'So, Henry, what do you do for a quid?' Ken spoke up. 'Are you in a job at the moment?'
'In and out, Ken. I'm in sales. I do a lot of door-to-door work.'
Karen almost snorted. No wonder he didn't get a lot of work. Most people wouldn't want him in their house. Damn Eddie for putting me in this situation, she thought. Still, Henry seemed to be nice enough now that she was getting used to the way he looked.
Karen finished serving and began to eat. She listened to Ken and Henry speaking for a while and tried to encourage Maryana to settle down, but her daughter had eaten none of her lunch.
'What's the matter, little Maryana, don't you feel well?' Henry asked during a break in the conversation with Ken.
Maryana squirmed in her chair, her hair covering her face.
'Did something make you feel sick?' he said.
Maryana started to cry.
'Oh baby, what's wrong?' Karen stood and went to her daughter. 'Henry, I think you're right.' She reached down and scooped Maryana into her arms. 'She's all hot. Are you feeling sick, darling?'
Karen took Maryana from the room, her daughter clinging to her like a baby. She settled her into bed and smoothed her hair a little until she stopped crying.
She returned to the table when Maryana had relaxed under her quilt, tired out by her sobs.
'Is she okay, Karen?' asked Ken.
'I don't know what's wrong with her,' she said. 'I gave her a Panadol. I'll let her sleep now and take her up to the medical centre this afternoon.'
Maryana Miceh felt a lot better.
As soon as she got away from that Henry, she didn't feel so woozy. He was probably a very nice man, she told herself. It was just that the sore on his tummy made her feel really sweaty and hot. She kept thinking about what she had seen him doing through the crack in the wall. Maybe she should tell her mum?
She decided it would probably be best to ask Jasmine Hardcastle tomorrow before class started. Even though Jasmine thought she was better than everyone else, she did seem to know a lot of stuff. Maryana didn't want to get in trouble for spying on Henry, but maybe her mum should know about his stomach. Maybe she could get him some bandaids or something. And he didn't have a car. Maybe he needed to get a lift to see Dr Kim at the medical centre.
Alerted by a sound out the window, she scrambled up and knelt on her bed.
Wow, she thought. There's a pretty lady on the lawn. She's coming to our house!
Maryana slipped off her bed and padded through the hallway to the front door. She pulled the door open and walked out onto the front steps. She held her hand up to her face to stop the sun hurting her eyes. The lady waved. Maryana could see that the lady couldn't open their gate.
'That gate's stupid,' said Maryana, hopping on one leg down the path that ran from the steps to the fence. 'My dad was supposed to fix it, but Mummy said he's stupid too.'
'I've come to visit Henry,' said Chloe Farrell, smiling. 'Does he live here?'
'No, silly!' Maryana laughed.
'Oh… okay.'
'He's renting!'
'Uh huh.'
'You know you can just climb over that gate. Uncle Ken does that. He says my dad is stupid too. Do you think that's rude?'
Chloe stepped over the low fence easily.
'My name's Chloe,' she said.
'I wish that was my name,' said Maryana. 'I'm Maryana. Everyone's in there having lunch.' She pointed back inside. 'Come on. I'll show you where Henry is renting.'
Maryana ran around the side of the house.
Chloe followed.
Chloe now felt certain that the police had this all wrong. She'd been told that the first suspect police investigated was most often the wrong one, and it was with this in mind that she'd decided to risk asking after this Henry person at the house in Cabramatta. The fact that he hadn't been brought in for questioning also strengthened her doubts that the police seriously thought this guy was one of the killers. And then she'd met Henry's grandmother, and she was so sweet! But it was little Maryana and this gingerbread house that finally convinced her. Would a bloodthirsty psychopath be eating Sunday lunch with a family in Baulkham Hills? She didn't think so.
So it was all good for her. She could get an interview with a police suspect and show that they were still a long way off the mark as far as solving the case. She wondered if this bloke even knew he was under surveillance. She suspected that the cops didn't even know that he'd moved on from the family house in Cabramatta. She smiled to herself as she followed little Maryana's chubby legs into the backyard of the home. Maybe she'd get to present a piece live to camera. The anchor, Deborah, would burn.
'Maryana!'
Chloe heard a call come from inside the house.
'That's my mum,' the little girl said. 'I gotta go. His room's in there.' Maryana pointed to a door tucked beside the stairs leading to the house above them. 'You wanna come up?'
'No, that's okay, Maryana. I should go back around the front and knock on the door. I should introduce myself to your mum properly.'
'Okay, then,' said the little girl, giving her a quizzical look. She ran off.
Chloe decided to have a quick look around before going back to the front of the house. She was surprised at how easy it had been to find this guy and wanted to think of a few questions to put to him before they met, but she wasn't sure whether the little girl would tell her mum she was down here. Chloe didn't want to meet these people that way. She quickly ducked around the side of the rented room and realised that it was partially dug into the ground. She spotted a window on the back wall and tried to peer through. She could see nothing.
She made her way back around to the front of the room.
'Lunch was great, Karen, Ken.' Henry stood. 'Thank you. I might just use the bathroom before I go.'
Ken stood as well. 'You might have to go downstairs, mate. I'm just on my way to use the toilet up here myself.'
Karen smiled at her brother, grateful. For some ridiculous reason she didn't want this man becoming too familiar with her house.
'I don't know why everyone needs the toilet all of a sudden.' Karen tried to laugh. 'And Maryana feeling sick too. I hope it wasn't my cooking. Where has that child got to?' she said, calling to her daughter again before seeing Henry to the back door.
Karen shocked herself by turning the deadlock when she closed it. Must be that closet racism, she thought, forcing herself to open the door again. Her six-year-old scooted past her into the kitchen.
Cutter could smell her.
He moved from the final step of the house onto the concrete that led to the washing line. Not Karen's sweet, ripe tang. No, no. We've had a visitor, he thought. Musky smell. He turned his nose into the light breeze and sniffed again. Why would anyone be down here?
Cutter didn't believe in coincidence. He didn't believe in chance. If something didn't feel right, it was wrong. There was something wrong in Baulkham Hills.
His head whipped around with the sound. There. There she is. Anyone with her? He could see no one. Still, he kept his options open as he moved forward a little to greet the guest.
'Henry?' she said, doubt in her eyes.
Now that was a surprise. No one knew he was here. She didn't look like a cop. Maybe a friend of his landlord – had Karen told people about him already?
'My name is Chloe Farrell,' she said, extending her hand. 'I'm an investigative journalist working on the southwest Sydney home invasion case. I wondered if we could speak for a few moments?'
He took her hand, breathed with her for a few beats. He had to blink to break the spell.
'To me? What about?' He walked closer to his door.
'I don't know whether you're aware, Henry, but the police think you might know something that could help them with the case.'