You Had It Coming by B.M. Carroll (best fiction novels .TXT) 📕

Megan exudes an air of quiet capability that Bridget remembers from last time. Her brother descends from the ladder, a tin of paint dangling from his hand. He has tattoos on both arms and a stare that’s as hostile as his mum’s. Megan’s family are clearly not fans of the police. Is it because they felt let down by the justice system during the trial, or is it something more systemic than that?

‘Inside would be good.’

Bridget and Sasha follow Megan inside. Cardboard boxes line the hallway. The walls are bare and freshly painted.

‘Are you moving house?’ Bridget asks, taking in the evidence.

‘Yeah. Selling up after thirty years.’

Moving home after such a long time is a big decision. Are Megan and her family drawing a line of some description? Selling the family home, and at the same time settling old scores?

‘Can I get you something to drink?’ Megan asks, grimacing at the half-packed kitchen.

‘We’re fine, thanks. You’re busy, so we’ll try to keep this short. Are you aware that Thomas Malouf died on Thursday night?’

Megan’s face is an open book: confusion wrestling with genuine shock.

‘Oh my God! William Newson and Thomas Malouf are both dead?’ Her voice is faint, incredulous.

Bridget nods and continues to scrutinise her face. ‘I spoke to Jessica this morning. Actually, I thought she might have called to let you know we’d been around.’

Megan rests one hand against the edge of the counter. Short nails. Sturdy fingers. Hands that have saved lives. ‘Jess and I aren’t in regular contact. We spoke when William Newson died but that was the first time in years.’

Bridget decides not to pussyfoot around. ‘Did Jessica ever say anything to you about wanting either of those two men dead?’

Colour floods Megan’s face. ‘Emotions were running high at the time … I said some pretty bad things too …’

That’s as good as a yes. The thing is, Jessica has a watertight alibi for both nights.

‘How about Jessica’s family? Did they make any threats?’

‘Not that I’m aware of. Her family are the opposite of hot-headed. She’s different from them.’

‘What about Jessica’s boyfriend?’

‘You mean Alex?’

‘Yes, Alex. Does he strike you as the type to take justice into his own hands?’

She blinks. ‘I barely know him. As I said, Jess and I haven’t been close.’

There’s something in her tone. Why did these two stop being friends? Was it something to do with Alex?

Bridget hears the murmur of voices from outside. ‘What about your family, Megan? Did they make any threats?’

Another surge of colour. ‘As I said, emotions were running high, everyone was upset …’

‘Do you know where your brother was on Tuesday twentieth of August?’

‘Seb was in Melbourne – he lives there. He’s visiting this weekend, to help. We haven’t seen him since last Christmas.’

‘How about your mother?’

‘Mum was here. She’s always here on weeknights. She’s like clockwork.’

‘Did you actually see her on that night?’

Megan takes a moment to cast her mind back. ‘She was in bed when I came home. I remember feeling relieved. I wasn’t in the mood to talk.’

Bridget can easily imagine herself in Roslyn Lowe’s shoes. A man hurting her beloved daughter, and escaping justice. Her rage would have no boundaries.

Megan frowns, her gaze hopping between Bridget and Sasha. ‘There’s something that might be important … Joshua Newson tracked me down. He sent flowers and a card saying he wanted to talk. Lucas, my colleague, spoke to him. Joshua seemed very concerned about what his father might have said during his last moments …’

Bridget is momentarily thrown; Joshua Newson hasn’t been much on her mind the last few days. ‘But Mr Newson didn’t regain consciousness, did he?’

‘That’s what Lucas told him. I think Joshua knows exactly who I am. He didn’t really want to talk to Lucas – he wanted to talk to me.’

Megan could be on to something. Bridget nods at Sasha: another strand for the young detective to run with, see where it leads.

Bridget thanks Megan, and at the same time reminds herself of the importance of staying neutral. Down-to-earth, get-on-with-the-job, calm and helpful: it would be easy to be fooled by Megan’s apparent good qualities.

‘I like that shade of grey,’ Bridget says to Roslyn, pausing when she gets outside. ‘What’s the name of the colour?’

The older woman presses her lips together. She is the epitome of barely restrained anger.

Megan answers on her behalf. ‘Ashville grey. It’s nice, isn’t it?’

Today has thrown Jess’s boyfriend, Alex, into focus, and there is also the need to double-back on Joshua Newson. But standing in front of Bridget is the personification of another cold hard fact. A mother’s love is a force of nature: primal, fierce and boundless.

YOU HAD IT COMING.

Is it possible that Roslyn etched those letters into the gum tree, to remind herself of the reason why she was about to cross the most abominable of lines?

29

MEGAN

‘What did they want?’ Roslyn demands, watching the detectives getting into their car.

Megan is overdue a discussion with her mum, but this is hardly the ideal time, with Seb halfway up the ladder and heaps to get through before his flight tonight. She keeps her answer simple, brief.

‘Thomas Malouf died on Thursday night, and William Newson was shot a few weeks ago. The police believe their deaths are related. Maybe something to do with the trial.’

Colour infuses Roslyn’s face. ‘What? The trial was twelve years ago, for God’s sake. Why can’t they leave us alone? Haven’t we been through enough?’

‘They’re just doing their job, Mum. Sometimes they have to ask uncomfortable questions. Two men are dead. Their families are owed some answers.’

‘Families?’ she splutters. ‘Since when did they start caring about families? They never cared about us. They ruined us. They made you look like the criminal, and your father, your poor father …’ She flings the sandpaper block away. ‘I’m going inside.’

‘Don’t be upset, Mum. This is just routine.’

Roslyn opens and closes her mouth, as though words fail her. Then she’s gone, and Megan and Seb are left looking at