Page 48 of The Soulmate

And there it is. The reason for the dread.

I wonder if it gives her a perverse sort of pleasure to lull someone into a false sense of security, get them all comfortable and relaxed, and then stick the knife in. I suppose it would be quite satisfying. When they did this inLine of Duty, I always gave a fist pump. Not today.

‘The victim’s husband told us that she kept a USB on her keyring,’ Tamil says. ‘It was silver and her name was engraved on it. But the USB wasn’t on the keyring when it was returned to him.’ She’s looking at her notebook as she reads the description of the USB. Then she looks up. ‘Do you know anything about it?’

I feel blood pulsing in my face, my arms, my body. I think I might faint.

‘No,’ Gabe says. ‘I didn’t see any USB. But then, I didn’t see her keyring either.’

‘I thought it was a long shot, but we had to check. All right, we’ll leave you to get on with your evening.’

Tamil returns her notebook to her pocket, and we file back down the hall. As I reach for the door to let them out, the girls take their opportunity to pounce.

‘Did my mummy or daddy do something wrong?’ Asha asks.

Tamil chuckles. ‘No. I’m just asking them about something that your daddy saw.’

‘The lady at the cliff?’

The detective lifts her gaze to meet mine. ‘That’s right.’

‘She didn’t jump,’ Asha says seriously. ‘Grandma said she jumped, but it was an accident. She fell.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Yes. My daddy said so. That’s why we should never go too close to the edge. Because you can fall.’

It is entirely explainable, of course. Out of the mouths of babes. What’s less explainable is Gabe’s facial expression when Tamil looks up at him. He is horrified. Pale. Your classic deer in the headlights. He is the very image of someone who has just been caught in a lie.

44

AMANDA

BEFORE

After those men broke into the house, our security increased dramatically. Cameras, alarms, keypads. I had a panic button in every room, and another to always carry on my person. Max’s office was similarly set up with cameras and alarms. Everything, Max told me, was state-of-the-art.

There was also a full-time personal security guard stationed at the house around the clock, an ex-military officer called Baz. I’d been terrified of the two men who’d come to the house that day, but Baz was something else. He was the tallest man I’d ever seen, built like a rugby player, with one of those heads that flowed straight into his neck. Each of his limbs was wider than my torso and pulsing with veins. He had a mean face, huge, mangled knuckles and a snake tattoo that crept out of the collar of his shirt. Before Baz, I hadn’t known that you could feel both safe and petrified at the same time. But after a while, I started to get used to it. This level of security became our new normal.

*

‘It’s done,’ Max said, six months after the break-in. We were at home, in the lounge room. Max had been working on his computer, while I was editing some photographs I’d taken at the opening of the Ai Weiwei exhibit at the art gallery. We were sharing a bowl of Pringles.

I looked up from my laptop. ‘What’s done?’

‘My business with Arthur Spriggs.’

He closed the lid of his own computer with a thud of finality. It was the same computer he’d been working on that day in the study, the one he kept locked in the safe.

‘What do you mean it’s done? What did you do?’

‘The less you know . . .’

‘No way, Max,’ I said. ‘No more of that. I want to know. Ideserveto know.’

A flash of something crossed Max’s face. I couldn’t quite place it, but it gave me a sick feeling.

‘I asked Baz to return Arthur’s money. In person.’