Chapter 34
“Could we drive a little faster?” Estella finally snapped.
Vera, of course, didn’t respond. Whether she sped up or not was debatable, but she was staying infuriatingly close to the speed limit.
If Estella wasn’t so damn stressed she’d possibly find it endearing.
Vera had the face and musculature of a killer and the soul of a law-abiding grandmother.
Estella tried not to explode at her lack of urgency.
To keep herself calm she tried to think of legitimate reasons why Vera would work for criminals yet refuse to break the law.
She remembered, with a jolt, that Ted Bundy had been caught because of a faulty brake-light.
Maybe it wasn’t for grandmotherly reasons that Vera zealously followed some laws.
She sat up straighter, casting a side-eyed glance at her newest bodyguard.
The drive from Gold Hill back to Melbourne was distressing enough even for the most regular of people, she figured.
Leaving a cute little holiday paradise behind, watching the landscape fade from lush forest, to golden pasture, to grimy outer suburban hellscape.
She wondered, though, how many others experienced it quite like she had.
The last time she’d made this journey, it had similarly been a furious dash, driven by a maniac.
The trip out had been a desperate race out to Gold Hill to save the life of Alison Hartmann, while chaos exploded back in the city.
On their return, there’d been Devo’s blood pooling across the backseat, Ken silent and grim, knuckles white on the wheel.
She’d been racing back to Melbourne to try to uphold her once watertight alibi, the death of her husband imminent. What times.
This trip was its own kind of race, even with what should technically be lower stakes.
It didn’t hold the risk of prison or her own messy fight for survival, but other far more innocent lives might just be hanging in the balance.
She shouldn’t have left this so long, but she’d heard Ellie asking for her, had seen the fear and hurt in her eyes and those aching bruises blooming on her delicate skin.
Somehow, she couldn’t even make herself let go of her hand, let alone leave.
Ellie had been long asleep by the time Estella had shaken herself properly awake from her indulgent doze at the bedside and pulled herself into action.
By then it was already solidly morning, and three sets of eyes had immediately fixed on her as she’d arrived into the beautiful, open-plan living area, the scent of coffee warm in the air.
There was Ellie’s friend Hugo — his face famous enough that Estella had immediately recognised him on arrival in the middle of the night — his silver-haired partner Harry, and a local doctor who had large, long-lashed, dark eyes full of curiosity and judgement.
All three paused stock still as if her presence had cast a spell.
“Can I have one of those?” Estella asked, into the silence. “Please.”
Harry came to life and poured her a coffee, thick and black, just how she liked it.
“How is she?” Hugo had said grudgingly, like it pained him to have to ask her.
“Asleep,” she said. She felt, to her deep confusion, her cheeks flushing pink as she said the word.
As if saying it were to acknowledge openly in a room full of these strangers that she was the person who Ellie Graham wanted to watch over her while she slept, to hold her hand tightly as she’d drifted off.
It was impossibly exposing. She took a solid swig of her coffee, grateful for the heat rushing down her throat.
She was also starving. Harry placed a plain croissant on a plate and handed it to her, so perhaps her stomach had growled out loud on her behalf.
He seemed to hate her less than everyone else and to her surprise, she actually cared about this.
“Thank you,” she said, and he met her eyes and nodded.
The room was excruciatingly silent as she bit into the warm flaky pastry.
All she could hear was the sound of her own chewing.
The three strangers all took turns stealing glances at her, at each other, and into their own cups of coffee, yet no one said a word.
Estella thought she had a sky-high tolerance for public scrutiny, but right now she felt an uncharacteristic wish for the floor to swallow her. Why did she even care?
She decided to out-brazen them, eating the entire croissant in quick neat bites and forcing herself to swallow, washing it down with fast full sips.
Everyone watched closely. There must be very little entertainment in a town like Gold Hill, she decided.
She took a breath, and everyone looked electrified, ready to hear what she might say.
She leaned in and looked around, meeting all their eyes in turn.
“Do you have a couple of to-go cups?” she asked.
Harry immediately busied himself with pouring two cups of black coffee, as efficient and serious as a nurse. She topped up one with milk and two sugars, then neatly stacked another croissant on top of the lid. Harry held up a hand to stop her, then gravely handed her a napkin.
“Thank you,” she said again. She turned to look sharply at the doctor.
“Take care of her.” The woman looked back steadily but didn’t confirm or deny.
Estella trusted her even more for her refusal to be pushed around by a thug.
She looked briefly around the room. It was beautiful here, morning light splashing onto the polished original floorboards, a dazzling array of flowers bobbing their bright dewy heads just outside the windows.
Despite the frosty reception she wished she could stay here with them all. What a life.
She wanted to say thank you for the hospitality, but she knew it would come off as sarcastic, highlighting their lack of small talk or smiles.
But the thing was, she actually meant it.
It took a particular kind of person to say yes to the type of phone call she’d put Hugo through last night.
Of course Ellie Graham would have friends like that.
Instead, she just nodded at them, picked up both coffees and the delicately balanced pastry, and headed out the front door.
“Here,” she said, shoving the milky sugary coffee and croissant at Vera, who’d apparently chosen to sleep in the driver’s seat of the car.
If she’d slept at all. Still, Vera expertly managed caffeine, pastry and navigating the narrow country roads all at once, and if they’d also found themselves in a sudden gun battle, Estella was pretty sure she’d manage that too.
Even Vera looked exhausted, however, as they finally made it through the forest and fields, factories and strip malls, suburbs and suburbs, to pull up, at last, outside their destination.
Estella took a long deep breath. She’d brushed herself off for croissant crumbs at least four times but she still seemed to keep finding them.
Her dress was crumpled and bloodstained and she could smell the scent of her own body: unshowered, fearful sweat.
She reached down to grab a lipstick out of her handbag but when she pulled down overhead mirror she realised it was a waste of time.
She looked like shit, and lipstick would only make it worse.
This meeting was going to be fucking terrifying no matter what and looking hot would do nothing to help her either way.
So finally, she just sighed and got out of the car, woozy with exhaustion.
She opened the gate, walked up the path, her heels ringing out over the wooden porch and knocked on the door.
There was yelling from somewhere deep in the house, until finally, the door swung open and Estella looked straight into the eyes of Arthur Graham.
“Hi,” he said. Estella stared. He reminded her of a half-grown cygnet, part baby-fuzz, part swan. His body was gangly, his jaw soft and his brows heavy. Both ears were pierced like he belonged in a boy band. His eyes were Ellie’s eyes.
“Hi,” Estella said, and then she just stared.
She was actually pretty good with kids, usually, with stacks of Mike’s nieces and nephews to practice on.
But sometime in the last twenty-four hours, she’d forgotten how to human.
Arthur stared back. He stretched out one socked foot and traced shapes on the doorstep with his toe.
“Are you here for my mum?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said, but Ellie’s sister was already walking down the hall. Estella saw the exact moment Zara Graham’s eyes went wide. She grabbed hold of her son’s arm like she was pulling him back from the edge of a cliff.
“Into your room,” she said urgently. “Right now.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Arthur hissed. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
“For god’s sake, Arthur, this isn’t the time!
” Zara’s voice was high. Arthur’s eyes darted from her to Estella.
It wasn’t clear which face convinced him to obey his mother, but he turned, slowly disappearing into a room off the hall and closed the door behind him.
Zara stepped out onto the doorstep, blocking entry.
Estella approved. She was trying to put space between her child and a dangerous criminal.
Estella didn’t even try and look non-threatening. She had blood on her dress after all.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” she told Zara matter-of-factly, even as the woman’s eyes stayed narrow. “Or your son.”
“Where’s Ellie?” Zara’s tough voice cracked. Her hands had started shaking. “Oh my god, what have you done to Ellie?”
“She’s safe, I promise,” Estella said. “But you might not be. Especially not if I’m seen here on your doorstep. Can we talk inside?”
Zara had grown pale, her skin tone just like her sister’s, even though she was shorter and less curvy.
She was angular in the way a bird was, flighty and delicate.
She looked out at her quiet suburban street, at Vera sitting menacingly in the car across the road.
She swallowed convulsively and reluctantly stepped back to let Estella in.
“Go back in your room, Arthur!” Zara hissed immediately once they were in the hall.
Estella heard a loud huff and the bedroom door closed again.
For some reason, it made her want to smile, imagining a teenage Ellie.
Zara led the way down a hallway cluttered with stray shoes and coats on hooks, into a comfortable if untidy living room.
It smelled like fresh toast, a couple of discarded plates still on the dining table surrounded by paperback books, a sketch pad and a packet of colouring pencils spread across the dark wood.
So this was where Ellie sometimes lived.
She felt like she was invading her privacy even while part of her was absurdly grateful for the glimpse.
“I didn’t know you were coming or I would have cleaned,” Zara said flatly as they surveyed the living room together.
“If you’d known I was coming, you’d have left town,” Estella corrected her, aiming for levity, and oh my god, why was she trying to joke with Ellie’s sister? Zara didn’t laugh.
“Please tell me what’s going on.”
Estella stood in the living room waiting for an invitation that didn’t come. She remembered then who the fuck she was and took her own seat at Zara’s table. Zara pulled out the seat opposite, her hands before her on the table like she was being interrogated.
“Ellie’s okay,” Estella said firmly, “but she was attacked last night.” Zara drew in a gasp, her breath going shaky.
She looked sick. Estella filled the gaps before Zara could start sobbing out questions she didn’t want to answer.
“She has a bang to the head and a bunch of bruises, but nothing worse. She’s safe now, I promise.
We didn’t want to bring her here because she didn’t want anyone being led to you. ”
“Who’s we?” Zara choked. “Why are you here? Did you do this to her?”
“No.” Estella held her gaze, long and steady. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“But it’s because of you. This role. Right? Playing you is why she got hurt?”
“Someone wanted to send me a message,” Estella confirmed. “They used your sister to deliver it. I’m sorry.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s with Hugo. Out of town. He’s taking care of her. There’s a doctor there too, who’s checked her out.”
Zara nodded. She took a shaky breath and looked down at the table.
She shook her head, and Estella braced herself for the next screed of questions she really didn’t want to answer.
But when Zara lifted her head, her brown eyes blazed with fury.
“So what are you going to do about it?” Her tone was fierce and Estella didn’t have to ask what she meant.
“I’ll take care of it.” Estella met her eyes as calmly as she could. Zara didn’t even flinch.
“Tell me that you’ll fucking kill them for this. That you’ll find them, and you’ll kill them.”
Estella and Zara faced off over the table.
Zara was shaking, her skin pale and her jaw clenched.
Estella stayed very still. “I’ll take care of it,” she promised again.
“This won’t go unpunished.” She thought of Ellie’s injuries and gritted her teeth.
She had a job to do first. “Please go and get your son and pack a bag.”