The faint noise of footsteps on the verandah broke through Finn’s concentration. He laid the gears on the bench and wiped the grease from his hands with a rag. For the first time he was making progress with disassembling and adapting Dragon Sentry, though his gut churned the whole time. Finding Bridget by the pool in the night had shocked him into action. He had to get them out of here.
The noise resolved into knocking. Never again, Finn thought, would he be oblivious to distant sounds. The slightest clank or thud sent him onto high alert, senses quivering.
He pushed open the door and stepped out, blinking in the afternoon sunlight reflected off the pool’s surface. Through the glare he could make out two figures on the verandah.
‘Hello?’ he called.
‘Finn Brennan?’
The voice was familiar, and as Finn started to walk around the pool one of the figures stepped towards the gate. A uniform. There was barely time for him to register the colour – blue – before a wave of fear engulfed his body. Was it Bridget, or Jarrah?
He broke into a run towards them, reached the gate and wrenched it open, yelled into her face: ‘For Christ’s sake, what is it?’
The woman held up both hands to stop him. ‘Nobody’s hurt.’
Finn’s heart was thundering and an awful weakness swept over him. For a moment he thought he might pass out. He pressed his hand to his chest to try and squash the pain there.
‘Do you need to sit down?’
He knew their faces. The female constable had driven him to the hospital and then to the school. The man had spent the afternoon of Toby’s death sitting in the shade in the pool area until the police tape was finally taken down.
‘Yes, I …’
He staggered inside and slumped on the couch. One of them got him a drink of water, and they sat silently for a few minutes until the hammering in his ears and chest subsided a little and he nodded.
The woman put her hand on his arm and Finn thought she was trying to comfort him with her firm grip, until she spoke.
‘Mr Brennan, you’re under arrest.’
A short, snorting laugh escaped Finn. ‘You’re joking.’
‘You are charged with manslaughter by criminal negligence. You do not have to say or do anything, but if you do, it may be used in evidence against you. It may harm your defence if you fail or refuse to mention something that you later seek to rely on in court. Do you understand?’
The urge to laugh vanished and his heart started up again.
‘We need to take you down to the station. Are you ready?’
She gestured towards the door and Finn stood, unresisting, unable to gather his thoughts.
Footsteps thudded up the wooden stairs outside. Jarrah burst into the room, slammed to a halt, looked frantically from Finn to the constable. ‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s all right, Jarrah.’ Finn tried to reach for him, but the constable stopped him from moving.
‘I’m sorry, but your father’s under arrest,’ the constable said.
‘For what?’ Jarrah demanded. When no one answered, he said it again. ‘Tell me!’
‘Manslaughter by criminal negligence.’
Jarrah blanched and his hand flew to his mouth. ‘Is it Mum?’
He was thinking the worst, just as Finn had. Worse than the worst, by the look of him. Finn wanted to reach out and grab him. ‘Jarrah, nothing’s happened. Don’t worry.’
‘Is Mum all right?’ His face worked.
The constable stepped forward. ‘This is a legal matter related to your brother’s death. Is there an adult who can stay here with you while we take your father to the station?’
Tom had come in behind Jarrah. ‘I’ll stay.’
‘We need to go, Mr Brennan.’ The male constable pulled gently but inexorably on his arm. Finn strained against his hold, twisting to look at Jarrah, who was sickly pale under the flush of exercise. He forced himself to be calm. ‘Call your mother,’ he said over his shoulder as they led him towards the door. ‘She’ll know what to do.’
In his own ears, his voice almost sounded normal. The cops flanked him down the stairs and out onto the grass.