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“Is it something I can help with?”

“Maybe,” I admitted, barely above a whisper.

“Hey!” Peter’s voice cut across the beach. “Stop flirting and get in the water before the sharks realise we’re here!” he yelled. My eyes widened and my face heated up at his ridiculous insinuation as Jackson stared down at me with something unreadable flickering across his face.

“You don’t have to tell me your wish,” he said. “Whatever it is, I’ll make it come true.”

Before I could respond, he stepped back, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. My eyes dropped automatically to the small cross-bone skull on his hip bone he’d gotten last year, before they trailed up his defined abdomen and paused on his face as a knowing, devious grin spread across it.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” he added, like it was nothing. Like it wouldn’t undo me completely, like I was not just wearing a simple blue dress. Then he turned and ran toward the water. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!” he yelled over his shoulder, but I was frozen, completely entranced by the sight of his shirtless body.

I didn’t follow.

I stayed right there, stilled on the shoreline, his jacket wrapped tight around me, with his AC/DC shirt clutched in my hands, praying that wishes on shooting stars really did come true.

CHAPTER FIVE

EVIE

Present Day

December 14th, 1992

Loose sheep grazed mindlessly around the paddocks as I stared out the kitchen window and watched with the familiar feeling of longing following in their path. My hands were submerged in soapy water, scrubbing the same dish for the past five minutes. What I would give to trade places with them and spend my days eating grass and frolicking over the green hills, surrounded by wildflowers and sunshine. My bottom lip trembled as I looked down and drained the sink, entranced as the sudsy water swirled down the rusty drain.

Bang!

I froze, hands gripping onto the sink when the basement door slammed against the wall. “Disgusting cunt.” I turned to see Wayne rubbing the front of his jeans with a blood-stained towel. “Need a shower, sorry darl,” he grunted as he stomped towards the bathroom and slammed the door shut. I released the breath I hadn’t realised I was holding, my fingers still curled around the edge of the sink.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “You’re okay.” I nodded to myself and turned the temperature down on the oven before glancing at the wall clock and hastily wiping my hands on a tea towel. I quietly rushed to the lounge room as the shower turned on. Switching the television on, I flicked through the channels before stopping on the Friday night football game. My heart skipped a beat as the team ran around the field during the fourth quarter. I sat down in front of the TV, clutching the heart pendant around my neck as the familiar face of Jackson Easton filled out the screen.

There you are.

Two years ago, he appeared on the television like a mirage. In fact, I wasn't certain it was him until they displayed his name at the bottom.

Jackson Easton.

Number fourteen.

I remembered my stomach dropping so fast, it felt like I had missed a step. I kept watching the screen without blinking, feeling like I was falling the whole time as Wayne cursed when they missed a goal. I excused myself at one point and cried in the shower. Seeing him again was agonising at first—now, it was what I looked forward to all week.

As captain of the West Coast Kangaroos, I was able to see his face and hear his name almost any time I turned the telly on during the football season. He was still incredibly tall and ridiculously handsome, but he was now covered in tattoos. His signature mullet was gone, and he’d even grown a moustache. He was a man now. Handsome, even. And one that still owned every inch of my heart, but that was something that would never change.

The screen flickered as he leapt into the air, taking a mark clean over another player and landing like it was nothing at all. I smiled as the crowd erupted into a sea of whoops and cheers. “Unbelievable from Easton!” the commentator yelled. Jackson had helped bring the team from the eighteenth position on the ladder to number one within a year, and now they were so close to winning the premiership, it was basically guaranteed at this point. I knew he was living his dream, so it made me incredibly proud to see him thriving. Even…though it wasn’t with me.

“Easton’s incredible out there tonight,” the commentator commended as Jackson sprinted and ran straight towards the open goal. I watched as the crowd went crazy, posters of his face raised high above their heads as they celebrated the sixty-point lead. I looked towards the bathroom door, the light under the door a sliver of safety. Wayne didn’t allow me to watch the TV without asking first, but I had to see Jackson. I felt sick when I missed out on watching his games. My stomach would be in knots and I’d struggle to focus. He was still my anchor, even when he was oceans away from me.

The game ended and the news started straight after. I sat through two minutes of local stories before my picture popped up beside the news anchor. My stomach dropped before my brain caught up as my younger face stared back at me, her eyes wide with happiness and naivety.

“It's been seven years since eighteen-year-old Evie Rosen was abducted by The Skinner,” the anchor said. “Her brother, Peter Rosen, was recently appointed Senior Investigating Officer on the case to capture the elusive serial killer. The Swanford police are now offering a reward for any information regarding the disappearances of Liam Anderson, Christopher Allen, and Evie Rosen. We now go live to the press conference.”

I huffed out a disorientated laugh, shaking my head in confusion. What did she just say? The words didn’t feel real at first; they felt like they were coming from somewhere far away. My ears began to ring and my head weighed heavy as a tall man wearing a navy blue uniform stepped forward and adjusted the microphone before leaning into it.

“Good afternoon. Thank you for attending. My name is Detective Peter Rosen, Senior Investigating Officer with the Major Crimes Unit. Today, I’m here to provide an update on the ongoing investigation into the offender known publicly as The Skinner, and to make a renewed appeal to the public for information.”

Peter?

“As many of you are aware, this individual has been linked to a series of murders spanning several years. While most victims have been recovered, there are still families waiting without answers. Today, we are focusing on two of those victims. Liam Anderson, aged twenty-two, was last seen three months ago outside a backpacker’s accommodation on East Street. He had been travelling through Perth and was due to fly home shortly after his disappearance. One of the now-infamous letters was found in his room after he failed to show up for his flight,” Peter said.