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A movement near the shed caught her attention; she tensed and then relaxed as a small wallaby hopped across to the trees. Another yawn reminded her she should go to bed as did the slight throbbing of her hand.
On the way to the guest bedroom, she double-checked the doors that Cy had locked when they had come inside. Then she checked the windows in each room, except for the bedroom Cy was in.
After Tarni was sure the house was secure, she went back to the kitchen and found a Ziplock bag. She covered her hand and clipped as much of the bag together as she could one-handed and had the best wash she could manage without getting the bandage wet.
Dressing in her pyjamas, she folded the bed back before she went back to the kitchen to refill her glass from the water purifier. Her mouth was very dry; it must be from the strong painkillers she’d taken this afternoon. She opened the pantry cupboard to take out the plastic jug she’d been using to refill the water purifier all week. Lifting the lid of the stone urn, she frowned. Water lapped the rim of the porcelain insert.
She must be losing the plot. She could have sworn it was almost empty this morning and didn’t remember refilling it. With a shrug, she hoped the same memory lapse didn’t apply to the front doors. Maybe she hadn’t locked them.
Tarni was still frowning as she filled her water glass and took the box of painkillers from her handbag on the kitchen bench. Once she was back in her room, she shut the door, climbed into bed and was asleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.
***
Cy lay in bed for a long time before he went to sleep. Tarni came down the hall and he listened as she pottered around the house checking the doors and windows he’d already checked. If it hadn’t been for the gate being open, he might not have believed that she had locked the doors, but someone had been there.
Nothing appeared to be missing; it was strange.
He rolled over and thumped the pillow. Seeing Joe this afternoon for what he knew would be the last time had rattled him. The gaunt, sallow man lying in the bed was not the loud, argumentative father he remembered. Joe had been half-lucid and had slept for over half the time Cy had been with him.
Cy’s emotions were in chaos. As much as he hated his father for what he done during his life, Joe’s greeting had thrown him. As he walked into the room, he’d struggled to sit up, but failed and flopped back onto the pillow, breathing heavily, his words slurred.
‘I’m sorry, son. So sorry. Please forgive me.’
Cy had sat in the chair beside him as Joe drifted in and out of sleep. His speech rambled, but the gist of it was easy to follow.
‘I messed up my life, and yours.’ Once he’d called him Colin, and then Suzanne. His dreams and his reality were mixed up. ‘I paid the price, son.’
‘You started to pay the price anyway, getting caught.’ Cy couldn’t help himself. ‘I wonder if you’d be sorry if you hadn’t been caught?’
‘No, the cancer is my punishment.’
‘Nuh. Lots of good people get cancer and die.’ Cy’s voice was husky.
‘I made mistakes.’ Joe’s breath wheezed as he tried to sit up, but Cy pushed his gently so that Joe’s head was back on the pillow. ‘Bad father. Bridget screwed me up. I was vindicative.’
Cy leaned forward and put his head in his hands. He didn’t need to revisit all this. He tensed at Joe’s next words.
‘I told Colin I killed her when he had his heart attack out in the bush.’ Joe closed his eyes and fought for breath. ‘Told him I would have killed those kids too, after he left her, that Dee girl, half the bloody station. But he got what he deserved, the bastard. He hurt my sister but he could never acknowledge his daughter.’ His eyes glazed when Cy looked at him. ‘She should have been mine, Colin. You took Bridget off me.’ His eyelids dropped again. When he opened his eyes again, they were clearer. ‘Cy? Come closer.’
Cy moved the plastic chair closer to the bed. His chest was tight and his throat ached, but still, he didn’t regret coming.
‘I know I haven’t got long, son, but it would ease me greatly if you would forgive me. I will get what I deserve when I go.’
Cy’s eyes blurred with tears. He had to remember the good times, the jokes, watching football games with Joe, travelling around with him; all the good things before he’d discovered his father was a murderer.
‘I forgive you, Dad.’ He stood and walked to the door, and when he looked back, his father’s face was peaceful.
Chapter 23
McLaren Mango Farm - Monday
Cy
Cy woke early the next morning. He’d had very little sleep; he’d been listening for Tarni for most of the night and worrying about who’d broken in. His senses had been on high alert and at least it took his mind off Joe.
He drifted into a restless sleep at dawn and was woken up soon after by his phone buzzing.
‘Cy Prescott,’ he said sleepily.
