The slow beep of the machine counts down the seconds of silence.
‘Your cancer,’ I venture, wanting to say something.
‘Yes. Apparently I’ve got days if I’m lucky.’
‘I thought the operation was successful?’
‘Apparently not. Or it was but now something else is wrong.’
‘I’m very sorry to hear that, sir.’
‘Yes. Well. I had hoped to know what happened to my daughter first.’
‘We’re making good progress on your daughter’s case, but we are still working through several scenarios,’ Jonesy says evenly.
George shifts uncomfortably and fixes his gaze on me.
‘Mr Ryan, you wanted to tell us something?’ I ask.
‘Yes. I did.’ He sighs heavily. ‘My daughter, Rose, she wasn’t like other people. I know every parent thinks their child is special, but I really think she was unique.’
I try to block out the fact that Rose probably wasn’t his biological daughter and just listen.
‘We had a good relationship, but I did feel differently about her than my sons. Maybe because she was a girl or maybe it was her personality. I’m afraid she took after my wife, Olivia. She could be quite manipulative. It was hard to connect with her sometimes, especially when she was a teenager.’
‘I think that’s very common.’
George looks at Jonesy. ‘Yes, I know. But Rose was different. It was like she had a fire burning inside her. I can’t really explain it. There was always some kind of trouble. That boyfriend from school, some issue with a teacher at university, then that business with the student at the school she taught at in Sydney. And even with her brothers, there was always lying and … odd behaviour. Inappropriate things. She wanted their attention and I wasn’t comfortable with it. I bought her that place because I thought it was best that she lived away from them—especially the two younger ones, who were still at home. And then she ended up changing her mind and leaving Smithson almost straight after school anyway.’
He laughs, as if dismissing the strangeness of the world, and shifts in his bed before giving up on finding a new position. The veins on his temples pulse softly. ‘Anyway, I guess it doesn’t matter now.’
‘How did your sons feel about Rosalind?’
‘I don’t know, but they didn’t really stay in touch with her after she left. Only Marcus did. He was always very good, calling Rose and making sure we saw her at Christmas. I kept in touch with her as well, but it was hard.’
‘Mr Ryan, you said that the last time you saw your daughter was at your birthday in October. Is that true?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was it unusual for the family to be together like that? Sounds like Rosalind didn’t go out of her way to see her brothers.’
‘It was quite unusual. I knew it would be a tense night, but I’d asked them all to come because of my health. I figured it was likely to be my last birthday. I spoke to them about my finances and my plans. I think they were surprised at how much was going to be left to charity. And then Timothy made a big point of Rosalind not being entitled to as much of my estate because I’d already purchased the cottage for her. Of course, he didn’t acknowledge that I’d also paid for him to go overseas and contributed to various things for him and his brothers. He was not in the mood to listen. I made it clear that I wasn’t happy with his attitude.’
‘Did he threaten her?’ Jonesy asks.
‘Not physically, but he was very angry. Calling her names and accusing her of manipulating everyone. Marcus and I calmed him down. I knew he had a temper but I’d not really seen that side of him before. That’s why I was so surprised when he told me he went to see her play, but he said he did it to make amends.’
‘Do you believe him?’ I ask.
‘I did. But then …’ He shifts his weight again and winces. ‘Well, the boys all came in to see me last night to wish me a happy new year. Amelia, Bryce’s girlfriend, came too. We had some food here in the room and then I dozed off. I’ve been sleeping a lot since I’ve been in here, from the drugs. I woke up at about eight-thirty. The door to my room was open but the lights were off. At first I thought I was alone, but then I realised that Timothy was still here with Amelia. They were standing near the door, talking. I don’t know where Bryce was. They didn’t notice I’d woken up and they were talking about the police interviews. Timothy said something about it all being fine. He told Amelia that she didn’t need to worry. I kept my eyes closed so they would think I was still asleep, but then there was no sound so I presumed they’d gone. When I opened my eyes they were kissing.’
Chapter Seventy
then
My hands were clammy and it didn’t seem to matter how many times I wiped them. After I left Jacob’s I rode around for a while, steering my bike in giant loops along the old dirt track in the reserve at the back of my house. The sun was only just stirring and I wondered over and over whether he’d read the note yet.
I couldn’t sit still so I headed to Ronson Shopping Centre and watched some kids skateboard through the outdoor food court. Pigeons looked on indignantly from the roof. I’d arranged to meet Fox here later. He wanted to go to the movies and I figured it would be better to do something to take my mind off Jacob. Plus, going to the movies was good, not quite an alibi but a normal teenage thing to do. It wouldn’t arouse any suspicion.
The Ryan phone number was on a piece of notebook paper in my pocket. I told myself I’d make the call at 8.30 am. I doubted that Jacob would go to her house earlier than that on a weekend. I didn’t know exactly how these things worked; I only remembered that when there was a bomb threat at the school we were all evacuated. I figured that the Ryans would be taken out of their house and wouldn’t be able to see anyone for the rest of the day. Maybe longer. I thought that George Ryan might even suspect that Jacob had something to do with it and forbid Rosalind from seeing him. That was if Jacob even wanted to see her after reading the letter.
I wandered into the shopping centre and bought a muffin from the bakery. I ate less than a quarter of it before I threw it in the bin.
It was almost time.
I headed to the payphone that was tucked behind the walkway, out of sight.
I picked up the phone, dropped the coins in the slot and dialled the number.
‘Hello,’ a man’s deep voice answered, and my knees almost gave way, but I made a fist in front of my mouth and said in the deepest, grainiest voice I could summon, ‘There’s a bomb. In your house. You need to get out now.’
Chapter Seventy-one
Friday, 1 January, 1.02 pm
I haul a hungover Timothy Ryan in for questioning and do laps around him in the interview room. I have no idea whether what George Ryan told us is relevant or not, but I saw the fear in his eyes, sparked by the possibility that Timothy had crossed the darkest of lines, and his gut feeling was enough to make me give it another shot with his son.
‘Timothy, you know this is a murder investigation.’