He must have picked up the annoyance in my voice. As if to make up for his lapse, he rushes to the gate and barks like a hellhound.
“Now you’re barking? Chasing possums now?”
I rush after him and bend down to clip him to the leash. The last thing I need is a dog going AWOL. Not today. When I stand up again, I hear the sounds of an approaching car.
“Good boy.”
Prince redeemed himself. I give him a few scratches behind the ear to make him feel good and to get my tension under control. Who can that be?
A police car appears in our clearing and stops at the gate. Ever since the police raided our house eighteen months ago because they thought we murdered our lawyer we get goosebumps when we see one of their cars. That’s silly, I know. There are some rotten apples among them, like everywhere, but we’ve met some amazing police officers since the kidnapping.
A police officer gets out of the car and tips his hat.
“Good morning. I’m looking for Ms. Seagar.”
“I’m Ms. Seagar. What can I do for you, Officer?”
He shows me his badge.
“I’m Detective Sergeant Parker. We are investigating the arson attack on Mr. Thompson. I spoke with him yesterday afternoon and he mentioned you saw two pick-up trucks coming down the valley from the direction of Mr. Thompson’s cabin.”
“Yes, I did. I’d picked up our friend coming from Port Somers. We had to swerve to the roadside to make space for the trucks speeding toward us. It was a miracle we didn’t end up in the ditch.”
“Were you able to see the passengers?”
He has such a hopeful expression; I hate to disappoint him.
“There wasn’t time. They drove so fast, I had to react quickly to avoid a collision. There were three people in the first truck and two or three in the second. The vehicles were covered in dirt. That’s why we first thought they must have been from DOC, you know, doing lots of off-road driving and going through riverbeds. But DOC said they had no people in the region that day.”
“I guess you couldn’t make out a number plate.”
“No, everything went too quickly. It must have been older vehicles because the paintwork on the hoods was dirty white with blue patches.”
He closed his notebook and looked around. “You have a beautiful spot here. Aren’t you a bit concerned living by yourself out here, after next door’s arson attack?”
I shake my head and pull Prince a little closer.
“Prince is usually good at letting us know when someone approaches the house.”
I stop. Shall I tell him about this morning? I glance over at the officer. I haven’t seen him before. He’s probably the replacement for the corrupt officers who helped cover up the Gateway pedophile organization.
“Although, he didn’t warn me this morning when someone put two dead possums on my doorstep. Maybe he’s getting old?”
The young officer frowns and takes his time to look around again.
“You don’t have cats?”
I shake my head.
“Possums are too big for cats. Anyhow, cats don’t use firearms. The possums were shot. I put them on the compost in the back if you want to check them.”
“If you don’t mind. You are sure none of your friends could have pulled a practical joke?”
“My only friend is in hospital.”
He rubs his chin and looks at Prince. “He’s not that old. Is it possible he knew the person who did it?”
I hadn’t looked at it from that perspective. “That’s a scary thought. I’m relying on Prince for my security. Mr. Thompson installed all sorts of lights and alarms, but all of those can be disabled by a person who knows what they’re doing.”
“There isn’t much I can do at the moment, other than informing the team at the next meeting about the dead possums. We might dispatch a patrol car once or twice a day until we solve the arson case, but I can’t promise anything.”
“Thank you very much. To know you take the matter seriously is already a relief.”
“We’ll stay in touch. Either myself or someone else from our team.”
“Thanks, Officer Parker.”
I watch him drive off until the trees at the end of our clearing swallow him and his car. I return to the house and sit on the iron chair near the front door. Prince puts his head on my knees. I stroke him. My thoughts, however, are miles away, searching for the unknown person who wishes us ill.
“Do you know the person who put the possums at the door?” Prince licks my hand but I don’t think it means anything other than he just likes licking and he loves me.
Nobody from the Tribe is talking to me. Everything is quiet inside my head. They are such chickens! So, it’s back to good old Lilly getting things done.
My rumbling stomach reminds me that I haven’t had breakfast yet. It’s still early and I have hours until I am expected at the hospital. I’m going to get breakfast in town and then pop over to the cemetery to say hello to Auntie Amanda and the parents.
Chapter Sixteen
Lilly, 14 March 2017, Late Morning, Port Somers
I’m not sure how I feel about the police becoming my bosom buddies. Not that I have anything to compare them to. I never had one; bosom buddy that is. When a lively bunch of other’s living inside your head, the issue of outside friends is—putting it mildly—confusing. Remember a lion tamer in the circus in the olden days when showing off wild animals was still okay? Yip. Just like that. Fifty lions of all sizes and no-one with a hat and a whip to keep them in order.
The other thing is, it’s hard to keep track of who’s friends with whom. Imagine the chaos because we all, without exception, have very different tastes and needs in friendships. What would a friend of Amadeus’ compare to a friend of Maddie’s? I remember when we were
