Page 82 of Serenity Falls

He raises his eyebrows at her in a See, all taken care of way. Sadie stares at him. He’s not telling her something. And he looks tired, even though he was fast asleep last night.

‘Sadie, I said it’s okay. Don’t look so worried.’

She blinks. ‘Right. Sure.’

He turns and walks back into the kitchen. ‘I’m going to make another coffee. Want one?’

‘Nah, I’ll just grab a juice,’ she replies, opening the fridge door.

‘You sleep okay?’ her dad asks, sticking a cup under the coffee machine.

She hesitates and takes a sip of juice. Should she tell him about the ice-cream van or not? She had decided against mentioning her conversation with Stella to him last night. When he’d come back from the bathroom the coroner had already retreated to the bar to wait for her takeaway. Then their food had arrived, and Sadie hadn’t wanted to bring up dead Frankie while they ate.

This morning, Dad looks tired and stressed. He’s trying to hide it, but it’s not working. It reminds her of when the stuff with Decker happened. Sometimes, even now, she wonders if she should have got Dad involved in that. I mean, she knows it wasn’t her fault, but she shouldn’t have even been at the stupid party. And it wasn’t like Decker actually, you know. Maybe it would have been better if she’d just kept quiet. Dad would still have his job. And they wouldn’t be here.

‘Sadie?’

But she also hates lying to her dad. She grabs a slice of bread out of the packet and slots it in the toaster. ‘Okay. If I tell you something kind of crazy, you won’t freak, right?’

‘How crazy are we talking?’

‘Last night I woke up around two. I could hear music, and when I looked out the window there was this ice-cream van driving down the road – and either side were these guys in hazmat suits with these weird scanner things. And it looked like they were checking the houses.’

‘O-kay. That is … unusual.’

‘And before you ask – no, I wasn’t dreaming.’

‘Maybe they were cleaners or something?’

‘In an ice-cream van?’

‘I mean, this place is odd. I could see it.’

‘They knocked at the door.’

‘What? Why didn’t you wake me up?’

‘I tried. You were flat out again.’

‘Really?’

She nods. ‘Blotto. Like you were drugged. Maybe you’re making up for all those years of insomnia.’

He looks thoughtful. ‘Or maybe Vito slipped something into my food. I mean, was that really Parmesan cheese he sprinkled on my lasagne?’

They both smile, but she can tell he’s worried.

‘Anyway,’ he says now, ‘there must be an explanation for the van. I’ll ask someone.’

‘Okay.’

‘Talking of cheese … kind of,’ her dad continues. ‘We haven’t been to Winsom Wonderland yet. I mean, it’s probably a little late to drive there today … but maybe tomorrow?’

‘Yeah, maybe.’ She tries to sound enthusiastic, and she should be, of course. But somehow the idea of even more fake fairy-tale stuff and people dressed in furry-animal suits doesn’t quite appeal so much right now.

Mistaking her lack of enthusiasm for disappointment, her dad continues: ‘We could still do something together today – go shopping, maybe?’

‘You hate shopping.’