By the Time You Read This

50

FRANK ROWLEY LIFTED HIS guitar case into the trunk of the car and laid it flat. Then he loaded the miniature pink suitcase decorated with Disney creatures for Tara. She was standing in the driveway now in her pink ski jacket, the wind whipping her blond hair across her face. Finally, he wedged his own suitcase in beside the guitar. He had packed it carefully, sliding his laptop between a couple of pairs of jeans, and hiding the new webcam in a pair of balled-up socks. Soon he and Tara would be on the road, alone together, and Rowley’s heart was pounding at the prospect.

“Pretty big suitcase for two days,” Wendy said. She hadn’t bothered to put on a coat. She stood behind Tara, hugging her daughter’s oversized teddy bear to keep warm.

“You know me. I always overpack.”

“It’s so windy,” she said. “Maybe you shouldn’t set out tonight.”

“Nonsense,” Rowley said. “Best time to go. No traffic, and we’ll get there in plenty of time to have a good long sleep. Then first thing in the morning we’re gonna be banging on WonderWorld’s gate to let us in. Aren’t we, Tara?”

“Yes! Yes!” Tara shouted. “Wild Mouse!”

“It’s gonna work out great,” Frank said to Wendy. “We get all day Friday at WonderWorld, and Saturday morning, and then Saturday afternoon I play my wedding. She’ll be fine. They only booked us for two hours, and Terry’ll look after her.”

Terry was the bass player’s wife who insisted on coming to all the gigs, her husband being a solid musician but a wayward mate.

“The wind’s blowing your wig all crooked,” Wendy said.

“I know, I know.” Rowley reached up and adjusted the hairpiece.

“It looks cool!” Tara said.

“I don’t know why you’re wearing it. You’re not playing till Saturday.”

“Because Tara likes it, and I promised I would. Didn’t I, Tara?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Okay, hotshot. Hop in.”

“I want to put Teddy in first.”

Wendy opened the back door and the bear was solemnly strapped in. Then she buckled her daughter into the front passenger seat.

“You be good, now, you hear.”

“I will.”

Wendy gave her a hug and a kiss on the head. “I’m gonna miss you, sweetums.”

“Mommy, it’s only for two days!”

Frank smiled at Wendy with a kids-what-can-you-do sort of smile.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll look after her.”

A car swung into the driveway followed by a black and white patrol car. Rowley shielded his eyes with his forearm against the headlights. The silence of their approach, the decisiveness of their stopping—he knew the police were not here by mistake. He also knew there was only one thing it could be about, and felt the first prickle of fear on his skin, and sweat breaking out between his shoulder blades.

“Can we help you?” he said, before he recognized the woman coming toward him. “Oh, hey, I remember you. You’re the detective from the marina.”

“That’s right,” Detective Delorme said. But she turned immediately to Wendy and introduced herself, holding up her ID. “Ma’am, is that your daughter in the car?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Would you take her inside, please?”

“Why? What’s going on here?”

“Take her inside please. I’m here to arrest Mr. Rowley, and I don’t want to do it in front of your daughter.”

“Arrest him! You can’t arrest him. He hasn’t done anything.”

“Go ahead and take her inside,” Rowley said. “I’ll sort it all out at the station.”

“But what’s going on?”

“Honey, take her inside.”

Rowley watched Wendy scoop Tara out of the front seat. The howls of protest started before they were halfway to the house.

“Frank Rowley, you’re under arrest for the production and distribution of child pornography. We’ll be seizing any computers, cameras, hard drives, discs or other storage devices in your possession. Further charges of child abuse and sexual assault will be laid at the discretion of the Crown attorney.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rowley said. “I never touched that girl.”

“We’re not talking about this girl,” Delorme said, and snapped the cuffs on him.