Page 86 of Last Shot

Max rested her feet on the dash, and Grey swatted them off. She put them back as she said, ‘Did you know Frankie was at that climate change rally where they ended up throwing firebombs in the abattoir?’

‘Yeah. I don’t think she expected it to get that bad.’

‘You mean the firebombs or the media coverage?’

He glared at her. ‘Obviously I mean the firebombs. Do you really think I care more about the Barbaranis’ reputation than someone’s life?’

‘Well ...’

His heart cracked at her hesitation.

‘You’re pretending to be a private investigator to get the Ravens to tell you stuff about their daughter. You took their money.’

He sighed. ‘I’m not risking someone’s life by doing that. I’m trying to solve their daughter’s murder.’

‘It’s cheapening her memory. They trusted us and you took their money.’

His throat was thick. ‘I’m not keeping the money, for Christ’s sake. You actually think I would do that?’

‘I don’t really know what to think about you sometimes.’ Her words were heavy with meaning.

He sucked a breath but clenched his fists against the wheel to steady himself. He could not get into this with her now, he could not lose focus. Last night was a mistake. A declaration of war he couldn’t revoke. ‘Not that I have to explain myself to you, but I always planned on giving it back. I’ve got contacts at the bank who’ll transfer it through to their account from an anonymous source.’

He could feel her gaze on him. He stared resolutely ahead, her eyes like a sunburn slowly scorching his skin. Why did he care what she thought? It wasn’t because of last night. He’d done that and more countless times with countless women and he’d never cared this much about what they thought of him. Prided himself even, on his ability to not care – like he was still a little kid trying to win his dad’s approval.

Look, Dad – no emotion!

‘If Poppy had died before we knew about this murder plot, I’d put my money on Mrs Raven being the one to want the Barbaranis dead,’ Max said.

The grey and pink triangular roofs signalling a town made him slam on the brakes, slowing the car. He hadn’t seen the speed sign and he wasn’t paying for another fine for Bessy, who he was almost certain lied about exactly how fast she was going on the speedometer.

‘Would you have blamed her?’ Grey asked.

The town slowed down around them. The main street was lined with dirt-splattered utes and shoppers lugging brown bags from the novelty candy and vintage stores.

‘I don’t know if I’d have it in me to stop her.’

But you managed to convince Libby you had it in you to stop Skinner.

‘I know the Barbaranis didn’t do this.’ Grey pressed the accelerator harder than he intended.

‘Of course you believe that.’

He didn’t miss the way her white knuckles clenched on the edge of the seat. He felt like a dickhead. He slowed down five kays below the limit to show it.

‘Because if they did,’ she continued, ‘that means you’re complicit in murder.’

‘You don’t know them,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, but you don’t.’

‘And you know absolutely everything about them?’

‘I grew up with them. I was literally raised with Nella and Tomaso, and I helped look after Frankie and Luca when they came along.’

‘Can’t you see that means you’re not objective?’

‘Of course I’m not objective. They’re the closest thing I have to ...’

‘Family?’

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