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Back The Last Guests
Chapters (54)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART ONE
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. DEADLY SAS RAID IN AFGHANISTAN UNDER SCRUTINY
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. PART TWO
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. DANIEL MOORE: ‘A SINGLE BLOKE, HAPPY-GO-LUCKY, A BIT OF A DUNCE BUT WITH A GOOD HEART,’ BEST FRIEND SAYS.
  38. THIRTY
  39. THIRTY-ONE
  40. THIRTY-TWO
  41. THIRTY-THREE
  42. THIRTY-FOUR
  43. THIRTY-FIVE
  44. BREAKING: POLICE CONFIRM DANIEL MOORE ACTED ALONE
  45. THIRTY-SIX
  46. THIRTY-SEVEN
  47. THIRTY-EIGHT
  48. THIRTY-NINE
  49. SECOND ARREST MADE IN WESTAY HIDDEN CAMERAS CASE
  50. EPILOGUE
  51. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  52. Discover More
  53. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  54. Also by J. P. Pomare

BY THE TIME I get home, morning has broken in a cloudless blue full of birdsong. There is no point entering silently when I know Cain is likely already awake. On the way to the bedroom, I stop at his study and gently press the door open. It’s warmer in here but he’s not up. There’s no sound or movement in the house, so I step inside the room, moving on the balls of my feet towards his laptop, the two curved monitors on the wooden desk. He spends a lot of time at this desk. I reach for the computer, rest my hand on the side of the casing and feel for heat but it’s cool. I could turn it on, snoop through his things for some evidence. But now that I’m home what Rata was suggesting about Cain seems more and more ridiculous. If Cain knew about the cameras, he would know what I did. He would have left me. He’s not a pervert, not a voyeur. I know him well enough to know that. So what if it was a ploy? Some move to get me to admit to something I didn’t do? Or what if they saw someone who looked like Cain at the house. It might have been another Maori boy, or the owner, or a Jehovah’s Witness. Maybe even the cleaner… at night time? Perhaps not, but people make mistakes. There’s no way to know for sure that it really was him they saw or if they saw anyone at all.

I move now from his study back into the hallway, up the stairs and towards the bedroom before he has a chance to find me snooping. The curtains are closed, I use my phone as a light, crossing the room towards the ensuite. He doesn’t speak or move. Teeth brushed, face washed, I strip down, open the covers and slide in. This could be a mistake, coming back here as if nothing has changed but then what other options do I have? A small paunch is now pressing against the band of my underwear. The baby is growing. My chest flutters just thinking about it, the fact I will be a mother. I may never drink again, I will be perfect to this child.

I reach out, touch Cain’s chest, feel his warm skin.

‘You’re late.’

His voice makes me jolt. ‘You gave me a fright,’ I reply.

He doesn’t speak again.