Free Blood Secret by Jaye Ford Page B

that kind of life was in her reality. She didn’t resent it; it was just the way it was, like every other ugly detail of her life.
    Dr Foy tried to tell her she had as much right to a home as anybody else, that she deserved to love someone who would love her back without wanting to hurt her, that she didn’t have to live in the shadow of her father’s violence forever. It sounded nice and Rennie had agreed – she just didn’t believe it.
    Then she met Max. Gentle, patient, willing to accept whatever she was able to give. He hadn’t asked why, was just happy to help her find a new way to live. He encouraged her to get lost in her painting, made her laugh as though she’d never done it before, like the girl in her dreams. And taught her about love.
    She should have left. Jo told her; she told herself. But she didn’t, and most days she convinced herself not to think about it. Her father was sentenced to fifteen years. She and Jo wasted six of them being wild and reckless and free of him until it ended in violence of Rennie’s making – and three days a week on Dr Foy’s couch. Then she’d landed here and spent five years learning to live like everyone else, knowing it wouldn’t last forever. At best, she had four to go before she had to shut it all down and run again.
    Now though, as she kept watch on the splat of blood and waited for the cops, she saw how her sister could be right. That the fairytale could hurt her as much as her parents had. To have it, to hold it, breathe and exist for it – then have it ripped away.
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9
    Rennie was shielding her eyes from the late morning glare, watching two uniformed cops string crime scene tape around the blood, when Trish found her. She had a large takeaway coffee in each hand, passed one over then used the free hand to give Rennie’s shoulder a gentle rub.
    â€˜How you doing, hon?’
    Rennie didn’t know how to answer that so she gave her an update instead. ‘They’re sending out a detective and a crime scene officer.’
    Trish pulled in a breath.
    â€˜Apparently, it could take a few hours for them to get here.’
    â€˜A few hours ?’
    She wanted to throw her hands up and shout, Yeah, hours. Goddamn hours, can you believe that? ‘Uh-huh.’
    Trish switched from shoulder-rubbing to a quick squeeze of the arm. ‘Is this what you found?’ She stepped to the now completed enclosure of police tape.
    â€˜Yep.’ Rennie gulped at the coffee, feeling its heat make its way to her stomach and the caffeine hit the tension in her shoulders.
    â€˜What do they think?’
    Rennie glanced at the two officers who were back at the patrol car talking by the open driver’s door. ‘They agree it looks like blood and that in light of the missing persons report, they need to take samples.’
    â€˜So they think it’s got something to do with Max?’
    She shrugged, frustrated, irritated. ‘Not necessarily. They take the samples in case it’s required later as evidence. In case it turns out Max didn’t pop off somewhere in the middle of the night by choice but is actually lying bleeding somewhere while they’re standing around talking.’ She turned her back on them, drank more coffee.
    Trish moved to her side. ‘Hey, you don’t know what’s happened. It might not be his blood. I heard there was a fight at the pub last night after we closed up. Someone else might have been bleeding out here.’
    Rennie nodded. ‘Yeah, you’re right, you’re right. He might not be hurt but it still doesn’t explain where he is. It just feels like a bloody waste of time standing around in the car park when I could be . . . I don’t know, not answering the same questions from every cop I speak to. I keep telling them he doesn’t go off in a huff and he wouldn’t leave without telling me. Max wouldn’t do that.