November (11 page)

His head fell back on the pillows, exhausted from the effort of talking.

‘Sixteen years ago, now,’ he said. ‘And it’s been something I’ve found almost impossible to live with. Now that I’m coming to the end of my life, I realise it’s not something I can
die
with, either.’

A noise at the door startled Durham. ‘What was that?’ he asked.

‘Nothing to worry about,’ I said, wondering why he was so edgy.

‘As long as it’s not my son. He thinks I’m crazy wanting to tell you about this. I can’t let him catch me with you.’

About this
?
What was he talking about? Had he lost his mind?

‘He’d kill me,’ he said. ‘It wouldn’t take much!’
He started to laugh, making a choking, rusty sound like it was something he hadn’t done in a while.

‘He’d probably kill you too. So we’d better make this quick, while he’s out of the place.’

‘Let’s do that,’ I agreed.

Again came the rusty, choking sound of his laugh. He reached for his water once more. I helped it to his lips.

Durham had said this terrible event occurred sixteen years ago. Things started coming together in my mind. I pictured the newspaper clipping about the abduction of twin babies that Great-uncle Bartholomew had snatched out of my hands. I pictured Ryan and his mum. I pictured
my
mum and the sadness in her eyes.

‘I think I know what you’re talking about, Mr Durham,’ I said slowly.

‘Is that right?’ he asked, dubiously.

‘Are you talking about a kidnapping?’

His eyebrows rose, slowly. ‘Smart kid, eh? I’m not surprised you have some idea about it; you’ve been able to avoid the cops and the crims for nearly a year. So tell me, what do you think
you
have to do with it?’

I wasn’t too sure what to say. Murray Durham was probably the sort of guy who would lash out in rage if someone made a mistake about him.

‘Don’t be scared of me. This old dog is dying, can’t you see? No teeth. No bite.’ He knocked his fingers against the glass of water containing his false teeth. ‘Anyway, I’m done for, son. I don’t have any action left in me, good or bad, except to make a long-overdue confession. So come on. Spit it out.’

‘My guess is you were involved in the
abduction
of twin boys,’ I said. ‘Sixteen years ago.’

I waited, holding my breath. There was a long silence.

Durham cleared his throat and shifted on his satin pillows.

‘You’re right on the money,’ he admitted. ‘I
was
part of that notorious kidnapping.’

My heart was racing. I tried to focus and
listen
carefully to his every word.

‘I was a well-known hitman by that stage of my life, and I was approached by someone with an unusual assignment. My job was to kidnap twin babies from a suburban house, and dispose of them. I was offered a fair amount of money in return, but that’s when I discovered something about myself—the infamous, heartless Murray Durham didn’t have it in him to be a baby killer. Yeah, I could cut the toes off dirty crooks and homicidal jailbirds, but I couldn’t harm a baby. I suppose that’s a good thing.’

He glared at me, as if daring me to contradict him.

‘I should never have agreed to it,’ he
continued
. ‘My heart was never in it and maybe that’s why the whole thing was a disaster. The job never felt right, but I’d grown accustomed to luxury and got greedy. Plus I had an old debt that I wanted cleared, and I saw this as my
opportunity
to finally knock it out. It’s sad what people will do for money. How much of themselves they’re willing to sacrifice to get the things they want. I didn’t see a cent in the end. It was all for nothing. I was working with a partner—he’s dead now—and we broke into the Kenthurst house—’

‘Kenthurst?’ I blurted out. I thought I
understood
what he was talking about, but my family was from Richmond.

‘Kenthurst,’ he repeated. ‘We picked up the two sleeping babies without any trouble, then drove off to an old building that I knew was waiting for demolition. We’d just made it inside and put the babies down when I spotted a police patrol car on the street. The babies were crying and I
panicked
. I ordered my partner to grab one of them, while I grabbed the other, and we split. I ran out to the car, thinking my partner was following me, but he wasn’t. I waited behind the wheel for him, but I didn’t see him come out of the building.
The cop car returned so I slammed my foot on the accelerator and sped off. I drove all the way back to my place, and just as I stepped inside, my sister Sandra turned up—she was living with me at the time. There I was with a damn baby
screaming
his head off. I couldn’t think quick enough to make up a story about the predicament she’d caught me in. She was horrified at what I’d done. She’d raised me—was like a mum to me—and she was furious. She’d just heard about the
kidnapping
on the radio and couldn’t believe someone would do such a thing … let alone me. Her little brother. Turns out my partner had abandoned the other baby in the old house, and made a run for it alone.’

The old man’s lips quivered at the memory.

‘I didn’t know what to do with the baby. He wouldn’t stop crying. I had to keep him quiet and out of sight so the neighbours wouldn’t suspect anything. I begged Sandy to help me.
Regretfully
, she took the little guy from me and calmed him down. She was great with him. She fed him, and put him to sleep. Before we knew it, days had passed, then weeks, then months. Sandy had fallen in love with him. I told her we couldn’t keep him any longer, that she had to get him out of the house. But she had nowhere else to take him. Finally she found a friend who couldn’t
have children, and together we organised dodgy adoption papers.’

‘What happened to the other baby?’ I asked. ‘The one your partner left behind?’

‘He was eventually found by the cops. He was cold and hungry, but he was fine.’ Durham stopped speaking and stared at me. ‘He was reunited with his family late that night.’ His bloodshot eyes examined mine. ‘You’ve probably guessed by now who the child was.’

A sick feeling welled up in my stomach as so many of the unexplained things from my life started falling horribly into place.

I was the child who was returned.

Durham’s eyes continued to bore through me.

‘Sandy’s friend never knew any different. She took the other baby, and the white toy dog he was clutching when we took him, and thought the adoption was legal and above board. She never knew that Sandy was the sister of
Toecutter
Durham.’

The white toy dog of my nightmares—the dog I’d discovered in Ryan Spencer’s room—started making more sense.

‘The abduction happened on the eleventh of November. The date I left on your blog.’

‘You did that? You hacked my blog?’

‘I wanted you to investigate the date. I
wanted you to realise who you were. I wanted you to know about the other boy—your twin. But then I ended up sending Ezekiel and Chook to find you and bring you in so I could tell you myself.’

I was speechless.

‘I’ve felt bad all my life about taking those kids—bad about that mum losing one of her boys, bad about separating twins. And now that I’m an old man, I finally understand the damage I did to that family, stealing their children like that, tearing them apart. So anyway,’ he said, taking a big breath, ‘I needed you to know the truth … while I was still able to tell it to you. I feel better now,’ he whispered, barely audible. ‘I feel lighter already.’

‘Who was the person who hired you to do the contract job?’ I asked.

Durham was silent.

‘Who was it?’ I asked again, thinking of the list of names from Rathbone’s office. My shock was suddenly being overtaken by anger. This guy had ripped me off from having a life of
growing
up with my brother. He’d taken us from our parents, and my twin—Ryan—had never been returned. ‘Who ordered the kidnapping? Was it someone called Deep Water, or Double Trouble, or the Little Prince? Tell me!’

‘What are you raving about, boy? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

From somewhere in the house, I heard a door slam. Immediately, the sick old man became
agitated
. ‘Ezekiel! Ezekiel? Get in here now!’

The Polynesian suddenly appeared at the door.

‘That’s Wayne coming home!’ said Durham. ‘Get this kid out of here! Use the back door. Oh, I almost forgot! Wait, son, take this with you.’

With that, Murray Durham, his haggard face pale with fear, opened a bedside drawer, took out an envelope and pushed it into my hand. ‘Now, disappear, the pair of you!’

Ezekiel grabbed me and hurried me to the door, looking out each way, like he was checking for traffic.

‘Follow me,’ urged Ezekiel, before racing me down the hallway towards the door at the end. He kicked it open. ‘On your way!’ he said,
pushing
me out. ‘Disappear! Fast!’

I didn’t have to be told twice. With the envelope tucked tightly under my arm, I took off, running.

After I’d put a bit of distance between me and Murray Durham, I found a place to hide—in a carpark behind some charity bins—and ripped the envelope open.

I leaned my head back against the wall of one of the bins. The newspaper clipping trembled in my shaky hands. As sick as all of this was
making
me, understanding brought an overwhelming sense of relief. At last I had the explanation as to why that threadbare white toy dog, the cold building and the crying baby had brought such fear and desolation to my nightmares. At last I understood why Mum and Rafe wanted to keep
their dark secrets, and why they treated me as though I was
damaged
. They thought I was scarred from the trauma, even though I was way too young at the time to remember it clearly. At last I understood why I always felt like
something
was missing.

I had a brother. Ryan Spencer’s mum was a friend of Durham’s sister. My double was my twin.

The name my parents had given him was
Samuel
.

Head down, my mind still whirling from
Toecutter’s
confession, I found my way back to the
treehouse
. I snuck up to the Lovetts’ shed to plug my phone in for a charge, then hauled myself up the tree and collapsed on the floor.

My head was thumping. A song suddenly drifted into my thoughts.

‘Two little lambs in the cold night frost, one was saved and the other one lost.’

Great-aunt Millicent’s song must have been her attempt to tell me about my brother.

The soft wind stirred the leaves of the huge tree outside the windows. I sat up on the bench and hugged my knees. I had to call Mum. I had to tell her about Ryan—about
Samuel
. She needed to know that her other son was alive and well.

Then I got to thinking about whether Mum would
want
to be reunited with her lost son. It would mean Ryan finding out about his shocking past, having to face the fact that the woman who had raised him was not his biological mother.

‘Hi Mum,’ I imagined myself saying to her. ‘I have something amazing to tell you. I found Samuel.’