be. There were no arguments. No ‘That book’s yours’, ‘This one’s mine’, ‘Whose is this?’, ‘I don’t like it anyway so you have it’. The detritus of a relationship, when all said and done, is tragically inconsequential. Our footsteps echoed through the empty rooms, loud on the wooden floorboards, recycled demolition rimu. I’d sanded, Sean had pollied. We kept our voices low out of respect for the ghosts who howled all around us. It was good of Sean to do this, walk through the house with me one last time. But it had the opposite effect to what I thought it would; I felt the distance between us, not the closeness. He’d moved away from me and, with heart sinking into my gut, I finally had to admit I had moved away from him, too. There was no suggestion of anything as crass as a goodbye fuck and we steered clear of any declarations of everlasting or any other kind of love or promises we’d once so willingly made each other. We kissed goodbye and held each other for long enough. Then Sean walked to the door for the last time and closed it quietly behind him. I stood, rooted to the spot, listening to the creaking of the house, the rattle of the loose glass in the frames.
And in that big empty room, I danced. It wasn’t something I’d planned to do, which is probably why it was okay. I danced with the ghosts of friends, of family, parties, laughter, tears. I danced with the years that were gone and could never be recovered. I danced with the beauty of what had been the beginning of our love and I danced with the tragedy of it ending. I danced for our imagined children who would now never be born. And I danced to my dead sister, Niki, whose voice still echoed in these empty rooms. I danced to the youthful love Sean and I once had and the mature love we’d lost. And I danced because if I didn’t dance, I’d crouch down in the corner by that bit of skirting we’d always said we’d fix but never did, and I’d weep. And this house, our shelter, our home, deserved to be honoured in some way that wasn’t about weeping and wasn’t about real-estate agents or mortgages or settlements. I danced because it seemed right to dance.
And that dance would undoubtedly haunt the house forever.
And when the dance was ended, I put the keys and a bottle of wine for the new owners on the benchtop, picked up Wolf’s smelly old sheepskin and walked quickly out of the house. I drove away with Wolf’s familiar breath huffing on my neck and I didn’t turn back around. Not once.
Surrender
Donna Malane
‘Malane weaves a gritty and clever plot, creating a terrific
novel of suspense and action.’ — New Zealand Listener
Missing persons expert Diane Rowe is used to making sense of other people’s lives. It’s just a pity she’s not having much luck with her own.
The brutal murder of her little sister, Niki, and the break-up of her marriage have tested her usual tough optimism. When Niki’s suspected killer turns up dead, Diane sets out to nail the truth.
But uncovering Niki’s seedy past reveals truths and dangers she never expected — or wanted — to face.
Diane is determined to make sense of it all — whatever it takes.
Winner of the inaugural 2010 New Zealand
Society of Authors/Pindar Publishing Prize
Acknowledgements
Thanks to my agent, Daniel Myers, for his expert advice and encouragement. Thanks as always to my family for their generosity and kindness, and to Max for his expertise; to Bella Leia for reminding me of the strength of innocence and to Mischa for the importance of humour. And thanks to Ian, my partner in life and crime.
About the Author
Donna Malane is an award-winning television producer and scriptwriter. She has written for all genres of television, including a number of successful crime dramas. Surrender, her first adult novel, won the inaugural 2010 New Zealand Society of Authors/Pindar Publishing Prize. Donna lives in Auckland with novelist and poet Ian Wedde.
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. While many places are real, the events and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to the behaviour or appearance of actual persons holding positions similar to characters in the story is coincidental and unintentional.
HarperCollinsPublishers
First published 2013
This edition published 2013
HarperCollinsPublishers (New Zealand) Limited
PO Box 1, Auckland 1140
Copyright © Donna Malane 2013
Donna Malane asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
HarperCollinsPublishers
31 View Road, Glenfield, Auckland 0627, New Zealand
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street, Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
A 53, Sector 57, Noida, UP, India
77-85 Fulham Palace Road, London W6 8JB, United Kingdom
2 Bloor Street East, 20th floor, Toronto, Ontario M4W 1A8, Canada
10 East 53rd Street, New York, NY 10022, USA
National Library of New Zealand Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
Malane, Donna.
My brother’s keeper / Donna Malane.
I. Title.
NZ823.2 — dc 23
ISBN: 978 1 86950 986 6 (pbk)
ISBN: 978 1 7754 9052 4 (epub)
Cover design by Matt Stanton, HarperCollins Design Studio
Cover images by shutterstock.com
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Surrender
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright