by A. I. Nasser
“And you’re a teacher?” Fiona asked.
Alan nodded. “English literature,” he said. “Been doing it for three years now.”
Fiona gave him another one of her comical, raised-eyebrows expression. “Three years,” she repeated. “That’s really something. I’m a little surprised, though.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, I know Rachel Adams pretty well, and I can tell you for a fact that three years mean nothing to her when it comes to experience. So, I’m a little surprised she hired you.”
“She wasn’t the one who hired me.”
“No?”
“Nope,” Alan said, shaking his head. “Deborah did. She’s the one who interviewed me.”
Fiona chuckled. “Is that a fact?” Alan noted the amusement in her voice. “The two of you were like two peas in a pot when you were younger. Do you remember when you two called the police because you thought someone had kidnapped your father because he was late from work?”
“I remember.”
“How old were you then?” Fiona asked. “Seven? Eight?”
“Ten,” Alan corrected. “A year before my sister disappeared.”
Fiona’s smile suddenly disappeared as the room seemed to grow remarkably smaller. Alan knew what the woman was getting at, reminding him of how much of his childhood mischief she had put up with. She was fishing, and he was getting sick of it.
The mention of his sister’s disappearance had put a quick end to the games. Fiona was suddenly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat as she put out her cigarette and immediately lit another one. Alan almost smiled at her uneasiness.
Fiona Bright had been the first at the scene when his parents had called in the disappearance. Alan remembered it clearly, how he had run home screaming, terrified, his mind racing as it tried to make sense of what he had seen. He was inconsolable, his words nonsensical to everyone except him, and even Fiona had been skeptical.
For an eleven-year-old who had looked up to Fiona Bright for years, her reaction had been a cruel slap to the face he had never forgotten.
“Why did you come back to Melington, Alan?”
Alan smiled, happy that the woman had finally gotten to the point and the games had stopped.
“I came home, Sheriff,” Alan said. “This is my home, after all.”
“You’ve been gone for what? Twenty years?” Fiona pressed. “Why now?”
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to come back,” Alan said. “My father was the one who had wanted nothing to do with Melington. Not when everyone here let him down. He was a member of the Council, a descendent of one of the founding families, and you all turned your back on him when he needed you the most. To him, he couldn’t care any less about this town.”
“And you do?” Fiona asked, the eyes looking out at him cold.
“I have fond memories of Melington,” Alan said, “at least for the most part. I’m over what happened. I just want to live out the rest of my life in the place where I grew up, teaching a subject I love.”
“And that’s why you were breaking and entering?”
“I explained that, Sheriff,” Alan said. “It’s an innocent misunderstanding, and you know me well enough to know I’m not a criminal.”
“I know an eleven-year-old boy who has grown up too far away from here for me to make any judgments.”
Alan sighed. “I assure you, Sheriff, I’m still that same boy, only a lot older.” He leaned in and looked Fiona straight in the eye. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
***
Deborah Adams stared at her cell phone from her curled up position on the living room couch. A part of her was waiting for it to ring, the dreadful Caller ID displaying her mother’s name as the phone vibrated with promise of disaster.
Deborah still hadn’t made up her mind.
That wasn’t true. She had actually made up her mind years before, and her decision was still the same. However, it was the opposite of what her mother was expecting. Only this time, there was an ultimatum, and Deborah began to worry what turning down her mother’s offer might mean.
Who cares what it meant? Deborah frowned as she added gasoline to the already burning flames inside her. Who cares what her mother wanted? Deborah only needed to worry about Team Debbie. The rest was simply white noise.
Still, she hesitated to pick up the phone herself and call her mother. After all these years, and despite the lengths Deborah had gone to be her own person, Rachel Adams was still a daunting person to deal with, even over the phone. Deborah felt torn, desperate to talk to anyone who could possibly make the decision for her and spare her the agony she was going through.
Keys fumbled in the lock, and Deborah watched the front door open as Michael Cole let himself in, carrying his gym bag over his shoulder and talking on his phone. He dropped the bag by the door and almost walked past her without so much as a hello before he noticed the look on her face.
“Are you okay?” he asked, burying the phone’s mouthpiece in his shoulder.
Deborah nodded. “I’m fine,” she said.
“Cool.”
She watched him walk into the kitchen, picking up where he had left off, and gritted her teeth as she heard him open the refrigerator and rummage through it.
From the Journal of Jeremiah Carter.
Melington. October 1st, 1826.
I believe I have finally found our man.
I cannot write from the excitement, although I strongly believe that is not quite the correct word to use in such context. My God, I have found our man!
I have been fighting the urge to race over to Chairman Cole’s house and share the news with him, opting to wait for tomorrow when I would have the entire Council’s attention. I truly believe we can stop any further search.
Copper Tibet. What a peculiar name.
I had never seen the man before, and even while riding up to the small cottage he inhabits seemed like quite a trek. He lives close to the town borders, almost outside Melington, yet not quite. From afar, his residence already spoke of grave secrets and hidden dangers. It is a dark place where he lives, and even when inside, I could feel the heaviness of evil in the air.
The man himself is quite a sight, large and bulky, a frame that can cast a shadow over any regular man would he stand beside him. I remember a hesitation when first seeing him, a need to turn my horse around and retreat. So strong was this man’s daunting presence. It took every thread of willpower within me to carry out my duties.
He was amiable enough and even offered me tea, which I was forced to decline. There was no trust for this man, and I did my best to avoid unnecessary amenities. I thought it best to get my interrogation over and done with.
He was reluctant to answer many of my questions, uneasy despite his bulking presence. I immediately knew he had something to hide, and it is this feeling beyond doubt that makes me certain he is behind the current kidnappings. I tried to remain calm, even when I pictured his large hands on my Allison. I hate to think of what a man like that could do to such a frail child.
His story does not match with my knowledge of town history, or with any events I can remember. He claims to be the third generation of Tibet’s to have lived in Melington, his grandfather having had moved their family here during the Revolution. I cannot remember any such name, and his explanation that their land had not always been a part of Melington until only recently seems quite impossible.
I will look it up with Council Member Bright tomorrow. He keeps meticulous records of all happenings in Melington, a duty he has inherited from his father and in my opinion is continuing quite well.
I have a third name on my list, a young woman who had arrived in Melington six months ago. Abbey knows her well, and even surprised me with a small smile as she recounted her meeting with the woman in the market a few weeks before. Abbey has nothing but wonderful things to say about the woman, and it only confirms my suspicions about Copper Tibet more.
I must contain myself. I
will share my information with the Council tomorrow and complete my tasks as promised. We will follow procedures and compare our notes, but I am of the opinion that, in the end, all will just be a waste of time.
I have found our culprit, and his name is Copper Tibet.
Chapter 8
Daniel Cole hid in his office.
Of course, the reason he had given his secretary was that he was overwhelmed with work and did not want to be disturbed until further notice. However, he could fool everyone around, but not himself.
He had been shaken by last night’s visit, his ankle still throbbing where the uninvited guest’s hand had gripped him. He had checked it in the morning, hoping that there would be nothing to remind him of what had happened other than the echoing of that raspy voice in his ears, but he had been disappointed.
The flesh had turned blue where fingers had pressed down into his skin, the bruises perfectly aligned. He could feel the pulsing of his veins through the skin, each beat a throbbing reminder that he had not been alone in that living room no matter how much he tried to convince himself that the encounter had all been in his head.
Daniel Cole shuddered. He hated being the middle man, the voice of the darkness that relayed what needed to be done to the rest of the Council members. He recounted the number of times he had secretly prayed for that burden to be alleviated and passed to someone else, someone who did not appreciate what he was going through for this town and the well-being of its founding families.
The well-being of his family.
His mind wandered to his son, and Daniel Cole found himself dreading the day when Michael would be the one taking part in these encounters. Daniel remembered the first time his father had passed the burden onto him, the ritual they had gone through near the old maple tree out at the edge of their lands. The memories left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he could never forget the first time that hand had grabbed him by the leg and had spoken to him through the darkness, the raspy voice like nails across a blackboard promising that the two of them were in for ‘a lot of fun’.
It was a haunting memory that still gave him nightmares, despite the number of times he had come in contact with last night’s ‘guest’. His father had assured him that it would become easier, but that had been a terrible lie. It hit him hard each time, and lingered like a bad dream.
The ringing of his cell phone brought Daniel quickly back from his thoughts, and he quickly answered once he saw Fiona Bright’s name on the caller ID.
“Alan Carter was at the Collins apartment.” Fiona hadn’t waited for an answer, immediately bombarding Daniel with the bad news. He hated that about her.
“What has been done about it?” he asked, the irritation in his voice apparent.
“I kept him here for the night,” Fiona said, “but let him go a few hours ago. He’s probably at school right now.”
“Why the hell did you do that?” Daniel hissed. “That’s breaking and entering. We could have been rid of him forever.”
“I know,” Fiona said, “but it’s only a misdemeanor, and he had good reason. We need a better plan.”
“And I assume you have one?”
Silence followed, assuring Daniel that Fiona had, in fact, not thought about what to do next. As always, these decisions were being thrown into his lap. He sighed heavily and rubbed his brow, easing the pain that had suddenly appeared there.
“This is not good,” he muttered.
“Another thing,” Fiona said, and Daniel braced himself for more bad news. “I had my doubts as to why Rachel would hire him in the school, but it turns out Deborah is responsible for that. Those two were close twenty years back, and I assume they’ll rehash the past.”
Daniel waited for Fiona to get to the point.
“Your son’s still seeing the Adams girl, right?”
“Against my better judgment,” Daniel confirmed. He had never failed to voice his disapproval of the relationship to Michael, but the boy was as stubborn as his mother. A character trait that was bound to be his undoing.
“Well, you better keep an eye on that,” Fiona said. “I know how Rachel feels about what we’re doing, and you can bet Deborah won’t ever be on board with any of this. Having her and Alan together could spell disaster for all of us.”
“Rachel can handle her daughter,” Daniel said.
“The way you can handle Michael?”
Daniel balled his fist in anger, biting back his tongue. The Sheriff was one of the few people in town he could truly rely on, and her role in everything was more important than anyone else’s. She had been able to handle the Collins case, and every case before that, quite efficiently, and she knew how much he relied on her. It was one of the reasons she was so bold.
“Listen, Daniel,” Fiona said, exhaling loudly, Daniel imagining her sitting at her desk and chain smoking her Lucky Strikes. “Nip this one in the bud, okay. This can easily get out of control.”
“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Sheriff,” Daniel said, his tone firm as he quickly reasserted his position. “You are in no position to tell me what to do. I know what’s required of me, as you know what’s required of you. I doubt we need to constantly remind each of that.”
There was silence on the other line and Daniel could tell that Fiona was carefully calculating her next words. “Fine,” she finally said. “Fair enough. I’ll keep an eye on Alan for now.”
“And I will talk to Michael,” Daniel replied, giving the Sheriff a small win to keep her placated. “Have a nice day, Sheriff.”
Daniel Cole hung up without waiting for a reply.
***
Alan was surprised when he heard knocking on his front door and opened to find Deborah standing outside, a wide smile on her face a two grocery bags hanging by her side.
He had tried his best to avoid the woman as much as possible throughout the day, steering clear of the hallways nearest to her office like a student who had something to hide. He hadn’t been in any mood to socialize, working as best as he could to try and maintain an amiable spirit during his classes. The students and staff were still not accustomed to him, so it was easy to slip under the radar until the final bell rang and he escaped as quickly as he could.
His encounter with the Sheriff the night before had left a lingering feeling of discomfort in him, Fiona having had kept him with her as long as she possibly could before finally giving up on getting any valuable information out of him. Recounting his past and filling her in on mundane facts that would keep her satisfied for the moment had been hard enough, not to mention his efforts to remain calm and composed through it all.
It was the fact that he had been caught that bothered him the most. He had watched the apartment building from afar for almost an hour before finally making his move, and there had been no signs that anyone had had any interest in the Collins apartment before he had broken in.
Fiona’s sudden appearance bothered him, and he wondered what could possibly have brought the Sheriff to the Collins’ place that late at night. Fiona was hiding something, he was sure, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Can I come in?” Deborah asked, raising the bags in her hands higher so he could see she brought gifts.
Alan stepped aside and let her through, chuckling as she shouldered him in the chest playfully before making her way to the kitchen. He closed the door and followed, impressed that the woman still remembered the house after all these years, immediately making herself at home as she set the bags on the kitchen counter, took off her jacket and hung it in the small coat closet by the kitchen’s back door.
“So, where were you all day?” she asked, flashing Alan her award winning smile as she opened cupboards and closed them.
“Classes,” Alan replied curtly, frowning as he tried to figure out what she was doing.
Deborah finally pulled out a pot and pan from the cupboard next to the sink and set them squarely on the stove, gesturing to the bags she had brought and looking at Alan expectantly. Alan
moved to the groceries and started pulling one item out after the other, taking note of the things she had bought, smiling at the familiarity of their childhood dinner preferences. He wanted to tell her that he had lost his appetite for chicken a long time ago, but decided against it. She was, after all, cooking dinner, and who was he to complain?
“Between classes, I meant,” Deborah was saying. “I looked for you everywhere.”
“Didn’t know I was that popular,” Alan smirked.
Deborah shot him an irritated look that bordered on humorous, quickly setting up her workstation as she handed him a knife. “Smart, Carter,” she scoffed. “I see you haven’t lost your humor.”
Alan reached for the bag of vegetables and began working, avoiding Deborah’s gaze as he smiled to himself. He had to admit, he missed her a lot, and having her here now in his kitchen, cooking dinner and bickering the way they had when they were younger made him instantly feel at ease. His eyes briefly looked up at the door to the garage that he had left slightly ajar, and made a mental note to close it as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
“Mother’s been asking about you, too,” Deborah said. “So, your fan base is obviously growing. She needs to see you first thing in the morning before your classes.”
“Does she come in that early?”
“My mother unlocks the front doors,” Deborah smirked as she rinsed out the chicken breasts in the sink.
Alan hadn’t met Rachel Adams since he had been hired, and after last night’s run-in with Fiona, he wasn’t too hot on tomorrow’s meeting. He knew that it wouldn’t be a problem; he had trained himself well for situations like these, already knowing exactly what to say and what not to. It was the unwanted attention that bothered him. He had meant to keep a low profile, and that wasn’t off to a good start.
