Blood Secret by Jaye Ford Page A

morning. The last I spoke to him was Friday arvo. He found a guy who could crew for me today.’
    It was Sunday, racing day at the yacht club. Max and Pete had sailed on the lake together since they were kids. They’d started in two-man sabots – and still had the trophies – then tried anything they could crew on until Pete eventually put the money together for his own racing yacht. Max had been his tactician for years – they had trophies for that, too – but for as long as Rennie had known him, Max had never crewed for Pete. The hip that had been crushed in a mine cave-in six and a half years ago didn’t cope with crawling around a boat and he tried to keep weekends free for Hayden. Instead, he’d become the go-to guy for crew. Max could find a spare sailor during a national championship if Pete needed one.
    â€˜Will you let me know if you hear from him?’ Rennie asked.
    â€˜I can do better than that. I’ll do a ring-around and ask if anyone else’s had a phone call.’
    â€˜Thanks, Pete. Can you tell people not to ring unless they’ve heard something? I don’t want to tie up the phone.’ She gave him her mobile number then phoned the commodore of the Haven Bay Sailing Club, the president of the soccer club, the captain of the team Max coached, apologising for calling so early and getting a ‘No, haven’t heard’ from all of them. Then she tried his office manager, Amanda, who had already heard from James, and two friends from his days down the mines. Between them all, there were calls being made all around the lake.
    She put the address book in her handbag with her mobile and wrote two notes: one for Hayden telling him she’d be back later and to make his own breakfast; the other for Max – I’m worried. Call me. Please. She put his in an envelope with his name on the front and sealed it in case Hayden was tempted to help himself. Taking a photo from the buffet and hutch, she pulled the picture from the frame and slid it into her purse.
    At the second bedroom, she stuck her head in, turning her nose up at the smell. Hayden had only been in there a few hours and it already stank of smelly shoes and BO. He was on top of the covers in boxers and a T-shirt, looking like he’d been knocked unconscious falling from the ceiling – flat on his back, arms spread, legs jumbled, mouth gaping.
    He’d told her, like she was stupid, that he didn’t have to go to school on Monday – he was at a private school, they broke up three weeks before Christmas. In the restless early hours of the morning, she’d considered driving him all the way to the airport to meet his mother. Rennie didn’t want him here while Max was missing. Yeah, okay, Max might be back any second; he might breeze through the door and say, ‘Hey, babe.’ And if he did, she didn’t want Hayden in earshot while Max explained why he’d stayed out all night, didn’t want Hayden’s adolescent sneer in her face if it got messy between them. And if Max didn’t, if he stayed missing or if he was . . . found, she didn’t want Hayden around while she tried to deal with it.
    And Hayden wouldn’t need her brand of coping if things turned bad. She didn’t know about kids. She’d never had any of her own and didn’t intend to. Her DNA was flawed; every member of her family had been screwed up and scarred by it and she had no intention of passing that on to a child. Besides, the life she’d had and the things she’d done hadn’t given her the skills for bringing up a normal human being.
    Her old hatchback was in the garage but the memory of the kid and his four-wheel drive made her take Max’s big work car instead, making a detour before heading to the police station in Toronto and going back along the road they’d taken to the party. It wasn’t the quickest route to the cafe and she