Blood Kin

by Matt Hilton

  ‘It’s like being in the cellar all over again,’ Jacob groaned from under the pillow.

  The room she’d taken was in a chain hotel, the cheapest she could find on offer. It was small, furnished with twin beds and a bathroom and little else, but it was clean and comfortable in a way that the cellar never had been. But Jacob was correct in a fashion: it consisted of four walls and a single locked door – kept barred out of necessity, granted – and the longer they were cooped up inside, the closer the walls seemed to loom.

  ‘Did you fetch your hat?’

  ‘Why would I need to wear a hat in here, Mom?’

  She drew the pillow off his head, and ruffled his mane of dark hair. ‘If we are going out I’d rather you covered this up. It makes you too distinctive.’

  He twisted so he could peer spuriously at her mass of copper curls.

  ‘Yeah, mine’s too distinctive too. But I’ve a scarf I can cover mine with. What do you say, we’ll be more careful this time and keep to ourselves. I’m sick of stupid pizza too’ – they had mostly eaten take-out food for three days straight – ‘and want to try some of those crab cakes they had on the pier. What do you say, Jacob?’

  ‘I’ve got my hat, but I’m not eating crab. They look gross!’

  ‘You can have anything you want,’ she said, happy to find him off the bed and seeking his cap. ‘Chicken? You want chicken? I’ll get you chicken. Fries? You want fries? I’ll get you—’

  ‘I get you, Mom. I can have whatever I like!’ Jacob grinned, showing white adult teeth slightly too large in his juvenile features. He yanked down a ball cap over his hair, shoving a few stray locks up under the brim. ‘C’mon, Mom, where’s your scarf? Let’s get outta here.’

  ‘I need to check I’ve enough cash …’ She slapped her skirt pockets, then dug around, feeling for her billfold. It was more likely to be in her tote bag, but she checked for loose change: every spare cent was important. Her fingertips touched an unexpected item. She took out a laminated business card.

  Where had the card come from? She read it and immediately understood. It carried a name: Teresa Grey, and the legend: Private Investigator, and her license number, plus her telephone and email contact details. After Elspeth turned down the offer of help from Nicolas Villere, and they’d hugged goodbye, he must have slipped the card into her pocket. She snapped the card against her opposite hand, in thought for a moment, before Jacob tossed her headscarf at her.

  ‘C’mon, Mom, let’s get outta here before I explode from boredom.’

  ‘Just let me fix this,’ Elspeth said, as she ducked in front of a mirror to wrap up her hair and tie the scarf. ‘There, what do you think? Can you still tell who I am?’

  Jacob snorted at her lame humor.

  He headed for the door and began unlatching it.

  Elspeth cast around, spotted her tote bag and grabbed it. Distractedly she shoved Tess’s business card back into her skirt pocket. She hurried over to help unlock the door before Jacob had it pulled off its hinges.

  She shut the door behind her. Jacob was already halfway down the corridor towards the elevators. They had used the elevator only once during their stay: it was a new experience for her son, but not one he’d enjoyed. The small car was far too claustrophobic – and another throwback to the cellar – for comfort. He bypassed it and stood with a hand on the stairwell exit door.

  ‘Wait for me,’ she said, unwilling to let him out of her sight.

  Jacob danced restlessly from foot to foot, and once she’d reached him he pushed open the door and began bounding down the stairs. Elspeth followed, almost as eager to reach open air. Leaving the hotel she kept her head down, glancing surreptitiously at other guests seated in the lobby and was relieved none had familiar faces. They spilled out onto Market Street. There were plenty eateries across the road from the hotel, but she’d put an idea into Jacob’s head when mentioning the crab cakes she’d read about on a café menu on one of the piers. Jacob stepped out, heading across Fore Street towards the corner where she’d last seen Nicolas Villere.

  She cast back her mind to how things with Nicolas had been, and how things might have turned out if she’d chosen him rather than the lies fed to her by her future husband and jailer. Her gaze went to Jacob as he sloped along the sidewalk, ungainly and awkward as he began entering puberty. What would life have been like for her son if he’d been raised here instead of that accursed commune? She grew misty-eyed, and regretful. She squeezed the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb, then swept away the tears that had suddenly streamed down her cheeks: she didn’t want Jacob to see her upset, she had to be strong for him. She was unaware of the man watching her from the doorway of a shop on the opposite sidewalk. If she’d spotted him, she would have recognized his face, because he made no attempt to hide it. He watched her continue towards the sea front, and once she had a block’s lead he followed. He pulled out his cell phone as he walked.

  SEVEN

  ‘Well?’ Po asked. ‘What are you thinking, Tess?’

  ‘I can’t give you an answer,’ Tess replied, ‘because I don’t know how I feel about it yet. I need some time to absorb the idea.’

  ‘But what if he is my son?’

  ‘You don’t know if that’s true or not, do you? Wait a minute, did Elspeth put that idea in your head?’

  ‘Nope. I have eyes that can see, Tess.’

  They were still on the porch swing, and evening had fallen. The breeze had dropped, and the air was still warm enough that Tess was yet to wrap up in a blanket. Unlike before, she had unfolded her legs from under her and settled her bare feet on the floor. She leaned forward and braced both palms on the front edge of the swing. By virtue of her posture, Po had been moved away a few inches along the seat. Their minor separation spoke volumes about their moods.

  ‘Did you ask her about him?’

  ‘Like I said, I only spoke with her for a coupla minutes, and didn’t get chapter and verse. Only that she wasn’t stickin’ around, and that she was tryin’ to avoid her abusive husband.’

  ‘It’s odd that she’d be so open about running away … and why.’

  ‘Maybe she was reachin’ out for help, after all. But she didn’t know how to ask, and grew embarrassed when I offered it.’

  ‘She seemed frightened?’

  ‘Yeah. At first it was fear that I’d recognized her, then at what it might mean if I snitched.’

  ‘Did you speak with the boy?’

  ‘I said hi, but he was kinda tight-lipped. Looked me up and down like I was some kinda space alien from Mars. That was the extent of interest Jacob showed in me.’

  ‘That’s teenagers for you.’

  ‘He ain’t a teenager yet, he can’t be more than nine, maybe ten at a push.’

  ‘He was tall for his age.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Po agreed, forcing his original point home, ‘so was I. He also has my coloring and my eyes.’

  ‘His mother is tall, and, what about her eyes?’

  ‘Green.’

  ‘And Jacob’s are turquoise, like yours?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean a thing,’ she said, and it must have sounded like total denial.

  ‘Are you upset?’

  ‘That you might be a father to a kid you’ve never met before?’

  He didn’t reply. The tilt of his head said, What else could I have meant?

  ‘I’m not upset, Po,’ she reassured him. ‘What right have I got to be upset?’

  ‘You’re my fiancée.’ He reached and placed his hand over hers. ‘I thought maybe in the future, y’know, once we’re wed, we’d try for babies of our own.’

  ‘I do want kids … in the future.’

  ‘It’s just that we ain’t gettin’ any younger, Tess.’

  She turned a sharp squint on him. Tess was in her mid-thirties, she might be pushing the envelope when it came to first-time motherhood, but she wasn’t over the hill yet.

  ‘Least, I am,’ he corrected. ‘Th
e way things are going, I’m gonna be so old our kids might confuse me for their grandpa.’

  Tess removed her hand, but only so she could nudge him with her elbow. ‘Chill out, Methuselah, there’s still some life in you yet.’

  He ghosted a smile at the jibe, taking it for the endearment she intended.

  ‘If he is my son …’

  ‘Before you go any further with this you need to speak to Elspeth about him and find out for sure. After that, well, there’s always a paternity test.’

  ‘You’d support me if it came to it?’

  Tess didn’t answer. Really, there was no need.

  Po fell silent.

  Tess said, ‘I’m not going to lie to you, Po. I’m a bit mixed up in my head, right now. But that isn’t to say I’m upset, or mad, or anything else … I’m just, I don’t know, numb. Like I said, I need to absorb this, but without any clarity I don’t know exactly what to absorb.’

  ‘So you think I should contact her and ask straight out?’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, I do.’

  ‘You’d come with me?’

  ‘If that’s what you want.’

  He took her hand again and squeezed.

  ‘One problem,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t know how to contact her? Then it’s fortunate that your partner is a private investigator, isn’t it?’

  ‘How do you suggest we start looking?’

  ‘So, she’s on the run, and was trying to avoid anyone who knew her? That means she probably isn’t staying with anyone local, so took a room at a hotel instead. What was her surname again?’

  ‘Fuchs.’

  ‘That’s her married name?’

  ‘Nope. That’s what I knew her as. I don’t know who she wed.’

  ‘It’s unlikely she used her married name when making a booking, would she have used her maiden name, though?’ The question was rhetorical. ‘Last you saw her she was walking off up Market Street, right? There’s a hotel past the corner of Market and Fore.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean she’s stayin’ there. If she’s on the run wouldn’t she choose somewhere off the beaten path, and a bit less expensive?’

  ‘By the same token, wouldn’t she have avoided strolling about on the piers where it was likely she’d bump into somebody she knew?’

  ‘Fair comment.’

  ‘For somebody trying to hide she’s making a poor job of it.’

  ‘It’s probably her first time,’ Po reminded her. ‘Running away from abuse isn’t exactly somethin’ you can become an expert at. You get away clean or you get caught, there’s not much scope for fine-honing your skills.’

  ‘Let me go fetch my cell phone and I’ll make a start.’ Tess stood from the swing, adjusting her shorts so they weren’t riding so high. Po gave her rump an affectionate stroke. ‘Behave yourself, I never said if I’d forgiven you for standing me up yet.’

  He lounged back on the swing, watching her as she entered the house. She hobbled on her blistered feet, rubbing it in about her discomfort. He smiled at her daft antics. She was back within half a minute, walking perfectly normal this time. She frowned down at her cell phone.

  ‘Whassup?’ Po asked.

  ‘My ringer was off. I’ve several missed calls, all from the same number.’

  ‘Whose number?’

  She squinted at him. ‘Am I a psychic all of a sudden?’

  ‘Maybe you should call her back.’

  She turned the screen to him. ‘Is this Elspeth’s number?’

  ‘I ain’t psychic either, but I might’ve slipped her your business card when she hugged me goodbye. Y’know, just in case she had a change of mind.’

  She shook her head, but admittedly his move with the business card could save her some trouble locating Elspeth. Her idea of calling the hotel on Market Street was only the first of many inquiries she could have to make before finding her. Shaking her head at him again, she brought up the number and hit the call button. She watched Po take a deep breath and hold it. The phone rang repeatedly.

  ‘No answer,’ she said, and Po finally exhaled; his face had grown several shades darker.

  ‘Give it a minute and then try again,’ he urged.

  Tess was about to hit the call button. Instead her phone began ringing quietly, the volume still turned low and the reason they hadn’t heard it ringing earlier. ‘Same number.’

  ‘You gonna answer it?’

  She did. ‘Hello, this is Tess Grey.’

  ‘Is Nicolas there please?’ The voice was an anxious whisper.

  ‘Is this Elspeth Fuchs?’ asked Tess, though the chance of it being anyone else verged on zero.

  ‘Please, I need to speak with Nicolas.’

  ‘Nicolas is with me,’ Tess said, and held out the phone so that they could both hear and speak. ‘Elspeth, is something the matter?’

  ‘Please, I need your help,’ Elspeth replied still at a fearful whisper. ‘I’m being followed; I’m afraid they’re going to take my son away. Nicolas said you could help.’

  ‘Who’s following you?’ Po demanded.

  Hearing him, Elspeth’s words came out in a rush. ‘I don’t know, just some guy. I haven’t had a good look at his face yet. But he followed us from the hotel and … I think he was watching for us leaving. He’s on his cell, talking to somebody else. I think he’s talking to Caleb. I think Caleb’s coming for us. Please, Nicolas, you said you could help.’

  Tess exchanged a glance with him, nodded, but he didn’t require permission to answer for them both. ‘We will help,’ he said. ‘Elspeth, where are you?’

  ‘We’re outside a chowder restaurant on Custom House Wharf.’

  ‘This guy, can you see him?’

  ‘Yes. He’s further down the boardwalk pretending he’s interested in the boats.’

  ‘Is he aware that you’ve made him?’

  ‘Yes. No. I don’t know! He’s watching us, but has been careful not to make eye contact; he’s definitely after us. Everywhere we’ve been since we came out, he’s been, and it isn’t down to coincidence.’

  They were already scrambling into action, Tess looking for shoes she could slip into, while Po was digging for his car keys. ‘OK. Listen to me,’ Po instructed. ‘Don’t give him any reason to approach or chase you. Carry on walking, take it easy, and stay near to other people. Go back to where we first laid eyes on each other this afternoon. You know where I mean, the Berlin Wall monument? Wait there in full view, so he can’t get at you alone. If he does approach you, shout and scream, make as much noise and fuss as possible. We are about twenty minutes away, but we are comin’, OK. Stay on the phone and don’t hang up. I’ve a friend who might be much closer to you; if he’s home he should be there within five minutes.’

  Tess and Po raced to where his Mustang waited.

  ‘How will I know your friend from another of Caleb’s men?’

  ‘He’s called Pinky Leclerc,’ said Po, as he clambered into the driving seat, ‘and believe me, there’s no mistakin’ Pinky.’

  EIGHT

  Caleb Moorcock drove with his cell phone to his ear, taking things steady as he followed the traffic. It was dusk, and many of the daytime visitors had returned to their hotels or to restaurants for dinner. The streets were still busy though, with groups of drinkers making their first forays of the evening on the bars. It would do him no good to run over any of the young carousers who thought nothing of trotting out into the traffic without warning. His pickup, with its extended cab, was a huge vehicle and would turn a careless jaywalker into mulch beneath its tires. Not that he gave a shit for any of their lives, but he didn’t want to attract the attention of the police while he was here in Portland. Unlike back home where his pa had most of the local sheriff’s deputies on his payroll, the cops here were another story entirely. His intention was to leave Portland without anyone knowing he’d even been in town, his primary reason for not storming Elspeth’s hotel already and dragging her and the boy kicking and screaming to his truck.

  D
ays ago Caleb had traveled from the commune, dogging Elspeth’s steps as she fled across the state lines to the town where she had grown up. When first she’d lit out, he had been unsure where she would flee, but with little experience of living anywhere but the commune it was likely she’d return somewhere familiar from her adolescence. He knew she’d no family here to speak of, both of her parents having passed, and her one surviving sister living in the Far East. Caleb had wondered if she had an old friend she planned running to, but it had been more than ten years since she had left Portland, and in that time he had not allowed her to keep in touch with anyone. The commune was secular, its regular inhabitants dissuaded from communicating with the outside world by the banning of cell phones, radios and computers. Only a select few had access to communication equipment, and the privilege did not extend to women or children. When Caleb had traveled here, it was with a companion. Jeremy Decker spoke to him on the phone, keeping him apprised of Elspeth’s movements on the pier, guiding Caleb to his wife.

  Earlier in the day, Caleb and Decker had both observed Elspeth and Jacob as they spoke briefly with a tall guy that Caleb was certain he had seen before. It was only when Elspeth initiated a hug that Caleb had recalled Po’boy’s identity and caused his teeth to grind in anger. Po’boy was the damn Cajun Elspeth had been dallying with before Caleb arrived on the scene and swept her off her feet. As he watched them part, Elspeth blowing a kiss at her old sweetheart, Caleb had entertained the notion that Po’boy was her reason for returning here. But no. Further observation showed Elspeth rushing back to her hotel with Jacob in tow, almost as eager to escape Po’boy as from Caleb himself. Nominating Decker to stake out the hotel, Caleb had gone to another hotel from where he could strategize. He had used his cell phone to call his pa, and request some more guys to help him bring home his wife and son. His brother Darrell was en route now with four of the boys, and a vehicle in which the two runaways could be transported back to where they belonged. Worryingly, Decker had reported that Elspeth had seemingly gotten her hands on a cell phone and was talking to somebody, maybe making arrangements to move on. It wasn’t an ideal scenario, but if the opportunity arose, Caleb would grab her and the boy and haul them away in his pickup first, and transfer them to the van once Darrell arrived.