Blood Secret

by Jaye Ford

  The gun was gone.

  ‘What?’ Hayden had followed her as far as the bedroom door, hovering there as though he wasn’t sure whether to come or go, the tight, higher pitch of his single word conveying some comprehension of the moment.

  Except he wouldn’t understand what it meant and Rennie didn’t want to. She wanted to stay here and find Max. But Hayden was Max’s son – and he couldn’t stay. Not with her father capable of walking through the door.

  ‘We need to leave,’ she told him, returning the contents of her backpack with angry thrusts.

  ‘Is that money?’

  She picked up the plastic bag with the two thick rolls of cash and stuffed it into her pack. ‘Yes. Go do what you need to do in the bathroom, then get your bag and a warm top and long pants.’

  He frowned, a little annoyance in it now. ‘What for?’

  ‘We’re leaving.’

  ‘But we just got here.’

  Slow it down, she told herself. He hasn’t done this before, doesn’t know how it works and panic won’t help. ‘Someone’s been in the house, Hayden. It’s not safe for us here.’

  He glanced down the hallway as if he expected to see a figure standing at the other end. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He . . . they’ve been through the rooms.’ She zipped the pack.

  ‘Did they take anything?’

  ‘Yes.’ She cast a brief look at the wardrobe – both sides had been searched. The papers on Max’s shelf were scattered, the contents of the ashtray tipped out.

  ‘They didn’t take that money,’ Hayden said.

  ‘No.’ She closed the wardrobes and walked over to him.

  ‘Are you going to call the cops?’

  ‘Later. We should get out first.’

  Hayden stood in the doorway, not moving, not talking, just watching her like he was waiting for something more.

  ‘Come on, Hayden. Move.’ She pulled a breath as he left, memories flashing through her mind – of herself when she was younger than him, running for her bag, more scared of her mother’s wrath than the father who was lying in wait. If they were going to escape him, Hayden needed to do what he was told and she needed to be patient with him. Skills neither of them was proficient in.

  She walked the length of the living room while she waited for him, wanting to check the studio, knowing there wasn’t time. He was in the hallway again when she returned to the front entry, something determined in his eyes.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘I haven’t made that decision yet.’

  ‘What about Dad?’

  It was a fair question. She didn’t know how to answer it. ‘We can talk about it in the car.’ She opened the door.

  ‘No.’ Hayden stood in the shaft of light that flooded into the corridor, arms folded once more.

  She wanted to shunt him through the door like her mother would have. ‘There isn’t time to stand around and discuss it. We get out, then we talk.’ She turned to leave.

  He wasn’t finished. ‘So what if someone broke in? They’ve gone already and they didn’t even take your money. Big deal. We can call the cops.’

  The bright afternoon at her back made her feel exposed. She peered briefly around the empty neighbourhood then swung the door back to its lock. ‘It wasn’t a robbery, Hayden. The person who did it was looking for some­thing. He might come back and we don’t want to be here if he does.’

  He watched her a second. ‘Who was it?’

  ‘Someone looking for me.’

  She saw the deep breath of defiance as he pointed a finger in her face. ‘Then you go. I’m waiting for Dad.’

  She batted it away, raising her voice. ‘Max isn’t coming back here. Wherever he is, he’s not going to wander up the front steps and let himself in. But the arsehole who was here might and you have no idea what that will bring.’

  ‘You can’t make me go.’

  She wished she didn’t have to. She wished he’d toe the line for five goddamn minutes. ‘Cut the petulant kiddie bullshit, Hayden. You’re fourteen. Time to grow up. Something’s happened to your dad. He’s not lost and he hasn’t left. It’s something else. Something bad. And we’re in danger if we stay here.’

  ‘What would you know about danger? You’re just a fucking waitress. You make fucking coffee for a living. What would you know about anything?’

  Rennie had hoped to scare him. Standing here like this sure as hell scared her. She swung away from him, slammed the flat of her hand into the wall. ‘Jesus Christ, Hayden!’ She pushed past him into the living room, stomped across the room, barking through clenched teeth. ‘This was never meant to happen here.’ She picked up a cushion from the floor, threw it at the wall, cried out at the empty space in front of her. Fury and frustration and fear made her turn back to him, made words spill out of her as she marched towards him.

  ‘Don’t presume to know me. I am not a nice person. I’ve done bad things. But the man who was here is worse. He’s my father and he’s spent a long time wanting to hurt me. He’ll hurt you, too. He might have already hurt Max. What I know, Hayden, will keep you alive. What I know . . .’

  She stopped, realising she’d backed him into the hallway, that his eyes were wide, his mouth slack and that she’d said far more than she’d intended with a rage that shouldn’t have been aimed at him. She rubbed a hand over her face and forced air into her lungs. Hayden watched her with something new and a little unnerved in his eyes.

  35

  ‘I’m sorry, I . . .’ Rennie started then realised there was nothing she wanted to explain. ‘Can we just get in the damn car?’

  Hayden didn’t say anything this time, just picked up his bag and waited as she pulled the front door. Squinting in the glare, she scanned left and right along the street then led the way to the carport, trying to contain the emotions that had surged to the surface. ‘Bag on the back seat,’ she told him as she threw her own pack in.

  She reversed out of the driveway, glad to have the dual cab’s turbo engine underneath her, and drove before she knew where she was going, glancing towards the point but turning the other way, instinct taking her away from Haven Bay.

  Hayden spoke for the first time when she pulled onto the highway. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘North.’ It was the only direction that made sense. With Hayden’s mother in Cairns, Sydney was pointless. His grand­parents were up the coast in Yamba – it was a long way, at least eight hours’ drive and it was already three-thirty in the afternoon, but she could put him on a train for part of the journey. Getting him far away from Haven Bay was what counted. Joanne was up north somewhere, too. Rennie wasn’t sure where or whether she wanted to go there but it was an option. One of them.

  Making the turn onto the expressway, she worked the car into fifth gear and pushed the speed to a little over the limit. She kept her hands firm on the wheel, watching the traffic behind, the steady drone of the diesel engine and the beat from the radio becoming the background noise to the tense silence between them. Familiar and not, she thought. She’d left places with Jo a hundred times and it was always fraught with urgency and unfinished business. She’d never done it with anyone but her sister, let alone a dissenting kid who hated her.

  How had she got to this? What the hell had gone wrong? She’d just wanted a life for a while. Someone to love. Had she wanted too much? Not been good enough or generous enough or grateful enough? Or was it some kind of cosmic fucking joke to let her have it then snatch it away before her time was up?

  To take Max and make him pay for her sins?

  She wanted to shout and cuss and shake her fists. But Hayden had witnessed her fury once already. She tightened her fingers until they hurt, clenched her teeth until her jaw ached, told herself to pay attention and not crash the car and save her father the job of killing them.

  She heard Hayde
n through the ringing in her ears. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s your phone.’

  It took a second to hear it. The in-car system was trilling softly. Both phones were buried too deep in her backpack to hear which one it was. Max, please be Max. She hit the button on the dash. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Katrina?’ Reception was bad; the voice difficult to hear. She wanted it to be Evan but she wasn’t sure.

  ‘Yes?’ she answered warily, keeping her eyes on the road as Hayden’s head shot around.

  ‘It’s Evan.’

  ‘He found me. He’s been in the house.’

  There was silence over the speaker long enough to make her wonder if the connection had dropped out. ‘No, Kat. He’s in a hospital.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Sydney.’

  ‘Then he got out and he came up here. He was in my house this afternoon.’

  ‘It wasn’t him. He’s sick.’

  ‘Bullshit. You know what he’s like.’

  ‘I spoke to someone. They went to his room.’

  She hesitated, blood pounding in her head. ‘Then they saw the wrong person.’

  ‘Katrina, listen to me. I spoke to his parole officer. He’s not going anywhere. He’s got a brain tumour. It’s advanced. He’s dying.’

  The words felt like a slap across her face. Her arms went slack, her foot eased off the accelerator, her heart crashed against her ribs. Her father was dying? He would be gone from the face of the earth? He would never hunt her again?

  ‘Katrina? Are you there?’

  ‘Are you sure? Absolutely sure?’

  ‘Yes. It’s over, Kat. For good this time.’

  A tremor started in her gut, spread to her chest, thighs, arms, hands. A car sped by, its horn blaring.

  Evan’s voice was loud with concern. ‘Where are you?’

  In speeding traffic with a kid in the car and gorge rising in her throat. ‘I can’t talk.’ She hung up, tossed the phone, heard another angry blast as she swung off the expressway onto the narrow verge. Dirt scattered as she hit the brake. She had the door open before the car had finished rocking to its stop.

  ‘Stay here,’ she told Hayden and got out, the suck of wind tugging at her hair and clothes as a truck roared past. She lurched around the front of the car, heading for the guardrail, gripping it with both hands, staring into a steep, wooded drop as she gasped for breath. She waited for her stomach to empty itself but nothing came. Nothing but fat, hot tears that filled her eyes and fell like raindrops into the gully beneath her. It was over. Finished. It felt like skin had been torn from her.

  Over the noise of the traffic, she heard a crunch on the rubble, looked up and saw Hayden standing by the car. ‘I told you to stay put.’

  He opened his mouth, closed it again, glanced uneasily at the traffic. ‘That guy’s on the phone again.’ He held up the mobile.

  She wasn’t sure her legs would work. ‘Toss it here and keep an eye on the road.’ She caught the mobile. ‘Evan, sorry. I had to pull off the road.’

  ‘Who’s the boy?’

  ‘Max’s son.’

  ‘You took him with you?’

  ‘Someone broke into the house. I thought he was in danger.’

  ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘On the expressway. It’s not a good spot. I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She hung up and stared into the bush.

  Someone had been in the house, found her gun and taken it – and it wasn’t her father.

  PART THREE: SECRETS

  36

  Rennie paced the dirt beside the expressway, careless of the vehicles thundering past. She was running out of versions. Father-on-the-loose was over, never to rear its bloody head again. Now she was left with only one – that Max had taken the money and left her.

  Was it Max at the house? Had he used his key like Detective Duncan thought? Had he come back for something? For them? Was it bad timing that they’d been out or had he planned it that way?

  If he’d found the Glock, he’d found everything else – the cash, the ID, the photo. What would he make of it? And why take the gun – so she didn’t turn it on him when she learned the truth?

  Or was he in trouble? Had he taken the money after all and figured a weapon might come in handy?

  What have you done, Max?

  She glanced at the car. Hayden was in the passenger seat again, his head down. They were almost an hour from Haven Bay, seven from his grandparents. If she stuck him on a train, he’d probably get off at the next station and head straight back.

  She paced some more, thinking about Yamba and Jo and heading far north. If Max had left her, was there any point in going back to Haven Bay? It wasn’t her home without him.

  A huge road train roared just metres from her, making the earth shake and blowing grit so hard it stung her face. Whatever she was going to do, she needed to get away from here. As she slipped into the driver’s seat, she saw her backpack between Hayden’s knees, two plastic bags on his lap. ‘Hayden!’

  He looked up without a hint of guilt but it wasn’t his attitude that snagged her attention.

  ‘What the f . . .?’ She snatched up the bag with the zip lock. It held the few items she kept to identify herself: birth certificate, an old driver’s licence, Evan’s phone number in case her mobile died. There was a blue ribbon from a school carnival, a bronze medallion for swimming, her School Certificate. And the photo: Katrina, Joanne and their mother, Donna. It was taken in a park somewhere, the colour so faded it was almost sepia – Joanne with two fingers behind her mum’s head, Donna grinning and Katrina pulling a stupid face. Evidence that one day in their lives they’d been happy.

  Rennie knew what was in the bag to the last item, except now as she looked there was something else. Another photo.

  She’d seen it before but not in her backpack. On the computer at home. Her and Max in the backyard by the vegetable garden, his gran’s cottage behind them and a gorgeous blue sky overhead. She pulled it out.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ she snapped at Hayden.

  ‘From the backpack.’

  ‘No. This!’ She shoved the picture in front of his face.

  ‘It’s not mine. I found it in there.’

  She flipped it over.

  One line in Max’s messy scrawl: ‘If you leave, can I come too?’

  Rennie stared at the words, her heart beating hard.

  And she knew. Without a doubt.

  Max hadn’t left her.

  She had no idea how long the photo had been in her bag. Possibly a year. Possibly he’d put it there this afternoon as he was taking the gun. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the message on the back.

  Max wasn’t a complicated man. He didn’t wax and wane over ideas and needs. He didn’t suffer pangs of indecision, he didn’t agonise over what to do. He lived and loved. He lamented loss, he tried to do the right thing, he had nightmares and he was scared of the dark.

  He didn’t change his mind.

  If the photo had been there for a year, the sentiment hadn’t changed.

  If he’d put the photo there today, he was sending her a message.

  Either way, he was telling her something. That he knew about Katrina and he loved Rennie anyway.

  And it told her she’d never needed to search for clues to who he was. That she was a goddamn fool to have doubted him. She hadn’t stayed all this time because she was complacent. She’d stayed because she could trust him. Because there’d never been a reason to leave. Because he loved her. Whatever the hell had happened, whatever the hell he’d done, he was the one to trust.

  And now she had to find him.

  She started the big engine and pulled into the high-speed traffic.

  ‘Ho
w much money is it?’ Hayden asked.

  Three minutes ago, she would have told him it was none of his damn business. Right now, she couldn’t think of anything to tell him but the truth. ‘A couple of thousand.’

  ‘Whoa.’

  ‘Put it back. The other bag, too.’

  He did and zipped the pack. ‘Why did that guy call you Katrina?’

  He’d probably seen and heard enough in the last couple of hours to have a right to know more. ‘It used to be my name.’

  ‘Does Dad know you changed it?’

  ‘No.’

  He paused. She wasn’t going to pre-empt him.

  ‘Who was the guy on the phone?’

  ‘A cop. Retired cop. A friend.’

  ‘Who’s dying?’

  ‘My father.’

  The next pause was longer. Comparing fathers or digesting the information.

  ‘Is that why you went psycho back there? ’Cause he’s dying?’

  Yeah, it probably looked psycho. ‘Yes. Is that all?’

  ‘S’pose.’

  ‘Good. I have to think.’ There was an exit ramp in five k. She had to decide what to do with Hayden by the time they reached it.

  Someone had been in the house and her Glock was gone. If it was Max, the only problem was whether he knew how to use it. If it wasn’t, someone else had a lethal weapon – and the question was, why take it? Just in case or because they planned to use it? There was no way of knowing without knowing why they were there.

  She pictured the study, the toppled notes, the open drawers in the filing cabinet. It’d been searched. Maybe if she could figure out what else was missing, she could work out where to look for Max. She remembered the password protection on the computer, the lists of numbers in his Toronto office. She dropped a hand to her back pocket. The page from his drawer was still there.

  Hayden was slumped in his seat now, watching the scenery fly past. He knew more about computers than she did. He stuffed about on the one at home for hours some visits, whole days during school holidays. Maybe he could get past Max’s security. The person with her gun was a risk but they’d broken in when no one was home and searched the place. Why would they go back?