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Stevie like he himself had witnessed Ian murder Mike? What would a six-year-old do after that? He’d be terrified. He’d run. So Lorcan ran too. Dylan was here somewhere.

117

Naiyana

The cab was as silent as it could possibly be given the condition of the road and the rocks chattering against the underside of the ute.

The enormity of what she had done filled the space. She might not have shot Mike and Stevie herself but she had assisted in disposing of their bodies. She was an accessory now, much like the hundreds of trinkets and ornaments held at the storage facility in Perth. Maybe she would never be back to collect them. But that didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was what she might have to do next. Whether she wanted to or not.

She thought back to the rusty ute, Ian flicking the match inside, the flames bursting into life and Ian cynically making light of the whole thing. She found it both disturbing and reassuring. That resolute and absolute will to act. To see through to the end what was started. She was the same. Especially when there was an end goal. She had pursued Brightside Foods to the very end. And she would continue to pursue Chester Grant. She would make sure that he did the appropriate thing, vote the appropriate way, make the world a better place for as long as she was able.

But could she control Ian? Was this truly love or was this the dictionary definition of a torrid affair, a vicious storm that caused enormous upheaval? With the possibility of more to come. After all he had lied, cheated, stolen and killed. But was she any better?

She broke the silence as they approached Kallayee, manoeuvring around ruts that were now mapped into her subconscious.

‘What happens next?’

She ushered the question into the open even though, like on the first night they met, she worried she might not be able to fully comprehend what was next. Ignorance wasn’t just bliss. It was more than that. It was safe. Unless she was being led like a cow to the slaughter.

Ian didn’t look at her as he spoke, eyes focused dead in front. In command or at least wanting it to appear that way.

‘I want to be with you.’

Naiyana didn’t respond. She didn’t know what to respond.

‘Since saving you from that building I haven’t – I can’t – stop thinking about you, Naiyana. Every day, every night.’

His sincere profession of love. At least in mere words. She had been consumed by it too but now she saw it for what it was. An infatuation – a chance to redeem himself – that had curdled his brain. And hers. For too long.

She repeated her question.

‘So what happens next?’

‘We leave town.’

She didn’t respond to this immediately. She needed to find out what his plans were for Dylan. And Lorcan.

She glanced across to find that he was staring at her. The steely eyes bore into her. They wanted an answer. She told him the truth.

‘Not without Dylan.’

That broke the eye contact, his drifting away. She sensed bad news.

‘You’ll have to leave him behind,’ he said, coldly.

‘I’m not doing that.’

‘For the minute.’

‘No – not for the minute.’

‘We have to make a clean break. We’ll come back for him later.’ The coldness in his tone suggested he wasn’t going to back down. She responded with fire in hers.

‘He’s not a bag of bloody laundry, Ian. Or a partner in crime you can dump – or dispose of – when they fulfil their purpose.’

They locked eyes again. She tried to read his face.

‘If we take him, what do we do with Lorcan?’ he asked.

‘What do you mean, what do we do?’

‘If we take the only thing he has left what do you expect him to do? Mike said he killed Stevie. He could do it again.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ she replied, ignoring the doubts festering in her soul, all certainty evaporated from her psyche.

‘He looked very nervous when we met him,’ said Ian.

‘He nearly fell off the bike.’

‘Which we found close to where Stevie was shot. With the tyres slashed. Why would that be?’

Though Lorcan was above all a coward, access to the rifle meant that he was capable of something inhuman. But still… it was Lorcan. He wouldn’t shoot someone to death.

‘No. I know my husband. He doesn’t have the guts. He sent me out to meet with you despite knowing you could be capable of anything.’

She looked across at her passenger wondering what exactly he was capable of.

‘So what’s the answer?’ he asked.

‘We need to secure his silence,’ she said and looked at Ian. ‘You should also know that he does have a rifle.’

‘And you didn’t tell me?’

‘We all have secrets,’ she said, as they entered the deserted streets of Kallayee. In the distance a small dust storm seemed to be forming. It was the last thing they needed.

Naiyana reached her house, Ian walking alongside her, the rifle by his side. They exchanged a glance and he followed her in. The house was quiet, no sound other than the creak of their steps on the floorboards. She called out for her husband. Then her son. Receiving no answer, they searched the house. Lorcan and Dylan were gone.

‘Dylan’s backpack’s missing,’ she noted, running into the kitchen, opening a cupboard. It was almost empty. ‘And some food.’

Ian nodded. ‘Okay, they’ve legged it. Time for us to go too.’

She ignored the callousness in his voice. This was what he wanted after all. To run. Men were all the same in the end. They only wanted to run from trouble. Abandon everything and save themselves. But not this time.

‘I want Dylan.’

‘Later.’

‘I’m not going anywhere without him,’ she said as her eyes drifted to his rifle.

118

Emmaline

The blood on the dashboard was AB. Matching Naiyana Maguire’s blood type. It would go through DNA analysis later but seemed to confirm she had been in the vehicle. The questions now were, how much blood had

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