‘Yeah.’
‘Good. I was just reminding you that this is about as serious as it gets. Money can’t buy anyone out of murder. And you are already on our radar. Violent tendencies, anger issues. It doesn’t look very good, does it?’
He eyes me petulantly.
‘Right? Okay. So. Tell me about your relationship with Amelia Posen.’
He sits back, the air puffing out of him. ‘Amelia is my brother’s girlfriend.’
‘Oh yes, I know that.’ My voice drips with sarcasm.
‘Well, that’s it really.’
‘Try again,’ I say.
‘I don’t know what you want me to say.’
‘I want you to tell me where you were on the evening of Friday, 11 December.’
‘At the school play. I told you.’
‘Try again.’
He looks at me, his chin raised, and then reaches out to pick up the glass of water I placed in front of him. His Adam’s apple bobs maddeningly as he drinks every last drop before saying, ‘I was with Amelia.’
‘Where?’
‘At her parents’ house. She called me and said she wanted to see me. I told her I had tickets to the play. I hate all that live performance shit but I felt bad for being a dick to Rose at Dad’s birthday and wanted to make it up to her. I’d gone right off at her, but it wasn’t really her fault. Dad always spoiled her. He pretends to be such a hard-arse but really he’s a pushover, especially when it comes to her. Drives me mad. Anyway, I knew that Amelia had plans with Bryce so I was going to go along and find someone to come with me, but then Amelia said she would fake a migraine to get out of seeing Bryce. That if I came over she’d make it worth my while. So I ditched the play and did that instead.’
‘How often do you see her?’
‘Depends. She’s in town a fair bit. Alone, mostly. And it’s easier now I’m officially single.’
‘Nice.’
He shrugs.
‘Why did you lie about it?’
‘I couldn’t say where I’d really been—Bryce would have flipped. Though he’s ended up sus anyway. And I had bought the tickets to the play already. I figured it wouldn’t hurt anyone.’
‘You were fighting about Amelia the other morning?’
‘Yep,’ Timothy says chirpily. ‘He reckons he could tell something was going on.’
‘The best thing to do would have been to tell the truth.’
‘Well, Amelia has some decisions to make,’ he replies. ‘It’s not my truth to tell.’
His smug expression irks me though I’m hardly in a position to judge.
‘Yeah. I guess you’re just an innocent bystander in all this.’
‘Look, it’s not ideal, I know that. But their relationship is bullshit, I swear.’ He has the decency to look guilty.
‘Alright, alright.’ I make it clear that I’m not interested in debating his morals. ‘Can anyone apart from Amelia vouch for your latest alibi?’
He thinks for a moment. ‘I didn’t see anyone else but she ordered a fair bit of takeaway at about nine. Amelia went to the door though. And I paid for some, ah, digital entertainment a bit later. You should be able to see it on my corporate credit card.’
Chapter Seventy-two
Friday, 1 January, 9.04 pm
The house is silent and I immediately feel uneasy. Ever since Ben was taken I find myself uncharacteristically gravitating towards the chatter of people and the hum of machinery. Silence equals danger.
I walk into the spotless kitchen. Ben’s toys are stacked neatly in the corner. Our bedroom is clean too, and the globe above my dresser that blew in October is finally fixed. I race into Ben’s room and find him sleeping soundly, his lips making a soft whistling sound. I find Scott on the back patio, sitting on the end of the sun lounge drinking a beer and looking out past the back fence.
‘Hey,’ I say. The night air feels harsh between us, and a haze of self-consciousness wraps around me as if we have an audience. I will say the wrong thing: I already know this.
‘Hey.’ It’s as if he should be smoking. His simmering anger would suit the tangibility of a cigarette. ‘You’re late again,’ he says flatly.
‘Scott, I’m working a murder investigation.’
‘Yes. I know. Annoying that people keep dying, huh?’
‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You think I like this? Think I like trawling through photos of dead abused people? That I like mixing with the darkest form of human life?’
Scott laughs, an unfamiliar nastiness in the sound. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I think.’
‘Well.’ I stare past the fence too, wishing I could walk out the back gate and run. Keep running. Running until I have scratches all over my body and my chest explodes. Running past the point of being able to run any further.
‘Well what? You know I’m right, Gemma. And you know what? I’m done.’
He buries his face in his hands. It’s comical, a big teddy bear of a man with his head in his big hands, except that it’s not funny because he’s the father of my little boy and I don’t know what this means for our future.
‘What do you mean, done?’
‘I’m done with this. With us. It’s not good. You and me. It’s broken and I let you break it.’
I feel oddly vacant but find myself saying, ‘Scott, come on. You can’t just dump this on me. This Ryan case, it’s made me a bit crazy, I get that, but it will be over soon. One way or another. Maybe we can go away or something. Take Ben?’
He looks at me then and it’s as if he’s trying to see past me. I almost look behind me to see if there is someone there.
‘Gemma, you just don’t even see it, do you? You don’t see it. There’s always something. You’re never different. And it fucking sucks because I love you. But you don’t see that either. You’re busy trying to find what you need anywhere but here. Don’t you think I know that?’ He hunches over as if he’s about to cry but he’s empty. I’ve made him empty.
‘I love Ben,’ I say, because it is the only true thing I know.
‘Yes.’ He looks at me and only the two of us can know the feeling of loving that little boy. ‘I know you love Ben. It’s the best thing about you. I have to remind myself that you can love and Ben is the proof of that. But it’s not enough, Gemma. It’s not enough for me.’ He rolls the beer bottle between his hands. ‘I want more children. Maybe lots more. I want someone who wants to be with me. Someone who makes time for me. I want that person to be you.’ His eyes burn into mine and I lean back against the house. ‘But it can’t be you, can it?’
I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Breathe. Think.
Warm air washes over us. The hoot of an owl. Bugs smacking against the outside light. ‘I don’t know,’ I say finally.
‘Yeah.’ Scott kicks the deck as he stands up. ‘Well, the thing is, Gem, that just isn’t good enough for me anymore.’
Chapter Seventy-three