Page 34 of Lela's Choice

“It makes more sense to grow up a bit, get a job first, make sure you can provide some financial and physical security.” Hamish was babbling about old dreams, and cursed himself for signalling something he had no intention of explaining. Child custody could be a deadly game, with violent male partners keen to punish their wives and children if they tried to flee. Except Olivia became the target, and his refusal to step away from a case had placed her in that diabolical position.

“Are those your plans?” She was scanning his face, clearly puzzled by his brutal intensity.

“Channelling the voice of reason and maturity.” For five years he’d lived with the consequences of not taking steps to mitigate the risk to his wife and unborn child, and he’d made a personal promise never to put another woman in the same position, never to get close enough to another woman for it to be a possibility.

He’d never discussed Olivia’s death and his vow with anyone, yet Lela tempted him to share those lost dreams with her. Lela would never use a confidence as a weapon. “I’m prepared to bet your father would expect you, if not me, to include youth agencies in the search.”

“Maybe Papa expected me to bow to force majeure and do what you said?”

“Yeah. Like that’s going to happen.” He forced a smile, while she continued to search his face for clues to his mood. But his jaw ached, and his face had settled into a Botox-induced rictus long before she released him from her scrutiny. “Would he think you helped her run away?”

“I doubt it, but Papa doesn’t trust me to follow his songbook. You were here waiting for me. A pre-emptive strike, conveniently located in the same hotel and able to monitor my every move.”

“Why would he suggest you help me if he doesn’t trust you?”

“In this mood, Papa would use anyone or anything in the search if he thought it would succeed.” She worried her father was prosecuting old battles, but Hamish needed more evidence.

Old man Vella had presented a convincing case for his concern and pursuit. Lela’s fathomless eyes, halo of hair, and seductive tones tugged at him, but he couldn’t dismiss the possibility she carried scars from the multiple tragedies she’d experienced in such swift succession.Can you see your niece’s situation clearly?“Could what happened to your sister be prejudicing you unfairly in Sophie’s case?”

“It’s a possibility you have to consider. It’s one of the reasons you and I have a truce, not a partnership,” she said.

“Do you always state the rules of engagement?”

“I try to.” And her irrepressible dimple peeped through, bewitching him. Lucky she’d called a halt this morning because his will had melted in the sun. “I hate it when Papa plays games.”

Hamish hated any gameplaying in relationships. And, to be honest, he’d shied away from thinking about Olivia’s flaws, the mistakes he’d made—she’d made—they’d made after her murder. Grief had smothered other emotions.

“Navigating my way through family conflict’s my bread and better.” Could he claim that? Olivia had ignored his request not to go out alone that day, seeing an opportunity to wean him off his domestic violence caseload. Would Lela have listened to his warnings and taken basic precautions to protect herself and her baby? “You have to trust me on this.”

“Working on it.” She didn’t say things she didn’t believe.

Hamish checked his phone’s caller ID. “Marty. He might have something for us.” He walked a few metres away from the table to ensure he wouldn’t be overheard by other diners.

* * *

LELA GAZED OUT THEwall of windows. The swimming pool, empty just after dawn except for herself and Hamish, now bustled with activity. The floor-to-ceiling glass provided an uninterrupted view of the sun seekers below, those energetic, semi-dressed figures hustling for the best positions, claiming lounges and towels before they could be gazumped by later arrivals.

Envy, an emotion she rarely gave space to, shivered up her spine. Roasting herself in the furnace-like heat didn’t appeal, but she envied the holidaymakers’ untroubled existence. They could surrender to an open sky, cool water, achingly long days, filled with romance, discovery, but more enticingly—glorious irresponsibility.

Mari’s deathdidhaunt her. If Lela hadn’t been so determined to fight her father, to keep the memories of her mother and sister alive, would life have been different? She’d started her foundation to turn the negative merry-go-round in her head into positive action. An organisation that picked up young people with nowhere to go and tried to provide some stability for them. Sophie was jealous of the time Lela gave to strangers.

Lela could admit that now. Pointless jealousy because Sophie wanted Lela hanging around less and less, wanted more time out with her friends, but she’d wanted Lela at her beck. Was that Lela’s faulttoo?

“First, second, and only priority.”For now.

Could Sophie have become pregnant as payback?

Ironic, given her chaste lifestyle that Papa would waste a second blaming Lela for Sophie having a sexual relationship. All those years when she’d combed books on parenting and pop psychology in an effort to understand and make the right choices for her niece, she’d come to some stark conclusions. The draconian control exercised by Papa and Aunty was more likely to incite mutiny. But she’d never be able to convince them their rigidity was a classic trigger for disobedience.

“Marty has found Debrincat’s aunt.” Hamish tucked his phone back in his pocket. “She’s prepared to talk to us.”

“How did he describeus?”

“I told Marty to say Sophie’s aunt would like to see her.”

“You planning on remaining in the car?” Maybe that explained her unexpected response to him—the rhythm of their truce.

“She’s an elderly Maltese woman. She’d expect a man to accompany you on such business,” he deadpanned.

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