‘Our house was fully insured, and there won’t be any legal repercussions,’ Fiona added, backing him up. ‘The lawyer over in Los Angeles is taking care of that, and we’ve got lots of good people working on the case over here. I’m convinced you won’t be charged – especially since the cost of that ticket was repaid so quickly.’
‘Still, it’s a good job you’re not sixteen yet,’ was Judith’s unexpected contribution, which elicited a frown from Saul.
‘Age is only one factor,’ he reminded her, in a reproving tone. ‘There are lots of other considerations, too.’
‘Like the extreme stress you were under, Cadel,’ Fiona weighed in. ‘And the fact that you were so cooperative with the police.’
‘It’ll be okay,’ Saul insisted. ‘Like I said, there’s no need to worry.’
Cadel swallowed. His gaze slid sideways, towards Sonja, but she couldn’t offer any reassurance. All she could do was roll her eyes.
Though he didn’t want to upset her, he couldn’t help himself. He had to ask. He had to.
‘What about Prosper?’ he croaked.
A weird kind of stillness descended on the car. For a split second, even Sonja stopped moving. Fiona cleared her throat. Judith’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.
‘I don’t think …’ Saul began, then paused and took a deep breath before remarking, very gently, ‘I don’t think anyone has to worry about Prosper, any more.’
‘Except maybe the Prince of Darkness,’ said Judith. When Saul flicked her a warning look, Judith seemed taken aback. ‘What?’ she demanded. ‘It’s a fair comment!’
Fiona sighed. ‘Judy, we’ve talked about this –’ she began, but was interrupted by Cadel.
‘Prosper might not be dead,’ he murmured. ‘Have you thought of that?’
Another tense silence fell. Fiona pressed his hand. The car jerked forward.
‘If he’s dead, then why hasn’t anyone found him?’ Cadel continued weakly. ‘Why hasn’t he been washed up?’
‘It can take weeks for that to happen,’ Saul replied. ‘What with the currents, and the sharks …’ Somehow he must have sensed his wife’s dismay; perhaps he heard the upholstery creak beneath her as she flinched, because he abruptly abandoned the subject of sharks and their feeding habits. ‘Didn’t Kale discuss this with you? I thought he did. He said he did.’
In fact, Kale had discussed the subject endlessly. Upon hearing Cadel’s first (and somewhat garbled) account of the dinghy accident, he’d concluded that Prosper might have faked his own death. But then Cadel had recovered enough to provide more details, and Rex Austin’s boat had been found – along with a flare, an oar, and one of Prosper’s shoes. From that moment on, Kale’s opinion had altered. The fact that the lifejacket was still missing had cut no ice with Kale. He was convinced that Prosper was dead, despite the absence of any remains.
Like Saul, Kale had mentioned things like sharks and tidal currents. He’d insisted that no one could have swum to Mexico from Laguna Beach – not in the middle of a storm. And he’d dismissed Cadel’s objections about the missing lifejacket.
‘I’ll agree, Prosper could have been wearing it,’ the FBI agent had conceded at one point. ‘But that doesn’t mean he survived. The bilge pump is missing too, remember. And that length of rope you were talking about.’ According to Kale, the fact that Prosper hadn’t washed up along the coastline of southern California within twenty-four hours of disappearing was pretty conclusive. ‘Of course there’ll be an inquest, but if he didn’t crawl up onto a beach somewhere, he’s dead for sure. He would have been spotted. I don’t care how fit he was – he would have been knocked around so bad, they would have had to scrape him off the rocks.’
This was more or less what Saul was saying as Judith drove beneath a boom gate, out of the car park. Gazo was ahead of them somewhere, on his way to Maroubra. Everything looked slightly strange to Cadel, even though he hadn’t been out of the country for long. He wasn’t used to seeing cars on the left-hand side of the road.
‘You barely made it to shore yourself,’ Saul argued, ‘and you were lucky. I mean, it’s a miracle that the waves pushed you straight onto the beach. If that hadn’t happened, you would have drowned.’
‘Maybe that isn’t what happened,’ Cadel replied dully. ‘Maybe it wasn’t the waves that pushed me onto the beach.’
Fiona gasped. Saul said, ‘What are you talking about?’
But Fiona was way ahead of him.
‘You surely don’t think that Prosper saved you?’ she protested. ‘Oh, no. No.’
‘People have been going on and on about how lucky I was –’ Cadel began, before Judith cut him off.
‘Are you kidding?’ she said scornfully. ‘Prosper took the bloody lifejacket! Why the hell would he have done that, if he wanted to save you?’
‘Because he’s a better swimmer than me,’ Cadel rejoined. For days he had been searching his memory for hints and contradictions. There had been a solid presence – he could certainly recall that. But had it been Prosper or the boat?
According to Kale, it had been the boat. According to Kale, Prosper couldn’t possibly have saved Cadel. And Saul shared this opinion.
‘If Prosper had dragged you onto dry land, he would have left footprints,’ the detective pointed out.
‘Not necessarily.’ Cadel refused to budge. ‘Not if he stayed below the tidemark.’
‘Are you serious?’ Judith scoffed, as she spun the wheel. Then Fiona weighed in with her own objection.
‘He wouldn’t have gone back into the water, sweetie,’ she demurred.
‘I’m not saying he did.’ Cadel could feel himself growing more and more defensive. He could feel his heart pounding and his muscles clenching and his mouth drying up. ‘For all we know, he could have walked over to the rocks, through the water. There were rocks at the end of that beach. He could have climbed those rocks until he reached the top of the cliff.’
‘And then what?’ asked Saul. ‘He would have been spotted, Cadel. A wet guy in a lifejacket? He would have stood out like a sore thumb.’
‘It was raining.’ Cadel retorted. ‘And he probably got rid of the lifejacket.’
‘In that case, it would have been found.’
‘Not if he threw it into the sea. You just said it was probably lost at sea.’
‘Yeah, sure – if it was wrapped around Prosper!’ By now Saul’s irritation was beginning to show. Staying twisted around in his seat couldn’t have been easy; it must have hurt his shoulder, because he was red and shaky, and damp with sweat. For some reason, however, he’d decided that demolishing Cadel’s arguments should be done face to face, and eye to eye. ‘If that lifejacket was thrown off a cliff, it would have washed ashore again,’ the detective declared.
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Cadel, the place was crawling with police. Where could he have gone, with only one shoe? Did he have any money? Did he have a functioning phone? It’s not like he caught a cab.’
‘Have you checked?’ asked Cadel. When he received no answer, he realised that he’d scored a point. ‘Wilfreda’s still out there somewhere,’ he continued. ‘For all we know, she might be living at Laguna Beach. He might have gone to stay with her. It’s possible.’
Saul gave a startled grunt. ‘I thought you said she was in Mexico?’ he exclaimed.
Cadel coloured.
‘I did,’ he had to admit. ‘That’s what I assumed. But it isn’t what Prosper said.’ Hearing Judith snort, he became more strident. ‘Prosper said that we were going to Mexico – him and me. He said he’d call Wilfreda when we got there. Which might just mean that he wanted her to drive down and meet us.’
‘Sweetie …’ Suddenly Fiona spoke up. She squeezed Cadel’s hand again, gazing into his eyes with anxious compassion. ‘Listen to me for a minute,’ she said. ‘I realise that you’ve spent your whole life in Prosper’s shadow. I realise that in the past, whenever you’ve started to feel safe, he’s always come
back to spoil things. I realise that. And I understand why you can’t let go of the feeling that he’ll keep coming back, no matter what.’ As Cadel stiffened, she took a deep breath. ‘But this time, I swear to you, he won’t come back,’ she promised. ‘He won’t. He’s gone. You’re free now.’
‘Because he’s not bloody Superman,’ Judith agreed. ‘If he’d made it to shore, he would have been found. And since he wasn’t found, then he must be dead.’
No, thought Cadel. No, no, no. That can’t be right. There was a bitter taste on his tongue.
‘If Prosper drowned, why didn’t I?’ he snapped. ‘Prosper was a good swimmer! He had a lifejacket! Why would he drown, and not me?’
‘Because you were lucky,’ Saul replied. His voice roughened a little as he added, ‘Because we were all lucky. Incredibly, unbelievably lucky.’
‘Or because Prosper saved my life!’ Cadel blurted out. When Saul turned to face the windscreen, it was as if he’d passed judgement. Cadel felt panic-stricken, and close to despair. ‘It makes sense!’ he cried. ‘It does!’
‘It does not,’ said Judith. She glanced up into the rear-view mirror. ‘Prosper took the lifejacket. He tried to kill you. What about Sonja’s wheelchair? What about the runaway bus?’
‘I – I –’
‘He was going crazy, Cadel. You said it yourself. I’ve read your statement.’ Saul’s tone was deep and weary. ‘He practically confessed, when he mentioned that bus. He had it in for you.’
‘Yes, but –’
‘He was using you as a hostage. That’s why he didn’t shoot you in the house,’ Saul went on, much to Fiona’s annoyance. She shot a fierce look at her husband, then placed a comforting arm around Cadel’s shoulders.
‘We’ll never know what might have happened,’ she said, soothingly. ‘All we know is what did happen. Which is that you’re home safe, with your family, and that the danger is well and truly past.’
‘No thanks to Prosper,’ Judith added. ‘He didn’t save you, Cadel. I mean, why on earth would he have done that?’
‘Because he loved me,’ Cadel whispered. The words came unbidden; for an instant he thought that they’d simply crossed his mind, and hadn’t been uttered aloud. But then he heard Judith hiss, and Sonja squeak, and he realised that he must have spoken after all.
‘You don’t believe it because you don’t understand,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Prosper was different. He wasn’t like other people. He might have hated me, but he loved me too. In his own way. He couldn’t help it; not after raising me for all those years.’ When no one responded – when he saw nothing but expressions of disbelief on the faces around him – Cadel wailed, ‘He did! He did! I know he did! He only wanted to wreck my life because he wasn’t a part of it!’
And as sympathetic hands reached out towards him from every corner of the car, Cadel began to cry like someone whose heart was breaking.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Catherine Jinks was born in Brisbane in 1963 and grew up in Sydney and Papua New Guinea. She studied medieval history at university, and her love of reading led her to become a writer. Her books for children, teenagers and adults have been published to wide acclaim all over the world, and have won numerous awards.
Catherine lives in the Blue Mountains in New South Wales with her husband, Canadian journalist Peter Dockrill, and their daughter Hannah.
Catherine Jinks, The Genius Wars
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