jewellery. My boots sank into the plush carpet as I followed her down the hall and past a lounge room straight out of a magazine. Beige leather couches faced each other over a designer coffee table and adjacent was the biggest flat screen TV I’d ever seen. French doors overlooked the ocean and I glimpsed a glass cabinet in the corner, a shrine to Blaine full of trophies, ribbons and a framed photograph of him and Veronica at the Brownlow Medal ceremony. All that was missing was fruit and incense. And pictures of Tamara. I couldn’t see one.
She led me through a granite and stainless steel kitchen to a side door that opened in to a double garage. A white Lexus was parked on the far side and a folded-up treadmill leaned against the back wall. Spades, trowels and secateurs hung on a perforated backboard and eight cardboard cartons were stacked next to them.
‘I was going to put them into storage, but Emery said I should just throw them away. I wanted to go through them first, but…’
she trailed off.
‘I won’t be long.’
She looked at the boxes like she was going to say something, then wandered away.
The cartons were labelled: clothing, kitchen, bathroom. I found one marked ‘miscellaneous’, hefted it to the ground and ripped off the tape. The great god of private investigators was surely smiling down upon me because Tammy’s mobile phone and charger were right on top.
I’d just picked them up when a loud metallic clank made me jump. A mechanism set into the roof was lifting the rollerdoor.
A pair of polished brogues appeared, then the legs of a navy suit.
I shoved the phone and charger in my bag and prayed it was just a well dressed gardener. But I knew it was Emery Wade.
Chapter Fifteen
‘What the hell are you doing in my garage?’ Emery boomed and the words reverberated around the concrete space.
‘Searching for a phone number.’ My top lip trembled as I tried to keep my voice together. ‘Your wife let me in.’
‘Susan. Susan! Get in here.’
She came through from the kitchen, hands floating around the delicate gold chain on her neck.
‘Why did you let her in? What in god’s name were you thinking?’
‘She said it was alright with you.’
Emery almost smiled as he stepped towards me, pointing his index finger. ‘False pretences. Unlawful entry. Lying to a grieving mother. I’ll have you struck off.’
‘Can I just explain what’s—’
‘Step away from that box. Get your grubby hands off my daughter’s things. You won’t just lose your licence, I’ll have you arrested. Susan, call the police.’
She looked around as if the neighbours were watching. ‘Are you sure that’s necessary?’
‘Christ, I’ll do it myself.’ He pulled a tiny silver mobile from his jacket pocket and dialled triple 0.
My heart was pounding. This was really not a good time for me to be in jail.
I hung my head and looked resigned, and as soon as he was caught up reciting the address I made a run for it, bolting past him and out the garage. He lunged and grabbed my sleeve, but I didn’t slow down and it snapped out of his grasp like a giant rubber band.
His Audi was parked in the drive, the gate still open, and I sprinted straight through with Emery right behind. I ran for my car, but he was so close there was no time to unlock it and I veered off at the last minute, running toward St Kilda Street. I quickly out-paced him thanks to my relative youth and bi-weekly canalside jogs, and when I got to the main road I stopped and looked back, sucking in air and wiping sweat from my brow.
Emery began limping and stopped halfway down the street.
He was bent at the waist yelling into his mobile, one hand grasping his side.
I knew I shouldn’t have, but I lifted my arm, smiled and waved.
His laser-beam glare cut through me from a hundred metres.
I jogged up St Kilda Street, wondering how long the police would take and cursing my bright red jumper with no t-shirt underneath. Looking around for a
She led me through a granite and stainless steel kitchen to a side door that opened in to a double garage. A white Lexus was parked on the far side and a folded-up treadmill leaned against the back wall. Spades, trowels and secateurs hung on a perforated backboard and eight cardboard cartons were stacked next to them.
‘I was going to put them into storage, but Emery said I should just throw them away. I wanted to go through them first, but…’
she trailed off.
‘I won’t be long.’
She looked at the boxes like she was going to say something, then wandered away.
The cartons were labelled: clothing, kitchen, bathroom. I found one marked ‘miscellaneous’, hefted it to the ground and ripped off the tape. The great god of private investigators was surely smiling down upon me because Tammy’s mobile phone and charger were right on top.
I’d just picked them up when a loud metallic clank made me jump. A mechanism set into the roof was lifting the rollerdoor.
A pair of polished brogues appeared, then the legs of a navy suit.
I shoved the phone and charger in my bag and prayed it was just a well dressed gardener. But I knew it was Emery Wade.
Chapter Fifteen
‘What the hell are you doing in my garage?’ Emery boomed and the words reverberated around the concrete space.
‘Searching for a phone number.’ My top lip trembled as I tried to keep my voice together. ‘Your wife let me in.’
‘Susan. Susan! Get in here.’
She came through from the kitchen, hands floating around the delicate gold chain on her neck.
‘Why did you let her in? What in god’s name were you thinking?’
‘She said it was alright with you.’
Emery almost smiled as he stepped towards me, pointing his index finger. ‘False pretences. Unlawful entry. Lying to a grieving mother. I’ll have you struck off.’
‘Can I just explain what’s—’
‘Step away from that box. Get your grubby hands off my daughter’s things. You won’t just lose your licence, I’ll have you arrested. Susan, call the police.’
She looked around as if the neighbours were watching. ‘Are you sure that’s necessary?’
‘Christ, I’ll do it myself.’ He pulled a tiny silver mobile from his jacket pocket and dialled triple 0.
My heart was pounding. This was really not a good time for me to be in jail.
I hung my head and looked resigned, and as soon as he was caught up reciting the address I made a run for it, bolting past him and out the garage. He lunged and grabbed my sleeve, but I didn’t slow down and it snapped out of his grasp like a giant rubber band.
His Audi was parked in the drive, the gate still open, and I sprinted straight through with Emery right behind. I ran for my car, but he was so close there was no time to unlock it and I veered off at the last minute, running toward St Kilda Street. I quickly out-paced him thanks to my relative youth and bi-weekly canalside jogs, and when I got to the main road I stopped and looked back, sucking in air and wiping sweat from my brow.
Emery began limping and stopped halfway down the street.
He was bent at the waist yelling into his mobile, one hand grasping his side.
I knew I shouldn’t have, but I lifted my arm, smiled and waved.
His laser-beam glare cut through me from a hundred metres.
I jogged up St Kilda Street, wondering how long the police would take and cursing my bright red jumper with no t-shirt underneath. Looking around for a
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