by Cross, Amy
She paused, before slowly turning to him.
He frowned. Until the moment the words left his lips, he'd had no idea he was going to confess, but now it felt good. He'd told his father and mother, of course, but they hadn't helped at all. Jane was a cop, and she didn't seem to be a complete psychopath, so this was the first confession that really counted.
“I killed Garland Packer,” he said again. “It was self-defense, but I did it.” He looked down at his hands, and for a moment he thought back to all the blood that had dried on his skin that day nine years ago. “We were arguing, I told him I'd let the whole world know about the Border, and he threatened to...” He paused. “Well, he threatened my family. I got scared, and I hit him on the back of the head with a brick. Then when I realized he wasn't quite dead yet, I hit him again and a few more times, just to be sure.” He sniffed. “That did it.”
“But...” Pausing, Jane seemed genuinely shocked.
“You didn't suspect me?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Well, damn it,” he continued, leaning back in the chair and letting out a sigh, “I thought at least... I guess Alex really thought it was just another vagrant or...”
His voice trailed off.
“How did you manage to avoid leaving any evidence behind?” she asked. “Forensics went over the place, there was nothing.”
He shrugged.
“What's that supposed to mean?” she continued.
“It means I don't know,” he replied. “Just got lucky, I guess. Maybe they were sloppy, maybe someone from the Border didn't want to attract attention, or maybe I just have a knack for these things.” He paused. “So I guess Jack was right about me.”
“Hardly.”
“He knew I was a killer, he was just wrong about who I'd killed.” Getting to his feet, he made his way over to look at the guns. “My brother knew me better than he realized. He picked up on something I didn't even want to admit myself. No matter how hard I protested, he could tell something wasn't right with me.” He paused again. “Even my insane, pig-headed father wasn't far off the mark. I guess I owe the old man an apology. If I get out of this in one piece, I'll try to find the money to buy him a new computer.”
“But it was self-defense,” she pointed out. “If you really killed Garland Packer, surely -”
“Not in that split second,” he replied, interrupting her. “In that blink of an eye between raising the brick and smashing it into his head, I meant it. I experienced total clarity and I thought I could end the misery of the Border. I thought I could save the whole of Bowley. Look how that turned out, huh?”
“You don't have to come tonight,” she told him. “I can do this alone.”
He shook his head.
“I mean it,” she continued. “Ben, maybe this is too much for you. I can see it in your eyes, you're struggling with the weight of the whole thing.”
“Struggling with the weight?” he replied, as a faint smile flashed across his face. “No, I'm not struggling with any weight. You're bringing far too much poetry to the situation, Jane. You're the one who should back out. You've got two children to look after, children who just lost their father.”
“Your mother's with them,” she replied. “Beth too. Right now, I think it's more important to fix this town so all the kids grow up without the Border's influence.”
“And what if we fail?” he asked, heading to the door.
“How could we fail?”
“The possibility didn't occur to you?”
“Well, I mean...” She paused, genuinely shocked by the idea. “How can we fail? It's not like the Border is somehow impervious to the law. The place has only survived because no-one tried to shut it down.”
“Maybe you don't know what you're getting yourself into.” Stopping in the hallway, he turned to her. “We really might fail. We might fail big time, in a way that even strengthens the Border. It's never been forced to stand up for itself before, but if we go in there and start making a fuss... Well, these things have a way of defending themselves, that's all I'm saying.” He checked his watch. “Meet out front in five minutes? I need to make a phone call before we do this.”
She nodded, before looking back down at the guns.
“Oh,” he added, “and you know the abandoned Bodega Mills factory just outside town?”
“What about it?”
“There's a dead hit-man there. I buried him deep, but in case the body ever gets found... I killed him too.”
She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but he was already gone, leaving her standing alone in the kitchen.
***
“Why would you leave?” Beth asked, following Bob through to the bedroom and watching as he stuffed more shirts into his suitcase. “Don't you think we should talk about this first?”
“What's there to talk about?” he replied, close to panic as he crouched in front of the dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer. “Things have been a little tough between us lately, one thing led to another, and you ended up hiring a hit-man to kill me. I mean, in terms of signals, that's a pretty huge one, don't you think? It's hard to really misinterpret the part where you paid a random guy to execute me.”
“You're taking this the wrong way.”
He pulled out some ties. “How am I supposed to take it?”
“I've been very stressed lately,” she continued. “My brother just died, I've had a lot on my mind, I've been trying to get some more shifts at the hospital and I truly, honestly forgot about the hit-man. I was going to cancel him but then after everything happened with Jack, I accidentally let the deadline roll past.”
“Huh,” he replied, heading back to the bed and dropping ties and socks into his suitcase. “Well, that sounds very reasonable, Beth. I can see how the whole thing was an honest goddamn mistake.” With that, he closed the top of the suitcase and zipped the sides, before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment. “You hired,” he continued slowly, “a hit-man. An actual hit-man with actual guns who was actually going to kill me!”
He waited for a reply, before turning to her.
“Am I that bad?” he asked. “I mean sure, I'm not perfect, but don't you think hiring a hit-man is something of an overreaction?”
“It's not like I woke up one morning and decided to do it,” she replied, “it's more like... Each day, I took one more little step in that direction. Each decision was so small, it just felt like a slight transgression, and it wasn't until the end that I looked back and realized how far I'd come.” She paused. “Don't you think that maybe, for Lucy's sake, we should sit down and talk about all of this properly, before anyone goes making any rash decisions?”
He stared at her for a moment, before grabbing his suitcase and heading to the door. “I'm going to a motel.”
“Will she be there?”
He glared back at his wife as he headed out of the room. “She, assuming you're talking about Candy, isn't answering my calls. I wonder why.”
“Maybe she realized she made a mistake sleeping with a married man.”
“Maybe you should be grateful that she didn't tell the police what really happened!” he snapped. Stopping at the top of the stairs, he turned back to her. “Do you realize how things would have gone if the cops had gotten involved? You'd be staring at life in jail, Beth. Life behind bars and a reputation as someone who tried to hire a goddamn hit-man! How would we have explained that to Lucy?”
“I know,” she replied, with tears in her eyes, “but -”
“So you should be extremely grateful that you're still a free woman,” he said firmly, “and the fact that I'm willing to walk out the front door and not go to the authorities... Well, you should get down on your knees and thank God that you're not rotting in a cell somewhere.” He paused. “Oh, and you should really think about your relationship with Ben, because in case you didn't realize it yet, he quite obviously killed that hit-man. I guess everyone was right about him after all, huh? Maybe it's y
our whole family that's messed-up.”
Standing in the doorway, Beth watched as Bob made his way down the stairs, and then she listened to the sound of the front door being opened and, a moment later, slammed shut again. Heading over to the door to Lucy's room, she peered through and saw, to her dismay, that the little girl staring back at her, wide-eyed in the darkness having apparently heard every word.
***
“No,” Ben replied with a sigh, “I'm not coming back, that's the whole reason I'm calling, to say...”
He paused. Sitting on the steps outside the house a little before midnight, he waited for a reply. A car drove past just as a woman pushed a buggy in the opposite direction, and for a moment he felt overwhelmed by the way the world kept turning even though terrible things were happening close by. Then again, as he watched the woman pushing her buggy around the corner, he realized that she seemed completely oblivious. Like almost everyone else in Bowley, she'd learned to either ignore the Border or to not even notice it in the first place.
“Paula?” he said finally. “Are you still there?”
He heard her clearing her throat. “I'm here.”
“Are you okay?”
“I'm just waiting for you to say what you called to say,” she replied, sounding as if she was on the verge of tears. “I should get to the store after.”
“Are you...” He could tell she was struggling, so he figured there was no need to ask about that. “Well, the thing is, I have to stay here and deal with some family things, and I don't think I'm going to be done any time soon, so -”
“I get it,” she told him. “I got it last time. I didn't think I'd hear from you again.”
He sighed.
“So say it,” she continued.
“Say what?”
“What you called to say, you goddamn -” She muttered something under her breath. “Just be a man and say it.”
“Yeah, Ben,” Caitlin said suddenly, sitting next to him. “Say it.”
He turned and stared at her. Bloodied and wounded, with a hole in her chest, she was nevertheless smiling as she watched him.
“I called to say goodbye,” he continued, immediately tensing as he heard Paula starting to sob on the other end of the line. “I called to say I love you but that I have to -”
Suddenly the line went dead. When he looked at his phone, he saw that Paula had cut the call.
“If it's any consolation,” Caitlin continued, “I'm sure she knew a day like this would come, even when she first starting dating you, or living with you, or whatever the hell you guys were doing. Banging you on a mattress in some cheap basement apartment somewhere?” She paused. “You never told your family about your girlfriend, did you?”
He stared at the phone for a moment longer. “No,” he whispered. “It never came up in conversation.”
“You're weird,” she added.
He turned to her.
“It's in your eyes. It's in everything about you. You're a weird man, Ben Freeman, and you unsettle people. They can tell you're never really paying attention to them. You're always thinking about something else, something bigger, something off in the cosmos, and that makes people not like you very much.”
“You're a ghost,” he pointed out. “You don't think you give people the chills sometimes?”
“Stop changing the subject. I heard what you were going to do tonight. We all heard.”
“All?”
“The girls and me.” She smiled. “The girls are over by the trees.”
Turning, Ben looked across the dark garden and saw several figures standing in the shadows, watching from beneath the cover of the large oak tree. He couldn't see their faces properly, but he felt a shiver pass through his body as he realized he most certainly knew their names. Most of them, anyway. There was Lindsay Horne, and Hayley Maitland, and Mel Armitage, and dead girls he'd heard of over the years. Too many to remember them all. Victims of the Border, or at least victims of things that had emerged from the Border.
“We've been having a natter,” Caitlin continued, “and we think you're the only person who can possibly succeed in getting rid of that place. We're right behind you.”
“Me?” He turned to her, shocked. “In case you didn't notice, I'm just some drifting idiot. I'm weird, remember?”
“But we love you,” she added, leaning closer and putting an arm around his shoulder. “Can you feel me touching you?”
A shiver passed through his body. “You're cold, but... Yeah, I can feel you.”
“Good. I wasn't sure if you'd be able to. What with me being dead and all.”
They sat in silence for a moment, Ben and the dead girl, both of them staring up at the vast night sky.
“It's not so bad being dead,” she said finally. “Just, you know... I thought I'd throw that out there in case it helps with the easing of your concerns.”
A faint smile crossed his lips. “Thanks.”
“And do you want to know another secret?” She stared up at the heavens, her eyes filled with wonder. “The stars look so much brighter from the other side.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked.
She smiled. “It means you don't have to be afraid when you go to the Border tonight.”
II
“Hey buddy!”
“Hey... uh... buddy. What are you doing here?”
Setting his suitcase down on Tom Lanegan's doorstep, Bob tried to work out how to explain.
“It's a long story,” he said finally. “I can tell you the whole thing, but it's the kinda story that needs a few beers first, you know? So how about it?”
Tom stared at him, clearly shocked.
“Plus,” Bob added, “I think I just left my wife, so I was hoping I could crash here. Maybe on your sofa, or in a spare room or something? You know, one guy doing another guy a favor, that kinda thing...”
He waited for a reply.
“So would that be cool?” he asked.
Tom paused, before shaking his head.
Bob stared at him. “It... wouldn't?”
“No, Bob,” Tom replied, “you can't stay here.”
“Well -”
They stood in silence for a moment.
“So,” Bob continued, “I mean, it'd only be for... I don't know, a couple of weeks at most.”
More silence.
“Or less,” Bob added. “Maybe less.”
Silence again.
Bob cleared his throat.
Tom stared at him.
Bob opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.
A car door slammed further along the street.
In the distance, a wolf howled.
“What made you think you could come to my house,” Tom said finally, “and ask for such a huge favor?”
“Well...” Feeling a little lost and hopeless, Bob was starting to realize that he'd misjudged the situation. “I just though, you know, we -”
“I'm your boss,” Tom replied, interrupting him. “I make an effort to get along with you, just like I make an effort to get along with all the people who work under me, but I'm sorry if you've mistakenly come to the conclusion that we're friends. Because we're not, Bob. It was never my intention to make you think that I considered you a friend.”
“But...” Bob paused. “You invited me to that club...”
“What club?”
“The Border.”
“Never heard of it,” Tom said firmly, even though it was clear from the look in his eyes that he was lying. “I have no idea what you're talking about, Bob, and if I had invited you to a club, and if you'd subsequently failed to get in because of some deep-seated personal inadequacies that fester in your soul, then I certainly hope you'd be smart enough and professional enough to keep your mouth shut, because hypothetically speaking, if any of this stuff had happened at all, it would have been on the basis that you're not a complete moron. Do you understand, Bob?”
Silence.
“Do you und
erstand?” Tom asked again. “Is that concept simple enough for you?”
“Well... Yeah, I guess, but...” Bob paused again. “I really, actually, could use a place to stay, even if it's just for one night.”
“There's a perfectly good motel at the edge of town.”
“Sure, but -”
“What's it called again? The name's on the tip of my tongue. I believe you used to take Candy there sometimes, for your little not-so-secret trysts.”
Bob opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out.
“Candy?” Tom called out, turning and looking over toward the stairs in his house. “What was the name of that motel Bob used to take you to when the pair of you were going at it?”
Silence.
“Candy?”
“The Sun Palace, I think,” Candy's voice replied suddenly, sounding a little hesitant.
“The Sun Palace,” Tom continued with a smile, turning back to Bob. “That's the one.”
“You're...” Bob frowned. “You're wearing a bath-robe.”
“I am,” Tom replied.
“And Candy's...” He stared up toward the door to Tom's bedroom. “Oh.”
“And I have to go out very soon,” Tom continued. “I'm going to the... Well, I'm going to have a few hours with some friends in town, and before that I need to entertain Candy, so I'm sure you'll understand that I really don't have time to stand around here talking to you.”
“Right.” Reaching down, Bob picked up his suitcase. “Sure. Of course not.” He paused. “Goodnight then, Tom.”
“Goodnight, Bob.”
Bob looked up toward the bedroom door again. “Goodnight, Candy,” he called out.
Silence.
“Goodnight, Bob,” her voice replied awkwardly.
“Merry Christmas,” he added.
Another pause.
“Merry Christmas,” she said finally.
Turning, Bob took a couple of steps toward the sidewalk, at which point he heard Tom's front door slamming shut. Glancing back, he realized he could also hear Tom running up the stairs, no doubt to rejoin Candy in the bedroom. A moment later, he heard Candy laughing. No, not laughing...
Giggling.
“What about me?” Bob asked plaintively. “Jesus Christ, you pair of...” Sighing, he turned and walked back to his car.
