by Cross, Amy
Hearing a door opening in the next room, Alex turned just in time to see Ben hurrying into view. Stopping in the doorway, Ben froze as soon as he saw his brother's body on the slab.
“You're not supposed to be here,” Alex said, hurrying over and putting a hand on Ben's chest, trying to force him back.
“The hell I'm not,” Ben replied, slipping past and heading to the top of the slab. “He's my brother. Was my brother. Is still.” He reached down to touch the side of Jack's face, before thinking better of it and pulling his hand away. “He was my brother a long time ago.”
“You shouldn't be in here,” Alex said firmly. “Ben, come on, let's -”
“It was the guy with the mask, wasn't it?”
“I...” Alex paused. “I'm sorry?”
“The guy with the mask,” Ben continued, still staring down at Jack's dead face. “You know, the one with the stag bits glued to his goddamn head. It was the freak with the mask, which means...” He swallowed hard. “Jack probably couldn't even see the guy's face. You can't even see the eyes through that mask, not properly. Jack probably thought it was me.”
“That's a bit of a leap,” Alex said cautiously. “Ben, let's go across the street and -”
“You saw the paper today, didn't you?” Ben asked, looking along at the hole in Jack's chest. “He had no doubts at all. The odds are, he thought I was the one who did this to him.”
“I'm sure he knows now, Ben, that -”
“He doesn't know anything now.”
“He's in a better place.”
“He's right here!” Ben shouted, taking a step toward Alex as his rage threatened to explode. After a moment, he turned back to look at Jack. “He's not in a better place. He's right here in front of me, I can see his goddamn lifeless corpse.” Leaning across the table, he looked into his brother's chest and saw the gap where the heart should have been. His initial reaction was to pull back, but he forced himself to keep looking. After a moment, he began to imagine the heart being cut out and the warm blood flowing free.
“Where were you last night, Ben?” Alex asked after a moment.
Slowly, Ben turned to him.
“Jesus,” Tomlin muttered, turning and pretending to be busy with some tools on the counter.
“I need to know,” Alex continued. “You're not the only one, Ben. I need to ask a lot of people the same question.”
“Maybe this isn't the right time,” Tomlin suggested.
“No,” Ben said, stepping toward Alex, “it's definitely the right time. I was out last night murdering my brother, obviously. Where was the body found, exactly? Wherever it was, I was right there. What kind of knife did the killer use? Let me know and I'll go get one and stick in my pocket for you to find!”
“Ben -” Alex began.
“Don't believe me?” Ben asked, angrily pushing Alex back against the wall. “What's wrong, are all your theories falling apart? Are you starting to wonder whether maybe you got everything wrong?”
“Ben, please,” Alex replied, trying to ease him back. “You're upset, you're in shock -”
“Do you think so?” Ben shouted, pushing him harder against the wall. “Really, old man, do you think I'm angry? What gave it away?”
Alex opened his mouth to reply, but at first he was too shocked to say anything. “I know you're angry,” he managed finally, his voice flecked with doubt, “but Ben, listen to me, I know you're upset and you're... furious, and shocked.” He waited for Ben to reply, while not daring to try pushing him away. “You're hurt, and you're confused, and -”
“What are you, a walking thesaurus?” Ben asked.
“Listen -”
“Shut up! Just shut the hell up! Nothing you say ever really helps anyone in this town, does it? You just strut around in your badly-fitting uniform, making everyone feel safe while the Devil stands right behind them!”
“This isn't the place to have this discussion,” Alex replied, before clearing his throat. “Let's go to my office and talk there, Ben. Okay? We won't go into the interview room, you're not under arrest, let's just go and talk. Please, we shouldn't be arguing right next to your brother's... right next to your brother. It's not decent.”
“I'm angry,” Ben replied, his eyes filled with cold fury. “Well that's good. You finally noticed. It only took you a decade or so. Now you just need to work out why I'm angry.”
“Your brother just -”
“It's not that,” he continued. “Really, it's not.”
Stepping back, he glanced down at Jack for a moment, before turning and heading to the door.
“Where are you going?” Alex called after him.
“You said I'm not under arrest,” Ben replied.
“You're not, but I still want to talk to you.” Hurrying after him, Alex followed him through to the reception area. “Ben, we owe it to your brother to make sure his killer is brought to justice.”
“You don't have a hope,” Ben muttered, pushing the door open and stepping out onto the street. “You're just saying those words 'cause you know you're supposed to.”
“Ben -”
“It's the Border!” Ben shouted, turning to him. “The stag-headed man comes from the Border! Do those words mean anything to you at all?”
He waited for a reply.
“Do you know about the stag-headed man?” he continued.
Alex paused. “I... The what?”
“And the Border?”
“I don't have a clue what you're talking about,” Alex stammered.
“I've seen him,” Ben continued. “Sort of, anyway. I've seen the mask, I've seen enough to know what the hell he looks like, and I've seen enough of that place to know it should have been destroyed a long, long time ago, but it has the perfect defense mechanism. It makes everyone look the other way.”
“What are you talking about?” Alex asked. “You're not making any sense.”
Ben stared at him for a moment, before allowing a faint, bitter smile to cross his lips. “You really don't know, do you?” he asked finally. “I always wondered whether maybe you were just really good at covering your tracks. I figured there was no way you could be completely ignorant of what's happening right here in Bowley, but I guess I gave you too much credit, even then. You honestly don't have a clue, do you? This whole goddamn thing has just gone sailing over your head for decades. Or rather, under your feet.”
“What are you talking about?” Alex asked, sounding increasingly exasperated as he loosened the top button of his suddenly-too-tight shirt. “Can you please just come to my office and explain?”
“No,” Ben replied, “I don't think I can. I think you need to do whatever you're supposed to do in a situation like this, and just be glad that you're ignorant, because if you knew what was really going on here, what was really hiding under the surface in Bowley, your heart would break. And that's the problem, really. When your heart is broken, you need to find some way to hold it together. If you need a tip, I find anger does the job pretty damn well.”
Alex watched as Ben walked away.
“What do you mean?” he called out after a moment, but he made no attempt to go after Ben and ask again. Somehow, deep down, he felt as if he'd just come close to learning the truth about the darkness he'd occasionally sensed. He'd always told himself that he was imagining things, that Bowley wasn't a town with secrets, but now he felt pure fear in his chest at the thought that Ben knew more than he was letting on. Shaken, he turned and headed to his office. Coffee, he figured, might help him to calm down.
***
“Well when are you coming back?”
“I don't know. I just called to -”
“This is ridiculous, Ben. You said you were just going to see your family for Christmas, but now -”
“I might not be coming back at all,” he added, interrupting her. Sighing, he closed his eyes, trying to quieten the sense of chaos that was threatening to shake his skull apart. For a moment, just a few seconds, he felt as if he might have hit a
wall, as if after years of ducking and weaving he'd finally got to a point where his only option was collapse. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and realized that the sensation had passed. He'd get through this. He always got through things. He was a survivor.
“Ben...” Paula said on the other end of the line, her tone having become much softer, more worried now that she was fully awake. “Listen to me -”
“I have to do something,” he replied, interrupting her again. “It's not that I don't want to come back and see you soon, it's that I might not be able to.” He turned and leaned against the wall, watching as the life of the town continued all around. People were hurrying in and out of stores, scooping up last-minute Christmas gifts. “I always told you that things could get complicated around me.”
“You did, but... What does that mean, Ben?”
“I can't keep coming back to Bowley and then running again,” he told her. “I have to do something about all of this, or I'm not better than the rest of them. Better men than me have ignored this thing for too long. That's the thing, I always thought the better men would step up and sort it out, but they didn't. I think maybe they're leaving it to scum like me.”
“But you might be home in a week or two, right?”
“I don't know.”
“But you might?” She waited for an answer. “Please, tell me you might.”
“I might.”
“And nothing's happened, has it?” She waited again. “You sound different, like maybe... Are you upset, Ben? Have you been crying?”
“Me?” He tried to laugh, but he immediately knew that the effort sounded hopelessly false. “Crying? No, I haven't been crying. When was the last time you saw me crying?”
“You know,” she continued, “I could come to Bowley and -”
“No.”
“But if it'd -”
“No!” he said firmly. “You're not to set foot in this place, do you understand? I swear, if -” Stopping suddenly, he became aware of a man who was loitering nearby, ostensibly emptying his coat pockets into a trashcan next to the bench. Eying the man with suspicion, Ben couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps it was someone from the Border, someone who'd been sent to keep track of him. He waited a couple of seconds, before the man turned and walked away, heading toward the hardware store.
“Ben?” Paula said. “What's so bad about me coming to see you? Are you ashamed of me and -”
“No,” he said, interrupting her again, “I'm not ashamed of anything. Last night, my...” His voice trailed off, and he realized that if he told her about Jack's death, he wouldn't be able to keep her away. She was that kind of person. “Look, I will be home, you know I will. Next week, maybe the week after, I'm just being melodramatic. I'll be home as soon as possible, and then we'll have a fake Christmas to replace this one, and everything'll be okay. And then it's your birthday on Valentine's Day, right? We'll really go crazy this year.”
“You're just saying that to keep me from showing up in Bowley.”
“I'm not, I swear.”
She paused. “Look after yourself, Ben. You sound ragged. And call more often. It'd be nice to hear from you at least every other day, if not more. And try to -” Stopping suddenly, she sighed. “Jesus Christ, do you hear me? I sound like some nagging, housebound...” Now it was her turn to fall silent, and a moment later she could be heard swallowing hard on the other end of the line. “Okay,” she continued finally, “I am not going to nag you or complain about you not being here, that's not the kind of person I am. Just promise you'll try to get home as soon as you can.”
“I'll try.”
“And call me occasionally. Humor me. Just so I know you're okay.”
“I'll try.” Looking down at the grass, he began to imagine the Border down there, most likely still active even in the middle of the day. “I've got to go,” he added, getting to his feet. “I have things to do.”
“You have to call me tomorrow,” she continued. “It's Christmas.”
“Sure. And Paula... I love you.”
He waited.
Silence.
“Paula? Did you hear me?”
“I heard you,” she replied, her voice sounding even more strained and worried than before. “I just know you never say that unless you're really scared.”
He stood in silence, not knowing what to say. He could hear her on the other end of the line, waiting for him to speak, but he desperately wanted her to just hang up. After a couple of minutes like that, he realized he couldn't say the one thing that mattered, so finally he just cut the call.
IV
Finally the house had fallen silent, after hours and hours of tears.
“She's sleeping,” Audrey said as she pulled the door shut, letting it bump gently against the frame. “The kids are in with her, they're all...” She paused, her eyes filled with tears. “They're all exhausted. Still, I don't suppose they'll sleep for long.”
“You need to sleep too,” Ben replied, leading her through to the dark kitchen. He flicked on one of the lights before heading to the counter and hitting a switch on the side of the coffee machine. “We all need to sleep.”
He grabbed two mugs, before turning and seeing that his mother was standing in the doorway, as if she had no idea what to do next.
“Sit down,” he told her.
“But -”
“Just sit down.”
After pausing for a moment, she made her way to the breakfast bar and sat on one of the stools.
“Where's Beth?” he asked as he looked through the cupboard, trying to find a pot of instant coffee.
“She went home to pick up some things. She'll be back soon. She's not holding up well, but...” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “Why would someone do this? Who would anyone ever want to kill Jack?” She paused. “It was always girls who died. They never killed a man until now. Not in Bowley.”
Setting some mugs down, Ben paused for a moment. Part of him felt it had just been a turn of phrase, something to ignore, but at the same time he couldn't quite let it go. “They?” he asked finally.
He waited.
Silence.
Turning to her, he saw that she was staring at the dark window. Again, he told himself he was reading too much into his mother's words, but after a moment he realized there was a hint of darkness in her eyes.
“You know, don't you?” he said finally.
Again, he waited.
“You know about the Border.” He took a step toward her. “You, of all people, know about that place. How?” He paused. “Please, tell me you weren't one of those girls who -”
“Of course not!” she hissed, as if the idea revolted her. “Don't even suggest such a thing! The girls who work in that place are harlots and...” She sighed, clearly shocked. “No right-thinking, decent person would ever go to work down there.”
“Then how do you know about it, Mom?”
“Oh...” She sighed. “I'm not a fool, Ben. I see things, I hear things. Anyone in this rotten little town would know about it if they just kept their eyes open and thought about all the discrepancies. It's ludicrous to think that something like the Border could stay hidden without the complicity of everyone in Bowley. I've never been there, of course. I've never really seen what happens, but I know enough. I've heard plenty over the years, and my imagination has filled in the rest, thank you very much.” She paused, with fear in her eyes. “I know you know too. I know you worked down there for a short while, just general dogsbody work.”
He waited for her to continue. “What else do you know?”
“Ben -”
“What else do you know?” he asked again, more firmly this time.
“I know that...” She took a deep breath, as if maybe she was close to tears. “I know... I know the basics. I know Garland Packer -”
“What do you know about Garland Packer?” he snapped.
“Never mind.”
He watched her for a moment, before stepping closer. “What do you k
now about Garland Packer?” he asked again.
“Don't push me, Ben.”
“Do you know how he died?”
She froze.
“How did he die?” he asked.
“Some passing vagrant -”
“How did he die, Mom?”
“Alex said -”
“How did he die?” he shouted, taking a step toward her, causing her to flinch slightly. “Don't spew out that garbage about passing vagrants that Alex comes out with every time he needs to explain his own incompetence! Tell me how Garland Packer died!”
He waited, his face flushed with anger.
“Well, you killed him, didn't you?” she said finally, with a sigh. Her tone was almost dismissive, as if it didn't really matter. She glanced toward the door, to make sure that no-one was listening. “Don't worry, no-one else knows. Not as far as I'm aware, anyway. I just put two and two together.”
“When?”
“Ben -”
“When did you work it out?”
“When it happened.” She paused. “It wasn't exactly hard to spot, not for anyone who actually had their eyes open.”
“And you didn't think to mention it to me?”
“What would be the point? You seemed to have it all under control.”
“I did?”
“You did.”
He stepped closer to her. “Let me get this straight,” he said after a moment. “You knew that I'd murdered Garland Packer, and you did absolutely nothing about it?”
“What should I have done?” she asked. “Marched you down to the police station?”
“You should have done something,” he replied. “Realizing that your son is a murderer is not a life event that most people would be able to sweep under the carpet.”
“You had your reasons.”
“I had my reasons?” he asked incredulously, clearly struggling to believe what he was hearing. “What the hell does that mean? I'm a murderer but it's okay because you figure I wasn't just doing it for fun?”
