by Carys Jones
“How can you be so sure?”
“They came here with the sole purpose of killing you. I know a killer when I see one.” Buck raised his face to look directly in to Aiden’s eyes.
“What if someone sees us?” Aiden looked beyond the old sheriff towards his front door. Even though the hour was late, they still risked someone peeking through their curtains and witnessing the macabre scene which was unfolding at Aiden’s home.
“Let them see,” Buck continued pulling the hefty weight of the dead body towards the door. A streak of blood was drawn out behind the corpse like a gothic veil, the crimson color blackening as it dried and soaked deeper in to the carpet.
“You’d better ask her to scrub that up as best she can. And think about getting new carpets.”
Buck had reached the front door. He stood up and exhaled deeply, shaking his aching arms.
“You can’t just take them out the front door!” Aiden insisted fearfully.
“Connelly, relax. What if someone sees? Who are they going to call, the sheriff?” he asked mockingly.
“I don’t like it,” Aiden shook his head. He knew he should call someone. Perhaps the sheriff’s deputy or at the very least the coroner.
“What’s to like?” Buck threw open the front door and rain began splashing in, bringing with it a sharp breeze. The thunder boomed distantly as the storm began to leave.
“Go put some clothes on.” Buck shot Aiden a disdainful look. He was still wearing the sweatpants in which he often slept. Aiden was suddenly grateful that the night had been cool enough to warrant keeping them on else he could have been standing there in just his boxer shorts.
“And grab a shovel,” Buck added.
Aiden nodded, but his body refused to comply, his feet remaining rooted to the spot.
“You stepped up,” Buck told him, some of the briskness leaving his voice. “You protected your home, your girl. Don’t pussy out on me now.”
*
“Oh, Aid!” Brandy flung herself around Aiden when he walked into the bedroom. She wanted to just stay there until she could convince herself that everything that happened had just been a bad dream but he quickly pried her off his bare chest, cupping her face with his hands.
“I have to go and help the sheriff,” he told her apologetically.
“No.” Brandy shook her head violently. “You can’t leave me here alone.”
“I won’t be gone long.”
“No.” Brandy couldn’t stop thinking about how the first man had eased out of the shadows when she’d entered the kitchen. He’d struck her face so hard he knocked the air right out of her, making her teeth shake. Then he pressed the barrel of the gun against her head and not for the first time in her short life, Brandy truly believed that she was about to die.
Hanging on the precipice of death was exhausting. Despite her continued fear, Brandy could feel her body starting to wilt, the initial shock wearing off.
“Tell him you’re fine,” the man had hissed into Brandy’s ear when Aiden shouted down to her. His breath was warm and smelled strongly of tobacco. He kept an iron grip on her shoulder as he dragged her into the hallway and made her stand beside her beloved piano.
“One wrong move,” he told her, “and your brains become wallpaper. Got it?”
Brandy could only nod and pray that Aiden understood her veiled warning when she’d insisted that the storm wasn’t scaring her. He had. But as he descended the staircase, pistol in hand, Brandy felt her heart squeeze in her chest. She feared that she’d just lured the man she loved to his death.
“I’m sorry, but I have to do this,” Aiden released Brandy face and began hurriedly pulling on a T-shirt.
“Aid…” Brandy wiped at her eyes, glad to find that her hands were no longer trembling.
“I’ll be back soon.” Aiden returned to her and gripped her shoulders. But his touch was gentle, supportive. Even so, she flinched as she recalled the rougher touch of the man who now lay motionless downstairs.
“I have to do this,” Aiden told her, looking deep into her eyes. “I have to keep us safe.”
Brandy nodded tearfully.
Aiden hurried back towards the bedroom door and then paused.
“Look, if you can, there’s some…blood…on the carpets. If it won’t come out I’ll buy new carpets, it’s okay.” Aiden hung his head, shamed by the request.
“Not a problem,” Brandy continued to wipe at her eyes. “I’ve dealt with a blood stain before.”
Her comment made Aiden’s head fall closer to his chest.
“Connelly!” Buck’s shouted shrilly up the stairs.
“I’ve got to go.” Aiden stepped back towards Brandy to plant a farewell kiss upon her lips.
She watched him leave and drew her legs up to her chest. She was still wearing the gunman’s blood, the stench of death still hung heavily in the air.
*
They drove in silence. Countless times Aiden asked himself what the hell he was doing. He was driving out beyond Avalon’s borders, at two in the morning, with a trunk-load of corpses. Beside him, Buck firmly gripped the wheel, his lips occasionally twitching as though he were dealing with his own inner doubts.
Buck followed the main road out of Avalon and about ten miles out took a sharp turn down a dirt lane. The patrol car bounced over the uneven route as the headlights struggled against the overwhelming darkness of the night, the moon still held back beneath a curtain of cloud.
Eventually Buck stopped the car but left the headlights on. He got out, moved around the trunk and pulled out the first of two shovels which he tossed towards Aiden.
“Dig deep,” the old sheriff instructed. “The ground is still wet which should make things easier.”
Beneath the glow of the headlights, Aiden dug a hole as deep as he could. The damp dirt shifted easily at first but as he got deeper the digging became more hard going. By the time he could stand in the hole he was soaked in his own sweat. Clambering out, he saw that Buck had surprisingly reached a similar depth, his uniform now soaked in sweat rather than rain water.
Above them the sky was softening as a new day crept closer.
“This will do,” Buck looked down at his own hole in satisfaction. Aiden helped the old man out and for a moment they just stood and looked at the two fresh graves they had just dug. Then, wordlessly, they went back to the trunk, half carried, half dragged out each body and rolled them into the holes.
“Shouldn’t we at least cover them in something?” Aiden asked as he turned his back on the body which now lay crumpled at the base of his own hole.
“No,” Buck shook his head and commenced shoveling dirt down in to the grave he’d just dug.
“You want nature to be able to get to them. In a few weeks the creepy crawlies will have done their job and they’ll be chewed up beyond recognition.”
Aiden grimaced at the thought.
“Come on.” Buck ceased shoveling dirt to scowl at the younger man. “We need to be all done here before sun up.”
Aiden took a single deep breath to steel himself and then he started tossing dirt back down in to the hole. Soon the body was completely hidden.
After almost an hour Aiden was able to level out the top of the unmarked grave. It was now light enough that he didn’t need the beam from the headlights to see. His body finally gave way to the horror of the previous evening. He turned back towards the car, resting his hands upon the bonnet and threw up repeatedly.
“Best to get it out,” Buck declared dryly, patting down the top of his own hastily made grave. He came and stood beside Aiden as behind them the sun began to slowly rise, the storm clouds having finally moved on.
“In Avalon, we bury our secrets.” He gave Aiden a single flat-handed pat on the back.
Aiden wiped at his mouth and turned to face the sheriff who looked wearied after his eventful night. Dark shadows had gathered beneath his eyes making his gaze seemed hooded and dangerous.
“And when we bury our secre
ts.” Buck’s eyes narrowed, then hardened. “They stay buried. Do you understand?”
Aiden nodded, his entire body aching as he fought against exhaustion. He remembered how he’d felt when he’d seen the gunman holding Brandy, callously taunting Aiden with his ability to end her life. He would do anything to protect her.
“Yes,” he said sincerely to Buck. “I understand.”
Chapter Seven
A Blackened Soul
Brandy rubbed against the fabric of the carpet until her hands bled. Her knees were soaked as she knelt on the damp ground, furiously scrubbing against the dark stain which carved a sinister path out to the front door.
Tears intermittently blurred her vision as her shoulders trembled but she bit down on her lip and scrubbed even harder. While she was cleaning she wasn’t thinking about what had happened, wasn’t remembered the feeling of fear which had held her in a vise as she felt the cool of the gun barrel against her temple.
The room smelled of bleach and sweat. Brandy paused briefly to swipe a hand across her brow where beads of sweat had begun to gather. Then, sighing heavily, she returned to cleaning. But no matter how desperately she scrubbed the carpet, the stain refused to go. It remained there like a stubborn shadow, a permanent reminder of what had occurred in the house that previous night.
Defeated, Brandy flung the cloth she’d been using into the nearby bucket of soapy water and leaned back against the wall. The sun was shining in through the patio doors and Aiden had still not returned. Normally Brandy would welcome the return of the clear blue sky, but she found herself missing the bleakness of the storm. The storm suited her mood. There was no sunshine in her soul that morning as she carried on trying to wash away the blood from the carpet.
*
Aiden wasn’t sure if it was exhaustion or shock which held his tongue but he didn’t utter a single word on the drive back to Avalon. He felt like a zombie as he sat there watching the world speed by beyond the car windows.
Finally he was home. Buck gave him a curt nod and then drove off. Aiden stood on the edge of his driveway and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. Nervously he looked at the nearby houses, expecting people to be gathered fearfully at their windows pointing fingers at him and whispering the word ‘killer’. But the neighborhood appeared as it always did each morning. Cars had vacated driveways as people headed in to work and the local paperboy was already cycling down the street, carelessly slinging the daily paper onto various porches.
Aiden was relieved that he wouldn’t be making the headlines that morning. Buck was right about keeping the killings a secret. The last thing Aiden wanted to do was evoke the anger of whoever had sent them up to Avalon.
As he approached the front door, he flinched as he remembered seeing the noose swinging from the gutter. He jumped as the door suddenly opened before he’d even had chance to place his hand on the handle.
“You’re home.” Brandy was standing in the doorway, her hair freshly washed and damp as it hung down her back.
“Yeah,” Aiden forced himself to smile as he walked in. He’d expected to feel some relief to be home but instead he felt like a stranger. He stiffened as he looked over at the piano, at the very spot where Brandy had been held at gun point. Blinking back tears, he reached for her but she was silently drifted into the kitchen. Numbly, Aiden walked in and found her sat on the countertop. Her golden hair glittered in the morning sunlight and her eyes appeared darker than usual.
“Brandy, are you okay?” he asked tentatively, knowing it was a stupid question. Of course she wasn’t okay. He doubted if either of them would ever feel okay again.
“I can still hear it,” Brandy said quietly. “The crack of the gun shot and then…” She raised her delicate hand to her cheek, to the place where the dead man’s blood had rained down upon her.
“Baby, look—”
“I showered.” Brandy lifted her chin and clenched her jaw. Aiden ceased advancing towards her when he registered the hard look in her eyes. It was an expression he’d rarely ever seen on her angelic face.
“I washed off the blood but I can still feel it clinging to me. I scrubbed the floors.” Brandy absently looked down at her palms which were red and cracked. “But the stain wouldn’t go. You’ll need new carpets.”
“Brandy, sweetheart…”
Aiden took a step towards her and she swiftly raised a hand to him.
“Those men came here because you went to Mexico, didn’t they?”
“Yes,” Aiden admitted shamefully, his shoulders sinking.
“You were so desperate for answers.” Brandy’s eyes sparkled as they filled with tears. “This was supposed to be our time, Aiden. Our chance to be together.”
“And it is!” Aiden quickly insisted.
“Last night I watched you shoot and kill a man.” Brandy blinked and several tears broke free, slowly falling down her pale cheek.
“I never thought you were…a killer.” She choked out the last word.
Aiden gathered his hands together and nervously cracked his knuckles.
“You’re supposed to be a good guy!” Brandy told him, her lips trembling.
“And I am!” This time Aiden strode all the way over to her. He placed his hands upon her legs and looked up into her watery eyes.
“I killed a guy, yes. But I did it to protect you. And I’d do it again in a second!” He added without hesitation. And he knew it was true. When Brandy’s life had been in peril, something innate within him had taken over. His fingers still trembled from having taken another life but he didn’t regret what he had done. He regretted luring the men to his home by digging round in San Migeno for answers about Justin’s death, but he didn’t regret shooting the intruders. He didn’t regret keeping Brandy safe.
“I love you, Brandy.” He squeezed her legs as he spoke. “I would do anything to keep you safe. Even if that means becoming a killer.”
Brandy loosely wiped away some of her tears.
“I don’t want to be scared here,” she admitted.
“And you won’t be. Those men are gone, Brandy. No one will even know they were ever here.”
Brandy lowered her head and pressed it against Aiden’s. They stayed like that for a while.
“Can you trust Sheriff Fern?” Brandy whispered, disturbing the silence between them.
Aiden stiffened. He hoped he could trust Buck Fern, but his history with the old man told him to be wary.
“I hope so.” Aiden lifted a hand from Brandy’s leg to tenderly stroke her cheek.
“I don’t understand why he helped you,” Brandy admitted. “He hates you and loathes me. Surely he’d want us dead.”
Aiden nodded. The thought had crossed his mind on more than one occasion. But the reality was that Buck was currently helping him and Aiden wasn’t in a position to turn away a potential ally.
“Why don’t we go to bed and try and get some sleep,” he suggested gently. Brandy allowed him to help her down from the counter. She hugged her arms around herself and shuddered despite the warmth of the sunlight streaming in through the window.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever sleep again.” She looked down at the tiled floor. “I close my eyes and see him there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for me.”
Aiden placed an arm around Brandy and drew her towards his chest. He hated himself for having allowed yet more evil to enter her life. She’d already seen so much death, so much wickedness and now he had given her yet another demon to haunt her dreams.
“I’m sorry,” he told her as he kissed her golden hair.
“I know,” Brandy whispered, hugging him tightly. “You were just trying to do right by your friend.”
Aiden breathed in her vanilla scent and felt his eyes start to mist.
“I try and do the right thing,” he agreed, “but it always ends up with everything in such a mess.”
Brandy tightened her grip on him.
“It could be worse,” she declared, her voice slightly muffled agai
nst his chest.
“It could?”
“Yeah.” Brandy leaned back slightly to look at him directly. “If you’d not fired those shots we’d probably both be dead right now.”
Aiden felt his heart crack in his chest as he considered the possibility.
“But you’re safe.” He leaned down and kissed Brandy’s soft lips. “I kept you safe,” he whispered tearfully to her.
*
Brandy was surprised to find that when she went to bed the next night her body ached in anticipation of rest. She lay her head on the pillow and curled up against Aiden, certain that sleep would never find her, but her eyelids were already drooping. Somehow the nightmares of the previous night were feeling more distant with each passing hour.
In the darkness of the bedroom, Brandy wondered how that was even possible. She’d witnessed two men shot dead and come dangerously close to her own demise. Yet here she was, the following night, drifting on the precipice of sleep.
“Somehow you don’t let the darkness in” her Aunt Carol had remarked one morning when Brandy turned up bright-eyed at work, eager to start another shift at Chez Vous, the salon her aunt owned in Chicago.
“What do you mean?” Brandy had asked.
“Well.” Carol had leaned forward, resting her hand beneath her chin, her eyes widening with admiration. “All the terrible things you’ve seen, like all the shit your ma did back in Avalon with God knows who in that trailer of hers. Then you saw your husband stabbed to death in cold blood and had a stint in a high-security prison paying the price for something you didn’t do. Most people would break against such odds, Brandy. They’d become as dark as the life they’d led but you, you’re still a ray of sunshine to those around you. Like I said, somehow you don’t let the darkness in. I don’t know how you do it, but, child, color me impressed.”
Brandy had blushed and mumbled something about how she just kept going as the only other choice was to stop and dwell on things and stopping wasn’t any good for anybody.
