No bloodshed. No violence. Just going from unconscious to dead without a flicker.
But I doubt Rod’s son appreciated the finer points of his bloodless murder. Not when he must have woken from a fever-inducing tummy bug to see me tipping his dead dad into his grave.
A hundred times over the years, I opened my mouth to talk to him about what he might have seen. As many times, I clamped my lips shut, deciding instead to let sleeping dogs lie.
Now, seated across from him in the secure unit of a prison, it probably isn’t the most opportune time for a heart to heart. Especially when we need to dance around the subject for the sake of those listening.
But I can’t rewrite the past, only put my pen to the future.
So I meet Josh’s gaze and wait out his anger. Wait for him to move onto the next subject for us to dance around. Both of us knowing I can extend his stay here just as easily as he can sentence me to an equal term one prison along.
“You’re gaining weight.”
“Yep.”
“That down to your holiday too, is it?”
“Yep.”
He stops talking, staring at me through the safety glass. I press my palm against the cold Perspex and after a long minute where he stares at it with his lip curled, he does the same.
Since I’m on a roll, I say, “I need you to play nicely.”
He rolls his eyes, baring his teeth at me and for a moment looking so much like his father that regret pours out like a tidal wave, knocking my legs out from under me, leaving me sputtering for air.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll be disappointed.”
He bursts into laughter, snuffling and snorting long past the worth of the small joke. Then he nods. “Give the garden an extra stab with the shovel for me, would you?”
He hangs up the phone and presses the buzzer before I can reply.
* * *
Later that night,I stand at the rear door of my property, staring out at the back yard, individual features barely discernible in the growing darkness.
After returning home from my prison visit, I compulsively watched the news footage on repeat for hours. Watching as the police arrest Kai and transport him. As they pose for photographs and stop to answer the trailing journalists’ questions.
There’s been nothing new added to what I viewed yesterday, but I can’t stop. Each time the news comes on, I lean forward, eyes glued to the screen.
I hunger for more information, new information. I’ve gone through websites, trawled social media, trying to find out everything I can, everything the police have released to the public.
Each additional fact hits me like a physical blow but still I keep looking, keep reading.
My family liaison officer called to offer her help, which I declined. She doesn’t want to be a shoulder to cry on or a resource to help me make endless cups of tea. She wants to ingratiate herself so I’ll let something slip, something she can use to penalise Kai, to incriminate me.
The victim support officer also called, and I gave far more careful consideration to her offer. In the end, I declined her, too.
An idea is forming in my head, and I need to give it space to wilt or blossom. Forcing myself to be polite to a stranger on the off-chance they have helpful advice to impart seems like too much of a strain.
My outside might look calm as I stand there but inside is another story. Wave after wave of joy, of grief, of happiness, of anger rushes through me. Some linger, a few circle back.
There’s too many for one person alone to feel.
I need company.
I need enormous arms that would embrace me, protect me at a moment’s notice. A large heart to go along with his large hands.
