The Silent Boy (Emma McPherson Book 1)

by A. J. Flynn

  “Yes, of course. But it may still be a few days. There are still some questions that have to be settled. If you need anything, or if there’s anything you would like to know, feel free to give me a call,” she said earnestly.

  Hayley reached out her hand. “I will. Thank you again, and goodbye.”

  There was truth in that saying, old as you feel. The girl looked as though she had aged ten years in the last hour.

  McPherson sat and watched the house for a while. There were still things to do, but she couldn’t seem to muster the inertia to get started. She looked over at the Johnson’s and wondered what Detective Aiden had been able to learn from Mrs. Johnson. Sure, the woman wasn’t apt to be free with information, but the young man was tenacious and wouldn’t give up easily.

  It never felt good to catch someone in a lie, but in the case of Mrs. Johnson, she was willing to make an exception. The woman had rubbed her the wrong way, ever since she’d first laid eyes on her.

  The Fitts house looked quiet. She hadn’t heard anything about Mr. Fitts being charged with the attack on Mr. Rogers, but it was only a matter of time. She wondered how Mrs. Fitts might feel when she heard about it.

  Finally, she flicked her cigarette out the window and started the car. She had to begin sometime, so it might as well be now.

  XIX

  Hayley let herself into the still house. It didn’t feel like home anymore, but it was a place where she could be by herself. She hung her coat up in the closet with her usual grace and began pacing slowly about the room. Her fatigue was so great that every step felt like she was forcing her way through wet sand, but for some reason she was frightened to sit down. It seemed like so long as she kept moving, she could somehow avoid the reality of her situation.

  She made her way to the back closet and dug around for a dust rag. There was no good reason to wear the housework gloves she always used. Nobody would be seeing her hands now.

  She began working like a robot, mechanically doing one thing at a time, but doing it well. No nook or cranny missed the steadfast polishing of her dust cloth.

  While she worked, her mind raced in a tumultuous storm of thoughts. She remembered back to the summers when she had been a child. Happier times, when the only worry was whether or not her parents would punish her for not getting home on time. She thought of the surplus charge on the electric bill and how she would have to remember to talk to the company about it. Her mind jumped from one thing to another like a hopped-up grasshopper, and time passed by without notice, until it began to grow dark. She tapped on some lamps and drew the curtains. There wasn’t any need to think of dinner, but a shower may help her relax.

  She undressed and stepped into the shower stall. A warm shower seemed best. The spray was forceful and she let it wash over her for a long time. The pounding water had a calming effect that was like a drug.

  After apathetically drying herself, she made her way to the closet and picked out an old fluffy robe. She had owned it for years, and it was faded now with sagging seams. Harry would have laughed at the sight of it, but it was soft and warm, and she needed its warmth tonight.

  Out of force of habit, she walked over to the dressing table and picked up her hairbrush, then slowly put it back down. There wasn’t any need to brush her hair or do her makeup tonight. It was the first time since Harry had been released from prison that she had skipped the ritual.

  The thought of eating made her stomach churn, but she thought she might be able to manage a cup of tea. She went to the kitchen and put a pot of water on the burner, then made her way to the front door and picked up the paper. Everything seemed normal, except for the fact that her world had fallen apart.

  Once the water was hot she poured it out over the tea leaves, and set the pot on a tray, along with a cup and saucer. Then she brought the tray into the living room.

  It was her routine to skim through the paper, picking up whatever facts caught her interest without reading too closely, but tonight she flipped to the editorial page and began reading. She was halfway into the second paragraph, when the words began to swim in front of her eyes. Her tears could no longer be denied. The paper fell onto the floor, and she buried her head in her hands. The sobs were heavy and deep.

  He hadn’t had to die. It was all such a waste. Harry, for all of his faults, was her man, and she had loved him.

  Even when he had chosen to take what looked like the easy way out to relieve their troubles, she could never bring herself to blame him. She knew that stealing to help someone you love was wrong, but it was understandable. Even the judge had sensed this, and decided to be lenient.

  All the time spent waiting for him had been hard, but the hard work had been worth it. A new start in a new location looked like the answer, and it had been until Charlie’s death threw Harry into a panic.

  It hadn’t been Harry’s fault that fear had eaten away at him, until he eventually felt that he had to flee like a frightened animal. Not everybody was brave, just as not everybody was light or dark skinned. Not everybody can say that their lives were intervened upon and made complicated by a senseless murder. There would be plenty of people who weren’t able to handle such a situation. It wasn’t just Harry.

  She wasn’t quite sure how long she cried, but eventually the tears stopped. There simply weren’t anymore left.

  Her head ached unmercifully, and she leaned it back against the chair. She was trying to decide whether or not to go and get an aspirin, when she heard the back door open.

  She sat up, startled.

  “Who’s there?”

  There was the muffled sound of someone bumping into the kitchen table.

  “Who’s there?” she called out again, and was answered by a man’s voice cussing about the furniture being where it shouldn’t be.

  She stood up from the chair and, clutching the neckline of her robe, stood waiting for whoever might come through the kitchen door.

  XX

  God, how the bitch had laughed. He could still hear her laugher, as she said, “You better take your money back, mister. I don’t mess with dirtbags like you.”

  If he’d had the strength, we would have beat the hell out of her, but he didn’t.

  She knew it, too. Lying back on the rumpled bed, naked as the day she was born, she wore a smile that said, “I’m laughing in your face right now. What are you gonna do about it?”

  He’d hurried out as soon as he could, but now that he was out on the street there was no place left to go. She’d laugh her head off traipsing back to Simp’s to spread the story. He could almost hear her now.

  “You know that Robb Johnson guy?” she’d start, then tell the whole thing. It would be good for a laugh, and laughter was the one thing he wasn’t willing to face.

  He stumbled to his car, but there wasn’t any pleasure in getting behind the wheel tonight. He needed a stiff drink and he needed it bad.

  The nearest spirit shop was six or seven blocks down, so he started the engine and drove as fast as he could. He’d begin shaking soon, and he needed to take a few shots before it started.

  He picked up a fifth of whiskey. A pint might not be enough. When he returned to the car, he split the seal with his thumbnail, took a long swallow and followed it with two more.

  He immediately felt better, but there was still fear in him. Tonight was just a coincidence, he wasn’t that old, but what would he do once he was? He didn’t have any children to love him in his old age. There was nobody for him besides that sanctimonious robot, Colleen. No more women, no more booze, just day after day of Colleen.

  He started the car and started back towards home. The liquor was kicking in and he didn’t want to pass out in his car.

  Because of his present condition, he drove with due caution, and finally made the turn onto his street. Once he successfully parked along the curb he felt that he had achieved a great triumph. He stepped out of the car feeling quite confident and ambled up the driveway towards the back door.

  The d
oor didn’t squeak like it usually does when he opened it. Colleen must have given up trying to get him to oil it and done it herself. He didn’t bother turning on the light. It had been a hell of an evening, and he knew that the light wouldn’t help any.

  He started through the kitchen and cracked his shin on something that scooted heavily across the floor. His leg hurt like hell, and he gave vent to a few scathing opinions about women and how they couldn’t put things back where they belonged.

  There was a faint light bleeding in from the living room, and he started for it, with great care. When he got to the light, he squinted and blinked forward with bleary eyes, trying to get his bearings. It took a good while, but when it finally dawned on him that he had entered the wrong house, he gave a self-pleased smile.

  He was proud of his genius, and began offering the courtly apologies of an inordinately polite drunk.

  “I seem to have made one hell of a— I seem to have made one hell of a mistake.” Then he stopped and gave his full attention to the tousle-haired, shiny-faced woman standing in front of him, clutching an old robe that looked just like one of Colleen’s.

  “Well, I’ll be hot damned,” he said in dismay. “If it isn’t our glamour girl.”

  He felt his way towards the nearest chair and flopped down into it. His eyes never left Hayley. At first he was confused, then his confusion gave way to laughter.

  “Our glamour girl,” he choked through howls of mirth. “The envy of the neighborhood, and she doesn’t look any different than every other free-loading bitch that’s tied a man down. Dresses to the nines for everyone else, but the old man can have her raw, and he better like it!”

  He laughed to himself for a little while longer, then sat forward, staring at her. Hayley returned his gaze, not knowing exactly what to make of the situation. She had known Robb Johnson casually for a while now, but he had never done anything to cause her apprehension. Everybody knew he was a drunk, but nothing ever came from it.

  “I guess you’re wondering if I killed the little bastard, too?” he said.

  The shock on her face must have registered with him, because he sighed and carried on.

  “Colleen seems to think… Wonders, I mean. According to her, it only could have been done by an evil man, and if anyone around here fits the bill on that description it’s me.”

  Hayley didn’t answer, mostly because she couldn’t think of anything to say. She’d never dealt with anything like this before.

  He rolled his head back and continued watching her through his half-closed lids. Almost as though he were in reverie, he carried on talking.

  “Of course, Colleen hasn’t accused me outright. Colleen is such a lady, she wouldn’t deign to accuse a dog of pissing on a fire hydrant. No, she’s not a woman, but she’s a mile-wide, twenty-four-hour-a-day lady.”

  Johnson seemed to have forgotten her presence, but Hayley remained standing as if planted. She seemed unable to move.

  “All you women are the same” his voice droned on, “—like bacteria, or…one of those sucker fish that sticks to the back of sharks and lives off of them. I used to watch you as you left for work. I knew by the way you moved that you were one-hundred percent woman and could make any man appreciate you. You’ve got sex written all over you.”

  Hayley’s breath hitched as Robb droned on.

  “I used to think of you over here at night with Valentine, dressed in scanty nightgowns he’d tear off… I used to drive myself crazy thinking about you, with your soft perfumed hair, in bed with him. But look at you now”—his voice grew suddenly sharp—“you’re just as blowsy as Colleen, except not as fat. Just another god-damned bitch.”

  Hayley discerned utter hatred in his face as he scowled at her, and the first prickles of fear touched her spine. She didn’t know what she’d done to anger him, but she knew that this man had become dangerous to her.

  “You better go on home, Mr. Johnson,” she said in a quivering voice.

  A cruel smile twisted his lips and he shoved himself out of the chair. There was something obscene about his expression. “You know that old saying, if at first you don’t succeed? Well, I think you’re just what the doctor ordered.”

  As he spoke, he stumbled towards her, shoulders stooped, elbows jutting away from his sides. Hayley looked on in terror at the advancing figure, but found that she was frozen stiff, and unable scream or run.

  With one quick movement, Robb fastened his hand on the neckline of her robe, and thrashed. The material was too thick to rip, so it just hung open, revealing her bare chest.

  He narrowed his eyes and sneered. “No difference except some of them take more baths.”

  Hayley realized the true extent of her danger and opened her mouth to scream, but Robb’s palm smashed against her lips, smothering the sound until it was nothing more than a whimpering moan. She staggered backwards against the wall and looked on with pleading eyes as he drew his fist up for a second blow. He was blind to her fear, only intent on relieving the hot rage and frustration that was burning inside of him.

  The blow struck the side of Hayley’s face, and she crumpled to the floor, her hands pressed firmly over her mouth like she was trying to silence the dry racking sobs that shook her.

  Robb stared down at the defenseless woman with surprise. The full consequence of what he had just done was beginning to make itself felt. He wanted to try to help her, but he didn’t know what to do. A man could get himself into a hell of a lot of trouble if she decided to go to the cops. He reached for his hat and, after a quick glance to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, fled through the back door.

  He didn’t dare start the car, but he pushed it enough so it would coast on the slight incline of the street. He couldn’t figure out how he’d somehow managed to get on the wrong side of the street, but it was too late to worry about that now.

  The car slowed to a halt partway across his driveway, but it would have to suffice. He sat for a while, struggling to collect his thoughts. If he went home in his present condition, Colleen would surely know something had happened.

  He covered his face with his hands and thought, Christ, what did I do?

  Mrs. Valentine had never been anything but nice to him. Sure, he had stolen a peek every now and again, but he had looked at just about everything that passed his way wearing a skirt. He’d never forced a woman in his life and never would have thought himself capable of it. They simply never mattered enough for him to risk endangering himself. For every one of them who wasn’t willing, there were two more that were. Be that as it may, if Mrs. Valentine decided to call the cops, he would surely be sent to prison.

  There wasn’t any point in waiting any longer, so he stumbled to the door and pushed it open as quietly as he could.

  “Is that you, Robb?” Colleen called from the kitchen.

  He mumbled with irritation. He knew that tone. Colleen had something to talk about and she planned on talking until all hell froze over. He passed a quivering hand over his eyes and wondered to himself how he might make it through, but he didn’t dare leave until he found out what Hayley Valentine would do as soon as she got hold of herself.

  Colleen entered the room looking calm and cool. “It’s nice to have you home early for a change, I’ve been nervous all day. First poor little Charlie, and now this. It’s getting to the point where I’m afraid to listen to the news anymore.”

  Robb was too preoccupied with his own problems to pay her very much attention.

  “You look exhausted, dear,” she went on. “Take a seat and I’ll fix you something to eat. I doubt I’ll have very much appetite thinking about poor Mrs. Valentine over there all alone. I’d pay her a visit, but I’m sure she’s in bed by now.”

  At the sound of Hayley’s name, Robb froze. “What about poor Mrs. Valentine?” he managed to ask through his dry and constricted throat.

  “Haven’t you heard? It’s Mr. Valentine. He died this morning in a car accident. Ran head on into a truck and was burned beyon
d recognition. That police lieutenant brought Mrs. Valentine home this afternoon. I would have made a trip over as soon as I heard about it, but I don’t know her very well. Poor thing.”

  Robb wouldn’t have been able to move if his life depended on it. All he seemed to be able to do was sit there feeling like maggots were crawling around in his insides. He stared down at his hands, and against his will remembered back to the pain he had inflicted.

  He thought back to how he had taunted Hayley for the way she looked and hated her for looking that way. He could remember her terror, alongside her inability to comprehend why he would want to do her harm.

  The deed was right there in all of its stark clarity and he realized that the hard feeling of self-disgust would linger with him for the rest of his life, but for now the most important thing for him was his own self preservation.

  What would she do? He had to figure it out soon.

  Colleen, with her usual lack of interest, didn’t notice any of his distress. “I’ll put your dinner on then run over and see if there’s anything I can do to help. The poor thing shouldn’t be by herself at a time like this.”

  “No,” he choked involuntarily. “You stay away from her.”

  She stared at her husband, shocked with amazement. “Robb—you can’t possibly mean that. The woman was just widowed. It isn’t Christian to ignore her.”

  “Leave her alone,” he growled. “I mean it. You stay out of it.”

  Colleen shook her head struggling to understand, then glanced across the street again. “Oh, there’s a car pulling up now.”

  “Wha—who is it?” he whispered.

  “Just a second, I can’t tell yet. Oh yes, I see now. It’s Dr. Blackwell. Well, I’m sure he can help her far better than I would be able to. Go on and get washed, and I’ll set something out for you to eat.”

  Robb followed behind her quietly because he couldn’t think of a way to get out of it. If he told her he wasn’t hungry, she would be quite capable of calling Dr. Blackwell over to see what horrible ailment had taken hold of him.