by Wes Markin
As they exited the Audi, Ewan asked, “What do you hope to find here, Lil?”
“I don’t know, but we just found out that Liam never left.”
While approaching the farmhouse, Lillian looked around at the orderly and trim fields. Having seen the state of the Davis farmyard, she appreciated the pristine acreage more than ever.
They tried the bell, and when there was no answer, they knocked too. Still no answer.
“Shit,” Lillian said.
“Exactly,” Andy Woodhouse said, coming around the side of his house in dirty fisherman waders. He stopped just short of the officers, looked at his gloves, and smiled. “Won’t offer to shake your hands. Been cleaning out the pigs. How are you, Ms. Sanborn?”
“Fine, Mr. Woodhouse, sorry to disturb you. I’m here on police business.”
“Unless I’m in trouble for how badly it smells in the pen round there, I couldn’t imagine what for.”
“It’s about the Rogers family.”
“Is family the right word?” Andy asked. “Last time I checked, there was only one of them left.”
Well, two potentially, Lillian thought. “Did you know Mason had a brother?”
“Yes, of course. Liam. Been a long, long time since someone mentioned that name though. Why do you ask?”
“We’re trying to track him down. We thought we’d come to where he started out.”
Andy nodded. “Well, you thought correctly.”
Lillian felt a rush of blood. “What do you mean, Mr. Woodhouse?”
“Follow me and I’ll show you.”
The three men waited beside the rapid, tumultuous creek at Forest Edge. They were almost half an hour early for the rendezvous with Felicity and her two sons. Such was the nature of the three men, combined with the fact the relationship between two of them was at a breaking point, conversation was at a premium.
Jake surveyed the area. As far as he knew, this was the only way in and out of the Davis property. If Camden and Carson returned earlier than anticipated from the store, they were in serious trouble. Jake stared at the entrance to the dirt track. There’d also be similar problems if cast-off Dom decided to venture out of the farmhouse before Felicity.
“You better have the time right, Oliver,” Peter said, gripping the rifle slung over his shoulder.
“I do. It’s all I’ve thought about for days.”
Peter looked up from the brook and sideways at Oliver. “You also better take good care of her.”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”
“I hope so. Don’t make me regret not killing you after you put me in the hospital, or the Davis brothers will be the least of your worries.”
Jake’s cellphone rang. He saw that it was Lillian. “Listen, you two, I have to take this. If you end up wrestling in that creek, I’m not coming in to separate you.”
Liam couldn’t believe it. He blinked and looked through his binoculars again. Yes! He was here for the Davis family, and here was Jake Pettman on a platter. Talk about killing two birds. He moved the binoculars from Jake, who was on his cellphone, to the other two men, who were deep in conversation by the creek. He recognized his brother’s best friend, Peter Sheenan, but he couldn’t recall meeting the second man. Peter was armed with a rifle. He couldn’t tell if Jake or the second man was armed, but it was best to assume they were.
He lowered the binoculars and leaned against his brother’s pickup. He’d managed to bring it off the road among a small patch of trees. Unless someone went out their way looking, they wouldn’t see him if they drove past.
He formulated his plan of action.
After approaching quietly through the trees, he would break out several yards behind the group. Not only did he have the element of surprise, but he was also a good shot, so it wouldn’t be too problematic. He would plug Peter first, then put one in Jake and the other man before they could unholster any concealed weapons.
His heartrate increased; he couldn’t wait. He took a deep breath.
Be calm, soldier. Be meticulous, be methodical.
He set off through the forest.
Be effective.
“Liam’s gravestone!” Jake said into his cell.
“Yes. Andy led us right into the Rogers’ family graveyard,” Lillian said. “About three generations worth of them here. Very old school.”
“Bloody hell! On his property? How does this Andy feel about that?”
“It’s a bit of a trek from the farmhouse, so it’s not so much of an eyesore for him and his family. They’d agreed to preserve it when they bought the property. Andy said it was a no-brainer, really. He was in no mind to disturb the dead.”
“So, I guess Liam is no longer a suspect.”
“He died in seventy-three.”
“The year the Davis livestock was poisoned.”
“May of seventy-three, Jake. He died a month before the poisoning.”
“Wait. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So, the Rogers family faked his death?”
“It doesn’t ring true. If they faked Liam’s death to spare him the Davis family retribution, wouldn’t they have at least gotten the month right? Unless they were going to argue that it couldn’t be him because he’d already passed? But then the Davis clan might have turned their vicious eyes on the younger brother, Mason, which could have been devastating.”
“So, not a fake death?”
“Well, a fake death also needs an audience. As far as I know, no one knew he’d died. And the audience it would be meant for, the Davis brothers, still believe he hopped town.”
“Which means Liam could actually be right there in the ground?”
“Without digging it up, we can’t be a hundred percent, but it seems the most likely of the two options.”
“So, if he was already dead when the livestock was poisoned, and the Rogers family lied and said he’d fled, then it kept him as the prime suspect—one who could never be found because he was actually dead—then they were obviously desperate to protect someone else.”
Jake waited for Lillian’s response. It didn’t come. His blood ran cold; she was clearly thinking the same thing as him.
Mason.
They’d come full circle.
“You need to contact medical professionals from around that time, Lillian. Someone must know if it’s really Liam who is dead and how he died. I’m assuming there was no death certificate?”
“No, there isn’t. I’ve checked. I also discovered that a Dr. Wilbur Hampshire serviced this area in seventy-three. We are on our way to see him.”
“Okay.”
“Jake.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve just been to Mason’s store. He’s not there. If it’s him, he’ll know we’re drawing close.”
“Making him dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll look for him. You just get to the truth.”
“Be careful.”
“You too.”
He hung up and marched over to Peter and Oliver.
Peter eyed him. “You have to go, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“We got this covered. Our relationship has been blossoming.”
Jake nodded. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. You want to tell me what the call was about??”
That the net is closing on your best friend? No. Not really. “Later, Peter.” Jake jogged to his vehicle.
When Liam reached the edge of the woodland, he heard the roar of an engine and saw the glint of the departing vehicle through the tree leaves. He peered out the woodland and saw that Jake had left. Wallowing in disappointment was not the place of the motivated and vigilant soldier, so he shrugged it off and stepped from the woodland with Mason’s Springfield raised.
Both Peter and his companion faced away from him. He hated to shoot someone in the back, but where the enemy was concerned, principles were best sacrificed.
The young man jolted forward, spun, displaying wide, confused and dying eyes, and disappeared into the creek.
“Put down the rifle, Peter,” Liam said.
Peter continued to face away and didn’t move. “Mason?”
“Last warning, Peter.”
“Mason, is that you?”
Liam shot into the air.
Peter flinched. “Okay, okay.” He knelt, laid the rifle on the ground, and stood.
“Now turn and look at me.”
Peter turned slowly with his hands in the air. He looked completely baffled. He had blood dripping down his face where it had surely sprung free from the young man’s wound. “Mason, what are you doing? What are you wearing?”
“I’m not Mason,” Liam said.
“I don’t understand."
“I’m not Mason; I’m Liam!” He raised the gun and aimed it at Peter’s heart.
“Okay, okay. I understand. But tell me, please, why’re you doing this?”
“Because you’re in the way. I’m here to put an end to the Davis family, and you made the mistake of crossing my path.”
“No, I—”
Liam shot Peter three times in the chest.
The old man tumbled backward into the creek, and Liam was filled with mixed emotions.
He was anxious about telling his brother he’d had to kill his best friend but, at the same time, was ecstatic over the accuracy of his shooting.
Dr. Wilbur Hampshire was out back, tending to his butterfly garden, when Lillian and Ewan arrived. The doctor’s wife took the visitors to him.
He closed the gate behind him to stop his precious specimens from escaping and joined the two officers on his back porch. He spoke as he climbed the steps. “One of my favorite poets, Maya Angelou, wrote: ‘We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.’ Throughout my career, I saw many people heal but only after they went through dark trials of solitude and pain. The butterflies remind me of what is possible.”
“Why did you ask us here?” Lillian started. “Why couldn’t you just speak to us on the phone?”
“Because sometimes beauty is not achieved, and, in those instances, a phone call will not do justice to those concerned. Would you like a drink?”
“No, sir,” Ewan said. “We just want to know about Liam Rogers.”
Wilbur removed his hat and sat on a chair. He fanned himself with the hat, and beads of sweat ran down his forehead. “I remember seeing Liam Rogers on the day his first tooth fell out. Poor boy. He was in his back garden, playing with his toy soldiers. Such an excitable and happy young man, full of vigor. He had leukaemia, and we first spotted it through a bad case of gingivitis. The gums swell and bleed, and patients can lose teeth. This poor boy lost quite a few before it was through with him.” He sighed and fanned himself again. “And I never saw another person so affected by the deterioration of another than his younger brother, Mason Rogers.”
Lillian sat on the chair beside him and sighed. “It was Mason who poisoned the Davis livestock, wasn’t it?”
Still fanning himself, Wilbur said, “You have to understand that Mason was not a well boy to begin with. He suffered from schizophrenia. We treated him as best we could, but his case was very severe. A few days after Liam’s death, Mason did what you just described. I remember asking him why. He told me it was because the Davis brothers, Cam and Dom, had been bullying his dying brother at school, and voices had instructed him to take revenge this way. It sounded reasonable and in line with his condition, but it was only after the bullying was queried at school that it turned out that it wasn’t Liam who was bullied after all. It was Mason.” Wilbur sounded hoarse. He coughed and paused for a drink.
Lillian grew impatient. “So, Mason took revenge on behalf of himself rather than Liam?”
Wilbur shook his head. “No. It would be reasonable to assume that, but the more I spoke to Mason over the next couple days, the more I realized this wasn’t the case.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Mason had fractured, Lillian.” He stared hard at her. “I recognized Liam while I was talking to Mason. Mason’s defense mechanism to his brother’s death was dissociative identity disorder.”
“Multiple personalities,” Ewan said.
Wilbur nodded. “Mason was one very traumatized boy. After I’d worked out that he’d split in two, I questioned him on it. Mason responded as Liam. He admitted to poisoning the livestock. I remember Mason staring into my eyes and saying, as if he were actually Liam, ‘I protect my brother, whatever the cost.’”
“So, you supported Silas Rogers in his lie that Liam was responsible for the poisoning and that he’d been sent away into hiding?” Lillian asked.
Wilbur nodded. “I did. And I’d do it again. Mason was a good boy. He was suffering enough. Would we really want to add the Davis family to his troubles? Tragically, Liam was gone. The Davis brothers couldn’t harm him, so to pretend it was him seemed like the most sensible option.”
“But he was dead!” Lillian said. “Where was the death certificate?”
Wilbur looked down. “I never submitted one.”
“Why not just say Liam died just after the poisoning?” Ewan asked. “Change the date on his gravestone. Same thing, surely?”
Wilbur shook his head. “We considered it, but it just felt too risky. Liam wouldn’t have had the energy to do what he did to the Davis animals in the final stages of his illness. And someone would question it. And, if we said he’d died in another way—an accident, for example—that would have just brought unwelcome attention from others. Even an autopsy, perhaps? It just seemed tidier at the time.”
“You didn’t think of coming forward with any of this when Collette Jewell vanished?” Ewan asked.
“Why?”
“Because Mason Rogers is a dangerous individual, and you knew that.”
“I never said he was dangerous.”
“How can he not be?” Ewan asked.
“Up until I retired, I treated Mason Rogers for both schizophrenia and dissociative identity disorder. Mason would go through periods of seeing and interacting with Liam, which was a result of the schizophrenia. Then, when the stress became too much, he would switch personalities and become him. But I know Mason, and I know Mason’s version of Liam. I know them both very well. Mason wouldn’t hurt a fly. Liam is edgier. Yeah, sure, he can be hot-headed, but he adores Mason, and unless his brother is under threat, I doubt he would lift a finger. The murder of a fourteen-year-old girl is not something that would have my alarm bells ringing. Why would I subject my patient to unnecessary stress? I only have to report him if they admit to planning or committing a crime.”
“How about the murder of Bobby White and Henry Clark in seventy-five?”
“Again, they were his friends. Mason was distraught, and he never suggested that he, acting as his brother, had anything to do with it.”
Ewan stepped forward. “So, when you talked about butterflies, Doctor, you said this was one instance in which beauty was never realized. What did you mean?”
“Exactly what I said, really. I could never really guide Mason to the respite he so deserved. He grew more bitter as he aged, and him and his version of Liam would argue even more. When I retired, I know he stopped seeking medical help. It pains me that he never became that butterfly I so desperately wanted him to become.”
“What did they argue about?”
“The Davis family. Liam became more frustrated with Mason over his inability to stand up to them. Camden’s and Dominic’s treatment of Mason during the first Collette Jewell investigation was atrocious. Mason even told me that one of the two men had raped his wife. She refused to go to the police, so neither of the brothers faced justice. Liam—or, at least, Mason’s version of Liam—became more exasperated.”
“So, do you think Liam … sorry, Mason would ever move on the
Davis brothers?”
Wilbur shrugged. “I always doubted it. You’d have to be suicidal, wouldn’t you?”
“And what if you did become suicidal? What if you’d had enough and decided to close up shop? What then?”
Wilbur looked away. “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to Mason in a long, long time.”
Ewan took another step forward and stood over Wilbur. “Did Mason, or Liam, ever threaten to hurt the Davis brothers?”
Wilbur looked away.
“That would count as planning a crime, making it your duty,” Ewan said.
“I never believed he would actually do anything.”
“I hope you’re right, Doctor,” Lillian said. “I sincerely hope you are.”
18
CAM AND HIS lawyer stood outside Mason’s store, staring at the Closed sign on the door.
Cam checked his watch. “Well, this is the only meeting I’ve ever been on time for.”
The lawyer, Bryce Middleton, smirked. “The least you can do when someone is giving you their livelihood.”
Cam pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. “So, where the fuck is he?” He took out a cigarette and offered one to Bryce, who tore off the filter and put it in his mouth.
After Cam had lit both the cigarettes, he tried the handle. The door glided open. “Guess he wants us to come in.” He took a puff on his cigarette, threw it on the ground, and stamped on it. He winked at the lawyer. “No smoking in my shop.”
The lawyer took a long, greedy drag on his filter-less cigarette, threw it down, and followed Cam into the shop.
At the end of the aisle, they banged on the apartment door and waited. “For fuck’s sake,” Cam said. He tried this handle too and also found it unlocked.
They walked through into the lounge. The air smelled of sweat. Cam scanned the room at the piles of dirty clothing and old magazines. “Going to have to tidy up this place before I move in.”
“Tidy like your home?” Bryce said.
Cam laughed. “No. This little place here will be mine. Time for a change.” He straightened his back and listened to it crack. “Blue Falls number one businessman has a reputation to uphold.” He wandered around the room and knelt to grab a long rope by the television. It had a knot in one end. He let it dangle to the floor. “Maybe the bastard was finally planning to hang himself.” He snorted. “Well, he can sign the fucking documents first.” He threw the rope on the floor.
