They met at the station a little after nine the next morning. Phryne had spent half the night thinking about Jack, and the other half dreaming about him, so when she finally saw him sitting there behind his desk she had to resist the urge to straddle his lap and start unknotting his tie right then and there. But, she reminded herself, if she was a good girl now he might just reward her later. Her lips curved at the thought, and she realised that she had not only missed whatever it was he had said but also somehow missed the fact that he was now standing right beside her.

"Sorry, Jack, I was miles away."

The corners of his eyes creased with amusement. "I said, are you ready?"

His words recalled her to their sad task: apprehending a young man who had killed to avenge his sister, and setting in motion the wheels of justice that would hang him. She drew a deep breath. "I am."

Collins drove, and she had the perfect opportunity to study the back of Jack's neck as they approached the Fitzroy garage that was Thomas Halswell's last known place of work. The only photograph Mrs. Halswell had been able to supply had been years out of date, but even so it was easy enough to recognise their man. He straightened at their approach and showed neither surprise nor fear, nor any sign of either running or fighting, but simply stood and waited for them to close the gap between them.

"'Absalom'?" Jack asked, as Constable Collins produced the handcuffs.

Halswell smiled slightly. "I knew someone would figure it out."

...

He came quietly and sat calmly at the table in the interview room, Phryne and Jack seated across from him and Collins taking notes in the background.

"I suppose you've figured out why I did it?" Halswell asked, and Jack nodded. "Our mother died when we were little. I doubt Annie even remembered her. It was tough; our father tried his best, but what does a man know about raising two little ones? A year or so later he met Elsie White. She had a son, Peter. He was only a year older than me, but a lot bigger. So there they were, a man on his own with two little ones, and a woman with a son in need of a father. They did the logical thing. Right from the start, Peter bullied us mercilessly, especially me. My stepmother always took his part, and dad always took her part, so there weren't nothing much we could do. We stuck together as much as we could, stayed away as much as we could, and life went on. But then, when I was about fifteen, I found Annie crying."

For the first time, expression filled his face: anger and grief and hatred. "She told me he'd been interfering with her. At night, or any time he could get her alone. She never felt safe, and he always told her she was asking for it and he'd hurt her if she ever said anything. She begged me not to tell, and what could I do? I started looking for work after that. I thought, if I could just get a job, if I just had money, I could take her away. But who wants to hire a skinny kid from Collingwood what can barely read and write?

"Anyway, one night Annie stands up to clear the dishes from the table, and Elsie takes one look at her and goes 'what have you been up to, you filthy slut?' And as soon as I looked at her, I could see what she meant: Annie was expecting. Well, dad started shouting, and Annie was crying, and Peter was smirking at it all, and I couldn't take it any more. I started yelling at him, I don't remember what, except that I said it was all his fault, and Elsie called me a filthy liar and started screaming about how we'd had it in for her and Petey ever since she and dad had married, and somewhere in all of that, Annie ran out of the house. I didn't even see her go." He drew a shuddering breath and repeated, "I didn't even see her go." Head down, he wept for a few moments.

"What happened then?" Phryne prompted gently.

"They found her body in the Yarra the next day. She drowned herself." He looked up, agony in his eyes. "She drowned herself because of him, because of them, and there was nothing I could do to stop it." Another deep breath, and he continued in a calmer tone. "That day I left home forever. Dad came to see me, a few months before he died, tried to talk to me about coming back. I asked him if Peter was still there, and he said of course he was, so I told him to go to hell. Few months later, he was dead. Then I saw Peter hanging around near the garage a few weeks ago. He was watching the bosses daughter, and I knew," he shook his head. "I knew what that filthy bastard was thinking. Why not? He got away with it once, why not do the same thing again? And my father was dead, and Annie too, and I thought, why not? Why not make the bastard pay for his sins, and make his mother suffer the way her son made me and Annie suffer, and save another innocent girl the pain my sister went through? So I went back to Collingwood. I followed him when he went out with his friends, and when he staggered home, drunk of course, I was waiting for him with a piece of lead pipe."

He smiled grimly. "One good whack to the back of his head, and it was all over. I dragged him into a truck from work, drove him down to the river, and carved his sins right into his chest. I wanted everyone who saw him to know what he'd done. Then I threw him off of the same bridge my sister must have jumped off, and drove the truck back to the garage. You can hang me now and I don't care. I did a good day's work the day I made Peter White pay for his sins."