On the counter were a line of three post-it notes.
I give permission for Eliza Ellis to do what is necessary to protect her niece.
Signed, E. Ellis
I give permission for Eliza Ellis to not lose hope.
Signed, E. Ellis
I give permission for Eliza Ellis to be the strongest version of herself.
Signed, E. Ellis.
She was thinking about the moment Madison had approached her, only weeks ago, with her plan. She’d come into the staff room during lunch, bold and smirking, and in front of all the other teachers she’d asked Eliza to go speak somewhere privately. Then, huddled in the car park, she’d told Eliza that on the camp Madison and Jasmine would stage a fight, and then Eliza would keep the four girls behind after the rest had left.
She left Eliza no choice. ‘If you don’t, I’ll tell everyone the truth about who Cierra was sleeping with . . .’
That’s all she’d said, but it was enough for Eliza.
I have permission to not lose hope.
She hadn’t been there for Denni. It all came back to that. Denni had been Eliza’s treasure, a chance to take what the world had refused to give. Eliza wanted to do for Denni what hadn’t been done for her, or for Monica, or for Kiera. But after everything Eliza had done, Denni had still killed herself. Nothing would be good in the world ever again. She’d tried to protect Wren, but she’d failed at that too.
Back in the present, heavy fists thumped on the door.
Alright, here we go.
She left the bottle on the counter and walked to the front door. She opened it and then hastily stepped back as Murphy forced himself inside, his teeth a white grimace in his dark beard.
‘Murphy! Wha— Why are you here?’ She looked past him, expecting to see a police car, but it was only Butch’s Hilux.
Murphy glanced around the room, then turned his eyes on her. Those eyes were sharp and clear, and with the wine and the emotion and the fear, mixed with the breadth of his shoulders and the set of his jaw, Eliza found him suddenly extremely attractive.
He grabbed her arms and pulled her face close to his. She squeaked, and his eyes looked between hers, and then he forced his mouth onto hers. Her own eyes widened, and for a moment she didn’t know what to do. Then she bit his lip – hard – and drove her knee up into his groin.
He groaned and lurched away, bending over with his hands between his legs.
She kicked him in the shin and then punched him repeatedly in the shoulders. ‘How dare you!’ She kept hitting him, wondering if she could pummel him out of the door. ‘You disgusting, horrible —’
‘I had to know,’ he moaned, still doubled over. ‘You never . . . came across as a lesbian.’
‘Excuse me?’ She gripped his hair and pulled his head back so she could look him in the face. She couldn’t believe she’d had the audacity to be attracted to him moments earlier. ‘First, how dare you?’ She pulled his face closer to hers, finding pain and uncertainty there. ‘Second, what possibly makes you think my sexuality is any of your business? And third, you think you can tell someone’s sexuality just by kissing them?’ She grabbed his beard now and wrenched his face even closer to hers. ‘I could be heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, pansexual – kissing me would tell you absolutely nothing.’
He groaned.
‘To think that I’ve been defending you . . .’
‘That’s what Madison is telling everyone.’ He held her wrist to keep her from pulling more of his beard out. ‘You and Cierra. I never believed it.’
Eliza didn’t let go of his beard. ‘Exactly what has she told you?’
‘She sent Carmen —’
‘What did she say?’
‘That you and Cierra have been sleeping together.’
Eliza looked down into his eyes. She didn’t move, didn’t say a word. Her hand slipped through his beard and fell to her side.
Of course.
When Madison had come into the room that night, all she’d seen was a scantily clad Cierra and Eliza in her dressing gown. Eliza had assumed Cierra would’ve explained the truth to her sister later, but in fact . . .
That night Cierra had called Eliza, afraid, because Tom had passed out in her bed. Eliza had pulled herself out of bed in a rush, driven across town, and climbed up the trellis to Cierra’s window. The two of them had managed to get the very drunk Tom to the window, where he had dropped down into the thick conifer hedge below. The crash had woken the Masons’ dog, Mr Bruiser, who had then brought Madison bursting into Cierra’s room. She drew the wrong conclusion, apparently.
Now she faced a choice . . . No, of course she had to come clean about Tom. But what would happen if she did that?
Tom gets blamed for the disappearance, even though he didn’t do it. The girls don’t get found.
Monica hates me. I lose my sister.
Wren hates me. Her dad loses everything.
I don’t care. I don’t care! I’m not taking the fall for him!
‘It isn’t true, is it?’ demanded Murphy, standing upright unsteadily, his hand hovering protectively over his groin. ‘I haven’t told the police. I don’t believe it. I told Carmen not to tell anyone, but who knows what Madison will do. This is all part of her publicity stunt, isn’t it?’
‘Carmen was going to tell the police?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you stopped her? Why?’
‘They’d crucify you,’ said Murphy, rubbing his chin beneath his beard. ‘They were going to kill me, imagine what they’d do to you.’
More loud knocking came at the door. ‘Eliza? Open up, please,’ came Con’s voice.
Eliza and Murphy turned to the door as one. They stepped closer to each other.
‘I didn’t tell them, I swear,’ whispered Murphy. ‘You can run. I’ll stall them.’
Eliza laughed, but there was no humour in it. ‘Run? Are you serious?’
‘Eliza,’ called Con. ‘We need to talk.’
She walked forward and opened the door.
Con stepped in, his shirtsleeves rolled up. He looked stressed. He was followed by a woman who flashed her badge and ID card at Eliza, identifying her as Detective Melinda Tran.
Con frowned at Murphy. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Visiting a friend,’ Murphy said. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Eliza, we need you to come down to the station.’
‘What’s this about?’ she asked.
‘Madison’s latest video: I’m not sure if it’s been uploaded to her channels yet, but she sent it to the police station fifteen minutes ago.’ His hands were clenched into fists. ‘And also, I think, to every major media outlet. Take a guess, Eliza: what do you think the video is about?’
Shouting sounded outside and then Tom burst into the house, breaking one of the glass panels of the door as he slammed it open. His immense muscular bulk loomed in the entryway, his large jaw muddied as though he’d fallen. His eyes were wide, the guilt and remorse painfully obvious.
‘Eliza?’ Tom looked between the detectives, lingered on Murphy for a moment, and then to her. ‘I just heard. Madison has shared it all over Facebook.’