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My heart wept all over again.

Chapter Sixteen

Istarted the next day later than I’d hoped. My brain was all over the place with what I needed to do. Taking time to get my thoughts together, I planted myself at the coffee shop, where I devoured two coffees and two muffins while I made a list.

This was not a list of all the fun things I’d done, nor of the fun things I planned to do in the near future. This was a list of all the crap things I needed to do to finish with Mother.

At nine o’clock, I made my first phone call.

It rang three times before a woman with a sweet voice, perfect for a hospital reception, answered the phone.

I explained who I was and asked to speak to one of Mother’s doctors.

“Hello. This is Doctor Alberts.”

“Hello, Doctor. My name is Daisy Chayne. I met you yest?—”

“Yes, Daisy, I remember you. How can I help?”

“I . . .” I cleared my throat. “I was just wondering if there was a chance my mother would ever come home again?”

He moaned. His footsteps sounded like he was in a stairwell. “Daisy, your mother is very sick.”

“Yes, I know that. Is there any likelihood of her leaving the hospital?”

“No. I’m sorry. She will not recover from this.”

“Okay. Thank you. I will come and see you soon.” I hung up the phone and marked a tick next to the first item on my list.

With my pack over my shoulder, I powered up the street toward the mobile home estate. It was just nine-thirty in the morning, and yet the sun was doing its best impersonation of a furnace. Australian sunshine was much more intense than European sunshine. It had something to do with the ozone layer, apparently.

I was hot and sweaty, but I had no intention of using the communal washroom facilities at the caravan park. I’d been in enough of those in my life to steer well clear.

Stepping into her trailer, I tried to tell myself to keep my emotions in check and just do what I had to do. But damn, if my body wouldn’t behave. Starting in what used to be my room, I went through every drawer again—I rummaged through the wardrobe, even checking the clothing pockets. I peered under the bed, prodded the pillows, and flipped the mattress.

I had no idea what I was looking for, or even if there was something to find. But I was on a mission to see if there was anything that would help the police in their investigation. As methodically as I could, I moved from one end of the trailer to the other.

By the time I was satisfied that I’d checked everywhere, the trailer looked like it’d been tossed into the air by a tornado.

I had zero intention of fixing it up.

With that done, I washed my face and dried it with the towel I’d borrowed from my motel, then I strolled up to reception.

Ma and Pa were watching the midday movie when I stepped into the air-conditioned office, and their glances at each other suggested a silent debate over who would serve me. Maybe, with my hair scrambled in all directions and my sweaty armpits, I looked like a serial killer or something.

“Hello, again. I was just wondering if you could tell me if my mother’s account is up to date for site thirty-seven?”

A heavy frown corrugated Pa’s forehead, almost smothering his squinty eyes. “Hmm. Let me just check my books.” His fingers trembled as he tugged a heavy-set ledger toward him. “Oh, ahhh, now let me see.” He flicked over the pages, stopping at one that had a large thirty-seven at the top. The writing was so large, and clearly visible from my side of the counter. A series of dates on the left-hand side confirmed that Mother’s weekly payment stopped about five weeks ago. That would coincide with when she was taken to hospital.

“Well,” Pa croaked. “It appears that . . .”

“I can see she’s behind. I’d like to catch that up and pay for one more week. How much will that be?”

“Oh, ahh.” He tapped some numbers into a calculator. “Well, that’s going to cost nine hundred and thirty dollars.”

“Fine. Is cash okay?”

His eyes brightened. “Cash is king.”