficult to get worthwhile contact from Peter Sampson's former employees. There are two, one of which we have had no response from, although we know she is in no danger – her partner tells us she simply doesn't want to talk to us. You'll find their details in today's dossier.'

'I need you two' – Lewis pointed at the two constables on her right – 'to check every place Vincent Sampson might normally be. Work, his house, friends, check social media from the last month or two. Who does he hang around with, where does he go? He can't just disappear.' Both Lewis and McCoy knew he could but tried not to consider it.

'And I want you two' – the two on her left – 'to do the same for Peter Sampson. I want you to try again for me to talk to the ladies who worked for him, his friends, golfing mates, neighbours near the house he has in Barwon Heads - anything. These two have both been missing for four and five weeks now and we need to know why.'

McCoy went via the kitchen for another coffee as he made his way back to his own desk and pumped his fist as he saw the Mercedes data had already come through. He clicked on the files attached until he found the map from the night Doug Prosser had described.

He clicked '5 minute intervals' so the map displayed showed time stamps for every point between 9:30 pm and 3:30 am the next day. McCoy smiled when he saw the map broaden.

'What. The. Fuck?' He sat back and zoomed in.

'LEWIS! You gotta come and see this!'

She walked over quickly, pulled up a chair and leaned in with McCoy. She used her finger to trace the path the Merc had taken on his screen.

The car had stopped short of the Margate Street, Barwon Heads holiday house by a couple of kilometres at 11:01 pm and been stationary there, essentially in the middle of nowhere, for nearly 40 minutes. It had then driven from near Barwon Heads for nearly two hours via backroads and dirt tracks to near Mt Cowley, a nowhere place for any conceivable reason. To the two detectives who looked at the map, unfamiliar with the territory they were looking at, it appeared to be smack bang in the middle of the Otway National Park. It was again stationary for nearly two hours this time before driving home the same way to Barwon Heads, arriving at the Sampson house just after 5:00 am.

McCoy checked his file – Doug Prosser's missed call from Avery was at 1:45 am.

So she was calling from this place in buttfuck nowhere at 1:45 in the morning? Then wouldn't tell her Dad what she wanted? McCoy was rattled but knew this counted.

He considered for a second Doug Prosser was protecting his daughter but then why tell him about the missed call at all? Or the car? No, that wasn't it.

And why protect the dead?

The two detectives looked at each other.

'We've gotta get going with this, detective.' McCoy could hardly hide his enthusiasm.

'You think we go to the two places they've stopped at as a priority?'

'That is exactly what I was thinking, Lewis.'

McCoy took the data and transferred it to his phone, plugging in the route and the precise location of the two stationary points. He picked up the packet of muesli bars that had been crushed in the top drawer for a few months and flung them over the desk to Lewis.

'This'll have to be our breakfast, hot shot.'

They filled their travel mugs quickly in the kitchen on the way out.

'Lewis – you can drive today.' Dean McCoy flung her the keys and strode quickly to the passenger side.

As Harper Lewis started the car, Dean McCoy plugged his phone into the car jack and put the map on the screen.

Dean McCoy was excited that the more he sniffed, the stronger the smell became.

But even he couldn't imagine just what had already transpired to this point, both around the beach hamlet of Barwon Heads and over in the once sleepy hills of Western Tuscany.