Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“Yeah. Bobby was always buzzed about it—his dad used to hire him one of those four-wheelers from around when he was fourteen, and he loved roaring up and down the beach on that. We did that together that time I went.”
I could imagine it—one of those long New Zealand beaches that seemed to go on forever into the horizon. Flags fluttering where the lifeguards had set up a safe swimming zone, but the other sections free for four-wheelers, or for surfers who wanted to be away from the swimmers and were confident in their ability to cope with the wild waves.
Salt in the air, a kind of sun-kissed glow to the people.
“Rhiannon drowned.” A slap of cold water thrown on the halcyon images in my mind. “They found her body tangled up in some buoy ropes way out in the water.”
“Jesus, how awful.”
“Neither of the families ever went back to the beach.” Richard took another drink. “I mean, would you?”
I shook my head. “But what’s Bobby got to do with it?”
“Her parents went on television, gave this big interview. They didn’t name Bobby—probably couldn’t, because he was a minor—and that meant they couldn’t name the Prasads, either, because it would’ve identified him.
“I reckon that was the TV people, because they did bleep out a couple of names. My oldest sis later said that Rhiannon’s mother was on social media talking about it, too, no censorship.”
“About what?”
“Rhiannon’s mum said that Rhiannon and Bobby were in a relationship, that they did the long-distance thing after the previous summer, but that the summer Rhiannon died, she’d decided it wasn’t worth it when they only met in the summer weeks. She broke it off.”
I frowned, my fingers tight on the can of Coke. “Surely she wasn’t saying that Bobby killed her daughter because of a summer fling? They were kids.”
“Most people said that privately, but no one said it to the lady’s face—I mean, she was grieving, right? Anyway, she said that her daughter was on the swim team, the best swimmer of the entire group, and there was no way she’d have drowned unless someone helped her.”
Finishing off his soda, he crushed the can in one hand. “That television interview, her husband sat there mostly silent, but she cried and said how the police had hushed it all up because the boy’s parents were important doctors and she was a checkout operator, her husband a mechanic.”
Richard shook his head. “I mean, it was crazy talk, but that’s probably what the cops have dug up.” His expression grew dark. “Easier to blame a dead man than look for whatever psycho it was who went into that house and did that.”
I nodded, but my mouth was dry, my heart racing. That was two dead children I’d now connected to Bobby.
“Sorry, man, I have to get back to the job.”
“Right, sure. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me.” I chewed over his words as we walked back to where we’d parked. “One more thing, Richard, and this is really awkward…but Shumi’s family is saying Bobby abused her.”
Richard’s jaw worked. “He would never lay a finger on her. He was super traditional in that way—that the man is the one who looks after his woman. Back in high school, he used to be a favorite with the girls for how he helped them carry their books or opened the doors.
“We’d laugh at him, but he’d grin and say, ‘You suckers aren’t getting kissed under the bleachers, are you?’ ” A sudden smile. “He was right. He had so many girlfriends all through school.”
“Not Shumi?”
“Her parents sent her to a girls’ school about half an hour from our coed one, and he was a teenage boy. Never cheated on her after they did officially hook up at uni, though.”
I wasn’t so sure of Bobby’s fidelity given everything else I’d discovered about him, but Richard had already been confronted by too many uncomfortable truths. I waved him off with, “I think I’ll walk along here a bit longer.” The surreal landscape with its whiff of sulfur and deadly hazards suited my mood.
Finishing off my Coke, I dropped the can in the trash before I began to walk.
When my phone rang a minute later, I glanced down to see my lawyer’s name. “What’s Ackerson saying now?” I asked Ngata when I answered.
“I’ve got sources, and those sources are telling me she’s attempting to request all kinds of financial records about you from the US. Is there something I should know?”
My stomach twisted, sweat breaking out along my spine. “I used to have a gambling problem,” I said. “Pissed away everything I earned and took out a mortgage on my condo—when it sells, I’ll only clear a hundred grand.” No point hiding that when Ackerson had to have received the tip from Baxter in LA.