Later, Shaun and his mother drove home in silence. It was night by then, and he was exhausted from the weight of the day. He had told the story of finding Tyson a thousand times. Once with Charlie. Then with Baker. Then with Charlie again, with Baker watching. Each time a dozen different questions, hoping to catch him in a lie. Then, horribly, he had sat opposite Megan, her mum and her dad, and told them everything. He added in the bloody head every time. It was too late now to say otherwise.

After the wrestle in the hallway, Shaun’s worst fears about Peter were confirmed. His red-hot grief had already threatened to tear apart the man with the moustache. Shaun was scared that the anger would be directed at him. Instead, once he had finished telling the story to the Grants, Peter turned on Charlie with a snarl.

‘So, that’s it,’ he snapped. ‘You just dropped it? You thought he was making it up?’

There was silence, then Baker spoke. ‘Mr Grant, you must understand, a teenager coming in and telling us tall tales is—’

Peter threw his hands up in disgust and swore at them.

Somewhere around then Shaun’s mum arrived. And then Tyson’s girlfriend, Millie, showed up and the evening felt deeper and darker.

Everything after that was a blur. There were still so many questions.

The crunch of the handbrake stirred him. They were home. His mum turned the car off, and they sat there, listening to the engine softly ticking as it cooled. She was searching for words to say.

‘Shaun,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry if I—’ Her voice broke. ‘I’m sorry if it seemed like I didn’t believe you or if I haven’t been there enough for you or – I don’t know.’

He reached out a hand and touched her arm. ‘It’s okay, Mum, it’s all good.’

Her voice was almost a whisper. ‘Did you really see Tyson in the water, Shaun? Are you sure?’

He nodded. ‘Yeah, Mum. I promise.’

‘Okay.’

She looked out the window into the dark garage. Then he spoke again. ‘I don’t have to go to a psychologist now, right?’

‘Yes.’ She laughed. ‘You do.’

‘But, why? It’s not like you’ve ever been to one.’

There was no answer to that. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘You need to get to bed.’

It had been a few months since he’d seen her cry and he’d been glad of the change. Prior to that he’d heard her every night, before he went to sleep. And sometimes in the kitchen, when she was waiting for the kettle to boil or the toast to pop up. She was sad and angry all over again now, and he felt like he had somehow caused it. Rather than make her proud, him finding the body had made his mum feel worse.

Within half an hour he was showered and in bed. But he couldn’t sleep. The Grant family cycled through his head. Peter. Elaine. Millie. And Megan.

At the exact moment he had told them, he saw something in them break. A small, fragile thing that he knew would never be fixed.

Shaun’s lie was becoming thornier. There hadn’t been a mark on Tyson’s head. The police officers were particularly interested in this detail, and Shaun had struggled to keep it sounding real. Baker and Charlie seemed unconvinced by the whole story, but the lie in the middle of it all didn’t help his case.

Besides, Megan herself had said that Peter was worried about Tyson, said he might have done something stupid. That he’d been unhappy.

If he had been, then what did that mean?

Tyson calmly takes off his boots and walks to the edge of the lake. He takes a breath and walks straight into the water, letting the cold engulf him. Tyson’s head disappears beneath the surface with no sound but a quiet gulp. He is under for long, patient minutes.

A short while later, Shaun comes running to the same place, unaware that his life is about to change. The stones in Tyson’s pockets work their way loose, and he is released. Like a magic trick, his heavy corpse floats to the surface of the water. And Shaun is there to witness it.

It all made sense. Except for the part where the body disappeared.

It couldn’t have been suicide. He didn’t want it to be suicide. Suicide meant Peter and Elaine and Megan and Millie were helpless. That they were somehow all victims of self-murder.

He slept in on Saturday. His mum had the day off, and she was firm about Shaun staying home and doing nothing. In the middle of the afternoon, he carried the CDs and player from the lounge room into his bedroom. He took out a few of his favourites and let them play loud enough that he couldn’t hear anything else. He tried to drown out the questions in his head.

By Sunday afternoon, he was restless, and Will was too. He sent Shaun a text. At boring family BBQ. But Sarah’s here. Going to talk to her about moustache man and that car. Want to come round?

Of course. Sarah. She would be able to tell them if the car had been hired by the same guy again, which would at least confirm one of the puzzle pieces. Shaun went out to his mum, who was trying to tame the backyard jungle. Everything was overgrown and messy since his dad left them.

‘Will’s invited me to a family barbecue,’ he said. ‘I’m going to go.’

His mum didn’t look up. Her hands were trying to find the root of a thick tangle of green. ‘Don’t you mean to say, “Darling Mother, may I please go out to see Will, pretty please?”’

Shaun felt his phone buzz again in his hand. Another message from Will.

My mum says your mum can come too if she wants.

‘DAMMIT,’ yelled his mum. Shaun looked up, surprised. She swiped at the disobedient bush. She was red in the face. ‘This stupid thing should never have been planted.’

‘Will’s mum has also invited you,’ said Shaun.

She sighed. ‘Okay,’ she said, wiping her forearm across her face. She went to shower.

Shaun’s dad had planted the jungle. He’d planted everything. He’d gone through a phase when they first bought the house and moved here from Brisbane. Every weekend, in between shifts, he’d gone to the tiny hardware store (it was an empty shop now) and bought whatever seeds he fancied. Then he tossed them into the backyard, not bothering to water them.

‘Whatever grows will grow,’ he said.

Stuff had grown. But it was mostly weeds and nuisance plants. There was an untidy cluster of cherry tomato plants in one corner, but they never felt right about eating them. Shaun had bitten into one once and it tasted like flour.

His mother appeared in the lounge room, freshly cleaned. ‘Let’s go,’ she said, taking the car keys.

She was in a mood, and it was weird. He would have to find Will and Sarah and ask about the car without his mum noticing. If she knew he was still investigating the murder, she’d flip out.

But his skin felt almost itchy with energy for the first time all weekend. Will’s connection to Sarah might prove to be worthwhile after all. He was moments away from finding out the identity of the man who had something to do with Tyson’s murder, he knew it in his gut. He could still be a hero to his mum and to Megan. He would make everything right again.