Free Fall by Candice Fox Page A

patched roof.
    â€˜Impressed?’
    She said nothing. A call came through in my ears and I answered it with the button on the cord at my chest.
    â€˜Frank Bennett.’
    â€˜What’s up, dickhead?’
    â€˜Well, well. What’s up, Hooky baby?’
    â€˜I called to see what’s happening with that girl,’ Hooky said. ‘The park girl.’
    â€˜Piqued your curiosity, has it?’ I laughed. Imogen was watching me carefully. I made an apologetic motion and got up, heard both my knees crack. I moved down the hall.
    â€˜I like to keep abreast of these things,’ Hooky said. I could hear a train in the background. ‘North Sydney’s not letting me have any fun while my exams are on. My life has become very pedestrian very quickly.’
    I walked out the front of my terrace and told Hooky what I knew so far about Ivana Lyon’s murder. It was a cool night, but nice. Next door, the young family was getting ready for bed,bath-damp little kids around the couch, and mother brushing hair out of eyes, getting her sleep-time promises. A little fairytale behind glass, like those robotic Christmas displays they used to put up in shopping centres. Mum perpetually smiling, nodding. Shiny boxes around a pipe-cleaner tree. I watched a possum clamber along the guttering above the upper-floor windows of my terrace and slip silently through the broken front window into the empty upstairs bedroom. I updated Hooky on everything I had. When my eyes fell I saw Imogen standing in the doorway. I made another apologetic wave and finished up with Amy, grabbed Imogen and kissed her as I walked inside.
    â€˜Who was that?’
    â€˜Girl who works for my old station,’ I said, half-dreaming at the sound of my feet on my own floorboards.
    â€˜Woman who works for your old station,’ Imogen corrected.
    â€˜No, actually,’ I laughed. ‘Girl. She’s seventeen. Does some consulting work for us.’ I could hear the possum on the upstairs floor. I banged on the wall and listened to it scurry in terror. Imogen followed me back into the kitchen, where I retrieved the curry boxes, snuck a forkful of massaman from one. ‘We can go to yours now, if you like. I’m done here.’
    â€˜Great.’ She slapped my butt when I bent to get my backpack. She stood in the doorway as I gathered up bits and pieces I needed – mostly paperwork.
    â€˜What’s a seventeen-year-old girl doing calling a middle-aged man on his mobile?’ she said suddenly. The words tumbled out of her fast, as though she’d spent the last couple of minutes holding them back, trying to talk herself out of them.
    â€˜Huh?’
    â€˜It’s just a little bit slutty, isn’t it?’
    I laughed. It was a half-humoured laugh, half-shocked one. I wasn’t used to Imogen using dirty words. And the thought of Hooky being anything close to warranting the term ‘slut’ was absurd. I thought of her as something like an odd ball little sister, or a niece. A little bird I’d seen take a big hit once, but I was now happy to see flying again.
    â€˜Slutty? Oh my god! She was just calling for an update on the case.’
    â€˜An update on the case,’ Imogen scoffed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. It was half sneer.
    â€˜She was.’
    â€˜Is it her case?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Uh-huh,’ Imogen folded her arms. ‘You called her “baby”.’
    â€˜Holy crap, you’re jealous. This is hilarious.’
    â€˜Is it?’
    â€˜I’ve always called her “baby”. It’s not baby like … baby. Amy is a baby. She’s like … a little girl.’
    â€˜You call me baby.’
    â€˜Ah. Well, I use the term with a different intention.’ This conversation was getting weird.
    â€˜Uh-huh,’ Imogen said.
    She looked at me standing there with the curry boxes in my hands and my backpack on my shoulder. It was almost as