Stepping up to Verity’s door, I raised my fist to knock on it.
What was I going to say? Blurt out everything about the knife and the rope and the crazy story about Evie being seen flying to Greece?
Evie was her daughter. She deserved to know. She’d asked what the police had to tell me, and I’d told her that they’d found another couple of items but nothing significant. In truth, the items were significant enough to send me to jail.
But Verity was Verity. She’d think I was nuts, and she’d call the police.
I descended the stairs. And then began wearing a hole in the floor, walking from the kitchen to the living room and back again, trying to figure out who I could borrow money from. Almost no one I could think of would have a spare few thousand to lend me. Everyone was poor, like Evie and me.
I spied a set of elephant-shaped ceramic jars Verity had put out on a high bookcase shelf in the sunroom. She hadn’t finished shifting her things to the upstairs bedroom yet. Verity loved elephants—Evie had told me that. I could guess why. Because like elephants, Verity never forgot a single damned thing.
Wait, jars—didn’t Evie once say that her mother kept money that she earned for cash jobs in a jar? Verity did extra bookkeeping work on the side that she never declared in her tax. She called it her retirement fund.
Walking into the sunroom, I picked up each jar in turn and opened the lid. Only the largest of them had anything in it. Stuffed with old phone and electricity bills. For an accountant, that didn’t seem very efficient. I was about to put the jar back when I decided to fish the bills out instead. The bills were hiding wads of money underneath.
Swallowing hard, I pulled the money out of its tight hiding hole. Around five or six thousand.
If I took this, there was no going back.
This was stealing.
The doubts returned.
What if Constance’s private investigator was wrong? What if it hadn’t been Evie boarding a plane to Greece and she was lying dead in that forest, after all? Maybe this was what those people wanted—me running away and looking as guilty as sin.
I didn’t know anything about what was really going on here. Except, if I was locked up in a jail cell, I’d never get the chance to find out.
I dashed off a message on a piece of notepaper: Verity, I’m sorry. I can’t explain right now, but I’ll be back in a few days. Please look after Willow and Lilly. Tell them Daddy loves them.
Gray
Briefly heading back upstairs, I grabbed my passport and a few clothes and things, stopping only to look in the room where Willow and Lilly slept together. They were cuddled together like koalas. I left the note on my bed.
I rolled the car down the driveway and down the road a short distance, hoping not to wake Verity. She slept pretty heavily. I worried that Verity wouldn’t wake up for Lilly during the night if Lilly had a night terror or came down without yet another bug. But Willow was right next to her. Willow would surely go and bang on Verity’s door until she woke.
Masses of people milled through Sydney International Airport.
I kept a baseball cap on my head as I bought a ticket. I guessed I didn’t need to do that—it wasn’t as though the police were looking for me—but it felt better. I bought a seat on the flight that was going to get me to Europe the quickest. The flight chewed through an enormous chunk of Verity’s money. Almost two thousand dollars.
I had less than half an hour before the gate would close. I made my way to the departure lounge and joined the queue. My hand was slick with sweat on the handle of my suitcase, heat making my skull prickle. I was going to bring attention to myself if I couldn’t get control.
The line moved so slowly.
Shuffle and wait. Shuffle and wait.
I wanted to be in the plane and out of here. I looked behind, half expecting police to be rushing up to me. I had to stop that. Stay cool. I wasn’t under arrest—yet.
Hell. Hell, hell, hell, hell. Security coming my way.
A man and woman.
“Sir, can you come this way, please?” the woman said to me.
“Sure.” I forced a smile that was probably a big mistake. The smile was sure to look fake and nervous.
They took me aside and ran their handheld scanners over me.
“Can we check your baggage, sir?” asked the man.
“Yes. Go for it,” I replied quickly.
He rummaged through my things, stopping briefly to ask me if I had anything to declare.
“No. Is there a problem?”
“Just routine,” the woman told me. “A random check.”
I relaxed. It wasn’t me they were interested in but what I might be carrying with me. My fault for sweating wild panic back when I was standing on the line and making them suspicious.