Caged

2-1

2

Shelley’s tiny hands clasped mine. “Thank you so much.” Even with the doorstep allowing her a five-inch advantage, she still had to tip back her head to meet my eyes.

“You sure you’re going to be okay, on your own?”

The small nod she gave contradicted the hesitant glance over her shoulder toward the empty house. “Gabe might come back, right?”

I fought the urge to shrug. “Right.”

“Someone should stay here ... just in case.” She sounded more like she needed to convince herself than me.

“Yes.” I didn’t need persuading. Someone should stay, for that very reason.

“Okay.” She released my hands. “Okay.”

I turned to leave and found Dad and Sean’s attention on our exchange from inside the pickup.

“Promise you’ll ring,” she said, “if you hear anything.”

“Sure,” I said over my shoulder, and strode off down the path.

Sean and Dad tracked my route, my climb into the truck, and my reach to insert the key in the ignition.

“You two got something going on?” Sean asked from the rear seat.

A twist of my wrist, and the engine grumbled alive. “Nope.”

“But you like her.”

I stared straight ahead, rolling my shoulders. “Where to now?”

“Just drive,” Dad said. “I have a phone call to make.”

After sending Shelley a quick smile of assurance, I pulled away from the kerb.

“You been getting jiggy with Shelley when you visit?” Sean asked, as Dad fiddled with his phone.

“Nope.” I shifted from second to third gear.

A ringtone echoed from the passenger seat. I glanced across, as Dad lifted his hand to his ear.

“I don’t believe you,” Sean said.

I shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“I thought your visits were to support Gabe, not his mum.”

I blanked him as Dad’s phone call connected, and a deep bass of a voice answered, “Yes,” the word reaching my enhanced hearing with ease.

“Jack?” Dad said. “Nathan Holloway.”

“You have news for me?” Jack asked.

Dad gestured for me to take a left. “Nothing good.”

I flicked the indicator up, swung the wheel hard enough to sway Sean, and chuckled when his head hit Dad’s seat.

Dad glared at me as he gripped the dashboard, but I pretended I hadn’t noticed. “Can we meet?” he asked into the phone. In answer to Jack’s ‘when’, he added, “Now. We’re already in Shrewsbury.”

A pause followed as though our proximity caught him off guard. “You know the Battlegrounds?”

Dad turned to me, but I shook my head. “You have an address, Jack?”

“You’ll get to it from the A-forty-nine. I’ll meet you outside the coffee shop. Twenty minutes.”

***