by Jaye Ford
‘Where’s the rest of it?’ he’d asked.
‘This is it,’ she said as though there were other people who carried their entire lives in backpacks.
She’d eventually put on a little weight, filling the spaces between her ribs, and conceded to owning a few more possessions: three pairs of shoes, a dress, the painting gear. Layers of her were slowly eased away to reveal new, delicate ones underneath – and he’d been fascinated and intrigued by each one.
Not now, though. As he leaned against the wall, trying to gather his strength to crawl again, he wasn’t charmed or captivated or entertained by her mystery.
He was fearful of it.
*
Rennie threw the phone at the bed, angry with her sister. Maybe Joanne was right, maybe she was a sucker. Maybe this whole thing was going to turn out badly whichever version proved right. But she was wrong about the fairytale. Rennie hadn’t come to Haven Bay pretty and defenceless, Max wasn’t a rich prince and he wasn’t here to save her.
And surviving her father wasn’t enough anymore.
She needed to find Max for her own sake, possibly for his sake – whatever it meant, whatever the outcome. If he’d left her, then she’d mark it up as another shit chapter in her life and move on. If it was Anthony . . .
She stalked to the window and stared angrily into the street. If her father had killed Max, she’d embrace her DNA, turn the tables on Anthony and hunt him down – and this time, she wouldn’t miss.
27
The priority now was to find Max. Rennie had kept secrets to protect herself and now it was possible those secrets had hurt him. It was time she ’fessed up so James and Detective Duncan started looking in a few more places.
Rennie took a couple of seconds to down some of the coffee Naomi had delivered, listening to the sounds in the house as she fortified herself. The TV was on, which meant Hayden was more than just awake. At least she could count on him to be preoccupied while she prostrated herself before Naomi and James.
Hayden graced her with a silent glance when she passed between him and the telly. Naomi was on her own at the window, two fists kneading the small of her back.
‘Are you okay?’ Rennie asked.
‘My back’s a bit achy today, that’s all. What about you? Is your sister coming to stay?’
‘No. She’s not the staying kind. Where’s James?’
‘In the study having another go at Max’s password.’
The spark of irritation she usually felt for James flared but she wasn’t entirely sure he deserved it this morning. He’d accused Max of fraud yet he’d also found Hayden and he was trying to help.
He was shutting a drawer in the desk when she stepped into the study and he looked up at her as though he was running out of ideas. ‘Still no luck. Have you had any thoughts on the password?’
‘I’m not sure you need a password. I think it could be something else.’
His mouth made a quick, downwards curl of doubt. ‘I know you don’t want to believe me but the money is missing.’
‘It’s possible this isn’t about him. It’s possible his disappearance is about me.’
James’s pupils found hers, the eyelids tensing as though he was attempting to read her subtext before deciding how to respond.
‘We need to talk,’ she told him. ‘Naomi, too.’
‘I’m coming,’ Naomi called quietly from the hallway. She appeared with a steaming mug that she passed to James. ‘Here, James. I made you some tea.’
Without a glance at Naomi, James set the mug on the mousepad, swung the desk chair to face Rennie and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for an explanation.
She wasn’t sure how to start. It was a long story and she didn’t want to take all day about it or tell more than they needed to know. And she didn’t want Hayden hearing it. She reached around Naomi, swung the door and shut the three of them into the tiny room. Naomi leaned against the jamb and Rennie backed up against a filing cabinet but with James’s shoes overhanging the base of the swivel chair, there was barely a metre of floor space between them. The atmosphere felt instantly close and tense.
‘What is it we need to talk about?’ James asked, more impatient than curious.
It was brutal and shocking however she told it; there was no point trying to soften it. ‘My father murdered my mother when I was fifteen. His goal was to kill my sister and me, too. He almost achieved it when I was twenty-three. He’s been in prison since then. I’ve just found out he was released five months ago. It’s possible he came here looking for me and found Max first.’
While James watched her with a flat, unreadable expression, Naomi’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, God, Rennie. I’m so sorry about your mother. Oh, Rennie, I . . .’ Her voice trailed off, not finishing the sentence. Or maybe it was the thought she didn’t want to follow through.
‘Why would your father be looking for you now?’ James asked.
‘Obsession. Revenge. I shot him twice. He promised he’d find me.’
‘Oh, Rennie. Your own father.’ Naomi reached out and clasped her arm.
‘It wasn’t your average family, Naomi. Nothing like what you have here.’ She glanced at Naomi’s swollen belly and wondered if she’d have a chance to see the child inside.
James bypassed the sentiment. ‘What do you mean found Max?’
Rennie swallowed hard, aware of the closeness of the bodies in the room and the family ties that bound them. ‘I don’t know. The blood in the car park . . . it’s possible my father hurt Max. Maybe he saw him with me and wanted him out of the way or . . . or he spoke to him, asked about me and they got into a fight.’
His pupils did tiny side-to-side flicks as he thought. ‘Wouldn’t Max know not to talk to him?’
‘No.’
‘But if he knew your father might turn up one day?’
‘He didn’t. He doesn’t know anything about my family.’
His eyebrows came together in reproach. ‘Jesus, Rennie. Don’t you think he had a right to know?’
Yeah, in hindsight. ‘I changed my name. The whole point of that is not to tell anyone. And my father wasn’t due out for another four years. I thought I had plenty of time to break the news about my screwed-up gene pool.’ Or leave before it showed up.
Silence filled the room, sucking the oxygen out of it. Rennie wished she could open the door, let a draught in, do something other than stand and stare James down.
Naomi shifted her feet and pushed fists into the small of her back.
Rennie held out a supporting arm. ‘Do you need to sit down?’
‘It might help.’
Rennie shuffled sideways to let her closer to the desk. James rolled the chair back a tad, clearing a space on the desk. Hadn’t he noticed the size of her?
‘It might work better if you gave her your seat,’ Rennie suggested pointedly.
He stared at her a moment, then stood and made way. Geez, what would he be like after the baby arrived?
‘Is it just the blood?’ James asked as Naomi was still lowering herself into the chair. ‘Because Phil Duncan seemed satisfied the fight at the pub would explain that.’
Of course he wouldn’t take her word for it. ‘If it was just the blood, I wouldn’t be telling you any of this.’ She held up a thumb to start counting off the other elements. ‘I heard someone behind the back fence after you left on Saturday night.’ She raised her index finger. ‘There was a man in the main street yesterday taking photos of the cafe. I haven’t seen my father for a long time but the age and size seemed about right.’ Middle finger. ‘And our car was searched yesterday when it was sitting in the carport. I discovered it last night after Pav and Trish left.’
James angled his face away, running his eyes across the shelves above Max’s desk as though the connection between the pieces might be up there. ‘Wha
t are the police saying?’ he finally asked.
‘I haven’t spoken to Detective Duncan about my father yet. Like I said, I just heard about his release myself. That’s who I intend to speak to next.’
‘So you didn’t hear it from the cops?’
‘No.’
He waited a couple of seconds, maybe hoping she’d fill the silence with details but she figured he had enough. When she didn’t, he moved on. ‘What did your father do exactly?’
‘He’d find us and watch us. Sometimes he’d break in and search our stuff. Sometimes he’d let us know he was there, make threats.’
‘So if most of what he did was watch and make threats, it’s a bit of a stretch to think he’s done something to Max. If he’s here.’ He was searching for rationality, as though Anthony Hendelsen’s behaviour made sense.
‘He murdered my mother with a large knife. A fair clue that watching and threatening wasn’t his main game. He beat people up, he trashed places. He sliced me open before I shot him and promised he’d find me and make me pay. And he’s just spent more than a decade in maximum security. He’s not going to come out of a place like that all nice and reformed. If he’s here.’
He patted at the air with both hands like he was tamping down her sudden anger. ‘I’m just trying to understand, Rennie. We’re both on the same side here.’
‘Are we, James? You’ve been trying to prove Max did the dirty on both of us.’
‘Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry. We should consider every possibility at this stage. So, if I can ask a question without upsetting you, how do you think he would he find you if he’s been in prison for years?’
She ignored the condescension – arguing wasn’t going to find Max. ‘There are plenty of ways to locate someone if you’ve got time and you know how to look.’
Anthony watched them long enough as kids to learn their mother’s habits. It was difficult to be unpredictable when she had two young daughters who needed to be fed and educated, and most people are happy to answer questions when you show a photo of two little girls and say you just want to see them. The second time around, he got good at calculating where’d they’d go to find work – when your skills are limited to pulling beers and serving coffee, it cuts down the search area. He’d enlisted some prison mates and used private investigators, too, still spinning the missing daughters tale.
James’s eyes slid away from Rennie to the shelves again, maybe deciding how plausible it was. ‘So if your father’s here, you’re at risk, too,’ he said, his attention back on her.
‘Yes.’
Naomi’s hand flew to her lips. ‘Oh, Rennie, I didn’t think of that.’
‘You should leave for a while. At least until Max turns up,’ James said as though the decision was made. ‘Naomi said you were talking to your sister before. Could you stay with her for a while?’
Rennie felt one side of her mouth curl up at the concept that Joanne and James had something in common. ‘No. I’m not leaving until I know where he is.’
‘There are other people looking for him, Renée.’
But they might look in the wrong places. ‘No, I think you’re right about the “if”, James. I don’t know that my father is here. So I’m . . .’
The door jerked against Rennie’s back as Hayden called from the other side. ‘Uncle James? Are you in there?’
She pulled the door and the sight of him felt like a replay of yesterday, except his face when he saw the three of them turned to apprehension instead of resentment.
‘Have you found Dad?’
‘No, honey,’ Naomi told him.
‘Then why are you all in here?’
‘We’ve been talking,’ Rennie said.
He eyed her suspiciously. ‘So I wouldn’t hear?’
‘Yes, so you wouldn’t hear.’
Hayden looked about to demand to be told what was being said but his attitude faltered as he moved his eyes between their faces. When he looked back at Rennie, there was uneasiness and determination in them. ‘When are we going to look for Dad? You said last night we’d go look for him.’
She’d forgotten but he obviously hadn’t. He’d changed out of his PJs, put on shoes and had a cap in his hand. Right now, she needed to talk to Detective Duncan and she didn’t plan to wait for the cop to take his time coming to the house – and Hayden in tow wasn’t going to work. She glanced across the room, saw Naomi with a fist pushed into her spine again. She needed a hot water bottle not a sullen teenager. ‘James, can you . . .?’
He shook his head before she’d finished, directing his words at Hayden. ‘Sorry, mate, I’ve got to go into the office and hunt down some stuff that might help find your dad.’
Or the money he’d taken. James was right – Hayden didn’t need to have anything to do with that process.
Could she leave him here, with the doors locked and instructions to stay put? Would Hayden do what he was told? She hesitated on the edge of asking him. There was surliness and a little fear in the way he waited for an answer – and a plea. Not the supplication of a spoilt kid wanting his fourteen-year-old needs met. It was something new. A plea to let him do something, to give him a job and a chance to help his father.
Well, shit, Rennie understood that kind of thinking. She understood, too, about being fourteen and frightened – and that moving and acting and making decisions burned off the adrenaline that fear poured into your system. And maybe she was a sucker for a kid with sad eyes. ‘Okay. But I have to talk to the cops first.’
‘Then we look for him after that?’
She wasn’t letting him do any searching if Anthony was here. ‘Yes.’
28
Detective Duncan was in his car when he answered his mobile. Rennie told him she’d meet him at the station. He didn’t ask why.
She didn’t want to waste time so while Naomi fussed in the kitchen, cleaning up the toast and coffee makings, she moved quickly through the house checking the locks, Joanne’s words ringing in her ears. Have you still got the Glock?
She couldn’t take a loaded pistol – any kind of pistol – to a police station. Carrying it in the car was a risk, too, with a nosy, unpredictable teenager aboard. So she pushed her pack into the back of the wardrobe, out of sight but easier to grab than from the top shelf.
Naomi was waiting for her by James’s car when she came out. ‘It’s not what you think,’ she whispered as she hugged Rennie. ‘It’ll be okay. I know it will. It has to be.’ She held Rennie’s hand against her belly. ‘Squirt needs both Aunty Rennie and Uncle Max to be here.’
The mound of baby under Rennie’s palm felt firm and full and warm. She had little to offer a child beyond babysitting but she wanted to be there anyway – for herself, if not for the baby. As she held the door for Naomi, her gaze wandered to the car’s rear seat where a large, cardboard box filled the space. She read the label on top. ‘Oh, you’ve got the cot at last.’
‘Better late than never, huh?’ Naomi laughed. ‘James finally picked it up yesterday. It’s only been waiting at the store for a month.’ She cocked her head at the back seat. ‘I just hope it gets assembled before the baby arrives.’
And again: What would he be like after the baby arrived?
‘Let me know what the police say,’ James told her across the roof of the car.
‘Let me know how you go, too,’ she returned firmly.
As they left, she eyed Hayden warily as he headed towards the carport, remembering last night’s disappearing act. If Anthony Hendelsen was in Haven Bay, Hayden needed to stay close.
‘Listen, Hayden,’ she said as she caught up with him at the back of Max’s car. ‘You need to do what I tell you, okay?’
His blink was intentionally slow, the resentment clear.
‘Don’t give me that.’
‘What?’
Possibly there was
some tried-and-true method for making a teenager do what you want but she had no idea what it was, only that a threat in the right place would get the job done. ‘Okay, fine. This is how it’s going to go. There are things I need to do and you’re going to have to wait while I do them. You stuff me around for five minutes and I put you on the first train to Yamba and you can see this out with your grandparents, you got that?’
His face screwed up with the beginnings of an indignant retort.
She didn’t wait for it. ‘You got that?’
‘Geez, what the . . .?’
‘Do you understand?’
‘Yes. All right. Whatever.’ The last word was tossed over his shoulder as he opened the passenger door. That was fine; she didn’t need him to be polite, just obedient.
Brood was what he did as she drove out of Haven Bay, slumped in his seat, face turned to the passenger side window. The silence gave her a chance to think through her options with Detective Duncan – a past like hers took some explaining and the fact she hadn’t been honest from the start might be the least of her problems. Whichever way the conversation went, it was going to have its rough moments, no getting out of that. She just wanted to make sure that at the end of it, the cops understood they needed to look for Max. She turned onto the highway and stepped on the accelerator.
Maybe it was the speed that gave Hayden some extra nerve. ‘Why have you always got the shits?’ he said.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Me?’
‘Duh.’
She turned away to chuckle silently. ‘My older sister set a bad example. What’s your excuse?’
‘I haven’t got the shits all time.’
‘No? What do you call it then?’
He didn’t answer so she flicked a look at him across the car and grinned a little. Oh yeah, he had the shits now.
By the time they’d parked and walked to the door at the police station, Hayden’s mood seemed more sombre than ticked off. The gravity of his father’s situation was hard to miss from there.
Detective Duncan’s blue eyes scanned her flatly as he crossed the foyer to meet them, different to the breakfast-munching distraction by the lake, not so relaxed as yesterday. Had Evan spoken to him already? How much would she need to explain? He covered his expression with a smile. ‘Renée, how you doing?’
