But, just like that, his relationship with Denni stopped. Eliza could never explain it; after all she had done, it seemed almost overnight Denni called it all off herself.

But it seemed as though no time at all passed before Eliza realised he held affection for another girl at school. Cierra Mason. She thought for a while that maybe that’s what had made Denni give up her relationship with Tom, but it seemed to be a new development; she would have noticed earlier otherwise. Just one look between Tom and Cierra told her everything she needed to know. She knew that glimmer in his eye all too well – she had been its object before, as had Denni.

If Eliza knew about Tom and Cierra, it was only a matter of time before Madison found out. And after all, she knew Tom wouldn’t settle for just one of the Mason twins. She couldn’t let that happen – Madison would tell the whole world. Wren couldn’t lose her father to the law – or worse. Eliza simply couldn’t allow it, not after she’d already lost one niece. She needed forgiveness, she needed something. She had been her Denni, the most valuable thing in her whole world – and she had killed herself, on Eliza’s watch.

Eliza had a plan to end Cierra and Tom’s relationship, but now Cierra was missing – if it came out now that Tom had been sleeping with her, he would be lynched in the street. And poor, sweet Wren would be . . .

Eliza had grown up without a father. She’d hated it, she still felt broken hearted whenever she thought of it. She wanted Wren to grow up healthy and happy. Not just with a father, but a father she could respect.

It had felt like she’d had to choose: Wren or Cierra.

It always came back to Eliza, somehow. Everything was always her responsibility. Or her fault.

No. That’s an old tool, she told herself. That’s your deadbeat mother talking. Nothing is your fault. It’s not your fault Tom takes whatever he wants. It’s not your fault he went after Cierra.

Eliza rubbed her forehead. She thought of her nieces. Both Wren and Denni. You have permission to be strong.

She walked into the shower, ripping off the bandages and dressings on her head.

I, Eliza Ellis, give you permission to be strong . . .

. . . even if this is all your fault.

Right?

Strangely, unbidden, the rhyme came into her head.

Up in the hills, he hides and kills.

Down in the caves, he hides and waits.

She gently tapped her forehead against the shower tiles, trying to force it out of her brain, but all she did was beat it staccato into her consciousness. A half-memory of footsteps . . . footsteps in the scrub . . .

I won’t walk alone by the mountain trees,

or the Hungry Man will come for me.

CHAPTER 10

MURPHY