by Mark Ayre
This house had belonged to Morris and so, after the master, Ariana and Aurora, his daughters, had the largest rooms. Alex and Tony's rooms were smaller but would have made more than acceptable master bedrooms in most detached properties. Tony's en-suite was as big as the main bathroom in Abbie's childhood home.
"You're tidy. Good to see."
Tony looked to Abbie but didn't respond. She gestured to the clean surfaces, the immaculate carpet, the bare walls, and the made Queen sized bed, as though he might not have known to what she was referring. Then she handed him the bin bag.
"Go into the bathroom and undress. Clothes in the bin bag but don't tie it. I need it as well. Get in the shower and wash as you normally would, then rewash. When you're as clean as it's possible to be, one more wash, then come find me. Though you might want to wrap yourself in this first." Abbie took a towel from the radiator and pressed it into Tony's free hand.
Abbie had spoken slowly, clearly, as though to a child or someone who had an okay grasp of the language and was keen to learn. She wasn't sure if Tony got it.
"Okay?" she said again.
"Sure," he managed. But Abbie still had to guide him into the bathroom. "I'm out here if you need me."
Closing the door, Abbie checked her phone. By now, Ben's team would have almost finished with the scene. They were professionals. Thorough but fast. Abbie had never met them, but the fact the police had never arrested her for a murder Ben’s team had cleaned up was a testament to the quality of their work. When they were done, Ben would text Abbie and send someone to collect the clothing Abbie and Tony would have binned. By the end of the day, not only would there be no evidence linking Abbie and Tony to the murders, but no evidence the murders had even happened.
Except for the names of the dead men that Ben would find, and Abbie would add to her little black book of shame.
Shame.
Abbie did the usual. Phone still in hand, she closed her eyes and reminded herself these men had come at her with knives. In a perfect world, she would have beaten them, left them unconscious but still breathing. In a way, this was better. Abbie had assaulted many men and women in her time and had found defeat rarely humbled them. More often than not, they came seeking revenge, and she ended up killing them anyway. She had to accept that those she never saw again were probably off ruining more lives.
Yes, by killing Baldie, Abbie had made the world a better place. Same for Tony with Blondie, but Tony would struggle to see it. Better for Abbie to forget about the men who had come at her with knives and to instead focus on the man in the bathroom next door. She'd let him down. Had believed if she got the jump on Blondie, Tony would not need to get involved. But she had got the jump on Blondie. Having smashed his face against the rock (removing a couple of his teeth and crushing his nose in the process), Abbie could never have expected him to get up and come again so soon after.
Could she have smashed his face harder?
No. Abbie had given it all her strength. Some people just kept going, even when it made no sense. There was no use blaming herself for that.
Letting Baldie beat her was worse. To let him pin her, so everything came down to whether she could catch his hands as he tried to stab her eye, was unacceptable. It was rare for anyone to get the better of Abbie. She didn’t like it.
If she had handled Baldie, he would have been unconscious before Blondie reentered the cave. Injured as the blonde idiot was, Abbie would have dealt with him no problem. Tony would never have pulled the trigger and wouldn't now—
Stop it. Stop it. This wasn't helping anyone. Abbie couldn't focus on how she might have helped Tony in the past. She needed to focus on what she could do now. Because a derailed Tony could cause the kind of problems that would lead to Alice's demise.
Yes, Abbie would tell herself she was doing it for the mission. Not for Tony.
Phone still in hand, Abbie opened her eyes. Earlier, she had ignored the notifications indicating Bobby had texted. In the top corner of the messaging app on her screen, the little number "2" reminded her of them.
Now was not the time to let him burrow into her head. That smile. That stupid smile. She couldn't make it go away. Needed to. Right now, it was all about the mission and making sure Tony held it together.
Forcing herself to lock the phone, she chucked it on the bed. Taking the drawstring bag off her shoulder, she placed it on the floor. From the en-suite, she could not yet hear the shower, nor any movement. It did not take that long to get undressed. By now, Tony should be scrubbing himself under hot water.
Stepping towards the door, Abbie knocked on wood.
"Tone, you alright in there?
Her heart drummed against her chest when there was no response. First-time murders handled the situation in different ways. It was not unheard of for a tidal wave of guilt to drive the killer to do something stupid. Something permanent.
Abbie couldn't believe there was a knife in the bathroom. Definitely not a toaster. Besides, the bath was not running.
What about pills?
Abbie raised her hand to knock again before deciding she couldn't risk it. Turning the handle, she was relieved to find the door unlocked. She stepped inside.
On the cold floor, fully dressed, Tony stood staring towards the sink. More importantly, towards the mirror above the sink. The bin bag was still in his hands which were at his waist. The black plastic trailed to the floor.
Tony didn't register Abbie's arrival but flinched when she blocked his reflection from view. Placing her hands over his, she gave what she hoped was a comforting smile. She hadn't had much practice.
Slipping her fingers under his, Abbie released the bin bag and towel. She placed the bin bag by the wall opposite the mirror, the towel over the bath. Returning to Tony, she took his hand and turned him away from the reflective glass.
"We can talk about this," said Abbie. "Or not. Whatever works for you, but first, we get rid of our clothes and wash."
Tony didn't respond, only stared. He was wearing dark chinos, white trainers and a light blue shirt. Raising her hands, Abbie touched his shirt's top button.
"Can I…?"
She let the question trail. After a few seconds, during which Abbie's fingers remained on the top button, Tony only continued to stare. Then he looked down at her hands then back to her eyes.
"I don't think I'm coping," he said.
"No," Abbie agreed. "But that's okay. It'll be hard, but a little better after a hot shower. Can I?" She nodded at his shirt again. He looked at her hands and, this time, gave a quick nod. "Thank you."
Abbie began to unbutton his shirt. Tony watched her, and Abbie tried not to be unnerved. He was struggling; that was okay. He was allowed to struggle.
"I didn't mean to kill him."
"I know," said Abbie, which wasn't entirely true. She meant she had expected Tony to say those words. Almost every first-time killer busted out the I didn't mean to line sooner or later. "He was coming for you. He was going to cut you up, then start on me. You defended yourself. There's nothing wrong with that."
"Isn't there?"
"No.” Abbie finished unbuttoning his shirt. "Do you consider those who fought and killed during World War One and Two to be monsters? If a man tries to hold down and cut open a woman and that woman kills him to save her life, would you demand she was imprisoned?"
Tony considered. Shook his head. "No."
"No," Abbie agreed. She came close, pulled the shirt over Tony’s shoulders, pulled it off. "You did what you had to do. You saved my life and your own. Does that mean you shouldn't feel crap about it? No. It should mean you can find a way to accepting your actions. You will process, you will deal, and you will move on. I promise."
Moving away from Tony, Abbie opened the bag and put his shirt inside. Returning to him, she pointed at the button of his chinos.
"You happy to continue?"
He stared at his trousers as though he didn't quite understand. When he came back to Abbie, his eyes swam wit
h questions. Abbie was sure they would not involve how he was supposed to get undressed.
"You called someone," he said.
"Yes."
"Who?"
"I told you that I save lives," said Abbie. "Unfortunately, that means I do get in situations like these, where people try to kill me, and I have to kill them first. The man I called represents the company that supports what I do, financially and in other ways. They're professionals. They'll ensure no one ever discovers what we did. That we don't have to worry about explaining our actions to the police, so we can focus on explaining them to ourselves."
Tony processed this. Thought it over. Abbie hoped he wouldn't try and delve deeper into what she did and for who. Luckily, he was too grief-stricken to go there.
"Allow me to explain it to myself, you mean," he said. "Because I'm weak. Because I can't even handle killing someone in self-defence. I'm not strong like you."
"I'm not strong," said Abbie. "Experience helps you handle situations like these, but taking a life always takes an emotional toll. No matter who the person you've killed was. I like to think that continued emotional toll is a sign you're still a good person, deep down, if nowhere else. I like to think I'm a good person, but that's up for debate."
"I don't think it is. I think you’re good.”
"You don't know me," said Abbie. "Now, take off your trousers."
Abbie started for the door.
"No, wait, please."
Abbie turned back.
"Don't go. If I'm alone, what I did’ll consume me. Please, I need…"
"To be distracted?"
"Yes."
Abbie had her hand on the bathroom door. She understood how he was feeling. She also needed distracting, and not only to remove the image of Baldie's slit throat from her mind. Because of Bobby. Because of that slice of normal life she could no longer have but which continued to taunt her.
Yes, she was in desperate need of distraction.
From the handle, Abbie moved to the bolt, sliding it across, locking them in. Stepping away from the door, she kicked off her boots and picked them up.
"Annoying," she said. "I like these boots. It's always so hard to find quality replacements."
She chucked them in the bag and pointed to Tony's shoes.
"You'll want to do those before the trousers. Socks too, not because they'll stop you taking off your trousers but because people dressed only in underwear and socks look silly." She leaned over and took off her socks, chucked them in the bin bag. She was wearing a change of clothes, but who knew what she had on her skin. Better to get rid of everything and buy new clothes.
Tony leaned over. Took off his socks and shoes. Abbie took them and put them in the bag. When she turned around, he had his hand on his chinos, his fingers on the button. Abbie looked to him, bare feet on the cold floor.
"What happened outside the cave, the kiss," she said. "That was acting. I was trying to fool the people who wanted to hurt us."
"I know," said Tony, though she could see the hurt in his eyes.
Abbie removed her top, unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down. In only her underwear, she crossed the room and turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature dial. Hot but not as hot as the showers Abbie took alone. She doubted Tony could handle that kind of heat.
Returning to him, she nodded to his fingers which remained on his button. She put her hands behind her back.
"If you want this, it's on the understanding that it's distraction only. It means nothing more than that. Is that what you want?"
Tony nodded. "Yes."
"And you understand?"
"I do."
"Then take off your trousers and whatever's underneath."
Without a word, Tony did as told, his eyes remaining on Abbie as she removed her bra and knickers.
Naked, they examined each other.
"Yep," said Abbie. "That'll do the trick."
Tony's eyes said he was thinking much the same.
"Come on then," Abbie said, taking his hand, pulling him towards the shower. "Let's get you clean."
Eighteen
Afterwards, they lay in Tony's bed, side by side, staring at the ceiling. Tony had found Abbie a spare towel, and they were both wrapped up, though their free hair was soaking the pillows beneath their respective heads.
At some point during the preceding events, Abbie's phone had slipped off the bed and landed on the floor. Abbie could see it now; it's screen dark. When it had fallen, Bobby had leapt into her mind, and she had almost thrown herself from Tony but had managed to reclaim the distraction and blur her thoughts.
Afterwards, she didn't feel much better but could tell Tony did. That was the main thing. Thoughts of the murder would return to him, probably in his dreams, but Abbie figured he'd be secure for a little while. Their time in the shower and in his bed seemed to have given him clarity and perspective. Most of it was good. Not all.
"You said it was okay that I shot Blondie because he was going to kill me."
Abbie resisted the urge to groan. She knew where this was going. "Yes?"
"I wasn't thinking straight. Was barely focusing on what was going on. It's amazing I even noticed the gun, but… I heard you shout my name, and then the guy on you said something to the one I murdered. What did he say?"
Abbie said nothing. She kept her eyes on the ceiling. Bobby was trying to force his way back into her mind, to make her consider the content of his texts. She didn't answer Tony's question.
"He told the guy I shot not to kill me, didn't he?"
"Don't go down that road," said Abbie. "Trust me, it doesn't lead anywhere good."
"If I hadn't shot him, they would have killed you, right? Then probably beat me up so they could get away."
Abbie was reasonably sure she could have caught Baldie's hand and dealt with him, even if Tony hadn't shot Blondie. Of course, this was something she could never say.
"That's right," was what she told Tony.
"I saved your life by pulling the trigger?"
Abbie had to force herself to say, "Yes."
Tony fell into silence. These questions were frustrating, but they gave Abbie something on which to focus. Once more, she could push Bobby away. In the end, he would mean nothing. Everyday life wasn't for her. She would get past that.
"How did you know saying my name would work?" said Tony.
"I'm not playing this game," said Abbie.
"What game?"
"The game where you serve me questions to which you already know the answer. If you don't want to think about it, don't. If you do, do. But don't get me to lead you to information you're perfectly capable of figuring out on your own."
Tony fell into a hurt silence. Abbie closed her eyes, guilt folding around her. Abbie's frustration was not Tony's problem. He was a sweet guy; he didn't deserve what she was dishing out, especially given what he'd just been through.
"When you first said they were after us," said Tony, "I assumed they were sent by Louis. I got it in my head you were going to apologise, to tell me you were wrong and Louis was the murderer all along. I was terrified, but I kind of thought you'd deal with these guys, then we'd deal with Louis. Together. Avenge my sister."
"Well, I'm sorry," said Abbie, "but I never apologise."
She felt Tony's head shift on the bed and knew he was looking at her. Abbie kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, refusing to meet his.
"That was on purpose, right, that joke?"
"Of course."
Tony gave a little chuckle. Then moved on.
"You knew straight away Tony hadn't sent those men, didn't you?"
"I didn't know anything," said Abbie. "I suspected."
"Strongly suspected," said Tony. "You told me to say my name. You must have been almost certain that would keep me alive. Because you knew these guys would have been told not to hurt any of Alice's children. Right?"
"The name might not have been necessary," said Abbie. "They were sent after me. They might h
ave knocked you around a bit then checked to see who you were. But I guessed they would have been warned not to harm you or any of your siblings or your mother, yes."
"Because those men were sent by Angel?"
"I didn't find an employee-employer contact on Baldie's person to confirm," said Abbie. "But I'm working under that assumption, yes. After all, Angel did threaten to punish me for attacking Ariana. Though I have to say, I didn't expect her to act so quickly."
"She's always been like that," said Tony.
"Makes me worry even more for Jacob and Kyle. I hope Louis got to them in time."
Tony nodded and looked back at the ceiling. For a few seconds, they lay side by side, in silence. Abbie knew more questions were coming, so waited.
"Do you really think a united front will be enough to convince Angel and Ariana to stop?"
"I don't know," said Abbie. "They're your sisters, you tell me."
"It's possible," said Tony, "that Louis and Alex will convince mum he isn't guilty. Possible I'll be convinced as well. I don't think there's any chance they convince Angel and Ariana. I think those two’ll keep coming regardless of what mum says. The only way I can think of to stop them is—"
"I'm not going to try and find Aurora’s killer," Abbie cut in.
"But I think—"
"Tony, no. That isn't the play, I promise you."
Even without looking at Tony, and although he stayed silent, Abbie knew he was sulking. This was frustrating. She hated sulking and could only imagine what he would throw at her next. Before he could say any more, she tried to explain.
"I believe the greatest danger to your mother will come tomorrow. The police have investigated Aurora's murder. That they've not found the killer suggests there is little or no evidence. Like I said, I'm not an investigator. There's no reason to believe I would succeed where the cops have failed, and I certainly wouldn't be able to do so in a day. I know why you want to find Aurora's killer. Still, for now, we must focus on keeping everyone else alive rather than worrying about those we've already lost."
