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"What the fuck? You're the guy in the suit, aren't you? The one in the video? Get out of my car, or I will fuck you up so bad, you'll need to wear a mask for the rest of your life, no one will want to even look at you!" The man reached back, grabbing Wystan's arm, but in doing so, his car swerved alarmingly toward a concrete wall.
"Mr Masters!" Wystan reached for the steering wheel to correct the car's course, only to find himself fighting the man for control of the car. One moment, they were about to hit the concrete wall, and the next, they were careening toward the metal barrier at the edge of the road. No, the edge of a bridge...
Time seemed to stand still as the car hit the barrier, broadside, but instead of stopping, the car wanted to keep going, flipping up and over until it was no longer on the bridge. Then it began to fall.
Broken glass flew everywhere, from windows that had shattered just like the one this man had broken in the café last night. And then they hit.
It felt as hard as concrete, or another road, until water began to gush into the car as it sank. The man screamed, begging for help and to be let go, but no one was holding him. Blood streaked the water around him, and he just kept on screaming, even as the car sank beneath the surface, and the sound came out more like gurgling.
Wystan heaved himself out of the car's shattered rear window, for the water didn't bother him, as he had no need to breathe. The car settled on the riverbed, so it was a simple matter for him to walk around to the front and peer in at the man.
His eyes were wide open and staring, but unseeing. The dashboard of the car had pinned his legs to the seat, so he hung upside down, his mouth still open as if he wanted to scream one last time.
But he would never scream again. Unless fate saw fit to give him a second chance like the one it had given to Wystan...
No. Effie's death had been tragic. Terrible and perhaps preventable, if the doctor had arrived in time, but not Wystan's fault. Whereas this man had plotted and planned for Tacey's death, which made him a very different creature.
A monster Rory wanted him to protect her from.
And he had. However accidentally, or fortuitously, Wystan had vanquished the monster. Tacey and Rory were safe.
Now, if fate had truly blessed him, he would be allowed to ascend into heaven, to spend eternity with Effie and the baby.
He had only one regret: that he hadn't had a chance to bid Tacey and Rory farewell, and claim a farewell kiss. For he would miss them both sorely.
Wystan closed his eyes, waiting. Surely an angel would come? Or someone?
He waited and he waited, but there were no trumpets, no angels. Not even a devil come to devour him for daring to hope for heaven.
Which meant he still had to protect Tacey and Rory. Hope bloomed in his heart. They still needed him.
Wystan could live with that.
So he turned until he faced downriver, toward the sea, and began to walk along the riverbed home.
THIRTY-EIGHT
"Time to go NOW, Rory!" Tacey shouted. God, she didn't want to be shouting at her, on what might be their last morning together.
If only Matt would drive into a tree or something and not turn up.
Tacey shook her head. No, she shouldn't wish that on Matt, let alone the innocent tree.
A concrete barrier, maybe?
Only if that meant he wouldn't turn up ever. Because if he turned up late, he'd be even angrier and meaner and he might try to take it out on Rory...
Tacey had packed an overnight bag for Rory, the same one she usually took to Mum's when she stayed overnight, and hidden it in the boot of the car. She wasn't going to surrender Rory to Matt, but he was her father, and entitled to access visits, if nothing else. When he arrived, she was going to tell him Rory could say with him for the weekend, but she had to be home on Sunday afternoon, because she had school on Monday.
He and his arsehole lawyer could try to take her to court, but there were other lawyers in Perth, and she'd find another one. Plus, for every lie Matt had told about her, she could tell just as many stories about him. The police had to find something to link him to the cockroaches or the fire, and she'd bring that to court, too. He couldn't have full custody of Rory if he was in prison for arson, which was a terrible crime in bushfire-prone Perth.
This wasn't the end. She would fight him every step of the way.
As long as they actually made it to the café...
"Rory! I'm going to count to three!"
Rory stomped into view. "I can't find my green thongs."
