Esmé and Keith had joined Jason and Colin, leaving the other two policemen on their mobiles to their superiors, organising a group to retrieve the Killer’s body.
“What’s wrong, Jace?” asked Keith.
Jason muttered, “Tell you later.”
Esmé took his hand, and kissed him on the cheek.
“What happens now?” Esmé asked Colin.
“We have to get the body. And write reports. But you can go, if you want to.”
“Thanks. I think we will. We’ll go and see Cody in hospital. Which one did they take him to? Do you know?”
“Probably the Royal Melbourne. It’s the closest one with a helipad. But you might not be able to see him for a while. They have to stabilise him and then they’ll have to operate. I think the bullet hit his shoulder blade. It might be OK. Or maybe the bullet was diverted and it went somewhere else.” He was silent, and stared at them gravely. “He didn’t look good.”
“We’ll go and sit with Luigi then, while he’s waiting for them to finish with Cody,” said Esmé firmly. “He’ll need us.”
“It’s good that he has you as friends.” Colin gave a half smile. “They’ll need you, afterwards. What happened to Cody, well, and then this. He’ll need to be carefully looked after.”
“Wey’ll do that!” said Keith, firmly. “That’s what friends are for.”
The other two nodded.
They gave Colin their phone numbers, then shook hands with him and said goodbye to the other two policemen.
“You know what?” asked Jason, as they got into the car
“I give up. What?” queried Esmé.
“We haven’t had breakfast. I’m starving. No wonder I’m feeling so hollow.”
“Yeah, mey too!” said Keith.
“Ditto” agreed Esmé.
“Wey’ll droive down to the town and find a plice we can buy a huge breakfast. Bicon an’ eggs and toast and coffee!”
He turned back onto the road they’d come haring up not that long before. But this time, though they were solemn, the fear that any news could only be bad had faded. Cody was injured, but he was in competent hands. And the Killer was dead.