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Her phone beeped. A message.

Go and knock on your neighbour’s door. Trust me.

<°)))><

Ava Perdu was not consciously into colours. She didn’t care that a black car showed authority and power. Ava controlled her world and black was the colour that reflected that. It was a power colour. She did not like white: it reminded her of church people—goodness, innocence, religion. And, at this point, white reminded her of police cars.

The police were looking for something or someone, maybe the escapee with the potato-sack man. And there sat a min-van parked under a tree which gave the indication of someone keeping an eye on things. A busy neighbourhood.

She parked her car at the top of the street with a view of the van. She opened the boot and retrieved some items that would assist in her task. Were they looking for her? She believed they would still be working out their strategy based on what Isabella and the escapee would’ve told them. But Ava believed that the escapee would’ve had limited opportunities to tell anyone anything. How did he survive the crash? She would deal with him later. At the moment she was in a botany mood. She wanted to know where those plants were, then dispose of her daughter’s nemesis. She got back in her car and spied the van watching the unit.

She knew how to deal with the person in the van. Although the van was heavily tinted—a give-away that someone sat inside—the occupant wasn’t overly concerned about being noticed. Their role was probably protective as opposed to surveillance. This meant the occupant would be more open to getting out of the car and stretching. It was a patience game.

Twenty minutes passed. The side door of the van opened and the man stepped out.

Ava was out of her car and sprinted. “Excuse me,” she yelled.

The man turned, unsure of what to do. He looked around to see if there were other people around—there weren’t.

“Yes, lady.”

“What you up to?” It was a quick spray and a quick push back into the van.

“Tell my wife . . . “

The man must have thought he was dying or something. Ava made him comfortable and then got out and closed the sliding door. She looked around. All was quiet. She walked on as nothing had happened. She gave a see-ya-later wave back to the van in case there were spectators and headed towards her target.

59 – Who can be trusted?

WHO WAS THE TEXT MESSAGE FROM? No name, just a number. But the words ‘trust me’—Isabella had heard them before and remembered them clearly. The first memory came on the bus and the second on the property, watching that Perdu woman sneaking away. She was here. The text must be from the Messenger.

She gathered up her essentials and threw them in her backpack. Her overnight bag could stay. She put on her coat. Who lived next door? She checked her intercom screen and only saw a piece of paper dancing along the floor. Had someone left a door open? Could she do this? She opened her door and took a deep breath.

Tap, tap.

Isabella looked towards the front entrance.

Tap, tap.

She noticed a shadow came over the peep hole. Didn’t they have an intercom screen?

The door jerked open. The man was stunned. “Bella.”

Isabella felt her head draining. She was going somewhere. Things were shutting down.

Lucas caught her before she fell. He picked her up and carried her to the couch.

“James, could you go grab glass of water?”

Light appeared behind her eyelids. Slowly her senses came back. She felt warmth coming back to her face. She slowly sat up, shaking her head. “What . . . what are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

The urgency of the situation returned to Isabella. “We have to get away from here. That lady is here.”

James returned with water. “You mean Ava?”

Lucas grabbed the glass. “Quick, have a sip.” He placed the glass on the table. “We best get out of here.”

“How come he knows her name?”

“Are you coming, James?” Lucas asked as he grabbed a coat that hung on the back of the door.

“Na. I’m not into this cloak and dagger stuff. I want to go back to my shack. I’ll try and delay her pursuit of you if she does turn up.”

“You sure, James?”

“I am, Lucas. I feel worn out. My peaceful existence seems so far away. In fact, I’ve changed my mind. I might go too. I’ll go and get the car. I’m going back to the shack. I’ve had enough of this crazy place.”

“You all right, Bella?” Lucas put out his arm.

She stood up. Everything seemed to be restored to the original settings. She grabbed Lucas’s arm. She felt safe.

They were in the passageway. There was a stairwell down to where the cars were parked. The stairwell was dark.

“Make sure you hold on to the rails,” Lucas said.

Lucas pushed open the car park door. James’s vehicle sat alone towards the rear of the undercover car park. There was an exit door next to the car.

Are sens