I don’t realise I’ve spoken out loud until I see Jonesy’s confused expression. ‘You?’
‘Yes. I could go. I could do it. I want to do it.’
Jonesy’s hairline gleams with sweat, and he almost drops his paper plate as he mops at it with a serviette. ‘What about Ben?’
‘I’ll take him. He hates being here at the moment anyway. Maybe a change of scenery will do us both good. Do you think they have holiday programs up there? That’s what he normally does when school’s not on. Or I’ll get a nanny—if he comes to Sydney with me, I’ll need to do that anyway.’
Jonesy looks at me doubtfully. ‘Are you serious, Gemma? I know the last few weeks have been really tough on you, and today’s obviously very difficult, but I really think—’
‘I’m totally serious. Let me speak to Ben, and then you can call the chief back and tell her I’ll come. I can’t stay here anyway, it’s killing me.’
Someone has moved the photo of Scott to the rear of the hall, and people have formed a line to say goodbye to Jodie and offer their final condolences. Soon, I assume they will slink away to drink heavily and reflect on the tragedy of a young life cut short.
After tugging Ben away from where he’s standing with Rebecca, I quickly explain the situation in Fairhaven.
He doesn’t hesitate. ‘I want to come with you.’
‘Are you sure?’ I say, holding his chin and looking into his eyes.
He nods vigorously. ‘I don’t want to stay here.’
I walk back over to Rebecca.
‘Gemma, you can’t just leave,’ she says, her grey eyes alarmed. ‘You need to talk to your dad.’
But the desire to escape is coursing through me. ‘No, we have to get going,’ I say.
She desperately scans the crowd. ‘Please let me find Ned first.’
I call to her over my shoulder while I walk with Ben across the grass. ‘I’ll talk to Dad at home. We have to pack.’ I bundle Ben into one of the taxis lining the street outside the church, squeezing his hand as I tip my head back against the car seat.
Feeling nervous, I call the number Jonesy gave me.
Chief Inspector Celia Tran’s voice is clipped and businesslike. ‘So, Ken would have told you we’re dealing with a homicide and a missing person, but we’re not sure at this stage if they are linked.’
‘How did the boy die?’ I ask.
‘Beaten to death in his garage,’ she replies. ‘Head injuries.’
‘No weapon?’
‘We’re still looking.’
I nod, trying to imagine a teenage girl beating a teenage boy to death.
‘Does the girl have any history of running away?’ I ask.
‘No,’ says Tran, ‘but her family situation is extremely volatile. To be honest, I was pretty sure we were looking at a runaway or perhaps a suicide until we got the call about Rick this morning. Now I’m not sure what to think.’
Déjà vu has me flailing as if I’m falling, even though my feet are still flat on the ground. The seeds of doubt that lodged inside me during the Mara case are back.
‘Do either of them have known drug links?’
‘It’s a pretty clean town these days,’ she replies, a hint of pride in her voice. ‘We had an ice issue across the region a few years back, but all of the squads from Byron to Fairhaven have worked hard to drive it out of the community. The new hospital in Fairhaven has helped, and there was some government funding as well. There’s still a lot of low-grade marijuana use, but that doesn’t cause too many problems. The party drugs are normally brought in by the backpackers and tend to be seasonal. We watch it over summer, but it’s pretty tame.’
What she’s describing sounds similar to Smithson, except I know from talking to Jonesy that ice remains a big issue.
‘I’m keen to get on top of everything asap,’ I say.
‘I’ll send you what we have so far, which obviously isn’t much.’ She pauses. ‘You’ll need to hit the ground running, I’m afraid. It’s a small town and there will be a lot of pressure to assure everyone they’re safe.’
Blood pounds through my head. ‘No problem. I’ll read as much as I can on the plane.’
‘Good. Well, you’re certainly getting me out of a bind. The local CI says there’s no way the team up here can manage something like this. Now, I’ve just checked—I can get you and your son on a 1.30 pm flight from Gowran, if that’s doable?’
I glance sideways at Ben, then at the clock on the taxi’s dash. ‘We’ll be there.’
‘Okay, good. We won’t move the body until you arrive, so let me know if you’re delayed.’
‘Gemma, this is ridiculous.’ Dad stands in the guestroom doorway while I shove clothes and toiletries into my suitcase. ‘Ben needs to be with family right now.’
I spin around. ‘No, he needs to be with me. But not here. We need to get out of here.’
The toe of my workboot peeks out from under the bed. I add it to a growing mountain of items on the ugly apricot armchair.
My phone pings with emails that I know are from Inspector Tran: case notes, accommodation details, paperwork.
‘What does Mac say about all this?’ says Dad stiffly.
I feel a sharp stab of guilt as I push strands of hair from my sweaty face. ‘He thinks I should do whatever feels right,’ I snap. ‘He trusts me.’
‘And Jodie?’
‘I haven’t spoken to her yet, but I don’t need her permission. We’ve agreed Ben is staying with me for now. I’ll call her later.’
Dad closes his eyes and his face tics with frustration. ‘Gemma, can you at least stop and think about this? Sleep on it. This isn’t a good time to make hasty decisions.’
‘For god’s sake, Dad, I need to get to the crime scene today. The flight is booked.’ I push my weight against my overflowing suitcase, tugging the zip around the bulging sections. I turn back to face him. ‘Look, I know you’re worried but me sitting around here isn’t really achieving anything. And it’s not like Ben is missing class for the next two weeks—the holidays start on Thursday.’
Rebecca appears in the doorway, her gaze flicking nervously between the two of us. ‘Maybe some time away from Smithson is a good idea, Ned.’
Dad throws his hands up in the air. ‘What, it’s a good idea to drag a grieving little kid to some strange place while his mother loses herself in a murder investigation? Are you crazy?’
‘I just meant,’ Rebecca says, fidgeting with her hanky, ‘I can see how being here might be difficult for Gemma and Ben right now. Nothing about any of this is easy.’
Surprised, I throw a grateful look her way. ‘Rebecca’s right.’
He opens his mouth before simply closing it again, shaking his head. ‘It’s Easter this weekend.’
‘Who fucking cares? It’s not like we’re going to be celebrating anyway.’
‘Gemma!’
‘I’m sorry, Dad, but I need to do this.’
An old memory drifts into my consciousness, of Dad and me going through the motions of Christmas a few weeks after Mum died, the excruciating pain of pretending the familiar routine would make us feel better.
Dad gives me a long look, the heat of his anger cooling into sadness. ‘I’m not going to tell you what to do, Gemma—lord knows I haven’t bothered doing that for years—but I want it known that I think this is an incredibly stupid idea.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ I say sarcastically. ‘I appreciate your support.’ I push past him to grab Ben’s suitcase.
He follows me up the hall. ‘Surely you realise things are different now? It’s not all about you anymore. You don’t have the luxury of assuming Ben is okay and that someone else is looking out for him.’
My face flushes violently and I clench my teeth trying to keep the venom from my words. ‘I’m very aware that Ben is my son and it’s my job to look after him. And that’s what I’m trying to do. But I can’t be here right now. I just can’t.’
Dad sighs. ‘Well, I guess you have some thinking to do, my girl. This is Ben’s home. He has family here. People who love him. And, frankly, he is the priority, not you.’ Dad adds quietly, ‘What would Scott think?’
Fury hits me, followed by a gut-punch of guilt, but I don’t want to fight with Dad anymore; I don’t have the energy. I take in his fallen face, riddled with creases and sunspots. Had he wanted to leave Smithson after Mum died? Had he felt compelled to start over somewhere else? I can easily summon Dad’s drawn expression and empty stares, but that’s all. Despite my grief and confusion, the agony of being alive after Mum was gone, I never considered we’d do anything but soldier on in Smithson.
I fill my lungs with air and try to calm down. ‘It’s only for a little while. I need time to think, and I can’t do that here. Plus, I’m better when I’m working, you know that.’ I pluck Ben’s T-shirts, shorts and underwear from the sofa bed in the study and push them into his backpack.
‘Gemma, I know you love Ben. You just need to remember that he needs you like he’s never needed you before.’ Dad’s voice shakes. ‘You just better bloody make sure you’re there for him.’
Candy and I are standing outside the security checkpoint at the airport waiting for Ben, who is buying a packet of chips. I catch my reflection in a shop mirror. I’m a head shorter than Candy and I look almost childlike next to her. My long dark hair is held back from my face with the cheap sunglasses I just bought from the chemist but my ponytail is a messy mane down my back. The skin on my arms and face is pale and there are dark rings under my green eyes. Not only do I feel unfit but I look it too—the recent pause in my exercise routine is obvious in the roundness of my figure.
‘Thanks for driving us,’ I say.
‘No problem,’ says Candy evenly. She’s still wearing her funeral attire but has added a denim jacket. She shifts her weight to her other hip and clutches at her huge stomach. ‘I mean, I get it. A boy is dead, a girl is missing, probably dead, and you’re like a bee to honey, you totally get off on that stuff.’
‘Candy!’
‘Don’t worry, I get off on it too.’
Ben returns and I pull him into a hug, the chip packet rustling between us. ‘All okay?’
He nods. ‘Can I have your phone?’
‘Ten minutes,’ I say, handing it over.
‘And I don’t think you’re running away,’ continues Candy, her gaze fixed on Ben.
‘I didn’t say I was.’
‘I mean, you already did that ages ago.’
‘Candy!’
‘I’m just mucking around.’ She tips her neck hard to the right, wincing. ‘What did Mac say?’
‘I’m going to call him later.’
She folds her arms over her bump and purses her lips. ‘You haven’t told him yet?’
I don’t reply.
‘Jesus, Gemma,’ she mutters.
‘Mac will understand,’ I say, even though I’m not sure he will. ‘He knows I’m not ready to bring Ben to Sydney. I need time to think about what we’re going to do.’
Candy fills her cheeks with air, then huffs it out. ‘Well, I can see how some people might think going from your ex-partner’s funeral to some tin-pot surf town to solve a homicide is weird. But you are weird. And I get that you need a bit of time out from good old Shit Town. Plus, you’re a workaholic so you’re going cuckoo not having a case. This way you get to kill a few birds with one stone.’ She yawns widely. ‘Sorry, I’m knackered. Anyway, who cares what anyone thinks? You’re in mourning—you can act as weird as you like.’
‘Thanks, Candy.’ I give her a hug, breathing in her citrus perfume.
‘Don’t thank me.’ She talks into my hair. ‘Just make sure you come back with a plan. It’s fine to be in freefall for a little while, but your kid needs to know where his life is heading. Or at least where he’s going to live.’
Her comment burns. I essentially deactivated my parenting licence four years ago, and I know it. I played an active support role, cheering enthusiastically from the sidelines, but was more than happy to let Scott drive. And now I’m in the driver’s seat of a speeding car with faulty brakes, a white-knuckled Ben beside me.
When our flight is called over the speaker system, I gesture for Ben.
‘I plan to come back with a plan,’ I say softly.
Candy gives me a long, hard stare. ‘Good.’ She looks over at the airport restaurant and clutches her belly again. ‘Shit, what a day. Don’t tell anyone but I’m going to have a wine.’