Back home the next day, Pūriri is waiting in the airport Arrivals area.
Seeing him is like a round-house kick to the solar plexus. Adam’s knees go soft. How did Pūriri know they’d be here? Gripping tight to the strap of his backpack, Adam whispers to Skye out of the side of his mouth.
‘Police.’
‘Oh heck.’ Skye edges closer and takes Adam’s hand. For a second, Adam contemplates making a dash for it, grabbing Skye and pulling her through the side entrance where the line of taxis and shuttle buses wait like cows at a milking shed. But this isn’t prime time television and he isn’t Jack Bauer. Besides, Pūriri’s already spotted them. Cutting a line through the arriving travellers, the detective marches over, his shoes squeaking on the polished linoleum. ‘Your father thinks I’m picking you up from a training camp in Whakatāne,’ he says, without preamble.
Still in shock, Adams says, ‘But how did you...?’
‘Long arm of the law,’ Pūriri replies. ‘Immigration has been monitoring departing passengers named Creighton. When your name came up, my colleague there called it in. Any baggage?’
Adam lifts the strap of his backpack off his shoulder. ‘Just these,’ he says, grimly. ‘We packed light.’
‘Right, then.’ With a curt wave, the detective directs them out of the crowd. Adam places his hand in the curve of Skye’s back.
‘Sir, this isn’t Skye’s fault. Going to Aussie had nothing to do with her.’
‘On the contrary,’ Pūriri says, stopping clear of the crowd. ‘Sources tell me it had everything to do with Miss Wētere. Give me your car keys, please.’
Sources? What sources? But Adam is too flustered to think. Crouching, he scrabbles around in the pocket of his backpack and, after a few minutes, stands up and hands the detective the Mazda keys and the long-stay parking docket. Pūriri promptly passes them off to a young officer hovering to his left. Until now Adam hadn’t noticed him.
‘You’d better show us where you parked it.’
Half an hour later, they’re heading back to Tauranga on the southern motorway, Skye and Adam in the back seat of Pūriri’s Commodore and the young constable following in Mum’s Mazda. Nearing Bombay, Skye asks Pūriri if he would mind pulling into the services for a comfort stop. As Skye runs in to the service station, Adam leans forward, one hand on the headrest in front of him.
‘Sir? Are we in trouble?’
‘Have you done anything illegal?’ Alongside, a blue Ford Explorer pulls in to the pumps. A man with a massive beer-gut gets out of the Explorer, hitches up his jeans, then lifts the nozzle off the pump.
‘No, sir,’ Adam says, feeling uneasy. Not since the party anyway.
‘In that case, you’re not in trouble with me. Although I suspect your parents might not agree. If I were to call Miss Wētere’s mother, would she know where her daughter is right now?’ The big detective makes a good Jiminy Cricket. Adam drops his head, suddenly ashamed. Keeping the trip a secret was a stupid idea. Why hadn’t they levelled with Skye’s mum? They could’ve explained. The way Skye talks about Aroha, there’s a chance she would’ve understood.
‘Son?’ Pūriri prompts.
‘No, sir. She thinks Skye’s staying at Pukehina with a friend.’ Adam picks viciously at his thumbnail. Outside, the beer-gut guy hitches up his pants again.
‘Hmm.’ Pūriri keeps his eyes to the front.
‘It was my idea,’ Adam blurts. ‘I talked Skye into it.’
‘I’m sure it seemed judicious at the time,’ Pūriri says, his gaze still forward.
‘We were looking for Skye’s dad. He ran out before she was born.’
‘So I understand.’
Adam snorts. ‘Turns out, he’s still a shit.’
Twisting in his seat, Pūriri gives Adam a hard look. ‘I agree, it’s disappointing. But Miss Wētere does have one supportive parent, right? Someone who cares for her? Someone who’d be distressed to learn she isn’t where she’s supposed to be?’
Adam doesn’t reply. He lowers his eyes and picks at his nail some more. As consciences go, Pūriri is pretty hard to ignore.
The Ford Explorer pulls away. Skye comes out of the service station and makes her way towards them, shaking water off her hands. Watching her, Adam puts his thumb in the corner of his mouth, tasting blood where his cuticle has torn away. He hopes Aroha hasn’t already discovered that Skye isn’t where she’s supposed to be because Adam knows exactly how it feels to misplace someone you love.
His head jerking, Adam wakes with a start, aware that Skye is no longer beside him. They’ve stopped. He straightens up and rubs his eyes.
‘Where’s Skye? Another toilet stop?’
‘We stopped briefly in Ngātea. Miss Wētere switched cars while you were asleep. My colleague is taking her home.’
Adam peers through the window. It’s early evening. Outside, a number of large buildings reflect the amber beams of nearby streetlights.
‘Where are we?’
‘We’re in Rotorua. At the hospital,’ Pūriri declares.
‘The hospital! What for?’
‘We’re here to see your father.’
‘Dad? Why? Has he had an accident?’ In an instant, Adam is fully awake, his blood thundering in his head. He fumbles with the door handle, frantic to escape the vehicle. He needs to get out so he can find Dad. Please let him be okay. Adam only has one parent left!
The seatbelt yanks him back.
‘He isn’t injured, Adam. That’s not why we’re here.’
‘Then why?’
‘The mortuary,’ Pūriri says. ‘We’ve found a body.’