The Silent Boy (Emma McPherson Book 1)

by A. J. Flynn

  Karl’s expression was hurt as he started to speak, but Ella wasn’t to be stopped. Her face was pinched with rage, as she continued to spit words at Marla.

  “You make me sick. You live in a perpetual state of needing your mother, even though you’re almost thirty and twice a mother yourself. You want her so much that it means nothing to you to hurt my boy then turn around and lie to your own husband. If ever there was a case of arrested development, it would be you, and I think Karl and the children would be better off if you ran away to your precious mother and stayed there.”

  Making that her final blow, Ella turned on her heel and left the house.

  She’d had her say, just as she’d intended, but now she felt a little sick to her stomach. Deep inside she knew she hadn’t needed to say so much. The look on Karl’s face stuck with her. It betrayed his deference of her words over Marla’s, and caused her to wonder if the quote, “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,” was more of an act of love than a rule. Yes, she had taken vengeance into her own hands, and now she felt like hell.

  XIV

  There wasn’t much going on at the police station. The officers either hadn’t come back yet or had returned and left again before McPherson arrived.

  The murder was the most important thing on the agenda, but that didn’t mean other crimes had ceased.

  She glanced over the various complaints that had been sent, as she waited for the desk officer to check if she had had any calls.

  There had been three holdups, one of which involved the violent pistol whipping of a grocery clerk, three wife beatings, and five noise complaints, vicious dogs and other equally routine things.

  “Just one call, Lieutenant,” the man said, passing her a slip of paper.

  “Thanks,” she said absently. The call was from Liam asking him to call her once she got back.

  She picked up an outside line and dialed his number. The warm familiar glow of anticipation she always felt whenever she was about to talk to Liam washed over her. It felt good, but it always made her feel somewhat uncomfortable, because she thought herself too old for such foolishness.

  “Mr. Brighton,” she said, when he finally answered, “this is Lieutenant McPherson. You left a call for me?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant,” he answered seriously, “I would like to know if you’ll be coming home for dinner, and if so, to ask you to bring home some cigarettes and whipped cream.”

  “I’m on my way. Put on a pot of coffee.”

  “See you soon,” he answered.

  Liam’s apartment was located near the heart of town, so she walked over. The building was ugly and drab from the outside. Grime and smoke from the years covered the blood red brick, and the architecture was unimaginative.

  The largest portion of the first floor was occupied by a dry cleaner and bakery, with the door leading to the upstairs apartments squeezed in between them.

  There was a dim foyer that held two antique chairs and provided access to a creaky self-service elevator. McPherson stepped into it quickly. The automatic door had a frightening way of snapping at you once you were halfway through. She tapped the button for three and waited while the cables squealed and snarled the cage upward.

  The third floor hallway was even more gloomy than the foyer. The walls were a washed-out brown and deeply cracked, and the soiled carpet had been worn threadbare down the center. There was a musty smell that let the occupant know that the place hadn’t endured fresh air for a long time.

  Emma knocked on Liam’s door, just as she had done countless times before in the five years they’d known each other. As always, it felt like coming home.

  Emma lived, or rather slept, in a single room of a rooming house. Whenever her work permitted, she ate with Liam at the apartment or took him out to eat. Other times she had her meals at whatever restaurant was closest. Her dream was that one day she and Liam might live together in a home of their own. Unlike some, though, their dream was close to coming true.

  Together, they nearly had enough in the bank for a down payment on a house and to add whatever was needed to their already large collection of furniture. Both of them felt that marrying so late in life was bound to create problems, and so they took close care of their finances so that money wasn’t one of them.

  Liam opened the door and smiled. “Well if it isn’t Emma. I was afraid you might not make it.”

  He was a tall and handsome man, about six foot two. His body was athletic and his face, while not perfect, radiated an inner confidence that made him pleasant to behold.

  Liam took her in his arms and knocked the door shut behind him. He kissed her and held her close for a long time, then she leaned up on her tippy-toes and whispered in his ear. “I can’t be long.”

  He gave her a warm hug and a passionate kiss. “Of course you can. Sit down and rest while I set everything up. There’s a crime show on Flix in five minutes.”

  “I’ll check it out,” she said, as she hung her jacket in the hallway and watched Liam walk toward the small kitchen. That was something she never got sick of—watching Liam.

  Once he had disappeared from sight, Emma mad her way into the living room and took a seat in her favorite chair. It was a victorian slipper chair. It was a little small for a woman her size, but something about the way it was constructed made it hug the small of her back to perfection. There among the furniture, with Liam in the kitchen, she felt so content that it was as if the outside world had completely disappeared.

  She was kicked back, relaxing, and enjoying the solid creature comforts of home, when Liam entered carrying a small tray.

  “I thought we might eat in here so you can watch the show,” he said as he passed her a napkin and placed the tray upon her knees.

  “Thank you. I’d rather not move any more than I have to. Even watching the show sounds like more trouble than it’s worth.”

  She lifted her fork and poked at the pasta dish. There were peppers and chicken in it, so she decided to try a bite. It was good.

  “Would you like your coffee now or later?” Liam said.

  “Now, please, if it’s ready. Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “Duh. My tray is resting in the kitchen, but you go ahead while your food’s hot. I’ll only be a minute.”

  She began to eat. Besides the pasta, there was a salad, and hot butter rolls. Everything was delicious. Even with something simple, like this dinner, Liam somehow managed to make it feel special.

  “This is amazing,” she called out, only to be answered by a chuckle.

  “Don’t talk while you’re chewing. And besides, I have my reasons for cooking for you. I found a house that’s perfect for us. Of course, it could use a little fixing up, but I’m sure I can handle it in my spare time.”

  She smiled to herself, but delayed her answer until she’d had her coffee and settled in with her tray.

  “Fattening me up for the kill, huh?”

  “But this is such a nice house. It’s sort of English-looking in style, with triple-paned windows and all that. Of course, there’s a lot of cleaning that needs to be done, but they’ve deducted it off the price.”

  Emma sighed. “You must think I’m wicked. You think I’ll just let you do all the work yourself?”

  “Stop grumbling. I know you’ll help me when the time comes. You must be under an awful amount of stress right now, though, what with that boy’s murder hanging over your head.”

  “Murders happen all the time.”

  “But why would anybody want to kill a little boy?”

  “We’re not sure yet,” she replied, chewing steadily.

  “Do you think it was planned? I mean, do you think somebody lured him out of his house in order to kill him?”

  “I don’t think so.” Her answers were terse. Liam knew she hated discussing her work whenever they were together. Crime was her job, and she excelled at it, but as far as she was concerned it was a ragged dirty business, and it would be best if it never touched their time together.
<
br />   “Was he molested?” he asked with hesitation.

  “No.”

  “Then why—?”

  “Could have been accidental.”

  “How could a murder be accidental?”

  “Sometimes it happens. Do you have any more of this alfredo stuff?”

  Shrugging with resignation, Liam grabbed her plate and went to the kitchen. Evidently he would have to get his news about the murder from the internet or television. He returned with another plate of food, and began talking about the house for sale.

  “It’s a few doors down from where James’ brother lives. You know James, the guy that takes my place at the office. It has a lake view and four bedrooms. That would give us two guest rooms, and a room for an office or library, or whatever you want really. It isn’t new, but they tell me it’s well built. It has a full basement, as well.”

  “Sounds good, babe,” Emma answered between bites. “What’s the price?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Lake front property is usually expensive, but if you can take a day off on the weekend, we could take a trip to look at it.”

  “We’ll see. I can’t promise anything.”

  “I know,” he agreed.

  She set the tray aside and smiled the smile of a happy, well-fed woman. “If you’ll please step over here, I’ll give you your gratuity for the meal, then I’ve got to get going.”

  Liam took her into his arms. “I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon, but I know you have to. If I knew it would do me any good I might complain.” He held her close and kissed her tenderly.

  Emma peeked up at him through her lashes. “Once we’re married, and the taxpayers come through with a bigger budget to hire more cops, I’ll be around a lot more, and you’ll begin to regret ever having such a thought.”

  He nuzzled his scruff against her cheek. “I’m sure I’ll be long dead when that day finally comes.”

  She kissed him again and sighed. They stood to their feet and walked hand in hand to the hallway. She grabbed her coat and he kissed her again.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, and try not to do any more house hunting.”

  “Only if it’s a good deal.”

  “Alright, but try to keep it down.”

  “Okay, babe. Be careful out there.”

  “Don’t worry,” she answered, and made her way towards the elevator. Liam stood behind her, waiting and filling in the doorway until she was finally out of sight.

  It had grown much colder since she’d first entered the building. She lit a cigarette and started toward the station. The small local businesses along the way were preparing to close for the night, and she wondered to herself ruefully what it must be like to work a normal, eight hour day.

  XV

  Seeing the kids off had left Karl Fitts with a deep feeling of loneliness. Their excitement and happiness at the thought of a train ride to Grandma’s really got to him. You couldn’t expect kids their age to consider a trip on a train in light of the fact that they would be leaving their father alone, but knowing that didn’t keep it from hurting.

  As for Marla, he couldn’t honestly say whether or not he gave a damn if she stayed or went, but as he watched the train pulling away, it hadn’t mattered much. Not like it used to.

  She understood how he felt. There had been something like pleading in her eyes, begging him to understand, but how can you understand a woman—who you thought was your life partner—wanting to run away to be with her mother so badly that she was willing to use a boy’s violent death to achieve her end?

  That wasn’t a wife. That wasn’t a companion. That was another child in the house.

  It was nearing dusk, that most melancholy time of day. The sign over Chandler’s Bowling Alley flickered on as he drove by. That was where him and his team went every Tuesday. At Steve’s Supermarket, where Marla worked, the clerks were moving a large flat of plant beds inside so they could close as soon as the last customer had left.

  The Alto was still dark. That was the theater closest to home that they frequented. They brought the kids along on the weekends, whenever a blockbuster or award winning drama was playing; whenever there was something he and Marla wanted to see that wasn’t quite suitable for the children, they hired a sitter.

  Warm memories of the many pleasant evenings they’d spent in the district floated through his mind. They had been pleasant enough for him, anyway, but for all he knew Marla might have rather been with her mother.

  Marla never wanted to move here, but Karl’s new job paid almost twice what the old one had, and so there wasn’t much she could say. It had meant they were able to buy a home of their own, and give the kids music and dancing lessons, not to mention the extras for themselves.

  He knew she would grow homesick, but he figured she would eventually get over it as she acquired new friends. They’d lived here only a little over two years, though, and she had made four trips home in that time, each time staying as long as she dared, so it was plain that the feeling must have been deeper than he had realized.

  He stopped at an intersection and shifted gears violently.

  “Damn Ella,” he muttered under his breath.

  Things that were never brought into the open were a heck of a lot easier to ignore than those brought out into the bright light of discussion. Sure, he’d ignored a lot of things, but things had been a lot happier for him that way. If only Ella would have just kept her damn mouth shut, he could have carried on ignoring them until he was dead.

  He pulled onto the road that led to South Pines and examined each house carefully as he passed. He remembered back to how he’d felt the first time he’d turned that corner, after he had made the down payment on the house. He had been so proud, he could hardly contain it.

  The kids had been bubbling with questions. Was this their new house, for real? Who would they get to play with? Did they still have to go to school? And if so, where? Even Marla had been chock full of excitement. Well, there sure wasn’t any excitement tonight. It was the same place, and the same surroundings, but it all looked as empty and dark as he was feeling.

  Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes and cut the lights.

  He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a shadow was moving near the front door.

  He closed his eyes tight, trying to adjust them to the dark, and took a second look. He hadn’t been wrong. There in the dark shadow of the portico, there was the form of a man, and he seemed to be messing with the doorknob.

  Karl lifted his foot off the brake and allowed the car to coast up to the curb. He lifted the emergency brake and silently, but swiftly, slid out of his seat. He didn’t close the door because of the noise, and he crept carefully across the blacktop of the street. Once across, he stuck to the grass, so that his footsteps wouldn’t give him away, and rushed toward the front door.

  The intruder was busy fumbling with the knob on the door and wasn’t aware of Karl’s presence, until he was grabbed violently by the arm and jerked around.

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Karl shouted, as he took a swing at the unresisting figure.

  His first swing connected with the man’s chin and he fell back onto the walk. The brutal force of the blow had sent him back, and then there was a sickening thud, as his head struck the brick border of the flower bed. The man stopped moving and just lay there like a sack of potatoes, with one leg bent under him at a grotesque angle.

  Karl unlocked the door and ran to the telephone. He called the police station and reported having caught a stalker. Maybe it was having something concrete to fight that pleased him, but he felt like he’d just defended his castle. He was very proud of himself.

  He flicked on the front porch light and started outside in order to keep an eye on the intruder. As he stepped through the door, his foot struck something soft. Without thinking, he stopped and picked it up.

  It was a package wrapped in old paper, addressed to Jade in cramped handwriting. With shaking hands he tore it open and found a r
ough knitted doll’s sweater inside.

  It was like he’d just taken a low blow. He knew immediately who the man was, and it took almost more courage than he could muster to near the splayed, unconscious figure of Mr. Rogers.

  Mr. Rogers still seemed to be breathing, but that was all Karl could be certain of. He hurried back to the house and began calling for an ambulance, but his hands were shaking so badly he could hardly dial the number. Finally in a burst of desperation, he got hold of the operator and gave him the address. Then he rushed into their bedroom and grabbed a blanket. He was laying it over the injured man’s body when a patrol car stopped at the curb.

  The officers were strangers to Karl. The first one out knelt by Mr. Rogers and took his pulse. Once he was satisfied that the man was still alive, he tucked the blanket close around the body, so that all one could see was the man’s head and one of his hands. The sight of Mr. Roger’s hand sickened Karl. It looked like it was pathetically reaching for help that wasn’t there.

  The second officer had paused to talk over the car radio. When his call was finished, he walked towards Karl.

  “I called for an ambulance,” he said, then turned to his partner. “How’s he look?”

  “Not good. It looks like he sustained a massive head injury, and his leg is twisted. It must be broken. It couldn’t be twisted like that and not be broken.”

  He nodded and spoke to Karl again. “The report indicated that he was a stalker. Do you know who he is?”

  Karl swallowed hard. His throat felt like sandpaper. “Yes,” he managed to whisper, “I know him.”

  The officer gave Karl some time to collect himself while he wrote in his note pad. “Fitts, is that right?”

  Karl nodded.

  The officer was still writing when a dark coupe came to a stop, and Lieutenant McPherson stepped out. She had just arrived at headquarters when Karl’s call had come in, and she’d decided to take her own car rather than wait for a driver.