“No, I did not think it was her,” said Logan. “Not for a minute. She’s fine.”
“It’s too long now,” said Troy. “She’s been gone too long. We need to forget the whole ‘Mum is making a point’ theory.”
“All we can do is support Dad,” said Brooke.
“Not if he murdered our mother, we can’t,” said Troy.
Brooke said, “Shhhh!” She pointed at the back door of the house. Presumably Stan was inside. “Don’t say things like that. People can tell you have suspicions, or doubts, or whatever the hell you’ve got. They’re analyzing our body language online. When we had the media conference you and Amy stepped away from Dad. It looked bad.”
“I was not stepping away from Dad,” said Amy. “I felt dizzy. I thought I was going to faint.”
“If you’re so worried about optics, maybe you should have got Dad to join the search party,” said Troy to Brooke.
“Dad thought it was a waste of time,” said Brooke. “He said there wasn’t a snowflake’s chance in hell Mum would have ridden in the reserve, because she wrote to the council saying it was the wrong place for a bike track and she never forgave them for not listening to her.”
“Mum does get offended when the council don’t listen to her recommendations,” commented Amy.
“Do you even care about Mum?” Troy suddenly turned on Brooke, and Jacob flinched at the fury on his face. “Are you even worried?”
“Of course she cares,” said Amy. “Don’t be so mean to her.”
“I’m frantic about Mum.” Brooke spoke through clenched teeth at her brother. She did
n’t seem at all intimidated by Troy’s fury.
“It seems like you’re more worried about setting Dad up with a fucking lawyer!”
“It’s just in case,” said Logan to Troy. “Dad doesn’t even want a lawyer.”
“In case what?” cried Troy. “In case he’s guilty of murder?”
Jacob was frozen on the spot, his hands slippery under the baking dish.
“She’s my mother too,” hissed Brooke. She slammed her fist so hard on the table that it rocked, and Logan had to catch the side to stop it falling. “You live half your life in America and don’t even call her for weeks on end!”
“I call her all the time!”
“You do not!”
“Well, the truth is none of us had called her lately,” murmured Amy at the same time as Logan sighed heavily and said, “This is getting us nowhere.”
Troy stood up abruptly. He did a double take when he saw Jacob standing on the lawn like a loon. “Hi, Jacob.”
“Sorry,” said Jacob idiotically. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Mum asked me to bring this casserole for your dad.” He held it out as proof, and the glass lid wobbled alarmingly. My mother overcooked it on the off-chance your dad is a murderer.
“Whoa.” Troy stepped off the veranda and grabbed the baking dish from him. “That’s really nice of your mum, tell her thank you.”
“I’ll get Dad for you,” said Amy. “We’re all just waiting for him to clean up. He’s inside, uh, painting the bathroom.”
“Like you do,” said Troy. He held the baking dish easily under one arm like a football. “When your wife is missing. Great time to renovate.”
“Jesus, Troy,” said Logan under his breath.
“Don’t disturb your dad. I’ll leave you to it.” Jacob backed away fast. “I hope—I hope you get good news soon.” He held up two tightly crossed fingers. Like a fool.
The four Delaney siblings looked back at him gravely. They did not look like people expecting good news anytime soon. They looked like people waiting for a funeral to start.
As he walked back to his mother’s place he wondered what could have happened last Christmas that was either relevant or irrelevant to the police.