The mood shifted again. Everything seemed to slow down. Jansen and Lucy Phillips exchanged glances. Jansen walked to the bedroom, and Lucy Phillips stepped forward. She didn’t put her hand on her gun, but she might as well have. Her body language was charged, and her eyes were on Jack like he’d suddenly become something dangerous.
‘There’s nothing in there,’ Jack said. ‘It’s just my bedroom.’ He tried to smile at Cam, who was beginning to look teary. Oh god. He reached out and took Cam’s hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Everything’s going to be fine, mate. They’re just doing their jobs.’
A minute passed, and then Jansen came back out of Jack’s room, followed by the uniformed cop. The uniform was carrying two large paper bags marked ‘Evidence’, one in each hand. The cop kept his distance from Jack, standing on the other side of the island unit. He put one bag on the ground and opened the other. He half-withdrew what was inside. It was a long-sleeved T-shirt; an old Rip Curl top he’d had for years. He recognised it by the illustration on the front and the little tear in the neck.
‘So, Jack,’ Jansen said. ‘I want to ask you about this T-shirt, but I want to be clear. You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, however, anything you do say may be taken down and used in evidence against you. Understand?’
Jack nodded dumbly.
‘This T-shirt yours, Jack?’
There was no point in denying it. They’d taken it from his laundry basket, or his wardrobe, or maybe from the pile of clothes he’d left on the chair.
‘I reckon. I mean, it looks like mine.’
Jansen nodded. He let the T-shirt slide back into the paper bag, which he folded closed before opening the other. Inside this one was a pair of boots.
‘Yours?’ Jansen said.
Jack tried to rally. ‘They look like mine. But they’re Kathmandu, mate. I got them at Vinnies. Probably fifty pairs of them just in this neighbourhood.’
Jack’s small attempt to defend himself seemed to have no impact. Jansen handed off the paper bags to Lucy Phillips, who carried them out of the house, along with the plastic evidence bag containing the gun.
‘Do me a favour and hold out your wrists,’ Jansen said.
Confused, Jack slowly extended his arms. He was wearing a T-shirt. His arms were bare.
‘Turn them over,’ Jansen said.
Jack turned them over, exposing his wrists.
‘No injuries,’ Jansen noted. ‘Suffer from nose bleeds, do you?’
‘What? No, I—’
‘Because there’s a bloodstain on the sleeve of your shirt. The one in the bag. And it’s recent. And there’s mud on your boots. Where did that come from?’
Goosebumps rose on Jack’s arms. A shiver ran down the back of his neck.
‘No. Hang on a second. This is all wrong. If there’s blood on my shirt, it’s old, okay? Whatever you’re thinking I did, you’re wrong.’
The cop who’d been in Cam’s room came back. He exchanged a glance with Jansen, and shook his head. All three policemen turned to look at Jack. Jansen took a step closer. He glanced at Cam, and something like regret passed briefly over his face.
‘Jack Miller, you’re under arrest for the murder of Robert Walker. I’m going to bring you to the station now, where you’ll be processed, and then we’ll have a formal interview. You have the right to medical treatment, if you need it, and you have the right to inform a friend or relative about where you are.’
Jack reeled. For a second he thought he was going to be sick. Robert Walker? The name meant nothing to him. Sweat broke out on his lower back. He was making such a mess of this. He had to do better. Stand up for himself. Explain who he was, the kind of person he was. Just an ordinary guy. Not a murderer. Oh Jesus. Cam. He was clutching at Jack’s arm now and crying for real. Ten years old, Cam hated to cry. This was messed up.
‘My son,’ Jack said, and his voice was raspy. ‘What happens with my son?’
There was sympathy in Jansen’s face. ‘Where’s his mother?’
‘She... she’s dead.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Jansen said. ‘Can you call your parents?’
Jack shook his head. ‘I’ll call my friend. Okay? She’ll pick him up. Look after him for a few hours.’ He turned to Cam, wrapped his arms around him. ‘It’s going to be fine, mate. It’s all just a mix-up, all right. Elsa will look after you. And I’ll be home... I’ll pick you up in the morning. We’ll go out for breakfast.’
Cam nodded his head. He tried to stop crying. Drew in a couple of shaking breaths. Tried very hard to pull himself together. Jack gave him a one-armed hug. Tried to act like this was all normal, like he had some kind of control.
