Deep Wate - Sarah Epstein Page 0,78

she misses living here and has to convince herself she’s better off.

‘No,’ Dad says, his voice raised. ‘I won’t let you do that, Mel. We agreed she’s here for three weeks.’

Luisa and I exchange a look. It is my mother. Is she trying to make me go back early? I’m supposed to be here until after Easter weekend, which is still another week away.

Through the doorway that leads into our unit, I can see Dad pacing up and down the hall. He drops his head and stares at the carpet, holding the cordless phone an inch from his ear.

‘I’ll handle it,’ he interrupts loudly. ‘And listen, next time your little spy contacts you, tell him to come directly to me. I’m more than happy to set him straight.’

I widen my eyes at Luisa and she quickly drops her gaze when she hears Dad coming. She opens a desk drawer, pretending to hunt for something so Dad doesn’t think we were eavesdropping. I, on the other hand, stand up as soon as he returns.

‘What’s going on?’ I say.

Dad squeezes my shoulder as he walks past me. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘Who’s her little spy?’ I fold my arms. ‘Is it Doherty?’

He moves behind the desk and puts the phone in its cradle. ‘Probably best if we don’t get started about him.’

‘Dad,’ I say, wounded by this new betrayal. ‘Mum’s still in touch with him?’

He turns at the hurt in my voice and his face softens. ‘Sounds like it. He emailed her.’

‘Why?’

‘He says I’m letting you run all over town getting worked up about Henry Weaver. He’s worried you’re causing trouble. Or that you’ll run into some.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Dad moves back around to where I’m standing and grips my upper arms firmly.

‘Listen, chook. I know you want to find Henry, but your mother’s already got her knickers twisted about how much time you’ve been spending on this stuff. The posters all over Sydney, the Facebook page. She says it’s interfering with your schoolwork and you don’t have any kind of social life.’

‘My grades are fine. And I do have friends. They all happen to live here. She’s the one who separated me from them.’

Dad sighs, dropping his hands. ‘All I’m saying is, if you keep making waves your mother will use it as an excuse to cut short your time here.’

‘That’s not fair.’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘So, what then? I’m supposed to do nothing about finding Henry?’

‘Ah, now. I didn’t say that.’

I frown. ‘But you said …’

‘Not to make waves. Waves are big and obvious when they smash up against things. Make ripples instead.’ He winks at me. ‘They still keep the water moving.’

‘David,’ Luisa says admiringly. ‘That’s very poetic.’

Dad clears his throat, suddenly self-conscious. He picks the note up off the desk. ‘Anyway, about this …’

Luisa lowers her head again. ‘I’m sorry for leaving the office open while I was in the garden,’ she says. ‘It was my job to keep it safe. I understand if you want me to resign.’

Dad blinks in surprise.

‘No way, Luisa,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘Dad needs you.’

‘And it’s obvious from this note—’ Dad places it down on the desk and taps it with his finger, ‘—it wasn’t burglars.’

I have my own suspicions about who it was. I keep thinking about the way Mason stared at me in the police station when I showed Doherty the polaroids, and how he had to know I saw him having that passport photo taken. Maybe he did see me following him in the bush behind his house. At the very least, Ivy probably told him I’d been over there, in Henry’s room.

LEAVE IT ALONE

I’m getting close to something and he doesn’t like it. As if sending a rock sailing through the reception window wasn’t enough, now he’s left another message telling us to butt out.

‘I think I know what this is about,’ Dad says. ‘And who’s responsible.’

‘Mason,’ I say.

Luisa sucks in a breath, scowling. ‘That boy! I tell Rina he’s bad news. First the fighting, then the broken window. Now she’s crying herself to sleep every night …’ She folds her arms and tuts.

‘I don’t think this was Mason,’ Dad says. ‘It’ll be something to do with my opposition to Jack Doherty’s Cutler Bend proposal. He’s sending me a warning to stop rallying support about reopening the road.’

‘He can’t do that!’ I say. ‘He doesn’t own the town.’

I’m about to tell Dad to report it to the police when I realise our predicament: Sergeant Doherty is Jack Doherty’s brother.