Page 189 of Sugarloaf Ridge Lies

Penny smiles and her shoulders drop ever so slightly. “I’d better get back inside. Thank you for the chance to make it up to you both. If I can help when the baby comes, please let me know.”

I’m pretty sure she won’t be first on my list to ask for assistance, but it’s nice for her offer.

With a nod I turn to the house. Hopefully, I make it to the bathroom before my bladder fails.

Penny strides back in the direction we came. Jerry wraps his arms around me and presses a kiss to my forehead. From the deep breaths he takes in and releases, I’m not sure if he wants to talk about the apology or not.

But I can’t talk now. “I really need to pee.”

Jerry’s laughter echoes in my ear. “Of course, you do.”

The crunch of gravel on the driveway draws our attention. When the car rolls up, Jerry curses under his breath.

Len exits the vehicle. He approaches with a bottle of something in a brown paper bag.

“What are you doin’ here?” Jerry asks.

“I’m not looking for you, son, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Jerry’s shoulders drop. I know he worries that Geoffrey Clayton will change his mind about court.

“I came to have a drink with Mick. He keeps askin’ me to come ’round and see his precious granddaughter.”

Jerry extends his hand and Len shakes it. He offers me a warm smile. “You’re looking well, sweetheart. Hangin’ in there?”

I nod and grit my teeth as sharp pains shoot from my groin down the front of my legs. “Trying.”

“Seeing as you’re both here, I should let you know I found something on Skylah.”

My knees grow weak.

Jerry chokes on his next breath. “What?”

Len shrugs one shoulder and smooths the flyaway hairs over his bald spot. “It was a long time ago, but I got a hit on some old passenger records.”

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

“The address she listed overseas was a ski lodge for backpackers in Canada,” Len says. “I’ve sent information to the Canadian authorities.”

“She got out,” Jerry says as he exhales. “Fuck me, she got out.”

Len nods. “There’s no record of her returning to Australia that we could find.”

I grip Jerry’s arm as air rushes from my lungs.

“Well, I’ll be,” Jerry says.

I clutch below my bump. Tightness grips me as it hits like a wave, the cramping beyond what I’ve ever experienced.

“Jerry?” I barely recognise the squeak in my voice. Warm liquid trickles down my leg, pooling in the base of my Birkenstocks. A gush of fluid follows. The ache deepens and the strange urge to push comes over me. “Oh, god.”

Jerry stiffens. Jaw slack, his eyes fix on my sandals. “Liv, are you—”

“The-the baby’s coming.” The ache intensifies.

Len jingles his car keys. “Need an escort?”

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