‘Jesus Christ, Woodstock,’ booms Jonesy, ‘trust you to solve three murders for the price of one.’
I blush as several officers spin around to gawk at me, standing in the doorway of Smithson Police Station.
‘I haven’t submitted my paperwork yet, so at this point I won’t be getting paid at all,’ I quip awkwardly. ‘Plus, it’s actually four murders if you count the other teen Cam killed.’
‘Well, bloody good work anyway.’ Jonesy clamps his giant hand around my shoulder and glares at his staff, implying their lack of miraculous case breakthroughs is a sackable offence.
‘In you come,’ he tells me, guiding me toward his office. ‘This way, this way.’
Nostalgia hits me as we walk down the corridor. It feels like yesterday. It feels like a million years ago. I spy a portable fan in the corner that I’m pretty sure was on its last legs when I first made detective.
Jonesy directs me to the couch and closes the door, easing himself into his worn leather chair.
He hinges forward and peers at my face. ‘Seriously, Gemma, I couldn’t believe it when I heard what happened. Is the constable going to be alright?’
‘Yes, but she has a long road in front of her. Fortunately she’s extremely tough.’
‘And what about you? How are you holding up?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You shot and killed someone, Gemma. Ben was threatened. I doubt you’re fine.’
I look at him in surprise. No one has described what happened in Fairhaven like that, and Cam’s death feels dirty and horrible, exposed in the air between us.
‘I wish that wasn’t how it played out,’ I say slowly. ‘But I had no choice. I had to shoot him.’
‘I’m bloody glad you did,’ agrees Jonesy, ‘but these things can be mysterious in the way they sneak up on you. See a shrink—god knows there’s enough of them floating around in the force—and make sure you get your head straight.’ He narrows his eyes at me. ‘You should be doing that anyway.’
‘I see someone in Sydney all the time. I have for ages.’
‘Sure. But you’re not in Sydney right now, so get a new person.’
My chin lifts automatically before I force it down. ‘You’re right, I will.’
‘Good.’ He leans back in his chair again. ‘You look tired, Gemma.’
‘I am. It’s been a pretty intense couple of days.’
Dad and I stayed up late last night talking. Rebecca had gone out with a friend, and Ben was at Jodie’s, so it was just the two of us. Dad was still angry at me for going to Fairhaven. He felt betrayed and rejected. I apologised and tried to explain the suffocating feeling I often get in Smithson. How I’m worried that if I live here again, the horrible restlessness I battled for years will return and I’ll slowly go mad. We talked about Mum and Ben, Scott and Mac. We talked about Rebecca. About Dad getting old. He told me all the things he worries about. I don’t think either of us have ever been so honest with each other before.
‘You don’t understand how much you and Ben mean to me, Gem,’ he said, his voice rough. ‘You are everything to me, both of you.’
‘I know, Dad,’ I said, letting him hug me like I was a little girl.
I didn’t tell him about my pregnancy—I didn’t want him to feel invested in something that might simply fade away.
‘How is Ben?’ asks Jonesy, jerking me back to the present.
I breathe out through puffed cheeks. ‘He’s okay. He’s a pretty amazing kid.’
‘Well of course he bloody is. Never a doubt.’
‘How are things here?’ I say, noticing his desk is uncharacteristically neat.
‘Not bad.’ He clears his throat. ‘A few issues keeping me on my toes as per usual, but nothing we can’t handle.’ He pauses. ‘I spoke to Tommy earlier. He wouldn’t go into detail but he mentioned some ongoing medical issues. He’s considering calling it a day, I think.’
‘That’s good to hear. I know he’s your friend but I’m definitely not his biggest fan.’
Jonesy’s nod is slow and thoughtful. ‘I feel pretty bad about how it all panned out,’ he says gruffly. ‘I keep thinking it would’ve been better if I had gone.’
‘It wasn’t your fault—I wanted to get out of here. I think I needed to.’
‘How do you feel about being back?’
I twist my hands together and notice how long my fingernails have grown. ‘I don’t know,’ I reply honestly. ‘Ben needs stability, that’s all I am sure of right now.’ I look into Jonesy’s concerned eyes but find no answers there.
‘Will you be staying in Smithson for a while?’ he asks tentatively.
‘For a while,’ I say with a small smile.
‘How does your boyfriend in Sydney feel about that?’
A laugh bubbles in my throat. ‘I think I’m a bit old to have a boyfriend. And Mac’s closer to your age than mine.’
‘Well, whatever you bloody well call him,’ says Jonesy, looking embarrassed.
I sigh. ‘I don’t know. Things between us are a bit up in the air right now.’
Mac still hasn’t responded to my message from Tuesday; his radio silence is killing me.
Shifting awkwardly, Jonesy folds his arms across his chest and changes the subject. ‘And what about work?’
‘I don’t know.’
There’s a silence. He twitches a pen between his fingers, tapping the tip against the wood. I fight an urge to grab the pen and throw it in the bin.
‘I don’t know,’ I repeat. ‘The internal investigation will go for another few weeks. Assuming it’s fairly straightforward and I’m cleared, I’ll extend my leave.’ I look past Jonesy to the main room. A brunette constable lifts the top of the photocopier, briefly illuminating her face. ‘After that, we’ll see.’
Jonesy looks like he’s about to say something else, and I tense up, hoping he won’t present me with an offer I’ll have to consider. Something that will complicate things even further and force a decision—yet another one.
‘Anyway, I really should go,’ I say. ‘I just wanted to say hi, but I’ve got heaps to do, you know, getting stuff organised for the next few weeks. There’s a lot I need to work out with Jodie.’
‘Of course.’ Jonesy shoots up from his chair surprisingly quickly. ‘But if you’re going to be hanging around here for a while, I expect you to pop in occasionally. I want to stay across your plans. There might be, ah, options for you closer to home.’
‘Definitely.’ I get to my feet and stamp them gently, shifting some mild pins and needles. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
I lift my hand in a series of awkward waves as I make my way through the office to the car park. I picture a former version of myself at the desk in the corner: a young woman in uniform with long tangled dark hair, her jaw angled in a stubborn tilt, eyes narrowed at the world.
Sliding into Scott’s car, I lean back and stare at the underside of the sun visor. I actually don’t have anywhere to be. Ben is still at Jodie’s; Dad and Rebecca have gone shopping in Gowran. It’s still a few hours until my call with Simon, who’s writing a special feature about the murders and Abbey’s reappearance.
I shake my head so hard my brain rattles, feeling oddly restless and at a loss. Maybe I should just drive back to Dad’s and try to nap. I turn on the car just as my phone rings.
‘Hey, Candy.’
‘Gemma, come have a coffee with me.’
‘Now?’
‘Yeah, I’m at Reggie’s. Are you free?’
‘I’m just leaving the police station. Be there in a sec.’
I drive around the block and park next to Candy’s bright red Fiat. The cafe is packed and noisy. Candy sits in a booth along the back wall, her huge belly encased in a stretchy lime dress. A half-finished chocolate milkshake is in front of her, and she’s talking animatedly to someone seated opposite.
Her face lights up when she sees me, then she wriggles out from the bench seat.
‘Yes, I’ll give you an interview about Rick’s murder,’ I say, hugging her tight and feeling the firmness of her belly between us. ‘But not about finding Abbey. I’ve already promised an exclusive to Simon.’
‘Typical.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘As if I would ask you for that, anyway.’
I swat at her. ‘As if you wouldn’t.’
Candy’s dark eyes bore into mine and she squeezes my hand. ‘I’m really glad you’re okay, Gem. I was worried.’ She looks back toward the booth and bites her lip.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Mac’s here.’
‘Where?’
‘Over there.’
My heart rate picks up. ‘I thought he was in Sydney. Does he know I’m here?’
‘Not here here.’ She smiles with her trademark sass but I sense some nervousness. ‘He’s finding you hard to navigate and wanted my advice, but I don’t know what to tell him. You’re a total nightmare.’
I glance over and can see the side of his leg and his Italian leather boot.
‘You need to talk to him, Gemma.’
I try to smile. ‘Candy, he obviously wants to talk to you right now, not me.’
‘Get over there now or I’ll go into labour and make you deliver this baby with your bare hands.’
She gives me a little shove.
Mac holds his Breitling watch taut between his hands, turning it in a slow circle.
He looks up.
‘Gemma!’ He half stands, then realises he’s wedged behind the table. Eyebrows raised, he turns to Candy.
‘What a coincidence!’ She grabs her bag and wiggles her fingers at us. ‘I guess I’ll be off. Bye, kids!’ She manoeuvres her belly around a group of women at the front counter.
I slide in opposite Mac, adrenaline wrestling with my weary limbs. ‘Hi.’
He looks flustered; he’s buttoned his shirt wrong and the collar is lopsided. I’m making him crazy. I stare into his familiar eyes, trace his full lips with my gaze and let the sounds around me blur into a steady buzz while I simply focus on breathing in and out.
‘I know I need to stop showing up like this,’ he says, ‘but I’m finding it hard to stay away from you.’
Tears fill my eyes. ‘I don’t think anyone has ever shown up like this for me before.’
‘Gemma?’
Mac takes my hand. After a few seconds, I grip his back.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Let’s talk.’