by Cross, Amy
“I know who you mean.”
“The poor guy spilled coffee all over his trousers. I mean, all over. He had to put 'em up to dry, so he spent most of the night working in just his shirt and a pair of boxers. At least the coffee wasn't hot, eh?”
“That's a funny story,” she said calmly.
“Yeah, we all got a kick out of it.”
“Almost hard to believe it really happened.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
She paused. Every morning, Bob had one 'funny' story from his night-shift. Just one. It was almost as if he thought them up on his way home. “How was Candy?” she asked finally.
“Who?”
“Candy. The younger woman who joined the office recently. Woman, girl, whatever.”
“Oh, her.” He poured some cereal into a bowl, and then he sniffed. “She wasn't there.”
“Not her shift?”
“Not her shift.”
“Maybe she'll be on tonight. You are working tonight, aren't you?”
“Um...” He grabbed some milk from the fridge as the kettle finished boiling. “Yes,” he said after a moment, as if he'd had to take a moment to get his story straight. “Yes, yes I am. Working tonight. Another long slog. I swear, Lanegan must have shares in the company that makes those little espresso pods in the office, 'cause we go through those fucking things like there's no tomorrow. It's the only thing that keeps us from turning into total zombies by around four each morning.” He turned to her. “So how come you couldn't sleep?”
“I guess I was just running through things in my head,” she told him.
“Like what?” He waited for a reply, before filling his cup with hot water and carrying it over the table. “I need to crash, babe, I'm exhausted, but if something's on your mind...”
She stared at him for a moment. “What could possibly be on my mind, Bob?”
“I don't know,” he said cautiously, “but... Maybe I'm being paranoid, but I feel like you're digging at something. Is there a problem here, something I don't know about?”
She opened her mouth to tell him that, yes, there was a problem, and that, no, his lies weren't fooling her at all. Something, however, held her back, and after a moment she realized it was Lucy. She needed to think about her daughter, and to plan everything a little better. For one thing, she'd need to make sure she was financially independent; for another, she figured she needed evidence for the inevitable divorce. Bob was the kind of guy who'd deny everything.
“My...” Another pause. “My brother's coming for Christmas,” she told him finally. “That's all.”
“Jack?” He paused, before raising his eyebrows in shock as he realized what she meant. “Ben?”
“Ben.”
“Are you serious? How long has it been?”
“Nine wonderful years.”
“So he hasn't even met Lucy?”
She shook her head.
“And he's coming back to town now? Why?”
She shrugged.
“You haven't asked him?”
“I haven't spoken to him since the last time he was here. I don't know where he's been, what he's been doing, why he's finally decided to come back to town... I'm completely in the dark when it comes to his activities.”
“Huh.” He tried to take a sip of tea, before finding that it was too hot. “Well that's a turn-up for the books. Wonder what he wants, eh? Maybe he's in trouble, or he's being chased by someone. Maybe the cops are after him. Or maybe he just wants money, in which case, there's no way we can give him more. You know that, right, Beth? Just to be clear, another loan is completely out of the question.”
“I know that, Bob.”
He nodded. “Good. So where's he staying? It sure as well won't be here.”
“He's going to stay with Jack and Jane.”
“Ha. Well I'm sure they'll love having Crazy Ben in the spare room. I'd love to have seen Jane's face when she found out.” He paused. “And Jack's. I mean, he's got some pretty wild theories about Ben, hasn't he? I remember that night he got a little drunk at your mother's birthday party and started running through these timelines. He's actually got notebooks, do you know that? Little journals with all his theories and ideas. I just to think he was joking about all that stuff, but now I think he might be serious.”
She stared at him for a moment, before slowly getting up and making her way over to the door. “I have to get Lucy ready for school.”
“You sure you're okay, Beth?” Bob called after her. “You're acting a little weird this morning. I hope I didn't accidentally do anything to upset you.”
“No,” she replied. “You didn't accidentally do anything.”
“You should get some rest,” he added. “You look tired.”
“Thanks.”
Heading out into the hallway, she stopped once she was out of sight, and finally she looked down. Opening her right hand, she saw two trickles of blood running from beneath the broken safety pin she'd been clutching. While she was talking to Bob, the pain of clenching her fist tight around the pin had been the only thing keeping her from screaming.
V
“You look tired,” Alex said as he watched Jane at the coffee machine. “Are you sure you're up to this today?”
“I'm fine,” she lied, filling a cup with lukewarm coffee. “I just didn't get much sleep last night.”
“Problem?”
She turned to him. “No, Sir. Just...” For a moment, she considered telling him about her brother-in-law's impending return to town, and she knew that Alex would find the news interesting. Still, she figured there was a danger of blowing the whole thing up out of all proportion,and she didn't fancy a whole morning of Ben-centric smalltalk, not when she was facing the same thing when she got home. “Nothing. I'm totally on it.”
“That's good to hear,” he replied, looking down at the papers on his desk. “Wouldn't want you falling asleep while we're checking out a bin that got kicked over in the night.”
“Sounds like another fun day. Did any trash get spilled?”
“No. It just got kicked over. Either that, or maybe it just fell. It's that one on Pencester Street, you know? Outside the Co-op, where it can get a little windy.” He paused, clearly giving the matter a great deal of thought. “I think it fell.”
“Well, that's...” She paused, trying to think of something to say, but for a moment all she could think about was the big, soft, warm bed at home, and the fact that it would be another twelve hours or so before she had a chance to crawl back under the covers. “You know,” she continued finally, “sometimes I think you actually want people to be up to no good, so we've got something to do around here.”
“Ha,” he muttered, reading the printout for a moment. “You know, someone kicked over a bin by the bus station last month. You think we've got a serial bin-kicker on our hands?”
“Either that,” she replied, “or faulty restraining screws and a few gusts of wind.”
“Huh.” He paused, before looking across the office for a moment. “You're right, though. It is kinda -”
Before he could finish, the phone on his desk began to ring, giving them both a slight jump.
“Wow,” Alex muttered, “it still works. You want to do the honors, or should I?”
She gestured for him to answer.
“Maybe we should get a new secretary after all,” he continued, before picking up the receiver. “The budget'd just about stretch, but...” He cleared his throat. “Bowley police department, Alex Gordon speaking. How can we help you on this fine day?”
As she watched, Jane realized the color was slowly draining from Alex's face.
***
Opening his eyes suddenly, the stranger saw that morning had arrived. He blinked a couple of times, trying to remember exactly what had happened the previous night, but his memories were a little hazy and all he knew for certain was that he'd gone to an all-night store after leaving the bar. Rolling over, he looked down at the floor and saw a
one-third empty bottle of whiskey.
“Jesus,” he muttered, squinting as he looked over at the window. “Does everything have to be so offensively bright in this goddamn town?”
A moment later, a police siren could be heard speeding past. Listening, the stranger started to smile, and finally he chuckled to himself.
***
“Yeah, I'd cut this part,” Jack said, striking through a paragraph with a red pen. “It's extraneous to the core of the story, you know?”
“Okay,” replied Daniel, the intern, with customary eagerness. “Anything you say.”
“And then maybe -”
Stopping suddenly, Jack looked over at the window as he heard a police siren getting closer. A moment later, he saw a car flash past the newspaper's office building.
“Huh,” he said with a frown.
“Something wrong, Sir?” Daniel asked.
“No.” He paused, before turning back to him. “No, I just... I guess my wife must be having a busy day.”
***
“Of course not,” Bob whispered, as he stood naked in the bathroom with the shower running nearby to make some noise. He was holding his phone and peering out the window, and after a moment he saw Beth leading Lucy to the car. “No, tonight's fine. I'll see you there.” He listened for a moment. “No, I didn't, not yet. Just let me handle that part, okay? No! I told you! Just meet me at the same place and same time. I'll be there, I promise.”
***
“Are you going to work today?” Lucy asked.
“I am,” Beth replied, pulling the door shut and slipping the key into the ignition. “Someone has to give Mrs. Fusserman her morning biscuits and wheel Mr. Moore into the garden.”
“But you look tired.”
“Me? I'm fine.” She glanced back toward the house and imagined Bob in there, thinking that he was getting away with everything. “Don't worry, sweetie-pie. Mummy's gonna make sure everything's okay and -”
Hearing a siren over her shoulder, she turned just in time to see a police car shooting past the end of the street with its lights flashing.
“What does that mean?” Lucy asked.
“I'm not sure,” Beth replied with a frown, “but I guess your aunt Jane has to be somewhere in a hurry.”
***
“I love you,” Caitlin's voice whispered into Joe's ear as he slept.
***
A crow landed on the roof of the Monument bar and looked around for a moment, its beady eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of food. A moment later, as a man cried out below, the bird took off again, soaring high into the cold morning sky.
***
“Hey,” Jane said, rushing from the car as soon as it had stopped. Reaching Greg, the bar owner, she found he was sitting on the ground with his back against the fence and his head in his hands. “Greg?” she continued, crouching in front of him. “Greg, can you hear me? Where is she?”
He sobbed something unintelligible.
“Greg,” she said again, putting a hand on his shoulder, “for God's sake, I need you to tell me where she is.”
After a moment, Greg lifted his face and looked at her, but it was clear that he was in a state of advanced shock. Tears were running down his cheeks and his trembling mouth was half open, as if he was trying to speak but the trauma had gripped his soul and wouldn't let go. He was a big man usually, the kind of guy who could throw pretty much anyone out of his bar, but right now he seemed crumpled and small, as if some part of him had collapsed in on itself.
“Where is she?” Jane asked, more firmly this time. “Greg, talk to me!”
“I'll look around the back,” Alex said, hurrying past and making his way along the alley that ran down the side of the building.
“I...” Greg whimpered. “She...” Before he could say another word, his gaze seemed to lock, as if he was frozen in place.
“Jane!” Alex shouted. “Get over here!”
“Don't move, okay?” Jane told Greg as she got to her feet. “I'll be right back.” Spotting movement nearby, she saw that a few concerned locals had already gathered. “Margaret, Denise,” she continued, “could one of you just sit with Greg for a moment? Maybe get him a glass of water.”
“Of course,” Margaret replied, hurrying over, “but what's wrong?”
“I'm not sure yet,” she said, turning and making her way along the alley. “Hopefully nothing,” she added under her breath as she turned the corner and saw Alex leaning into one of the large plastic bins round the back of the building. “What is it?” she asked.
“Exactly what he said it was.”
Stepping closer, Jane peered into the bin. She froze as soon as she saw a pair of legs poking out from under a pile of black sacks.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” she whispered, as she reached the bin and looked inside. Sure enough, there was a bloodied arm poking out from under some other sacks. “This looks really fresh.”
“There were a few flies around a moment ago.”
“Have you taken a look at the face yet?” she asked.
Alex shook his head, before reaching into the bin and taking hold of one of the sacks. Slowly, cautiously, he lifted it to one side, exposing the battered and beaten face of Mel Armitage, the woman who'd been working late shifts in the bar for the past few years. Her eyes were closed, but there were enough thick knife wounds around her neck and throat to make the situation clear. Blood had pooled in the creases of the black sacks beneath her body.
“There are more wounds,” Jane said, pointing down toward Mel's waist, where the dead woman's shirt had been sliced in multiple places and was now stained with blood that had already begun to dry in some places, and was glisteningly moist in others. “Jesus, it looks like she's been stabbed ten, maybe fifteen times. There's -”
Before she could finish, Alex grabbed her arm and pulled her back, before letting the bin's lid fall shut.
“Let's leave the examination to the professionals,” he told her.
She tried to pull the lid open again. “I think I saw -”
“Jane!” Holding the lid firmly shut, he pushed her away. “I'm serious, we can't risk contaminating the scene.”
“I just want to look,” she told him. “I think her -”
“Our job is to secure the area,” he continued, “and get Tomlin here to take a preliminary look before he takes her for an autopsy.. I don't want anyone looking at her right now, it's not right.”
“I think her heart -”
“Jesus, Jane -”
“I think her heart is missing!”
She paused, before pulling the lid back open and looking inside. Peering closer, she saw a ragged hole in the dead woman's chest, with several broken ribs poking out.
“It is,” she said finally, feeling a cold shiver pass through her body. “Her heart's been taken.”
“Jesus,” Alex muttered, turning and taking a few paces away.
“Boss, you know what -”
“Alright, alright.”
“But if -”
“I know,” he said firmly. “I know, okay? You don't need to say it.”
She paused, before slowly lowering the lid and turning to him. “We need to get photos,” she said after a moment. “We need to get lots of photos of the scene.”
With his back to her, he nodded.
“And we need to get Tomlin here right away,” she added, her voice trembling a little. “We need to... Crap, we need to, we need to...”
“I know,” he said again.
They stood in silence for a moment.
“So I'll go and get some tape and a camera,” she continued. She waited for a reply, but none was forthcoming. “Boss?”
“Yeah,” he replied, sounding as if he was close to breaking down. “Do that.”
“Okay.” She paused again. “Are you... Are you okay?”
Still with his back to her, he nodded.
“I'll be back soon, she continued. “I promise.” Turning, she headed back around the building, befo
re stopping and glancing at Alex again. He'd already walked away from the bin, and she could tell he was struggling with what he'd seen. After a moment, she made her way back around to where Greg was being comforted by some of the people who'd stopped.
“Is it true?” Margaret asked, with tears in her eyes.
Jane paused for a moment. “Yeah,” she said finally. “It's true.”
VI
“That's not what happened,” Stuart said, sitting on the fertilizer box as he watched Oliver and Lucy playing in the sand. “You two are such children sometimes.”
“You don't know anything,” Oliver replied.
“I overheard Mum and Dad talking,” Stuart told him, “so yeah, actually, I do know what happened, dip-shit.” He paused, with a smug grin on his face. “I heard them describing everything that had been done to the woman in the bin. Mum saw it all in, like, total detail, and she was telling Dad all about it.”
“Liar,” Oliver muttered, looking back down at his half-buried toys.
“What happened to her?” Lucy asked.
“You're too young to know,” Stuart told her.
“I am not,” Lucy replied, setting her doll down. “I'm old enough. What happened?”
“You're still a baby,” he pointed out. “You have to be a certain age to know things like this, otherwise you'll be traumatized.”
“What does traumatized mean?” she asked.
“It means upset,” Stuart replied. “It means really, really upset. The kind of upset you never get over. Like, you know Joe O'Brien? You know how everyone always says he's upset about something that happened years and years ago?”
She nodded.
“That's how upset you'd be.”
“I wouldn't,” Lucy said. “Just tell me.”
“Even if I could,” Stuart continued, smiling as he glanced at his brother, “Oliver'd probably wet his pants.”
“Shut up!” Oliver said firmly. “You're an idiot!”
“I know you are,” Stuart replied, “but what am I?”
“Tell us!”
