‘Have you given my dinner invitation any more thought? I want to try this Italian joint in Collins Street—’

‘I’ll ring you back.’ She shut the phone and leaned her head back on the headrest, closing her eyes for a moment.

She opened them when she felt De Vakey’s hand on her cheek.

‘One of your admirers?’ he asked.

She pushed his hand away, endeavouring to keep him in the same faraway place she’d stored the memory of his kisses. ‘Listen, about last night,’ she said. ‘That was a one-off. The champagne made me reckless. I don’t usually let myself go with strange men quite so easily, especially with strange men I have to work with. Can we just forget it happened? I have to maintain my focus. It’s not fair to the victims or their families if I don’t give these cases one hundred percent.’

‘A few sips of champagne? No wonder you don’t drink it much,’ he teased.

She opened her mouth, trying to think up another excuse and failed.

His smile softened. ‘I understand; I feel the same. Although I have no wish to forget last night, I can put it to the back of my mind until the case is over, or my involvement in it anyway. Perhaps then you will consider having dinner with me and we can start again. You may not find me so strange then.’

He raised an eyebrow. God, he was sexy when he did that.

She nodded, feeling a load lift from her mind.

For reasons she knew she shouldn’t have, she didn’t want the profiler to see the inside of her shabby house and asked him to wait in the car. The wind tore at her clothing as she battled up the garden path. It whipped at the trees and made the window frames of her old house rattle, the loose gutter flap.

Angus had given Stevie and De Vakey the go-ahead for a thorough background check on Martin Sparrow. She would touch base with her mother and Izzy, warn them she wouldn’t be around much for the next few days, throw on some clean clothes, then head to Central with De Vakey.

She found her mother at the kitchen table with her rune stones spread out in front of her.

Dot looked up. The skin around her eyes was tight and drawn, the brackets on each side of her mouth having given up their supportive task, letting her mouth softly droop. For the first time Stevie could remember, her mother looked every one of her sixty-five years.

‘How’s the head? I wasn’t expecting you home so soon. I thought they wanted to keep you in for another night.’ Dot’s tone was as colourless as the grey stones she shuffled and clicked across the table’s surface.

Stevie’s hand went to her head in a reflex action, barely feeling the stitches under her ponytail. ‘My head’s fine.’ A beat. ‘Mum, what are you doing?’ She hadn’t seen her mother with the runes since her father was diagnosed with MS.

‘Three times; I drew Hagalaz three times,’ Dot said.

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘The rune of elemental power, disruption and hail; it signifies events beyond our control.’

‘Has something happened to Izzy?’ Stevie asked in sudden panic.

‘No, she’s in her room.’

Needing to see for herself, she found Izzy curled up on top of her bed, sound asleep, a toy pony Stevie hadn’t seen before clutched to her chest. She gently pulled a corkscrew of blond hair from her daughter’s mouth and noticed with dismay the tarnish of tearstains on her cheeks.

When she returned to the kitchen and asked about the tears, Dot said, ‘We got home from kindy after the busy bee to find an unwelcome visitor on the front doorstep.’

Stevie knew the identity of the visitor before her mother came out with it and silently berated herself for not warning Dot. She was good at this, burying herself in her work in the hope that her personal problems would go away. Her hand crept to her neck where she felt her pulse flutter. She found herself bouncing from one foot to the other.

‘Stevie, it was Tye,’ Dot said, her voice sharp with accusation. ‘You must have known he was back in town. You should have warned me. I nearly had a coronary when I saw him there.’ The stones were swept from the table with one swift movement and fell into the pouch with a sharp crack.

Stevie turned to the task of tea making. The ticking of the kitchen clock sounded extra loud. She’d assembled it in high-school woodwork classes and for some inexplicable reason the second hand had always lagged behind the minute hand, making each tick sound like a heartbeat. She wrestled with the pros and cons of telling her mother. Best to get it over with she decided at last.

‘Tye’s seeking custody of Izzy.’

‘What? That’s absurd!’

‘He’s got legal advice. His lawyer rang me up the other day. He says Tye has a right to see her.’

‘Crikey Moses,’ Dot whispered. The angry line of her mouth slipped into worry. ‘I suppose I’d have to agree if he’d ever shown the slightest bit of interest in her. How many times has he seen her since she was born?’

‘Half a dozen, maybe, certainly not enough to have earned the right to be called Dad. I’ve never asked for a cent in child support and she carries my name. This is his way of getting back at me for ruining his career.’

‘Why now?’

‘I don’t know, I suppose he’s had time to brood.’

Dot clasped her hands into a tight knot. ‘What are you going to do?’

Stevie strengthened her voice. ‘I’m going to fight him, of course. I’ve enlisted the help of a Family Court lawyer who owes me big time.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this?’

‘I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy with the Poser case and I needed some time to think. I wanted to work out how I felt about it before I shared the news with you. I guess I wanted to wait until I could tell you that everything would be all right.’ She reached into the cupboard for the good cups and saucers.

Dot bit at her bottom lip. ‘Does Monty know about this custody business?’ The question was voiced so softly Stevie had to stop clattering the crockery to hear it.

‘No.’

Dot gave her a strange look, opened her mouth to speak then seemed to think better of it. When Stevie sat down she had to consciously stop herself from squirming on her chair. She was twelve again. Her mother was going to tell her father about the stash of smokes she’d found in the cistern of the outside dunny.

‘What are you going to do?’ Dot asked again.

‘I’m not letting Tye have her alone, that’s for sure.’

‘What if the judge orders it?’

Stevie didn’t answer. What could she do? She turned the teapot three times on the table then lifted the lid. Watching the tea leaves swirl, she fought against the feelings of helplessness Tye always managed to stir up in her. ‘He doesn’t want his daughter. He’s only interested in getting at me.’

Dot leaned across the table and patted her hand, regarding her through worried eyes Stevie could not meet. ‘No one’s going to take Izzy away from us.’

Stevie waved Dot’s concern away with a toss of her hand. ‘I’m more prepared now. I can handle him.’

‘Of course you can.’ Dot paused. ‘He brought Izzy an armful of presents, charmed her, ignored me and left. She became quite hysterical.’

For the first time Stevie noticed the pile of empty boxes and shopping bags in the corner of the kitchen; the rubble of a ruined Lego castle, an unopened Monopoly game. The discarded Barbie doll, stiff and stripped, made her flinch.

‘She’s too young for these toys,’ she said.

‘She cried herself to sleep, wanting him to stay. Yes, she’s too young for these toys and she’s too young to cope with the yoyo of emotions he puts her through. For months he doesn’t ring her, forgets her birthday then suddenly turns up wanting to be her dad again.’

‘I thought he’d forgotten all about her, imagined he’d settled down into a new life, I hadn’t heard from him for so long.’ Stevie massaged her temples, her head pounding. ‘My lawyer thinks I should have no problems getting sole custody. Tye hasn’t got a chance and he knows it, but he’s going to make it an uphill battle for me all the same.’