Losing Faith (Surfers Way) (27 page)

“You should see her fuss over Quade. He loves it, I can tell. I won’t lie, I get a little jealous, but when I see what his mum is like, I don’t blame him.”

“He was always a decent guy at school. I just hope for his sake he takes good care of my little sister or else I’ll kick his—”

“Settle down, Ricky. We’re good. You don’t have to worry about us.”

Ricky is quiet the rest of the drive to the hospital.

When we reach Mum’s bedside, Dad stands and takes two quick steps, wrapping his arms around Ricky’s shoulders.

“Ricardo. My boy,” Dad says in a raspy voice. His eyes water, which means mine do too.

“I bought you some fresh clothes, Dad,” I say, as I place the overnight bag beside the bed.

“Tank you, Peppi.”

“How are you, Mum? Did you get a good night’s sleep?”

There’s a little more colour in her cheeks than yesterday, which helps me breathe a little easier. “I did, sweetie. I feel like a million dollars today.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her that she looks as if she’s done a few rounds in the boxing ring. Her face is swollen, and beneath her eyes the skin is pretty puffy.

“That’s awesome. So what’s the verdict? When do you come home?”

“They want to keep me under observation for at least another few days and then they’ll re-assess.”

I lower my head as my stomach sinks. It sucks she’ll be in here that long, but there’s something else.
The anniversary
. It’s something I would never miss, but how can I go along when my mother is in here flat on her back in a hospital bed? Last year she briefly came with me, but this year she won’t be able to. It sucks.

“Lacey,” Mum says in a stern tone. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” I say with a shake of my head.

“Sweetie,” she says, but she might as well be saying “spit it out”.

“Friday is the fourth of November,” I say and sigh.

“And you need to go to the anniversary.”

“But you’re in here. It wouldn’t be fair for me to—”

“For you to what? Honour your best friend’s memory? They’re doing everything they can for me, Lacey, and your stubborn father isn’t planning on leaving my side.”

“I know, but there’s the shop too. You know Uncle Marco and Aunt Cat get stressed, and Lily is good but it’s too much—”

“I’ll be back in the kitchen this afternoon if Dad needs me to be,” Ricky pipes in from beside me. He steps closer to Mum, squeezes her hand, and leans down and plants a kiss to her forehead.

“Ricky,” Dad says through a fond smile. “Tank you for coming back. We’ve missed our boy. Sorry to do dis to you. I’ll pay for your flight. It must ’ave cost an arm and a leg for you to get ’ere so fast.”

“Don’t stress over it. I was coming back anyhow. Things didn’t work out.”

“Aw, my boy,” Mum says and pulls him into her arms.

How nice it is to have him home.

---

On our drive to the Palace, I take the long way and drive down Acacia Avenue, past the Whittakers’ house.
Because I looked up his address like a crazy person.

As we pull to the curb, there’s no car out the front of number forty-two.
Hmm
. I don’t recall there being a car out front last time I did a mail drop. Does the old man still drive?

When we reach the Palace, we are met with a very weary-looking uncle Marco. Him and Ricky hug it out, slapping each other on the back and muttering in Italian.

I walk over to Lily and don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her. “How’s your mum?” she asks, squeezing me tight.

“She’s good. On the road to recovery. Thank you so much for helping keep this place going,” I say and unfold my arms.

Her eyes are still focused on my uncle.

“How’s Uncle Marco holding up?” I ask her.

“Holy snapping duck shit,” she says and shakes her head.

“What are you talking about?” I grumble.

“Who’s that?” she asks, pointing to my sibling, who’s running his hand back through his dark hair and puffing his chest out.
Oh dear. Please don’t let her fall ill to the charms of the douche.

“That’s my brother, Ricky.”

“Oh, cool,” she says casually.

I don’t miss the blush surfacing on her cheeks.
No, no no. I need to set her straight.
“No, not cool, Lil. He can be a real douche.”

“Yeah?” she says, still in la-la land.

“Plus he probably came back from overseas with a raging case of herpes, so there’s that, too,” I add, just to see if she’s listening.

“Eeek, not cool,” she says and finally lends her focus to me.

I place my hand on her shoulder. “What can I do to help?”

“Um, if you could give Cat a hand clearing some tables, that’d be great, and maybe give the floor a sweep over? Marco is a messier cook than your dad.”

“I’m on it.”

A little while later Ricky joins me outside, taking a seat at one of the tables I’m in the middle of spraying down.

“Just my imagination or does Lily look a helluva lot like Faith?” Ricky says, crossing one ankle over his knee.

“Ah, yep.”

“She’s hot,” he volunteers.
I so wish he hadn’t
.

“She’s also at least five years younger than you. Don’t be disgusting.”

My phone beeps in my pocket. I shake my head at my brother as I pull out the device.

Quade: Just grabbing some groceries. Where are you?

“Is Lily single?” Ricky asks, poking at the gaps in his teeth with a toothpick.

“None of your business.” I bark out, trying to concentrate on my reply to Quade.

Me: At the Palace. Big brother is here.

Quade: Sweet, I’ll pop in and say hi, then I’m taking you back to my place for food. You need to eat.

My stomach growls, on cue. Seriously? I probably should’ve eaten something for lunch.

Me: Sounds great x

“I’ll be back in the Palace, Sis. So I’d say it’s not an unreasonable question about someone that I’ll be working with. Side by side.”

God, will he let up on this? Me being aggravated is only going to spur him on. Perhaps it’s better that I direct him to ask Lily herself.

“Feel free to ask Lily about her relationship status. I’m not getting involved.”

“Gee, that’s not like you,” he teases.

I grind my teeth. He’s not even back a day and I want to strangle him. Anyway, Lily thinks he’s riddled with disease, so I’m sure any advances will be shot down.

I finish mopping the floors just in time for Quade’s arrival.

Ricky greets him at the door. They shake hands and talk quietly. There’s plenty of smiles between them, so hopefully Ricky didn’t jump straight into the “you hurt my sister, I hurt you” spiel.

I say goodbye to Uncle Marco and Lily and hand the keys to Ricky so he can drive my car home when he’s ready.

On the way back to Quade’s, I ask him to drive down Picnic Parade towards Acacia Avenue.

“What for?” he asks as he turns onto the street.

“Just wanna take a look at something. Can you slow down a bit?” I tell him a few doors down from the house. I take in the surroundings of the street, grateful that the neighbours seem to be out. All the lights are off in the Whittaker household.

When we’re two houses down I ask Quade to pull over. Once the car is stationary I open the door and turn to Quade. “Wait here.”
Keep the car running
, I feel like saying, but I know that would freak him out. He’d probably think I was robbing the place.

“What are you doing, Lace?”

I’m going to come out and ask Mr Whittaker what his connection is to Faith.

“Um, killing my curiosity. Just be a minute. Wait here.” I close the door which muffles Quade’s response.

I knock on the front door. After a minute, no one has answered. Stepping off the porch, I look around to the garage. Light beams from a small rectangular window on the side of the old tin building with rusted gutters. Maybe he’s in there.

Quade jogs towards to me as I march to the garage door. I wrap my knuckles against the tin.

I’m tugged back by the elbow. “What are you doing at the Whittakers?’” he whisper-growls in my ear.

“He’s been leaving flowers at Faith’s grave. I need to talk to him.” I stand on my tippy-toes and spy through the window. A large mound is covered with a tarp. Is that a car under there? Why isn’t out in the open?

Goosebumps dart over my skin as I face him. “I need to get inside.”

Quade shakes his head, but doesn’t let go of his grip. “Lace, you gotta let this go. Leave the old man alone,” he says, tugging me back towards the street.

I pull my arm free. “No, Quade,” I say through gritted teeth. “I need to do this. He used to drive, years ago … I have to see what’s in there.”

Quade lifts me up and throws me over his shoulder. I silence my scream by biting on my lip, and channel my frustration by bashing my fists on the rounded muscles of his bum.

“Put. Me. Down,” I growl.

“No. Enough,” he says in a rough voice.

I squirm farther down his back and squirrel grip between his legs.

His legs give way and we crash to the ground. Thankfully, the lush lawn softens the impact.

“Lace, you’re gonna get us in serious trouble here. I could lose my job over something stupid like this.”

“Then go back to the car,” I spit out, pointing towards the road.

He shakes his head and pushes a puff of air from his nose. “You are too stubborn for your own good. Let’s just go.”

In quick steps, I walk towards the garage door.
I can’t turn back now.

“Try and stop me. If it’s unlocked, it’s just asking for it. He might as well have left the door wide open.”

I grip the handle to turn. It doesn’t budge.
Dammit.
Defeat washes over me as I look down at my feet. A ripple at one corner of the mat catches my eye. I peel back the black rubber to reveal a tarnished bronze key which lies amongst a pillow of dust and dead leaves.

Is it really going to be this easy?

With a shaking hand, I snatch up the key before I lose my nerve. It slides into the lock, like it probably has a thousand times before.

“Lace,” Quade warns, placing his hand on mine. His eyes plead for me to back down.

“I need to finish this, Quade. If the answer is behind this door, not even you can stop me.”

The door protests on its hinges as I pry it open. Quade is beside me, peering around to get a better view.
He’s just as curious as I am.

My heart is beating so crazily now that all I can hear is the sound of blood rushing in my ears.

On closer inspection, the giant mound is covered in an old canvas which is splashed in drops of white paint. Tires are visible from the side. I clutch at my chest.

Could this be it? Is this the car?

I lift at a corner and rip the canvas off. Dust flies into the air, tickling at the back of my throat. I cough as the dust settles.

It’s an old-fashioned white Holden. The car is not in great shape.

There’s a large dent to the front edge of hood. A side mirror is broken and dangling against the side of the car—the mirror inside, gone.

Gulp.

I get down on my knees and face the front bumper bar, inspecting the damage. White paint. Mirror gone.

I can’t believe the yellow roses led me here.

“The damage seems consistent,” I mutter to myself. There’s no blood or anything, but the car is pretty clean. He probably have washed it after … oh God.

I swallow down. This was the last thing Faith saw before …

Her eyes …

“This car … Mr Whittaker was responsible for killing my sister?” Quade says, his voice thick with emotion.

I stand up and wrap my arms around his waist. He can’t take his eyes off the car though. I should’ve thought about how this might affect him. In all seriousness, I’ve been chasing the answers for so long that actually finding what could be the murder weapon … it’s surreal at best.

“We don’t know that for sure, but—”

“You think it is though?” His glistening blue eyes focus on my face.

“I think so.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck, alright,” I say, and blow air from my mouth as I shake my head.
What now?

“What do we do now?” he asks.

I take in a deep breath and harden my resolve.

“We go see Wilson.”

---

When we get to the police station Wilson is behind the desk, squinting as he looks at the computer screen. It’s as quiet as a library in here. Is he the only one on shift?

“Wilson, can we have a word please?” I say in a soft voice. Normally I’m in his face, but given what we’ve just discovered, I think I’m still in shock.

Wilson looks up. His shoulders drop as he sighs in frustration. “Lacey, I haven’t got time for games.”

Quade squeezes my hand tight. “Wilson,” he says in what I can only put down as a serious teacher voice. “You need to listen.”

Wilson looks to me, his expression bored. “Okay, what now?”

“I think we found the car,” I tell him. “You need to get a search warrant for the Whittaker house on Acacia Avenue.”

Wilson stands up and walks to the side of the office and raises the end of the counter. “You two better come with me.”