by Graham West
Darren shook his head. “It’s cool. I know how they died.”
“But it was their decision.”
“I drove them to it.”
“You were messed up over their divorce—you were angry. If my father hadn’t cheated on my mother, none of this would have happened. My mother would never have had needed therapy—she would never have met your father and…”
Darren nodded, trying to regain some kind of composure. “Parents, eh? Who’d have ’em!”
Jenny smiled. Darren dried his eyes and stood. “Anyway,” he said “Thanks again for meeting me. I really hope everything goes well for you.” He reached across to shake her hand. “You’re a cool girl. I just wish things could have been different.”
Jenny was taken aback by his sudden desire to end the meeting. “Maybe they can be,” she replied.
Darren frowned. “I’m sorry… I—I just thought we’d said everything.”
“That’s okay, but there’s nothing to stop us meeting again,” she said, taking his hand.
Darren looked stunned “Again? What? You and me?”
Jenny nodded.
“Why? Why would you want to see me?”
There was something so genuine about the boy—something endearing. Something that warmed Jenny’s heart. “Because you’re my brother,” she said. “Isn’t that enough?”
Chapter Forty-One
“You look whacked,” Penny Blakely said, staring at her husband’s face.
“You’ve met my father,” he replied wearily. “You know what he’s like.”
“Mmm, I’m guessing you’ve still got a job?”
“Just about. I got a roasting over Kim, though.”
“Yeah, and you deserve it. You’re still a scumbag, Dennis. Unfortunately you’re my scumbag, and I still love you.”
Blakely sighed, sinking back into the pillow and closing his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I can’t believe I got so involved. I can’t believe she’s dead. I can still see her…lying there.” Blakely stopped, the image of her broken skull, the blood, flashing behind his eyes.
His wife’s hand rested on his arm. “Wanna hold me?” she whispered.
Blakely nodded and felt Penny slide down beside him. “I nearly lost you,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around her.
“You’re a cheating bastard, Dennis,” Penny replied, kissing his cheek. “But I still believe we can make a go of our marriage. Okay, we’re gonna fight over this—every time I think of you screwing her on this bed and every time I see her face. She may be dead but neither of us are going to forget her.”
His phone rang. “Ignore it,” Blakely whispered, but she reached across.
“For fuck’s sake!” she hissed. “Kim? Who the hell is ringing you from her phone? And why have you got a picture of her tits?”
Blakely groaned as Penny rolled off the bed with the mobile in her hands.
“Who’s this?” she bellowed angrily. There was a pause. She shot him a look. “They hung up!” she said. “What’s going on, Dennis?”
Blakely’s heart was thumping, “It’s the guy who killed Kim.”
“What?”
“He’s a psycho, a serious psycho.”
Penny stared at him. “And you haven’t told the police?”
“I can’t,” Blakely protested. “He said he’d blow my head off!”
“Jesus! Dennis, what the fuck have you done?” Penny sat on the edge of the bed. “What else have you got on here?” she muttered, flicking through his phone.
Blakely tensed. He was a man on the edge of a cliff. Maybe he should just jump, because it was only a matter of time before she found the photographs. He waited. Any second now, he thought.
“Oh my god!” Penny shrieked, looking at him with revulsion in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, I should—”
“Why have you still got these pictures on your phone?” she snarled. “Why?” Her voice rose several octaves. “I’m on my husband’s phone—my husband—looking at pictures of some young woman with her fingers up herself!”
He watched the tears roll down her cheeks. There was worse to come. She continued to flick through the pictures.
“Oh no! No!” Penny began to sob.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, babe, I should have deleted them. I’ll do it now.”
Penny shook her head. “I don’t care anymore,” she wailed. “I can’t do this—I really can’t. It would be bad enough finding porn on your phone. But this is you! This is you screwing that little slut! You took pictures while you were having sex! How could you? How could you do that?”
“It’s what people do these days,” he replied feebly, regretting the words that tripped off his tongue before he’d had time to think. God! How lame that excuse sounded. Penny looked pale. Blakely thought she’d aged ten years in just a few minutes.
“How the hell do you think I feel?” she said, trying desperately to regain her composure. “I’ve used all my energy trying not to imagine you with her. And now I’m looking at it in fucking high definition!” Her eyeliner smeared across her cheeks.
“I’m sorry—it was her—she wanted me to…..”
Penny stood, tears streaming down her face. “What have you done? I came here to save us—you and me! I thought we had a chance, and now I find you’re being stalked by some psychotic killer on a phone full of some tart’s fanny!” She swung around, tearing the bedside lamp from its cord. “I hope you rot in hell, Dennis!”
Blakely moved too late, and the porcelain base crashed against his skull. The pain was blinding, and the room began to spin. Penny was shouting something, but the words seemed to echo in his head just before everything faded.
Chapter Forty-Two
Jenny was ready for the hostility. It wasn’t going to be easy explaining why she was willing to forgive Darren Pascoe.
“So what did the little thug have to say for himself?” Jake called from the kitchen. He had heard her coming through the door and obviously wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
“He was just sorry. Really sorry.” Jenny tried to sound as if the whole meeting was no big deal.
Jake appeared at the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame with a frying pan in his hand. He wasn’t going to let go. “And what did you say?”
Jenny shrugged. “We just talked.”
“Just talked?”
“Yeah. You know, talked.”
“About what? Your dead mother? Your dead little sister who didn’t even get to take a lick of her fucking ice cream?”
“Stop it!” Jenny snapped, kicking off her shoes and turning on the TV.
Jake wasn’t done. “Or did you talk about the funeral? How the teachers had to explain to all Hanna’s little mates why they wouldn’t see her again?”
Jenny caught him with a look that was meant to end the attack, but she knew it was futile.
“I don’t get it, Jen. How can you forgive him? How?”
Jenny flung herself across the sofa. She wasn’t in the mood for a fight but she wasn’t going to roll over either. “It’s not easy, Jake,” she replied. “It’s going to take time. But that lad has lost his parents—both of them. And they didn’t just die of old age or illness—they took their own lives and left their only son to rot. He’s paid for what he did.”
“Paid?” Jake snarled. “What exactly is the price on a life? Tell me!”
Jenny looked away. She hated to see the anger in those eyes. If only he could feel the confusion. If only he would try to understand.
“I don’t want this to come between us, babe,” she said softly. “I know it’s hard for you and Dad, but—”
Jake shook his head slowly. “It won’t. That kid has destroyed enough lives. He’s not destroying mine. I’m not gonna let that happen, Jen, no matter what it takes.”
Jenny looked up. “Meaning?”
Jake stepped forward. “What I said. Whatever it takes.” He pushed past her, flinging the pan on the couch an
d taking the stairs two steps at a time.
The house was silent. Jake knew how to sulk, and he would probably be perched on the edge of the bed, staring out of the window, imagining Darren Pascoe’s gruesome demise. It was best to leave him.
Jenny picked up the pan and took it back into the kitchen where she found Jake’s laptop open on the table. She glanced at the screen. It was his Facebook page. Jenny looked closer. He had one notification. Darren Pascoe has accepted your friend request…
***
Sebastian Tint answered the door to find Pug Williams standing on his step wearing the look of a triumphant schoolboy. “Hi, Mr. Tint. I’ve been checking up on that story.”
There was something endearing about Pug’s desire to please. He had a charm, and one day a girl would see beyond his facial disfigurement and realise that he was something of a catch.
Pug followed Sebastian through into the lounge. He stopped dead and stared for a moment. “Wow—a man cave!” he said with a mile-wide grin. “This is awesome!”
The boy’s enthusiasm took him by surprise. “I’m afraid there’s nothing much of interest for you, here—it’s all a bit old hat.”
Pug frowned. “What? Are you kidding me? Look at all those books!”
Sebastian smiled. “Well, it’s refreshing to find someone so young who thinks my cave is awesome.”
Pug nodded. “I love old stuff. Have you ever been around the Bronte museum? Now, that is just mega awesome. You actually see Charlotte Bronte’s dresses, and letters the sisters wrote. I was just—well, totally freaked out. I didn’t want to leave. Wuthering Heights is just the best book ever!”
Sebastian had already made up his mind about the young man staring at the wall of books. He was one kid in a million—one of those special human beings genetically programmed by nature to enhance the lives of the ordinary folk they rubbed shoulders with every day.
“Anyway, what have you got for me?” he asked, gesturing towards the high-backed antique chair that had already caught Pug’s eye.
“Well, I put in his name—Kaplan. It took a while—local news reports, social media stuff. You know the kind of thing.”
Sebastian didn’t, but he waited for the boy to continue.
“Kaplan didn’t die where they found him. They think he was probably set alight and then his remains were dumped.”
Sebastian frowned. There were some evil people around. “Did you find out anything about Melissa?”
Pug shook his head. “This Kaplan bloke—he was a bad dude, though, so she must have known something. He was a user too, not just a dealer. He had previous, with underage girls. Like, I mean really under age. A twelve-year-old. But the kid withdrew her allegations just before the court case, but it smelt fishy to me. I’m betting Kaplan paid her off. His father owned a chain of jewellers, so he must have had money.”
“So Kaplan must have come from a decent background,” Sebastian mused.
Pug shrugged. “Maybe, but he obviously got in with some shady guys along the way. Or maybe his dad was a kiddie fiddler too. Maybe he started with his own son.”
“That would explain a lot.”
Pug managed a weak smile. “Nothing’s black and white, is it? Just shades of grey.”
Sebastian nodded slowly. How many lives had been destroyed by abusive parents? Why hadn’t Kaplan followed his father into the jewellery business? Maybe he’d wanted nothing to do with his father until he needed the cash.
It was easy to put the pieces together and end up with a picture, but all Sebastian Tint wanted to know was where Melissa Ingram fitted into it. Pug had gone looking but found nothing. “Thank you for your efforts,” he said eventually. “I’m really grateful.”
Pug looked pleased with himself. “Thanks, Mr. Tint. Sorry I couldn’t find out more about the woman.”
He smiled. “Don’t worry. She was just an ex-partner of a friend from a few years ago.”
Pug nodded and stood. “I’d better be going. I promised Mum I’d make dinner. It’s chicken curry—my signature dish. She loves it.”
Sebastian waved him off at the door and watched him until he reached his own gate. He’d have loved a kid like that and found himself hoping Pug would call again. Maybe the books would bring him back. It was always good to keep company with the likes of Pug Williams. It was times like this he wished there were a couple of grandchildren hanging around in the background of his life.
Sebastian returned to his ‘man cave’ and poured himself a Brandy, flicking on the TV. He settled on a programme about country walks. His bones still ached but his heart was still out there with the young presenter in her boots and backpack. Nature was cruel, leaving so many of its victims with active minds imprisoned in failing bodies.
Ricky looked up at him, head cocked slightly to one side. It were almost as if the dog knew exactly what he was thinking. Sebastian bent down and patted his head. Ricky let out a high-pitched whine and raised his paw, resting it on the old man’s knee. There was a love between them, a connection that no one else would understand.
“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered. Ricky nuzzled his hand. Something within the professor’s heart snapped and tears streamed down his cheeks.
Chapter Forty-Three
Dennis Blakely opened his eyes and waited, aware that he was no longer in the hotel bedroom. Everything was blurred. He rubbed his eyes and blinked hard, feeling like a kid running around the house wearing his grandma’s glasses. “Where am I?” he whispered to himself.
“Dennis! Thank God.”
He recognised his wife’s voice and twisted his head to see the outline of her face just inches from his. He felt Penny’s lips on his cheek. “I’m so sorry, honey. I just lost it—I’m so sorry!”
“Hospital?”
“You have concussion. They’re just keeping you in for a day or so.”
Blakely closed his eyes.
“You had ten stitches, but the doctors said you’ll be okay.”
So it isn’t a migraine, he thought.
“I’m sorry, Dennis,” Penny said again. “I really am. I’ll get you some pills.”
He heard the door close and opened his eyes again. This was all he needed. My father is going to go ballistic. He wondered if the world was ever going to fall back into focus. The hospital scent was unmistakable, and it made him want to throw up. He had a park to build, and it had all been going so well until Kim came along. Why couldn’t he have just said no? Why hadn’t he called Penny? Why had he given up on her so easily?
“The nurse is coming down with some painkillers and the doctor will see you soon.” Penny smiled. He could make out the familiar line of those lips, but the thoughts tumbled around in his head. Thoughts he couldn’t control.
“I’m sorry,” he began. “It’s a fault—like a fault—but not yours…” He stopped, wondering why the words were falling from his lips in the wrong order. “I’m saying something…like rubbish—but I mean them. Sorry, I am—really.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Penny soothed. “It’s the concussion. It will all come back.”
“But my eyes… Everything’s fuzzy and—”
“Honey, it’s okay. Just try to keep talking.”
The blurred vision was bad enough. Now he couldn’t string together a simple sentence. Everything began to spin a little faster. It wasn’t even worth an attempt to communicate with his wife, whose words now echoed in his head, mingling with the thoughts that could not find an escape from the prison that his mind had become.
“Just stay with me, sweetheart.”
Her hand touched his cheek. It felt so warm. So… The words eluded him. He couldn’t even think, now. Maybe she was right. Talking was good, but he just needed to sleep. Everything would be okay soon. Everything.
***
Darren tapped his phone. Who the hell was Jake Huxley? He tried to think. The face certainly was familiar, but curiosity made it hard to refuse a friend request. A message came back within two minutes.
Hey Darren. Wanna meet up. Go for a drink someplace?
Darren’s heartbeat quickened. Someone wanted to know him. God knew he could do with a few mates, even if he didn’t really have the money to go socialising every night. Just having someone to talk to—someone his own age. He tapped in a reply:
Boss idea. Where? When?
The Unicorn. On Mason Lane? About seven?
Darren had never heard of it but he could check it out online.
Sure. I’ll look out for you.
He wished it had been a Jessie rather than a Jake, but maybe this was the beginning. Jake would have his own mates—maybe he knew some girls and they would all hang out together. That’s how these things started, wasn’t it? He was too young to go on those dating sites anyway. Meeting face-to-face and having a chat and a laugh. That was better than all that social media shit any day.
It didn’t take him long to find The Unicorn on Google Maps. It was situated just on the edge of town and attracted the suburban crowd who preferred to look out over the countryside rather than a busy street. Maybe Jake was some kind of farm boy. That would be cool. Perhaps he could get a job mucking out the pigs—that would still be better than working in that hovel of a garage, breathing in petrol fumes every day. Okay, it wasn’t ideal, and he sure wouldn’t be wearing that suit he’d bought, but it was fresh air, and if it worked out with Jake then he’d have a mate.
Darren stopped, slamming the brakes on his thoughts. Sometimes his imagination ran away with him. Why would Jake be a farmer simply because he wanted to meet up in a bar down a country lane? He glanced at the time on his phone. It was just past five. Time to get ready. Okay, Jake was a bloke, but there was no harm in looking good. But what if he was gay? He’d not thought of that. Perhaps Jakey was one of those guys looking for a one night stand and he’d gone looking for hook ups on Facebook. Darren scrubbed up well, even he knew that. And his profile picture did him no harm, either.
