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The wheelchair crunched across the broken glass as Logan pushed Wiri through the front door. A blast of cold air hit him full in the face. His family reacted from the other side of the road, arguing with the officer maintaining the cordon.
“That’s my son!” Hana’s voice rose in protest. Phoenix saved her energy, lifting the flapping tape and dipping beneath it. Her boot soles slapped against the wet road as she ran across the empty street. An echo followed her, bouncing off the shop windows and floating like a drumbeat. The officer’s voice rose in anger as he lost control of the milling pedestrians.
“Wiri!”
His vision blacked as she wrapped her arms around his head, engulfing him in warmth and a floral scent he didn’t recognise. Her hair hung around him like a curtain, filling his senses with motel shampoo and the promise of comfort.
“I’m so tired,” he whispered. “I bloody hate this town.”
Hana joined them, peppering his head in kisses. Her fist moved in his peripheral vision and he saw her dig Logan in the ribs. “Idiot!” she hissed. “But well done.”
With nowhere else to go, Wiri directed them towards Larry’s house. Phoenix clasped his uninjured right hand and kept time with the steady spin of the wheels. The pavement shone with the continued downpour and droplets coated Wiri’s eyelashes like glitter. Hana took over, pushing the wheelchair after Logan’s long legs banged the seat for the third time. They walked in silence, each consumed by their own thoughts. The rain intensified as they made the turn off the main street and Logan slipped off his leather jacket and laid it across Wiri’s knees.
Larry pulled his car up to the curb as they arrived at the vicarage. He reversed almost to the bumper of Wiri’s truck. A frown bisected his forehead as he clambered out onto the road. “You’re here already.” He jerked his head towards the intersection where traffic bunched in a rare gridlock. “I got turned around at the end of the main street.” He eyed Logan as though he might be a dangerous snake before addressing Wiri. “How’d it go?”
Logan snorted. “How do you think it went?”
Phoenix winced and shot Larry a glance containing sympathy. “Well, we found Vaughan’s missing gun,” she said. She squeezed Wiri’s fingers. “He’s freezing and wet. And Mama needs to see if there’s glass in his cuts. Please, may we come in?”
“Of course, of course.” Larry jogged up the front steps and took shelter beneath the porch. He jammed his key into the lock and the door swung open.
“What about the chair?” Hana pushed Wiri’s damp fringe back from his forehead with her palm. She lifted Logan’s jacket from his lap. “We could carry it up between us.”
“No. I’ll walk.” Wiri braced his forearms against the seat and pushed himself upright. A bolt of pain shot through his thigh and he collapsed back with a groan. The wheelchair rocked against the force.
“It won’t go through the front door, anyway.” Phoenix glanced up at her father, looking to him as always for solutions.
But before he could reply, Larry skipped back down the steps and dipped his torso. He slung Wiri over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, the movement fluid and practiced. Wiri had no time to protest about the indignity as Larry clasped the backs of his knees. He disappeared into the vicarage ass first, affording himself a second to observe the startled expression on the faces of the women.
Logan caught his eye, and something passed between them.
Something ethereal and beyond words.
Like a handing over of responsibility to another.
Regret, loss and hope bound up in that single expression.
Wiri closed his eyes against the weight of the moment. Larry carried him into the lounge and set him on the raggedy brown sofa with care. He heard shuffling from the hallway as the family removed their shoes.
“Oh, don’t worry about your feet!” Larry hurried away to stop them. “The old floors will mark your socks. Leave them on. Leave them on. It’s fine. I promise.”
Crockery clattered from another room as he sourced refreshments. Wiri closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the cushions. His body listed as another joined him. He opened one eye. “Hey,” he said, his voice a croak.
“Hey yourself.” Phoenix pursed her lips and frowned. “I thought she shot you.” Petulance entered her tone. “Why did you speak to her without me?”
Wiri blinked and pushed himself upright. His backside slid into a dip and his thigh bumped hers. She snorted and her anger fled. “Ouch!” Wiri pressed his fingers over the wound. A dark stain on his jeans showed where it had leaked from beneath the surgical bandage. He shook his head. “I swear I didn’t think it would go that way. Not for a second. I figured I’d tell her I knew she buried me in the tank and killed Hendricks. But it didn’t play out like that at all.”
“What happened?” Phoenix turned sideways and laid her palm over his hand. “Let Mama look at it. Don’t make it bleed even more.”
Wiri turned his wrist and their fingers knitted together, perfectly matched. He shifted their joined hands onto the sofa cushion. “She didn’t kill Hendricks.” He used his other hand to rub his eyes. “Nobody did. Dude died of natural causes. Who knew?”
“Wow!” Phoenix exclaimed. “Then why did she fire the gun?”
He exhaled. “Accident. Death wish. I’m not sure. Uncle Logan flattened her, so maybe just the force of him slamming into her. She’s built like a twig. But she also attacked Vaughan and much as Leilah adores her, their relationship can’t survive that.”
Phoenix wrinkled her nose. “So, that silly old man shot you because he wanted to protect her?”
“Yeah.” Wiri shook his head. “Love, greed, and revenge. It’s always one of those three. He loved her, but she didn’t love him in return.”
Crockery clattered against wood, accompanied by the hum of voices. Larry directed Hana towards a first aid box in the pantry. Wiri glanced at the door and estimated only another few seconds remained before the adults entered the room. “About that,” he began, his tone serious. He lowered his voice to a whisper. Thoughts of Ted and Mari flitted through Wiri’s mind. He’d held onto her, to both their detriments. He shared more with Seline, the bastard child twisted by resentment and misplaced loyalty. He swallowed, not wanting to suck Phoenix into the miasma of confusion which epitomised his existence.
So, he took a deep breath and released her with a litany of gentle platitudes. “We can’t keep doing this. We need to just be friends.” But as Phoenix’s protests grew, he turned up the heat until he didn’t recognise his own voice. “I don’t want this!” he hissed. “You should go.”
He’d wanted to release her but cringed at the hurt which blossomed like a heat rash across her neck. She jerked away from him as though he’d struck her, reeling back in horror. His fingers chilled as she snatched back her hand. Tears speckled her irises as she rose and stepped away from him, her head already shaking. “Still!” she bit, agony dripping from the single word. “And still, even after everything, you don’t see me.” She stumbled as her feet tripped against the worn rug, her body stiff and unyielding. Wiri watched her leave, wondering if deep down, she felt relieved.
