Page 47

Home from The Mount, I saved the recording of Bell to the cloud, my fingers trembling.

I stashed my backpack—with Janey’s file, her diary, and the police log sheets—in the locked drawer in my closet.

No one had ever used it, but I found the key in Mum’s random-stuff drawer.

Since Sarge had noticed my backpack, I couldn’t keep taking it out with me.

But someone had already sneaked into my bedroom to cut up my pants, so I couldn’t leave it lying at home either.

I asked Mum to walk on the beach with me and quickly updated her on my clash with Bell. Somehow, saying the words to her was worse. We were both shaking. Fear? Adrenaline?

“Isla, it’s time to call the police.” Mum agreed with me and believed we had to take action. Despite the circumstances, that feels good. Could we trust the police? I needed to tell Declan everything. Hopefully, he’d be relieved that I was safe and had gotten the recording, rather than angry.

“Let’s get back to Dad,” I said.

As we turned to head home, I noticed someone near the house. A friend of Dad’s? But where was their car?

We crossed the road to the house and saw Dad’s visitor. Sarge. I let out a strained cry.

Mum called out to him, but he kept going. What the hell ?

“God, Isla,” Mum said.

My heart skipped a beat. Sarge’s distinctive red, gas-guzzling truck was parked four houses down.

Why hadn’t he parked outside our house? Had he been watching, waiting for us to leave?

My breath caught. The fact that Sarge was visiting was not suspicious.

He was Dad’s best friend. But the timing was highly suspicious.

What did he want in the house? I sprinted up the gravel path.

I was terrified for Dad’s safety. But he was sitting watching the footy on TV, Fred on his lap. Relieved to see him okay, I feigned nonchalance. “Sarge stopped in?” How could Dad not hear my heart thumping? Beside me, Mum’s breathing went shallow.

“Turned up the moment you two left for the beach,” Dad said.

Please, no. I stopped myself from sprinting to the bedroom, Mum following. With fumbling fingers, I plucked the key from where it was attached to my phone and opened the drawer.

The bag was still there. I tugged it out. Bizarrely light. Swaying, I unzipped the top. I peered inside, thrust in my hand, and punched around all the edges.

Thatcher must have called Sarge and told him everything.

“No, no, no.” Frenzied, I thrust the bag upside down and shook it out again.

“Sarge took it.” Mum fumed. “What should we do now?”

The sliding door opened. Declan entered the room.

“What is it?” he said, hurrying to my side. Wide-eyed, Mum made her excuses and left the room.

“Janey’s diary.” My eyes shot up to him, and the blood drained from my face.

“It’s gone.” And copies of the Janey file from Bevan.

And the log sheets. “This is Sarge. Snow knew this room; he must have told Sarge where the locked drawer was. He knew to look for my backpack. He stole Janey’s diary.

He knows something about Janey’s disappearance. We can’t let him get away with this.”

I told him about Sarge’s slip and that I’d gone to see Thatcher Bell.

“What the hell? You could have driven right past me. I can’t believe this.” He shook his head. “Go on.”

While I spoke, he paced up and down the bedroom, rubbing his forehead, averting his gaze. Frustration radiated from him. My first reaction was defensive. I did what was needed.

I played the recording to him and sat on the corner chair, then took a deep breath. He stopped pacing and faced me with his hands on his hips.

“Isla, we’re partners. You should have told me about this.

” His lips closed around a curse. “You have two men—no, not just men, two cops —watching you. This could potentially damage our heroin case.” He took a deep, shuddering breath.

“And I cannot believe you agreed to meet a cop at the top of the mountain. With no one around. No one even knew you were there.”

My shoulders slumped and curled inward. “Nothing happened in the end,” I argued weakly. “I don’t think he could bring himself to harm me.”

Declan crossed his arms and pinned me with a hard stare.

“You have information that will ruin his reputation, his whole life’s work. That information could get his face and name on the cover of your national newspaper. Worse, he could be arrested and serve jail time.” He took a deep breath. “ That man is not going to harm you?”

Declan’s words dropped with the sharp, pointed weight of an anchor. Instead of determined and brave, my actions felt impulsive and shortsighted.

I shifted in my seat. I thought I’d weighed up the gravity of both plans—maybe not entirely—but as with the rest of my career, the risks had seemed worth it. I was willing to do what I could to hunt down the killer of my childhood friend. And no one, except Shay, had ever worried about me before.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know Janey meant a lot to you, and yes, I agree something’s off. You’re tenacious. I admire that, but until we make arrests on the heroin case, you cannot pursue this.”

He dropped to a crouch beside me. “I can’t believe you kept this from me.” His green eyes clouded with something else—a deep disappointment.

I bit the inside of my cheek. That look stung.

I’d expected anger, but not that I’d hurt him.

We’d come so far—to a place where I felt safe and free to bare something of myself, where I could reach down deep and explore those feelings I’d always wondered about but had thought were not for me.

Now, I’d yanked us back into our secrets.

I dropped my head into my hands. “I’m sorry.”

He reacted with a quick glance and no words, like my weak “sorry” didn’t make any difference.

Immediately, he made some calls. Two undercover officers would be parked outside all night.

I worried about explaining that to Dad if he noticed or to Rosemary, who had immediately spotted the previous ones.

A knock on our door. I opened it. Mum. Declan left to get some air.

“It makes me feel sick that we were friends with him for decades.” She shivered. “We don’t know him at all—there’s no telling what he’s capable of. ”

We called Kui and Bevan.

“He’s a liar and a thief,” I said, after I’d told them what happened. Mum rubbed my arm. “Doesn’t this confirm that he’s covering up for the killer? Or maybe he killed her himself?”