The Absent Man: A Bermuda Jones Case File (The Bermuda Jones Case Files Book 2)

by Robert Enright

  The Absent Man

  A Bermuda Jones Case File

  By Robert Enright

  Copyright © Robert Enright, 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, photocopying, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

  All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Edited by Amy Jackson

  Cover by Book Beaver

  For Sophie

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  The keys jingled playfully in her hands as she tried to navigate them into the front door. Silently cursing herself, Nicole Miller took a few deep breaths before gently slotting the key between the jagged gap. A brisk chill danced across the wind; the cold November was beginning to settle over the city of Glasgow. She stopped before turning it, leaving the lock in place as she contemplated her decision one more time.

  It had been a long time since she had invited a man ‘up for coffee’. At thirty-one years old, she mentally belittled herself for having nerves when it came to sex.

  It was just sex, right?

  Her marriage to Duncan had ended over a year before and it had been at least a year prior to that since the last time she had felt the touch of a man.

  Had felt wanted.

  Behind her was a man almost too good to be true. He had been charming and attentive, a good listener encased in a muscular shell, decorated with dimples, and almost-jet-black eyes.

  Her fingers flickered, the decision almost made when she realised she didn’t know much about him. His name was Kevin Parker, and he worked in a bank. That was it. The lack of knowledge began to worry her, and she felt her grip tightening, the urge to call it a night with a quick kiss on the cheek and a rushed goodbye growing in stature.

  No, Nic! she told herself. It’s time to get back on the horse.

  She sighed, turning the key, and the door to the modest flat opened, the streetlamp sending a warm glow slithering across the wooden floor. She dropped her keys into the bowl that sat neatly on the quaint table that took shelter under a large mirror, the flick of the light switch illuminating the minimalistic ground floor flat.

  ‘This is it,’ she offered warmly, slowly taking off her jacket to reveal the dark dress that clung to her slightly chubby physique. She had hated it the moment her best friend, Leanne, had offered it to her, knowing full well she was a size too big.

  ‘Black is slimming,’ Leanne had said. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Nicole decided she was going to stuff the dress down her best friend’s throat upon return.

  Kevin slowly followed her in, his steps teetering on hesitant as he moved with an eloquence that Nicole found almost intimidating. He had looked out of place at the bar, his embarrassment at attending a speed-dating event matching her own.

  It was what had drawn her to him: the fact that he didn’t look comfortable in his own skin. His visit to her table was unmemorable, to the point that she couldn’t recall how they had spent their five minutes of conversation. When he offered to buy her a drink at the bar, she apologised for not remembering his name.

  It was Kevin.

  Wasn’t it?

  ‘It’s not much,’ she said, walking to the small cupboard in the hallway, relieving her feet from the torturous heels she had promised to destroy once alone. ‘But I think it’s homey enough.’

  She entered the front room and turned to her guest, a warm smile across her pretty face, her auburn hair tied back under a flowery clip. He turned, his chiselled face slowly exposing one of his own. She stopped, taking in what she could only describe as his ‘traditional’ features. He had short, brown hair, neatly brushed into a side parting. His eyebrows were thin and dark and his face was borderline perfect, sat atop a strong body that was wrapped up in a suit which was a tad on the baggy side.

  He wouldn’t have looked out of place when Wall Street crashed nearly a hundred years ago.

  ‘Coffee?’ she remembered, taking his nod as a sign to go and prepare a cafetiѐre, her nerves causing her to tremble as she made her way into the immaculate kitchen. It had been so long, and the thought of this handsome stranger undressing her was sending her into a slight panic.

  She flicked the kettle on and dropped the coffee granules into the glass container, carefully selecting what her mother called ‘the posh coffee’.

  She wanted to impress.

  As the water bubbled away and a small cloud of steam began to waft throughout the room, she stared at the metallic door of the fridge. It was littered with crayon drawings, the four-year-olds she taught for a living trying to capture her in their crudely drawn pictures. She loved her job; the young kids at the local school had taken a shine to her.

  As had the new year six teacher, however, she decided she needed to, as Leanne so eloquently put it, ‘get back on the horse’ before she looked for anything more substantial.

  The water turned a thick brown as it collided with the coffee beans, the thick liquid rising up the glass jug as if it were being timed. She had no real plan other than to hold his attention for the duration of the drink, and then hopefully he would make the move.

  Did she want him to?

  Clearing her mind, she marched back into the front room, a smile on her face and a tray of piping-hot coffee in her hands. As she entered, Kevin turned from the mantelpiece that ran along the top of the fireplace with a look of intrigue as he held a photo.

  ‘Is this your family?’ His words were calm, floating softly through the tension. In his hand, a photo of Nicole framed by two older, obviously proud parents.

  ‘Aye.’ Her Scottish accent forced itself to the surface, causing her to chuckle with embarrassment.

  Kevin didn’t notice, his dark eyes transfixed on the photo.

  ‘My mum and dad are very nice.’

  He nodded. Silent. She placed the tray down and looked up at him hopefully, disappointed that his gaze hadn’t wandered in her direction. As he stood staring, a creeping unease slowly began to clutch at Nicole while she poured a coffee.

  ‘Do you have any family?’ she asked, desperate to break the silence and to try to steer the evening back on course.

  ‘Not anymore.’ His words were heavy as he gently replaced the photo. ‘Not for a long time.’

  He slowly walked to the sofa and sat down next to her, his movements again asto
unding her with how rigid he was. She offered him a mug which he accepted with a fake smile, the sadness of his previous statement hanging in the air like a morning fog.

  The only sound for the next few minutes was the ticking of the clock above the fireplace and the wind clattering against the window. They sat, exchanging the odd glance that was met with a smile by Nicole. Kevin seemed nervous, unable to maintain eye contact.

  He had seemed so charming at the bar, Nicole thought, chalking it up to nerves. While she was growing in confidence for the night to end romantically, she assumed he needed to be guided. That his bravado in the bar was simply an act.

  Was he really charming at the bar? She tried to recall. Was she just desperate to remove the feeling of failure that she had pinned to herself, ever since she caught Duncan and his secretary in their old bed?

  ‘You seem distracted,’ he stated, very forthright. He placed the cup down. ‘I should go.’

  ‘No, wait.’ Nicole shot to her feet as quickly as he did, pacing quickly to the front door of her flat to head him off. ‘What is wrong?’

  He didn’t answer, pulling his blazer over his pale yellow shirt, his face stern.

  ‘I need to leave.’ He reached for the handle. ‘I’m afraid if I stay, you will only get hurt.’

  She caught his hand in her own, guiding it and him away from the door, her eyes finally grabbing the attention of his and the magnificent darkness they held.

  ‘Why? Is there someone else?’ she muttered feebly, scorning herself for feeling pathetic.

  ‘There is.’ His words were straight to the point. ‘She was taken from me many years ago. They said I would find her again. I just needed to search for her.’

  She gently squeezed his hands as she smiled. ‘I’m not afraid of being hurt, and I’m never going to make you compare me to the one you lost.’ She gently brushed the back of his hand against her soft, red cheek. ‘But maybe, maybe I can help you find something?’

  He stared at her, his classically handsome face emotionless. She leaned in, his scent almost as intoxicating as his pupilless eyes. Her hand slid around his waist, reaching for the chain that swung from the door. She latched it, the message very clear. She looked up at him.

  ‘Give me a moment.’

  She leant up, her lips pressed against his as she pushed against him. His hands slowly grazed her shapely hips, and she felt her heart start to race.

  This was actually going to happen.

  She freed herself, quickly walking towards the door to the bedroom, purposely ensuring she wiggled slightly as she walked. It needed to happen now before she changed her mind. Nicole entered and quickly slid out of the tight dress, her body thanking her for freeing it from confinement. Reaching to her hair, she ruffled it up, pulling the rose-covered clip from it and hoping for a more alluring look. Quickly spraying herself with perfume, she applauded herself for having the confidence in wearing her new lacy underwear.

  She imagined his strong, powerful arms wrapped around her.

  The smell of his body.

  The potential to feel wanted again.

  She carefully lowered herself onto the bed, adjusting slightly to a more alluring position.

  This was it.

  It was time to get back on the horse.

  ‘Come in,’ she called, oblivious to what truly waited for her on the other side of the door.

  The urge to leave had been terrific.

  As his eyes watched her walk towards the bedroom, he ignored her attempts to allure him with her stride. As she disappeared behind the bedroom door, he slowly bowed his head, gently shaking it.

  He would never see her the same again.

  That look of innocence.

  His neck arched to the side, his eyes locking onto the chain of the door. He could spare her feelings, silently unlatching it and walking away, and the only pain she would feel would be rejection.

  Nothing more.

  Not like the others.

  Not like all the others.

  With a judder that betrayed his humanity, Kevin Parker slowly reached a hand towards the chain, the allure of the brisk night air that would greet him growing. He wanted his skin to bathe in the glow of the streetlights.

  This one would be spared.

  His fingers cut through the air, ready to clasp it, when Nicole’s voice broke his trail of thought.

  ‘Come in,’ she called.

  He froze on the spot.

  The words cut through his body, slicing every muscle until it felt like he would collapse. Unfortunately for Nicole, they would only serve as a reminder for his true existence. His real reason for being.

  His need to see ‘her’ again.

  The fingers retracted from the door, the idea of a moonlight walk and Nicole’s survival slowly collapsing to nothing. His eyes closed as he took a deep breath, turning on his heel, and walking blind towards the door to her bedroom. A mere inch or so from the wooden frame, he stopped, his eyes bursting into life.

  The black pupils began to break as if they were leaking into the whites of his eyes and slowly filling them.

  Within seconds, both of his eyeballs were entirely jet-black.

  He was Kevin Parker no more.

  He was the one they had lied to. Had taken everything from. He was not part of their world anymore and could no longer understand their need to interfere.

  To take her from him.

  On the other side of the door, the young woman lay on the bed, trembling slightly with a cocktail of nerves and anticipation. The thin wooden panel that separated them kept her safe for a few more moments. That was all he would allow.

  In one fluid motion, the sole of his foot clattered into the door, flinging it open with a large crack, the hinges powerless to retain order. As the door collided with the wall, he stepped in, confronting the terrified, half-naked woman before him. All of her trust and attraction had vanished instantly as the fear sat her upright.

  She opened her mouth to scream.

  His hand wrapped around her throat, catching the sound before it could escape. With his fingers tightening, he lifted her clean off the floor, her body swinging like a pendulum in a terrified grandfather clock.

  She drew his gaze, and the colour drained from her face. His eyes were jet-black, as if staring into a dark void. The corners of his mouth twisted into a snarl, the gentleman replaced by a feral beast that belonged elsewhere.

  Not of this world.

  Kevin tilted his head as he stared at her, examining the human before him. Tears raced down her cheeks, each one leaving a small, dark trail of cheap mascara. His gaze fell, his eyes clasping onto her chest, her breasts bulging over a very helpful lace bra.

  She began to cough and splutter, trying her best to force words from her mouth. ‘Please … let … me … go,’ she begged. Urine began trickling down the inside of her leg and gently rapping into a fearful puddle below. Slowly, he began to lower her, drawing her terrified face towards him.

  ‘I must find her.’ His words were whispered, tinged in sadness.

  ‘Who?’ she mustered, the air struggling through the grip of his powerful fingers. Her eyes begged for her release.

  He looked away, his slick, side-parted hair shimmering in the lamplight.

  ‘I am sorry.’

  Before she knew what was happening, Nicole found herself soaring towards her mattress, the springs absorbing the impact. His powerful arm still held her down, his fingers pressing her windpipe like a tube of toothpaste. He rose his other hand above her chest as he kneeled beside her.

  She stared at him in fear, accepting her fate.

  His black eyes conveyed little sympathy.

  She felt the searing pain in her chest only briefly, saw a slight splash of blood before everything went black and she left the world.

  She would never return.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’

  With his breathing struggling to keep up with his feet as he raced to his car, Franklin �
�Bermuda’ Jones burst through the doors to the third floor of the London car park. Dimly lit with the pitiful glow of the halogen lights, his car seemed further than he remembered.

  He needed to get in and get the hell out of there.

  As he raced across the concrete, he took a few moments to contemplate how he was spending his Saturday night. While most thirty-four-year-old men were either out drinking or cuddled up with the family for film night, he was racing away from a creature our world could never comprehend.

  It was only because of his damned curse that he could see it.

  That he could see the Otherside.

  Born with a genetic condition known as ‘the Knack’, Bermuda was gifted the sight of the world that encased our own. Invisible to the naked eye, the inhabitants of the Otherside, known as Others, walked freely throughout his life, yet he was the only one who could see them meandering through the alleyways and dark corners of London.

  The only one who watched their world encompass ours.

  The only one who knew the truth.

  Soon the scepticism had given way to concern, and he had lost everything. His wife had left him, watching with flowing tears as they took him to his padded cell. Certified as insane, it’s difficult to tell the world you’re not crazy when they have concluded you must be. A crazy person claiming sanity is moot – like an obese person saying they hardly eat a thing.

  That was a long time ago. Locked away in that padded cell, cursing the world for their mistake. Losing the respect and love of a woman he would die for and destroying the bond with his beloved daughter.

  His Chloe.

  As he raced to his car, he thought about her blond hair dancing in the wind, the toothless grin on her six-year-old face as he pushed her on the swing. The slow rebuild of their relationship in the secrecy of carefully planned meetings. Away from the eyes that watched from the shadows.

  The eyes of the Otherside.

  Working for the Behind the Curtain Organisation (BTCO), the authority that managed the truce between our world and theirs, certainly came with the animosity you would expect. Being the only agent with the ability to physically interact with them painted one hell of a target on your back.