Missing (The Cass Lehman Series Book 3) (12 page)

I leant over to give him a peck on the cheek. He turned his head and kissed me full on the mouth.

‘Don’t stay away too long,’ he said.

I got out of the car and watched him drive away. My heart was beating faster than it should have been and all my nerve endings had sprung to life, giving me a warm tingly feeling. Goddamn that man and the effect he had on me!

I smoothed my hair and waited a couple of beats before making my way through the gate and up to the front door. I’d left my keys back in Adelaide so I had to ring the bell. My first effort went unanswered so I tried again in case Mum and Gran were out the back. I was beginning to think they were out when the latch finally rattled and the door swung open. Gran stood there, an apron wrapped around her waist and flour on both hands. Her grey hair was swept back into a neat chignon. All of that was pretty normal. What wasn’t normal was the set of earbuds and the iPod clipped to her waistband.

‘Cass! What are you doing here? Come inside. I nearly didn’t hear you.’

‘I can see that. What’s with the iPod?’

‘A client of your mother’s gave it to her but she didn’t want it. She thinks it interferes with her thought processes and upsets her talent.’ Gran rolled her eyes.

I followed her into the kitchen. The smell of hot bread filled my nostrils, and my stomach rumbled. As I took in the trays of biscuits, scones and fresh bread lined up, either waiting for
their turn in the oven or cooling on racks on the table, I felt my appetite kick back into life.

Gran put the kettle on and piled a selection of freshly baked items on a plate for me as I claimed one of the chairs.

‘Have you rented my room out to a small army?’

‘The primary school fête is on this weekend. Maeve asked if I could help out. A couple of mums who normally do the baking have been hit by a bout of gastro.’

Maeve was the headmistress of the local primary school, and one of Gran’s oldest friends.

‘Where’s Mum?’

‘Visiting a client. She’ll be back in time for lunch.’

I smiled. Our household revolved around meal times. I’d missed the sheer pleasure of sitting around the table and sharing a good meal. Ed and I could both cook, but comparing our meals to Gran’s was like putting a drawing by a fifth grader up against the Mona Lisa.

‘So, what have you and Ed fallen out about now?’ Gran poured boiling water into a teapot and put it on the table with two cups.

‘Is there any danger of me ever being able to keep a secret from you?’

‘Not when you turn up on my doorstep with no keys, no car and no Ed.’

‘He dropped me off on the way to a crime scene.’

‘Oh?’

‘They found a body in the dump near McLaren Vale.’

‘Oh, yes. I heard something about that on the radio. Not identified?’

‘No, not yet.’ I told her about my trip to the morgue that morning.

‘Oh Cass, is that really something you wanted to do?’ She poured the tea.

I lifted my cup and stared into it. ‘No.’

‘Then why?’

‘He just makes me so crazy, Gran! I think I did it because I knew he didn’t want me to.’ I bit into a choc-chip biscuit and chewed it furiously.

Gran smiled. ‘You love him.’

‘I do.’

‘He loves you too. You need to learn to understand each other a bit better. It’s about give and take. Be generous and kind with each other.’

‘But he’s so … bloody stubborn … pigheaded … single-minded … self-absorbed.’ I thumped my cup down, sloshing the tea.

Gran laughed and stood up to fetch a sponge.

‘He’s a man, darling. You’ve just spent too long living in a household full of women. And we’re not just any women, we’re extra-intuitive ones. Poor Ed. You’re holding up a pretty high bar for him to jump over.’

‘He can limbo under it for all I care. I can’t believe you’re on his side!’

‘There are no sides. You love each other. I’m just trying to help you to understand why you keep knocking heads.’

My teeth were clenched and I knew my colour was high. Her words rankled. A little voice somewhere in the recesses of my head was telling me she was right, but there was another voice, much louder and more obnoxious, telling the first one to shut the hell up. I tried to clear my mind of Ed thoughts. The man gave me high blood pressure.

‘And Gran, there’s something else. It’s about Brian Jenson.’

‘What about him?’

‘He escaped this morning.’ The words felt heavy on my tongue.

‘Escaped? How does that happen?’

‘I’m not sure, they don’t think he’ll get very far,’ I said, trying to convince her as much as myself.

‘Let’s hope not.’ Gran walked over and laid her hands on my shoulders.

‘Gran …’

‘Shhh. Just relax.’ She stroked my shoulders and my head. I could feel the warm energy and peace flowing from her hands into my body. The tension in my muscles seeped away and the hornet’s nest in my head slowly quieted. She was amazing. Why couldn’t I have been born a healer like her? It was a much cooler talent than my train wreck of a gift.

Mum came home and found us like that a short time later.

‘Cass! What’s the matter? Are you sick?’

‘No, she’s fine, Anita, just a bit stressed out.’

‘What’s Ed done now?’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Don’t you start! Let’s talk about something else. Gran? What’s for lunch? Can I help you get it ready?’

An hour later we were sitting in the sunroom that Mum liked to call the ‘conservatory’ when she was feeling posh. It was really just a lean-to on the back of the house, with lots of glass windows facing north. Sunshine poured through the glass, making us all sleepy and contented with our full bellies.

Lunch had been freshly baked bread with chicken noodle soup. I vaguely remembered some book or other about chicken soup being good for the soul — or was that just a metaphor? My brain was too busy sliding into a food coma for me to think very hard about it. Shadow was curled up on my lap, or mostly on my lap. Parts of him were overflowing into inky puddles on either side of me. Nine-and-a-half kilos of cat was too much even for my lap.

Gran was listening to her iPod with her eyes closed. Mum was flicking through a magazine. The peace and harmony finished what Gran had started with her magic fingers. The last of my stress evaporated and I almost began to miss Ed. Almost. I hoped he would remember to feed Jasmine. Maybe I’d ring him later to remind him. My eyes drifted shut.

The clamour of the phone made them spring open again. I must have been asleep because at first I was confused, expecting to find myself at Ed’s townhouse in Adelaide. The fog cleared and I looked around. Gran was asleep with her mouth half open, earbuds still in place. Mum was nowhere to be seen.

The phone stopped ringing and I could hear the murmur of Mum’s voice from the front hallway. I closed my eyes and sank
back against the chair, trying to recapture the sense of peace. It was gone, and a niggle of anxiety blossomed in my chest. I looked over and saw that Gran was awake. She had a slight frown on her face. Her earbuds were out and she was listening to the rise and fall of Mum’s voice.

Mum came out a few minutes later. Her already pale complexion looked waxen in the bright sunshine.

‘Anita? What is it?’ Gran asked.

‘That was Natalia.’

My mouth went dry and a hoard of horrible images tried to fight their way into my head. She saw my face. ‘It’s nothing to do with Ed, Cass. As far as I know he’s fine.’

‘What then?’ I asked.

‘It’s about Brian Jenson. He’s attacked and killed someone and stolen a car. She’s worried he might be on his way here.’

PART II

Lead us not into temptation

CHAPTER
12

With a rattle and a clank, Mrs Jacobs slotted the last dishes into the dishwasher and shut the door. She wiped her hands on her apron and pushed a strand of grey hair out of her eyes. The morning breakfast rush was over. The men were all fed and the last had left. Leaning backwards, she tried to stretch the kinks out of her back. The aching in her joints was worse this morning; a chill in the air was making her arthritis play up. She wasn’t the only one. What little conversation she had with her guests was becoming increasingly focused on the weather, and their ailments.

Her mind turned to the vexing problem of the future. Her days running the hostel by herself were numbered. She needed help. Up until now it’d been just her and Jonathan, and she’d liked it that way. If someone else came in she wouldn’t be able to run
things the way she always had. Maybe she could just get someone in for a few hours in the mornings? But that would cost money and a stranger might pry. That wouldn’t do at all.

‘Jonathan!’ she bellowed up the stairwell. There was no reply. She frowned. ‘Where is that useless lump of a boy?’

‘
Jonathan!
’

‘Coming, Mama!’

Mrs Jacobs pressed her lips together. His voice was coming from the storeroom. What was he doing in there?

She pursed her lips and her cheeks deepened a few shades. The boy was a burden. What had she done to deserve such a simpleton? Damn Richard to hell. If he hadn’t already been dead she would gladly have killed him. It was his fault the boy was the way he was. If he hadn’t been so free with his fists things might have been different.

She turned her attention to the kettle and started to go through the motions of making a pot of tea. Even when she heard the dresser that concealed the storeroom door slide to one side, she didn’t turn around.

‘You wanted me, Mama?’

‘Where were you, Jonathan?’ She kept her back to him, controlling her voice.

The dresser slid back into place and he shuffled his feet. She listened to the familiar scraping. She didn’t need to turn to know what she would see. He’d be standing there, head hanging low, wringing his hands in agitation.

‘Well?’

‘I was in the storeroom, Mama.’

‘Why were you in the storeroom?’

‘I like it in there.’

She finally turned around. ‘Were you in the freezer again?’ She studied her son. He was a large man, well over six foot, and he carried more weight than was good for him. His dark hair was greying at the temples now. His eyes were a deep, bottomless blue. He would have been good-looking if it weren’t for his expression. His face didn’t belong to a man. It belonged to a bewildered child. His eyes were the biggest giveaway. There was something vacant about them.

He shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes.

‘What have I told you about going in there?’

‘That it’s not good for me,’ he said, his voice was sullen, hands had clenched into fists.

‘That’s right. And what have I told you about going in there when the men are still here? We don’t want people being nosy do we?’

He shook his head. The skin on his face flushed a deep crimson. He turned to the wall and began pounding his forehead against it.

‘Stop that!’

Jonathan walked over and stood in front of her swaying backwards and forwards, clenching and unclenching his fists.

‘Do your breathing exercises and calm down. If you hurt me I won’t be able to run this place. What happens if I can’t run this place anymore?’

His anger evaporated and tears filled his eyes. ‘No, Mama! I don’t want that to happen. They’d send me away.’

‘You have to learn to control your temper. You’ll have to be punished.’

‘No, Mama!’

‘Yes. Go.’ She pointed towards the kitchen door.

Jonathan raised his face and looked at her. His bottom lip was trembling, tears and snot streaming down his face. ‘Jonathan’s afraid of the dark!’

‘Go!’

She spun him around and pushed him towards the door.

‘Sorry, Mama! Jonathan’s sorry!’

‘Go!’ she said again, shepherding him out the door and into the stairwell. He stood there shaking and snuffling as she opened the door under the stairs.

‘Inside.’

‘Please, Mama!’

She pointed into the dark space under the stairs, her eyes glued to his face. ‘Now!’

He stooped and crawled into the space. She pushed the solid wooden door shut and shot the bolt into place before hooking a large padlock through the ring and locking it.

She stood there, listening to the muffled sobs coming from inside. It was for his own good. He needed to be kept away from prying eyes. She turned back to the kitchen. Time for that cup of tea. Then she’d better think about dinner preparation. She had a mind to make chilli con carne.

CHAPTER
13

‘I’m heading into town, Cass. I think you should come. You can’t sit around here thinking about Brian Jenson all day.’

I looked around. I hadn’t even heard Mum walk into the kitchen. Looking up at the clock, I realised I’d been sitting at the kitchen table for nearly an hour.

Natalia had called us with an update the night before to tell us Jenson had been sighted at various places along the freeway to Melbourne. If he was interested in his freedom, surely the last thing he’d do was take a detour to come looking for me.

I was still amazed he’d recovered enough to orchestrate his own escape. The last time I’d seen him he’d been a dribbling mess.