Page 132 of Fire Fight

I throw it with all my might, watching it arc across the sky to drop out of sight over the cliff.

A piece of me my father is welcome to add to his grave.

“Now, where were we?”

Cadence laughs as they welcome me back into their embrace, and it’s the sweetest sound in the universe.

We’re still holding each other tight when the lights of a police car spill over the driveway, reflecting off every large pane of glass in the house.

Two uniformed officers following up on an escaped prisoner, visiting the likeliest place I would run.

CADENCE

Police swarm over the house, poking and prodding and prying, then taping everything off until they can return to poke and prod and pry some more. Mum and I are briefly allowed in our rooms to gather a few possessions, a uniformed officer watching as we pack our bags, checking each item before we’re cleared to leave.

I don’t care how they treat the house. What I care about is that my mother is alive. Drake is alive.

I’m alive.

The police have no respect for happy endings and arrest Drake while I yell, dissolving into large sobs that make communication impossible, clinging to him until they physically pull me away.

Before he goes, he whispers a code in my ear. A password to a cloud service.

Once my mother and I pass our medical check and we’re installed in the bland safety of a hotel room, I use my mum’s phone to check the website.

Hours of recordings from the home security system. My checks blush bright pink when I open one folder to find hours of me in my room, staring out the window, reading, thinking.

Falling soundly asleep while the boy across the hall climbs into her room through the window.

I back out of there, saving those little titbits for later. Already working out the swear words I’ll use to emphasise my point.

But I do what he needs. Copying across the hours of footage after Arnold and I arrived home. Ensuring the world can see Arnold’s depraved behaviour in case it ever asks.

Ensuring it survives any lingering loyalty from the policemen Drake believes Arnold had in his pocket.

The day has been a disaster. The night a torment.

But when I close my eyes, nightmares have never seemed further away.

The boy I love is in prison, now an orphan. My mother will probably take months to stabilise back to her adjusted meds.

There are aches and pains over every inch of my body, and it appears my boyfriend has a voyeuristic streak I never knew about, but all that falls away.

Because most of what I feel is hope.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Six monthslater

DRAKE

The light across the memorial gardens is fading as I sit on the grass next to my mother’s plaque, clearing the dried grass from around the edges as I provide her with a detailed update.

“The police can’t close the case, but they’ve returned it to the coroner. Our lawyer thinks the likely finding will be death by misadventure. Especially given the state of the path after the storm.”

Arnold’s face is there when I close my eyes.

I see him aim the shotgun, not caring that its barrel pointed at his own flesh and blood. Just wanting to dig himself out of a mess and not caring who he hurt.

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