Inheriting Evil

by K S Logan

  Lydia wrapped a skinny arm around Grace and squeezed her tight. Grace returned the affection. After the embrace, Mrs. Hargraves still held Grace by the hand.

  “Wow, it’s been so long. How are you? Are you still working here?” Grace asked.

  “I’m doing fine, dear. Mr. Hargraves passed a few years ago now. They let me volunteer here in the library a few days a week. Honestly, I’d go batty if I didn’t have this place to keep my mind going.”

  The old librarian still wore her hair the same way—up in a severely tight bun—and still had the same brown Kirby grips scattered throughout. “How about you, Gracey? You married? I was so sad when you lost touch with your mum. How is she these days?”

  “Oh, um,” Grace stammered a little, not wanting to blurt it out and shock the poor old woman. “She actually just passed away very recently.”

  “What? No. What happened?” Lydia hugged Grace again.

  “The doctors say it was her heart.”

  “Bollocks!” Lydia announced, quite loudly, breaking her own rule of quiet in the library. “I just saw your mum last year at the fundraiser. She looked in fine fettle. I can’t believe it.”

  “Yes, I know. Apparently, Mum took ill and then had a heart attack in the hospital.” Grace saw tears well up in Lydia’s eyes.

  “So, I guess that sister of yours is chomping at the bit for the money then, eh?” Lydia’s temperament changed from sad to angry. “I’m sorry, but that son of hers is a menace. He’s no good that one. Can you believe he got away with what he did to the Stimson’s?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. What did Keaton do, Mrs. Hargraves?”

  “Oh, it’s Lydia, dear. You’re all grown up now...and very lovely.” She smiled at Grace, kindness once more in her eyes but short-lived as she continued. “Well, old Mr. Stimson, you know, out at the Fletcher place? He complained to the police about Keaton and his mates. They’re always partying loudly well into the night, and leaving litter all over behind his house.” Lydia took Grace by the arm and led her to a corner of the library, looking periodically behind as if she didn’t want anyone overhearing her gossiping. “So, it seems that when the police looked into it, they found a bunch of stolen merchandise hidden behind the property and Keaton got in some trouble there. I guess Keaton was angry at Stimson, so he set fire to his house. Someone actually saw him doing it and called it in before the fire killed the old man.”

  Grace couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Lydia wasn’t done yet, though.

  “Your sister was irate. She hired some fancy lawyer, and he actually got Keaton off of all charges. Not so much as a slap on the wrist!” Lydia’s voice was rising again, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “That’s terrible! I had no idea.” Grace knew the boy was troubled, but arson, with the intent to hurt or even kill someone? Unbelievable.

  “You should be careful around him, Grace. Your sister turns a blind eye, she doesn’t know what he’s capable of.”

  Grace agreed that she’d watch herself. The two hugged one last time before Grace headed for the exit.

  The rain outside was now a deluge. The twenty or so steps to her car had Grace completely drenched. She fumbled for her keys as the rain pounded.

  “Damn it.” She dropped her keys in a puddle beside the door, and as she bent to get them noticed a car across the lot with its high beams on. They seemed to be shining right on her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Fill you up, Mr. Elliot?” the waitress asked with a flutter of her eyelashes.

  “Aye, please,” Cameron said, nodding.

  “How was your run this morning? Quite cool out. Um, you’ve got something on your jacket there.” She leaned over and brushed a bit of sand off his shoulder, and then, deliberately, made close eye contact with him as she moved back.

  “Oh, Piper and I did a bit of wrestling on the beach. How’s he doing out there?” Cameron looked over to his right through the window, missing her advance completely, and saw his dog resting faithfully on the step.

  Most mornings, usually at the crack of dawn, one could find Cameron and Piper running along Durham beach. After a brisk forty-minute jaunt, they always stopped for a few rounds of fetch, before their daily stop at ‘The Tea and Toast.’

  Discouraged, but not surprised that her efforts, once again, went unnoticed, Carla kept at it.

  “Working on your book, I see,” she said, peeking at his notes. “Can I read what you’ve got so far?” She rubbed her fingers lightly, seductively at her cleavage, and gave him a wink.

  Cameron always took his notebook on his runs. There was a steep, craggy hill above the beach, and at the top stood the remains of an old sept. The view of the North Atlantic from the church ruins was always a source of inspiration for Cameron and his trusty Moleskin.

  Cameron moved his hand quickly to close the book and hide his private notes, inadvertently knocking his coffee, spilling some on the table.

  “Whoops,” she said. “I’ll get that.” She took the opportunity to lean over and give him another chance to look at her large breasts.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got it,” he said, stopping her. “There’s not much, thank goodness.” Cameron wiped at the little spill with his elbow. He noticed a slightly rotund, balding man flailing one arm in the air a few tables down. “Carla, I think that fellow over there is trying to wave you down.”

  Discouraged again, Carla walked over to the flabby arm, wiggling in the air. After refilling a coffee, she went back behind the counter and leaned on the pick-up window.

  “What do I have to do? Jump up and down naked in front of that guy to get his attention?” she asked Jerry, the cook.

  “It’s worth a try, I guess. Do me a favor, though, and let me know if you do. I’ll make sure I take my break and catch the show as well.” He laughed and slapped the pick-up bell.

  Carla rolled her eyes at him and picked up a hot plate of streaky bacon and fried eggs. As she delivered the meal over to table four, she barely took her eyes off her favorite, albeit oblivious, customer.

  Cameron got up and walked to the cash register. Carla rushed over, eager for another opportunity to chat with the rich, handsome author. Cameron was preoccupied, though, apparently listening in on a conversation between three young men seated at the counter beside the register.

  “Is she at least a babe, this aunt of yours?” asked the pimply one.

  One of them had a head of fiery red hair and was very fidgety, continually looking behind him and shaking his left leg. “I guess she’s okay if you’re old. She’s a fucking bitch, though,” he said. “Thinks she can just come here, out of the blue, and take over. She’s inheriting everything, man. I need the money way more than she does.”

  “Not much you can do about it if it’s in the will,” said Pimply.

  “Oh, there’s something I can do about it. Make her want to leave and if that doesn’t work, make her disappear,” said Red.

  “You probably would, you sick pup,” said the third one at the table.

  “Shit. I gotta go, my mum needs her car back by eleven.” Pimply got up from the table.

  Cameron finished paying and handed Carla a fiver. “Thanks, Carla. See you tomorrow.”

  “Can’t wait,” she said, with a wink and a sexy smile.

  “Hey, do you know those jokers?” Cameron asked her quietly, gesturing with his head in the direction of the three young men.

  “Them? Yeah, they’re regulars, but they’re usually here later in the day. Bunch of losers, always hitting on me, and they never leave a tip.”

  Cameron thanked her again and left the diner. He stood outside with Piper, who was having one last go at the bowl of fresh water the restaurant always provided. When Piper had enough, he walked over to Cameron, dribbling about a gallon of water all over Cameron’s feet.

  “Hey! Thanks a lot for that, buddy,” he said with a chuckle and rubbed Piper’s ears. Cameron looked up as the door to the din
er opened and the three men he had been listening to filed out.

  “Hey you,” said Cameron, up close and personal to the redhead. “I heard you in there talking about hurting someone. I think I know who you were talking about, and I’m telling you to stay away from her. You so much as lay one finger on her, and you’ll be answering to me.”

  “Take it easy, old man. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Get the hell out my way.” Keaton shoved past Cameron and headed to the parking lot.

  “I’m telling you, punk. Leave Grace alone!” Cameron yelled after them.

  The three kept walking and got in their car. Cameron kept watching as they drove out of the lot. As they sped past, the tires screaming on the asphalt, he noticed that Pimply was giving him the finger.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The frigid air inside the car was biting and she saw her breath as she put the papers on the passenger seat. She turned the ignition and held herself tightly, waiting for the car to warm up.

  “I really must invest in some new wipers,” said Grace as she squinted through the pelting rain on her windshield. Visibility was next to nil as she exited the parking lot. She took a right onto Carlisle Street and noticed high beams again, this time coming up fast in her rearview mirror.

  “What’s with you?” Grace said out loud.

  The car began tailing her bumper closely. Thankfully, Grace was taking another right turn at the next block.

  “See ya’ later, psycho,” she said.

  She rounded the corner and checked her mirror. The car stayed on her tail. Now feeling a little unnerved, she sped up cautiously; her old VW didn’t handle all that well in the best of weather, never mind in a torrential downpour.

  She decided to take another turn with the hope of losing them and felt her rear end fishtail on the bend. The car still followed, almost kissing her back bumper. Now she was downright scared. She pressed the gas harder but had to ease off as she felt a loss of control in the steering wheel. She could barely see out the window, the rain pouring like a river down the glass.

  The lights from the houses and cars outside her window blurred past in the wet darkness. Grace saw that she was approaching a traffic light up ahead and prayed it would stay green. She was still a few car lengths before the intersection when the light turned yellow.

  “Shit.” She was going to have to run the red, but then it occurred to her that the idiot behind her wouldn’t make it in time and would have to stop or get hit by cross traffic.

  She sped through the yellow light, feeling triumphant but then watched in disbelief as the car swerved violently to avoid an accident and then sped up behind her bumper once more.

  Grace couldn’t go any faster. She would lose control of the car. She glanced at her rearview again and screamed, just missing a pedestrian crossing the road in front of her. She hit the brakes, felt her car skid, and braced herself for the impact from the car behind. She heard tires screech, and the pedestrian yell as she pressed the gas and sped away. The mysterious driver stayed on her tail.

  She took a fast, yet cautious left turn at the next opportunity, finding herself on a desolate stretch of road. “Where the hell am I?” The insane driver caught up to her and hit her bumper hard. Grace’s car jolted from the hit, and she fought hard to correct the swerve of her vehicle. She hastily took an abrupt right turn and nearly slammed into a pole. The driver following couldn’t make the turn and had to stay heading straight.

  She’d lost them.

  She slowed down and caught her breath. “What the hell was that?” Grace had no idea where she was as she tried to read a passing street sign, but it was obscured by the streaming rain. She drove on and made a right at the next street, in the opposite direction of the crazy driver. She was still peering through her window, trying to get her bearings when she saw in horror that he was back behind her. “Oh shit, no!”

  The car suddenly passed beside her on the narrow road, and she tried to get a look at the driver but saw only a dark blur through the two wet windows. Grace slammed the brakes as the car swerved madly in front of her and abruptly slid to a stop. She tried frantically to reverse but accidentally stalled her damn car.

  “Oh my God, oh my God, please, please, don’t let this be happening,” Grace prayed. She watched in terror as a towering, hooded figure emerged from the car and walked toward her. Grace glanced at her door locks; the right rear button was up! She tried to reach it with her left hand, twisting her upper body around as far as possible, but it was too far. Her right, of course, didn’t straighten and didn’t have the strength to push the button down anyway.

  Grace instinctively reeled sideways as the steel hilt of a large hunting knife bashed through the glass by her ear, sending an explosion of rain and glass all over her face and lap.

  He put his face through the now open window. Grace felt his heavy, hot, snorting breath on her skin.

  “You fucking tell that weasel Keaton, he needs to pay up, right?” he said in a strong cockney accent. “And if he don’t, by Friday night, I’m going to come into your big bloody house and take it meself, along with a nice big slice of your pale, white skin. Ye gorrit?” He ran the flat top of the knife along her cheek.

  Grace was frozen, her mouth hanging open, her eyes clenched shut. She managed to nod her head and open her eyes slightly to look at the hostile assailant. He had a massive head with enormous, flaring nostrils. There was a thick, pink scar from the bottom of his right eye all the way to his jawline. His intense eyes bored into hers with the fierceness of a raging madman.

  “I don’t know anything about any money,” Grace said, hoping to reason with the beast. “Maybe there’s a misunderstanding here.”

  “There ain’t no fucking misunderstanding, lady. He borrowed from some dangerous people, and it’s time for payback. Either he does or you fucking will!”

  He pressed the knife harder into her skin, ran it down to her neck and just held it there for a few seconds, still breathing heavily on her. He said nothing further, but his message was clear. Grace was afraid to move, wouldn’t dare; it felt like he was trying to decide how far to take this.

  Grace decided to chance a response. “Okay,” she said. It came out in a whisper. Apparently convinced that she understood, he backed out of the window, walked back to his car, and sped away, leaving a spray of water in his wake.

  Grace sat there, shaking. “Holy Jesus! What the hell was that?”

  Hands shaking, she tried the engine. It started. She checked her cheek and neck for blood; two red marks but no broken skin. She put the car in drive and headed in any direction. She took a series of right turns and then, thankfully, recognized a familiar grocery store.

  In a state of shock and horror, she headed for Craigrook, the rain pouring in the broken window, her lap full of glass, and her eyes ever watchful in the rearview.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Grace thankfully arrived home safely but still shaken after her horrific encounter with that awful, deranged man. She’d been intent on telling Morvin what had happened but found that she either wasn’t home or was already in bed. So instead, she found some tape and used a garbage bag to seal up her window as best she could. It was quite some feat with the raging wind and sheeting rain.

  After that ordeal she couldn’t wait to get changed and hole up into the warmth of her bedclothes. She took Cameron’s cell phone out of her purse and crawled under the covers. After a couple of rings, Devi answered.

  “Grace! Oh my God, we’ve all been so worried. I’ve left messages, why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

  “I can’t find it. I borrowed this one from a friend. How’re things going?” Grace asked.

  “Things are not good, Gracey. There was a fire in the building. The damage wasn’t too bad to your shop, but Armin’s had to close business for a while.”

  “What? What about the flat? How bad was it? Is everyone okay? Is Ernie okay?” Grace was stunned by the news.

  “Yes,
yes, don’t worry. Everyone is fine. Like I said, the smoke damage was only to your store and the two shops on either side. They’re not sure what started it yet, still investigating. But we were all so worried about you that Marc decided to drive up and check on you. Have you seen him?”

  “Marc is here? No, I haven’t seen him. When did he leave?” Grace asked.

  “Two days ago. That’s strange. Maybe he changed his mind. I’ll call him. How are you coping though, Grace? How’re things going with your sister?” Devi asked.

  “There’s some weird stuff going on around here. I’ll fill you in in a couple of days, Devi. It’s late, and I’m exhausted. Thanks again for looking after things for me. Say hi to Wesley and Ernie. I still can’t believe his brother coming all the way here...seriously, I’m fine.”

  “Okay, Grace. I’m so glad you called. Keep in touch, okay?”

  “I will. Talk to you soon. Bye, Devi.” Grace put the cell phone back in her purse by the bed and flicked off her lamp. Maybe Marc does really care about me after all, she thought. She couldn’t believe there was a fire in her building. The lack of business was really going to set her finances back, but at least no one was hurt.

  She tried to get comfortable and force sleep but knew she was probably in for another rocky night.

  It’s all her fault, he thought as he watched her sleep. Everything’s just gone right to shit since she showed up. Keaton could barely see his hands in front of his face as he took another sip of water. He continued to stare at her as she tossed and turned in the bed, and he leaned forward as her nightgown fell off one shoulder. Keaton licked his lips, hoping to see more, feeling aroused at the sight of her bare skin. He couldn’t see shit from here, though. Time for a closer look.

  He crept to her door, avoiding any creaky spots on the wood floor. He slowly turned the knob and cringed as it let out a light metal scrape. He pushed open the door and entered Grace’s room. Stepping as lightly as possible, he approached her bedside, although the storm outside was an excellent muffler to his movements. He stood over her form and damned the darkness. It was hard to see anything very well. Grace muttered something and moved onto her side, bringing the blankets up to her neck. Dammit, he thought.