How I Lost You

by Jenny Blackhurst

  Warm tears roll down my nose onto my lips, but I don’t brush them away. Let him see, let him see how he’s hurt me. “How could you not know? How could you just believe him over me?”

  “You believed you’d done it.” Mark rubs his face with his free hand. “Susan, I’d thought about telling you about Beth a million times. I’d imagined you hugging me and telling me it was okay, that we’d get through it together and you’d still love me, but I knew deep down that could never happen. When Jack said that Jennifer had told you everything, and that you were both dead, I was devastated, but I believed him because I knew you. I knew you couldn’t live the rest of your life with a murderer, and I knew you couldn’t turn me in to the police. I thought you’d seen no other choice.”

  I do feel for him; my heart aches at the thought of him going through his daily life thinking all the time that he was about to lose everything. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Then I remember how I felt every day thinking I’d killed my son, how that was a direct result of the terrible thing he had done, and I want him to pay.

  “I can’t tell you how I would have reacted if you’d told me what happened to Beth.” I keep my voice low and he has to lean in to hear me. “But know this, Mark, I would have killed all four of you before I let anything happen to my boy.”

  “Susan, we’ll go to the police, I’ll tell them everything, we’ll find Dylan, I promise. But we have to get out of here first. For Dylan.” He squeezes my hand again. “Can you do that?”

  I nod.

  The sirens are louder now, announcing our rescuers. But they’re going to be too late.

  Jennifer is moving back towards us, something in her hand. A small transparent bottle that looks empty but isn’t. Turpentine.

  “I knew it would come to this.” Her voice is level, calm. “I hope you’re happy, Mark. This is for Beth.”

  She lifts her foot, then flings it out, connecting with the bin. Flames reach out from the rim like skeletal fingers grappling to catch hold of the fluid on the ground. Mark screams “Go!” just as the bin topples over, the entire wall ignites, and the door is lost in a forest of flame.

  61

  MARK: 27 NOVEMBER 1992

  It had almost made it easier, the robe, the hood, no movement or sound. Okay, when the girls were conscious he could pretend they were enjoying what he was doing to them, just about. But not seeing the fear in her eyes, not knowing if she was feeling pain or shame, in a fucked-up way, it had helped.

  Most of the boys were now slumped in their chairs, trying desperately to drink themselves into a guiltless stupor. Mark sat at the edge of the group, drinking more than he knew he should. It wasn’t helping.

  Jack was standing apart from the rest of them, openly watching Mark down glass after glass. His words rang in Mark’s ears: Did you really think I was just going to let you go?

  Surely this wasn’t it? Was he actually going to be allowed to leave?

  “Your turn, boss.” Adam clamped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Mark watched Jack shake his head.

  “Not this time, mate. We need to move fast. Time for the finale. Gentlemen.” He spoke more loudly now, addressing the group. “As you all know, one of our number planned to leave us tonight.”

  Everyone’s attention was piqued, no one’s more than Mark’s. Jack turned to face him, his features flickering ominously in the candlelight.

  “We here”—Jack gestured around him—“were born of privilege. Or most of us were.” He looked pointedly at Mark. “Some of you are here because I deemed you worthy to be here, even if you might have forgotten that. The rest of you are here because your fathers, your grandfathers decreed it so. These are the generations. Yet one of you doesn’t see that as the same honor as the rest. One of you doesn’t appreciate the generosity I have shown in bringing you the finest fruits Durham has to offer, week upon week. The power I have bestowed on you. Perhaps this will make you all see.”

  Mark’s heart felt as though it would burst from his chest as Jack strode towards him, putting a hand inside his robe and drawing out a small silver object. He gestured for Mark to follow him to where the girl lay prone on the table. She was breathing lightly, her chest rising and falling under the black garb, but she hadn’t moved in the hour she had been in the room. Although Mark couldn’t see her face under the dark hood, it was clear she was out cold.

  “What the hell is this?” Mark asked as Jack handed him what he’d taken from his robe. A knife.

  “This is your heritage,” Jack announced, waving his hand around the room, indicating each of the other men and coming to rest on the girl. “You think you can leave us? You are one of us. Our blood flows in your veins. Now it is time for you to swear your allegiance. To prove yourself. Kill her.”

  A couple of the followers gasped involuntarily. Jack swung around to face them. “Do any of you have a problem with our brother showing his loyalty to the group? Perhaps one of you would rather do it for him?”

  All around him heads hung. Shock at what he was proposing rendered the group mute. Not one follower spoke out at the atrocity that was being suggested to them. Except Mark.

  “No fucking way. No way, Jack. Are you crazy? Do you even understand what you’re saying?”

  “Crazy?” Jack’s voice bounced off every wall in the warehouse. “Crazy? I make sure you walk on water in this fucking place and this is what I get?” He nodded at Adam, who moved to the corner of the room and picked up a small metal bin. “I can see you need some convincing.” Jack nodded again, this time at two of the other boys, who flanked Mark and took a tight hold of his forearms. “Ad . . .”

  Adam’s face was a picture of triumph. As though he was presenting a trophy, he held the bin up to Mark’s face and Mark couldn’t help but look inside.

  “Condoms?” Fear gave way to confusion. Jack looked pleased.

  “Condoms. Condoms that prove that each and every one of you fucked this girl. Now either you do as I’ve told you, or I’ll do it. And every person in this room will be implicated in her death.” He turned to the rest of the group. “Shall we take a vote?”

  It didn’t need any discussion.

  “For God’s sake do it, Webster.” One of the boys at the back, Mark couldn’t see if it was Turner or Thorpe, spoke out. “We’re all in this balls deep anyway. Don’t let that piece of trash bring us all down.”

  There was a murmured consensus. Mark’s eyes swung wildly about, desperately looking for someone to tell him this was a joke. Even Matty was examining his shoes, starkly refusing to come to his aid.

  “You cannot be serious. Does any one of you actually realize what he’s asking me to do? Murder! He’s asking me to kill her!”

  “No one has to know.” Jack spoke softly, holding out the knife again. “You do this and we’re a brotherhood again. We’re all in this together, Mark. Together, just like we always wanted it. We’ll protect you. You walk away from us and you’ll never have that kind of protection again. You walk away from us and you’re finished. A rapist. You’ll go to prison and lose your glittering career. Your future with Beth? Over.”

  Beth. What would she say if she found out? Mark had no doubt Jack was telling the truth: if he didn’t do this, his life with Beth was over. It was what Jack had wanted from the start, and here it was. He had to do as he was told. Keep Jack sweet. For Beth.

  He stepped forward and took the knife. He heard a gasp, looked up just in time to see Matty momentarily glance up and catch his eye. Then his gaze hit the floor again.

  “That’s a good choice, Mark, a very good choice. For you, for Beth. Here, let me help.”

  Jack moved to where the prone body rested on the table. He lifted the hood to expose a creamy white neck and pointed to a spot to the left of her trachea.

  “Left to right, clean sweep. Easy.”

  Mark’s hand squeezed the handle of the knife, trying to make it feel comfortable in his palm. There was no way he could do this.

  “Do it, Mark, just do it.
For Beth.” Jack’s breath was warm on Mark’s cheek. Do it. For Beth.

  He followed Jack’s instructions. Left to right. A clean sweep. Easier than he’d ever thought taking a life would be. The blood that pumped through his hands was warm and sticky; instinctively he wiped it on his robes, but his hands were stained red. Tainted. He knew in that second that they would be red forever.

  Jack let out a long breath and Mark knew in that instant that his leader had never actually expected him to do it. The moment hit him full force. The moment he realized what he’d done. He had actually killed a woman. Someone’s daughter, maybe someone’s sister, a woman just like Beth.

  Jack recovered quickly and slammed Mark heartily on the back.

  “Well done, my friend!” His voice echoed out over the dead silence of the room. Mark flinched at the touch and sprang backwards, away from him.

  “Don’t!” he barked. “Don’t touch me. Oh God, oh God,” and turning away from the group, he retched, then vomited warm bile and alcohol out onto the floor.

  “I understand.” Jack held up his hands and stepped back. “It’s your first time, a lot to take in.” He turned to the group. “Give the man a round of applause, fellas.” The room remained silent. “I said clap!”

  The boys broke into unenthusiastic applause. Mark thought he was going to be sick again. He sank to the floor, rubbing his eyes over and over, as though he could rub the memory away. “Get up,” Jack instructed. When Mark didn’t comply, Jack nodded at Adam, who pulled him roughly to his feet. “You have proved yourself loyal to the Brotherhood, my friend. Now it’s time to clear up your mess.” He gestured to where the girl was still lying on the table, blood pooling around her, dripping slowly to the floor below.

  “My . . .” Mark’s tongue couldn’t quite form the words.

  “Don’t worry, Matthew will help you. Wrap her in that”—Jack pointed to a black bin bag underneath the table that Mark hadn’t even noticed before—“then dump her. You can use Adam’s car.”

  Adam automatically reached into his pocket for his keys.

  Jack faced the group once more. “The rest of you can go. But before you do, let us get one thing straight. We are all in this together.” He pointed at each of them in turn. “Every one of you fucked that girl tonight; it may as well have been any one of your hands on that knife. The Brotherhood must stick together at times like this.” He turned to look Mark square in the eye. “That’s what friends are for. We were together tonight, in the student bar. All night.”

  The boys all nodded numbly. No one spoke as they left, just Matthew, Mark, Adam, and Jack remaining.

  “I’m proud of you, Mark.” Jack spoke quietly, softly. “When I heard you were planning to leave us, I was hurt, I thought we were brothers. Now I see you are truly one of us.”

  “One of you?” He forced the words out painfully. “Never.”

  Jack laughed. “Says the murderer.” Mark flinched. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot, you did it for Beth. Don’t pretend you had noble intentions, Mark: you did what I told you to do to save your own skin. For God’s sake, you didn’t even want to know whose throat you were slitting. You should have at least asked.”

  Something in Jack’s voice made Mark’s heart clench like a fist. “Who is she?”

  Jack’s eyes smiled but his mouth didn’t move.

  “Who is she, Jack?” They were the first words Matthew had spoken, but they were tinged with urgency. In that second, Mark knew, and he thought Matthew knew it too.

  “God, no. Jack, tell me it’s not . . .” He ran over to where the girl’s lifeless body lay as though wading through water. His hand reached out to the black hood that covered her face. He didn’t want to do it, the last thing he wanted was to see the face of the woman whose life he had taken, the gaping wound he knew was under the cloth, but he had to know for sure. His fingers shook as he laced them underneath and slowly lifted the hood. Red hair tumbled out over the table and dead green eyes stared back at him.

  62

  Mark flings himself sideways, away from the wall of heat and fire, still holding my hand. My arm is wrenched with him and I fall sideways, my feet scrabbling wildly, trying to connect with the floor.

  Jennifer stands in the middle of the room, watching the orange forks snake towards us. She’s screaming, her voice echoing above the roar of the fire.

  The pipe beneath us is searing with red heat. My arm slips downwards and connects with the copper; blistering pain shoots through my wrist and I smell the sharp stench of my own flesh burning. Mark jerks his arm upwards, pulling my skin away from the pipe. He uses his free hand to pull me to my knees and together we inch towards the flames.

  “It’s too hot, we’ll be killed!” I hear the panic in my voice and feel the terror rising in my chest. He’s pulling me towards the wall of fire; neither of us is going to make it.

  The flames are snaking their way up the walls, flowing upwards like a horrific reverse flood. My skin feels like it’s blistering from the heat and I imagine Mark catching fire, writhing around in a human fireball attached to my arm. I can still smell the turpentine on my face and I know that if I get too close to the flames I’m dead.

  “Now!” He throws himself forward, and at the last minute his free hand grasps the end of the pipe and wrenches it towards us. It comes away from the wall with the most satisfying crunch I’ve heard in my life. Mark yanks me with it and I fall face-first onto the dirt-covered floor, but we’re free.

  I can hear Mark’s agonizing screams reverberating around my head, and now they’re mixed with another sound, a primal roar. Smoke fills my lungs and I can’t scream, I can’t warn him that Jennifer is running towards us, wielding the bottle like a trophy.

  “Mark!” I grab his arm and pull him towards me, forcing his eyes away from his injuries and onto the screaming woman heading straight for us. As her body connects with mine I feel cold liquid slosh over my hair and face, soaking me and her both. I hear one more scream, a low, guttural sound, and see Mark’s free hand seize her hair. I look into his eyes and hear myself shout “No!” but he doesn’t hear me. Grabbing hold of her with both hands, he uses every ounce of strength to throw them both towards the white-hot flames.

  “Mark!” I try to scream, but smoke fills my lungs and I fall to the floor coughing, struggling for breath.

  He’s dead, and so is she. My ex-husband, and our only hope of finding our son.

  Then I see him, dragging himself towards me. He’s alive. He’s alive and we are going to find Dylan.

  “Susan.” He’s rasping, his arm over his face to shield himself from the smoke. “The door.”

  I turn to look at it. The twisted wood is crawling with flames, our exit concealed in a sea of orange and black.

  “Is there another way out?” I lean in towards him, both of us crouched on the floor as low as we can get. The smoke is thick here but nothing compared to standing height. “Mark? Is there another way out?”

  The smoke is cloying at my eyes and mouth, snaking its way in through my nostrils and invading my lungs. I lie down, just for a second, and Mark lies with me.

  “I’m so sorry, Susan,” he whispers in my ear. “So, so sorry. I love you so much.”

  “Ssshhh,” I tell him. “Just pretend with me a minute. Pretend we’re at home. Dylan’s here, he’s here with us, and we’ll never leave him again. Promise me, Mark, we’ll never leave him again.”

  I wait for his promise, but no words come. When I open my eyes to look at him, his are closed.

  If I just rest my eyes for a minute, just a second, then I’ll be fine. There are no more sirens, no shouting or screaming, just the roaring of the flames, and I roll into Mark’s arms for the last time.

  63

  JACK: 23 JULY 2009

  I can’t help it if you keep employing snitches, Tony. What the fuck am I supposed to do, screen your payroll for informants? I’m a lawyer, not a recruitment consultant. What do you pay that prick Donaldson for?”

  The p
hone beeped in his ear, interrupting his rant. He pulled it away to look at the screen, could still hear Tony Wood bleating at the other end.

  Jenny. Oh great, what the fuck did she want?

  “Tony, I have to go. I’ll call tomorrow to make an appointment to visit. Look, there’s no need for that kind of language. Wear something that’ll make the other inmates jealous.”

  He ended the call, ignoring the furious protests of the man on the other end of the line. “Jennifer, my beautiful cousin, apple of Lucifer’s eye, what do you want from me?”

  “You need to get over to Webster’s house. Now.”

  Well, there was a name he hadn’t heard in a while.

  “What’s going on, Jennifer? Are you at Webster’s house now? What have you done?”

  There was silence at the other end of the line. Then, “I told his wife.”

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

  “What did you tell her? What did she say?” He did not have time for this mess right now. He was busy enough with the firm as it was without cleaning up his psychotic cousin’s fuck-ups.

  “She wouldn’t listen, Jack! She tried to fight me. I pushed her. She’s dead, and just to be sure, I pumped her full of ket.”

  Jack swore loudly. “Well, I can put you in touch with a good lawyer,” he offered sardonically.

  Jennifer laughed, a sound that made the hairs on his arms prickle. “I don’t need a lawyer, Jack. I need you to come and sort this out for me. I’m leaving, I’m driving away right now, and you’re going to come here and fix this whole mess.”