I run downstairs to reach her before she topples over, but she manages to right herself. At the disgusted expression on my face, Mum’s lips thin. Mistake. From the moment I heard the front door open, I should’ve broken out my poker face. Shaking my head, I turn and carry on back up the stairs. For once, I’m not close to tears. I’m too angry for that. The words in the letter have seared their way into my skull. Besides, if I confront Mum now, she’ll turn on me for making her feel guilty and we’ll only end up quarrelling again. And then worse. Mum is a mean drunk and meaner when she’s high. Time for me to retreat to my room, but this time I won’t forget to lock the door.
NOW
* * *
thirteen. Libby
* * *
Before either of us can speak, the bolts are drawn back and a key turns in the door above us. Troy is already on his feet. I move to stand beside him but he reaches out without looking and pushes me back, partially shielding me with his body. Stunned, I stare at him but he’s looking up at the door, waiting for it to open. His whole body is tense, coiled like a snake about to strike. He’s not even blinking. In spite of where we are and the neck-deep shit we’re in, Troy’s actions unexpectedly make my eyes prickle.
The door opens. The man wearing the rabbit mask appears at the top of the stairs, a phone in his hand. A moment, then he raises it, centring on Troy and me, and takes a couple of pictures. The flash of his phone dazzles. I blink rapidly. Rabbit Man stands watching us without saying a word. Is it my imagination or does he seem to be studying me in particular?
Troy sidesteps to stand directly in front of me. So it wasn’t my imagination. I reach out to hold onto Troy’s arm. His muscles are bunched and rock solid but it’s his stillness that’s most unnerving – like he’s poised and waiting for hell to erupt. Peering over Troy’s shoulder, I watch as Rabbit Man turns his attention to Troy, glaring at him with hostile contempt. Even in the half-light of the basement I can see – and feel – the cold in our kidnapper’s eyes. And still no one speaks. Rabbit Man turns and leaves the way he came, bolting the door behind him.
Moments pass.
‘You OK, Libby?’ asks Troy, his eyes still on the door.
The choking lump of fear in my throat makes any answer impossible. At my silence, Troy turns to face me, a frown pulling his eyebrows close together.
‘Libby, it’s all right. He’s gone,’ he says.
I am glass. One inappropriate word, one wrong gesture and I will shatter into a million pieces. I want – no, I need to scratch at my skin, plant my nails into my forearm and dig deep. Troy moves closer to stand in front of me and takes my hands in his.
‘Libby, he’s gone. We’re still standing.’ Troy forces a smile.
I look up at him.
‘Libby, breathe,’ he orders.
He makes a show of inhaling and exhaling like he’s demonstrating how it should be done to someone who’s never tried it before. But it works. My heart rate begins to slow. The need to claw at my arms doesn’t disappear but it begins to recede. And all I can do is thank whoever, wherever, that I’m not alone. After what happened to Troy at my house all those years ago, I’m lucky he doesn’t spit in my eye.
Troy smiles. ‘OK?’
I nod.
I’m not – neither of us is – but for the moment it’ll do. In this moment, it’s all we’ve got.
THEN
* * *
fourteen. Troy
* * *
Callie looks around my room, at the posters she’s seen a thousand times before, at my duvet cover – anywhere but at me.
‘Come on, Callie. Spit it out,’ I tell my sister.
‘Just remember that I’m your older, more intelligent, prettier, awesome sister and I love you very much.’
Warning bells begin to peal in my head. Callie is on the verge of being maudlin, and my hard-nosed, hard-headed sister is never soppy.
‘Callie, we both know that of the two of us I got all the best genes in this family,’ I state, wishing she’d get to the point.
Her smile fades.
Crap! Hadn’t meant it that way. I take hold of her hand and smile to show it was just a joke. The clouds over Callie’s expression clear and she smiles faintly.
‘You certainly got more than your fair share of modesty,’ she says. ‘I’ll give you that.’
The twinkle in her eye is back, thank goodness. My sister already has to put up with enough crap and condescension about her dad being a Nought. She isn’t about to get more of the same from me. My dad, Nathan Ealing, was Mum’s second husband. Well, I say second husband, but technically Mum wasn’t actually married to Callie’s dad. He died before they could get married or even live together. My dad owned a restaurant called Specimens before he died. That’s where he and my mum, Sephy, met. Mum doesn’t like to talk about her past. She says the past is to learn from, not live in. Hell, I only learned when I was nine, almost ten, that Callie’s dad’s full name was Callum Ryan McGregor and exactly who – and what – he was. Before that, I only knew he was called Callum and that Callie was named after him. How messed up is that?
Callie purses her lips. I know what that means. ‘I need a favour from my favourite brother.’
‘I’m your only brother, Callie, so that doesn’t count.’
‘Pfft! Details!’
‘I thought you were all about the details—’
‘Unless I want a favour from you.’
‘Like what?’
Unusually for my sister, she hesitates.
‘Get on with it,’ I say, exasperated. The suspense is killing me.
‘I took on a case recently, a high-profile case. It hasn’t even been formally announced yet. I’m working to ensure it stays out of the news, but I can’t guarantee that.’ My sister traces the pattern on my duvet cover before taking a breath and looking me in the eye. ‘And I just want to warn you that there may be some fallout in your direction so I need you to be on your guard.’
I stare. This is a full one hundred and eighty degrees away from what I’d been expecting. ‘On guard? Why? Your cases are nothing to do with me. What kind of high-profile case?’
Callie sighs. ‘I can’t say until it’s officially announced.’
‘Who am I going to tell? Don’t you think I should know, especially if your case is going to have some kind of impact on me?’
‘It won’t. I’ll make sure of that.’ Callie’s expression hardens by degrees. Her eyes take on a steely look that is rarely displayed outside court. ‘Anyone wants to take on my family? They’ll have to go through me first.’
‘Callie, what’s going on?’
Silence.
In that moment, I realize something. Whatever happens now will define our future relationship. Either Callie trusts me or she doesn’t.
Maybe Callie feels that too because she says, ‘I’m defending Tobey Durbridge on a charge of murder.’