“You need to move.”
He was glaring at her, his eyes burning with anger in a way she’d never seen. But she stood her ground.
“This isn’t you, Jago. You don’t hurt people.”
“Maybe it’s time to start.”
He stepped to the side. Nat jumped in front of him. Colour rushed to Jago’s face. He leaned in, clamping his teeth together.
“What do you care anyway?” he hissed. “It’s not like you give a shit about anyone.”
The words were like a punch to Nat’s gut. She winced. “I’m standing in your way because I do give a shit.”
“The only thing you give a shit about is making yourself the most ostracised person in town because God forbid what might happen if you actually let someone care about you. Maybe that dead heart of yours might actually start beating.”
He glared at her, his complexion flushing to a deep scarlet. But he wasn’t just angry now, she could see. He was embarrassed. He turned away, planting his gaze firmly on the hotel.
“Come with me, don’t come with me. I don’t care anymore.”
This time, when Jago stepped to the side, Nat remained still. She watched him stalk across Cove Road, heading back into town. Tears brimmed in her eyes. Invisible hands pressed down on her chest. But she did not call out for him. She did not beg him to come back. Turning on her heels, she stared across the beach at the dark sea. She felt completely alone. More than that, she felt afraid.
Something terrible was happening in this town. She could sense it like a darkness, seeping up from the pavement and into her feet, working its way through her veins.
“Screw you, Jago,” she said.
Giving the hotel once last glance, she headed back home.
40
AN OMINOUS MOOD STALKED the Killigrew house, moving from room to room. In the kitchen, Carrie stood in front of the work top, pushing her fists into a large ball of dough. She had been overjoyed to see Cal asleep in his bed, but now she was consumed by misery. Cal could speak. But he didn’t want to speak to her.
At the kitchen table, Melissa sat alone, kneading her own piece of dough. She had wanted to play with Cal but Carrie had insisted she helped with the bread. She couldn’t allow her children to be alone together, not until she knew what had been said between them. Melissa had responded by sitting in self-imposed silence while shooting angry glares across the kitchen.
In the living room, Cal sat on the couch and watched television. He flicked from channel to channel, watching but not really watching. Occasionally, he glanced at the open door and a deep crease burrowed into his brow.
The dough was ready. Carrie dumped it in a mixing bowl and covered it with a towel. “Are you done?” she asked Melissa, who wordlessly held out her piece of dough. Carrie placed it inside a smaller bowl and covered it with another towel. “We need to put this somewhere warm so it can rise.”
Melissa shrugged her shoulders.
“You’re not talking to me, either?” Carrie watched her daughter turned away. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
Opening the pantry, she placed both bowls of dough inside, then began clearing up the floury kitchen worktop.
The sound of the doorbell chimed through the hall. Melissa looked up.
Pulling off her apron, Carrie draped it over a chair.
“Wait here,” she said
Melissa stuck out her lower lip.
As she made her way to the front door, Carrie glanced into the living room. Cal was standing up, his eyes fixed on the living room window.
The bell rang again. Someone started hammering on the door.
Frowning, Carrie peered through the peephole.
“Jago. . .”
The last time she’d seen him angry was when he’d lost at a game of musical chairs on his tenth birthday. But the anger she saw on his face now was much darker and deeper.
She opened the door a few inches. “What is it? What happened?”
Jago glared at her as if she were the cause of all his fury. Then he looked over her shoulder and his eyes lit up like lightning strikes.
“I need to see Cal,” he said.
Carrie turned around. Cal was standing in the hall, watching Jago. “Why?”
“I need to talk to him.” He moved forward.
Carrie blocked his way. “I think you better talk to me first. What’s going on?”
Jago pressed his lips together. He was staring at Cal now with an intensity that scared her.
“If you can’t talk to me, Jago, you’d better turn around and go because whatever’s on your mind, I don’t like the way you’re looking at my son.”
Jago’s angry gaze met hers. For a second, she thought he was going to barge past.
“I found something,” he said, at last. “Up at the hotel.”
“What were you doing up there?”
“Looking for Noah.”
Carrie glanced back at Cal, who hadn’t moved an inch. “What did you find?”
“You don’t want to know.” The fury in his eyes wavered and was replaced with horror. He lowered his head. “Please, Carrie. I’m not here to cause trouble. I just need to ask some questions.”
For a long moment, they stood facing each other as Carrie tried to read his thoughts. Some of the anger had left him. Whatever he’d seen up at the hotel had left a mark. And as wary as Carrie was about letting Jago into her home in such a volatile mood, she found herself desperate to know what had happened. She looked over her shoulder at Cal, who stared right back.
She opened the door wider. “No trouble. I mean it.”
Jago held up his hands.
Standing aside to let him in, she closed the door then pointed to the living room. Jago headed for it, eyeing Cal as he passed by.
“Give me a minute,” Carrie said, touching Cal’s arm. Melissa appeared from the kitchen and Carrie held up a hand. “Stay there.”
She followed Jago into the living room, where she found him pacing up and down in front of the television.
“Now, do you want to tell me what the hell’s going on?” Carrie said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Sucking in a breath, Jago told her what he’d found. The toys. The comic book. The bloody, severed tail that he thought belonged to Rose’s cat, Honey.
Carrie listened with mounting horror. Every few seconds or so, she checked the doorway. She could see Cal’s shadow on the floor. He was listening to every word.
“I think whoever killed Margaret’s dog has been hiding out at the hotel,” Jago said.
“What does that have to do with Cal?” Carrie was disturbed by what he’d told her. She glanced back at the door. “Because if you’re thinking he has something to do with this, you’re wrong. He’s barely left the house since he came home. And any time he’s been outside, he’s been with me.”
Jago looked disappointed.
Was that why he was here? Because he believed Cal had killed Margaret’s dog? Was that what the people of Porth an Jowl were thinking, too? The very thought of it made Carrie feel sick to her stomach. But the toy figures Jago had found—she couldn’t get them out of her head.
“How could you even believe that?” she whispered. “You’re supposed to be Cal’s friend.”
Jago stared at the floor. “That was a long time ago.”
“Then why are you here, Jago?”
He looked up, his eyes two black pools. “I want to know where my little brother is. I want to know if he’s still alive.”
His shoulders drooped. For a second, those black pools became glistening and watery.
Carrie felt pain emanating from him like radiation. It was nauseating.
Jago’s expression hardened once more.
“I showed him Noah’s picture,” he said, defiantly. “The last time I was here. When you were in the kitchen.”
Carrie’s pity turned to anger. She’d been right to be suspicious, after all. “You promised me, Jago. You said me you weren’t going to do that.”
“I had no choice. Cal recognised him. He recognised Noah.”
Confusion swept over Carrie. She was furious with Jago for breaking her trust and upsetting Cal, but she was also angry at herself. All she’d wanted was for Cal to forget everything that had happened and resume a normal life. For them to be a family again. Deep down, she’d known that Cal could lead them to Noah. She’d felt it as if she knew where to find him herself. But it hadn’t stopped her from wishing him to forget. It hadn’t stopped her from wishing for her family’s happiness over Noah’s life.
“Cal,” she said, her voice shaking.
He appeared in the doorway with hunched shoulders and his fingers pressed into his thighs.
“Do you know something? Do you know where we can find Noah?”
For a moment, she thought he was going to run upstairs. But to her surprise, he stepped into the room.
“I know it’s hard for you,” Carrie said. “I know it’s scary, but can you answer one question? Just one question, that’s all.”
She glanced at Jago, who slipped off his backpack and pulled out a roll of posters. He held one up. Noah’s smiling face stared out.
“Was my brother with you?” he said, no longer able to mask the desperation in his voice.
Cal stared at the poster. His jaw clenched.
“Please, Cal,” Carrie said. “Try to think. He’s four years old. He vanished two months ago.”
“Jesus Christ, why can’t you just tell us?” Jago suddenly snapped. He thrust the poster forward. “Is my brother dead?”
Carrie shot him a look, silencing him. She took another step closer to her son. “We just want to know where we can find him. So he can be free like you.”
Cal stepped back. His eyes were fixed on Jago, like a mouse watching a snake.
“Please, Cal,” Carrie could feel Jago’s anger seeping into her. Infecting her. She tried to expel it. “Please, talk to me.”
Before she could register what was happening, Jago threw his bag down and launched himself across the room. Carrie watched open-mouthed as he grabbed Cal by the front of his T-shirt and pushed him into the hall and up against the stair rail.
“Enough of this shit,” he snarled, his face inches from Cal’s. “Tell me where my brother is or so help me God...”
“Jago, stop!”
Carrie flew at them.
Jago raised a fist and aimed it at Cal’s face.
“Where is my brother?” he roared.
Everything seemed to slow down. Jago drew back his fist, ready to strike. Carrie ploughed forward, making a grab for his arm.
Cal’s lips curled back over his teeth in a vicious sneer. Then he lunged at Jago’s neck.
Teeth sank into flesh. There was terrible scream.
Carrie was flung to the side as Jago crashed onto his back. Cal was on top of him, his jaws clamped to his neck. Jago thrashed his arms and legs. He screamed in agony. He brought his fists up and pummelled Cal in the ribs.
“Cal, stop!” Carrie shrieked.
But he would not stop. He was a wild animal, his eyes rolling in their sockets, oblivious to Jago’s blows.
Carrie scrambled to her feet. “Cal, please!”
She brought her hand up and slapped him hard across the back of his head.
Startled, Cal released his grip on Jago’s neck and rolled off him. He crouched back on his haunches and glared at Carrie. Blood smeared his lips and jaw. His eyes were wild, primal. Barely human.
Jago kicked his feet against the floor, pushing himself away from Cal.
Swooping down, Carrie helped him to sit up. There were teeth marks on his neck, raw and bloody. They were Cal’s teeth marks. Her son’s.
Carrie was frozen in a shock-induced paralysis. Her eyes swung from the wound on Jago’s neck to her son’s bloody mouth and back again, not quite comprehending what she was seeing.
A small shape hovered in the kitchen doorway.
Melissa looked up with wide, terrified eyes. Tears streamed down her face.
Carrie shook herself free.
“Stay in the kitchen, sweet pea! Everything’s okay.”
But nothing was okay. Even a four-year-old could see that.
Cal had gone into some sort of trance. He remained crouched up against the stairs, blood and saliva dripping from his chin, his eyes distant and glassy.
Melissa was still hovering at the end of the hall, her shoulders shivering with every sob.
“Please, baby. Go in the kitchen. I’ll be right there.”
A groan made Carrie look down. Jago was pushed up against the wall, blood oozing down his neck.
“Let me help you,” she said, one eye on Cal. She was afraid of him. Afraid of her own son. What if he pounced again? What if he went after Melissa?
Jago pulled away from her. Using the wall, he pushed himself to his feet. A bloody hand clamped across his neck, he stumbled past Carrie.
“Jago, please wait!”
He threw open the door, letting in the late afternoon light. He turned to face her, his skin ashen.
“If my brother dies, it will be your fault,” he choked. “You’ve let a monster into your home.”
Before Carrie could say another word, Jago fled from the house.
Panic gripped her. The neighbours would see him running down the street, a bloody bite mark tattooed on his neck. They would know where he was running from. And it would be over for Cal—he would never be welcome in the cove.
If she went after Jago, if she persuaded him to come back, she could talk to him. Calm him down. Make sure he didn’t tell anyone about what Cal had done.
Behind her, Cal was still on his haunches, blood smeared across his mouth. This was not her son. Her son was good and kind and had so much love to give. The boy in her hallway was a feral beast.
Slowly, Carrie shut the front door. Melissa hadn’t moved, although she’d stopped crying.
“Go upstairs,” Carrie said to Cal. “Go and wash your face. Then go to your room and stay there.”
Cal didn’t move. He was still in a trance, like a lion after a kill.
“Now!” Carrie bellowed. She shoved her hands into her pockets, preventing them from lashing out.
Cal blinked as if he’d just woken up. Wiping a hand across his mouth, he stared at his bloody fingers. Confusion rippled across his face. He stood. Without making eye contact, he turned and made his way upstairs.
Carrie heard him close the bathroom door. She heard running water. Then she clamped her hands over her mouth and collapsed against the door.
“Mummy?”
Her heart was beating so hard it hurt. She couldn’t think straight. What had been done to her son? The water shut off. A second later, the bathroom door opened. She heard Cal’s footsteps, soft and deliberate, on the upstairs landing. His bedroom door closed.
Carrie glanced down and saw splashes of Jago’s blood on the floorboards. A bloody hand print smeared the wall.
“Mummy, I don’t like Cal anymore.”
She looked up. Melissa was tiny and fragile. Carrie imagined a dog snatching up a rag doll in its powerful jaws and shaking it furiously from side to side. She propelled herself through the hall and swept her daughter up in her arms.
“It’s going to be all right. You’re going for a sleepover at Nana Joy’s.”
Taking her into the kitchen, she set her down at the table, then grabbed the phone from the wall.
“Is Cal coming, too?”
“No, he’s staying right here.”
“But what if the bad man gets me?”
Carrie’s fingers hovered over the telephone keypad. If there was a time for Melissa to talk it was now. The phone still clutched in her hand, she crouched down beside her daughter and looked up into her frightened eyes.
“Why did you draw Noah in your picture?”
Melissa’s lower lip began to tremble.
“Please, sweet pea. Don’t you want to see Noah again? Has Cal said anything about him? Anything at all?”
Now, Melissa began to cry. She nodded.
Carrie held onto the table as the room began to spin. She resisted the urge to fly upstairs and shake answers from her son.
“What does Cal say about Noah?” she whispered.
“He goes to see him,” Melissa sobbed, rubbing her eye with a fist.
“But that isn’t true. Cal has been here all the time. We’re always together.”
“At night time,” her daughter wept. “He goes when we’re sleeping.”
She couldn’t breathe. A deafening rush of blood in her ears buried Melissa’s weeping. Carrie stood. The room swayed. She moved away from the table, turning her back to the room.
With trembling fingers, she dialled Joy Killigrew’s number.
41
BY THE TIME JAGO STUMBLED into his kitchen, the side of his neck was a swollen mass of blood and bruise. Pain shot through his tendons to the top of his skull as he tore open the freezer door and pulled out a tray of ice.
He looked around for a clean towel. Dirty dishes filled the sink. Food crumbs covered the surfaces and the floor. Grabbing a towel from the oven handle, he smashed the tray against the worktop to loosen its contents, then set about fashioning an ice pack. He pressed it to his neck. Fiery pain ripped through him. He winced, sucking in air between his teeth, and waited for the pain to subside.
He was furious. And at the same time filled with despair. Images of Cal flashed in his mind. He was barely human. Beyond saving. The Cal he knew was dead. Did it mean that Noah was dead, too?
A deep, wrenching emptiness tore open his stomach. To never see his brother again would break him. Noah had been the heart and soul of the Pengelly family. He had been hope and happiness, proof that even in the darkest hours, light could prevail.
Now that light was gone. And with it, Jago’s final shred of hope.
“What happened to you?”
His mother stood in the doorway, dressed in three-day old clothes. Her hair was lank and greasy. The circles under her eyes were like black holes. It was as if Noah had been the air she breathed and now she was dying.
It made Jago furious. Because he was her son, too. And he was still here. Still alive.
The Cove: a shocking thriller you won't be able to put down (The Devil's Cove Book 1) Page 22
