Vince was getting good with the crutches and had no trouble navigating his way to Terry’s office.
A few heads rose from their work as he passed and there were murmurs of ‘Hey Vince’ and ‘Good to see you.’ Big difference from the day he’d burst into the office a few weeks ago.
Terry got to his feet and pulled out a chair for Vince. ‘Coffee?’
‘First someone tries to shoot me, now you offer me poison?’
‘Fair call.’ Terry laughed and returned to his seat ‘Heard you and Melanie are staying with your neighbour.’
‘Yeah. Just for a bit while I work out the insurance and crap for the cottage. We could go to Susie’s house but the steps will defeat me until I’m off these. No idea yet whether I use this as a chance to move, you know, closer to Melanie’s old life.’
‘What does Melanie say?’
‘She has drawn me a series of pictures of what our new cottage should be like once we build it.’
‘I see.’
Liz stuck her head in. ‘Well, look at you!’
‘Join us, Liz.’ Terry nodded to another chair. ‘Do you want to update Vince on our investigation?’
‘Love to. We’ve established that Farrelly was responsible for the deaths of Ginny and of Marco. Roscoe has been helpful, once he knew his career was gone and his only chance of avoiding a long jail term was co-operation. Farrelly bullied Roscoe from the time he moved into the Roscoe home at fifteen, to the point of getting him to do his own dirty work. He tracked Roscoe down a few years ago and began a long-term plan to build his wealth.’
‘Using PickerPak to move criminals?’ Vince asked.
‘That was the latest thing. Pickering still won’t admit to much, but we’ve pieced together—thanks to what you also provided—that David got wind of this new direction and when he tried to sell his share, was threatened by Farrelly to the point where he feared for his family.’
If only I’d been there for him.
‘He was trying to get out without drawing attention to his plans. When it came down to signing that freight contract he dug his heels in.’ Liz shook her head. ‘I guess Farrelly saw him as an obstacle.’
‘Do you have evidence Farrelly drove the van. Or was it Pickering?’ Gut churning, Vince’s hands curled into fists. ‘Easy to lie now with Farrelly dead.’
Liz reached across, dropping her hand over one of his for a moment.
‘It was Farrelly. Forensic evidence puts him at the scene of the accident thanks to his filthy habit of tossing half-smoked cigarettes away. Pickering knew but I can’t prove it yet.’
The churning stopped. It was over. Truly over.
‘Carla?’
Terry grinned. ‘She can’t stop talking. She’s gutted by his actions, and she had access to all of Pickering’s accounts and hidden data, just didn’t know it existed but the moron only used one password which she guessed.’
‘She won’t be charged with anything,’ Liz said. ‘I believe she is innocent of any part of Pickering’s activities, and she blames herself for the crash. We don’t know where Pickering kept disappearing off to, but we’ll find out. But Vince? She wants to see you. To ask if Melanie can still be in her life.’
‘That’s for Melanie to decide. Later. Once the dust settles. Melanie has a lot more to deal with now and all I can say is thank goodness for Doctor Raju.’ He straightened the crutches. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have a dinner date with my grandchild.’
‘Can you find that grandchild of yours and let her know dinner is almost ready?’ Lyndall called from the kitchen. Whatever she had cooking in there had Vince’s stomach rumbling. He rubbed his gut. Too many more of Lyndall’s meals, not to mention the treats she and Melanie made, and he’d need to take up running.
Once this leg works again.
Last seen, Melanie was on the back deck, playing with Robbie in the late afternoon sun. But neither of them were here and she hadn’t come past him inside.
He carefully went down the few steps to the garden. She loved the expansive vegetable garden near the paddocks but wasn’t in there either.
‘Mel?’
Where else would she be? His heart thudded as he headed back toward the house, veering onto the path to go faster with the crutches. It wasn’t like her to go any distance from the house without him or Lyndall.
There wasn’t a lot of light left.
I need to get Lyndall and some torches.
A welcoming whinny from Apple came from the nearest paddock.
There was no chance she was greeting Melanie, who still refused to get within metres of her. Unless Robbie had run down there. He moved onto the grass and made his way past the garden beds, struggling with the crutches on the soft ground.
He was ready to call out again but then he saw Apple at the fence, and he stopped.
Melanie was only a couple of feet from the fence, Robbie perched on her plastered arm, peeking out from the sling. Typically friendly, Apple shoved her head over the gate, lips flapping as she investigated, but Melanie was just out of reach.
Apple’s head went up and down a few times and then she settled, dropping her neck a bit to lower her head. Melanie extended her hand… and stroked Apple’s forelock.
‘Oooh…’ Vince covered his mouth as the hairs on his arms stood up.
With a happy nicker, Apple pushed against the fence to give herself more of a chance to reach Melanie’s pant pockets.
Mel giggled. ‘No, I don’t have any treats.’
I’m not going to cry. I’m not.
Everything got blurry when Melanie lifted the kitten up to show Apple. Robbie batted the pony’s muzzle and Apple snorted, giving Melanie a fit of giggles.
Vince lifted his face to the sky and mouthed ‘thank you.’
The washing up was done. Melanie had collected her new art book and pencils and with Robbie close by, sat at her favourite spot in the kitchen
Lyndall poured two glasses of whiskey and joined Vince in the living room, which let him keep half an eye on Melanie but from a more comfortable seat. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘And for another lovely dinner.’
‘My pleasure. I like the company. Didn’t think I would after so long.’ Lyndall took a small sip from her glass, her eyes on Melanie. ‘She breathes new life into me.’
‘And me.’
‘Sure does.’ Now, Lyndall was watching him with a small smile. ‘Get the feeling some of the burden is gone. Never understood why you carried all that blame but we all have our baggage.’
Melanie giggled at something she’d drawn, showing it to the kitten before turning to a fresh page.
‘I have no way to repay what you did for her. Keeping her safe that night.’ Vince looked at Lyndall. ‘And saving my life.’
‘She was easy to protect. Perfect excuse to try out that room I had built. You? Thought I was too late. But we got there in the end.’ Lyndall’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you want to ask? I can see it on your face. Is it my world-class shooting or my panic room?’
‘Both. We’ve lived side by side for decades but I have to wonder if you are a retired assassin or the like.’
She laughed shortly. ‘Nothing so exciting. I’ll tell you the whole story one day but for now, let’s just say I understand about evil people with agendas. I know what losing your loved ones is like and having to leave your real life behind.’
Vince followed her gaze to one of the original paintings on the wall. He’d known she was talented and remembered Melanie talking about Lyndall being a famous artist. Did Marion know her story? There was so much he suddenly wanted to ask.
But her expression said otherwise, and she held the glass tightly.
He wouldn’t press her for answers.
‘Can we visit Mummy and Daddy soon, please?’ Melanie plonked herself onto the seat beside Lyndall, who dropped an arm over the little girl’s shoulders.
‘Let me get this leg sorted—’
‘No need to wait,’ Lyndall said. ‘Happy to drive you both. Wouldn’t mind visiting the place myself.’
Brilliant sunshine warmed Vince’s face and for the first time in so long, he felt really alive. It was odd to be here, at his daughter’s grave, and have hope in his heart. But she’d have been happy for him. Proud of him.
Melanie was chatting away to the headstone, telling Susie about Robbie and how much she liked her bedroom in Lyndall’s house where she could see the donkeys and Apple in their paddocks. Then she talked about her new school, where she’d just started the term.
‘I miss my old school, Mummy, but I’ve already made two friends who live just up the road from Grandad’s. And they have bikes, so I need to learn to ride but Grandad says your old bike is a bit rusty so I’m getting a bike soon as well…’ She glanced up at Vince with a wide smile. ‘May I get one?’
‘You have a birthday soon, so let’s put one on your wish list.’
She gave a small squeal and then went back to her conversation.
He laid flowers on Susie’s grave and then more on David’s. He touched David’s headstone. ‘They’ve been stopped. I’m just sorry it took so long.’
After a while he and Melanie wandered further to another, much older grave.
‘Oh, hi Grandma!’
‘Mel?’
‘Mummy and I came here all the time to talk to Grandma. I’ll be right back.’ She dashed off in the direction they’d come from.
‘Of course you both did.’ He didn’t know what to say to Marion’s resting place. She’d never left his heart in all these years but now he’d let go of the guilt. In its place was a calmness which brought colour back into his life. That and Melanie.
‘Here we go!’
She returned with one of the lilies from Susie’s grave and ever so gently rested it near the headstone. She whispered something then came and took Vince’s hand.
‘Thank you, sweetie. For the flower.’
‘Mummy doesn’t mind sharing. And I told Grandma that I’m going to take care of you because you take such good care of me.’
‘We’ll take care of each other, Melly-belly. Always.’
You’ve taught me how to breathe again, little one. I will live up to your trust and love every single day.
They’d lost so much.
In the distance, Lyndall straightened after placing flowers on a grave.
She’d once told him she didn’t go to funerals yet here she was. Perhaps Melanie had given her hope as well.
‘Come on, Grandad. I think Lyndall is ready to go home. And Robbie will be happy to see us. Even Apple. Maybe. And I want to draw some more because I’m going to be a famous artist one day.’
‘You can be anything you choose.’
The smile Melanie gave him filled Vince’s heart with warmth. ‘So can you, Grandad. Grandma wants you to have joy in your life.’
As Lyndall approached, their eyes met. Each with their own deep-seated sorrow. And just possibly, a touch of new-found hope.
Next in the series is Lest Bridges Burn.
A little girl is missing. Is a serial kidnapper responsible?
Homicide Detective Sergeant Liz Moorland has seen this before. Another child, ten years ago. Same colour hair and eyes. Same sweet smile. And the same park. They never found her.
Liz has a connection to both disappearances and is convinced they are linked. But if she's to find this child she has to keep her head. And with the chance of being removed from what is the most important case of her life, Liz can't make a mistake.
Even if it means risking her career. And her life.
