BooksBarbecue
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

‘Not scary, just off. I don’t know, it’s nice to have you guys with us though.’

•

Claire helps me prepare dinner and we eat at the table, fresh snapper, salad and asparagus. Cain and Axel are already a few beers deep. Claire brought non-alcoholic wine but it tastes like someone mixed apple juice with dishwater. We drink it anyway.

‘So,’ Axel says, resting on his forearm over the table with a spear of asparagus hanging limp on his fork. ‘What’s the story with the cameras? Any updates?’

‘They’re hopeless,’ Cain says. ‘Lina’s been chatting with a cop, they reckon they’ve almost got access to the website that hosts the videos.’

‘The streams,’ I correct him.

‘Sorry, the live streams. The cops have been trying to get access but it’s not easy apparently.’

‘Right,’ Axel says, thoughtfully. ‘Who is the cop?’

‘You know any?’ Cain says.

‘Yeah, I’ve got a few contacts.’

‘Rata,’ I say. ‘Detective Rata.’

‘Doesn’t ring a bell. I hope they bust them anyway.’

Cain drains the last of his beer. ‘Another one?’

‘Yep,’ Axel says. Cain goes to the fridge. Claire sips her fake wine. Makes a zombie face at me.

‘It’s not so bad,’ I say, forcing a mouthful down.

‘So what’s the plan for after dinner?’

I look to Cain, he’s already speaking. ‘Could take the dinghy over to Hot Water Beach, should be quiet this time of year,’ he says, pausing and taking a slow thoughtful sip of his beer. It’s a natural hot spring plugged into a seam of native bush, running to the sand. ‘Although we would need to fix the boat. Might be best if we do it tomorrow.’

‘And they’ve not found the guy’s phone?’ Axel says, still fixated on that night.

‘No,’ I say. ‘They can’t figure out where it is.’

It takes effort to keep the conversation going with Claire while the boys sink deeper into their session. I’m tired and fading fast. She makes the most of our chat but I’m only staying up so I don’t have to go to bed alone. There’s still fear, and the high-pitched hum of anxiety. Cain will climb in eventually, with that dampness of drink. Years ago, when we had first met, he was more courteous about it – taking a shower after an evening at the pub, brushing his teeth and delicately slipping in beneath the covers.