by Aven Jayce
I move the sheets to see Abram’s lifeless body and shake my head at the sight of his open neck. Gruesome. They always look different in the sunlight.
“I really lost my shit.”
“That man ruined many lives. Don’t second-guess yourself this morning.” She pushes the cart into the laundry room, hides it behind the door, and asks what we’re going to do with him.
“Living next to a lake that never freezes has its benefits. I didn’t plan on going boating this month, but I think I’ll take Jack for a scenic ride before dinner, seeing how eager he is to be involved. One body on my property was fine, but not two, and not him.” I point toward the laundry room. “Besides, it’s time for a discussion about life and death with my son, and I’ll have Abram and the body parts from the septic tank in tow as examples.”
“Yeah, I forgot about the other guy. Just be careful, especially with Jack.”
“I’ll make him wear a life preserver.” We walk into the corridor; curious to see what’s left to clean.
“I meant be careful he doesn’t push you into the freezing water,” she warns, following me to the door.
I ignore the comment and swipe my card, wiping a small spot of blood from the doorframe before entering the room.
It’s light. The blinds are open and fresh linens cover the bed. Pieces of carpet have been cut and removed. The nightstand and other furniture are impeccable. I’m impressed.
We pull the sheets back to reveal a white mattress.
“Holy crap,” she says. “Either he flipped it or your son’s a magician.”
“I’ll still need to have it replaced.”
She tugs the sheets further down, exposing more and more of the mattress, stopping at the area that contained his blood.
“He cut it. I was right that he flipped it over, but there’s a chunk missing where the blood must’ve been. Clever kid.”
“There was a lot. I can’t imagine he got it all.”
“Looks like it to me.” She nods toward the table. “And what’s all that?”
His open suitcase is there, along with the detective badge, a gun set atop a pile of papers, and prescription bottles on display in a line.
“I’m surprised Jack didn’t walk off with the gun.”
“No shit,” I say. “But it does make me wonder what he did take.”
“Didn’t you look through this last night?” she asks, reading the labels on the meds. “A diuretic... sedatives... hmm, antidepressants and more sedatives.”
“I needed to get the fuck out of here. What the hell is this?” I move the badge and pick up the top paper, letting her read along over my shoulder. She makes a questioning noise and once I catch on to what I’m holding, I put it quickly out of sight. “Get dressed and figure out where everyone’s at,” I request faintly. “And take Sophia’s cell with you. I’m sure she’s looking for it.”
“Is that—”
“Jules,” I urge. “Give me some time here.”
She steps away slowly, then leaves the room without sound or protest, understanding how serious this is... far worse than I ever could’ve imagined. Even for a guy like me, this is beyond disturbing.
I slump into the chair next to the table, getting lost in the sound of the heater. “Room, you have permission to distract me from this evil,” I say to the empty space, looking for a diversion—something to lead me in another direction, to another place, somewhere other than Abram’s life.
The curtains sway, drawing me to the outside view of my cold and desolate property. Grey wintry clouds have moved in, bringing large snowflakes that smother out the sun. It’s a drastic shift from thirty minutes ago. Even the pine needles have become a ghostly white. And I imagine the temperature has dropped with the loss of the sun. Everything has changed. A split second, and a heated morning has turned to ice.
The paper is back in my hand. I read through it, stopping to take deep breaths, my hand alternating between covering my mouth and rubbing my forehead as I fall deeper into a troubled state. Page after page, learning more about this man’s life, trying to comprehend all of this... I just don’t get it. People can call me an evil shit if they want—say that I’m fucked in the head and unstable, but Jules is right, I’m nothing like Paul or Abram... thank fucking God I’m nothing like either one of them.
Compare the slimy assholes that deserved to leave this earth by my hands to innocent young lives that my dad made a profit from, both my dads for that matter, and the difference between right and wrong is clear. An eye for an eye in my book is not the same type of criminal wickedness as senseless trade, based on sex or age.
The pages before me are independent adoption papers and I can tell they’re not legit. Abram’s name is signed as a witness at the bottom of every one of them. It’s a total scam. As a detective, I’m sure families found him trustworthy and the process authentic. A detective helped these parents find the right family for their child.
There’s also documentation of his profits from the exchanges, but what bothers me the most is the adoptions are for a specific gender and age... my mind wants to block that part out... not only did Abram make a profit from this, that’s shitty in itself, but on top of that, it was a form of sex trafficking. I’m sure the families weren’t even aware that this was happening. Either that, or the parents didn’t give a rat’s ass and sold their kids to make a buck... the addresses are all from dirt-poor neighborhoods... it’s possible some of these kids were never even missed.
“Mark?”
Jules stands in the entryway, looking for permission to enter. I wave her in and toss the papers on the table.
“I know you wanted to be alone, but I had to come back. Were those adoption papers?”
I nod.
“For you and Paul? I saw Abram’s name on the bottom.”
“No. Random boys from where I grew up, not us, we actually sprouted from the monster. We weren’t sold by him.”
She sighs and sits next to me, taking a look, flipping through page after page. “There’re so many.”
“At least a hundred. He made twenty grand off each one... is Jack downstairs?”
“Downstairs, wide awake, and wearing a suit.”
“A suit?”
“Yeah, he’s eating with my parents and asking my father how he can become an embalmer.”
I rub my forehead and sigh. “I suppose that’s the perfect profession for him. Legal at least.”
“The rest of your family’s also at breakfast.”
“It’s your family too.”
After setting the papers down, she looks at me adoringly, holding my hand in a firm grip. “I’m sorry all over again. I don’t know how many times I can say that before it loses all meaning.”
“And I don’t know if I can do anything about this, or why it was even brought to my attention. I guess it’s all a power trip.”
“I’d say so.”
Wind gusts into the window, causing a low vibrating noise to sound throughout the room. The shuddering glass imitates my shaky pulse as I detach from her hand.
“I fucking hate this shit.” I tap the papers. “It’s exactly why I wanted out of the porn industry.”
A heavier snow begins to fall, darkening the room. In the mountains, a foot of snow can fall in a short amount of time. It worries me that she’s going out, even if it’s for good reason.
“Stay here today,” I request, feeling anxious. “The weather’s unpredictable and the roads will be icy.”
“I can’t scratch these plans, besides it’s only a ten-minute drive downtown. And if the weather’s too extreme for a girl’s day out, you’re not going out on a boat.”
“You can go tomorrow.”
“Can you dump the bodies tomorrow?” She pauses, peering out the window and scrunching her nose at the scene. “Shit, that does look bad... I can’t cancel though. It has to be done today. How about we make it a quick trip and I invite my friends here for the even
ing? We were going to end the day with a dinner, but we’ll cut the trip short and eat here instead.”
“Just tell me where the hell you’re going,” I demand, beginning to place the items in the suitcase. With the scene still fresh in my mind, I feel restless and need to get the fuck out of here.
“It’s the holiday season, Mark. Duh. We’re going Christmas shopping. And I won’t ruin the surprise by telling you what your gifts are, now drop it.”
“I’m sure you can order everything online without leaving our front door.”
“Why are you such a curmudgeon about these things? And not just you, men in general are assholes when it comes to shopping. There’s much more to it than just purchasing gifts. Decorative lights, holiday music, the smell of burning wood and cookies, plus being out in the snow, that’s all part of the experience. It’s festive and makes you feel warm and cuddly inside.”
“I’m never warm and cuddly.” I close the suitcase and take a final look around the room.
“Ha, baloney. I’ll try to record you on my cell next time you act that way.”
“Not gonna happen. And if that’s the experience you want, you have it all right here.”
“Ugh.”
“I’m serious. Why don’t you and your friends sit in the lobby and shop on your laptops while admiring my decorations and the lights on my tree? You can experience the snow from the hotel windows, listen to the holiday music on the lobby speakers, inhale the scent of burning wood from the massive fireplace, and order a plate of cookies from the restaurant.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Men are so fucking stupid,” she teases as we leave the room. “Why don’t you launch the boat in the pool and get rid of the bodies there? That’s similar to going out on the lake. You have everything you need right here.”
“You can’t compare what I said about shopping to the disposal of bodies.”
“Perhaps not... so what are you going to do with that?” she asks, looking at the suitcase.
“Go over a few more things before storing it in my safe. Then, in time, I’ll burn it.”
“What about your sister?”
“I’ll tell her the cane man is gone and that she no longer has to worry.”
“And what about you?”
“I’m not worried.”
“No.” She rolls her eyes. “I mean, what about all of this?”
“Well, I’ll be tainted by it for a while, that’s for damn sure, but remarkably, I also believe all of this verifies how significant my life is. I’m a man who keeps shitheads like this one,” I swing the suitcase, “out of society and away from innocent people. This kill is the ultimate confirmation of that. I was young and immature when I set foot in Paul’s domain and clearly should’ve killed him back then, but now that I’m older and have better wits about me, it’s clear I’ve got the biggest brass balls in this family. I’m in a class all by myself.”
She grins playfully at my emotional toughness. “I love it when arrogant Mark appears. Missed you.”
It doesn’t matter whether I’m serious or I’m putting on a show, as long as it makes her smile.
“When are your parents taking off? I guess I should say goodbye.”
“Ya think?” Her head shakes. “They’re staying another day.”
“What for?” I ask with a curious look as I open our suite.
“For one, you need to apologize. I’m not allowing my parents to walk out of here when you and my dad are on such bad terms.”
“We’re fine.
“You’re not fine.”
“Okay, if I go downstairs right now and say I’m sorry, will they check out?”
“Mark!”
“I’m kidding. Fuck. I’m not going down there anyway, I need to get to work and clear my head. But if you want, we can try dinner with them again after Jack and I return from our boat trip.”
She looks at me like I’m insane.
“What? It wasn’t that bad last night.”
Still glaring.
“Okay, maybe dinner didn’t go so well. What if I promise to behave and we give it another shot?”
“You shouldn’t have to promise, you should just do it. Didn’t you just mention something about being older and having better wits about yourself?”
“Touché, my love.”
She returns to our entryway. “I’m going back down to eat breakfast. Food is calling my name. Oh, did you hear the kitchen is missing a turkey and some other stuff? You think one of our staff is stealing? I mean, how can someone walk off with a whole bird without being seen?”
“I’ll check the security cams when I have time, but it’s not that important considering everything else that’s going on. I’m sure we’ll figure it out eventually. And if it’s a turkey, that’s usually a sign someone needs to feed their family.”
“Let’s add a larger holiday bonus to the checks this week to make sure people have enough to enjoy a decent holiday meal.”
“That’s fine. I’ll take care of it today. Remind me when you’re coming home again? Noon?”
“Three!”
“I’ll expect you at two.”
“Three!” She closes the door in laughter. “Three!” I hear her shout as she walks down the corridor.
“Two o’clock it is, beautiful! Don’t mess with the power of twos!”
Lucky number two... two of us will take two dead men out on a lake that’s twenty-two miles long on this twentieth day of the twelfth month. It can’t be done tomorrow. We have to do it today.
KNAVE
“ACCORDING TO DICTIONARY.COM, knave means an unprincipled, untrustworthy, or dishonest person, although in earlier times it was used as a term for a male servant.” Jack scrolls through his new iPhone, a gift I picked up for him when I replaced mine during my lunch break earlier today. It’s keeping him occupied as I continue to steer the boat the two miles back to shore.
He did well for a first-timer—following directions precisely, securing the concrete blocks like a champ, and when the time came, he happily rolled the two men into the water—Abram as one big lump, and the other guy in pieces, wrapped in a large tarp. He mentioned his disappointment in how quickly they sank and that they weren’t still alive when they dropped in. He said they both deserved to die horrible, painful deaths, especially his grandfather.
“Are you saying you feel like my servant?” I ask, pulling my winter hat over my ears.
“Nope. Just shooting the shit. You want to hear some of the synonyms?”
“Sure.”
The moisture in his breath hits the cold air and a small cloud forms with each word. “Fraud. Bastard. Lowlife. Rascal. Scamp. Scoundrel. Swindler. And this one, Dad, this one is my second favorite... villain. Villain is such a fascinating word, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is, son.”
The snow stopped at noon and Jules made it back to the hotel safe and sound, bringing her friends along for dinner as we discussed. They’re at the bar for now, waiting for me to return so we can all eat together, and that means her parents too.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what my favorite synonym of the word is? I said villain was my second favorite. You listening, or not?”
“Oh, sorry. What’s your favorite synonym for knave?”
“Jack.” He grins. “Isn’t that cool? I never thought of it before this moment, but I’m like the Jack on a deck of playing cards. Your little soldier.” He bows with one hand raised in the air. “At your service, my master.”
“You said you were just shooting the shit? So now it has meaning?”
“Tell me you’re not amused by all of this. At least give me some praise that I thought to look it up.”
“Why did you anyway?” I slow the boat as we approach the dock. “What goes through that pea-sized brain of yours, stuff like this?”
“I’ll pretend your pea comment didn’t just hurt my feelings. Don’t y
ou get curious about things? Or are you too old? I hear words I don’t recognize all the time, like on cable and online. I want to find out what they mean. Do you think you already know everything?”
“I get it. I get it.”
“From now on, you can refer to me as your dishonest, swindling, bastard knave. Or your servant boy is fine too.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Nothing’s funny, is it?”
“I find humor in everything and nothing at the same time.”
He sighs and sets his hand in the water. “Fuck, that’s ice cold. How long do you think a man could survive in this lake if he fell in?”
“At this time of the year? I’d say a minute, tops.”
“If I push you in and tell the cops you accidently fell over the side, you think they’d believe me?”
I offer a side-eye with a taut mouth and a look of disgust over his comment. “You have an odd sense of humor, buddy. Why don’t you work on being witty instead of sounding like a dumbass? You’ll pick up a lot more women that way.”
“A girlfriend, plus some side chicks and honey dips,” he laughs.
“There you go again. And trust me, one’s enough. You don’t need extras on the side. Don’t be a cheating dipshit.” I cut the motor and tie the boat to the dock.
“Lighten up, would ya? I’m sixteen and grounded... trying to make the best of things right now.”
I help him step onto the platform and we start to walk toward the truck. “Watch your footing. The dock may be icy under this fresh snowfall.”
“Are you sad?” he asks, grabbing my wrist as he slips.
I put my arm over his shoulder and pull him close; making sure he doesn’t fall off the edge.
“You know my friends back home in Philly used to call me Jester. It was a decent nickname, better than when you refer to me as a little prick.”
I open the passenger door and he slides in, continuously talking. His behavior’s playful, like it was years ago when we were still living in Vegas.
“I have fun clowning around, but you think I’m obnoxious. Most people would’ve figured out by now it’s how I hide my depression... I don’t think you get that.”
