‘Look in back,’ Judah said.

Sidney saw the shape of a man. The head was down in the foot-well of the backseat but Sidney could tell from the clothes that it was Martin.

He recoiled. ‘What happened?’

‘Doesn’t matter what happened,’ Judah said. ‘What matters is what we’re going to do about it.’ He was speaking slowly, in a measured way, like he was checking each word before he said it.

‘And what’s that?’ Sidney asked.

‘We’re going after Vernon Moore.’

‘He did this?’

‘I told you. It doesn’t matter how it happened.’

Sidney stood back from the car. ‘Well, you can count me out.’ He looked at his brother. ‘You’re going along with this?’

Brendan had returned to his smaller self. His hands were so caked with blood that in the moonlight they appeared ancient. ‘We have to, Sidney.’

‘Why?’

‘Because,’ Judah said from the darkness, ‘you don’t and I’ll be coming back.’

Sidney looked a moment at his brother.

Brendan stepped forwards. ‘I’m sorry, Sid.’

‘We’re going to find Vernon Moore,’ Judah said. ‘And when we do I’m putting my boots up his arse. And if you don’t help me I’ll come back here and it’s your daughter gets the bullet.’ His grip on the wheel tightened. ‘Have to spell everything right out for you country dipshits, don’t I?’

Sidney looked at his brother. There was a deep sadness in his eyes that Sidney understood. A look of guilt, remorse. He looked back at the house.

‘You don’t need me,’ Sidney tried.

‘More people the better. He’ll know we’re coming,’ Judah said. He lit up a cigarette, took a long drag. ‘Go get the guns.’

Brendan obediently took off for the house.

‘You get in the car,’ Judah said.

‘I have to go in with him.’

‘Why?’

‘I need to tell my wife.’

‘You heard what I said?’

‘Yeah, I heard.’

‘You understand it’s not just me saying it?’

‘Yeah, I get it.’

He went back to the verandah and walked up the steps. He heard Brendan in their parents’ bedroom, raiding the closet for the shotguns their father kept for foxes. Sarah was cradling Amy in their bedroom. Her eyes were wide.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

He took Amy from her and held her close and whispered in her ear his love for her. It was hard to quantify. He had just moments to instil in her all he felt and he found the task impossible. Knew it would be even if he had decades. He told her she was special and beautiful and lovely and kind. He told her she was brave. Then he turned to Sarah and wrapped her in his arms.

‘Sid, will you tell me what’s happening?’ she pleaded.

‘They’re making me do something and then they’re going and we’ll be right.’

‘Making you do what?’

‘We have to go and find that old man, Moore.’

‘And then what?’

‘That’s it.’

They were still entwined, her hair in his face.

‘Just find him, that’s all?’