Fifty Fifty (Detective Harriet Blue #2)(63)

Joyous months passed. Sam and Regan would meet on the roadway down to the river. Firelight and smoke in the air, the heady scent of dope near the rock wall or on the grey sand. Circles of other kids laughing, whooping. Regan remembered sitting on the edge of the pier with his feet in the water and some nameless girl’s face in his crotch, smoothing back her hair as she bobbed up and down on him, looking over and meeting Sam’s eye as another girl worked on him. The stab of pleasure deep in his guts, making his legs twitch. They’d lain with the girls afterwards, whoever they were. The girls were easy to ignore. Regan closed his eyes and felt Sam’s elbow touching his, listened to the other boy’s breathing. It could have been just the two of them under the stars. He suddenly felt free.

And then, before he knew it, Child Services was there at the door in Picnic Point. His foster parents had decided to travel Italy and couldn’t bring him along. Another placement had been arranged. The couple told Child Services to handle telling Regan, because they were too emotional about it, and they knew he was an emotional boy, too.

They’d meant difficult. But they couldn’t possibly know that Regan was slowly graduating from difficult to dangerous.





Chapter 97


NOW, REGAN STEPPED silently down onto the toilet in Harriet Blue’s apartment and turned around, sliding the bathroom window closed behind him. The gentle click as the latch caught was the only sound in the apartment. He stood in the dark looking at the things on her vanity, feeling sick little zings of excitement at the sight of them. Comb. Pill packets. Creams.

He went into the short hallway and gazed at the gold light falling on the polished floorboards from the living room. This was a good apartment. A solid investment for someone who worked hard and spent little on their social life. Regan knew that the place had been sold, probably to fund Sam’s legal defence. In mere weeks, all of this would have to be packed up and shipped out. Regan was glad that he could see it as it was, Harry in her natural environment, the girl Sam had talked so much about.

There was no one home. He was sure of it. The lights must have been a tactic by Harriet to appear at home, something to drive away the press or curious gawkers who might try to take advantage and sneak in.

Regan had the distinct sense of her abandonment of the place as he walked into the study. He looked at the work of the Georges River Killer on the corkboard behind the desk. Pictures of his victims, both alive and as he’d left them, lolling dead on the grey sands like washed-up sea creatures. There were forensic reports here. Criminal profiles. Harry’s notes. Regan had seen some of these things already in the briefcase he stole from Edward Whittacker. They were close behind him. But it wasn’t over yet.

If only it had all gone the way he’d planned. It would have been so perfect. He’d come across Sam for the first time after leaving prison, and it was there that he’d got his idea. Sam had been standing at the edge of the hall outside a computer lab on the Sydney Uni campus, talking to one of his pretty little students, her long chocolate hair awash in sunlight. Regan had followed and watched and realised that Sam was surrounded by these gorgeous creatures. They waved at him from cafe tables and touched his arm as he went by, smiling, asking about some assignment or another. Sam was so happy. Regan could see it in his stride as he walked home, as he climbed the stairs to his neat, bright apartment. Wasn’t Sam just the perfect ‘fuck you’ to all those care workers and all those families shuffling him here and there, the raggedy, hollow-eyed urchin Regan knew so well playing tricks in the dark by the riverside. Bad boy. Difficult boy. Unwanted boy. Sam’s beautiful world was choreographed as joyously as the opening of a Broadway show. People swinging on lampposts, arms out, soaring voices.

Regan had entered Sam’s world like a dark cloud creeping, billowing up over the horizon. He’d wanted to stay longer. It had all been going too well.

He moved out of the study, back into the hall.

And heard a sound in the kitchen.





Chapter 98


I PICKED UP Kash. He’d stayed by our surveillance spot, lying on his belly at the edge of the ridge, watching the sun go down, sweeping the valley with his binoculars. He didn’t speak as he got in to the car. There was an icy feeling in the pit of my stomach, that he’d call me out for walking off instead of standing my ground and defending my brother. But my ability to stand my ground was waning. Two more days and the AVO would be lifted, and I could be by Sam’s side again.

‘We’ve got a problem,’ Kash said, breaking me out of my reverie.

‘What?’

‘Dez spread the word around town that people aren’t to congregate, that we want the pub closed and the main street clear. This seems to have had the opposite effect. People are angry. Defiant. There’s talk they’re going to gather tonight in the main street as a show of strength.’

‘ Oh, brilliant!’ I snapped. ‘What a fantastic idea! We’ve told them it’s dangerous to gather in groups, and what do they do? They decide to throw a party.’

‘They’re Australians,’ Kash sighed. ‘We told them to stay away from their local pub. We might as well have waved a red flag in front of a bull.’

There were already people in the main street as we drove through, standing outside shops, talking. Only twelve or thirteen in total, but more would come. There was a strange excitement in the air, the feel of Christmas or New Year’s Eve, of community. It didn’t seem to matter that someone wanted to kill them all. The mob was stronger than a single killer.