by Kylie Kaden
‘I was on my way to inform the principal, but then it hit me – is that what you’ve all been hiding? Do you know who it is?’ Her eyes pleaded with him along with her words. ‘It’s not Will, is it? Please tell me that’s not why he bolted.’
Blake almost choked. ‘Will?’ He was astounded. Has she no instincts for people at all? ‘Are you joking?’
‘He jokingly said something the other day about “adding it to his record”.’ Did Abbi catch him in the act and send him away?’
‘C’mon, Hannah. No.’ And keep your fucking voice down. He could hear Ho out back. She would be out any minute. ‘How ’bout I take you home, we can talk about this … I’ll run you a bath.’ He stood, tried to get her up, shepherd her out.
She pushed him away.
He felt a pulse run through him. It would only take a moment for her to piece it together, and he would get caught in the flood.
‘It must have been someone close to home, then, with access? She talked about a dollhouse, which made me think of Trevor. He lived next door. But that’s just as crazy.’
He tucked his chin in, looked at his feet. He began to arrange his face in mock surprise, to play the game. But he’d used up all his deception. He couldn’t muster another morsel.
Hannah stared. ‘Blake? She accused Trevor, didn’t she? That’s what all the secrecy has been about.’
He sat in silent agreement, and met her eyes, bracing himself for what he’d find.
Outrage. Horror. Denial. Her jaw dropped so low he could see her tonsils.
‘And you believed her?’
Blake looked up at her, every muscle tensing, knowing what this meant. Knowing from this day forward, Hannah was going to piss all over this little shitstorm he thought he had under control. And she’d be far harder to shut down than the other hiccups.
Hannah shook her head. ‘Well, now I know it’s definitely made up.’
‘No, there’s no doubt. It happened, Hannah. I have proof.’
She frowned at him. ‘Are you kidding?’
And here it comes. The beginning of the end. ‘Wish I was.’
‘You can’t be serious.’ She laughed like this was a prank, but he could see her face colour, her mind race. She hated even the possibility of someone she trusted being exposed as something she despised. ‘That’s just as laughable as Will doing this – or you or I, for that matter. Trevor Adler?’ She shook her head. ‘I knew him. I knew him well. And you know how Abbi gets – freaking out over small things, making them big things. She’s just grabbed hold of some silly story her daughter made up and run with it, and now a man is dead! Jesus, no wonder he killed himself, being falsely accused of that! It happened to two male teachers in the States. It ruined their careers, their marriages. It was completely unfounded. And people wonder why women outnumber men in teaching roles ten to one.’
Blake knew this would be hard on her. He took her hand to buffer the shock. ‘Han, you heard her yourself: the dollhouses, the hole in the fence. I know it’s hard for you to hear, but our piece-of-shit prized principal was not what he seemed.’
Hannah’s face was waxen, her eyes still fixed on the wall. She shook her head, like she was reorganising puzzle pieces to make the picture look more appealing. ‘Maybe she’d seen Trevor making dollhouses. Maybe he promised her one, and then she got annoyed when her parents didn’t buy it. She started a story, and when she got attention, she elaborated on it. She’s five, Blake. You can’t tell me you have anything to corroborate her story. And now he’s dead!’
‘We often find that people with these sorts of secrets take their own lives.’ Blake was right – lying to Hannah felt just as bad as he expected it would.
‘So, this theory of yours. This ridiculous theory. If, and it’s a big if, he did this, if he was attracted to minors, he killed himself because he couldn’t bear to face what he was?’
With a little help. Blake exhaled. He could see her face, shiny from tears. It was like he was almost at the surface of a giant well, and now she was pulling him under, about to drown them both. ‘It’s very possible that what he was is linked to the fact that he is dead, yes.’
‘Cut the vague police-talk, Blake. So why hasn’t it been in the news? Don’t people have a right to know? He was a teacher, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Suicide in men, especially in rural areas, is one of the biggest killers we have, Han. Half the suspect death scenes I went to when I worked in the city, the victim had simply checked out.’
‘Don’t bullshit me. Trevor was never a quitter.’
‘He was never a kiddie-fiddler, either, as far as you knew. He realised we were onto him. And looking down the barrel of community outrage and life in prison will do that to you. You know what they do to rock spiders in jail?’
‘Kids say things. Words get misconstrued.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s just not possible. He had a relationship with me – as a fully grown woman. He wasn’t into kids. It’s just not possible.’
‘Han, I know it’s hard to imagine, when you know someone well, that they are capable of things you find abhorrent. But it happens. You see it on the news every night, a murder–suicide then neighbours saying, ‘But they were such a nice family, kept to themselves, so shocked it could happen in our street.’ How well do you ever know anyone?’
Hannah was staring blankly now. ‘He wrote me letters, poetry.’
Jesus. That’s enough of an alarm bell. She started to lose it, the possibility too much to bear.
Footsteps.
Penny Ho wandered in from the locker room.
‘Hon, come out the back. We can chat in private.’ He tried to guide Hannah away from Ho, who was busy unlocking her Glock from the safe.
But as he shepherded Hannah to the interview room, she broke away, her eyes veering to Ho. ‘Penny, did you know about this? That your murder victim was falsely accused of interfering with a child?’
A look of concern washed over Ho’s face, first directed at Hannah, then at Blake.
‘The Adler case? Who’s saying that?’
‘I’ll fill you in, Pen,’ Blake said.
Hannah forged on. ‘Eadie Adams. She’s in prep. It seems she has it in her head that Trevor acted inappropriately with her.’ Hannah started crying. Blake wanted to cry with her. She just blew open the whole case. Months of redirects, covers, lies. Boom.
Tears streamed down her face – whether they were for Eadie, or for Trevor, he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was he needed her gone.
Ho was wary. ‘You just heard about this, Newell? Does Mason know? He was a cleanskin, wasn’t he?’
Blake glared at Ho. ‘Some of it wasn’t made public. Look—’
‘Eadie Adams – your niece? She lives next door to Adler, doesn’t she?’
‘Yeah, but—’
Ho crossed her arms, her mind ticking over. ‘That have anything to do with Ambulance Man telling me he saw you inside Trevor’s house the night of the Moon Festival?’
Blake tried to stay calm, scratched his chin. ‘I attended a call-out on my way home from a shift. Heard it on the radio, and knew we were thin on the ground for staff with the festival and all, but it was just a prank – it’s on file. Look, it’s all good, Ho. I’ll take Hannah’s statement.’ He turned to face her, call her on it. ‘You want to make it formal, don’t you? These allegations?’
Hannah frowned. ‘Statement? I’m not lending my support for this rubbish. Blackening his good name when he can no longer defend himself.’
Ho gave Blake a concerned look. ‘Want me to see if Mason’s still around? He’ll want to know about this.’
‘You’re probably right. I’ll make sure he’s informed.’
After a cup of tea, and under the watchful eye of Blake’s partner, the fire had faded in Hannah’s resolve, and she allowed Blake to guide her outside. She held on to him like an old woman lost in a hospital ward.
Penny waved her off, a frown on her forehead that concerned Blake.
Blake e
scorted Hannah to her car. ‘I’ll drive you.’
‘No. I just want to be alone. I need to process all this.’
Blake was torn. He had a girlfriend with a conscience – not to mention a Nancy Drew complex – and a straight cop who now had wind of a bloody good reason why Trevor Adler wound up in the drink.
The connection between Adler and Abbi Adams just clicked into place.
He watched as Hannah got into her car and drove off.
Now there are two moral-high-ground freaks on the loose with my reputation.
And with Penny Ho’s ears pricked, there was no containing this.
Chapter 29
40 DAYS AFTER THE MOON FESTIVAL
Buzzing blowflies swarmed at her as she stepped out of her car and waded through scratchy yellow grass towards the lake. She couldn’t see Will anywhere, but Hannah sensed she was not alone. As her joggers crunched on dry leaves, a cluster of grey kangaroos standing stealth-still in the shade quickly scattered. Hannah stopped. She watched them size her up before hopping through the scrub towards the emerald grass blanketing distant hills.
Where was Will this time? His car was still here, near his camp, which was now littered with empty beer cans. She choked down the residual embarrassment over her diva-like exit the previous afternoon – getting to the bottom of this Eadie–Trevor business was far more important. She didn’t expect a warm welcome after yesterday, but she knew he was kind enough to listen, involved enough to care.
She entered the dilapidated old mansion, checking inside the sweeping rooms for the good doctor. It was warm. She thought he may have sought shade inside, but there was no sign of him.
Leaning on the columns flanking the front door, Hannah thought about the insidiousness of buried secrets. Had Trevor really been living a double life? She still couldn’t believe it. It was the most shameful of secrets – you’d hardly admit it at dinner parties. If this was true, what choice did he have but to hide away? Resist the urge? Even the possibility that she’d had sex with a child abuser made her stomach churn, and she told herself, again, it wasn’t possible. Not that man. Not that girl.
Hannah followed a winding stream towards the lake, walking across the rounded boulders dimpling the creek. Crouching, she cupped her hands and tasted the fresh water flowing through her fingers like liquid crystal. In the distance, a purple haze of wild flowers spread over the terracotta earth in a dry patch of river bed – a burst of colour in a palette of greys and greens. She contemplated her own life choices, from years earlier. The ones she was still forced to keep cordoned off from reality. Did she have any choice?
Walking back to the lake, Hannah found Will; sitting on a folding stool, his fishing rod pointing to the sky and a line of scaled, boned fish in a bucket half dug in the sand.
Even in the fading light, Hannah could see that this hiatus had taken its toll on her hibernating friend; bloodshot eyes, sallow skin, a three-day growth and matted hair. His eyes narrowed. ‘You. Again.’
She was beyond politeness and knew Will respected straight talk, but it didn’t feel right to just launch right into this. ‘I know you don’t want me here. But I need to talk to you. Can I?’ She gestured to the esky, went to sit.
He squinted at her, then shrugged. ‘As long as you brought swimmers this time.’
He filled a beer mug with rum, grabbed a Coke from the esky and took a sip. His face was flushed from the heat, rubbery from the booze, but he had a freshness about him, damp hair, perhaps from an earlier dip in the lake. He was relaxed.
She was anything but. Hannah folded her arms, unsure how to broach the topic. Slow and steady was the key. She sat on the esky next to Will’s chair. He didn’t object. He gestured to the bottle of rum. While he attempted to clean a second cup with his dirty Goodies t-shirt, Hannah grabbed the bottle and slugged a mouthful. It burned her throat.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Long day?’
‘You could say that.’ She was itching to tell him there was no way Trevor did what his daughter had suggested, but she didn’t want to piss him off, cut off her source. She wanted to observe him first.
‘You want a reel?’
She shrugged. Will grabbed a hand reel from his tackle box, added some bait to a hook and passed it to her. Hannah had fished as a kid, and cast out far into the lake, watched the line sink into the stillness of the surrounds. But it was information she was really fishing for.
As they sat in silence, the only movement the occasional mozzie skimming the water’s surface, she felt the tension of the day loosen just a little. But her mind wouldn’t rest. She couldn’t help but look at Will differently. A man holding secrets.
Will sipped his rum, looked over at Hannah.
Before long he was humming AC/DC, ‘Dirty Deeds.’
‘That song reminds me of uni days,’ Hannah said. ‘Every time I blared it, my roommate used to make up lyrics just to discourage me. I still played it all through first year.’
He smiled. ‘Classic Hannah. Isn’t that what Abbi would say?’
She felt unexpectedly good. Then she smelt fish and remembered why she was here.
Will’s eyes crinkled. ‘Never picked you as an Angus fan.’ He words slurred a little.
‘No?’
Will shrugged, ‘I figured you’d be an alternative listener. Missy Higgins? Jewel? Dido, maybe?’
Hannah chuckled. ‘You think I’m mellow?’
‘I think you’re compassionate, sensitive to others’ opinions, which means you stress easily, are prone to depression and probably use music to relax.’
Annoyingly, he was right. She had a Dido CD in Blake’s bathroom for that very reason. ‘I’m a rather eclectic person.’
‘Everyone likes to think they’re multi-dimensional.’
‘You’re saying I’m not?’
He swayed a little. ‘No.’ His look lingered, like there was more. He was drunker than she’d ever seen him, but she’d only known the man a month. Did she even know anyone?
Hannah frowned. ‘You know what? I really don’t get you sometimes. I thought you were on the brink of some mid-life crisis. And now you’re …’
‘Drunk?’ He turned, looking all matter-of-fact. ‘Probably adds weight to your hypothesis.’
She shook her head, part relieved, part worried about what was to come. Was this all in aid of his inability to cope with Eadie’s supposed run-in with their neighbour? ‘What happens when you stop drinking?’
‘I don’t plan to. What do you new-age people call it? Mindfulness. Living in the moment. Abbi always tells me I live in the future, not the present.’ He reached into the pocket of his knapsack and pulled out a paint-spattered radio, searched through white noise and settled on the Rolling Stones, ‘Beasts of Burden’. ‘Okay, let’s play reinvent the lyrics, in honour of your roomie.’
‘Sorry?’
‘C’mon! Reinvent the lyrics! ‘Beast of Burden …’ You’ve got one verse to think of a new line.’ He sang her into it.
Hannah never worked well under pressure. ‘Ahh, um. I’ll never leave your pizza burnin’ …’ She gave in to the silliness, feeling like a kid.
Will smirked. ‘That’s the spirit.’
Hannah felt a warmth spread over her that she hadn’t felt in ages. Then she felt guilty. This was not a time for partying. But right now she wanted what Will wanted. ‘Your turn, next.’
Whitney Houston’s siren voice sang, ‘Saving all my love for you.’
His eyes narrowed, before a smile split his face, and she lived in suspense until the chorus came around and he bellowed, ‘I’m shaving off my muff for yoooou …’
Hannah wasn’t sure what was worse – his voice or the new lyric, and she laughed through her nose.
Will laughed too. ‘Never took you as a snort-laugher.’
‘Guilty. I usually integrate it better.’
‘Abbi – she’s more of a silent laugher. She does the head bob, the mouth open, but no noise, at least till she has to breathe. Then it get
s ugly.’ He’d mentioned Abbi twice in as many minutes. Someone was wife-sick.
‘I can’t imagine she can do ugly,’ Hannah said.
‘Women. So competitive. Want to be liked, but not liked enough to be envied.’ He took a swig – drinking it straight, now, and handed her the bottle. He smiled. A smile that transformed his ordinary face into an extraordinary one. He reeled in his line and rebaited, before taking a sideways glance at her again.
‘Have-you-come-to-confess?’ His words slurred into one. It was fetching, somehow, to see him vulnerable. To see the doctor do silly.
‘Confess?’ Hannah laughed, and took another swig of rum herself. ‘What have I done?’
Will stayed quiet, hesitated then asked, ‘That scar you flashed at me the other day. Anything you want to tell me?’ Hannah was speechless. She was supposed to be the one asking questions. ‘We both know it’s not from what you said.’ Will spun the reel expertly in his hands. ‘Why the big secret? So you had a baby – through the ‘sun roof’, by the looks. I’m guessing you gave the baby up when you were young? Was it when you were on exchange – got knocked up by your mon-amour?’
Hannah couldn’t breathe. She’d come here to talk about his secrets, not hers. She didn’t know what to say, how to form the words.
‘I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. Man, I might not even remember this conversation tomorrow. But there’s no shame in it. Contraception fails. It happens. Shit, it happened to me and Abbi – you know Eadie was a stowaway at our wedding. I just hate to think you carry that around.’
Suddenly everything in her wanted the truth out. It had burned a hole in her soul for seventeen years, and here, in this pocket of privacy, surrounded only by spotted gums and galahs, she wanted the truth to echo through the air. ‘Molly.’
Will swayed a little on his stool as he reeled in the line. ‘I may be drunk but no, pretty sure it was your muff I saw the other day – and your caesarean scar, not your little sister’s.’