by Wes Markin
As he often did when wakefulness had the upper hand, he took the photographs of his son from the drawer. The first couple of weeks he’d been traveling around New England, they’d reduce him to tears, but he was getting more resilient now. The pain was hardening him.
The latest photograph showed Frank wearing a Southampton football shirt and celebrating a goal he’d just scored in an inflatable football net in his garden. Jake smiled. He’d allowed Frank’s shot to slip between his legs, and once he was celebrating wildly, none-the-wiser to his father’s assistance, Jake had quickly snapped a photo on his phone.
As he slipped the photographs into the drawer, Jake considered what he would do if Frank ever needed help like Maddie Thompson needed help right now. His instincts, his desperation to help, would have him on the first plane home, but how long would he last after the plane landed? They would have eyes everywhere. He would be dead before he got anywhere near helping his son.
Jake sighed, stood and stretched. He turned and stared at the drawer. So, this was his reward for turning his back on them, for choosing honesty—exile. Never to return. Never to see his boy again.
He sat on the stool used last night by Peter Sheenan, the ex-soldier dubbed Dogman by some of the more incendiary locals. He turned away from Piper so as not to disturb her with the light on his phone. He set to work researching the more sinister residents of Blue Falls. Of which, unfortunately, there were many.
Blake Thompson opened his bruised eyes and gasped.
A cross-legged figure sat at the end of the bed, facing him.
He sat upright, gulping air, and after his eyes adjusted to wakefulness, sighed with relief. It was Marissa. He groaned and winced as he adjusted his sitting position. They’d made a mess of him out by that pit, psychologically and physically. And now the mere thought of that place and what had occurred there reminded him of the deep hollowness inside himself, and he wanted to cry out in anguish. But he suppressed it, for Marissa’s sake, for his sons’ sakes. That was to be his punishment, his purgatory—to rot in silent anguish.
“My dear, you must try to sleep.”
She didn’t reply and wore a vacant expression. Her eyes weren’t even on him. They seemed to be staring elsewhere.
“Marissa?”
Still nothing.
“Keeping yourself awake will just make you ill.”
Marissa smiled and lowered her eyes to him. “You know I won’t sleep until Maddie’s home, silly! But it’s given me some thinking time. Do you know what I reckon we should do?”
Blake could feel tears in his eyes. “No.”
“I think we should stay on Soft Rain Bay again, like we used to every year. Just a weekend, mind, I know you and the boys are busy.”
“That sounds lovely, dear. Now please come and get some―”
“Is she coming home soon, Blake. Is she?”
Blake felt his heart melt. He wanted to scream at the heavens. “I hope so, dear.”
Marissa smiled. “I’d like that so much.”
“Me too.”
“Maybe you could ask Mr. MacLeoid to let her come?”
Blake felt his blood run cold. He didn’t want to have this conversation again, certainly not in the middle of the night. Every hour, he felt himself teetering closer to insanity, but he had to hold it together, just had to. If he lost control, as Marissa had clearly done, that monster would return to finish them off.
“We can’t rush it. I told you that. He will allow her home when he’s ready.” Every time he lied to her, he felt another piece of himself break inside.
“Those stupid boys, I will never forgive them for this. They should know better than to break that man’s rules.”
Don’t turn on your boys, dear, Blake thought, wiping tears from his cheeks. They’re all we have left.
“If I come to bed now, will you think about Soft Rain Bay?”
“Soft Rain Bay? Ah yes, of course.”
She crawled up beside him and put her arm around him. “I hope he’s feeding her well.”
“I’m sure he is.” Blake turned away, worried his tears might fall on her head.
“Do you remember when you used to love me, Blake?”
Blake sighed. “I still do.”
“It was such a wonderful time.”
“Go to sleep, Marissa, please.”
“One day, we’ll all be together again.”
God, how I wish that were true, Blake thought and cried as quietly as he could.
8
JAKE LEFT PIPER sleeping in his bed and joined Lillian in her car.
She offered him a plastic cup full of a light green sludge. “Juice? I made too much.”
Out of politeness, he took it but immediately betrayed his real feelings by lifting the lid and sniffing it.
“Cucumber and kiwi,” she said.
“I’m in America. I was expecting coffee and donuts.”
“This isn’t downtown New York.”
“More’s the pity.” Jake took a mouthful and shrugged. “Not bad actually.” He drained his cup. “Enough calories for me to tell you about something that caught my interest in the early hours of the morning, but after that, I’ll need fueling up.”
“What caught your attention?”
“Samantha Kelly.”
“She’s a selectwoman.”
“Yes, I know that. That’s why I looked into her. Your chief is big on his delicate ecosystem, so I’ve done my best to map it all out.”
“All night?”
Jake shrugged. “That’s why I was hoping for coffee.”
“Now I feel bad! Well, at least my juice is good for your skin. What have you found out about Samantha Kelly?”
“She’s very well-off. But that didn’t surprise me. Anyone on this board is minted! What really interested me was she was a property developer. Often, in England, they’re worth a closer look. Her biggest project was in Soft Rain Bay. What can you tell me about this place?”
“It’s on the edge of another town on the River Skweda—New Lincoln. It used to be a popular vacation spot way back when, before flying became affordable and traveling became more ambitious. I used to go there as a kid, and I can tell you that the rain, when it comes, is anything but soft.”
“Do people from around here still travel there?”
“Some. Not as many. Cheap motels don’t exist around there anymore—just expensive summer homes and rich retirees. It looks totally different; most of the older properties have been bulldozed.”
“Yes, I saw some of the destruction online. I also noticed something else online—or rather, a lack of something else. Usually, when a property developer swoops down on an older property that has been with families for generations, there’s an uproar. I couldn’t find anything in the news. No interviews with disgruntled elderly houseowners, no news reports on any residents taking legal action, not even a pissed-off blog from a local. Nothing. Does that happen? Does everyone just sell up? No complaints?”
“Maybe Kelly’s company paid them well?”
“Doesn’t matter how handsomely they were paid, there are still people out there not interested in money. Someone would have objected. I guarantee. Except, I’m guessing some powerful people stopped it making it to the press—or making it anywhere for that matter.”
“Well, it does sound rather typical of Blue Falls. So, where now then? Samantha Kelly?”
“No, that will go down like a lead balloon, and you’ll probably find me in the clink by sunset.”
“Or worse.”
Jake nodded. “Do you know anyone in the police department in New Lincoln?”
“No―”
“Shit.”
She smiled.
“What?”
She raised an eyebrow. “There isn’t a police department in New Lincoln. Our department has the contract for New Lincoln and Sharon’s Edge.”
Jake’s eyes widened. “Bloody brilliant. Massive change of plan here then, Lil. Have you already phoned in sick
?”
She shook her head and checked her watch. “Was going to do it at eight-thirty.”
“Fantastic. I want you to go to work and access your department records.”
“What am I looking for?”
“Complaints of harassment from ex-Soft Rain Bay residents.”
“You think I’ll find any?”
“Probably not. Jewell is part of the fucking ecosystem he loves to waffle about, and he’ll keep clean files. However, there is something you’ll definitely be able to find out …”
“Go on?”
“The names and current addresses of the ten Soft Rain Bay residents who gave up their homes. Then, come back here and get me.”
“Dad … Dad … Dad?”
Jotham woke shivering and in pain.
Ayden offered him a blanket through the open door of the dog cage.
The concerned expression on his son’s face confirmed what he already knew; he’d done significant damage to himself. He rose on an elbow and pushed away the blanket.
Bo whined and nuzzled Jotham’s neck from behind.
He reached around and brushed off his dog.
“What happened, Dad?”
“You know what happened, Ayden. You know because it’s happened before. Why do you always have to act so dumb?”
Ayden’s face sagged.
“Have you found her?”
Ayden shook his head.
“Why do I even bother asking?” Jotham tried to crawl from the cage. He squeezed his eyes closed, moaned and stopped half-way out. The cuts on his back would have started congealing during the night; the movement would be reopening the wounds.
“Dad, your back―”
“I know!”
“Let me help you …”
Jotham batted away his son’s hand. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“You can hardly move.”
Jotham took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and rose. He held back until he was fully upright, but, at that point, the pain could no longer be bottled. He released a guttural cry.
The dogs barked. For once, he didn’t bother trying to silence them.
He limped past his son.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Send one of the girls to bandage me.”
“Maybe you should get it looked at.”
Jotham stopped and laughed, stopping when the vibrations from doing so burned like acid. “Looked at? Where? At the hospital?”
“Yes … maybe.”
“Jesus. You really are a funny little fucker.”
“No, I just fucking care! What the hell is wrong with that?”
Insolent little shit. I wanted my father’s approval too. Fought for it day in, day out. But I never raised my voice to him. Not once. Jotham turned slowly to face his son—not because of the pain but because he wanted to keep his adrenaline in check. He was in no fit state to beat his son, and so it was imperative he exercised restraint. Besides, there was more than one way to skin a cat. And he should know, he’d skinned his fair share of them.
“When I was a young boy, we had this one bitch on the farm, completely untrainable. We’ve had our share here, Ayden, but nothing like this. Almost took Boyd’s hand clean off one day. Anybody else, you’d have laughed. But you didn’t laugh when Boyd was involved. He commanded too much respect for that.”
“I know the story, Dad. You command the same respect―”
“Interrupt me again, Ayden. Go on. I fucking dare you to.”
Ayden went pale.
“Command respect? You don’t even understand the fucking concept. My father kept a chain which he never cleaned. It was stained with the blood of so many of his dogs. One day, he put it in my hand and dragged out his untrainable bitch. You’ve never beaten a dog, Ayden, not properly. It lunges for you, snapping and snarling. In that moment, you are fair game, and, if it catches you just right, it’ll take you to pieces. I beat that dog. I had it down on its belly, shitting and pissing itself. It was fucking writhing in a cesspit of its own making. After, I gave the chain back to my father stained with the blood of yet another dog. Guess what? This dog was now as obedient as they come.” Jotham blinked as blood ran into his eye. He touched his stinging forehead and inspected his stained red fingertips. “I was thirteen. When I was fourteen, barely a month later, I was fucking a farmgirl on our kitchen table.” He pointed at their home. “My mother walked in. Later that night, Boyd beat me with that chain for soiling the dinner table. The next day, he beat me again for disrespecting my mother.”
Ayden’s mouth hung open.
“From that moment, I never stepped out of line.” He sighed. “And yet, for all that, here I stand, having failed you.” Jotham tapped his son’s chest. “Raising your voice, interrupting me, unable to control your sister … I failed. If only, if only I could just turn back time. Beat you harder. Train you better.”
A tear ran down Ayden’s face.
“If Kayla isn’t back by this time tomorrow, I’m going to go into Boyd’s things in the cellar, and I’m going to pull out that bloody chain, Ayden. Then I’m going to start beating you. And I warn you, if I feel half as disappointed as I do right now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”
Gabriel’s alarm found him in his sleep, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Kayla in bed with him. He bolted upright, and the duvet dropped from him. He looked down and saw he was in pajamas. He sighed and remembered. Nothing had happened. He’d gone to bed alone. She must have crawled in during the night.
“Sorry,” she said.
“No, it’s fine.”
“I kept dreaming about the pit. I kept seeing Maddie … her face ... and then …”
Her hair hung over her face. Gabriel brushed it gently back and tucked it behind her ear. With the other hand, he pulled the duvet over himself to conceal his growing erection.
“I was scared.”
“You’re safe now.”
“Have you arrested Daddy yet?”
“No … soon.” He wiped away a tear from under her eye.
“Why does it take so long?”
“Investigations do.”
“Have you got Maddie from the pit?”
“It’s best you don’t talk about it, Kayla. Really. You’ve been through enough already.”
“I can’t go back until you arrest him. If he knows I’ve been talking to you, he’ll kill me.”
Gabriel shook his head. “You don’t have to. But I don’t believe that he’d hurt you.”
“No, really. You don’t know what he’s like.”
He nodded. Yes, I do. The sonofabitch is capable of anything.
“When he’s gone, I can live with Ayden. He’s different to Daddy. He’ll take care of me.”
“Sounds perfect.”
She sat upright, wriggled over and put her head onto his shoulder.
His erection pushed painfully against his pajama bottoms.
“You’re nice. Thank you for helping me.”
He gritted his teeth and fought his demons. “You’re welcome. Why don’t you run down and watch some television?”
“Are you getting ready for work?”
“Not today. My team are handling your father. I’ve got some things that really need taking care of.”
“I’ll make you some coffee.”
“That would be nice, but maybe get dressed first.”
After she’d left the room, Gabriel listened for her bedroom door closing and headed to a door underneath the stairs. He forced back some stiff, heavy iron bolts. It had been ages since he’d last been down here. He opened the door and, covering his mouth against the dust, leaned in to pull on a light cord. The bare lightbulb glowed. Gabriel looked down the stairs into the dusty cellar.
He hated missing work, but it would take a day to clean up down here, and he so wanted Kayla’s new room to be perfect for her.
9
JAKE’S MORNING WITH Piper couldn’t be any different from their frenetic evening together. Her persona
l concern for the welfare of Maddie Thompson had transitioned into a shared concern. With that came a solid emotional connection and tenderness as they sought and found solace in each other.
Lillian’s trip to the station was quicker than he’d anticipated though, and her knock at Jake’s door interrupted their lovemaking.
“Just wait in the car for me, please, Lil!” Jake called. After dressing and kissing Piper farewell, Jake joined Lillian in the car.
She handed him a handwritten list. “All ten addresses.”
“Let’s get cracking then.”
While she was driving, Lillian said, “Did you have someone in there with you?”
Jake flushed. “Blunt round here, aren’t you?”
“So, yes, then?”
“A gentleman never tells.”
“Piper Goodwin?”
Jake rose an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”
“When you came into the department yesterday, I overheard the boys talking. One of them had seen you in the Taps the previous evening, putting the moves on.”
“Putting the moves on?”
Lillian smiled, stopped at a junction and signaled left.
“Bloody hell, I’ve only known you five minutes, Lil, and we’re already discussing my intimate affairs!”
“You come to a place like Blue Falls, then your intimate affairs are everyone’s affairs. The sooner you learn that, the easier it’ll be to fit in.”
“Don’t worry, I’m learning fast.”
“Piper’s a gem, by the way.”
“Thanks for the seal of approval.”
The first three ex-owners of Soft Rain Bay property were living well. They were all hospitable toward Jake and Lillian and offered them coffee. Jake accepted each time and listened to three stories of how Kelly Properties had changed their lives for the better. They’d been paid generously, and their lifestyles had benefitted massively.
Jake, who was now riding a caffeine high, panicked that he’d led them down a dead end.
“There’s still seven to go,” Lillian reassured him. “Maybe you should slow down on the coffee?”
