My Brother's Keeper - By Donna Malane Page 0,69

or wrote to her or anything like that. And I just knew never to talk about her. We never talked about Falcon either. It was like, to him, both of them were dead.’ She put the photo of Karen back down on the bed. ‘I thought I had a good dad …’ she said, and shook her head. ‘Now there’s nothing about him I believe any more.’ She picked up another of the photos and studied it for a long time. It was the photo of her leaning on the bonnet of the car her mother had attempted to drown them in. Karen was in the driver’s seat, looking towards the camera with what seemed like a look of defeat. And Falcon, unsmiling, was reaching towards the car as if to anchor himself. She studied the image so closely her face was hidden from me. Her fingers slid down the glass like a blessing. She kissed the glass and then, embarrassed, sniffed back her tears and rubbed the kiss away with the sleeve of her jumper.

She was struggling enough knowing her father had taken pornographic photos of her. I had no idea how she was going to handle it when he was charged with her mother’s murder. I tried to steer Sunny back there to see if she had any suspicion at all.

‘Justin was so against you and Karen meeting. Do you have any idea what changed his mind? Why he insisted you go?’

‘It was probably Salena,’ she said, her old nemesis rearing her snaky head again. ‘Dad does whatever she says. He probably just got sick of her nagging at him and wanted it over and done with. He came home late and she was yelling at him half the night. Neo came into my bed, he was so freaked out.’ She looked at me intently. ‘Someone killed Mum, didn’t they? She didn’t, like, OD or anything like that?’

Luckily, before I had to answer, Sunny’s phone rang. Her skin turned waxy as she listened to the caller. I could hear Salena’s tinny voice still talking as Sunny threw the phone on the floor.

‘They’ve let him out,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper. ‘He got out on bail. Anton has already picked him up from the police station.’ She grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it. I retrieved her phone. Salena was still talking, unaware Sunny was no longer listening.

‘He’s not allowed to come anywhere near you, Sunny. And he won’t. I’m sure of that. But if you want us to get out of town, we can do that. We can just—’

‘It’s me, Salena. Diane.’

‘How’s Sunny? Is she alright?’

‘She’s okay. Give us a minute. I’ll get her to ring you back.’

Sunny was biting into the pillow, her arms wrapped around it as if it was a giant teddy bear. ‘Justin’s not going to come here, Sunny. He knows better than to do that. You’re completely safe here with me.’

‘How can they just let him out after what he’s done? That’s so sick!’

‘Listen,’ I said, hunkering down beside her. ‘How about we get out a movie and just forget about Justin. Forget about everything for a while. We can buy some popcorn—’

‘Are you totally crazy?’ She looked at me in horror.

I thought I’d made a dreadful mistake but her horror had nothing to do with my insensitivity. ‘Do you know what kind of crap they put in popcorn these days?’

She chose Bridesmaids. I’d managed to steer her clear of anything that looked like it might resonate with today’s events. We were at the hilarious scene where the bridesmaids are all vomiting on the white carpet of an expensive bridal outfitters when we both startled at a noise outside. Sunny leapt from her couch to mine and leaned into me, one hand on my shoulder.

‘Dad!’ she whispered, her fingers trembling.

I made steady eye contact with her, motioned her to get behind the sofa and made a quick dash to the utensils drawer where I’d seen a heavy marble rolling pin. I knew better than to draw a knife. Knives can too easily be turned against you with devastating results. There was a scrabbling sound at the door handle. I mimed ‘phone’ to Sunny, thumb and little finger extended. She responded with an expansive gesture indicating that she had no idea where her phone was. Mine was plugged into the charger upstairs. The landline would by now be sitting on Aaron Fanshaw’s desk at the Wellington police station, waiting for

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