by Wes Markin
“Hello, down there.” Catching his breath, Liam scanned the bathroom. A tiny window was situated above the toilet, small enough for a child perhaps but no more. “You know, Ms. MacLeoid, I came to you in a reasonable manner, but now, I’m tired and frustrated. And, when I really think about it, the way that your father led my nephew Anthony astray was very, very wrong. I’ve happily ended one bloodline tonight; I see no reason to keep yours going.” He lowered himself to his knees and drove the claw of the hammer into the lower half of the door. He tore away more wood and drove the tool in again and again, clearing a larger hole than the one at the top of the door.
He paused to catch his breath, wiped the sweat and blood from his head, sighted one of her ankles just below the hole, and smiled. “What a situation we find ourselves in, Ms. MacLeoid. Anything you’d like to say before I break you into little pieces?”
“Fuck you, again.”
Keeping hold of the hammer with one hand, he reached through the opening with the other, grabbed her ankle, and yanked it level with the hole.
She screamed and tried to wrestle free.
By pressing his feet against the bottom of the door for support, he could drag her foot and her leg through.
“Get off—”
He slammed the claw of the hammer into her calf.
She screamed again.
With one hand holding her leg and the other holding the hammer wedged into her, he panted through clenched teeth. He widened his eyes as he watched the blood bubble up. He was capable of such damage!
The blood ran over her leg and over his hand, so when she yanked her leg back again, it slipped through his fingers. The claw ripped through her flesh right down to her ankle where it hit bone and bounced loose. Her foot disappeared through the hole and into the bathroom.
Liam listened to the noises she was making; he’d never heard anything like it before. It sounded as if she was choking and gagging on her own screams. “Don’t worry, Ms. MacLeoid. This won’t go on much longer.”
He felt his cellphone buzzing in his pocket. He hoisted it out, wiped his eyes with his sleeve again, and read the name on the phone. A trembling started in his knees, and, as he rose to his feet, he felt it spreading over his entire body. He steadied himself against the tattered door, but it didn’t help, and the world pulsed around him. He could still hear the guttural screaming, but it sounded less overwhelming now, as if it was happening far away in another room perhaps. It no longer had any connection to him.
He read the name again. He gagged, and his mouth filled with bile. He leaned over the bed and let it dribble onto the sheets. Then he staggered toward the exit. He needed air.
He drew back the bolt while the phone buzzed hard in his hand. He looked at the screen again. He flinched. The name seemed to shout at him. He walked outside, took deep breaths of the air, and the world turned black.
Mason looked at the bloody hammer in his hand, gagged, and let it slide from his fingers. He felt the impact on his foot, but it didn’t hurt; he was wearing Liam’s black army boots. Wincing, he touched the corner of his eye and noticed his bloody fingertips.
The cellphone in his other hand was ringing. He checked the screen. He couldn’t believe it. As he answered, he steadied himself against the wall. “Hello?”
“Hello, Mason.”
“I don’t understand. I don’t understand …”
She gently shushed him. “Be calm, Mason.”
He surveyed the army uniform. “I’m covered in blood.”
“We knew this day would come, Mason.”
He studied the glowing neon sign for the Blue Falls Motel. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what I’ve done.”
“Let me help you.”
“Yes, I love you.”
“I know.”
“But it’s been so long.”
“It had to be that way.”
He saw his vehicle in the parking lot and started toward it. “I’m at the motel. I don’t know how I got here.”
“Meet me at the Skweda.”
Mason cried. It burned the wound in his eye. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because of what you mean to me.”
“But it was so long ago …”
“Those feelings never go away. So, Mason, the Skweda?”
“Where at the Skweda?”
“Where we laid her to rest.”
He opened his car door and climbed in. “Okay.”
“But listen, Mason, go via Shawcross Lane. Avoid passing your store.”
“Why?”
“Because they know now, Mason. That way is not safe for you.”
He watched the cloud of smoke. His store … his life’s work …
“Promise me that you’ll go via Shawcross,” she said.
“I promise.” He paused, took a deep breath, and forced back more tears. “I think I’ve done some very bad things.”
“We’ve all done bad things.”
“I know … I know, but not like this.”
“Come now, then.”
“I will, my love.”
She hung up.
He closed the driver’s door.
The passenger door opened. Liam climbed in and sat beside him. He was dressed in his army uniform and was covered in blood. He also had a military haircut. “You’re not going, brother? Surely, you’re not going to trust her.”
“It’s the end of the line, Liam,” Mason said, touching his own head. He too had a military cut. He started the car and eyed Liam. “You should have stayed dead.”
“You brought me back, brother.”
“What have you done?”
“I came close to giving you the peace you so deserve.”
“There is no peace for me, Liam. There never has been, and there never will be.”
20
“NOW WHAT?” Gabriel asked.
Jake turned the vehicle into Gabriel’s road. “We go home. We wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“Wait to see if it’s over.”
“That’s not my style.”
“It wasn’t an option.”
A cat was walking across the road and stopped in the middle. Rather than carry on, it turned its green eyes on the car’s occupants.
Jake brought the car to a halt.
“I’m glad we’re not going to a casino,” Gabriel said.
“Where I come from, if it crosses your path left to right, it’s good luck,” Jake said.
“My father was a gambler. He told me that if a black cat crosses your path in Vegas, it was an omen you were going to lose.”
“I’m not superstitious.”
“Me neither. I don’t gamble either. I want to see the body of the man who killed my sister before I believe it’s really over.”
Jake’s cellphone rang, and he answered it as the cat continued on its journey. “Lillian?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes,” Jake lied.
“We’re at the store now. The remains of two people have been spotted in the wreckage so far. It’s too early to say who they are.”
Jake started to drive, now the cat had cleared his path. He could feel Gabriel’s eyes boring into him. “Okay, keep me updated.”
“I will. That’s not the whole reason I’m calling. I just heard something of interest from Mason’s doctor. He called me back.”
“Go on.”
Lillian told him about the affair. “You think it’s relevant?”
“I don’t know, but eighty-nine is around the time Collette Jewell disappeared, so it’s worth a look.” He spied Gabriel, whose eyes could not be any wider.
“Ewan and I were going to check it out, but the lieutenant just told us to hang tight until we calm down this scene. We’re stretched thin on the ground here, and the crowd is thickening. I wondered if you wanted to ask a few questions. She knows you’re not police, so she’ll knock you back, but I figured it was worth a shot.”
Jake eyed Gabriel again. “Don�
�t worry about that. I’m sure we’ll get a response. I’ll stop by. What harm can it do?”
After parking behind his ex-lover’s vehicle, Mason exited the car and worked his way through the trees toward the Skweda. He could hear his brother crunching through the undergrowth behind him.
“You’re making a mistake, brother.”
“The only mistake I ever made, Liam, was listening to you.”
“I’m only here because of you.”
“No. You’re only here because they never invented a medicine strong enough to keep you away.”
“Up to you, brother. Go ahead and play the victim card, but I can tell you this; if you meet that woman at the water’s edge, you’ll end up the victim you so long to be.”
“She isn’t the problem.” He hoisted himself over a fallen tree trunk. “The things you’ve done are the problem.”
“Everything I did, you wanted, and you enjoyed.”
“How could I? I was never aware.”
Liam snorted. “Lie, then, brother. Lie to me, and to yourself. You lived through every moment. Every swing of that hammer. Every press of that trigger. Every single moment.”
“It’s you who lies!” He shook his head, gripped the sides of his face, and closed his eyes. “Just leave me alone!”
No reply.
Mason opened his eyes and turned. Liam had gone.
He turned back and meandered through the rest of the undergrowth. The sound of the Skweda grew louder. Occasionally, he steadied himself against a tree. His recent exertions—Liam’s recent exertions—had been too much for an old man to bear. The pain in his eye really continued to bother him too, and he had to wipe at the blood regularly when it threatened to close off his vision.
He came through the trees onto the riverbank.
She stood with her back to him, looking across the river.
It flowed, as it so often did, quickly, and he was glad of this. The noise of the water on rocks and against the banks would surely have drowned out his conversation with his brother—a conversation which may have led to her being more guarded than she currently was.
She’d never known about his condition. And he’d certainly never spoken to her about his brother. Even on that awful night when Collette died and Liam had taken center stage to support with what needed to be done, she’d known nothing of his existence. Liam had listened to Mason more back then. Liam had promised not to betray the change of identity, and he’d come good on his vow.
Mason stood behind the woman he’d never stopped loving.
“That night we stood here, do you remember how calm the water was?”
“Yes,” Mason lied. He couldn’t remember, because it had been his brother standing here that night.
“Public perception of me is so skewed. They think I’m impenetrable, a woman made of iron.”
“It doesn’t matter what they think. I know the truth.”
“Which is?”
“That you’re just strong, and you love as well as the next person.”
“You say I’m strong, but that night, I needed you. It was your strength that got us through it.”
Not mine, Mason thought. Liam’s.
“You waded out with that broken girl. You weighted her down. You laid her to rest. You saved us. Realizing how weak I truly was changed me. It is because of you, Mason, that I am what I am, and I thank you for it.”
“I’ve missed you. Every day since that night, I’ve missed you. We can get away. We can still be together.”
“But you’re not listening. I’m not the woman I was back then.” Priscilla Stone turned and raised her eyebrows. “Blood … so much blood. What have you done?”
“It’s complicated. It wasn’t me. At least, it isn’t the me that you know.”
“So, we’ve both changed since that night. Maybe, then, you can forgive me for what is about to happen.”
There was only a yard between them. He considered reaching for her; she showed no sign of fear.
“Because she’s not alone,” Liam said from beside him.
Mason opened his mouth to reply but forced back the words. He didn’t want Priscilla to know what he lived with—what he’d always lived with. He felt the pressure at the back of his head—the muzzle of a gun, no doubt. “Why, my love?”
“When things draw to an end, you are best being the person who determines that ending.”
“All I want is for it to end. Can it not end with us together?”
“I’m sorry, but that ending is for the delusional.”
“Delusional! She’s got that right,” Liam said.
“Shut the fuck up,” Mason said, snapping his head left. The muzzle was now pressed against the side of his forehead.
Liam, still wearing his blood-splattered army uniform, was laughing.
“Just go away, Liam. I beg of you.”
“Who are you talking to?” Priscilla asked.
“Tell her, brother,” Liam said. “You might as well. It’ll be all over in a moment.”
Mason felt his damaged eye sting as it filled with tears. “You spoiled everything. Everything.”
“I spoiled everything?” Liam placed a hand to his chest. “It was almost done, brother. If you’d let me finish, you’d have had nothing to fear ever again.”
“Apart from a fucking jailcell?”
“Brother, you were never going to jail! Look at you! You’d have seen out your days in a comfortable room on medication, watching football to your heart’s content!”
“One last time, Mason, who the hell are you talking to?” Priscilla asked.
He turned toward Priscilla. The gun settled on the back of his head again. “My brother.”
“There’s no one there.”
Liam came alongside Priscilla, and said, “He’s looney, darling. Absolutely batshit crazy.”
“Fuck you!” Mason said, pointing. “You’re the crazy one! You killed all those people.”
“How could I have?” Liam smiled. “I’m not even here.”
“Stop it.” Mason put his hands to his ears. “Just fucking stop.”
“Listen, Mason. It was you. All you. You poisoned the cattle. You killed Henry and Bobby. You threw a dead fourteen-year-old girl into the Skweda. And tonight, you wiped out an entire family. An entire fucking family!”
Mason fell to his knees.
“And your own wife, what you did to her really is the icing on the cake.”
Mason looked up at his brother as the tears washed down his face. “Lorraine?”
Liam nodded. “Yes, you raped her.”
Mason shook his head despite the gun still digging into the back of his head.
“You were having a tough time, brother. You lost control. I tried to protect you. And I made you believe it was the Davis brothers.”
“No, no. That’s not true!”
“Have you forgotten, brother? She hardly spoke to you for the rest of her miserable life!”
“Because she was damaged by what happened. By what the Davis brothers did. What you did!”
Liam nodded. “She was damaged by you.”
Mason lowered his head. He let the tears stream down his face. When he looked up, Liam was gone, and Priscilla was alone.
“I don’t know who I am,” he said.
“Seems that way,” Priscilla said.
“Do it.”
“Do what?”
“You know. What you came here to do.”
“Ah, that.” She nodded.
His final thought before his world turned black was, Maybe there’s a better world than this one.
Jake had been in some impressive properties in England before but never anything like this. Money obviously went a lot further here, and if you had a great deal of money, as the Stones most certainly did, the world was your oyster in terms of land and housing.
A young servant who was suited, booted, and, undoubtedly, packing a concealed weapon, introduced himself as Simon Drake and told them Charles Stone was far too
sick to receive visitors—police or otherwise.
Gabriel sneered. “I make the decisions on that, young man. Besides, we’re here to see the lady of the manor, not the dying man upstairs.”
“Are the police allowed to talk like that?” Simon asked.
Jake watched in disbelief as Gabriel nodded and said, “Yep. When you’re the chief, you get the monopoly on words.”
“Mrs. Stone’s not here.”
“Okay, we can wait.”
“I’d prefer it—”
“Preferences don’t get a say when conducting an investigation, son.”
“What exactly do you think Mrs. Stone has done?”
Gabriel eyed Jake and smiled. “Have I missed something? Does this little man think I’m in his employ?”
Jake didn’t respond. This was getting far too heated for his liking.
Gabriel turned back. “Show me to your living room, son, and we’ll both take coffee while we wait.”
Simon frowned and stepped to one side.
“Who else is here?” Jake said.
“Just me, and Mr. Stone, upstairs, resting.” Simon showed them through to a large room which opted to keep its décor to a minimum, although not its cost.
As Jake sat on a luxury designer sofa—the cost of which could take many hungry people out of poverty—he declined the coffee for fear that Simon would do something unsavory to it.
Gabriel accepted.
After Simon left them, Jake turned to Gabriel. “It’s like you were born to be hostile. I’ve never seen anyone so good at it! Priscilla Stone might not be involved.”
“I know her. I know her well. She’s involved.”
“How can you possibly be so certain?”
“She let the MSP marginalize me.”
“Did she have a choice? Looking at you now, I’d have probably done the same.”
“She didn’t have to bend over as easily as she did. She wanted me off the investigation, and she was looking forward to it blowing over. Except …” He narrowed his eyes. “Look what just blew into her foyer.”
“Jesus. This is a mistake. Have you ever done anything calmly? Also, why has the chief selectman got bodyguards marauding as servants? Is that common practice?”
