The Dry (Aaron Falk #1)(77)
His eyes flicked to the white bedpost, and he frowned. There was a tiny circular dent in the wood, and the paint there had cracked and flaked. The pink carpet below the post had been scrubbed in a small and imperfect circle and was now one, or at most two, shades darker than the rest. Barely noticeable, but there.
Deacon felt a cold spot form in his stomach, like a tiny ball bearing. He stared at the silent room and the dent and the spot as the alcohol carried the first threads of anger through his veins. His daughter was supposed to be there, and she wasn’t. He clutched the beer in his palm and waited for its cool, solid weight to calm him.
Later, he would tell the police that was the moment he knew something was seriously wrong.
Falk watched Ellie’s father closely.
“You might be able to claim your hands are clean when it comes to the Hadlers,” Falk said, “but you know something about what happened to your daughter.”
“You watch your mouth.” Deacon’s voice was quiet and tight, like a coiled spring.
“Is that why you were always so keen to pin Ellie’s death on me? If there’s no suspect to hand, people start looking for one. Who knows what they’d start to uncover if they looked too closely at you. Neglect? Abuse?”
The old man lunged at Falk with surprising force, taking him by surprise and knocking him flat to the ground. Deacon’s grubby hand mashed against his face. The dog circled, barking frantically.
“I will gut you!” Deacon was shouting now. “I hear you breathe one word like that, and I will gut you like an animal. I loved her. You hear me? I loved that girl.”
Luke Hadler’s heart was in his throat. He paused with one hand on the radio as the South Africans nearly took a wicket. Batsman restored and panic over, he switched it off.
He sprayed body mist liberally over his bare chest and flung open his wardrobe. Automatically he reached for the gray shirt she’d admired once. Luke checked his reflection in the mirror and flashed his teeth as he buttoned it. He liked what he saw, but he knew from experience that meant bugger all. It took a mind reader to know what was going through those girls’ heads half the time.
Today, for example. The image of Ellie pressing her hot, mean mouth on Aaron in the classroom popped into his head, and his reflection frowned. Was that the first time it had happened? Somehow he felt sure it wasn’t. Luke felt an intense flash of something like jealousy and gave his head a sharp shake. What did he care? He didn’t give a stuff. But Jesus, Ellie Deacon could be a little bitch sometimes. Ignoring him and then running off to Aaron. Not that it bothered him, but Christ, you only had to look at that picture to know there was something seriously wrong.
Deacon’s long fingers gouged painfully against the flesh of Falk’s cheek, and Falk grabbed his wrist, wrenching him off. He flipped Deacon onto his back and stood up, stepping away. It was over in a matter of seconds, but both men were panting, the adrenaline kicking into overdrive. Deacon stared up at him, the corners of his mouth white with spit.
Falk leaned over him, ignoring the dog as it bared its teeth. He stood over an ill man lying on the ground. Later he would hate himself for it. At that moment he didn’t care.
Aaron’s arms were aching under the box of plants by the time he got home, but the grin was still fixed on his face. His good mood was tempered only by a pang of mild regret. Maybe he should have followed Ellie out of the classroom. That’s what Luke would have done, he thought. Kept the conversation flowing, convinced her she did want that Coke after all.
He frowned and dumped the box on the porch. Ellie had definitely smiled at Luke as she left the room. They were barely speaking these days, but she still managed a smile for him?
Aaron had braced himself for a smirk and a cheeky comment from his friend after Ellie left, but Luke had merely raised his eyebrows.
“Careful with that one,” was all he’d said.
Aaron had suggested they head to the main street, hang around for a while, but Luke had shaken his head. “Sorry, mate, got somewhere to be.”
Ellie had said she was busy too. Doing what? Aaron wondered. If she was working, she would have said, wouldn’t she? He forced himself not to wonder too hard what both his friends were doing without him.
Instead, for something to do, he fetched his fishing poles. He’d head to the river. Upstream, where the fish had been biting. Or, he thought suddenly, he could go to the rock tree, just in case Ellie was there. He debated. If she’d wanted to see him, she would have said. But she was so difficult to read. Maybe if they spent a bit more time together one-on-one, she’d realize he would be good for her. If he couldn’t even make her see that, something was seriously wrong.
“You think I killed your daughter that day?” Falk said, looking down at Deacon. “You think I held her body underwater until she drowned, then lied to everyone, to my own dad, all these years?”
“I don’t know what happened that day.”
“I think you do.”
“I loved her.”
“Since when,” Falk said, “has that ever stopped anybody from hurting someone?”
“Give me a bloody clue, then. On a scale of one to jail, how much shit have you stirred up?”
Raco was shouting down the phone. Falk realized he’d never really heard him angry before.
“None. Look, it’s fine. Leave it,” Falk said. He was sitting in the police car a kilometer down the road from Deacon’s place. He’d had eight missed calls on his phone from Raco.