The Serpent's Skin by Erina Reddan (top 5 books to read .txt) 📕

‘He’s been hid—’

‘JJ!’ He bunched his fists in the air and waved them in frustration. ‘It’s not about what you can get away with—’

‘Not even Jenna knew.’

‘Whether our client knows or doesn’t know how we get information on her ex is irrelevant and you know it. Your charm and brilliance won’t keep protecting you if you keep crossing lines.’ He waved a hand at the police station we were leaving behind. ‘Despite Maurice’s undying devotion, there is a part of him that’s got to be wondering if you’re too much trouble.’

‘The cops only gave me a warning so it’ll be okay.’ But I was deflating now, all the raw and rise subsiding on the tide of this truth.

‘You attacked the security guard.’

‘Not real—’ I tried to break in to protest.

‘If you’d had the actual file in your hands, you’d be up for theft of government property.’

‘But it wasn’t.’ I couldn’t match his force, though, because he was correct.

‘Wait.’ He stopped in the street and spun around to squarely face me. He grabbed my forearms. ‘You knew all that.’

I scrunched my face.

‘What the fuck, JJ? You were willing to screw up your career.’

‘It wasn’t exactly a thought-through—’

‘Shut up, JJ.’ His palms in the air. ‘You went to your aunty’s funeral last Thursday.’ He ticked off one on his fingers. ‘You avoid me all weekend.’ Two. ‘You come in late, leave early, then stop coming to work altogether.’ Three. ‘I didn’t realise this was going to set you off like this.’

‘If you don’t like the view you don’t have to stick around.’

He slapped his thigh. ‘Get some perspective.’

‘My mother died when I was ten and my dad’s been lying about it ever since.’

His face came to millimetres from mine, long eyelashes getting there before him. ‘Get—the—fuck—over—it.’

My hand reflexed up to push him away, but he grabbed my forearm. We stared at each other, locked in intensity.

I broke first, twisting my arm out of his grip. ‘I thought you were on my side.’

‘I am.’ He didn’t blink.

‘This is what being on my side means. I’m going to find out.’

‘Then get the fuck smarter about it.’

We picked up fried rice, went to the newsagent for butcher’s paper and textas and other getting-smarter stuff, and headed back to mine. The itch in me to start on Tye’s plan meant we only spent a few minutes saying hi to Marge on the way through, but Rocco was with her so I didn’t feel too bad.

Tye was right. I’d been too messy. I’d only acted on part of Maurice’s stare-down-the-facts mantra. I had to get methodical. Tye and I set about establishing a clear record of everything we did and didn’t have. By the end of the night, we had a wall covered in butcher’s paper mapping out everything I remembered about Mum’s disappearance. I was the queen of categories, so it took a while to come up with an information matrix I was happy with: red for facts, blue for memory, green for opinions, yellow for vague ideas and grey for whatever else. On the other wall, above the side of my bed, we made a timeline of Mum’s movements those last days. Fact-red only that side. At just after two in the morning, we took our bleary eyes for a walk around everything we had.

The ocean of empty between Mum leaving Peg’s place at three-twenty-five and her time of death in the small hours of the night six days later funnelled its empty into my veins.

But Tye shook me by the shoulders. ‘That’s the point of this exercise, JJ.’ His lovely voice soothing my inflamed insides. ‘To fill up all that empty.’

THE MISSING PAGES

Tye hadn’t wanted to make my excuses at work on Friday. Was worried about the Stintini case. Was worried that I wasn’t. I was. Just not enough any more. He covered for me anyway. Said he’d check in with Suze and see where she was up to. He could see I needed to find something concrete to put on the Map of Mum. Had agreed there might be something in Peg’s diaries if Dad had gone to the trouble of stealing them. Had helped me take the Map of Mum off the wall and fold it into my backpack. But on the way to Dad’s I got more and more wound up because I was doing the exact opposite of what Tessa wanted. But maybe, as Tye said, even if this wasn’t what she wanted, this is what she needed. Pumping the radio up to blasting volume didn’t help, so I was glad when I arrived and turned down the track to Dad’s. I parked the Austin about halfway up between the trees and in the bushes, hidden nicely from roving eyes.

Now that I was stopped, though, I found I didn’t want to get out and face what was waiting. The car was a turtle-shell protection around me and my fingers thrummed against the steering wheel. My mind, skittish as a foal, darting forwards and back. The house in the distance hooded and watchful: blinds drawn against the heat. It probably knew I was the enemy by now or was there still a loyalty to Mum in between its cracks?

A bird flew straight at me, tearing away from the windscreen at the last second. It got so close I saw right into the bead of its black eye. I wound up the window and knuckled into my palm. It was only a few seconds later that the heat tumbled me out of the car.

I kept behind the tree line, out of sight in case Dad wasn’t where he should have been, but it wasn’t as straightforward as I’d planned. The grass was long and snaky between the trees and the fence, and my feet got caught in it. In the far end of the paddock a cow caught me in its eyeline. I froze, but it