by Cross, Amy
“Bingo.”
“Sure,” he replied, resisting the temptation to ask her about the third autopsy, and about any possible link to Hermitage House. “It'll probably just be microwaved lasagna, but I'll rustle something up. I'll even save some for you.” He paused, watching her for a moment. “Jane, were you talking to yourself in the shower earlier?”
She glanced at him. “No, why?”
“I just thought I heard you talking, that's all.”
She shook her head and started getting her uniform ready. Watching her, Jack could tell she was trying hard to seem casual, which meant she was hiding something. For one thing, he was certain she'd been talking in the shower, and for another he'd long felt confident that he could read his wife like a book. Any time she tried to keep something from him, he always knew immediately.
“I'd never ask you to divulge police information,” he continued finally, “but in general, is the case going okay?”
“Nice try.”
“I just want to know when you'll be less stressed,” he explained, “and when you'll stop having to work all those night-shifts.”
“When the case is done.”
“Which won't be any time soon?”
He watched as she awkwardly hitched the towel up to her knees, and then she stepped into a pair of panties and pulled them up until they disappeared beneath the towel. Once she was done, she dropped the towel but kept her back to him as she slipped into her bra, not even letting him see a glimpse of side-boob.
“Why did you do that?” he asked after a moment.
“Do what?” she replied, already stepping into her trousers.
“Hide yourself.” He paused. “It was like watching someone getting changed on a beach when there are strangers around.”
She turned to him with a frown. “Huh?”
“I have seen you naked before,” he pointed out.
“I should hope so,” she replied, continuing to get dressed. “After all, we've got two kids together. It'd be a bit weird if we'd managed that without getting naked in front of each other.” She grabbed her jacket. “You're being weird, Jack. Stop being weird.”
“I'm being weird? What about -”
“Come on,” she added, “let's leave it. And as for the Mel Armitage murder investigation, we have no further information at this time.”
“That's a direct quote from the press release,” he replied. “My wife is standing in front of me, apparently unwilling to be naked in our own bedroom, and she's speaking the words of a press release to me. That has to be a metaphor for something.”
“It's a metaphor for me being insanely busy,” she replied, as she slipped her phone into her pocket and then leaned across the bed so she could give him a brief peck on the cheek. As she did so, he tried to initiate a full kiss, but she simply smiled and stepped back. “Timing, honey?”
“But -”
“So I'll let you know when I know what time I get off,” she added, turning and heading to the door. “I'll try to get home at least slightly on time, I promise, but the next few days are gonna be crazy until we get this case sorted. I'm talking late nights, early mornings, mind on other things. And try to be less weird tonight, okay? You're over-thinking things way, way too much. Enjoy your day.”
“Enjoy yours,” he muttered, waiting until she'd left the room before grabbing his laptop and bringing up a browser window so he could look up Hermitage House and try to figure out how it was linked to Mel Armitage's murder. Even though he'd been through Jane's emails, and even though he had access to files passed to him by Doctor Tomlin, he still felt as if he wasn't seeing the whole picture. After a moment, he glanced over at the towel Jane had left on the back of the chair, and he realized he couldn't remember the last time his wife had seemed totally comfortable around him.
Fortunately, he told himself, there was no way she was hiding anything important, other than work-related things. Jane just wasn't that type of woman.
***
“Are you kidding me?” Jack asked a short while later, as he made his way to his desk with Daniel, the intern, following just behind. “Our circulation has almost doubled since Mel Armitage was killed. There's no way we're putting anything else on the front page, it'd be commercial suicide.”
“But wouldn't variety be good?” Daniel asked cautiously. “People might get burned out or bored.”
“Bored?” Smiling, Jack turned to him. “How old are you, again?”
“Um... Twenty, Sir.”
“I was twenty-seven when I started working here,” he replied. “Jesus, that makes me feel old. The point is, and I mean no offense by this, but you don't have the experience necessary to really know what people want on their front page.”
“I studied Journalism for three years.”
“I don't mean that kind of experience, I mean experience in life, and in -”
Spotting movement over by the main door, he saw an old man shuffling through, and finally he smiled as he realized that he was about to be blessed with a visit from his predecessor.
“Mac,” he called out, hurrying across the office, “what the hell are you doing here?”
“That's a charming welcome,” Mac replied, leaning heavily on his cane as he let the door swing shut. He gasped, as if the effort of getting from the curb to the door had been a little too much. “Can't an old man just drop by his former stomping ground now and again? I might be too old to work, but I'm not old enough to spend all my time in the retirement home. Not quite yet, anyway. I still like to get out and about.”
“Daniel,” Jack continued, “I want you to meet Mac. Mac was the editor here before me, he ran this place for fifty-two years non-stop. He's the man who hired me in the first place.”
“Fat lot of good that did me,” Mac muttered, turning to Daniel. “I was out on my ass so fast, I didn't know what'd hit me. This punky kid -” He winced as a jolt of pain shot up his leg, but he waved away Jack's offer of help and instead began to make his way across the office. “I became obsolete,” he continued. “There was no room here for the likes of me. Not that I should complain, of course. It's the circle of life.” Stopping at the desk, he turned to Jack. “How's this latest murder case going from your perspective? Are sales up?”
“Almost double.”
“That's what I like to hear. A good murder always gets people buying.”
“And website hits are through the roof.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It's definitely a good thing,” Jack replied, heading to the coffee machine in the corner and starting to prepare some cups. “We get advertising revenue from visitors. People have visited the Bowley Herald's website from Europe, Africa, Asia, all over the world.”
“What do people in Africa care about what's happening in Bowley?” Mac asked, as if the idea was insane.
“We live in a globalized world. Almost half our daily hits come from social media now. Daniel's helping to optimize our pages for sharing.”
“Huh?” Mac turned to him. “It's like you're talking a completely different language. In my day, we didn't want people sharing anything. We wanted them to buy their own damn copies!”
“Times change,” Jack replied. “We've had to change with them, but we're doing a good job. A lot of local papers are folding these days, but the Herald is actually showing a slight year-on-year increase.”
“So the talk around the retirement home,” Mac continued, “is that the cops aren't making much headway with the whole Mel Armitage business. With Alex Gordon leading the investigation, that lack of progress isn't exactly a surprise, the man's a buffoon, but still, the cops aren't the only ones who can ask questions around here. Do you happen to know if the cops have brought anyone in for interrogation yet?”
“I don't think so,” Jack replied.
“And have they definitively linked the latest victim to the murder of Caitlin Somers all those years ago?”
“I'm not sure.”
“What's the matter? Wife
not giving you the juice?”
“It's complicated,” Jack replied. “I have certain sources.”
“In my day,” Mac continued, turning to Daniel, “this office was more effective than the police department. We knew our readers were waiting for more news, we knew each edition had to have something to get them interested, so we worked harder and faster than the cops. Especially once Alex Gordon took over that goddamn place, the man's a fruitcake of the highest order.” He turned back to Jack for a moment and paused, eying him with a hint of concern. “I heard your brother's back in town.”
Jack nodded.
“How does that figure into things?” Mac asked.
“I don't know that it does.”
“There's no need to be polite with me,” Mac replied, “I know what you were thinking about Ben nine years ago. Have you still got those suspicions?”
“I...” Jack paused. “He doesn't make it easy.”
“So you still think he might be the killer, huh?”
“I...” Another pause. “I can't rule anything out.”
“You should follow your gut,” Mac continue, raising his cane and using the tip to gently poke Jack's belly. “You've got good instincts, kid, that's why I hired you in the first place. Even if you're wrong, your nose is obviously leading you in that direction for a reason, and besides...” It was his turn to pause now, as if he was concerned about saying too much more. “I don't believe in coincidences,” he added finally, “not when they pile up like this. The murders in this town correlate precisely with the times when Ben is around.”
“I know,” Jack replied somberly.
“Can't ignore that,” Mac pointed out. “Can't. Won't do no good. The truth's the truth, might as well get to it as soon as possible. It won't get any less true if you leave it alone for a while.”
“I know,” Jack said again.
“I'm gonna tell you what I think,” Mac continued, “and you can discount it if you want, but maybe it'll help you see things clearly.” He paused. “Face it, Jack... Your brother's the one. We knew it back then, and it's even more clear today. I don't know why he's doing it, I'm not a psychiatrist and I don't fancy pontificating, but it's clear to me that Ben's the killer. I guess that's another reason I came by to see you today. I wanted to work out if you're too close to all of this to cover the story effectively.”
“I'm fine.”
“What does Jane think?”
“She isn't saying.”
“Tight as a clam, huh?”
He nodded.
“Then you need to un-tighten her,” he continued. “She's a good woman, so you need to get her to open up somehow. What's she like when she gets drunk? Talkative?”
“I'm not getting my wife drunk just so she'll give me details of the police investigation.”
“You checked her phone yet?”
“No!”
Mac stared at him for a moment, before turning to Daniel. “Step out for a moment, boy. Leave the men to talk.”
Daniel turned to Jack, as if he wasn't sure whether to obey, before finally heading to the door. He seemed a little reluctant, but soon he was gone.
“Liar,” Mac continued, turning back to Jack. “You've been sneaking looks at your wife's phone, I know you have. The real question is, have you come up with anything useful?”
Jack paused. “Nothing I can really use yet.”
“But you've got leads?”
“Maybe.”
“Then get on with them.”
Jack turned to the coffee machine. “What do -”
“There's no time for that,” Mac told him, tapping Jack's arm with the cane as if to usher him toward the door. “Do you have a lead that could benefit from getting your ass off to somewhere in town?”
“Maybe.”
“Then why are you standing around here talking to me?” Mac asked incredulously. “Go! Shoot! I can fix my own coffee. I'll get that intern in here and tell him some old war stories, maybe get him to see sense. Meanwhile, you should be out there, following every lead you've got. Do some good old-fashioned, boots on the ground journalism for once, before you forget what it feels like.”
“I...” Jack paused, before nodding. “You're right.”
“See?” Mac continued. “This is yet another reason why it's good that I dropped by! I can man the fort while you're out in the field. It's like a one-day reunion of the old gang! You know, sometimes, the old methods are the best!”
II
“I know what you're doing,” Hayley said as soon as she reached the table in the corner of the diner. “Don't lie to me. I know!”
Startled, Katie looked up from her cup of tea. “What do you -”
“I know what you're doing,” Hayley said again, taking a seat. “I overheard enough from Simon and the others to put two and two together. Plus, you weren't anywhere to be seen last night, and Simon didn't complain about you not showing up, which means you did show up but...” She paused. “You went below, didn't you?”
“I don't know what you mean.”
“Bull! I told you about the Border's next level as a warning. It never occurred to me that you'd be so goddamn stupid as to actually go down there for a shift!”
“You don't know what you're talking about,” Katie replied, looking back down at her cup. She didn't want to meet Hayley's gaze, because she knew that then her lie would be plain to see.
“So what did they do to you?” Hayley asked.
Katie shook her head.
“Was it bad?” Hayley continued. “Are you okay?”
“It was -” Katie paused, before looking at her again and realizing that there was no point lying. “I'm not allowed to talk about it,” she said finally, keeping her voice low so that none of the other customers in the diner could hear her. “You know the secrecy rules about the first level? It's the same for the second. If I want to go back there, which I do, then I have to keep my mouth shut.”
“But are you okay?” Hayley asked. “That's the most important thing right now.”
“I'm okay.”
“Did they... I mean, what did they do to you?”
“Nothing. It wasn't too bad.”
“What about the customers? Did they -”
“I can't!” Katie hissed, trying to stay calm. “Just stop asking, because I can't tell you what it was like.”
“Crutchlow was asking after you.”
“Crutchlow can go to hell.”
Hayley stared at her for a moment. “Are you going to go down there again?”
“I don't know.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning...” Katie paused, clearly a little exasperated. “Yes, maybe. Why not? The money's great, and it's only seven hours at a time. Plus, Simon says I can have some extra nights off later in the week, to recover.”
“Recover from what?”
“From...” Sighing, Katie finished her tea. “I have to be somewhere, okay? I only got off the shift a couple of hours ago, and I'm exhausted, and I've got all these errands to run, so I really need to go and do them. And please don't ask me about the second level, because I can't tell you. Please respect me enough to just let it be.”
Hayley paused. “Fine. I just hope you know what you're doing, though, 'cause if you keep going like this, you might find that you're not as tough as you think you are.”
“I can get used to it.”
“That's what I'm worried about.”
“Don't waste your time worrying about me.” Grabbing her bag, Katie got to her feet, but she winced with pain as she turned to walk to the door. “I'll be fine.”
“Jesus,” Hayley said, “what's wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Katie replied firmly, limping toward the exit. She had to stop at the door for a moment as the pain became too much, and she clutched the side of her belly as if she couldn't go on, but finally she pulled the door open and struggled out into the parking lot.
“Oh God,” Hayley whispered with a sigh. “This isn't going to
end well.”
“Your friend isn't doing so good,” a voice said suddenly.
Turning, Hayley saw a man watching her from the next table. Older but handsome, he had a broad grin and the kind of eyes that made her feel instantly uncomfortable.
“Ben,” he continued, smiling as he reached a hand across toward her. “Ben Freeman. I'm sorry, I couldn't help overhearing and, well, the girl you were talking to just now...” He paused. “I've seen her in here before, actually. I know it might seem weird, but I've spotted her around a few times, and I can tell she's hurting somehow. You know how you can just tell that about someone? Especially in Bowley. Some people are really good at hiding their true feelings, and some people aren't.”
“Do you know her?” Hayley asked, feeling a little creeped out by the stranger's intervention.
“Don't even know her name,” Ben replied. “I just... Damn it, I'm twice your age, you probably think I'm being weird, I just... You should go after her. You should check to see if there's anything you can do to help her. Take it from someone who knows, you don't want to leave it alone and then find out later that you're too late.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Hayley replied, hoping to cut the conversation off dead. Realizing that the guy was still watching her, she turned to him and offered a flat, polite smile, before getting up and heading to the bathroom.
“I didn't mean to be weird,” the guy called after her. “I was just trying to help.”
“I know,” she replied. “Thanks.”
“Was I weird?” he called after her. “Damn it, I was weird again, wasn't I?”
Pushing the bathroom door open, she made her way inside and then took a deep breath.
“Creep,” she muttered, even though she knew he was basically right. She made her way to the sink and began to wash her hands, before glancing down at the bin and seeing several pieces of torn tissue paper, covered in blood. “Jesus, Katie,” she whispered. “What the hell are they doing to you down there?”
***
There was blood everywhere. The man, who had just had his throat slashed by another user in the internet cafe, stumbled past shocked onlookers, heading for the exit. No-one went to help him, no-one really did much at all. A few people kept their eyes on their screens, continuing to play their games, and a moment later the screen switched to show the cafe's exterior, where the man had collapsed in a pool of his own blood.
