Fifty Fifty (Detective Harriet Blue #2)(43)

‘Uh-huh.’

‘ When do you sleep?’

‘Sleep is for losers.’

‘True.’

The Taby parents had been mortified first that their son had escaped lockdown at their house, then that he’d been chased like a dog by people from the town. They had been happy to turn him over to us.

‘If my typing is keeping you awake, you’re welcome to move your mattress away from mine,’ I told the boy. ‘No one invited you to sleep this close to me. Frankly, it’s weird.’

‘No way, man,’ the boy said. ‘I’m stickin’ next to you. You’re my guard dog now. You whooped some freakin’ arse out there. I’m not leaving your side for nothin’.’

I didn’t know whether to feel flattered or annoyed by my description as a ‘guard dog’. It had a certain truth to it. I’d have liked to be a guard dog. Unthinking, unquestioning, a loyal hound who followed someone I loved at all hours of the day, searching for threats and receiving treats in return for my service. It seemed a blessedly uncomplicated life.

I heard a grunting, snuffling sound, and Jerry the pig appeared in the doorway to the living room. The huge animal tested the air with its snout a few times as Zac and I watched. Then it lumbered with effort down the single stair onto the porch and took up residence by the teenager’s side, crashing to the ground, a mountain of hairy flesh falling. It seemed the coolest place to sleep that night was by my side.

‘How much did you say all that gold was worth?’ Zac asked, his chin resting on his hands on the pillow. The boy had found the rocks on Snale’s kitchen table and marvelled at our explanation for them, his mouth hanging open and eyes wide. He’d watched us stash them away behind a handful of books in Snale’s living room cabinets.

‘About eighty thousand bucks, I think.’

‘We could just, like … take it.’ His voice was low, conspiratorial.

‘What?’

‘Why not?’ He rolled onto his side. ‘You and me. We could split it. Get the fuck outta this lame-ass town.’

I laughed aloud. ‘That’s a nice fantasy you’ve got there, but forty thousand dollars isn’t a lot of … money.’ My words faltered. I was wrong. To some people, it was a lot of money. It was enough for my mother to sell out her only son to the press. To endanger his life, possibly contribute to his eternal damnation, at least in the eyes of the public. It wasn’t the kind of money you could run away forever on, though. Or was it? What kind of plans did this young man have? How far was far enough from his miserable life in this loveless town?

‘If we stayed together, though, it’d be eighty,’ he mused, a smile playing about his lips.

‘Oh, right,’ I smirked. ‘I see. You and me, a dusty old convertible, running away across the country together. Staying in dodgy hotels, escaping our problems in each other’s arms.’

‘Hell yes!’

‘Please,’ I sighed. ‘I’m old enough to be your mother.’

‘Isn’t that kind of hot, though?’

I slid a leg out from under the blanket and kicked him in the side.

‘Shut up, idiot boy.’





Chapter 60


THE BOY FELL asleep quickly, undisturbed by the pig’s snores. I lay on my side in the dark, eyes open, staring at the wall. Soon enough, I sighed and picked up my phone, sent a text.

If you refuse the magazine interview, I’ll pay you fifty thousand, I wrote. I can’t let you sabotage Sam’s defence.

I waited. In time, the phone vibrated in my hands and the screen lit my face.

How soon can you get it? my mother asked.

I’ll transfer it tomorrow, I wrote.

I’d prefer it in cash, she replied.

I’ll bet, I thought.





Chapter 61


I DIDN’T KNOW I had fallen asleep until the sound came, a wailing, blaring siren that rang in my skull. I shot up and shoved the laptop and phone aside, almost stumbled over the pig on the ground next to Zac’s empty mattress. Kash’s bare feet thudded on the polished boards of the living room as he rushed out from the front of the house in only boxer shorts, struggling with his glasses. Lights flickered on.

‘What is it?’

‘A car horn.’ He was actioning his pistol.

‘Where’s Zac?’

‘What’s happening?’ Snale ran out of the bedroom in pink pyjamas covered in smiling, dancing pigs.

I sprinted through the house and out the front door, my partners in tow.

Zac was sitting in the driver’s seat of Snale’s four-wheel drive, leaning on the horn, flashing the high beams. His huge eyes followed me, front teeth locked together.

‘What is it?’ I called. ‘What? What?’

I reached for the driver’s side door beside him but he screamed before I could pull the handle.

‘Don’t!’ he cried through the glass, hands flat, palms out, surrendered. ‘Don’t touch anything! Look! Look!’

He grabbed a sheet of paper from where it had been stuck with tape to the steering wheel. He pressed the paper against the glass.

The words were handwritten. They read ‘DON’T GET OUT.’





Chapter 62