But he was trying, and I was too worn out to fight. “You think it is all connected?” I asked.
Dad’s face lightened; he was relieved to have gotten a response out of me. “I don’t know. Maybe. Except I can’t see a link between Sarah and everything else.” He cast a frustrated glance back at the wall. “About the only thing I’m sure of is that I need to confirm whether anyone has actually seen or spoken to Alexander Sholt since the fire.”
“His dad saw him,” I pointed out wearily. “He said Sholt left for the city this morning, remember?”
“Someone else.”
I didn’t see why that would be important— Wait. Suddenly I wasn’t so tired. “You think it might have been Sholt who died in the fire? But why would his father lie?”
“Family pride? He could be trying to buy time for Derek Bell to cover up whatever Alexander was involved in. Or he could be moving his son’s money around, hiding funds he doesn’t want uncovered in a police investigation into Alexander’s murder.”
That made sense. Not much else did. “If Alexander Sholt died first, who killed everybody else? Bell?”
“Possibly, but…” Dad shook his head. “I can’t see it. He seemed genuinely shocked this morning when those bodies were found.”
He turned back to the wall, frowning. I walked over to stand with him. The pieces of this case had just been flung up into the air, and I was struggling to put them into an order that formed a coherent picture.
I knew this was a victory, of sorts—Dad was properly back to work. A few days ago, I would have been jumping for joy. Now I wanted more. I wanted him to talk to Aunty Viv. I wanted him to go to Grandpa Jim’s party. I wanted him to reconnect with the world. Because then I could…
I turned my face away from Dad.
Then I could go.
I loved my father. But I knew something that I hadn’t known before—at least, not all the way to my bones, the way I knew it now.
I didn’t belong here anymore.
It was morning and I was standing by the window, watching Dad take the sticky notes off the wall to keep them from the prying eyes of whoever cleaned the rooms. We’d sat up half the night poring over those notes and gotten nowhere. Then Dad had fallen asleep and I’d paced the room, thinking. Only not about the case.
I was trapped between two different sides to the world, and not truly a part of either one. But there was no changing that unless I could change Dad. I had to help him become the Michael Teller who could accept who I was now. And if he never did become that person, I guessed I was here forever. But I wasn’t going to think about what years upon years of this dreary half-existence would be like. I wasn’t thinking about anything that weighed me down. I still wanted to be a butterfly girl, even if I couldn’t fly away.
Dad was taking a long time with those notes. If he didn’t speed up, he’d be late to meet up with the city cops, who’d arrived early this morning. He just didn’t seem able to remove the last note, the one that said SARAH BLUE. He kept reaching for it and then letting his hand fall.
“Did you figure out a connection between Sarah and everything else?” I asked.
“No.” He finally took the note down. But he didn’t tuck it away in his suitcase with the others. Instead, he stood with it cupped in his hand, holding the paper as if it was something fragile and precious.
“It wasn’t done right,” he said softly. “The investigation, after she disappeared. That file…” He shook his head. “There are things you do when a kid goes missing, and none of them were done. Someone should have noticed.”
“It’s no big surprise that Derek Bell’s dad didn’t get called out for sloppy work,” I said. “He was the boss cop back then.”
“That wasn’t why no one noticed,” Dad replied. “Or not the only reason. If a white girl had gone missing like that, just vanished on her way home from school”—he shook his head in disgust—“there’d have been an outcry. It would have been on the news, in the papers, something everyone talked about on the street. Instead, the only people speaking for Sarah—her family, her friend—were ignored.” His mouth twisted. “Gerry Bell got away with not doing enough because people didn’t care enough. No one was paying attention.”
And Dad took that personally. He pretty much took all injustice personally, but especially anything to do with Aboriginal people not being treated right. And as he’d told me a thousand times over, growing up in his father’s town had taught him that one person in power could do bad things, but it took lots of people to let the bad things continue.
Dad didn’t want to be one of the people who didn’t pay attention. He didn’t want to be anything like his father either.
I’d always wanted to be exactly like mine. Only I was Mum’s daughter too. I knew how to leave behind the things that had to be left behind. And it suddenly dawned on me that Dad—who carried the weight of unjust things—might be holding on to something that wasn’t his to bear.
“Dad? You do know that you couldn’t have saved me, right?”
Dad bent to put the note away, placing it gently into his suitcase. Then he straightened up and spoke in a voice so low I had to edge forward to catch the words. “It was my job to keep you safe.”
“You couldn’t protect me from an accident! No one could.”
He sniffed and wiped at his eyes. My father was crying. I wished I could hug him. But the only way I could reach him was with words.
“If you’re not going to the birthday because you think anyone blames you…”
“That’s not why,” he answered huskily. “It’s the cousins.”
That made no sense. “But you love the cousins! I love the cousins!”
His gaze slid to the floor. “I know. That’s why I shouldn’t be around them.”
“Why not?”
“Because I failed you!” He looked up at me, the tears rolling down his cheeks. “I couldn’t keep you safe. I couldn’t take care of my child. I don’t deserve to go to birthday parties and watch the cousins grow up, when you’ll never…”
I finished the sentence for him: “When I’ll never grow up.”
I finally understood. I even understood why he’d snarled at me back at the hospital car park: I’d jabbed at an open wound. I could see in his face how raw and bleeding this pain was for him.
Dad half sat, half fell onto the bed. I stayed on my feet, my head spinning. My father was impossibly turned around inside his own mind. I groped my way to more words—any words—that might make a difference, fumbling for a way to show him how far he was from being who he should be.
“Dad, you’re…You know, I told Catching you were the person I’d call if I was in trouble. But now you’re not…you can’t…”
I was getting stupidly mixed up, and I had to do better. I tried again.
“You taught me to be fair, Dad, and what you’re doing’s not fair to anybody. Especially me. How do you think I’m going to feel if I’m the reason you make everybody miserable? And if you can’t see how wrong you are—how unfair you’re being, to yourself and everybody else—then you’re not the dad I know.”
I wasn’t sure if I’d made sense to him. He was living in an upside-down world, believing upside-down things. But after a second, he whispered, “I’ll try.”
Did that mean he’d try to go to the birthday party? Or just try in general? I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t think he was either. But at least he understood that he needed to change. For now that was enough. It had to be, because it was obvious he wasn’t up to talking about this anymore.
Dad lumbered to the bathroom and splashed cold water onto his face. Then he grabbed his car keys, and we headed to the station to meet the city cops.
I talked as we motored along—prattled, really, like Allie, but only about the case. I didn’t say anything new, and neither did he, but that didn’t matter.
What mattered was for him to be able to have a conversation without his voice breaking or his eyes tearing up, and by the time we reached the station, he’d pushed his feelings far enough away to be able to do that.
I’d fully expected Derek Bell to get in Dad’s way at every available opportunity, since he obviously wasn’t going to be happy about the management of the case being transferred over to Dad and the city cops. But Bell wasn’t even there. He was out with Allie, interviewing the people who lived on the street where the bodies had been found. That meant the handover of the case went pretty smoothly. It also meant it was all kind of boring.
I hung about, becoming increasingly restless as the morning wore on. Dad kept glancing at the door, waiting for Bell and Allie to return. Only, when Allie finally did arrive, she was alone. And she looked a little worried.
Dad strode over. “Derek not with you?”
“I was actually hoping he was here.” She glanced about the station as if she was going to find him in a corner somewhere. “He called last night to say he wasn’t feeling well, and said that if he didn’t show up this morning, I should just do the interviews without him. So I did.”
“Have you heard from him today?”
“No. I’ve tried calling, but he’s not answering.” She bit her lip. “Do you think…I mean, what if he’s collapsed or something? He really didn’t look well yesterday afternoon—he was sweating and shaky and so pale. I thought he might have food poisoning.”
I snorted. “He was scared. On account of how the web of lies he’s a part of is slowly unraveling. Maybe he’s done a runner, Dad!”
Dad gave a small nod. To Allie, he said, “Tell you what, why don’t we go out to Derek’s place and check on him?”
“You think we should? He’s never liked people dropping by, but I really am worried. I can go on my own, though—I’m sure you have other things to do.”
“It’s no problem,” Dad replied. “I have a few things to confirm with him anyway. I’m assuming it won’t take long to get to his house?”
Allie widened her eyes in mock outrage. “Are you trying to say this place is small? I’ll have you know Derek lives on the edge of town.” She grinned. “So, no, it won’t take long to get there.”
Derek Bell’s house was a big old weatherboard a little out of town and well away from any neighbors. I looked around as I followed Allie and Dad up the front path, but there was nothing much to see: dust, trees, crows, sky. All of it quiet and still.
Dad pushed the doorbell. It chimed loud in the silence, but nobody answered.
Allie pulled out her phone. “I’ll try calling again.”
After a few seconds, there was a ringing from inside the house, faint but clear. Derek Bell’s phone was in there somewhere. So where was he?
Dad frowned and went to the nearest window, cupping his hands around his eyes and peering through the glass. He shook his head in frustration. “There’s something in the way. I can’t get a clear view.”
Allie darted over to the window on the other side of the door. “There’s something blocking this one too. Wait, there’s a gap! I can see—” She stepped back with a gasp. “He’s on the floor! I think he’s unconscious!”
Dad charged the front door. Once: it rattled on its hinges. Twice: it rattled some more. Dad put a hand to his shoulder and winced.
“You should stop before you really hurt yourself,” I told him. But he just set his jaw and charged for a third time.
A gust of wind swept through, slamming against the wood along with my father. The door flew open. Dad’s momentum carried him inside, and Allie dashed in after him. I waited a few moments before following, wanting to keep out of Dad’s line of sight. I wasn’t sure he’d want me going in…but he hadn’t specifically told me to stay outside.
The door opened onto a gloomy hallway. I followed Dad’s voice into the room Allie had looked into from the outside.
It was dark in here too. Big planks of wood had been nailed across all the windows, leaving only a few gaps for sunlight to filter through. In the dim light, I could make out shapes that told me I was in Derek Bell’s living room: couch, bookcases, fireplace, knocked-over fire screen. Bell himself was lying on the floor, with Dad kneeling on one side of him and Allie on the other.
I edged closer to get a better view, and instantly wished I hadn’t. There was a dark stain across Bell’s chest. His eyes were open and staring.
He wasn’t unconscious. He was dead.
I slapped a hand to my mouth to stifle a gasp and took a hasty step back.
“You should go back to the station,” Dad said to Allie. “There’s nothing you can do here.”
I cast an uneasy glance around the room, not keen on encountering Derek’s ghost—but he wasn’t here. Things felt finished for him, just as they had for Nurse Flint and Director Cavanagh.
“I can handle this,” Allie said. “I don’t need to go back to the station.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Dad replied. “This scene shouldn’t be processed by people who worked for him. The city team can do it. And with Derek gone, you’re the boss. This is going to be hard on the people who knew him.”
“You don’t just mean because he’s dead, do you?” She cast a quick glance up at one of the boarded windows. “He was afraid of something, but he didn’t ask for help. What was he involved in?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Dad answered. “But yes, something’s going on. There are going to be some tough days ahead.”
Allie was quiet for a moment, absorbing that. Then she raised her head, like she was going to look whatever was coming right in the face, and rose to her feet to stride out of the house.
Dad stood as well, casting a searching glance around the room. Which was when he spotted me.
“Go outside, Beth! Now.”
I went. It was a relief to be back out in the fresh air and the sunshine. I hugged my arms around myself, shaky and shocked. I’d only seen Bell yesterday, weaselly but alive. Now he was gone. And based on the quick look I’d had at the body, I figured he’d been stabbed. Likely by the same person who’d murdered three other people.
And who might still be inside.
With my father.
I dashed back into the house. “Dad! The killer might still be here!”
He wasn’t where I’d left him.
I darted through a doorway on the other side of the living room, blinking in the dimness. Kitchen. But Dad wasn’t there either, or in the next room after that.
Then I heard his voice. I found him in a bedroom, talking on his phone: “Yes, like the others…I’ve sent Allison Hartley back to you. She can be trusted to manage the locals…See you when you get here.”
“Dad, you could be in danger!” I shouted.
He hung up. “There’s no one here but us, Beth.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve looked around. And Bell’s been dead for a while—he was likely killed last night.”
“Oh.” I put my hand to my heart, as if I could slow it down by pressing on it. Then I glared at Dad. “I couldn’t find you. Why didn’t you turn the lights on?”
“The electricity’s out. I don’t want you in here. Come on.”
I followed him back through the gloom and out into the front garden. He strode all the way to the fence before he turned to study the house, frowning his thinking frown.
“There was no sign of forced entry before I knocked down the door,” he mused. “And yet Bell was afraid.”
I saw what he meant. “That means he must’ve let the killer in, yeah? Whoever it was walked right in the front door and out again afterward, closing it behind him? But there can’t be that many people Bell trusts—so perhaps it was Sholt? Maybe he didn’t die in the fire after all!”
“Maybe not. Bell was obviously terrified. And like you said, t
he only way in was—” Dad’s mouth dropped open. He’d thought of something!
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” But he was frowning deeper.
“Come on, Dad! I know you’re thinking something.”
He shook his head. “Nothing I’m sure of yet. I’ll tell you when I am.” He pulled out his phone and heaved a sigh. “Right now I have to call my boss and let her know we have another dead body—and this one’s a cop.”
I listened in as he talked to Rachel. I couldn’t make out her words on the other end of the line, but she sounded concerned, and I didn’t think it was just because a police officer was dead. The straightforward case she’d given Dad to ease him back into work had turned into a quadruple homicide. I hoped the confidence in his voice would reassure her that he could cope. Dad was in control. Actually, I was pretty sure he was on the trail of something.
Cops from the city arrived while Dad was on the phone. He motioned them toward the house and hung up to follow them inside. Eventually Dad came back out, holding a set of car keys he must have borrowed from the city team.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking now?” I asked.
“Not yet,” he replied. “First, there’s someone we need to see.”
I’d figured that we were headed for the Sholt house. But we went to the hospital.
“Catching’s who you want to see?” I asked as Dad rolled the car to a stop. “You think she knows something that will help you solve Bell’s murder?”
He didn’t answer that. Instead, he said, “Before we go in, I need to ask you something. This morning, you said that you’d told Catching I was the person you’d call if you were in trouble. The thing is, Beth…how are you telling Catching anything?”
Oh. Oh. My stomach roiled. “Just because people can’t hear you doesn’t mean you can’t tell them things.”
Dad was watching me with a steady, patient expression. I hated that look. It was the one he used when he knew I was lying. “I think maybe she can hear you, Beth.”
So he’d figured it out. I slumped in defeat, and his mouth quirked into a smile. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The Things She's Seen Page 9
