Page 119 of Fire Fight

I’m already trembling so hard with anger the loss of my phone barely registers. I fight back hot tears of helplessness, hating that I can’t do anything when Drake’s in so much danger.

When Arnold pulls to a stop, I jump from the car, unable to stand his company.

“Mum!” I yell, storming inside. “Where are you?”

The front door opens, and she runs straight to me. “Are you okay? I’ve been calling, and you didn’t answer.”

I meet Arnold’s gaze and flub the truth. “My phone battery must’ve died. Are you okay?”

“The police were here!” She lets go of me, waving her arm towards the garage. “They took Drake’s car.”

“No, it’s at the garage being repaired, remember?”

Her expression crumbles into confusion. “Is it? But they…” She trails off, looking more unsure with each passing second.

“I got a message to say they’d returned it this morning,” Arnold gently explains. “What time did they come?”

“They…” Her frown becomes deeper. “No, it was still damaged. I saw the—”

“It’s the shock,” he says, taking her arm and turning her towards the house. “Of course, it was fixed. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have such a large bill on my credit card.”

When we’re inside, he gives her a long hug, then pats her behind, aiming her towards the bedroom.

“Why don’t you get changed and I’ll phone my lawyer to check in on what’s happening?”

“Get changed?” Mum’s face turns white.

“For the party.”

My mouth drops open. “You can’t seriously expect to go ahead with the party while your son’s rotting in prison.”

“It’s jail and nothing will happen tonight. Why wouldn’t we go ahead?”

My mother clutches the front of her sundress, twisting her hands in the bright flowery pattern, her face now so drained of blood the circles beneath her eyes look like smudges of charcoal.

“I cancelled it,” she whispers, flinching away from Arnold. “Everyone knows not to come.”

“You cancelled who?”

She shrinks further, shoulders hunched. “The caterers, servers, cleaners. I went through the guest list and those I couldn’t get hold of, I left messages.”

“But, honey…”

“I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“It is the right thing,” I state, firmly grabbing her hands and nodding. “You’ll still be engaged next week once this mess with Drake is sorted.” When the reassurance doesn’t calm her, I tug her hand. “Let’s go in the kitchen and make a cup of tea.”

“No.” Arnold glares at both of us. “You’ll phone everyone back and—”

“That won’t work.” I shake my head, stepping between him and Mum. “Even if we reached everybody again, they’ll be confused. I doubt they’ll come.”

“I need to lie down,” Mum whispers. “Just for a few minutes.”

She looks like she’s drowning in worry. I pat her hand, but she doesn’t appear to feel it. Her slow steps to the bedroom might as well be the shambling gait of a zombie.

“Put a post online,” Arnold snaps, eyes following until the bedroom door closes, then his attention switches back to me. “Call it a family emergency, and reference Blaine, but use the photo of me and your mother smiling, showing off the ring.”

He rubs his forehead, face creasing into so many lines he ages twenty years. The first signs of genuine concern leave me wading in guilt.

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