After Archie’s death and the hospital inquiry, the media had thrown around the phrase ‘God complex’ as if Marty thought he had the power to determine who would live and would die. But it wasn’t like that at all. He had to make choices every minute of every day. Choices that would affect a child’s chances. He’d spent his life trying to improve outcomes for every one of his patients. Surely Mel would have seen that when she was working in the hospital with him, seen how many children Marty had helped.

How did Mel even know about Sarah Hayden?

The wound was throbbing and his body was burning. Using his teeth and one hand, Marty ripped up the sleeve of his sweater and tried to tourniquet his thigh above the cut. Would it be tight enough?

Groaning, he kept his thumb on the pressure point. Marty needed to get out of here—talk to Sammy, find out what the boy knew about Bella, then ring Caruso. Parrish must have convinced Mel to help him take Bella.

Three blind mice. Three blind mice.

See how they run. See how they run.

They all ran after the farmer’s wife,

Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,

Did you ever see such a sight in your life,

As three blind mice?

Run, run, run.

They’ll be coming soon. Not so blind anymore.

Destroy the evidence.

The house in Queensland is ready.

Get Sarah to safety.

Pray that the police are distracted long enough.

51 LEXIE

51

LEXIE

I SPED THROUGH THE STREETS OF MERRIGANG AND TURNED LEFT ONTO the open road, whizzing past farms of brown paddocks. Tight bends punctuated the road into the river valley. I checked each vehicle coming in the opposite direction, watching for Marty’s car. Why had he gone out towards the Brindabellas? Could he really have taken Bella and hidden her from me? Racing around another blind corner, I had to slam on the brakes. In front of me, a logging truck laboured up the steep incline, its long load weighing it down. No way of getting around it. Breathe, Lexie, breathe. Smell the roses, blow out the candles. The truck finally lumbered off onto a side road and I pressed my foot down on the accelerator.

Another fifteen minutes. Was I nearly there or had I missed it? I slowed the four-wheel drive, searching for the entrance gates to properties; they were few and far between. The phone buzzed. Please let it be Marty; I need to know what’s going on.

Nudging the car to the edge of the road, I checked the caller. Imogen. When I’d told her what Sammy had said, she agreed it was weird.

‘I like Mel, but I’m not sure she always tells the truth,’ Imogen said. ‘Did you know she had two different birth stories?’

‘What?’