The Shooting (21 page)

She watched a gamut of emotions chase themselves across Tom’s face. Distrust, confusion—and finally comprehension—followed one after the other.

“You mean you’re… You’re more than eight months pregnant? Is that what you’re saying?”

Lily nodded and clasped her hands protectively around her belly.

“But… That means you fell pregnant while we were still together.” He frowned. “Oh, Christ, the condom… The baby’s mine?”

She nodded again, a little confused at his mumbling, but relieved that he’d comprehended the truth. She would have offered him a smile if his demeanour had given her the slightest hint that he was happy about the discovery he was about to be a father. But instead, Tom’s expression darkened and his frown grew fiercer.

“You
lied
to me? How could you have done such a callous, cold-hearted thing? I asked you if you were pregnant and you told me no!”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he spun away from her, shaking his head in disbelief. A second later, he strode back to her, anger and hurt still clear on his face.

“You claimed to love me,” he scoffed. “Lies and subterfuge. They aren’t the actions of someone in love. During the last couple of weeks we were together you told me your feelings had cooled, that you were too young to be in a relationship—that you wanted out. Stupidly, I believed you and I gave you out, even when everything inside of me wanted to beg you to stay. I loved you enough to let you go…and in return, I discover you lied to me about something so huge… I-I can’t believe you did it.”

His breath came fast. “The truth is, Lily, if you loved me, you would have told me. Nobody keeps news like that from the person they love. We’re talking about a
baby!
Our
baby! It’s totally ludicrous.”

His anger seemed to grow with every turn of phrase until his face was red with shock and disbelief. The more he spoke, the more the reality of the situation appeared to sink in and finally, he shook his head in disgust. It nearly broke Lily’s heart to watch his reaction.

“I’m sorry, Tom. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. The truth is—”

“
Truth?
How can you talk about truth? I’ve just discovered you’re the instigator of the most monstrous lie of my life and you have the audacity to speak to me about truth?” With a vicious curse, he turned away from her again, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of her a moment longer.

Desperation clawed at her insides and she searched around frantically for something to say—anything to wipe the look of shock and betrayal off his face. She looked around them, grateful to discover the schoolyard was mostly empty. Apart from a solitary child crossing the oval to meet a parent at the bottom gate and the groundsman who was emptying trash cans at the far end of the building, they were alone.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Tom.” Her voice cracked and the tears she’d tried so hard to hold at bay slid silently down her cheeks.

He cursed again and when he lifted his gaze to hers, she gasped at the hurt and desolation that shadowed his eyes.

“There’s nothing you can say, Lily. I… I’m sorry. I can’t deal with this right now. I need to get away. I need time to think. I…”

With his lips compressed into a tight thin line, he stopped talking and closed his eyes. A moment later, he opened them and her heart skipped a beat. He stared at her with a look so cold, the chill of it sent shivers coursing through her body. Desperate and defeated, she wondered if she’d ever see him look upon her with love again.

Oh, God, what had she done?
She’d lost the only man she’d ever loved. With a fist pressed against her mouth, she tried to keep the pain of it inside.

“I need to go,” Tom muttered and turned on his heel.

Lily watched him disappear. With a shuddering breath, she leaned against the side of the building and let the deluge of hot tears fall.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Chatswood, Sydney—present day

Cassie twisted a length of dirty blond hair around her finger and swallowed a sigh. It wasn’t that long ago when she washed her hair every other day and now she couldn’t remember the last time she’d attended to it. Her usual glossy locks hung dull and lank around her face, but she couldn’t find the energy or enthusiasm to do anything about it.

Her mom was in hospital, struggling to overcome the damage caused by a bullet wound. Her dad was in surgery. They were operating on him right now to remove a cancerous lump. He hadn’t given her the details, but she’d overheard him talking to her grandparents. It angered her that he didn’t think she was old enough to deal with such news. She was seventeen. She wasn’t a baby. She had a right to know that any moment in her godforsaken life, one or both of her parents could die.

It was a hell of a thing for anyone to face and she wasn’t dealing with it well, although if she were honest, she’d concede the downward spiral had started months before.
 
Every time she closed her eyes and even during some waking hours, she relived with increased ferocity that time she was snatched in broad daylight from the netball courts and taken to a secluded cabin in the woods.

Sometimes, it was a noise, a spoken word, or even a smell that could trigger the flashbacks and she’d relive in crystal-clear detail the horror she felt as the man used a knife to cut open her shirt. The nightmares were escalating beyond her control and she didn’t know what to do about them. And now, both of her parents were clinging to life in the hospital. Her life had gone to hell.

Reaching underneath her bed, her fingers closed around the neck of the rum bottle and she sighed aloud with relief. At least she had something stable in her life. The diminished capacity she got from swilling alcohol was more than worth the thumping headache she’d suffer.

It didn’t matter, anyway. No one expected her to go to school while her parents were both so seriously ill. She’d tell her grandmother she didn’t feel like going, which was the truth. Grandma didn’t have to know it had nothing to do with her mom and dad and everything to do with the bottle of rum she’d all but consumed.

And now she had a little something extra to lift her from the doldrums. Richard Wales, one of the boys in the twelfth grade, had sidled up to her a week ago, before her mom had been shot, and offered her some pills. She’d been a little surprised at his bravery—everyone knew her dad was a cop—but it hadn’t seemed to matter to Richard.

At twenty dollars a pop, they were on the expensive side, but he assured her the buzz she’d feel would be far superior to chilling out on alcohol and she wouldn’t have to deal with the headache afterwards.

She’d been tempted—Richard was kind of cute and one of the more popular boys in school—but in the end, she’d smiled politely and thanked him and had declined his offer. Then, yesterday, after sleeping off another hangover, she’d remembered what he’d said. A call to a friend, who called a friend and Richard had turned up at her door. He’d told her grandma he was a friend of Cassie’s and was there to see if she was all right. He also wanted to give her some study notes from school.

Grandma had fallen for the ruse and the charming smile Richard flashed her way. Cassie had taken him upstairs and within minutes, they’d conducted the mutually satisfying transaction in the privacy of her bedroom. Now, she sat up and tugged open the drawer of her nightstand.

The five little white tablets lay in a small plastic bag, tucked under her English novel. It was lucky she’d stashed her birthday money in her wallet, rather than putting it in the bank, or she’d have never been able to afford so many. Now, she reached out and grabbed the bag and opened it and pulled out one of the pills. She’d already had most of what was left in the rum bottle, but the alcohol seemed to be taking longer to kick in. A little bit of speed was probably just what she needed.

Opening her mouth, she set the pill on her tongue and swallowed it down with a mouthful of rum. With one final gulp, she screwed the lid back on the bottle and tossed it beneath her bed. With a sigh, she lay down on her pillow, closed her eyes and waited for the ecstasy to do its magic.

* * *

Royal North Shore Hospital

Tom heard a murmur of voices and then someone called out his name. The tone was gentle, but insistent. He was zoning out, still mostly asleep and did his best to ignore it, but the voice came again, disturbing a state of comfort he hadn’t felt for days.

“Tom, can you hear me? It’s Tessa. I’m one of the nurses. You’re in recovery, Tom.”

It was a woman’s voice, but it wasn’t Lily. He’d know her voice anywhere. All of a sudden, his memory resurfaced and he frowned. Lily had been shot. Lily was in hospital, Lily still hadn’t woken up.

His chest tightened on a surge of fear and his heart picked up its pace. The nurse—Tessa, he thought she’d said—must have been hovering because her voice had a little more urgency when she called out to him again.

“Tom, open your eyes. The operation’s over. Everything went well.”

Someone shook him and then Tessa spoke once again.

“Open your eyes, Tom. Let me see that you’re okay.”

Tom gritted his teeth against the intrusion. He didn’t want to open his eyes. If he opened his eyes, he’d have to acknowledge the truth—that Lily might never be all right. It had been four days and still she lay unconscious. Nobody could tell him how much longer it might be. The not knowing was driving him mad.

“Tom!”

“Okay, okay,” he muttered and cracked his eyes open. “I heard you the first time.”

A black woman with a short cap of thick curly hair stood over him, shaking her head. An exasperated smile tugged at her lips. Tom stared at the whiteness of her teeth, stark against the dark purple of her lips.

“You gave me a little fright,” the nurse confessed, shaking her head. “Everything went well with the operation. Doctor Slee will speak to you later this evening. She has a full theater list today and we’re only halfway through. Your family’s probably wondering where you are. You’ve been down here a little longer than we expected.”

“How come?”

The nurse shrugged. “You took awhile to come out of the anaesthetic. Sometimes it happens. Everyone’s different. But now you’re awake and talking, I can call the ward. They’ll send a nurse down and a porter who will transport you back to your room.”

Tom digested the information in silence. He’d never been under an anaesthetic before, so he had nothing to compare it to, but it didn’t matter. He was awake now and that was good. The surgery was over and it all went well. It was a comforting thought. Now, he could turn his attention and energies toward Lily. She was going to make it. She
was
. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

Roseville, Sydney

Brady lay back in his bed and pulled the pillow over his head. Still, the noise of his parents arguing downstairs filtered through. He clenched his jaw and held the pillow tighter. He hated it when they fought. It reminded him of the time his dad had hit Brady’s mom. It had only happened once. But it was enough.

His mom had come through the doorway of his bedroom holding her face, tears gathering in her eyes. She’d snatched him out of bed. She thought he’d been asleep, she thought he hadn’t heard. The truth was, he’d heard everything.

Right now, they were arguing over the fact his dad had given him the gun and had left him with the box of ammunition. His mom was shouting at his dad that this whole mess was his dad’s fault, even the police felt so. His lack of judgement giving Brady the gun had led to this senseless shooting and now their son was facing possible jail time and a lifetime of regret and misery. Brady would never have shot his teacher if it hadn’t been for his dad.

His dad was having none of it, refusing to accept Brady’s actions had anything to do with the gun. The boy was defending himself against classroom bullies. It was understandable, given the hell they’d put him through. Yes, his dad knew all about Ian Little and his cohorts. Brady had told him. His dad then turned the tables and accused his mom of being an unfit mother for not protecting their son.

“The boy wouldn’t have had a reason to defend himself if you’d paid a little more attention to what he was going through. He told me he’d tried to talk to you about it, but you brushed away his concerns, like they didn’t matter. You could have used your influence as deputy principal to move him to another class, spare the boy some of the heartache he’s had to deal with over the years. You gave him no choice but to retaliate in a way that he thought would work.”

Brady’s mother protested and tried to argue back, but his dad was having none of it. Brady pressed the pillow tighter against his face until it was a struggle to breathe. His lungs burned and lights flashed behind his eyes. Blood thumped in his ears, blocking out the sound of his parents.

And then he shoved the pillow away and gasped desperately for breath.
What the hell was he doing?
If he wasn’t careful, he’d suffocate. Is that what he wanted? Did he want to die?

The thought took root in his mind. It was so awful that at first he pushed it far away, but in the dark, amidst the shouted arguments and accusations of his parents, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

If he wasn’t around, they’d have nothing to fight about. Life could go back to normal. His mom could return to school and the career she loved. His dad could get back to his new family. It would be a perfect solution for everyone—even him. His days of torment and torture at the hand of Ian Little and others of his kind would be over. He’d float away on a cloud. They wouldn’t get him from there, no matter how hard they tried.