Small broken branches crisscross the Gordons’ front lawn, and a wattle is slumped against the front veranda, yellow flowers like confetti on the porch.
I ease my key into the front door and pull it shut behind me, resting my forehead on the timber. I still feel shaky but I’m no longer tired; I’m way beyond that now. A grim determination has taken over, propelling me to get to the bottom of this stinking mess, to shut it down so Ben and I can get the hell out of here. I push away from the door and let the anger rinse through me, liking the way my fists ball and my jaw tightens.
Ben is in my bed now, curled in sleep. Did he panic when he discovered I was gone? Did he cry into the dark wondering if I’d come back? What would have happened if I hadn’t come back? I smooth a curl of his hair and trace my fingers across his freckles. I know that face better than my own, but he still remains a mystery. He is both mine and completely separate. The joy he brings me only just outweighs the dread he evokes deep in my bones.
I slink out and pull the door closed.
In the living room a soft line of light edges across the floor, the new day sneaking past its predecessor. Tommy and Vanessa sit side by side at the table, empty mugs in front of them. There is a basket of Easter eggs on the kitchen bench.
‘Are you alright, Gemma?’ Vanessa’s voice is unsure.
I sit down heavily in front of them.
‘I spoke to Tran,’ says Tommy. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘Ben came into our room last night,’ says Vanessa, ‘when he couldn’t find you. I told him you were fine and would be back soon.’ She twists her wedding ring around her finger. ‘He settled very quickly in your bed.’
‘Thanks.’ I fight a flurry of feelings as I look at them, these strangers in front of me.
Their faces are lined with worry but there is a caution there too, a tinge of defensiveness.
‘How’s de Luca?’ Tommy asks.
‘She’s stable,’ I reply, ‘but critical. That’s all I know. Her mum refused to come—apparently they’re estranged—but her girlfriend is with her.’
Tommy’s fat fingers grip the mug. ‘I just can’t believe Lane could do that,’ he mutters, his eyes wet. Vanessa takes his hand and pulls it into her lap.
My resolve falters. ‘They are trying to get to his body now the rain has stopped.’
Vanessa squeezes her eyes shut. ‘God.’
‘I don’t think he could see another way out.’
Tommy nods but I can sense that, like me, he’s stuck on playing out the scene: Lane driving to the cliffs, stumbling out of his car, throwing himself into the void. Tommy bends his neck and presses his fingers into the ridge of his eyebrows. ‘He was a good kid.’
‘He probably raped a teenage girl,’ I snap. ‘And he lied to all of us. He threatened the Clarks and shot a cop.’
Tommy baulks at my outburst.
‘We all misread him,’ I continue. My hands are shaking so I clasp them together. Put them in my lap.
‘We’re allowed to be sad, Gemma,’ says Vanessa.
‘Sure, and I’m allowed to be angry.’
Finally Tommy says, ‘How long was something going on between them?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘And the bike?’
‘I’m guessing he panicked when she turned up that night. He knew she’d be on the security tapes. Once he saw she’d left her bike on the street, he must have figured a fake robbery report would be a good cover for her visit. If anyone ever asked about it, Abbey could just claim it turned up the next day and he could mention it casually to you but let you know it was all resolved. No loose ends.’
‘So what went wrong?’ asks Tommy.
‘I think she told him she broke up with Rick and that she wanted to be with him, and he shut her down. She got upset, refused his offer of a lift and ran off. Lane had already received the call about the party and called you. So he stashed the bike in the shed. He knew no one ever used it, and he thought he’d sort everything out when Abbey calmed down.’
‘That’s why I beat him to the party.’
‘Yes.’
‘But Lane wasn’t the one who—’
‘I don’t think so. My guess is that Abbey met up with Rick that night—she knew he was meeting friends on the beach. I think she confessed what had been going on between her and Lane, and that Rick lost it. Lane was just hell-bent on clearing his name because he knew that after everything else, he’d be the prime suspect.’
‘And Daniel killed Rick?’
‘If Dot is telling the truth about him leaving the house on Monday morning, then it makes the most sense.’
Tommy mumbles something under his breath.
‘Will Daniel be charged?’ asks Vanessa.
I picture the spread of red on the dirty cream carpet. Daniel’s arms around de Luca, his mouth moving as he spoke to her.
‘If Dot goes through with her statement, including the historical abuse, then I think he will.’
A neighbour opens their back door and a cheerful 80s song rolls into the Gordons’ yard.
Vanessa glances at her watch and eases herself to her feet. ‘I’ll make some tea. Tommy, you need to take your pills.’
He and I lock eyes across the table.
‘Tommy,’ I say, ‘I know you have a problem.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he says gruffly.
‘The pills, Tommy. The doctor shopping. Your accident. Were you covering the fact you were high?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Did you contact the newspaper about me? Try to scare me out of town?’
‘What? No. You’re clearly exhausted. Take a nap.’
Leaning forward, I bare my teeth. ‘Don’t tell me what I need, Tommy. I’m not sure I even know the half of it, but I swear to god I will find out.’ I narrow my eyes to slits. ‘Are you running some kind of scheme with Eric Sheffield? How far does this thing go, Tommy?’
He pushes his chair back from the table in a flourish. ‘You’re mad,’ he hisses. ‘Clearly the strain of this case has gotten to you.’
‘Ben’s awake,’ Vanessa warns, cocking her head to the hallway. I hear the toilet flush.
I give Tommy another sharp look and go to see Ben. He’s pulling on clothes in his bedroom. He looks tired, a dark smudge under each eye.
‘I got called out last night,’ I say into his hair. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up.’
‘Gemma.’ Vanessa is standing in the doorway, a sharp line between her brows.
I pull away from Ben. Draw myself tall.
‘Give Tommy a break,’ she says. ‘He’s very upset about Lane.’
‘That doesn’t excuse his involvement in something illegal.’
Hurt cuts across her face. ‘Tommy wouldn’t do anything like that.’
‘Please,’ I say, rolling my eyes, ‘don’t you get sick of blindly supporting him?’
Her eyes flash as her arms fold. ‘We’ve done a lot for you.’
I snort. ‘Stop protecting him, Vanessa.’ I give my son a stiff smile. ‘Come on, Ben, we have to go.’
‘Now?’ He raises his right eyebrow and looks worriedly back and forth between us.
‘Yes. Get your jumper on and brush your teeth.’
I push past Vanessa and go into my room, where I swap my filthy shirt for a clean orange T-shirt, blast my underarms with deodorant and shove some things into a backpack.
‘Come on, Ben!’
Vanessa tugs on my arm, the skin around her neck strained as she says, ‘Gemma, don’t you think he’s been through enough?’
‘Let go of me.’ I open the front door and usher Ben outside.
‘This is ridiculous, Gemma,’ Vanessa calls after us, ‘you need to get some sleep! It’s driving me mad watching you run yourself into the ground in your condition.’
I gape at her. ‘What?’
‘I know about the baby,’ she blurts. ‘I saw the test in the rubbish.’