The Devil's Garden by Debi Marshall

Morfesse recalls. 'We were told that we couldn't get our hands on the FBIS documents because the internal affairs unit, exempt under the FOI Act, had created them. They also told us that if Falconer had created any documents they were also exempt because as head of the police department he was also head of the internal affairs unit. So when the whole story came out, it didn't look great.'

16
    Five hundred people attend Jane's funeral at Karrakatta cemetery on a sunny August morning, seven days after the discovery of her body. Her white coffin is adorned in pink, mauve and white flowers, her favourite song, 'Distant Star', played as mourners leave the church. Macro taskforce officers move unobtrusively through the crowd, blending in and watching to see who attends the funeral. All too often, the killer himself will move amongst the mourners, taking ghoulish pleasure from their grief, feeling momentous joy at his power to take a life. The Rimmers take no comfort in a religious faith, but they are nurtured by the speeches Jane's friends give about the generous-spirited, loving young woman who always had a ready smile.
    After the service they adjourn to their local pub, inviting everyone, including Macro officers, to join them. Trevor puts $1500 on the bar for drinks. Tortured with grief, Jenny unashamedly drinks to her daughter's memory, alcohol numbing the pain as the evening wears on. She smiles wistfully. Jane was her best friend, she says. She would have understood. She would not have judged her for drinking too much that night. Shattered with grief, Jane's siblings, Lee and Adam, mingle amongst the crowd of mourners, trying to keep a brave face.
    The rain has waterlogged Jane's car. It has sat outside her flat, water pouring through the warped sunroof and drenching the seats. A few days after Jane's funeral, Trevor climbs in to return it to the car yard. Here, alone in the quiet of the car's interior with water sloshing around his ankles, he puts his head on the steering wheel and sobs.
    Christmas 1996. There is no family celebration, just an overwhelming realisation that Jane is not present at the table. The phone rings. It is Don Spiers, the first time, before or since, that he has approached the family. His voice is choked with emotion. 'I'll keep this brief,' he says. 'We are thinking of you all. We know you must miss Jane as much as we miss Sarah.'

17
    Every year on Jane's birthday, 12 October, Jenny and some friends make the pilgrimage to Karrakatta, sitting in front of the plaque they erected for her in front of a baby pine tree. The plaque is simple. 'In loving memory of Jane Louise Rimmer. Taken from us on 9th June 1996, aged 23. Precious daughter of Trevor and Jenny, dearly loved sister of Lee and Adam. Our distant star, in our hearts forever.' They celebrate her life with Blush champagne, flowers and cake. Trevor goes alone every Saturday to talk to his daughter. It is, he smiles ruefully, the only chance he gets to see her. The questions never go away. She had had a fair amount to drink. Did she get into a car, thinking it was a taxi? Was she dragged into a vehicle as she walked down a dark street? Was she seduced in by a smooth talker who appeared to be on the level? What the hell happened to their Janie? It drives them mad, not knowing.
    Jenny's mother tries to give them comfort. 'She's in a better place, now. She'll never get sick, never get any older, never be unhappy.' Jenny sees the flip side. Trevor will never walk her down the aisle. She will never have children. She loved life; she would have embraced getting older. They have mountains of cards and letters from friends and strangers, offering their prayers and support. They treasure one from Jane's friends, which arrives shortly after she is found. 'I remember once, not long after Sarah Spiers's disappearance, we were going to catch a train home late one night after having drinks at the Shenton Hotel. Jane offered to pay for a taxi for us both because