by Carys Jones
“Fine, have it your way,” Father West leaned back in his chair in a bored manner.
“Have you managed to keep your faith whilst in here?” Aiden wondered carefully, hoping to distract the priest from making any more astute observations.
“That’s between me and God,” Father West replied sourly. Then he straightened in his chair, his eyes, though dulled, still retained some of their brilliance.
“So how far did you go for her? I bet you see now how easy it is. The lengths you’d go to in order to protect her.”
“I don’t know who you are talking about,” Aiden lied unconvincingly.
“You know I’m talking about Brandy White,” Father West declared, his voice even but his gaze became glassy.
“I’d have done anything for her. And I did. Look where that got me.” He looked away from Aiden, blinking quickly.
“Did it surprise you?” Aiden clasped his hands tightly, leaning forward eagerly. “When you killed Brandon White, were you surprised you had it in you?”
Father West cleared his throat and then looked back at Aiden.
“Of course it surprised me,” he replied flatly. “I’m a man of God, or at least I was. I’m no killer. Yet I’m in here chained up like an animal.” He raised his cuffed hands to prove his point. “She’s free of that monster. Do I regret my actions? No.”
Aiden nodded thoughtfully. He wasn’t sure he regretted his actions either. If he hadn’t killed the gunman in his home they would have certainly ended both his and Brandy’s life. All Aiden had done was what was needed to keep them both safe. Then why did he continue to feel so haunted by it?
“How far did she lure you down the rabbit hole?” Father West asked, his eyes burning brightly as he looked at Aiden.
“I…” Aiden’s voice caught in his throat. He’d fallen as far as Father West had, enough to make him a killer too.
“Did you tell yourself you were protecting her, that you were doing the right thing?” Father West pressed.
Aiden shook his head, willing himself to remain calm, reminding himself that he had all the power in the conversation.
“You ever think about Brandon?” Aiden asked, a little more sharply than he’d intended.
Father West laughed lightly at the question.
“Every damn day,” he admitted with a wry smile. “But that’s the price you pay for taking a life. It is a hefty sum but a fair one.”
Aiden swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of seeing the nameless gunman every day for the rest of his life.
“Aren’t you supposed to believe in the power of forgiveness?”
Father West nodded slightly in agreement.
“I’m supposed to believe that God forgives,” he admitted. “But it’s harder to forgive yourself. Once a soul has been blackened it can never become clean again.”
Father West bit his lip and closed his eyes. Aiden was starting to wish that he had some words of comfort for the old priest, rather than hoping to find some for himself.
“I’m sorry you’re having a hard time in here,” Aiden told him sincerely.
“When I heard you were coming to visit I hoped that perhaps you were going to represent me.” Father West gave a sad smile. “But when I saw you, I knew why you were really here. You have the haunted look of a marked man. Whatever you did for her, you must learn to live with it.”
Aiden pushed his hands through his hair and wondered what about his appearance made him look haunted? He didn’t have Father West’s hollow cheeks and hooded gaze yet, apparently, he wore his mistakes just as blatantly.
“You’ve set yourself on a dark path,” Father West warned.
“How do I get off it?” Aiden was no longer looking at a prisoner in a jumpsuit but at a priest. Father West expanded his chest and lifted his chin grandly when approached for genuine advice. Even kept in a cage, his heart still answered its true calling; aiding others.
“I’m afraid you can’t,” Father West explained, his voice echoing some of its former grandeur and it wasn’t so hard to imagine him speaking to a packed congregation.
“You must follow this path to the end.”
Aiden had opened his mouth to ask another question when the door opened and one of the waiting guards stuck their head into the room.
“Time’s up,” they declared simply.
Father West shrugged apologetically at Aiden.
“Alas, we are done here,” he sighed, glancing past Aiden at the guard by the wall. Aiden stood up, wishing they had more time.
“Thank you for seeing me.” He nodded solemnly at Father West.
“Thank you for keeping her safe. Whatever it was you did, thank you.”
*
As Aiden drove back to Avalon, his mind buzzed with countless questions. He wondered why Father West was in such grave danger whilst in prison, he also wondered how the priest had so accurately known what troubled Aiden. Perhaps it was a gift he’d mastered in all his years being a confidante to the townspeople.
Aiden had been so willing to protect Brandy, just as Father West had done. He had killed for her and nothing he said or did could ever erase that. Would he end up like the priest; being eaten alive by his own demons?
Turning up the radio, Aiden tried to blast out some of his darker thoughts with music. He drummed on his steering wheel and tried to focus on the up-tempo melody. But despite the bright song blasting into his ears, Aiden kept coming back to Father West’s parting advice.
There was no denying that Aiden had set himself on a dark path. He felt like he had been on it for so long it was hard to pinpoint where it began. He just wasn’t sure he had the conviction to follow it to its end.
Leaning back in his seat, Aiden pressed down on the gas and turned the car stereo up some more. He was still several hours away from Avalon.
Chapter Eight
Friend or Foe
Aiden placed down Betty’s morning coffee and croissant and the old woman flashed him a grateful smile.
“Nice to have you back, Aiden,” she said warmly.
“It’s nice to be back,” Aiden replied earnestly. And it was nice to be back. Aiden pushed his encounter with Father West the previous day to the back of his mind. He knew that he needed to focus on the present, on honoring the promise he had made to Edmond on his death bed. Aiden could worry about whatever dark path he was on at a later date. Right now, Copes and May required his attention and he was determined to make the company as great as it deserved to be.
This renewed purpose had put a spring in his step as he walked into work. Each time a thought about Justin’s death or the gunman in his home niggled their way to the surface, Aiden promptly squashed them back down. Today was going to be a good day, he’d make certain of it.
Aiden had barely sat down at his desk when his cell phone pulsated in his trouser pocket. Retrieving it, Aiden saw that the incoming call was from his estranged wife, Isla. Anticipating that it would actually be his little daughter Meegan on the other end of the line, Aiden answered the call with a bright grin upon his face.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Aid, it’s me,” Isla promptly replied, her voice cold.
“Oh, um, hey, Isla,” Aiden shifted awkwardly in his chair and his smile promptly flattened into a hard line.
“Look, I’m sorry to call so early. Are you at work?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn!” Isla exhaled sharply on the other end of the line. “I was kind of hoping to catch you before you went in.”
Turning away from his computer screen, Aiden pressed his cell phone tightly to his ear and frowned.
“Isla, is everything okay?”
His heart instantly started to quake nervously in his chest, keeping a frantic, unsteady beat. Meegan, there must be something wrong with their daughter. The blood in his veins started to turn to ice as he waited for his wife’s response.
“Aid, we really need to talk.”
“Okay.” Aiden remained stiff and
uneasy.
“I want to be honest with you. I mean, even though we’re separated, I respect you and we need to maintain some sort of relationship for Meegan’s sake.” Isla was rambling, which was unlike her.
“Look, slow down, what do you want to talk about?”
“I’m seeing Guy.”
“You’re seeing a guy?” Aiden repeated, his heart beat easing slightly as he realized that the reason behind the call wasn’t Meegan.
“Okay, you’re seeing a guy.” He added in a brighter tone. “That’s…good.”
It was such a surreal conversation to be having that it verged on unpleasant. Aiden could feel his cheeks starting to burn. He imagined this new man with Isla, running his hands through her deep-red hair. How serious were things between them? Had the new guy met Meegan?
Jealously burned through Aiden and he lowered his head shamefully. He knew he had no right to be jealous but he was powerless against his own feelings.
“No, Aid,” Isla started correcting him and then became quiet.
“What, you’re not seeing a guy?”
“No, I mean, yes. Urgh, Jesus. This won’t be easy to hear.”
“Isla, you’re not making any sense and I really need to get back to work.” Aiden could hear the gentle ping of new messages arriving in his inbox as they spoke.
“I’m seeing Guy. Guy Chambers,” Isla suddenly blurted. Now it was Aiden’s turn to become quiet.
He turned the information over in his mind but it just didn’t seem real. Guy Chambers, his old college friend and member of the FBI, that was who Isla was seeing?
“What? My Guy Chambers? Guy who I went to college with? Guy who you once called a self-inflated arrogant pig?”
Aiden could feel the burn of his friend’s betrayal singeing his skin.
“Yeah,” Isla’s voice was small and embarrassed. “That Guy Chambers.”
“Shit.” Aiden didn’t know what else to say. Imagining Isla with some stranger afforded him some pleasant of detachment from it all but now he knew she was with Guy it made his skin creep. He thought of the two of them together, of Guy meeting Meegan.
Aiden’s free hand bunched tightly into a fist.
“How long?” he asked, not sure if he could handle his wife’s answer.
“Since I moved back to Chicago. I bumped into him at a café one morning, we got talking and, well, you know.”
Aiden did know all too well. Guy Chambers collected women like an historian collected facts. He wanted to have as many of them as possible.
Leaning back in his chair and silently groaning, Aiden recalled the time he had defended Guy Chambers in court. Guy had so callously tossed aside his pregnant ex-wife, severing all ties with her and his unborn child. He was a cold, ruthless man. It made him a brilliant FBI agent but, at times, a terrible human being. He was the last person he’d want his former wife, let alone his daughter, associating with.
“Come on, Aid, you can’t be mad. You must be seeing someone.”
Isla’s comment hung in the air between them. Strangely, he figured she’d somehow already know about him and Brandy, forgetting that she was in Chicago and local gossip didn’t travel as fluidly there as it did in Avalon.
“I’m…I’m happy for you and Guy,” Aiden declared as he awkwardly cleared his throat.
“Really?” Isla’s surprise was evident in the high pitch of her voice.
“Yes,” Aiden insisted, nodding to himself. “You deserve to be happy.”
There was so much he was choosing not to say. And he was withholding his thoughts because he hoped that if he showed Isla kindness now, she’d return the favor when she did eventually find out about Brandy.
“Thank you, Aid. That’s very big of you.”
“It’s okay. But look, I do really need to get back to work. Can you have Meegs call me later? I’d love to hear from her.”
“I’ve set up Skype on the laptop, she’s really eager to try it with you.”
“Sounds good.” Aiden was smiling again, excited at the prospect of seeing his daughter even if it was only through a computer screen.
“So, Aid, are you seeing someone? It’s okay if you are, we both need to move on.”
“I’m at work, Isla, we can talk later.”
Aiden ended the call before Isla had the chance to press him yet again. Alone in his office he positioned himself back in the center of his desk and looked suspiciously at the phone on which Guy Chambers had called him to deliver his San Migeno tip. Had Guy and Isla been together when he made the call?
The brisk tap on the door to his office made Aiden jump in his chair.
“Come in,” he said uneasily, reaching for his coffee and taking a deep drink from it.
Betty poked her head around the door, her glasses now hanging around her neck like a gaudy necklace.
“I’m so sorry to bother you but Sheriff Fern is here and he’s keen to speak with you.”
Aiden put down his coffee as his eyebrows drew together with curiosity. What did Buck Fern want with him? Aiden regretted wondering as his mind suddenly provided him a deluge of frantic, terrified responses.
What if someone had found the bodies? What if word had got out about what they’d done? Were they both in danger?
Smoothing down his tie, Aiden fought to remain composed.
“Thanks, Betty, send him in,” he coolly instructed.
*
Isla laughed nervously to herself and shoved her cell phone back into her jeans pocket.
“See.” She placed a hand on her the delicate curve of her hip and turned to face her daughter who was sat cross-legged before the television engrossed in some brightly colored children’s show.
“Mommy was brave and told Daddy the truth.” Isla dropped onto the floor beside her daughter and scooped the little girl up into her lap.
“And Daddy was very mature about it,” Isla explained, bouncing Meegan slightly which made the toddler giggle with delight.
“I thought Daddy would be mad, but he wasn’t.”
Isla’s shoulders sank with relief. She was glad that the truth was out in the open. She was sure it was what Guy wanted and would explain why he’d been a bit abrupt with her last time they’d spoken. When she went to the theatre with him later she’d be able to relay her conversation with Aiden and how he’d basically given them his blessing.
“In Strawberry Lane it never rains.” Meegan was singing along with the television show, clapping her little hands together and trying to keep in time with the music. On the screen a cartoon character decked out in a bright-pink dress was skipping down a quaint cobbled road with a wicker basket in her hand.
“Do you like Strawberry Lane?” Isla asked.
“Shhh!” Meegan pressed a finger up against her little mouth and frowned at her mother. Isla smiled and shook her head slightly, but she dutifully remained silent for the duration of the episode.
*
“I told Aiden about us this morning,” Isla gushed excitedly to Guy during the cab drive over to the theatre. “And he’s happy for us!” she added merrily.
She’d expected Guy to beam at her and announce what a relief it was to know that his old friend was happy for them but instead when he turned to her he was scowling and his eyes looked pale and distant.
“You’ve spoken to Aiden?” he asked as the color left his face. It was strange to see his usually tanned skin lose its honey glow.
“Yes, this morning.”
“This morning?” Guy’s jaw clenched and he pushed one hand through his blonde hair, messing up the style he’d carefully molded it into earlier that evening.
“Yes, I spoke to Aiden this morning. What’s the problem? I thought you wanted me to speak to him?”
“How was he?”
“He was fine!” Isla sighed dramatically. “What’s the problem?”
“He didn’t seem…troubled or anything?” Guy pressed.
“No!” Isla wasn’t enjoying feeling so deflated over news she’d thou
ght would be better received.
“He was fine.” She heavily emphasized the last word as she folded her arms across her chest and pouted.
“And he’s still in Avalon?” Guy delivered the question just as the cab pulled up outside the theatre. Isla opened the door with an angry flourish and stepped out into the brisk evening air. Her long skirt billowed about her, as did her hair.
“Jesus, Guy, yes! Aiden is still in Avalon! He’ll never leave that damn town!” Isla raised a hand to knock some of her curls out of her eyes.
“I’ll be right back.” Guy was holding his cell phone, his expression tense.
“Where are you going?” Isla demanded as he started to walk down the street, away from the theatre.
“I need to make a call!” he shouted back to her before lifting his phone to his ear and lowering his head.
Isla exhaled in annoyance and watched with envy as other couples arrived together hand in hand, their faces alight with eager anticipation. She waited several minutes and when Guy failed to return, she defiantly raised her head, pushed back her shoulders and entered the theatre alone.
As she smoothed down her dress and tidied her hair, she realized that she couldn’t go much further since Guy was the one with the tickets. All Isla could do was stand there and wait for him and hope that he wouldn’t take too long to come back to her.
*
Aiden failed to successfully wipe the concern from his face and Buck registered it with a sneer as he entered the room. The sheriff slowly walked over to Aiden’s desk, his cowboy booted steps echoing off the polished floor. As Buck sat down, he tipped the brim of his Stetson up so that he could see Aiden more clearly.
“Sheriff Fern.” Aiden managed a stiff half smile as he greeted his impromptu guest. “What can I do for you?”
“I thought I’d drop by and see how you’re doing,” Buck replied flatly.
Aiden shifted nervously in his seat. It certainly wasn’t the sheriff’s style to make such visits.
There was another brisk tap on the office door and Betty reappeared from behind it.
“Can I get you boys some coffee?” she wondered politely.
Buck shook his head but didn’t turn to face her.
