I stagger away, hands and legs shaking. I mutter a quick goodbye and hope my voice doesn’t tremble. What if he sees my fear? What if he sees I’m onto him?
“See ya, Amanda!” he calls out chirpily.
My back stiffens. I’m so shocked it paralyzes my fear. I whirl around, breathless. “What?”
He’s still leaning against the doorframe. He makes a show of furrowing his brow, as if confused. Fucker.
“You just called me Amanda,” I say hotly.
“No,” he says firmly, but there’s a cruel half smile on his lips. “I didn’t.”
My fists clench. I shake with anger. With fear. “Yes, you did.”
He smiles wider.
Trembling, I look behind me, studying the bright lawn and the corellas chittering in the low branches of the gum trees. I swallow hard. “This house was recently valued at 1.1million, yeah?” I begin. “You’d think a place like this would be worth more.”
His eyes turn cold. He can’t say anything, because he knows I’m right. I will my voice to be calm. Controlled.
“The Fitzgeralds sold theirs last year for 1.25 million. And it’s nowhere near as nice as this one.”
I don’t need to tell him that the Fitzgeralds’ is only two streets away. Or that it’s only a three-bedroom, one-bathroom on less than an acre. Nothing as nice as his five-bedroom, two-bathroom, three-acre beauty. He knows that. And it pisses him off.
“Location, location, location,” I tell him. “I’m guessing that living down the road from Black Wood isn’t very appealing to new buyers.” I look carefully at him. “Might drive the asking price of your house down too.”
He tilts his head, blond hair falling over his shoulder. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
“Did you put something in my mailbox?”
That smile again. “Like what?”
“Like a dead rat?”
He shrugs. “My uncle’s the town cop,” he says slowly. “Did you know that?”
My shoulders slump, and he smiles in that “I’ve got you” way. “Tight-knit community, as you know,” he adds smugly.
“And you hate it, don’t you?” I ask, breathlessly. “You hate it because you live four doors down from a murder scene and it doesn’t exactly fit in with the Beacon image, does it?”
“I don’t give a shit about Beacon,” he says sharply. The smile’s gone and the rage shines through.
“You’re trying to drive me out,” I tell him, stepping back. “Just like you drove Amanda out.”
“Prove it.”
He slams the door, and the corellas stop squabbling. They watch me as I stagger down his driveway, shaking. He did something to Amanda. I know he did.
And I think I might be next.
POLICE REVEAL CAUSE OF DEATH IN BLACK WOOD CASE
July 4
ABC News, Melbourne
An autopsy has revealed that one of the people found in Black Wood House died from blunt-force trauma to the head.
Emergency services were first called to the house after reports that a body had been found at the infamous property. The body was lying facedown with critical injuries on the morning of June 30 and looked like it had been there for some time.
