Blood Secret (23 page)

34

Rennie took a roundabout route home, scanning the few cars that passed, thinking about her father and wondering what the hell to do. She only knew how to run. Staying was new territory.

‘Pass me some food,' she
told Hayden.

He handed her half a sandwich and she chewed as she tried to pull thoughts together. If the caller asked for her address, he didn't know where she lived – at least he didn't ninety-odd minutes ago. But the question indicated more than that. If he'd been watching her in Haven Bay, following her home wouldn't have been difficult. Which meant he probably hadn't been here long, more than likely only a few days. Then how did Max get caught up
in it?

She'd worked Thursday, Friday and . . . Max had dropped into Skiffs for lunch on Saturday. She remembered now; there were markets at the park in the morning and everyone who visited the stalls seemed to want a coffee, too. She hadn't had time to stop and talk and Max had gone to the kitchen to see Pav. Had he even eaten? She couldn't recall him sitting at a table, only that she'd walked him out when he left. She'd kissed him goodbye on the footpath, a quick crush of lips before she hit the coffee machine again. Had her father been out there? Was that where he'd seen Max? Had he hung around hoping to find them again and struck it lucky when they turned up at
the party?

Rennie parked in the carport, anxious to get inside and feel the security of a gun in her hands, but a well-rehearsed caution slowed her up. She checked both sides of the house, glanced up and down the street from the porch, examined the base plate of the lock for tampering before she inserted the key and swung the door wide. It was cool and dim in the hallway, only silence coming from the rest of the house but she hesitated, years of suspicion and wariness telling her to take
it slow.

Hayden moved to walk around her and she stuck out an arm. ‘Wait,'
she murmured.

‘I need to go to the bathroom.'

‘Be a big boy and hold on.'

He folded his arms but didn't challenge the order.

Moving quietly into the hall, she tipped her head into the living room. It was empty but a sense of intrusion tickled at the hairs on her neck. She let her eyes roam around the room: bay window, sofas, kitchen, table, glass at the back. The only sign of disturbance was on the lounge, the scatter cushions tossed to one side, the foam upholstery askew. She couldn't remember what state they were in when they left and, not for the first time, she wished Hayden had picked another occasion to run away from his mother and throw himself at
the furniture.

She crossed the hall and as she stood in the bedroom doorway, fear scuttled up her spine. Both wardrobe doors were ajar. She wanted to charge across the room and grab the gun from the backpack but she kept the urge in check. She could be cornered over there. Or Hayden reached before she could get to him. She swung her head to him on the porch. If she took him with her, they could both be trapped in the bedroom before she could get her finger on the trigger.

Sweep the house first, she told herself. Slipping back to the front entry, she picked up the doorstopper – a large and rusted nut and bolt Max had found in a mine somewhere – and gripped it by its narrower end. Not a bullet but it would drop a man if she swung it well. Hayden lost the folded arms and stood a little
more anxiously.

‘What is it?'
he asked.

‘Stand inside the door and don't move,' she told him.

Blood hissed in her ears as she made her way quickly, noiselessly down the narrow corridor, listening as she went. She pushed Hayden's door until it touched the wall. It was empty but the room looked like it'd been ransacked – how much he'd done himself, she couldn't tell. The bathroom was clear. In the study, she ran her eyes over the cluttered space. Stuff had been shoved about: the mousepad, the keyboard, a pile of paper. The line of Post-Its along the shelf edge was broken in several places where notes had dropped to the tabletop. Two drawers in the filing cabinet were half open, the bottom one in the desk wasn't
quite shut.

Breathing hard, trying to contain the urgency building in her, Rennie went to the back windows, checked the door – locked – scanned the yard. Nothing moved, nothing looked out
of place.

But someone had been here.

It was her father. It had to be.

After he'd called the cafe. Sometime in the last two hours.

Rennie clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. The familiar hum of dread rose in volume but anger was louder. Fuck. Fuck him. He'd been in her house. Her
home
. His filthy hands had touched her belongings. Max's things. Their lives.

‘
Bastard
.'

‘Who?'

Hayden was at the far end of the room, not in the hallway where she'd told him to stay. There was no belligerence or cynicism from him now, just alarm and the vulnerability of an untried boy. Christ, he was a kid. He knew nothing about real danger
or survival.

She took off fast, almost jogging down the hall to the bedroom, reached the wardrobe in long strides, threw the doors wide and saw why they'd been ajar. Her pack wasn't pushed to the back where she'd left it. It was in front of the drawers, tipped on its side, obstructing the opening. Rennie snatched it up, the zip gaping open and the weight telling her the full story. She upended it on the bed anyway and pushed her hands through the tangle of contents. It was gone.

The gun was gone.

‘What?' Hayden had followed her as far as the bedroom door, hovering there as though he wasn't sure whether to come or go, the tight, higher pitch of his single word conveying some comprehension of
the moment.

Except he wouldn't understand what it meant and Rennie didn't want to. She wanted to stay here and find Max. But Hayden was Max's son – and he couldn't stay. Not with her father capable of walking through the door.

‘We need to leave,' she told him, returning the contents of her backpack with
angry thrusts.

‘Is that money?'

She picked up the plastic bag with the two thick rolls of cash and stuffed it into her pack. ‘Yes. Go do what you need to do in the bathroom, then get your bag and a warm top and long pants.'

He frowned, a little annoyance in it now. ‘What for?'

‘We're leaving.'

‘But we just got here.'

Slow it down, she told herself. He hasn't done this before, doesn't know how it works and panic won't help. ‘Someone's been in the house, Hayden. It's not safe for us here.'

He glanced down the hallway as if he expected to see a figure standing at the other end. ‘How do you know?'

‘He . . . they've been through the rooms.' She zipped
the pack.

‘Did they take anything?'

‘Yes.' She cast a brief look at the wardrobe – both sides had been searched. The papers on Max's shelf were scattered, the contents of the ashtray tipped out.

‘They didn't take that money,'
Hayden said.

‘No.' She closed the wardrobes and walked over
to him.

‘Are you going to call the cops?'

‘Later. We should get out first.'

Hayden stood in the doorway, not moving, not talking, just watching her like he was waiting for
something more.

‘Come on, Hayden.
Move
.' She pulled a breath as he left, memories flashing through her mind – of herself when she was younger than him, running for her bag, more scared of her mother's wrath than the father who was lying in wait. If they were going to escape him, Hayden needed to do what he was told and she needed to be patient with him. Skills neither of them was
proficient in.

She walked the length of the living room while she waited for him, wanting to check the studio, knowing there wasn't time. He was in the hallway again when she returned to the front entry, something determined in his eyes.

‘Where are we going?'

‘I haven't made that decision yet.'

‘What about Dad?'

It was a fair question. She didn't know how to answer it. ‘We can talk about it in the car.' She opened
the door.

‘
No.
' Hayden stood in the shaft of light that flooded into the corridor, arms folded
once more.

She wanted to shunt him through the door like her mother would have. ‘There isn't time to stand around and discuss it. We get out, then we talk.' She turned
to leave.

He wasn't finished. ‘So what if someone broke in? They've gone already and they didn't even take your money. Big deal. We can call the cops.'

The bright afternoon at her back made her feel exposed. She peered briefly around the empty neighbourhood then swung the door back to its lock. ‘It wasn't a robbery, Hayden. The person who did it was looking for some­thing. He might come back and we don't want to be here if he does.'

He watched her a second. ‘Who was it?'

‘Someone looking for me.'

She saw the deep breath of defiance as he pointed a finger in her face. ‘Then you go. I'm waiting for Dad.'

She batted it away, raising her voice. ‘Max isn't coming back here. Wherever he is, he's not going to wander up the front steps and let himself in. But the arsehole who was here might and you have no idea what that will bring.'

‘You can't make me go.'

She wished she didn't have to. She wished he'd toe the line for five goddamn minutes. ‘Cut the petulant kiddie bullshit, Hayden. You're fourteen. Time to grow up. Something's happened to your dad. He's not lost and he hasn't left. It's something else. Something bad. And we're in danger if we stay here.'

‘What would
you
know about danger? You're just a fucking waitress. You make fucking coffee for a living. What would you know about
anything
?'

Rennie had hoped to scare him. Standing here like this sure as hell scared
her
. She swung away from him, slammed the flat of her hand into the wall. ‘Jesus Christ, Hayden!' She pushed past him into the living room, stomped across the room, barking through clenched teeth. ‘This was never meant to happen here.' She picked up a cushion from the floor, threw it at the wall, cried out at the empty space in front of her. Fury and frustration and fear made her turn back to him, made words spill out of her as she marched
towards him.

‘Don't presume to
know
me. I am not a nice person. I've done bad things. But the man who was here is worse. He's
my
father and he's spent a long time wanting to hurt me. He'll hurt you, too. He might have already hurt Max. What I know, Hayden, will keep you alive. What I know . . .'

She stopped, realising she'd backed him into the hallway, that his eyes were wide, his mouth slack and that she'd said far more than she'd intended with a rage that shouldn't have been aimed at him. She rubbed a hand over her face and forced air into her lungs. Hayden watched her with something new and a little unnerved in his eyes.

 

 

35

‘I'm sorry, I . . .' Rennie started then realised there was nothing she wanted to explain. ‘Can we just get in the damn car?'

Hayden didn't say anything this time, just picked up his bag and waited as she pulled the front door. Squinting in the glare, she scanned left and right along the street then led the way to the carport, trying to contain the emotions that had surged to the surface. ‘Bag on the back seat,' she told him as she threw her own pack in.

She reversed out of the driveway, glad to have the dual cab's turbo engine underneath her, and drove before she knew where she was going, glancing towards the point but turning the other way, instinct taking her away from Haven Bay.

Hayden spoke for the first time when she pulled onto the highway. ‘Where are we going?'

‘North.' It was the only direction that made sense. With Hayden's mother in Cairns, Sydney was pointless. His grand­parents were up the coast in Yamba – it was a long way, at least eight hours' drive and it was already three-thirty in the afternoon, but she could put him on a train for part of the journey. Getting him far away from Haven Bay was what counted. Joanne was up north somewhere, too. Rennie wasn't sure where or whether she wanted to go there but it was an option. One
of them.

Making the turn onto the expressway, she worked the car into fifth gear and pushed the speed to a little over the limit. She kept her hands firm on the wheel, watching the traffic behind, the steady drone of the diesel engine and the beat from the radio becoming the background noise to the tense silence between them. Familiar and not, she thought. She'd left places with Jo a hundred times and it was always fraught with urgency and unfinished business. She'd never done it with anyone but her sister, let alone a dissenting kid who
hated her.

How had she got to this? What the hell had gone wrong? She'd just wanted a life for a while. Someone to love. Had she wanted too much? Not been good enough or generous enough or grateful enough? Or was it some kind of cosmic fucking joke to let her have it then snatch it away before her time was up?

To take Max and make him pay for
her
sins?

She wanted to shout and cuss and shake her fists. But Hayden had witnessed her fury once already. She tightened her fingers until they hurt, clenched her teeth until her jaw ached, told herself to pay attention and not crash the car and save her father the job of
killing them.

She heard Hayden through the ringing in her ears. ‘What?'

‘It's your phone.'

It took a second to hear it. The in-car system was trilling softly. Both phones were buried too deep in her backpack to hear which one it was. Max, please be Max. She hit the button on the dash. ‘Hello?'

‘Katrina?' Reception was bad; the voice difficult to hear. She wanted it to be Evan but she wasn'
t sure.

‘Yes?' she answered warily, keeping her eyes on the road as Hayden's head
shot around.

‘It's Evan.'

‘He found me. He's been in the house.'

There was silence over the speaker long enough to make her wonder if the connection had dropped out. ‘No, Kat. He's in a hospital.'

‘Where?'

‘Sydney.'

‘Then he got out and he came up here. He was in my house this afternoon.'

‘It wasn't him. He's sick.'

‘Bullshit. You know what he's like.'

‘I spoke to someone. They went to his room.'

She hesitated, blood pounding in her head. ‘Then they saw the wrong person.'

‘Katrina, listen to me. I spoke to his parole officer. He's not going anywhere. He's got a brain tumour. It's advanced. He's dying.'

The words felt like a slap across her face. Her arms went slack, her foot eased off the accelerator, her heart crashed against her ribs. Her father was
dying
? He would be gone from the face of the earth? He would never hunt her again?

‘Katrina? Are you there?'

‘Are you sure? Absolutely sure?'

‘Yes. It's over, Kat. For good this time.'

A tremor started in her gut, spread to her chest, thighs, arms, hands. A car sped by, its
horn blaring.

Evan's voice was loud with concern. ‘Where are you?'

In speeding traffic with a kid in the car and gorge rising in her throat. ‘I can't talk.' She hung up, tossed the phone, heard another angry blast as she swung off the expressway onto the narrow verge. Dirt scattered as she hit the brake. She had the door open before the car had finished rocking to
its stop.

‘Stay here,' she told Hayden and got out, the suck of wind tugging at her hair and clothes as a truck roared past. She lurched around the front of the car, heading for the guardrail, gripping it with both hands, staring into a steep, wooded drop as she gasped for breath. She waited for her stomach to empty itself but nothing came. Nothing but fat, hot tears that filled her eyes and fell like raindrops into the gully beneath her. It was over. Finished. It felt like skin had been torn
from her.

Over the noise of the traffic, she heard a crunch on the rubble, looked up and saw Hayden standing by the car. ‘I told you to stay put.'

He opened his mouth, closed it again, glanced uneasily at the traffic. ‘That guy's on the phone again.' He held up
the mobile.

She wasn't sure her legs would work. ‘Toss it here and keep an eye on the road.' She caught the mobile. ‘Evan, sorry. I had to pull off the road.'

‘Who's the boy?'

‘Max's son.'

‘You took him with you?'

‘Someone broke into the house. I thought he was in danger.'

‘Where are you now?'

‘On the expressway. It's not a good spot. I've got to go.'

‘Where are you going?'

‘I don't know.' She hung up and stared into the bush.

Someone had been in the house, found her gun and taken it – and it wasn't
her father.