A thought that I rarely allowed myself to dwell on popped in my head, taunting and trying to smash down that brick wall.
What if they were found innocent?
Linda had said there was too much evidence, she was confident, but Dad had a good lawyer and a charming personality. He was the master at deception. Now he was sitting in his cell planning how he was going to manipulate the jury.
Would Dad have some believable excuse or elaborate story the jury would buy into?
I hoped not… but it wouldn’t surprise me.
No one saw it for eleven years, and some of those people lived in the same house. If he could fool them, what was preventing him from fooling strangers?
I laid awake until past midnight. There was no Lizzie, so I assumed she was out with friends. Maybe Ali told her about what’d happened today, and Lizzie was giving me space.
This was her room. I didn’t want her feeling like she had to stay away.
Tossing over again, I sighed in frustration and gave up and grabbed my phone. Sleep wasn’t coming yet, which might be good because there was probably a nightmare waiting for me.
Oakley: I can’t sleep. X
Cole: I could! What’s up? X
Oakley: I don’t know. Entertain me until I’m tired. X
I wished I could’ve seen his face when he read that.
Cole: Are you serious?? X
Oakley: Deadly. I still have questions. Has your favourite colour, food, music, movies, hobbies, books changed? X
Cole: You’re still my favourite everything… now let me sleep, woman! X
I bit my lip, smiling into the dark room. Okay, he could sleep.
Oakley: Ditto. Night. X
Cole: Wouldn’t kill you to say it more. Night. X
Speaking to Cole had done the opposite of making me sleepy, so I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen, getting the shock of my life when Mum gasped.
“Jesus!” I placed my palm over my heart. “Mum, what are you doing in the dark?”
The only light came from a lamp by the sofa in the next room. The doors were open, so it wasn’t pitch black, but this wasn’t normal.
“Everything okay, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, just couldn’t sleep. What about you?”
“Same.”
Drinking tea at almost one in the morning wasn’t a good sign. Dad sending that request was messing with her head.
“Can we talk, or are you going to bed?” I asked.
“Of course, we can talk. I’ll make us a drink. This one’s cold now, anyway.”
The mug was still full when she got up and moved past me.
“Are you okay, Mum?”
