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The banging escalates. Joseph’s head pounds in tandem. Erin slips past him, pads down the hall to the door. ‘Wait,’ he croaks. ‘Don’t answer.’
She hesitates, just for a moment. Her expression seems almost one of pity. ‘Joe, I don’t think they’re going away.’
‘Please, you can’t—’ he begins, but Erin’s hand is alreadyon the latch. The moment she twists it the door bursts open, nearly knocking her off her feet.
Into the hall staggers Enoch. His eyes are small, networked with red capillaries. The knuckles of his right hand are bloody, the skin scraped and raw. ‘Tilly,’ he growls through clenched teeth. ‘Get her now.’
Erin takes a backward step. ‘Enoch, has something happened? What are you—’
‘I found this,’ he says, lifting up a phone. ‘Hidden in a cupboard. Only came across it when it rang. Got to be Drew’s. Not the one I found yesterday Something’s got to be on it – otherwise why would she hide it? Tilly might know the code. Where is she?’
Erin takes a breath. ‘OK, Enoch, let’s figure this out together.’ Hands raised, palms outwards, she skirts around him and closes the door.
Enoch watches, sweat running into his eyes from his forehead. Joseph can smell him: a fug of body odour and sour beer breath. Abruptly, he recalls how he’d caught Max raking through Drew’s underwear drawer. Last night, he’d closed his mind to it, because the very worst explanation was simply too troubling to consider – that his son was hunting for a trophy.
Now, a conviction seizes him that the target of Max’s search was the phone in Enoch’s hand – which means whatever’s on it will implicate the boy if discovered, sending him to prison for life.
Joseph’s hand twitches. He has to get that phone off Enoch, but any move to take it will implicate him. If Enoch raises the alarm, the house will be searched, the bungalow, too.
Joseph’s bagged and balled-up T-shirt, soiled with the dead man’s blood, is still hidden at the back of a kitchen cabinet. Hidden in his ensuite is the dead man’s wallet. At thispoint, taking the fall for everything that’s happened would almost be a relief – except Max has already indicated he wouldn’t allow that; that he’d insist on revealing the truth.
His vision begins to stutter again. These next few moments might dictate how this all ends.
‘Tilly isn’t here,’ Erin says, ‘but I can call her.’
Enoch shakes his head. ‘I just tried. She wasn’t picking up.’
‘She might pick up for me. Why don’t you come through?’
His eyes narrow further. Finally, he grunts his agreement.
They assemble in the kitchen. Erin opens her bag, searches through it. ‘Oh,’ she says. ‘I forgot. Joe, I think you might have my phone.’ She smiles tightly. ‘I gave it to you in the car on the way home. Remember? It’s in your front pocket.’
Joseph stares, trying to read her intentions. Can he trust her? An hour ago he wouldn’t have asked the question, but in the last sixty minutes so much has changed. He certainly has no right to that trust. Not after what he just did upstairs.
Returning her fake smile with one of his own, he passes her the phone, holding it a fraction longer than necessary when she takes it.
If Erin understands the message, she gives no outward sign. Dialling her daughter, she lifts the phone to her ear.
Joseph retreats to the archway leading to the utility, within reach of the baseball bat he keeps hidden there. Enoch watches like a man primed for violence, veins standing proud on his neck.
Erin lowers the phone, shakes her head. ‘No answer. But we might not need her, Enoch. What codes have you tried?’
‘Just the usual. One-two-three-four. Four zeros.’
‘What about the number Tilly gave you last night?’
He grimaces. ‘I don’t remember it.’
‘I do. Sixteen-thirty-eleven.’
‘This phone only wants four numbers.’
‘Let’s try the first four, then. Sixteen-thirty.’
‘Wait,’ Joseph says. And instantly realizes it was a mistake.
He’d spoken without thinking, and now both Erin and Enoch are looking at him strangely.