by Beevis, Keri
Wasn’t it?
Aaron’s father was cold and calculating, but he wasn’t the type of person to break into someone’s house, and he sure as hell wasn’t savvy on social media. He didn’t even know how Facebook worked, so wouldn’t have a clue about setting up a fake account. It was laughable really.
While Aaron didn’t believe he had gone after Lila, it did bother him that his father’s whereabouts couldn’t always be verified, so when the police wanted alibis and Aaron’s mother was quick to provide them, anxiety had knotted his gut.
The night of the most recent attack on Lila, Richard hadn’t been home with Judith. Aaron clearly remembered that she had arrived back from her club and had spent much of the night worrying where the hell his father was. He had his suspicions, was fairly certain Richard was seeing other women, and knew his mother suspected so too.
So why was she covering for him?
If she got caught, if the police found out that it had just been Aaron and his mother in the house, what would happen? Would she be arrested for lying? Go to prison even?
Aaron couldn’t deal with that, was so mad at her for taking the risk. His mother was the one constant in his life and she loved him regardless, and he knew, beyond doubt, that she would do anything for him. He couldn’t afford to lose her.
She was repeatedly telling Aaron that he was the most important person to her, so why was she now putting his cheating cruel father first, when he really didn’t give two hoots about her?
What if his father really had been up to no good and it was found out Aaron’s mother had lied? Aaron stewed on that thought for much of the day, too restless to study, too wound up to play computer games, and he finally concluded he wouldn’t settle until he found out what his father was really up to.
It was early evening and his mother had gone to the supermarket, while his father was still at school (allegedly), the only one not to rush out of the building to enjoy a warm Friday evening. Aaron knew this scenario well – hell, he lived it most weeks. His mother would spend time in the kitchen preparing dinner, leaving it in the oven as she waited for his father to arrive home. She would alternate between pacing and sitting at the kitchen table looking confused and dejected, and often she would pour herself a generous vodka and tonic, desperate to numb the disappointment. Eventually she would eat alone, though keep Richard’s plated, ready to fuss around him when he eventually returned. Invariably these days he got takeout on the way – Aaron thought, often to spite her – and he would reject the food she offered, instead retiring to his study.
That was where Aaron started, figuring if there were clues about his father, Aaron would find them in there. The room was locked – no surprise – and the key would be with his father, on his key ring. There was a spare though and Aaron knew exactly where his father hid it. Aaron found it on the top wide ledge above the door and let himself into the room.
The place was his father’s sanctuary and where he spent most of his time; the cherry-red walls neatly filled with various certificates and photographs, though none there of Aaron or his mother. The large mahogany desk in front of the sash window was showy, its surface shiny and neat with a computer, a leather diary, a pot of pens and the one framed photograph finally acknowledging family. It was a shot of Aaron that had been taken at school and was about three years old. There was nothing in the room though to hint Richard had a wife. This was his room, his private space, and Judith Gruger wasn’t welcome, not even to clean.
Aaron had been in the room many times when his parents were out, so was familiar with where to find things. Although he had flicked through the diary before, he still sat down at the desk and studied the pages, this time more carefully. They gave nothing away, recording only school activities and a couple of official dinners and conferences that were coming up.
The desk drawers were almost empty, one containing a handful of business cards, half a packet of mints and a couple of jotter pads. They were unused though. There was only one item in the other drawer; a well-thumbed Ian Rankin novel.
Aaron turned his attention to the filing cabinet, his gaze slipping to the small side table that housed two decanters. He knew one contained whisky, the other brandy, having sampled them before, and decided to have a quick sneaky sip from each decanter before he continued his detective work.
The filing cabinet yielded no surprises. Aaron knew it contained school documents, but did a brisk check through to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. He glanced at the wall clock, conscious his mother would be home soon.
He took another cheeky swig from the whisky decanter before giving the office a once over, satisfied nothing looked as though it had been disturbed, and closed then locked the door. He replaced the key, frowning as he debated where else his father’s secrets might be hidden.
The warm lick of whisky sizzled in his stomach, making him bolder, as he made his way upstairs to his parents’ bedroom. He eased open the door, guilt burning with the whisky. While he was happy to snoop through his father’s study, the bedroom was off limits. This was his mother’s space too and Aaron had no want or need to invade it.
He found what he was looking for in the bottom drawer of a chest that sat facing the bed. The drawer contained mostly scarves, gloves and woollen hats, the kind of items that weren’t needed much at that time of the year. The mobile phone that was hidden inside one of the gloves was a cheap model.
Aaron licked his dry lips, switching it on, waited for the screen to load. There were no calls or text messages and there was only one app downloaded. It was for Facebook.
He clicked on the icon, heartbeat quickening as the phone logged straight into an account. Veronica Crowther.
He knew the name, had heard the police mention it to his father when they were questioning him about Lila Amberson. He glanced at the profile, recognised it for the fake that it was. So it was true, his father had been the one going after Lila.
Did his mother have any idea?
Closing Facebook, Aaron clicked into pictures. There were a dozen images, all appeared to be of Lila and taken from a distance. She had no idea she was being photographed.
He scrolled through the pictures, zoomed in on a couple. She really was very pretty, with her soft dark hair and wide expressive eyes, but she was so down to earth and modest, he knew she would never think of herself that way.
The last picture had him gasping out loud and for a moment, he couldn’t actually breathe, his vision swimming as he tried to refocus on the screen, understand what he was seeing.
It couldn’t be.
How the hell had he missed this?
He was so caught up in his thoughts he almost didn’t hear the front door opening.
His mother was home.
Aaron forced himself to move, closing the drawer and slipping the phone into his pocket.
He got to his feet, annoyed to feel his legs shaking.
He needed to go downstairs to his mother and tell her what he had found, and he needed to do it quickly.
Before his father arrived home.
35
It was his youngest brother’s twenty-first birthday and Jack knew he should want to help Oliver celebrate, but instead he was dragging his heels, spending time with his dog down by the creek, reluctant to go shower and change, even though he was cutting things tight before he had to leave, because he knew he didn’t want Lila to be on her own.
Technically she wasn’t on her own. Elliot had eventually agreed to come over and the pair of them were currently fighting over what movie they planned to watch on Jack’s huge screen TV. Elliot being there made Jack feel a little easier, though he wasn’t quite sure what use the kid would be if Gruger made another attempt to get to Lila. Elliot was company though, the house was fitted with a good alarm system, and hopefully Gruger wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything after the previous night’s fiasco.
It had been a mistake driving out to Filby, Jack knew that now; the hot-headed temper that he’d inherited from hi
s dad getting him into trouble not for the first time. And Jack had scared the crap out of Lila, regretted it bitterly; hence his reluctance to leave her alone.
She wasn’t Tiff, didn’t have her hard exterior where she could just shrug things off. Not that it made her weaker. Lila was one of the strongest people Jack had met. Her weakness was that she cared, maybe too much, and unlike Tiffany, Lila wore her heart on her sleeve. The previous night he had hurt her and scared her, almost gotten her shot. If he hadn’t gone off half-cocked and determined to make Gruger pay, she wouldn’t have had that nightmare, wouldn’t have spent all night down the police station with Tom. It was his fault she’d had barely any sleep and was exhausted.
Christ, Jack. You really are a shit.
Maybe someone like Tiffany was better for him. She was more brittle, didn’t bruise so easily. And he didn’t carry all this guilt when he fucked up with Tiff. Whenever he lost his temper and did something rash, she would cold shoulder him until he apologised and then they would start over. He had never caused her a sleepless night.
She would take him back in a heartbeat, Jack knew that, had five texts and one voicemail on his phone – none of which he’d replied to – since they’d broken up.
Because you don’t love Tiffany.
No, so okay he didn’t, but there was no denying she was stunning to look at and they’d had fun together. And it wasn’t as though he was in love with Lila. It was far too soon for that. They’d barely known each other any time at all, had been thrown together in unusual circumstances.
The sex was good, he wasn’t disputing that… okay, it wasn’t just good, it was great, and he liked having her around, spending time with her, to the point he didn’t want to leave her, knew she would likely be on his mind for much of the evening.
Because you’re falling in love with her.
He wasn’t. That was ridiculous. They were still getting to know each other.
Bottom line was, he didn’t want to hurt her and, hard as it would be to end things, maybe walking away would be better for her in the long run.
And then who would look out for her? You’re worried about leaving her alone tonight?
True, he was, but maybe he was overreacting. She had Elliot and when she returned to her flat it would be fully alarmed. Jack hadn’t skimped on the system, wanted to know that Lila would be safe there the next time she was alone.
So one minute you’re worried about leaving her alone in the house, the next you’re thinking about leaving her permanently. What the fuck is it you want, Jack? Just yesterday you were planning to introduce her to your mother!
Truth was, he didn’t know what he wanted. The previous night had shaken everything up and he had no idea why he was suddenly feeling that way when he had been so certain of what he wanted up until that morning.
‘You okay in here?’
Jack glanced up, the look of concern on Lila’s face making his heart flip and question everything further. He had never been attracted to anyone like her before and the idea of not having her in his life, in his bed, was so unbearable he wasn’t sure he could end it, but he had no right to keep on hurting her.
He finished rubbing Cooper down, got to his feet. ‘I’m fine. I need to go shower. I’m gonna be late.’
She didn’t say anything, watched him go, and Jack didn’t look back at her.
As he went through the motions of getting ready, his mood soured further. He wasn’t in the right mind space to be around anyone, knew he wasn’t going to be good company at his brother’s meal.
‘I’m off!’ he shouted through to where Lila and Elliot were sat on the sofa, heading straight to the front door. ‘I won’t be late.’
Elliot raised a hand though didn’t look up from the TV screen. Jack was expecting Lila to get up, but she surprised him, remaining on the sofa beside her brother. Instead she nodded, gave him a brief smile.
Had she picked up on what he’d been thinking?
He didn’t stop to find out, instead let himself out of the house, soothed by the touch of the early evening sun on his skin, relieved to finally be alone.
As he was backing out of the driveway, the front door opened and Lila appeared. She was holding up a card.
Oliver’s card with the New York tickets. Jack had nearly bloody forgotten it.
He pulled on the handbrake, got out of the car. ‘Thank you.’
Lila held on to the card for a moment. ‘Are you okay, Jack? I mean, really okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ The words rolled off his tongue, the lie smooth and light. ‘I’m going to be late though.’
He distracted her with a brief kiss on the lips, took the card. ‘Lock the door, okay?’
Lila nodded again, though stayed where she was, watching him as he drove away.
Jack was late for the meal, but it didn’t stop him taking a longer route to the restaurant. He wasn’t in the mood for company. He was still conflicted over what to do about Lila, irritated also because he had tried to get hold of Stephanie’s ex-boyfriend, Dan, only to find out he was away travelling.
When Jack pulled into the car park twenty minutes later, Alyssa was waiting outside for him, arms crossed and foot tapping in irritation.
‘Jack! You’re late. Oliver’s going to be here any minute.’
Jack scowled at her, handing over the card. ‘Best you stop moaning at me then and go inside.’
He didn’t wait for her reply, striding ahead of her into the almost-empty restaurant, heard the clip of her heels as she darted along behind him.
Giles and Simon were the only ones sitting at the large corner table the waiter directed Jack to and Giles glanced up sheepishly as he saw Jack heading towards them. He had been avoiding Jack ever since approaching Lila, and Jack was still fuming about the encounter.
‘Not tonight, Jack,’ Alyssa warned. ‘Tonight is about Oliver. Don’t ruin it by causing a scene with Giles. Talk to him afterwards if you have to, but not now, not when Oliver is about to get here.’
It was going to be difficult. Jack wanted to throttle her boyfriend, but she was right, if he said anything before the meal it would get ugly fast. ‘It’s fine. I’m not going to ruin Oliver’s meal.’ He nodded a hello to Simon then purposely took a seat on the other end of the table to Giles and gave him a glare. ‘He’s not off the hook though,’ he told his sister, making sure Giles realised what he was talking about. For once the pompous arse stayed quiet. ‘Anyway, where are Tom and Immy? I thought everyone else was here.’
‘They’ve got a flat tyre. Immy called just before you got here to say they’re running late.’ Alyssa opened Oliver’s card and glanced over it. ‘Jack! You haven’t signed this.’
‘What?’
‘For God’s sake, Jack, Olly’s going to be here any minute.’
Jack looked at the card. With all the drama of the last twenty-four hours, he had forgotten. Still it was only a stupid card, hardly the end of the world. His sister was getting high-pitched though and he couldn’t be dealing with that.
‘It’s no big deal. I’ll sign it now.’ He took the card from her, realised he didn’t have a pen. ‘Have you–?’
‘Here!’ Alyssa had already pulled one from her handbag, was holding it out to him, a glare on her face. ‘Hurry,’ she fumed.
‘All right!’ To piss her off, Jack took a moment to read the other messages. The one in the bottom right corner from Giles caught his eye.
Enjoy New York, old chap. Hope you like our surprise. It’s been tough keeping it a secret.
A fist clenched Jack’s gut, squeezed hard, as he focussed on the word secret, recognising the loopy scrawl.
He tried to remain calm and rational despite the heat of blood rushing to his head as he pulled out his wallet, reached inside for the gift tag he had taken from Stephanie’s room. The heavy black ink, the wide loopy S, the over exaggerated hook on the bottom of the T. He was no handwriting expert but didn’t need to be to know both the card and tag had been written by the same hand
.
‘Jack! What the hell are you playing at? And what is that?’
Jack looked past Alyssa to Giles, saw his piggy eyes drop to the tag and caught the moment of recognition as his face drained of colour.
‘It was you!’
‘Jack! What are you talking about?’
Alyssa was still speaking, but Jack wasn’t listening, the blood pounding in his head, rage swirling in his gut. He thought of the gifts in Stephanie’s wardrobe, about what she had told Imogen happened on Christmas Day, his focus purely on Giles who was suddenly squirming in his chair.
The next couple of minutes were a blur as Jack was on his feet, closing the distance between him and Giles. Giles was already protesting his innocence, wildly looking around him and trying to get to his feet, seeming keen to make an escape. He was wedged between the table and the wall though, had barely made it out when Jack’s fist connected with his jaw.
As Giles stumbled against the table, red wine spilling and glass smashing, Alyssa was screaming at Jack to stop, hanging onto his arm as he grabbed Giles by the collar then Henry’s angry voice was booming across the room and Jack glanced up to see him marching towards the table, accompanied by Jack’s mother and Oliver, demanding to know what the hell was going on.
Jack ignored him as he took another swing at Giles, heard a satisfying crack. He would have taken a third shot, but hands had hold of him, were pulling him back.
‘Are you crazy?’ That was from Giles, who was doing his best to look affronted. ‘I think you’ve broken my nose!’
‘What the hell, Jack?’ Alyssa hissed. ‘I told you to drop the whole Lila thing for tonight. What the fuck’s wrong with you?’
‘This isn’t about Lila,’ Jack raged in her face. He tried to pull free from the iron grip his stepfather and Oliver had him in, saw Giles flinch and take a step back. He was cupping his hand over his nose, but Jack could see the blood dripping through his fingers. ‘Go ahead and tell her what you did to Stephanie, you fucking creep.’
