Fourth to Run

by Carys Jones

  But in the stillness of the bedroom Brandy began to wonder just how much darkness she was able to absorb. What if she had a limit to what she could overcome and once she crossed that she’d start to let the darkness in and lose some of her light?

  She was still pondering on this thought when sleep loosened her limbs and slowed her heart rate, allowing her to drift off to a kinder, gentler world.

  Brandy was sleeping peacefully when Aiden jolted awake several hours later, sweat streaking down his back. His eyes were wide in the darkness and his body trembled. He reached out for her and stroked her river of blonde hair which cascaded down the bed beside him.

  “Are you sleeping?” he asked her gently, his voice hoarse. Brandy murmured in her sleep and drew her legs up to her chest and continued to dream.

  *

  “Good morning, Aiden,” Betty greeted him brightly as he stepped out from his car and squinted against the bright morning sunlight.

  “Lovely day, isn’t it?” Betty continued as she stood waiting patiently by the entrance to the offices of Copes and May, her hands neatly clasped over her purse.

  Aiden nodded in agreement. It was indeed a lovely day. The sun was already shining brightly and the streets were now completely dry, the rain which had previously drenched them now nothing more than a memory.

  But Aiden struggled to feel the warmth of the sun. He felt like he was still existing beneath storm clouds.

  “Are you feeling better?” Betty inquired politely as Aiden fumbled with his keys and unlocked the door. He’d called in sick the previous day. He was too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to face a day at work.

  “You look tired,” Betty drew her eyebrows together in concern as she scrutinized his face.

  Aiden self-consciously rubbed at the dark circles gathering beneath his eyes. His day’s sick leave had done little to ease his frayed nerves and mounting fatigue. Each time he dared to try and sleep, he heard gun shots rattling through the house. He’d wake up trembling, the nightmares he’d been lost in clawing their way in to his conscious thoughts making him feel certain that the spluttering, bloodied body of the second gunman was lurking in the shadows, waiting to reveal jump out and seek vengeance.

  “I’m just not sleeping well,” he admitted with a sigh. Betty pulled her lips into a thin line and nodded. With the door unlocked, she headed over to her desk, her brisk steps echoing around the waiting area.

  “You should try some camomile tea,” Betty suggested as she turned on her computer and straightened her glasses. “Or some lavender essence sprayed around the room. I always found them most beneficial whenever I couldn’t sleep.”

  Aiden nodded gratefully, unsure if herbal tea or scented air was the solution to unburdening him of the guilt which pressed so heavily against his chest that he sometimes struggled to breathe. He was a killer. The thought burned brightly in his mind, alarming and painful.

  As he sat down at his desk, Aiden hoped he’d have some emails to work through which would provide some respite from his dark, guilt-ridden thoughts. He was about to open his inbox when he realized he’d forgotten his morning coffee and Betty’s tea. Cursing under his breath he stood back up and shrugged his jacket back on.

  “Sorry, Betty,” Aiden called to her as he hurried past her desk. “I’ll be right back.”

  *

  Isla felt harassed. She turned the bacon in the pan and then turned her attention back to Meegan who was shoving her little hands into her bowl of cereal, plucking out various wheat-filled shapes and throwing them across the kitchen.

  “Stop that!” Isla scolded, using the back of her hand to knock a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

  Meegan giggled mischievously as she picked up new ammunition from her bowl.

  “Meegan, if you don’t eat your cereal you don’t get a piece of bacon.”

  The little girl couldn’t pull her hands from the bowl quick enough. Sheepishly she picked up her plastic pink spoon and began to eat her breakfast.

  “Good girl,” Isla said approvingly, sighing and glancing back at the bacon which was almost done. She was about to remove it from the pan when her cell phone started vibrated in her pocket. Isla reached down and checked who was calling. When she saw that it was Guy she hastily answered and wedged the phone in between her shoulder and ear as she switched off the heat under the pan and began plating the bacon.

  “Guy, hi.” Isla made sure she sounded pleased to hear from him but slightly aloof. It was, after all, over twelve hours since their date concluded. She didn’t want to come across as too eager, especially when he was obviously playing it cool.

  “Morning, Isla,” his strong voice greeted her. “I just wondered what you were doing tomorrow night. I managed to score some tickets to a show and thought you might want to join me.”

  Isla gripped the kitchen counter and bounced on the spot. A show? She’d always wanted to go to a show but Aiden preferred the movies to theatre. Going to a show carried an air of sophistication which Isla felt suited her perfectly.

  “I know it’s short notice to arrange a sitter but…”

  “It’s not a problem” Isla interrupted, sounding more eager than she’d intended to. “My, um, my mom is in town anyway so she can watch Meegan.”

  She flicked back some of her hair and hoped she sounded convincing. Her mother wasn’t due to be in Chicago but the lie had flown from her lips before she’d even had chance to register it. She’d need to call a sitter which was easy enough. Isla wanted to keep her mother far away from Chicago and, more importantly, far away from her relationship with Guy which was still very much in its infancy. She couldn’t risk it wilting beneath her mother’s harsh scrutiny when it was still so fragile.

  “Okay then, it’s a date,” Guy declared confidently. Isla could imagine him flashing his perfect grin as he spoke and she felt her knees loosen. She propped herself up against the counter as a nervous flush reddened her cheeks.

  “I look forward to it,” Isla gushed, briefly glancing at Meegan who was still diligently eating her cereal.

  The kitchen smelled of the toddler’s imminent reward. Aiden had always loved bacon but Isla wasn’t keen. When she put the meat in her shopping basket she thought it was for Aiden. She’d been on autopilot in the supermarket and had come back with a load of items she used to buy just for Aiden. Rather than let the bacon go to waste, Isla thought Meegan could have it. But as the meat crackled and filled the apartment with its intense aroma, Isla felt something knot in her stomach. The scent of coffee and fresh bacon reminded her so much of Aiden that she half expected him to burst through the kitchen door with a broad, expectant smile on his face. But it had been a while since she’d even heard from Aiden. Clearly, she was far from his thoughts.

  “Me too,” Guy replied coolly. “Have you heard from Aiden lately?”

  The sudden question and change in pace took Isla completely by surprised. She straightened and felt her heart start hammering in her chest. Why was Guy asking about Aiden? Did he think that she should have told him about their relationship by now?

  “Aiden?” Isla made sure she sounded casual as she said her estranged husband’s name in a questioning tone.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’ve not heard from him recently. Why?”

  There was a pregnant pause on Guy’s end of the line.

  “Nothing,” he eventually replied brightly. “I just wondered if he’d been in touch.”

  “I haven’t told him about us if that’s what you mean,” Isla admitted. “I figured it was still early days and, to be honest, it’s a conversation I’d rather have with him in person and—”

  “Isla, I’ve got to go,” Guy interrupted, suddenly sounding serious and a little irritated. Isla hoped that the latter was just in her mind.

  “Oh, okay.”

  The call ended before she could say anything else. Bemused, Isla looked at her cell phone. It wasn’t like Guy to end a call so abruptly. But then he was presumably at work, perhap
s something urgent had come up.

  “Bacon!” Meegan nudged her now-empty bowl aside and looked over greedily at the plate of fresh bacon.

  “Here.” Isla placed the plate on Meegan’s highchair’s table. The little girl examined the grease-laden streaks with wide, wondrous eyes.

  “You ate your cereal like a good girl,” Isla commended her. Meegan wasn’t listening, she’d picked up her first piece of bacon and was happily shoving it into her mouth, using the few teeth she had to chew it.

  Looking again at her cell phone, Isla wondered what had caused Guy’s change in mood if it wasn’t work related. Was he mad that she’d not yet told Aiden about them dating? As Isla pondered on the conversation, she scrolled through her contacts and once more lingered over Aiden’s details. She knew that she should have let him know the moment she started dating Guy Chambers. He was, after all, Aiden’s old college friend. But Isla feared risking tainting the fragile friendship she and her husband had entered into. If he knew she was dating Guy, would that create bad blood between them? Would Aiden hate her?

  “Mmm,” Meegan cooed happily as she ate another piece of bacon.

  “Maybe we should call Daddy soon?” Isla suggested to her, blinking back nervous tears.

  “Daddy!” The little girl dropped the piece of bacon she was holding as her whole face lit up with excitement.

  “Daddy!” she declared again, raising her arms to instruct Isla to lift her out of her highchair. Isla obliged and, once released, Meegan toddled over to find her latest foam finger, the rest of her bacon now ignored as she’d found something she loved even more than the applewood smoked meat which required her immediate attention.

  *

  The day dragged with each minute slipping by like an hour. Aiden groaned and opened yet another email. He lazily glanced over it, expecting to see yet another message about a trivial affair but what he saw sucked the air out of his lungs.

  Shocked, Aiden peered in disbelief at his computer monitor. On the screen in garish red letters was the word ‘murderer’.

  Panicked, Aiden pushed away from his desk and rubbed at his eyes, his mind already wondering who the hell would send him such a message. Was it Buck trying to mess with him? Surely not. If Aiden was a murderer then so was the sheriff.

  But when Aiden looked back at the screen all that was there was a genial message from a Mr Wallace who needed some advice about a dispute over some unpaid invoices since he was self-employed. Aiden blinked repeatedly, wondering where the harsh red text had gone. Then, as more minutes passed by, he wondered if it had ever been there at all.

  “Dammit.” Aiden pressed the heel of his head against his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. He was clearly going mad. When he lowered his hand he noticed that it was trembling slightly, still reacting to the shot he had fired. Aiden clasped it tightly with his other hand and willed it to stay still.

  He was starting to unravel. Aiden loosened his tie and tried to calm himself. He’d taken another man’s life, it was natural to expect some sort of repercussions. Only a monster could take a life and not dwell on it.

  Aiden considered calling Buck but he doubted the sheriff would understand or even want to discuss his feelings. He was the kind of man who viewed all feelings as a sign of weakness.

  No, Aiden needed to talk to someone who would truly understand the burden which now rested on his shoulders. Someone who would feel true regret over killing. Someone who cared about the sanctity of their soul.

  Aiden was running an Internet search before his mind had even caught up with what he was doing. Father Simon West was the man who had killed Brandon White, stabbing Avalon’s former golden boy to death whilst defending Brandy from her violent husband. The priest was now residing in Stockton Maximum Security Prison according to a quick Internet search. He’d moved location a few times since his initial incarceration, which struck Aiden as strange.

  He hastily wrote down the prison’s address. It was about a four-hour drive from Avalon which would take him away from the office for an entire day. Aiden looked down at the scrawled address and wondered if he should go. He blinked at the screen where he’d previously imagined a malicious message and grabbed his office phone with sudden certainty.

  He made an appointment to visit Father West the following afternoon.

  *

  As Aiden passed through the second set of security gates outside Stockton Maximum Security Prison, his nerves kicked in. He’d not seen Father West since the fateful day when, at the eleventh hour, the priest had admitted to killing Brandon White, thus saving Brandy’s life. Aiden felt a confusing mixture of contempt and gratitude towards the older man. He had saved Brandy, but his reluctance to own up to his crime had meant that she had almost been executed.

  Aiden spread his arms and patiently waited for the guards to pat him down. He’d been prepared for the level of scrutiny he’d be subjected to before being allowed to face Father West. Stockton was a notoriously tough prison, Aiden was surprised that the priest had even been sent there. He was cell mates with some extremely sinister characters; rapists and sociopathic murderers whose crimes made Father West’s seem almost trivial.

  “Okay.” The tallest guard gave Aiden a stiff nod of approval and gestured for him to proceed into the prison.

  Memories of Aiden’s visits to Eastham Ladies Penitentiary came flooding back. He remembered the oppressive grey of the walls and the endless corridors. But his most vivid memory was of the first time he’d seen Brandy, how she’d shone out among the bleakness of the prison like a beacon of hope.

  The walls at Stockton were an off-white which made the cream of the tiled floors seem almost yellow. Aiden dutifully followed a pair of guards who led him to the holding cell where Father West was waiting for him. Aiden felt his shoulders sag slightly at this, it meant that the priest had at least agreed to him.

  The guards stopped and flanked a door numbered 375. They knocked once, a deep, dull knock on the door which sounded like it should belong to a bailiff. Then the door opened with a sharp creak and Aiden was allowed inside.

  Father Simon West was sat on a plastic chair, his shackled hands resting on the faded white table before him. His head was lowered between his shoulders but he slowly looked up as Aiden entered the room. The guards who had opened the door positioned themselves against the wall and folded their hands.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Father West asked as Aiden slid into the chair on the opposite side of the table.

  When Aiden had last seen Father West he had been wearing his dog collar, his cheeks flushed with shame. The blush of shame remained but the dog collar was gone. He was wearing a bright-orange jumpsuit which yellowed his pale skin.

  Aiden remembered how charismatic the priest had been. When he held the Sunday service in Avalon, all eyes would be on him and his doting parishioners hung on his every word. Even Isla had been quick to comment on the priest’s considerable charms.

  But the man now sitting across from Aiden had no natural magnetism. His cheeks looked hollow, the gauntness of his face created eerie shadows which made Father West look skeletal. The priest’s once-thick, styled grey hair now hung limply atop his head; unkempt and greasy. The start of a grey beard tracked its way up his jawline making his whole appearance seem wild. Father West looked like he’d been living like a vagrant rather than serving a prison sentence.

  Aiden realized that too much time had passed since he’d walked in. He’d been too surprised by the priest’s disheveled appearance to even speak.

  “I…I wanted to come and see how you were,” he offered politely as an explanation.

  Father West’s silver eyebrows shot up and he raised his cuffed wrists to scratch his cheek.

  “You wanted to see how I was?”

  Aiden nodded stiffly.

  “Well, take a good look!” Father West gestured at himself as best he could with his hands and then dropped them back upon the table with a clatter. As his handcuffs were released back down, th
e sharp sound made the priest’s jaw clench.

  “You’ve been moved around a lot,” Aiden commented, hoping to keep the conversation genial.

  “Yeah.” Father West coughed and rolled his eyes. “I’ve been moved around a hell of a lot. Everywhere I go, it seems someone is trying to end my life for me.”

  Aiden straightened in surprise, both at the priest’s turn of phrase and the revelation that his life had been endangered.

  “People have tried to kill you?”

  “Yeah,” Father West sighed. “If the courts keep delaying on passing a sentence, someone will take their choice away from them. I’ve been stabbed several times, hence all the movement.”

  Aiden had no idea. Somehow that news hadn’t made its way over to Avalon.

  “I’ve got some pretty gruesome scars,” Father West declared with a bitter smirk. “But you didn’t come here to listen to my war stories. Why exactly did you come here? Don’t feed me the line again about wanting to see how I am.”

  Aiden felt the priest’s shrewd gaze upon him and shuffled uncomfortably. He should have known that Father West would be able to see straight through him. Whilst his body was wilting within the prison, his mind clearly remained sharp.

  “I’ve been…dealing with some stuff,” Aiden began vaguely, aware that he didn’t want to say too much.

  He glanced nervously around the holding cell. There were no windows, just four off-white walls. A strip light on the ceiling illuminated the room so brightly that there were no dark corners, there was nowhere to hide. Aiden shuddered slightly, wondering if he was destined to end up in a similar room if anyone ever found the secret he’d so carefully buried with Buck during the storm.

  “Did you do it for her?” Father West asked, his tone softening so that he almost sounded like the priest he had once been.

  Aiden tried to hide how startled he was by the question.

  “Sorry, do what?”

  “Whatever made you want to come here and see me.”

  Aiden nervously wrung his hands together and raised his shoulders. “I don’t know what you mean.”