by Graham, Jan
Maybe the police would like that as well. She refolded the slip and threw it back into the bag.
Samuel Barnard was a giant of a man, standing six feet five inches tall. He towered over Angel’s much smaller five-foot-four-inch frame. Angel had always known the only way she would ever have been able to overpower him and get away would have been while he was asleep, but even then he scared her. His large, muscular frame was intimidating to all who met him, as was his attitude. Samuel didn’t hold down a regular job. Why would he when he could bully people into doing or getting what he wanted? Instead, he worked for a crime family headed by the way too good-looking and suave Adrian Hastings. Samuel had worked for the Hastings family since he was a young man. He had been thrown out of half a dozen schools because of his bad attitude and the use of physical violence to get his own way. When he showed up at the school that Adrian was enrolled in, the Hastings family recruited the slightly older Samuel as a protector for the then-not-so-physically adept, twelve-year-old Adrian. Consequently, he and Adrian had grown up together so to speak.
Both now in their fifties, Samuel had watched Adrian rise to head of the family, taking over “the business,” as he called it, from his elderly father when he was in his thirties. Samuel, on the other hand, had become the family’s main henchman and problem solver. He knew more about Adrian than anyone else. Having seen the guy’s leadership and ruthless attitude when they were both in their twenties, Samuel had aligned himself as a friend and confidant to Adrian. Samuel believed this would secure his own position in the business and give him some leverage if things ever turned bad. Samuel believed the sensitive information he held on Adrian would not only keep him safe, but it could also act as a bargaining tool if he ever needed it with the feds.
Samuel rented a small, dilapidated cottage on the outskirts of a tiny town located at the western side of the city. The home was nothing like anyone would expect someone involved in high-level crime to live in. During one of Samuel’s more amicable moments, Angel had questioned his choice of home. Samuel had explained that, due to his line of work, he preferred to live a low-profile life. Almost as an afterthought, he added that once he grew too old to survive in the business, he would disappear to a quiet house on a hill and live in peace. Angel wondered if he actually believed his little dream. Firstly, she believed that at fifty-five, Samuel would see old age sooner than he thought, unless someone killed him first, and secondly, from what Angel had experienced Samuel didn’t have a peaceful bone in his body. She teased him by asking if his house on the hill would have a nice little white picket fence.
His reply surprised her. “No, black wrought iron, with spiderweb design panels.”
During their time together, Samuel had kept Angel on a short leash. He had given her some freedom but had always made it perfectly clear to her that she was not a free woman. Angel was his to do with and use as he pleased. Initially, Samuel had made an effort to be interested in her and had attempted to be friendly. It turned out not to be in his nature to show long-term kindness to anyone. Within the first year of Angel moving in, the relationship had deteriorated into one of mental, emotional, and physical cruelty. Much to her disgust, Angel stayed. After all, she had little choice in the matter. Samuel had threatened nearly everyone in her life. He had little compunction when it came to human life. People were only pawns that could be used to get what you wanted. He made threats against Angel’s friends, family, and even the dog she used to have when they first met. Samuel was a ticking time bomb. Over the five years they had lived together, Angel came to believed one wrong move and someone would die. Most likely her.
The one serious attempt she had made to get away from Samuel had ended in disaster. A well-devised plan, or so Angel thought, had left her with scars that over the last three years had served as a constant reminder that she had nowhere to go.
Angel had resigned herself to life as it had become…a never-ending nightmare. She supported herself through freelance writing. Having left her job at the local newspaper when she attempted to leave Samuel, Angel cited her need to write more extensive articles than those on a local level. Given the injuries she had to recover from after Samuel found her, leaving the job had been a blessing. There was no need to explain a long absence of recovery, and freelancing had made her a better living than the standard rate of pay she had received at the paper. Even though Samuel controlled her bank account, he did allow Angel to access her money when she needed it. The fact that she had to supply receipts for purchases annoyed her, but if it meant not using his money, then she was happy to do it. Angel viewed Samuel’s money as tainted with blood and destruction, and she had no desire to be associated with it. In actual fact, Angel had no idea where he kept his money or how much he earned. Not that Samuel ever offered to buy anything for her. He never even bought her a birthday or Christmas present. Angel had once heard Samuel tell an associate that in relation to women a man should “give them nothing, take them nowhere.”
Angel assumed this was Samuel’s equivalent of the saying treat them mean to keep them keen.
Neglect from men was nothing new to Angel. She had never experienced a man who wanted to lavish her with gifts, not even from her father when she was a child. She used to wonder what that sort of generous kindness and thoughtfulness would be like, but at this point in her life, she didn’t think she would ever find out. Angel kept the tiny rental house clean and tidy, she cooked Samuel his meals and fulfilled his often violent sexual needs. When it came to sex, Angel realised he would just take what he wanted from her without thought for her well-being. She knew she shouldn’t resist him, but couldn’t help herself. He triggered such fear at times that the fight-or-flight response was impossible to deny. And, given she was usually unable to take flight and run away, Angel resorted to fight. Fighting wasn’t wise considering the injuries it left, but at least she had managed to maintain respect for herself and a determined will to survive. Whatever Samuel tried to take from her, she made sure he had to work for it.
Angel walked to the study and collected a large white envelope and pen. After placing the brown envelope from under the bed inside, she wrote a small note to include with the contents.
Adrian,
I found the enclosed envelope amongst Samuel’s belongings. I hope this concludes my dealings with you.
Angel.
P.S. I would appreciate you informing your associates that my home is no longer of interest to you.
Angel sealed the contents in the envelope before taking it to the lounge room and placing it on the coffee table. She picked up the piece of paper sitting near the telephone and stared at it. A lump rested in her throat as she contemplated dialling the number. The sooner she made the call, the sooner she could move on. Her hands trembled as she dialled Adrian Hastings’s mobile.
“Hello.” His voice was gruff, sending a chill down Angel’s spine.
“It’s me,” Angel spoke nervously. She remembered his words from the funeral. When you ring, you’re to say nothing identifying either of us. You will refer only to items, not what they are. “I have been going through Sam’s things, and I have some items that he wanted you to have.”
“Well, I certainly didn’t expect him to leave me anything, but of course if Samuel wanted me to have some of his belongings, I will be happy to accept them.” Adrian spoke with a smoother tone. He was such a conniving leach. “I would come and collect them myself, but I have so much happening with work at the moment, I hope you understand. I’ll send a courier if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine. I understand you’re busy.” Angel breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t want him visiting her.
“Yes, I thought you would understand. I’ll have a courier there within an hour. You take care of yourself, Angel.” Adrian ended the call abruptly before she even realised he had used her name.
Prick. Angel hung up the phone. I can’t identify you, but you can use my name. Hypocritical maniac.
Angel collected the locked b
ox of drugs, the cash she found in Samuel’s boots, and the key to the box. She placed them all, along with the brown envelope, in an old case that Samuel kept for transport purposes. That was all she intended to give Adrian, and hopefully it was enough to get him to leave her alone.
Angel went back into the bedroom and placed the remaining items from the box into the front pocket of the duffle bag before returning it to the false bottom drawer. She left the bags of clothes and rubbish in the middle of the room, knowing she had to figure out a way to get them to the dump. She placed Samuel’s false ID, birth certificate, and keys in the side zip pocket of her bag.
Angel felt dirty, which had less to do with cleaning and more to do with the fact she had spoken to Adrian. Adrian always had that effect on her. He may have been a good-looking, well-dressed, and very suave man, but the way he looked at her always made her shiver. He looked at her like a predatory animal eyed its prey. As she stood in the shower letting the warm water run over her body, Angel imagined the last five years of fear and turmoil being washed away. She hadn’t sought out anything that she had encountered in her life leading to this point. However, thinking back, she knew she had made some very bad choices. That had to change. If the last five years had taught Angel one thing, it was this. She was worth more than she had encountered in her life thus far. She was a good woman, caring and kind, and someone of that nature deserved better.
Angel remembered the day she had arrived home to find Samuel gone. It wasn’t unusual for her car to be missing from the driveway as he often took it without asking. After all, the keys to her car were one of the many things he kept in his possession. She had actually been surprised when he had allowed her to keep the car after her attempted escape. Angel realised at the time it was all about the control and emotional torment he could inflict on her rather than a gesture of trust or an act of kindness toward her. She had to watch him use the car while she walked. It kept her close to home and gave him the ultimate power to say no when she asked for the keys to go somewhere. He often drove away in the car only to return a few hours later on his bike and announce he was going travelling for a few days. She hated when he did that. He would hand her the car keys to look after until he got back, knowing fully that she had no idea where the car had been taken. Samuel was very good at playing mind games. If there were a degree in it, he’d be head of the department at the university teaching it.
She shivered as she remembered the sight that met her when she entered the house. It was a mess. Everything was thrown on the floor, cupboards were open, books and CDs strewn about the lounge room. The stereo speakers had been kicked in and pillows from the sofa were ripped open. Angel recalled walking to the study door and pushing it ajar. Filing cabinets had been emptied of papers and more books littered the floor. Samuel’s computer was still on his desk, a gaping hole in the front revealing his hard drive had been taken. If her life had been anything like normal, then she would have been on the phone to the police within minutes. But, there was nothing normal in her life. And in this house, the police were the enemy.
Angel remembered walking into the kitchen to place the bags of groceries she was holding on the counter. A knife was missing from the knife block. Again cupboards were open, but whoever had gone through the house had been a little more respectful here.
The only evidence that Samuel’s room had been searched was the bottom drawer of the dresser that had been removed and his toy drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe was open. If anything else had been touched, she wouldn’t have known as his room was always a mess, especially if he had packed to go away. Angel had then gone to her bedroom. Nothing was missing and nothing was messy, just as she had left it. Angel flopped down on the bed and breathed out a sign of relief. Apart from having to clean up, it looked like she was going to have a few days’ peace. She had decided to leave the cleanup until after Samuel arrived back on the bike. If he had trashed the place, then he’d tell her to “clean this shit up,” and if he didn’t do it, he would see what had happened and hopefully deal with it before telling her to “clean this shit up.”
Angel remembered the knock on the door that woke her. One of Samuel’s customers greeted her, only to become annoyed when he discovered Samuel wasn’t home. Angel sent him away, telling him to ring Samuel if he needed to see him. She had never sold drugs, and she hadn’t been intending to start that day either. Walking into the kitchen, Angel heard the faint ring of Samuel’s phone. She knew he wouldn’t have left it behind. It was like a third arm for him, and he was never without it. She’d walked toward the back of the house, reaching for the back door as the phone stopped ringing.
It was then she noticed the garage door was ajar. They didn’t use the garage, not even for the car. It was a single, old building away from the house, built during a time when cars were smaller and detached garages popular because people didn’t mind walking out into the yard to get what they needed. Nowadays, everything had to be instant, on hand. Angel recalled the crunch of the gravel drive under her feet as she’d opened the rickety wooden door.
The air was cool around her as Angel stared at Samuel’s Harley Davidson belt buckle. She lowered her eyes, scanning down his body to his feet. He wasn’t wearing shoes. His feet looked pale, she thought, as her eyes scanned back up his body to his chest. His shoulders were relaxed, his hands by his sides. She smiled at him when her eyes reached his face. His head was slanted to the side, and the noose around his neck was secured firmly to the middle rafter of the roof.
Angel drifted back to the present. As the water from the shower tumbled over her body, Angel smiled. She could not have dreamed of a better end for that shitty excuse for a man.
Chapter Two
Adrian had been true to his word, or so it appeared. The courier had arrived exactly one hour after their phone call, and Angel hoped, with the handing over of the items she had found, that would be the final contact she would have with Adrian or any of his cronies. Angel never trusted Adrian. In fact, she found it hard to trust any man. Life had taught her that she needed to rely on herself rather than put her faith in anyone, especially if that anyone was a guy. Every man Angel had ever known influenced her distrust, from her father and two brothers during childhood to the string of men who filled her adult life.
Angel was sure nice men existed. The world wasn’t full of men like Samuel, Adrian, or her father. If it was, then most women would have miserable lives, unless of course they were lesbians. She once had friends who said their partners were loving and attentive, the perfect gentleman. Angel believed they were telling her the truth. After all, they had no reason to lie. For some reason though, Angel didn’t attract nice men. She actually believed that it was a fault in her genetic makeup that attracted the bad boy type. Her mum had married Angel’s unbearable father. Her grandmother had left an abusive husband when her mother was only ten, and Angel’s choice in men went without saying. Angel interpreted this family history as evidence of a genetic flaw. Now that Samuel was out of her life, Angel was determined to never make a bad choice in any future relationships she may have, even if it meant not having a relationship at all.
It had been twelve weeks since Samuel’s death. She had endured the police questioning, the ineffectual searching of the house by not only the police but also Adrian’s goons. The lack of discovery on behalf of Adrian’s men didn’t surprise her. Why send men with drug-addled brains that couldn’t see past their own self-interest to search for anything of importance? The police had been a different matter. Or they should have been, considering Samuel’s criminal history. At the time, Angel thought how inadequate the police search of the home had been. Markham, the detective running the search, had appeared disinterested in the task. He had conducted a superficial search of rooms at best, appearing that it may actually cause him too much trouble to find anything of interest.
The resulting inquest into Samuel’s death returned a verdict of suicide due to no evidence of any criminal activity at the scene. Obviously the
coroner just assumed the mess in the house was because Angel liked living like a pig, rather than someone actually trashing the place. When Samuel was finally able to be buried, Angel had used the last of her savings to pay for it. She didn’t expect any help from Adrian. After all, that would confirm his connection to Samuel as more than an acquaintance. It had, however, been a surprise when he turned up to the funeral.
Initially Angel thought he was there to pay his respects and say good-bye to the man he had known for more than half his life. It turned out that Adrian wanted something. Taking her aside after the funeral service, Adrian explained that Samuel had information that could be “potentially damaging” to him, and he needed the information back. He mentioned the history on Samuel’s hard drive indicated a copy of the missing information had been made a month before Samuel had passed. Adrian told Angel he needed the hard copy of that information. Angel had a week to find it, or Adrian would come and do it himself. He had given her his private mobile number, explained the procedure for making contact and also that police should not be shown anything Angel happened to find. Like, der….
