by Kylie Kaden
‘You helped?’
His eyelids grew heavy, felt them flutter as his jaw twisted, unwilling to admit, yet unable to deny.
‘Say something! How could you keep all this from me?’ As Hannah prattled on, telling him she’d realised what had happened as soon as Will said he’d seen Trevor with Eadie, Blake felt a calm course through him. He was actually glad that she’d figured it out.
‘It was an accident, Hannah. He was provoked. They didn’t plan it. Abbi was just trying to regain control of things. They were both victims of a vicious crime and made poor decisions in the moment.’
‘Let the jury consider that.’ Hannah walked over to him, tried to turn him by touching his shoulder. ‘You’re arresting the bastard, surely? That’s your job, Blake.’
Her plan sounded wise. His eyes closed. He remembered his role in all this. ‘It’s not that simple.’
Her face hardened, her eyes were piercing. The broken, innocent girl was gone. ‘It is.’
Blake lurched back – he’d never seen her so fired up. And sure, murder would do that. But there was more fuelling her determination to see Will pay. I thought she liked the bloke.
He recalled Will’s description of Hannah earlier: persistent. Blake’s eyes closed as it became clear. She had put the word on Will. He’d rejected her and now she was bitter, he was sure of it. He realised how broken and wrong it was that he’d expected her to be unfaithful, and instantly, he knew they were over.
But she didn’t know how entangled he’d become in Will and Abbi’s ploy, and how much trouble he’d be in if it was exposed. The only way to save them all was to tell her everything – including his role in it. He was compelled with a sudden urge to purge every detail like they were germs, eating him from inside. It was the only way out.
He started from the beginning. Finding Abbi at Trevor’s the night of the festival. The ambulance disrupting them. The body sliding into the waves from the wake of the boat. Searching for it to no end. He’d struggled with the lies, keeping it from everyone to lessen the risk.
Hannah sat motionless, slowly grasping the situation, each morsel of knowledge chipping away at her like he’d diagnosed her with a deadly disease. ‘You risked everything to cover for him? Why? What is he to you?’
‘She told me it was her.’ He felt like a royal fool. He knew it would piss Hannah off, but it was the truth.
‘What difference does it make? Him. Her. Both. We have to turn them in. Whatever Trevor did, he paid for it with his life. Why should they get off?’
‘I couldn’t live with myself. I’d rather quit, leave town than do that.’
Hannah moved back slightly. ‘You’d quit your job. Leave me. What is it about her? Why has she always had such a hold on you?’
As pissed as he was at Abbi, he owed her, and in a way, he admired her. She had Will’s back, no matter what. And deep down he knew she had his, too. He couldn’t say the same thing about the woman in front of him now. ‘When I was lost, she made me feel worthy of being here. It saved my life.’
She tapped her finger on the bench. ‘She told me about the lock. About your adolescent fumblings.’
Typical Hannah; they were talking about a man’s life, and she brought up some petty bullshit. ‘What?’ Blinking. Uncontrollably.
‘Forget it.’ Her forehead creased, and she glared at him. ‘I thought things were good this time. I’ve been trying so hard. I loved you.’ She was sobbing now, like a child, her arms folded across her chest. ‘How can I ever trust anything you say? You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me for months. I can’t even look at you.’
‘What was I supposed to do? Arrest her? I only lied to you to keep you safe. I didn’t want you involved. I wanted to protect you.’
‘No, Blake. You wanted to protect her. You put her before me.’ She shook her head, wiped a tear. ‘I want to come first for someone, just once! I wanted you to make me a priority.’ She retreated into herself, curling her arms around herself like she’d fall apart if they weren’t there holding her together.
He knew this was a shock for her. But this wasn’t her story. Here he was, trying to find justice for a family caught in a heinous crime, and she found a way to make it all about her, just like her mum’s death was more about her getting the support she needed, not about her family needing hers. Clarity struck Blake like he’d uncovered a key piece of evidence on a cold case he’d worked for years.
The reason their relationship never worked wasn’t his lack of ambition, like she’d blamed the first time, or living at the station being awful, like she’d alleged the second time. It was that she was a jealous, unfaithful pain in the arse, disguised so beautifully inside a pristine outer shell. He’d tolerated it, knowing the battles she’d faced, but they were grown-ups now. No more excuses.
‘I made you a priority. Twice. And twice you put yourself first, and left. And Abbi picked up the pieces both times.’ His harsh words tumbled out without thought, but they felt so right. ‘You might leave your family when things get rough, but I don’t. It’s called loyalty, Hannah. You should try it.’
Even when he saw the shock on her pretty face, he didn’t regret it.
Truth. It was so easy to tell.
Chapter 32
41 DAYS AFTER THE MOON FESTIVAL
Control. Abbi never had much time for it, or so she thought. Yet when she’d lost it – when her mum’s cancer refused to shrink, when Eadie went missing, and now, with Hannah holding the knowledge to put Will in jail, she saw the appeal.
In the middle of this mess, all Abbi could think about was Blake calling her manipulative. Like one of those anally retentive control freaks who undermined other people in order to dictate how everything was done around them.
Abbi stopped, and thought. Was he onto something? She admitted, there’d been times she’d orchestrated playdate invites to the ‘nice’ kids in E’s prep class, had a chat to the principal to nudge E towards the kind-eyed teacher. Had she become one of those mothers who orchestrated the world around their little cherub? She hated those mothers and their mollycoddled kids with neat braids and personalised lunch totes. Perhaps she was controlling, too? Perhaps she just gathered it more subtly.
Oh, God. He was right.
This farce was all on her. From the start, she’d directed this play. She’d cast the roles and written the script. A wave of self-loathing pummelled her, before panic overcame her.
If she was the puppet master, there was no way Hannah got to decide how this play would end.
On the drive over to convince her oldest friend to keep quiet, Abbi realised she did what she had to, to make things right for her family. But Blake was her family, too, and she’d let him down, all in the name of her child and giving her the best life she could. Abbi knew she was wrong about one thing. Loving Eadie hadn’t made her vulnerable or weakened her foundations. It had given her strength.
* * *
Abbi parked on the roadside.
‘Hannah?’ Abbi called, wandering through the tiled floors of Blake’s house. ‘We need to talk.’ She heard movement in the master bedroom and found a blotchy faced, miserable Hannah filling a suitcase. She glanced up fleetingly, huffed into her chin, and continued folding.
‘If you’ve come to make me feel guilty, there’s no need. I already do.’
‘You’ve already turned us in?’ Abbi imagined sirens blazing, squad cars surrounding the house.
Hannah frowned. ‘That’s why you’re here? He didn’t tell you?’
‘Tell me what?’
‘He didn’t say anything?’ Hannah’s eyebrows rose.
‘He told me you know that he assaulted Trevor.’ Abbi came to take back the reins, but now felt like she was the one being steered.
‘Assault – I think there’s a stronger word when the victim dies. Or is that just part of your denial?’ Hannah shook her head and smiled. ‘You amaze me. Always with your moral superiority, and look at you now. A man is dead!’
Abbi’s br
eath was shaky. This was going to be harder than she’d thought. She placed her hands wide on Hannah’s folded clothes. ‘Please. Can you have an open mind for five minutes?’
Hannah stopped her packing and folded her arms. ‘I get it. This isn’t about the lake, you want to plead your case.’ She fired up, poked the air. ‘Tell me why I should be okay with the lot of you …’ She lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘Killing a man! Hiding his body! Dumping his car! Lying to the cops – to me!’
‘Please, Hannah – if you ever cared for me, don’t do this to my family! To Eadie. Haven’t we all been through enough? It was an accident! He must have just had … complications. You know Will – he’d never do that on purpose.’
‘Oh, come on, Abbi. Is that what he told you? Or just what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night? Will wanted Trev dead, he punched his lights out and now he is.’ Hannah choked up, pressed her fingers under her nose. ‘And if that wasn’t enough – you bat your eyelids, make Blake do your dirty work – how can you live with yourself?’ She shook her head, her chin trembling, and turned away.
Anger surged inside Abbi. Hannah was totally missing the point. ‘Your old boyfriend liked to interfere with little girls! How can he not be held accountable for that?’
The words had impact. She could tell Hannah was swayed by the notion. But then she stopped to think, to reason, and opened her mouth again. ‘I’m not excusing what he did, but he didn’t deserve to be bashed to a pulp. Dumped in the mud. To stop paedophiles, we need to help them. But no one wants to hear that.’
Abbi shook her head. ‘I know mental illness can be treated, but if you’re saying his impulses were not a choice, how can that be changed? It’s what he was.’
‘I don’t want to argue politics, Abbi. I just want to pack my stuff and get out of here. Try to make sense of this mess.’ Hannah wiped tears from her eyes, looked to the ceiling. ‘You think I want to be in this position? Put my friends in jail? But, Abbi, do you really believe it’s okay to get away with murder just because the victim was a bad person? I can’t live with that on my conscience.’
Abbi steeled herself. There was no convincing this woman. ‘If you tell, you know Blake will go down with us. Eadie’s life will be changed, forever. She’ll come to learn that her dad is in jail for simply protecting her. Her mum, her uncle, too. And that man will still be dead.’
Hannah cried. ‘I’m sorry, Abbi, I really am. But I can’t keep any more secrets.’
Abbi shook her head. ‘You’re not a parent.’ Abbi spat the words out, like an insult. ‘You can’t imagine what it’s like.’
Hannah tutted, folded her arms. ‘Yeah, well, you can’t use that card to trump me anymore.’
Abbi laughed humourlessly. ‘What are you talking about? You got a kid I don’t know about?’
Then Hannah told her a story stranger than fiction.
* * *
So now Hannah knew their dirty secret, and Hannah had spilled hers.
Abbi was not entirely surprised by the news. In some ways, it cleared up a few anomalies she’d wondered about, but it still felt surreal. All those years, comparing her life to Hannah’s, only to discover her oldest friend had become a mother before she had. She may not have convinced Hannah to keep quiet, but there was nothing more she could say. Perhaps their shared maternal instinct would do some of the convincing work for her.
Her immediate concern was to gauge whether there was even a marriage left to save.
On the drive home, nerves festered in Abbi’s stomach – what clarity had Will found in his days away? And what did they need to talk about?
* * *
Eadie was so slight, her feet barely made a dent in the slate-like sand. She looked up at her with clear, bright eyes, and Abbi could barely believe she’d created something so beautiful. She pulled a stray hair from her mouth. It took Abbi a second to notice, her daughter was walking ahead – not compulsively stepping in rhythm with her like a stilted robot, and she took it as a sign that things were changing for the better.
From November to March, the main beach was no longer theirs. Groups of tourists invaded like soldier crabs, following Akubra-clad rangers in fawn polos. They’d be on the lookout for the greenback’s flipper trails – little tyre tracks kinking the sand as they pulled their weight up from the sea to the safety of the dunes to nest. Even the seagulls knew there’d be no hatchlings for a while, and had reduced to an optimistic few stalking a lonely fisherman.
‘No turtles yet, Mummy?’
Abbi lay her arm around her shoulder. ‘Few more months, sweetheart.’
Would Abbi still be a free citizen then, or be charged as an accessory to murder? Or would her marriage still play out through security glass, but with Will behind bars? Worse still, would Eadie be at the whim of the state, or raised by Will’s parents with both of them incarcerated?
Now that Blake and Hannah knew the truth, anything was possible.
Will and Abbi would often take Eadie turtle-gazing, late on summer nights. They’d sneak down the embankment, walk along the beach track to spy on the nesting females gradually and meticulously drilling down to reach the wet, cool depths to lay clutches of eggs. They’d hear the flick of sand before seeing them. Eadie was the only five-year-old Abbi knew who had the self-restraint to sit perfectly still, perfectly silent, to watch the show unfold.
Eadie skipped at her side, her small, gritty hand secured in Abbi’s, walking in fits and starts like a normal, comfortable little girl. ‘No more stepping game, huh?’
‘I’ve outgrowed it,’ Eadie announced, and Abbi smiled.
Her daughter skipped ahead, stopping randomly to pick up shells.
A line of footprints towards the dunes caught her eye. At the end, there was Catfish, headphones fat on his ears, arms swinging the metal detector back and forth like a blind man’s cane. Abbi stopped and waved. ‘Hello, Greg.’ Abbi had discovered Catfish’s real name on the boat-licence registration list Blake acquired.
Shaken, Catfish removed the speakers from his ears and looked alarmed. ‘Yes?’
‘You saw me on the jetty the night of the lanterns.’ Abbi knew it. It was his boat. He was the only person in town with a flat-bottom tinnie. She didn’t know what he’d witnessed, but she knew he’d seen something.
He shook his head in small slides and frowned.
‘He was your brother. Why haven’t you told the police?’
Catfish shook his head again, mumbled a few obscenities under his breath, rubbed his ear vigorously. ‘I’m sorry – now scoot!’
Abbi smiled to let him know she was not after any trouble. ‘You’re sorry?’
He became madder, pointing violently in the air. ‘For the lass. He hurt her.’
Abbi’s lungs emptied. Eadie? She looked over to her, playing safely in the distance. She wasn’t even at the scene when Catfish went past that night while she fumbled about on Trevor’s jetty.
‘I knew what he was, and I did nothing.’ He banged the side of his head with his flattened palm so hard that Abbi gasped. He kept on hitting, as if the rhythm brought comfort.
She touched his hand, slowed its rhythm. ‘It’s okay, Greg.’
He seemed shocked at the gesture. Another human’s touch, and Abbi wondered when the last one was.
Abbi thought about the missing fake-weapon. Had he found that too, floating on the water? What else did he know? Abbi thought further, the pieces falling into place. ‘The hoodie. That night. You took it.’
Catfish ignored her but made no denial, replaced the headphones on his ears, and went back to scanning the beach in his own world.
Logically, she should be worried. He was an eyewitness. He could put her at the scene. He must have noticed her stash the fleecy jumper behind the hot water system, and for some reason – to help her cover her tracks, perhaps – he had taken it. But she knew his guilt would never allow him to share what he knew. Looking out to the ocean, Abbi couldn’t bring herself to blame the man. Perhaps he’d al
ready paid enough for his silence.
Abbi’s eyes cast ahead to the rocky end, where she saw her husband, slumped on a rock, staring out to the wild peaks of the ocean. He was the only local with a shadow that long. He hadn’t said much since returning home from the lake, nor after she’d returned from Hannah’s. His mind was still ticking, and that afternoon she’d given him space to process whatever it was that needed solving.
‘Daddy!’ Eadie arrived to him first, wrapped her legs around his waist, forcing him out of the trance he was in. His eyes closed and held her as if he were savouring a last visit. Abbi’s heart skipped a beat.
After a few minutes of animated chatter, Eadie dismounted and bolted down the beach, chasing a wet-feathered pelican.
Abbi wedged onto the rock next to Will, curled her arm under his, and looked out at the ocean. The onshore wind ruffled the peaks into white tips, with no order, no direction, an endless curve of more of the same, stretching as far as you could see. Chaos reigned, but also gave nature its power and beauty.
Abbi knew better than to push, so she started broadly. ‘Eadie told me she saw you. At her swimming lesson. She said you came to watch before I got there.’
‘I had to see her. I’ve never not seen her. Not for three days. I didn’t realise I’d think of her, with all that’s going on, but I missed her like sleep.’
Abbi nodded. She could barely talk. ‘I was scared you were saying goodbye.’
His eyes closed. ‘Jesus, no.’
Abbi nodded like a fool, a nervous, confused fool. She reached up again, but once more, he folded her arms back away from him.
She clutched her stomach.
‘I have to tell you something.’ He squared his jaw.
‘Me first.’ Abbi folded her arms. ‘Blake knows I didn’t do it. I admitted I used him to cover for you.’
With raised eyebrows he said, ‘How’d he take it?’
‘Pissed as hell, of course. His ego took a hit. He accused me of being a controlling cow, and I think he’s right.’ Abbi recalled the disappointment that had paled Blake’s face. It still hurt. ‘But he’s hardly going to turn you in. It incriminates him just as much. And it still ruins my life, which my heart tells me he doesn’t want, despite it all. But Hannah …’ Abbi shook her head.