by Kylie Kaden
It was true. She’d never seem him lose composure that way before.
Abbi joined him on the couch, laced her fingers behind his neck, locked eyes with his. ‘But you didn’t. He deserved what he got. He provoked you in the worst possible way. Any father would have reacted the way you did.’ Her was face was wet with tears, taking in his guilt.
He stroked his chin. ‘Maybe I should check on him.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Leave us to go help that animal?’
‘How’s it going to look to the cops if the town doctor left an injured man alone? I might have broken his jaw.’
‘I hope you did.’ She shook her head. ‘You said he was talking when you left. He can ring an ambulance if he’s that bad. Fuck him!’
Will ran his hands over his face. ‘Okay, I’ll go down the station, make a statement.’
‘It’s okay, I called Blake when you were reading to Eadie. He’s going to sort it out, go ’round there.’
He moved closer. ‘You told him?’
‘Of course. We had to report it, and I wanted to make sure he managed it. I don’t want strangers prodding her, examining her. She’s been through enough.’
Will frowned. ‘We need to do this the right way, above board. The sooner the better for the collection of evidence. But don’t worry – Child Protection does everything possible to ensure the process is as child-focused as possible. But I doubt they’d arrest him tonight – it’s late.’
Abbi shook her head. ‘I can’t sleep knowing he’s out there.’ Looking out to his house in the distance, she felt his roofline goading her from between branches, Here I am.
Will kissed her on the forehead. ‘He’s a coward, Abs. An opportunist. She walked right into his shed. He wouldn’t dare look at her again.’
He’d made sure of that.
Chapter 16
35 DAYS AFTER THE MOON FESTIVAL
Blake muted Game of Thrones on the TV. ‘We need to talk’.
‘What the?’ Will grabbed the remote back, but stilled when he saw Blake’s seriousness.
‘Did you guys see cops next door today, by chance?’
Will’s eyebrows raised. ‘What, a break-in? Wouldn’t have thought they had much to steal. Place has been vacant, I spose, with Connie in hospital.’
‘It wasn’t a break-in,’ Blake said. ‘It was a warrant.’
Abbi was statue-still and staring.
There was no easy way to do this, and besides, it would be on the news tomorrow anyway. ‘They’ve identified the owner of the foot. It was your neighbour, Trevor Adler.’
Abbi sprung up from her slump. ‘What?’
God, she was good. ‘Yep.’
‘How did they … What makes them … I mean, how do they know?’ Abbi asked, pale and breathless.
‘A new lead – photo of him in the Nikes at some fun run. They’ve searched his house. They’re questioning locals, bound to get to you.’
Will’s eyes widened. ‘Jesus. You told me he was in Coffs Harbour. That the New South Wales coppers were looking for him. Didn’t think he’d have the balls to come back here.’
Blake hadn’t thought this through. He wasn’t ready for Will. He’d been so busy worrying about what the CIB knew, he’d forgotten what version he’d spun to Will. He could see the man’s logical mind ticking, ticking, ticking.
‘He was.’ Blake swallowed, as if the lie were a pill he could make disappear that easily.
Concern washed over Will’s face. ‘Do they reckon he came home to knock himself off? Throw himself in the river? Seems strange.’
‘I don’t think they have a clue.’ Blake hoped they didn’t have a clue.
‘They have my statement though – they know what he was.’ Will looked at his wife. ‘Jesus, I would’ve killed the prick if you hadn’t walked in, hon. You can’t live a life like that without collecting enemies.’
Isn’t that the truth.
Abbi stared at Will, a strange expression on her face Blake could not read.
‘But God, he’s dead?’ Will raked his fingers over his cheeks.
‘Well, they’ve brought in some hotshot Detective Sergeant – Mason’s a piece of work, actually. He interviewed Hannah.’
‘Hannah?’ Will and Abbi said in unison.
‘Sounds like she had a thing with him,’ Blake said.
Will frowned. ‘Who? The detective?’
‘The victim.’
Will’s eyes widened. ‘Wow.’ He grimaced. ‘When?’
‘Years ago, back when they were teaching together. Before me. Well, between stints.’
Will’s mouth warped. ‘Jesus.’
For an atheist, the bloke sure prayed a lot.
Blake swallowed, hard. ‘People gossiped about it. I was never sure if she actually did.’ He looked away as he got up. ‘It’s disgusting. To think of her with him. To think of his … Christ, I think I’m gonna be sick.’ He walked to the kitchen sink on the island bench and leaned in, splashed water on his face, exhaled, then paced back into the lounge. ‘I mean, if you’ve had sex with someone, in a way it’s like having sex with everyone they’ve ever been with, you know?’
Will frowned, making a small mock-choking noise. ‘You sound like an STD prevention ad.’ Will was making light of it, but Blake sensed he was flapping on the inside. Neither of them could hide their disgust for the rock spider. And how would Hannah react if, or when, she finds out what her ex-lover did to a little girl? She’d be sickened.
Blake glanced over at Abbi – that curtain of wavy hair, soft creamy skin and big velvety eyes.
Blake felt his composure crumble, feeling far less subtle about venting how he felt. ‘That prick makes my skin crawl. Always has. Call it a street kid’s sixth sense or something but I feel like I was watching that guy all my life, waiting for something bad to happen, to him or by him I was never sure, but I was primed to try to prevent it. But it happened anyway.’
Will frowned. ‘They’ll want to hear it from me, surely. How the bastard defiled my daughter. My statement from that night has to be part of the investigation, right?’
Blake exhaled, loudly. He had to vent some of the secrecy. It was seeping through his stomach like poison. He looked over to Abbi, as if in warning. ‘Ah, here’s the thing, Will. I never lodged it.’
‘What?’ Will glanced at Abbi, then focused back on Blake. Still calm. Still unflappable. ‘You said you did. That you had an arrest warrant out on him, alerts in New South Wales.’
Abbi sat, eyes wide.
Blake’s eyes slammed closed.
‘You told me that telling the school would interfere with the investigation. That it would jeopardise getting the charges to stick. You said it was best to keep things close. That you’d personally handle it, find him and charge him. Remember that, Blake?’ The words came in a torrent.
Blake was silent as he twisted his jaw and glanced up at Abbi.
Will shook his head. ‘You stood in my house, the morning after my daughter was assaulted, took my statement, and said you’d get the bastard. Why the hell didn’t you? Because the only reason I can think of is you didn’t believe me. I saw what I saw.’ Will poked the air.
Blake felt for the guy. For every victim who was doubted. ‘I wish it was, Will. I just didn’t want you to draw attention, to be pinned for this.’
‘What?’ Will gave a cold smile. ‘He wasn’t dead then. You said his car was gone. That he’d shot through. How did you know he’d wind up in the water?’
Abbi sent a knowing glance Blake’s way, but he couldn’t face it. He didn’t want to lose the nerve to do what he knew he had to do. Buzzing filled his mind. His hand trembled. ‘His Patrol was gone because I drove it to Pott’s Beach, took the handbrake off and pushed it into the fucking ocean.’ He was sick of this. Sick of the spreadsheet in his mind of what he’d said to whom. God, confession felt good. ‘Mate, I think it’s time your wife is honest with you.’ He felt himself sliding towards an even bigger confession, aching for the relief of t
he burden, wanting the lies he’d built around him to collapse so he could gain control of his life again.
‘Blake! You don’t know what you’re starting,’ Abbi cried, her eyes wide as she grabbed his arm, trying to drag him into the kitchen and away from Will.
Will stood by, glaring at his wife. ‘Abbi? You knew about this?’
She turned back to Blake. ‘Blake, just think about this first. You’re upset.’
‘Abbi – it’s Will. He’s never going to do anything to hurt you. He can help us sort through this.’ Blake was embarrassed by the neediness in his voice, but it was true. He was sick of being the only grown-up in this conundrum.
Abbi showed her wounded face. The same face she’d used on him that God-awful night. This time, Blake was immune to those big, brown eyes.
She walked over, pulled Blake into the kitchen, out of Will’s earshot and whispered, ‘You promised you wouldn’t – said you’d never turn me in.’
‘What the fuck’s going on?’ Abbi heard Will yell from the lounge. They only had seconds. She pulled Blake deeper into the room.
Blake spoke through gritted teeth out the corner of his lips. ‘I’m not turning you in. Jesus, you’re such a drama queen. I’m just telling your husband.’
She folded her arms as Will’s stomps grew closer. ‘Don’t you know?’ Her voice was soft, a whisper. ‘It’s the same thing.’
* * *
Abbi was trembling, hit with vertigo that made her unsteady, just as it had the morning after the festival. After everything she’d done to move on, she was back to this.
Will entered the kitchen to catch them eyeballing each other. ‘Is someone going to fill me in here?’
Abbi and Blake just stood and stared.
This scene had gone too far. There was no way out other than the truth, and Abbi felt partly relieved. She’d agonised every day about whether to come clean to her husband, feeling the stream of lies corrode their relationship. She was spineless, fearful this would be the beginning of the end.
‘Sit for a sec, mate,’ Blake asked Will.
Will ignored him.
Abbi’s hands started to shake and she sat to avoid keeling over, taking Will’s hand and guiding him to join her.
He sat, the stool barely visible under his girth. ‘Just say it.’
Blake stood between them, like a mediator. ‘You know the night we’re talking about, right? The festival? Well, when I arrived next door later that night to arrest him, Abbi was in Trevor’s garage.’
Abbi wiped tears away. She realised the lying would not end now. Not yet. Not with the version of events Blake had to offer. The lies were just getting bigger, bolder, braver. But she wasn’t feeling brave or bold.
Will looked more hurt than alarmed. ‘You went in? You … You …’
Her eyes stayed on Will. She had categorised every expression, every gesture of his over the years. She knew his tongue pressed into his bottom lip, just a pinch, when he was thinking; that his eyes squinted when he was disappointed, that they danced when Eadie entered the room. Even when their daughter was born, he’d kept things under wraps – a slight clearing of the throat, perhaps, but it didn’t mean he didn’t feel. But right now, the canvas of his face was completely still and stony white. Sweat beaded on his lip. Horror flickered in his eyes.
‘You killed him?’ His voice shook.
There had been so many versions of events that she hesitated at first, the facts lost in the smoke and mirrors. Abbi felt her chest tighten, the pressure so unbearable she thought she would burst. She couldn’t answer, but he knew. He knew what she was saying, even when she wasn’t.
Will squared his jaw, flared his nostrils as his breathing raced. ‘You lied to me.’ His eyes squinted as he said the word, as if the truth were so precious, he couldn’t quite believe it. Will looked over to Blake, his face as crestfallen as his own. ‘Both of you.’
Then he directed his wrath back to her. ‘Why? Why not just fucking tell me?’
She inhaled a jagged breath. ‘We thought you’d … have trouble with the concept of— ’
‘Killing someone? Ya think?’ Will paced the room, raking his fingers through his thick hair. ‘I mean, God, Abbi. It’s a human life! No one has the right to end someone’s life!’
Abbi grabbed his hand. ‘We never meant to—’
Will raised his hand to silence her. ‘I’ll get to you. You first.’ He looked Blake straight in the eye. ‘Tell me everything you saw.’
Chapter 17
THE DAY OF THE MOON FESTIVAL.
Blake parked his vehicle at the bottom of the cul-de-sac, but he could still hear a rowdy hum coming from the festival. He was determined to keep calm, to do it right. The last thing he wanted was for Eadie, Abbi and Will to be put through the wringer, only for a resulting conviction to be quashed because he fucked up protocol. When the perp was a local, sometimes it helped to smooth things over by keeping it informal: wear plain clothes and play it down. He’d known the bastard for years – never trusted him, but he was a mild-mannered, small-framed guy and so Blake didn’t expect any trouble. These types were cowards at their core.
Blake knew how to play it. He expected nothing more than an awkward conversation, a polite request to bring him downtown to tell his side. Blake’s only concern was letting his disgust for the man get the better of him. Trevor’s Patrol was still in the drive. He knocked. ‘Mr Adler?’
Three times. No movement from the house other than a white cat sniffing his boots. He knew the bloke’s old lady was immobile, but thought Trevor might have at least wanted to settle this thing, explain his side of this fucked-up mess. It had been a while since Blake had been faced with anything more than domestic violence or kids on smack. Bile pushed up his throat.
He knew he had to keep the emotion out of this one – Abbi’s unhinged cries on the phone to ‘arrest the bastard’ echoed in his mind. Blake tried to rein in the fury he felt. He was usually level headed with crims, even with the druggos and vandals, he knew how easily life could go off the rails. But not this crime. Not this victim.
He followed the cat to the side of the property, past a Kombi rusting on stumps and a partially covered woodpile. Blake noticed a handcrafted doll’s house in the window, like a red light in a brothel, and felt sick. He hurried towards the back of the garage that adjoined the house. Screw the fact that he didn’t have witness statements – they were a given – he’d have them by morning and everything would be above board.
The shed backed onto a boat-ramp allowing direct access to the lake. Blake saw Trevor’s tinnie tethered to the oyster-crusted pylon, banging in the ebbing tide at the bottom of the embankment. If the car and boat were still here, he was most likely around, too.
The cat darted past Blake’s boots and slipped under a half-raised roller-door. Unease clung to his throat. Blake felt his heart thump as his fingers reached for the holstered Glock on his belt, and remembered he wasn’t in uniform. He didn’t even have his cuffs.
Perhaps this was a mistake. He should come back tomorrow with Ho.
He levered the door up with his boot, the metal riders screeching as it rolled, revealing a cluttered workshop.
‘What the!’ Blake surveyed the scene: blood drips on sawdust, offcut timber, a frenzy of footprints and Abbi, standing over a corpse.
* * *
She held the block of wood like a cricket bat at her side, Trevor Adler at her feet.
‘What the hell happened?’ Blake shouted, as he lunged towards the man splayed awkwardly on the floor. ‘Call an ambulance!’ He crouched next to him. He knew the bastard was dead before he felt for a pulse. Corpses had a look about them, a stillness that breathing folk never showed. He straddled him anyway, wiped some sort of residue off Trevor’s mouth and beard with his shirt and began CPR. He was drowning in questions, but clear headed. He’d been trained to be efficient under pressure, and he was.
‘Abbi?’ When she didn’t answer, he glanced at her, standing idly by like there
wasn’t a dead man at her feet. ‘You all right? Did he attack you?’
She ignored him as stood over the body as if she’d hit a roo on the highway. As if he were roadkill; inconvenient, disgusting, but part of the life cycle.
‘Why are you even here? I said I’d deal with it.’ Blake couldn’t hide his exasperation as he straddled her neighbour, pumped at his chest. The coppery stink of blood rose in his nostrils, laced with what smelt like vomit. ‘You rang ten minutes ago. Ten minutes! Now he’s fucking dead!’
‘I came back for her.’ She spoke like it was obvious.
Blake frowned. ‘For Eadie?’ He stopped compressions as panic dashed through him. He looked over the shed. ‘Where’s Eadie now? Did he get to her again?’
Abbi stared, like he hadn’t spoken. Like he wasn’t there at all.
She’d totally lost it. He wished he’d called this in, wished he’d brought back-up.
‘Gemma. She can’t sleep without her.’ A ragged, one-eyed bunny was pressed against her chest like an infant.
‘Her bunny? You broke into a paedo’s house for a stuffed animal?’ Blake shook his head. ‘What the fuck happened here?’
He stared down at the man beneath him, lost count of the compressions. With each pump, the body shook, but only sucked another puff of hope from Blake’s mind until he was certain he was unresponsive.
Trevor’s chest was motionless. There were no breathing sounds, nothing to be heard but the lapping waves, relentless against the jetty. Blake hoped that didn’t mean a boat was passing. That people were heading home, heading past this house.
Blake punched the man’s chest in anger as he pushed off his body, sat amid the sawdust, now a mayhem of swirls. He felt overcome, but not from grief. The piss-ant could rot in hell for all he cared. What disturbed Blake was what had to happen next.
Abbi squatted next to him. ‘Have you seen one before?’ Her voice was sweet and quiet, like a child’s.
All expression was erased from Blake’s face, as if he were a robot set on standby. ‘Heaps. First one was back in my traffic days. It was kind of unrecognisable though. A bikie – head-on with a truck.’