Amy and Evan retreated to the rooftop again that night, not at all prepared to face their new colleagues at the Latin Quarter. When they had entered the building that afternoon after Ned had let the truth out about the dirty religion Melbourne CI was, Barron had been wondering the halls, a curious and angry look upon his face. He had seen the three of them walk in together and had not looked happy. It frightened Amy. He seemed to be everywhere she turned.
The Mt Thomas duo settled into the deckchairs that sat on the rooftop and watched the sunset over Melbourne, chewing thoughtfully again on BBQ Shapes. Amy's face was contorted with confusion and fear. She leant forward in her chair and looked him squarely in the eye, seeking an answer so badly. "Am I blowing this all out of proportion Jonesy? Is it nothing? Am I being paranoid?" she was so unsure. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.
Evan just chuckled in response, but it was an apprehensive chuckle, not light hearted in the least. "No way Amy, you're not paranoid," he reassured her as strongly as he could manage.
"I'm so scared," she admitted quietly, sitting back in her chair. "I'm so scared that I'm out of my depth. That I know too much. That this wasn't the right position for me after all." She rubbed at her eyes tiredly.
Evan had nothing to say in reply and they both sat dejectedly out on the rooftop until it again became too dark and too cold to sit out there any longer.
Amy lay in bed that night, thousands of thoughts tumbling through her subconscious as she tried to sleep. Now not only was Alex laying heavy on her mind, but so was work, now more than ever. Ned had spoken with such grit and anger, because the force in which he worked for was so not the way it was supposed to be and he hated that. Amy could sympathise. It wasn't how she wanted it to be either. But what could they do? She tossed and turned and got little sleep.
She rose early and headed out to work just as the sun was rising over the city skyline. Her mind not really on the road, she drove towards headquarters, but when she was just streets away from the building, a swarm of cop cars caught her eye, all parked jaggedly in the carpark of the city's botanic gardens. In the middle of them all, parked neatly and straight was Ned's unmarked sedan. He wasn't inside.
Knowing something was wrong, Amy indicated, turned and pulled up on the side of the road by the gardens. She got out of her car and walked hesitantly towards the scene, unsure if she really wanted to see whatever was there. If this was an o.d she definitely didn't want to. She knew she'd throw up her breakfast. It'd been a long time since she'd seen a city overdose.
But it was no junkie with a needle sticking out of the crook of his arm. No, it was Ned, with three gaping bullet holes in his chest. Amy gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth as she did so, so as not to attract attention. But as always, Barron was just lurking behind the next corner, and they shared eye contact for a second as she took in the scene before her.
As she stood, rooted to the spot, Bronte James made her way through the throng of suits and walked up to Amy before looping an arm around her shoulder in sympathy. "I'm sorry Amy, it's Ned." It seemed to be all Bronte would squeak out, and Amy looked at her, her hand still over her mouth, her eyes still wide. There was no 'he was a fine officer' or 'we'll find the bastard'. Just five little words, breaking the horrifying news.
But Amy still asked, probably sounding more stupid than she realised. "Who? When?"
"He was out with Barron early this morning. They were here - surveillance on Dylan McMahon. Stupid little dickhead had a shottie. Opened fire the minute he saw them."
Amy just ran away. She ran down the street and back to her car, not able to think of anything else but running away. Bullshit they were on surveillance together, she thought to herself, her brain squealing erratically. Ned had given Barron a wide berth the whole time she had known them both. And especially not when he knew all he did about Barron, Dylan and Laura's game.
Things had suddenly got a lot uglier.
"Jonesy!" she yelled, rapping on the door to his little ground floor flat, so strikingly similar to the run down state of her own. "Jonesy! For Christ's sake, let me in!" her voice was already going hoarse.
The door sprang open, and Evan, in his trackies and singlet, stared sleepily back at her. "What?" he asked, standing aside to let her in.
"He's been popped!" she exclaimed, suddenly realising the need to lower her voice, now that she had his undivided attention. An experienced cop with more than a decade of cases under her belt, a death shouldn't have shocked her anymore. But this was different.
Jonesy was still half asleep, and rubbed at his eyes in confusion. "Who?"
"Ned!" she stared at him wide eyed, a look of pure panic ripping across her face at startling speed.
"What?" he repeated, more with it this time.
"Apparently out on surveillance with Barron, early this morning, at the botanic gardens." Amy shoved Jonesy's shoulder in an effort to make him catch on quicker and become more awake. "They were watching for Dylan McMahon," she revealed, nodding her head vigouressly at him.
"But Ned would never…?" Jonesy was mentally scratching his head, Amy could tell.
"He would never work with Barron," Amy confirmed, shaking her head at him to support her answer.
"And hasn't Dylan…?"
"Pissed off with Barron's rock of pure heroin? Yes sir." Amy plonked herself down on the couch and watched as Evan did the same beside her.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath.