‘Hang on. There’s one more thing.’ I saw him brace himself and wondered what was heading my way. ‘We’ll need that tech. The stuff in the safe. Our treasure hunt’s tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?’ Shaun’s treasure hunt involved hiding four different caches of confiscated phones and iPads across the island, then getting four teams of boys to look for them. ‘You’re joking.’

‘It’s better if we stick to the schedule. Less chance of mistakes.’

‘You’re sending them out on their own?’ I couldn’t believe it.

‘We’ll be right here, Rob. If they come back, we’ll be waiting for them.’ Shaun never pleaded; he laid out his arguments like artillery, blocking any escape routes. ‘You know how it works. They’ll do the right thing—they have to if they want to see their tech again. And we’re mixing it up. Putting the smart ones in with the dopes. Zac with Connor and Flynn. Tyler with Matt and Dean—’

‘Tell me you’re not sending Jake out there.’

‘Nope. I might have, if he hadn’t pulled that stunt tonight.’ Shaun’s face hardened. ‘Rhys will be drilling Jake while the rest of us man the radios and patrol the perimeter. Those kids won’t come anywhere near you. And if they get into strife, well…that’ll be our problem. Not yours.’

I shot him a sceptical look but didn’t argue. What could I have said? It was a camp; there had to be activities. And the further away the boys were, the less likely it was they’d stick nails in my floor again.

‘Joe will need the tech tomorrow,’ said Shaun. ‘Early.’

I nodded. Then I went home, cleaned my teeth and climbed into bed. I didn’t sleep well; I kept waking up and listening for the creak of floors or the rattle of windows.

If I’d known what the next day would bring, I don’t think I would have slept at all.

2009

2009

LINDA BALODIS WAS late on Wednesday morning. Aaron showed up at school before she did, trudging along behind his grandmother, her thick, blunt fingers clamped around his wrist. Joyce marched straight up to me and said, ‘Mitch McCall has a drug conviction. We’re applying for a no-contact order.’

‘A drug conviction?’ I was setting out craft supplies and paused to think. Scott must have seen me with Mitch the previous afternoon. And Joyce must have heard about it. ‘When did this happen?’ I asked. If Mitch had a working-with-children clearance, his conviction couldn’t have been for trafficking.

‘Forty-three years ago.’

‘Ah.’

‘It’s disgraceful. Aaron shouldn’t be living in the same house. We’re putting a stop to that.’ Joyce jabbed a finger at me. ‘If Mitch comes anywhere near this school again, I’ll send Aaron to St Killian’s.’

It sounded tempting. But I smiled and asked, ‘Did you visit my house yesterday?’