Hit List by Jack Heath

nothing.”
    “We can hand it in to the cops.”
    “And how exactly are we going to say we acquired it?”
    He had a point. “We can drop it in anonymously,” Ash said.
    “Leading them to believe it’s a hoax. What kind of hostage can get to a police station to deliver a distress call?”
    “Maybe it is a hoax.”
    “And maybe it isn’t. Anyway, what if where it was found is an important clue? The cops might not be able to help her without all the facts.”
    “You’re suggesting that we keep them out of it and attempt a rescue mission ourselves?”
    “We took the note,” Benjamin said. “It’s our responsibility now.”
    That’s generous, Ash thought. We didn’t take the note. I did.
    Ash’s father was climbing out of the car. “If my dad sees you here, we’re both in trouble,” she said. “Call Buckland. Tell him about the note, see what he says.
Give him the drive, too. Okay?”
    “Okay,” Benjamin said. “See you later.”
    “See you,” Ash said.
    Traditionally, Benjamin punctuated his goodbyes by asking Ash out – for a coffee, to see a concert, to go skydiving. But this time he just started pedalling, gained some speed, and was
gone.
    “Ash!” It was her father. “Over here.”
    She jogged over to him.
    “How was the social?” he asked.
    “Surprising,” she said. “Thanks for making me go.”
    Her father smiled. “Any time.”
    They drove home in comfortable silence. It wasn’t until Ash was inside and walking past the kitchen that she realized she was starving. She hadn’t had dinner before the social. In
fact, she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.
    She microwaved some leftover pasta and wolfed it down. It wasn’t great – her father rarely put much effort into his cooking when she wasn’t around – but it filled the
gaping hole in her stomach. Afterwards, she scooped some cold blueberry pie into two bowls and gave one to her dad. They ate in front of the TV.
    Ash finished eating, washed the dishes, said goodnight and was shuffling towards her bedroom when her father called out.
    “Ash?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Have you heard from your mother lately?”
    Ash frowned. This was the first time he’d mentioned her in months. “No, why?”
    “She hasn’t cashed the last two cheques.”
    Ash’s father was supposed to make regular alimony and child support payments to her mother, even though he was the one living with Ash and his ex-wife was the one with a well-paid job. How
that was legal, Ash wasn’t sure – she suspected it was mostly sexism on the part of the courts.
    This situation occasionally eased Ash’s guilty feelings about her criminal ventures. What was legal, she knew, wasn’t always what was right.
    “That’s not like her,” she told her father. “Maybe she’s grown a conscience.”
    “Hey!” His stare was sharp. “That’s your mother you’re talking about.”
    I’m uncomfortably aware of that, Ash thought. “She ditched us. The fact that she’s my mother makes that worse, not better.”
    He looked away.
    “Anyway, I haven’t spoken to her,” Ash said. “In years.”
    Quietly, her father said, “Okay. Just asking.”
    Ash went into her bedroom and shut the door.
    She never had trouble sleeping. She supposed that was the reward for leading an active life. Exhaustion. Her arms and legs felt heavy as she changed into her pyjamas, lifted the duvet, and
tumbled into bed. Her eyes were closed before her head hit the pillow.
    She was just starting to dream about Detective Wright – how his real first name was Alice, and the note was part of an elaborate trap to ensnare her, and now he knew her phone number
because Benjamin had accidentally mentioned it and he was calling her, tracing the signal, storming towards her front door – when she realized her phone was actually ringing in real life.
    She knocked a few things off her bedside table groping around for it. She blinked away the blur of sleep to check the caller ID.