The Shadow House(65)

‘Yeah.’ Dom took another sip of tea. ‘There was definitely something going on. I have no idea what, but we went round there this one time for Gabe’s birthday – that was the last time we ever saw him, actually – and someone had thrown red paint all over the house. Place looked like an abattoir.’

‘And the cat?’

‘Someone killed her. Left the body in a box on the porch.’

‘A box?’

‘Swear to god. Mum still talks about it all the time. Like I said, I think it’s her way of trying to piece her fragmented memory together. To solve the mystery.’

‘Like Miss Marple.’

Dom smiled sadly. ‘Ah, that’s a nice way to think of it.’ He paused and put down his mug. ‘One thing I do know is that Gabe Kellerman was scared shitless. Of what, I don’t know, but I could see it in his eyes: that boy was terrified of something. Sometimes I think that maybe there was something going on in that house.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, look, I know I shouldn’t be casting aspersions, but the cops never looked too carefully at the family. I mean, Renee was a real nice lady, but her parents were batshit, and Mike had this mean streak …’ Dom stopped as if something was caught in his throat. He shook his head. ‘Sorry. I’ve got no proof, it’s just a feeling.’ Sighing, he rubbed an eye with his index finger. ‘Anyway, we’ll probably never know. I prefer to believe that Gabe’s still around somewhere. Maybe living it up in LA or chilling on a beach in Bali. You’d hope so, anyway.’

We both fell quiet. Over Dom’s shoulder, I caught movement in the orchard. A flap of pale green material between the trees and a flick of grey hair. The witch. I smiled ruefully and pointed. ‘I think Bess is up and about again.’

Dom turned around and followed my gaze. ‘Oh, Christ.’ He turned back and got to his feet. ‘Sorry, I’d better go. It was nice of you to drop by – I’d invite you to come and chat with Bess herself but I’m not sure what mood she’s in, and it might be better if …’

‘No, I totally understand, I have to go, too. The kids will be wondering where I am.’

‘Oh, you have kids? What age?’

‘Fourteen and eight months.’

‘Got your hands full then, hey?’

I smiled and shrugged. ‘They’re not so bad.’

‘I have two myself,’ he said. ‘Twin girls, twelve years old. They live with their mum but my world still revolves around them, you know?’

I nodded, the atmosphere inside the house suddenly making a lot more sense. I stood and passed him my empty mug. ‘Thanks for the tea.’

‘No, thank you.’ Dom smiled and offered his hand. ‘It was great to meet you, Alex. Really great.’

‘Lovely to meet you, too.’ I took his hand. ‘Sorry to have distracted you from your work.’

‘Don’t be,’ he said, maintaining eye contact for just a little longer than I would have considered normal. ‘Feel free to distract me any time.’

‘Oh,’ I said, a little caught off guard. ‘Okay. Maybe I will.’ Definitely single. I turned away before my face got any redder.





RENEE





29


The images came thick and fast. A precipice. A cliff’s edge and a sheer drop. A cave. A tiny pothole under tonnes of rock.

‘Eat.’ April stood over Renee with a plate of cheese and crackers. ‘Ren, please, you have to keep your strength up.’

Panic was a blindfold, a dirty bandage. A heart in a box buried deep in the ground.

‘Renee.’

Three days. Gabriel had been missing for three days and no one could find him. There were no clues, no note, no explanation. No fingerprints, no broken glass, no signs of forced entry. Just a cold breeze and an empty room. He’d vanished into thin, wintery air.

On the couch, Renee twitched, startled by movement outside the window. A flash of grey. She waited but saw nothing else.

‘Renee.’

Obediently, Renee reached out and took a cracker from the plate. She held it in her palm, then placed it in her mouth and chewed. It was dry and bland.

Outside, the sky was full of clouds, each one the colour of nothing. Inside, the same absence pervaded the house: all sound was muffled, all light was flat. Renee’s home smelled not as it should’ve done, of coffee and cooking and furniture polish, but of stagnant air and unwashed skin. The whole world had lost its flavour.

Something moved again, outside, that flash of grey on the veranda. Renee turned in her seat. There was someone out there. But then, people were everywhere. For hours, Police officers had wandered in and out of the house, taking notes, talking into radios, asking the same questions they’d asked the day before and the day before that. She’d watched their faces, their expressions of resignation, the shuffle of their feet and the slump of their shoulders. She’d watched them gather the information – the lock on the door, the open window, the doctor’s report, the prescription drugs, the depressed and anxious teen who had shut himself away in his room and hurt himself – and saw the verdict in their tired eyes. A runaway. A suicide.

She’d watched until she couldn’t watch any longer. And then she’d pulled her blanket up around her shoulders and stared blankly at the floor. Second by second, minute by minute, she let the day pass around her like a stream around a rock.