“Uh, yeah… Can you send them up, please?”
The receptionist agrees, and as I rush to the bathroom to clean myself, I realise I’m drunk. Like, super drunk. I stagger to the sink, suck Colgate from the tube and shove my busted toothbrush into my mouth. The door buzzes while I’m scrubbing frantically, and I spit into the sink and go to open it. I find Davis braced in the doorway. He scans my heels, robe and smudged face with a world-weary expression. “Sure. Hi, Ada. Why wouldn’t this be happening?”
“Cheers,” I say, trying to look around him. “Where’s?—”
Before I can finish my sentence, Jake elbows Davis aside and sweeps me into his massive, gorgeous-smelling arms. “Baby…”
“Hi,” I breathe as Jake spins me around, peppering my face with kisses.
“Ada,” he murmurs between each one. “Ada, Ada,Ada.”
I press my face into his neck, feeling safe for the first time in forever. My shield is back, bright and burnished, shining at ten times its usual strength, and I know whatever happens next, I’m going to be fine. Jake is here. He won’t let anyone hurt me.
As we spin, Davis coughs into his fist and starts pacing the room.
“He’s scanning the perimeter,” I whisper into Jake’s throat. “Or is he hunting for clues?”
Jake kisses me full on the mouth, then groans. “Let him do his thing. Lord, I’ve missed you, woman.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
Davis clears his throat. “Not to interrupt, but we’re either gonna talk about this farm thing, or I’m gonna… give you guys some privacy.”
I squirm out of Jake’s arms. “I wanna tell you guys about the farm thing.”
Jake looks torn but drops onto the couch and Davis follows suit, both watching me expectantly.
I wince as they study me. “I don’t know where to start…”
“The beginning,” they say together.
It takes an hour to go over everything. I chug sparkling water to keep my mouth from drying out as I explain what Thrasher let slip about his workers, what Betty and I found online, what I saw on the farm and at the pub. Then I play the recordings; Grace, Shannon, Henry.
When I’m done, Davis is ashen, and Jake looks like he wants to kill something.
“Those fucking dogs. I’ll?—”
“I appreciate your homicidal instincts, but we need evidence more than we need you to kick the shit out of anyone,” I interrupt. “Thrasher and his boys are gonna be trashing records at that farm. Shredder city. I’d be surprised if they’re not already offloading the illegal workers?—”
“That’ll take time,” Davis says. “They can’t just turf a bunch of undocumented immigrants onto the street. They need transport, new housing, that kind of thing. Fake docs if they wanna pretend everyone’s been paid the right way all along.”
I nod frantically. “That’s why we need more details. Betty’s trying to dig on the back end, but she can’t get into their system, and we don’t have any official names of the workers to follow up.”
“We will.” Jake stands, pressing his fingers to his temples. “Colin. Nan. Betty. Betty’s mum…”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He turns to me. “Can I talk to Betty? I know her. Her mum and my nan are in Rural Women NZ together. But I don’t have her number, and I’ve got an idea, but we have to move fast. Can you ring Betty and put her on speaker?”
“I… Sure.” I call Betty, who answers on the first ring.
“Jesus, Ada, I was so worried?—”
“Hi,” Jake cuts in. “Sorry, Betty, this is Jake Graves-Holland. Me and my mate Davis are with Ada. We’re keeping her safe. I know how we might be able to get concrete evidence on the farm, if you’ve got a minute?”
There’s a brief pause but if Betty’s weirded out she hides it like a pro. “Sure, go right ahead.”
Jake’s plan seems both laughably simple and stupidly complicated. When he’s done explaining, I expect Betty to hang up. Instead she gives a thoughtfulhmm.
