Even in the dark I can make out her deadpan expression.
‘That’s a technicality,’ she says. ‘We still have to cut through the Weavers’ block to reach it.’
She’s not trying to back out, though. Sabeen’s here because she wants to be. My ransacked bedroom, Henry’s charred hat and the fire at Bernie’s shop have put her on edge. ‘Something’s really wrong about all of this,’ she told me this afternoon. ‘I’ll come with you as long as you promise that whatever we find goes straight to Sergeant Doherty.’
If we uncover something that leads us to Henry, I’ll be knocking on Doherty’s door before he’s even had breakfast.
‘In and out,’ I tell Sabeen now. ‘We don’t have to be here very long.’
‘Is your phone on silent?’
I pull it from my pocket to double-check. ‘I’m not getting much signal out here. How about you?’
She checks her phone as well. ‘Enough.’
As we draw closer to the Weavers’ driveway, we veer off behind some trees and hesitate. There’s a lot more moonlight tonight than when I was last here. It will make things easier to see, but much more difficult to hide.
‘Okay, stick to the plan,’ I whisper. ‘Straight to the back of the property and into the trees. There’s no sensor light on the carport and no windows on the carport side of the house. If we get to the backyard and any lights come on, run. In any direction. If we get separated, we meet back up here on the road.’
Sabeen nods, her face owl-like in the darkness.
We move down the driveway slowly, relying on patches of moonlight to guide us around potholes and away from noisy twigs. I monitor the Weavers’ house. The blinds are drawn and the windows are dark. The only sounds surrounding us are chirping crickets and whispering wind through the trees.
Mason’s blue station wagon has been reverse-parked in the carport. Its rectangular headlights follow us like eyes – an overgrown metal lion watching as we creep past its den. I’m so distracted by it that I don’t realise Sabeen has stopped in front of me. I bump into her and we both jump. Sabeen manages to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from yelping.
‘What?’ I whisper, looking around frantically. What can she see? Is Mason peering at us through a window? Is Ivy sitting in the shadows of the verandah smoking a cigarette? I turn my face upwards and sniff, trying to detect a whiff of cigarette smoke on the breeze.
‘It’s nothing,’ she whispers. ‘I thought I heard something.’ We both glance up towards the road. Sabeen said this three times on our walk over here as well. Her nerves are frayed already and we haven’t even got to the digging part yet.
We steer ourselves towards the safety of the tall trees running down the fence line, and it only now occurs to me we probably could have come through the vacant Milburn property and climbed over the fence to get to the same point. When we reach the tin shed, a little wave of relief washes over me that we’ve made it this far without getting caught.
‘Now for the tricky part,’ I say. ‘Stay here.’
I stick close to the shed walls, making my way around to the door. Glancing up at the house, I hold my breath as I ease the door open.
Squeeaakk.
Sabeen whispers a swearword in the silence that follows. No lights come on in the house, so I slip through the doorway and into the shed. It smells like oil cans and mouse droppings. Something skitters up the wall. I don’t want to use my phone light, and thankfully there’s enough moonlight in the doorway to locate the shovel hanging on a hook by the door.
Sneaking out again with the shovel gripped in my hand, I leave the door hanging open so I don’t risk another loud creak on our return.
‘Come on,’ I tell Sabeen, leading her along the narrow trail into the bush.
We struggle along in dappled moonlight until it feels like we’re in deep enough for me to switch on my phone light. The further we walk into the trees, the more the temperature seems to drop – or maybe it’s my mind playing tricks.
About fifty metres in, Sabeen hesitates. ‘Wait.’ She shines her phone light right in my face.
I hold my hand up to shield my face from the beam. ‘Sab, can you get the light out of my—’
‘Shhh,’ she says, tilting her phone at the ground. ‘You hear that? It sounded like a car starting up.’ She cocks her head towards the way we came in.
‘I can’t hear anything.’ I rest the shovel in the dirt, scanning the path up ahead. I don’t think we’re too far from the fallen tree. It’s hard to tell.
‘That way,’ Sabeen says, shining her phone on the dirt trail behind us. ‘You can hear it moving now, up along the road.’
I drop my head and stare at the walking track, straining to hear what she can. ‘No one else lives out here.’
‘You think it could be Mason?’
‘I don’t know.’ My heart thuds a bit faster. ‘Let’s keep going. I want to get this done as quickly as possible.’
Sabeen follows me without another word until we finally reach the fallen tree. I rest my phone on the trunk, pointing the light up into the tree canopy. With both hands on the shovel, I ask Sabeen to direct her light at the ground. It doesn’t take long to find an area cleared of dead leaves and twigs. Tucked half under the tree trunk is a patch of recently disturbed soil.
‘Here,’ I say. ‘This is it.’
Sabeen steadies the light. I take a deep breath and start scooping away soil with the shovel. My hands are shaking, and I realise Sabeen’s are too by the way the light jiggles. Neither of us are sure what we’re going to find, although we know it won’t be good if Mason feels the need to hide it.
‘What’s that?’ Sabeen asks, pointing into the hole. Something clear and shiny is poking out of the soil. I drop to my knees and clear the rest by hand, scooping around it until I’m able to wiggle it free, then I hold it up while Sabeen shines her phone light on it. It’s a large ziplock bag containing another ziplock bag. Inside it is a passport, a few documents and a huge wad of cash.
My eyes meet Sabeen’s. She appears momentarily relieved until she jerks around, shining her phone towards the way we came in. I stand and grab my phone too, the clear bag dangling in my hand. It’s not Sabeen’s imagination this time: heavy footsteps are pounding quickly along the dirt trail towards us. I shove my phone into my pocket and grope for the shovel at my feet. My fingers find the handle and I snatch it up at the exact moment a figure lurches out of the shadows.
‘What the hell is this?’ Mason says, squinting at the light from Sabeen’s phone. ‘What’s going on?’
He staggers towards us in a crumpled T-shirt and tracksuit pants, and a pair of old runners without socks. His hair is scruffy and he blinks like he’s struggling to focus. He seems drowsy rather than intoxicated.
Sabeen backs away from him to join me beside the tree trunk.
‘What are you doing?’ he says. His eyes dart to the ziplock bag in my hand. ‘What are you doing with my stuff?’
‘How did you know we were here?’ Sabeen says, her voice barely more than a squeak.
Mason points behind him. ‘You think I can’t see those lights from up on my driveway? Who stole my bloody car?’
‘What?’ I say. Sabeen and I exchange a glance. She really did hear a car’s engine starting. ‘That’s nothing to do with us.’
Mason swears under his breath. Ivy’s name pops up in the middle of the expletives.
‘Your mum stole it?’ Sabeen says.
‘Who else?’ Mason growls. ‘And now you’re stealing my stuff. Why won’t any of you just let me leave!’
His voice echoes through the trees around us and I feel a gut punch of fear. I’m scared for myself and Sabeen, but I’m also scared for Henry. Where is he? What did Mason do?
‘Why do you have a passport?’ I say, gripping the shovel. ‘Why are you running?’
‘Jesus Christ, Chloe! Will you give it a rest?’ he cries. ‘It’s none of your business, don’t you get it? None of this has ever been any of y
our business.’
Sabeen raises a pacifying hand. ‘Mason—’
‘And you,’ he says, turning on her. ‘I thought you were in my corner. Your family’s always been good to me. Now I have no one. I seriously have no one.’
His words have taken on a panicked edge. He’s losing control.
‘We want to leave now,’ I say. ‘We’ll go.’
‘Oh, will you now?’ he mocks. ‘Gonna casually walk out of here with my money?’
I’d almost forgotten it was in my hand. I consider the clear bag for a moment, and see a way for us to get out of here. But we’re going to have to run.
I whisper instructions into Sabeen’s ear and she nods. Mason sees the exchange and starts moving towards us just as I bend my arm and frisbee his ziplock bag further up the trail. It lands somewhere in the darkness behind a thick patch of ferns. He hesitates for a second, like he can’t believe I did that. Then he runs, thrashing through the shadowy undergrowth.
‘Go,’ I tell Sabeen, pushing her ahead of me. She launches herself at the narrow trail using her phone light to guide us. Her long ponytail swings back and forth in my face as I stay right on her heels. The bush around me is a blur. All I can hear is my own breath and the clang of the shovel against ferns. Heavy footsteps are gaining on us. How did Mason find his stuff so quickly? Did he even try to locate it? Or is it more important that he doesn’t let us get away?
I try to run side by side with Sabeen but there’s barely enough room for one person, let alone two.
‘He’s right behind us,’ she says, shaky and breathless. The tin shed is visible up ahead through a break in the trees. Almost there. Mason’s matching us step for step. He’s so close it feels like he’s panting in my ear.
Sabeen bursts out into the open a second before I do, running flat-out towards the house. I try to come up with a plan, knowing we should separate at the top of the driveway. I can draw Mason down towards the national park so Sabeen can run to town to get help.
‘Sabeen,’ I say. ‘When we—’
My voice is cut off as I’m yanked backwards. Mason has me by the hoodie, his fist clutching the fabric in the small of my back. He drags me to the ground and we both slide sideways across the dirt. The shovel flies out of my hand and tumbles away, out of reach.
I try to get up. Mason yanks me down again. I kick a leg out behind me and it connects with his knee.
‘Stop it!’ he yells.
‘Chloe!’ Sabeen cries, doubling back. ‘Mason, let her go.’
‘No,’ he says, dodging another kick from me.
He presses me facedown into the ground and rolls his upper body over my back. I try to buck him off. It’s no use; he’s got me pinned.
Sabeen dances around us, unsure what to do. ‘You’re squashing her, Mason. Stop!’
I try to wriggle out but he’s strong. His limbs feel rock hard with adrenaline.
‘Mason!’ Sabeen says. ‘She’s not getting any air. Get off her!’
My breath is hot against the dirt. I try to kick again.
‘Settle down,’ Mason says, pushing against me as he tries to get to his feet. ‘Tell me—’
Above my head is a whooshing sound followed by a hollow clang. Mason’s body slumps heavily on top of me. He’s a lead weight against my back, no longer moving.
‘What …?’ Rolling him off me, I jerk my head up to see Sabeen standing over us with the shovel in her hand.
‘Oh no,’ she says in a small voice. ‘Oh no, oh no.’
I scramble to my feet and turn to find Mason crumpled on his side, knocked out cold.
‘What did I do?’ Sabeen says. ‘I hit Mason. I hit Mason.’
‘You’re okay.’ I gingerly remove the shovel from her grip. Her hands are trembling. ‘It’s all right. He’s going to have a headache, but he’ll be okay.’
Sabeen looks as though she doesn’t believe me, and then Mason’s leg twitches. He groans.
Sabeen presses her hands to her face. ‘Oh god, he’s going to hate me.’
‘He’s coming around,’ I say.
‘Come on, then.’ Sabeen tugs at my sleeve. ‘Let’s go.’
‘I can’t leave. He hasn’t told us where Henry is.’
‘I don’t care! We’ve got to—’
‘But I care,’ I tell her.
Sabeen’s face scrunches in dismay. ‘I’m not hitting him again, Chloe. You need to let it go.’
‘Let him go, you mean.’ I shake my head. ‘Not until he gives us answers.’
‘I don’t want to stay,’ Sabeen says, on the verge of tears. She pulls out her phone and tries to dial a number. ‘No signal,’ she croaks.
Mason groans again, scratching weak fingers in the dirt. I scour our surroundings in frustration until my eyes find the tin shed, its door still hanging open.
‘You run up to the house,’ I tell her, ‘and see if you can get a better phone signal. If not, go to the road and keep heading towards town until you do.’
‘Who do I call?’
‘Sergeant Doherty. Your parents. My dad. Okay?’
Sabeen looks uncertain. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’ll wait here and make sure he doesn’t leave.’
‘How?’ she says, her voice cracking. ‘He’s too strong for you.’
I take her by the shoulders and turn her towards the house. ‘Let me worry about that. Please go.’
‘Come with me,’ she begs.
‘It’ll be okay,’ I assure her. ‘Just get Sergeant Doherty here as soon as you can.’
She reaches out and squeezes my hand, then takes off. As soon as there’s enough darkness between us to mask my movements, I crouch next to Mason, sliding my arms under his shoulders. I couldn’t ask Sabeen to help me with this; she’s distressed enough already.
Mason grunts as I haul his upper torso off the ground. His body has no fight in it. His head dangles loosely, rocking from side to side between his shoulders. Digging my heels into the dirt, I heave him backwards a metre at a time, my shoulders aching with the effort. By the time I reach the shed I’m drenched in sweat and wheezing.
Mason groans and mumbles something incoherent. He manages to lift his head as I’m pulling him across the dirt floor of the shed. I leave him on his back in the shadows.
‘Owww,’ he says, as I’m slamming the door closed behind me.
I shine my phone light in the darkness to locate the shovel, then wedge it against the shed door, tucking it under the doorhandle and kicking the metal scoop across the ground until it won’t budge any further. It’ll hold … for now.
On the other side of the door there’s a scrape against the dirt as Mason shifts his weight. ‘God, what did you do to me?’
I lean my hand against the cool metal. ‘Mason, I need you to be honest with me.’
‘I don’t owe you a thing, Chloe.’ Something bumps around and I hear a click. A thin strip of light appears under the door.
‘Why did you say you were home the night Henry went missing? Rina saw your car twice on Railway Parade.’
He scrapes against the ground again. ‘For god’s sake! I drove up to the graveyard, okay?’
‘Why?’
He exhales loudly. ‘Stuff went down at home.’
‘Stuff?’ I lean closer to the door. ‘What sort of stuff?’
‘I smashed the living shit out of my mother’s glass cabinet. Let’s just say she wasn’t pleased.’
So Raf was right about the missing cabinet and Ivy’s blue plates. Is that why the kitchen was so clean the following day?
‘What happened to Henry?’ I say. ‘Did you hurt him?’
‘No! I did want to tell him what I thought of him, though. But when I got into his room he was gone. Climbed out his bedroom window.’
I lower myself to the ground. ‘What time was this?’
‘God, I dunno. About eleven? He probably had to wait hours for a train.’
‘You really think he got on a train?’
There’s a
pause before Mason asks, ‘Don’t you?’
‘I don’t know what to think.’
‘His bike was found at the train station,’ he says.
I turn my face towards the door. ‘Did you plant it there?’
‘What?’
‘To make it seem like Henry had run away.’
There’s a surprised scoff on the other side of the door. ‘Wow. Wow. Is that really what you think of me? That I did something to Henry? Is that why I’m locked in a shed right now? Unbelievable!’
‘Did your mother do something to him?’
‘Well, yeah! She did plenty. She belittled us, broke our stuff, verbally abused us. But she didn’t murder my brother, Chloe.’
Without thinking, I kick the shovel aside and let the door swing open. I need to see his face. Mason is sitting with an arm resting over his bent knee, a torch on the ground by his side.
‘Why did you lie about being home that night?’ I say, standing in the doorway. ‘Why did your mother cover for you?’
He’s in no hurry to move. ‘Ivy was so hungover the day after the storm, it was after ten or so before she realised Henry wasn’t home and hadn’t slept in his bed. She knew she’d have to start ringing around, and if anyone came over they’d see the state of the place.’ He shifts, stretching the muscles in his neck. ‘She made me clean up the mess, and then she came up with the cover story and told me to stick to it. She said she was sick of everyone in town judging us. She didn’t want them sticking their noses in.’ He shakes his head. ‘I seriously think she believed Henry would turn up at any moment and the whole thing would blow over.’
‘Why didn’t you tell Doherty the truth about where you were?’
Mason hangs his head. ‘There were … circumstances that I didn’t want anyone to know about. It seemed easier to roll with Ivy’s story because none of the other stuff changed the fact that Henry had run away.’
I think of how Raf and I kept the truth about our whereabouts that night from Doherty for similar reasons.
‘And you’re sure your mother was home?’ I say. ‘She didn’t lie about where she was?’
‘I don’t know exactly what time I got in. It couldn’t have been later than one, though – I’d only been out for a couple of hours. She was definitely passed out on the couch in front of the TV when I came home. That part wasn’t a lie.’
Deep Water Page 24