Living On Air

by Susan Mac Nicol

  A hysterical giggle welled from my core. “God doesn’t like paedophiles or murderers either, you sick fuck, so you can put up with my foul mouth. You didn’t mind it when it was wrapped around that thing you had in your pants.” Breath came out of me in sharp, short pants, misting the air. Memories of me on my knees, his large hand on my head, forcing me down, seared my soul like branding irons.

  Littlejohn moved closer and I took a step back. “Boy, you blaspheme and I’ve a good mind to bend you over my knee and discipline you. You’re never too old for that.”

  I laughed, sounding like a lunatic. “Yeah? I’m not that kid anymore. You destroyed that boy the night you murdered my family, slaughtered them like animals. Do you remember that day, Father Price? The day my father found you fucking me, while I cried for you to stop, like a wounded animal?”

  Littlejohn nodded. “That was a sad day, Christopher, and I never wanted it to end the way it did. But I couldn’t let your father expose me. I had my parish to think of, my family. My brother and his career. Teddy was bound for great things in parliament and a scandal would have ruined him. And I wanted you. You were my sweet thing. I loved you so much.”

  The bushes rustled again but it could have been a badger, or a fox.

  Was that enough for Mayhew? Perhaps I could stop this travesty now. Was it enough for me? No. I needed to hear him confess.

  “Teddy died anyway, didn’t he, a year after,” I spat. “I wish he was alive now to see this, to know what you’d become. I thought it was you who’d died, and you know what I did? I rejoiced with booze and a cutting session worthy of a butcher. Only you escaped the Grim Reaper and continued being the scourge of the earth.”

  Littlejohn stepped forward. He was now only a couple of feet away. I saw the lines in his face, the bloat in his cheeks, and the jowl that trembled with suppressed anger. He had not aged well as evil men were wont to do.

  “Teddy was my twin,” he said, “and he would never have judged me. Only God can judge.”

  “He’ll judge all right.” I tried to keep my body from shaking but was fighting a losing battle. The cold seeped into my bones, filling them. “As a pervert and a murderer. That day you came to visit, to plead with my family not to expose you, was the day we all died.”

  “I came to negotiate,” Littlejohn protested. “Your stupid father got all aggressive and threatened me with a gun. What did you expect me to do?”

  “You killed them,” I screamed. “You shot my mother, my little sister, who was only six years old, you blew a hole through her chest. I was covered with their blood.”

  He shrugged. “It was unfortunate. And you, clever boy, where did you hide? I looked for you forever.”

  I closed my eyes, memories of that night flooding back. “You shot my dad in his armchair,” I whispered. “After making him watch my mother and sister die. I hid behind the couch. When you turned your back to gulp from that silver flask you carry,” I motioned to his hip pocket, “I lifted my father’s body, crawled under him, and arranged him on top of me, like a marionette.” I stopped to take a few deep breaths before the panic hit me. “I hid within the folds of his jacket. When you went into another room to search for me, I got out and I fucking ran across the fields, and I didn’t look back.”

  The night was silent. Only the rustling of the surrounding foliage rent the air. “I was a coward,” I whispered again, loss, sorrow, and guilt weighting me down like lead.

  He made soothing noises. “Now, now, that’s in the past. We’re here now, together, and we can put it behind us. We need to talk somewhere a little more comfortable, catch up. What do you say?”

  The smile on his face was wide and to anyone else it would have been beneficent, but all I could see was the monster behind it. A monster who thought we’d be together even after he’d abused me and taken away my family. Could he not hear how much I despised him in my voice? The man was a sociopath.

  "Who else have you corrupted?” I got out. “Is there anyone else out there who you’ve dirtied with your filthy hands and paedophilic appetite?” At least I might redeem myself by helping someone else, albeit a little late.

  His hands clasped together in front of him as if in prayer. “Children are the essence of God, and I work for Him. Yes, there have been many, but not like you, my sweet, beautiful Christopher. You’re the only one I ever wanted. The others were all wanting, so I never kept them long.”

  I’d known the answer yet still it struck deep to hear it. There had been others he’d abused like me, and for that I could never forgive myself. My cilice was my judgment. Pain was the answer to forgetting my guilt.

  “There’s Leo.” Littlejohn’s musing interrupted my self-flagellation. “I’ve had him since you left, such a good boy and so willing. He was fun at first, but now he’s too old, and he’s become tiresome. Now he’s an adult, his needs have become rather…different. I keep him around because he’s such a devotee. It’s a balm to my soul to have such an adoring audience. However—” His eyes glittered. “If you come back with me, I will get rid of him. I have no need of him when I have you.”

  The bushes rustled yet again, and a man stepped out. It had been twenty-four years but I still recognised Leo Danbury, the fifteen-year-old boy who’d sung with me in choir and had idolised Father Price Littlejohn.

  Leo was still slim and tall, with a shock of dark brown hair, curling down to his shoulders. It was an incongruous look on a man who would have been in his late thirties now. Dressed in pale blue jeans and a sweatshirt, with both hands tucked into the front pocket, he looked—fragile—and stared at Littlejohn as if he’d just kicked a box of puppies to death.

  This was unexpected, and I hoped Mayhew knew there was someone else here. Someone else who was innocent and corrupted.

  “Leo? What on earth are you doing here, did you follow me?” Littlejohn’s face twisted into annoyance.

  Leo didn’t speak. I held my breath, wondering whether I should say something.

  Leo nodded. “I heard you talking to yourself in the vestry. You seemed so happy about meeting this Christopher, I wanted to see him for myself.”

  He looked over at me. “He’s exquisite,” he breathed. “I can see why you love him.” There was an almost childlike pout to his lips.

  I shifted. “Leo, you shouldn’t be here.” I couldn’t resist a glance over to the police hideout. “Perhaps you should go home.” I wondered how long he’d been hiding away in the darkness.

  Leo shook his head and ignored me. “Father, did you mean what you said just now? About getting rid of me?”

  He moved toward Littlejohn, who stepped forward to meet him. I felt an inkling of unease at Leo’s expression. Sad, yet resolute; it looked like he’d made a decision he didn’t care for but had to follow.

  Littlejohn waved an impatient hand. “This is no time for that conversation. Go home like Christopher says, and we’ll talk later.” He turned to me. “Have you decided yet, my boy? Are you coming home with us?”

  “Father, please.” Leo’s eyes glistened. The man was close to tears, and I didn’t even want to think of the circumstances that had driven him to such a reaction for a man who wasn’t worth it.

  “Boy, stop your inane snivelling and get out of my sight. I’m trying to talk to Christopher here. I have no need of you.” Littlejohn dismissed the man looking grief stricken in front of him with a shove of his hand.

  I had to interject. I moved forward to stand with Leo, who looked at me in surprise.

  “Don’t bully him,” I growled. “You’ve led him down the garden path with your lies, driven him to this point.” I looked at Leo. “How much did you hear?”

  “Everything.” I strained to hear Leo’s voice but stepped back in astonishment at his reply.

  “All of it? And yet you still want to be with him? Leo, the man is a monster. You can’t live with him after what you’ve heard tonight?”

  Again, he ignored me. I thought perhaps I was invisible.

  “Fath
er.” Leo’s voice was firm but there was a quaver in it. “Please tell me you still love me. That we’ll still be a family. I’ve done everything you ever wanted. I’ve followed your commands, to please the Lord. You told me we’d always be together. That you were following a higher purpose.”

  The pleading in his voice undid me. It was obvious he’d been conditioned, brainwashed even, and my part in that meant another twist of the cilice upon my thigh.

  Littlejohn flung himself around to face a startled Leo. Spittle flew from his lips as he spat out his words. “I do follow a higher purpose, you stupid boy. I answer to God and no one else. No one shall judge me for my earthly deeds, only He shall. And yes, should Christopher elect to come with me, I will have no need of you. You were always my second choice, even the third. He,” he waved at me, “he is the one I’ve always wanted. I’ll forsake all other children for him; even grown up, I still desire him. Now I’ve found him again, no one will take him away from me.” He laughed harshly. "You were nothing but a pathetic carbon copy in his image.”

  Leo’s stricken face at that moment would haunt my dreams forever, along with everything else. He nodded sadly, and as he muttered something under his breath, he moved forward, one hand leaving his pocket. There was the flash of something bright, and then the world went to hell.

  Littlejohn clutched his throat as blood gurgled out, and even as I realised what had happened, Mayhew and his men were rushing out of the bushes, shouting at Leo to drop the knife and get down on the ground.

  The other shock was seeing Rhys at Mayhew’s side, as he rushed over to me, his face panic stricken.

  “Rhys?” I whispered, wondering whether I’d gone insane. I hoped it was a mirage because this wasn’t the way I’d wanted to tell him about my past.

  “It’s me, baby. I’m real. God, look at you, you’re shaking. Here, take my jacket.” A warm sheepskin fleece was wrapped about my shoulders. Rhys led me away from the carnage behind me, over into a sheltered space.

  The last thing I saw as I was taken to a waiting police car was Leo being escorted away by two policemen. He went quietly; the look of resignation on his face sent an ache into my chest.

  “Rhys, he’s damaged,” I mumbled as he bundled me into a warm car. I shivered violently, wanting to pass out. “Leo wasn’t responsible for that atrocity he committed. Littlejohn was. Please make sure Inspector Mayhew knows. Littlejohn deserved what he got.”

  Rhys got into the car and pulled me into his strength and his solidity. His eyes shone with tears as he kissed me on the forehead. “I think he knows there’s extenuating circumstances, babe. But he needs to follow due process, and a man has died. We can’t escape that.” He clutched me tighter. “God, Cary.” His voice cracked. “What you went through. It’s far worse than I even imagined. My sweet, beautiful, strong man.”

  I shook my head, eyes closing against their will. All life was sapped out of me and all I wanted was to sleep here in Rhys’s arms and never wake up. “Not beautiful, Rhys. A monster like him. I could have stopped him long ago, and I didn’t. It’s my fault Leo was like he was.”

  “Never,” Rhys said fiercely as he hugged me so tight I couldn't breathe. “Inspector Matthew and I had a long chat after he arrested me for loitering in a police investigation. Believe me, you’re no monster and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

  I wanted to believe him, but I was too tired to argue. My eyes snapped open as part of his conversation resonated. “Wait. You got arrested?”

  The last sound I heard before slipping into darkness was Rhys’s soft but sad chuckle and then there was nothing.

  Chapter 21

  Cary

  I opened my eyes to find a pair of green ones peering at me. The face they belonged to was pale, but the smile was earth shattering.

  “Welcome back.” Rhys grinned as he brushed his hair back from his face. It had grown longer since I’d last seen him. I liked it. I also liked the shorter beard. It did things to my insides I hadn’t felt in a while. Like since Rhys had left. Or rather, I’d pushed him away.

  I sat up. “Where are we?” I squinted at our surroundings. “Bloody hell, is this a damn jail cell?” It was a cell, and I lay on a bunk with a blanket draped over me with Rhys’s jacket on top. I stared blearily at my watch. It was almost midnight.

  “You were out of it, and I didn’t want to wake you. I carried you in here and put you in jail.” He chuckled and waved toward the outside of the cell. “The police were doing their thing out there, wanted my statement about how much I knew about the situation,” he scowled, “which was nothing, and I wanted to see what was happening.” He winked at me. “You know I’m a nosy parker. And I wouldn’t let them wake you up for your statement, I told them they could bloody wait.” He wrinkled his nose in a way I found adorable. “Plus, you know, I got arrested…”

  I was wide awake now. “I remember that. How did that happen?” I sat up and ran a hand through my hair, wincing as I did. It felt greasy.

  Rhys chuckled as he shifted on the bunk to get comfortable. “I came down to see you earlier than you planned. I wanted to surprise you. I couldn’t find you so after a delightful drink or two with Julien I went looking for you. And there you were. With that monster.”

  His voice sobered. “I didn’t know I’d wandered into your sting operation—which I’m mad at you for doing without me—and before I could come over to you, someone yanked me behind a tree and threatened me with arrest if I didn’t cooperate.” He went quiet. I was trying to process the fact he’d heard everything about my past, and that he was still around.

  “You were there right from the start?” Dread climbed into my soul and settled there. “You heard it all?”

  He nodded. “Yes.” He hesitated. “Although I confess, I did some digging while I was away and found a few articles about a boy who disappeared all those years ago in Kingston, and the family that was killed. I’d hoped it wasn’t you but,” he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, “I found out it was a few hours ago. Seeing you face him down, I thought my heart was going to stop.”

  “Oh.” I fisted the cover, trying to stop my hands from shaking. The exposure of my soul couldn’t have been a pretty sight.

  “Then all the drama happened and Leo…” Rhys voice trailed off, “did what he did. It’s true what they say in the movies. It all happened so fast.” He reached out and took my frozen hands in his, staying their nervous action. “Cary, you were a victim, not a monster. I see that look in your eyes, what you’ve been punishing yourself for all these years. Jesus, babe, I can’t even imagine how you got this far without being a complete nutcase.”

  My lips were numb when I replied. “I didn’t know until a few months ago that Littlejohn was still alive. He had a twin brother who died, and I thought it was him. I was only eleven years old, and I…” I swallowed, “I tried to forget it. It wouldn’t have brought my family back and I would have ended up in care somewhere and I loved the circus. Greta, the people…”

  Rhys placed a warm finger on my lips. “It’s okay. I understand. Christ, you were only a kid. No child should have to shoulder that secret.”

  “When I found out he was still alive, I went to pieces for a while. I tried to convince myself I would do something about it, soon. Then you arrived and threw me off kilter.”

  Rhys’s eyes were compassionate as they bored into mine. “Was it something Marco said in that letter that drove you to tonight?”

  I nodded. “He told me to resolve my demons, put them to rest, and find closure. To live.” I took a shuddering breath. “And I did. But I doubt I would have done it if I hadn’t gotten something to live for that I didn’t realise I was missing.” I gave a short laugh. “Or rather, that I ignored.”

  Rhys looked down at our linked hands. “I understand. You have a family here, people you care about, even though you try not to—”

  I gripped his fingers tighter. “I wasn’t talking about them.”

  He looked
at me, hope and a smile creasing his face like the folds of a swathe of soft silk. “Oh.” It came out on a sigh. Then, “I called Greta, told her we were fine, and we’d explain everything tomorrow. She was worried about you.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  We were silent as we looked at each other, intensity radiating between us, then a loud cough from outside made us both dart glances towards the open—gate? Inspector Mayhew stood there, one eyebrow raised as he nursed a steaming mug of coffee. “Good to see you awake, Christopher. I—”

  “Cary,” I mumbled. “My name is Cary.”

  Christopher was gone for good now, laid to rest, but not forgotten. I knew it would take time to deal with the emotional aftermath of what had happened earlier, but I had hope now.

  He inclined his head. “Cary it is. Well, your boyfriend here wouldn’t let us wake you up to talk to you, and you know what? It’s late now, and we can do that tomorrow. I’d suggest the two of you go home and get to sleep. It’s been a rough night.”

  Rhys’s face lit up at the word “boyfriend” and I tried not to let it register. There was time enough for sorting that situation out later.

  I struggled to my feet, wincing as my muscles protested. “Is he dead? How is Leo?”

  Mayhew’s face clouded. “Father Littlejohn is dead. He didn’t stand a chance. Leo is in custody. I’ve got him on suicide watch.” He pre-empted the question I was about to ask. I’d been there. I knew how it felt to be damned. “Tomorrow someone from the local office is sending out a psychiatrist to evaluate him. What they say will depend on what happens to him from there.” He frowned. “I can say Mr Danby doesn’t appear to be of sound mind. He’s not spoken a word since he was arrested, and we had to struggle to get his bloody clothes off him because he wanted to wear them. Something about staying close to Father Price.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “He’s a challenging situation to be sure. Murders are usually clean-cut in this neck of the woods, but this one has me feeling sorry for the man.”