Sins of the Father
Melissa Barker-Simpson
Copyright © 2016 Melissa Barker-Simpson
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
DEDICATION
For my mum.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
About Melissa Barker-Simpson
Other books by Melissa Barker-Simpson
Connect with Melissa Barker-Simpson
PREFACE
To the untrained eye, Paul Meeks was a gentle man; as mild as his name would suggest. But Paul had a secret - a darkness that had become his sole purpose for living. It fuelled him, pushed him with a ferocity that had become an obsession. Paul Meeks had murder on his mind.
Nothing gave him a kick like the sweet pull of revenge. He was a fastidious man, and though not an impulsive one, he had been drawn to the high-end BMW. The vehicle was his weapon of choice for the first step in his plan. Stealing it had been almost as exciting as driving it.
He ran his fingers over the steering wheel with a fervour he might have shown a lover. The car was a distraction, he knew it, but he didn’t care. Nobody could blame him for playing the first piece in style. When it was over there would be no use for such luxuries. If he was lucky, he’d be dead. He wasn’t afraid; the thought of death gave him a curious buzz.
His eyes travelled almost lazily to the rear-view mirror. It was time – he could feel it. The very thought made his heart accelerate until it began to beat out a steady rhythm. The scene was set. He had everything in place.
The car was sheltered beneath a row of trees, their branches leaning to offer protection. Everything was working with him tonight, even nature. He had chosen the long stretch of road for its hiding places. It led to a small village so insignificant that he could barely recall the name. It was one of those places people joke about; dumb quips that don’t inspire confidence.
He knew the moment had come even before he saw the headlights. He didn’t wait for confirmation. There was no need. The BMW gave little protest as he pulled onto the road with a screech of rubber. He could see the slick colour of Jack Murphy’s sports car – blackened by the night. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the look of frustration on Jack’s face.
“1… 2… 3…” Counting aloud calmed him. It banked the excitement that threatened to overwhelm. The moment Jack swung out to overtake him was as orchestrated as his own manoeuvre. He saw it with a clarity that made his head spin – power shot through his arms and into his wrists so that they twisted sharp right exactly on target.
He felt the car make contact with the Audi’s back bumper and the shock of impact made his blood sing. He felt like a god-damn superhero. The maniacal laugh that erupted from him was more fitting to a super-villain.
It became a bark of frustration when his car started to slide. He knew how to handle it, but it meant he missed part of the show. The sound of Jack’s car crashing into a tree was like music to his ears – another detail he’d factored in. The whole road was lined with trees. All stood to attention like centurions doing his bidding.
For Jack Murphy it all happened too quickly. One minute he was on top of the world, oblivious to Paul Meeks and his murderous intent, and the next his whole life was spinning off its axle. As the car began its trajectory towards the line of trees his first thought was of his wife, and then of Alicia. He didn’t ask why, only that he would see them again.
A moment later, the only thing he could think about was the pain. His body was on fire, he thought it must be to burn so badly. It was difficult to see beyond the thin layer of red. He hurt so much it was a relief when the darkness engulfed him.
Paul brought his car to a stop, checking to make sure he was alone before he got out. He didn’t want to be caught by surprise. The wreckage brought him up short. He wasn’t seeing the dented front end of an Audi now. It was a different car entirely. The memory shot out of the dark and slammed him backwards; he actually took a physical step in retreat.
He wavered longer than he should; caught between the desire to see his plan through and the fear that he would see another face at the wheel.
The pain-filled groan brought him back to the present with a slap. He stepped forward again but he couldn’t see Jack’s face, there was too much blood. Even now, it was pouring from the open wound on his forehead. The sight didn’t satisfy him as it should – the memories were clouding his enjoyment.
He waited a moment longer for any sign of life. There was none. Jack was either unconscious or dead. Judging from the amount of blood, if he wasn’t, he soon would be.
The darkness snaked its way into his brain again. It tugged at him, left him teetering on the edge. There was only one thing he knew for sure - he couldn’t quit. Still the memory stabbed at his subconscious. It wasn’t safe to stay now, so he reversed his steps.
He was anxious to dump the car and move on. That was his predominant thought as he pulled onto the road. The sweep of headlights behind him was a siren in the dark – a reminder of what could happen if he lost control. It was no doubt a Good Samaritan, who would stop to help Jack.
He couldn’t think of that now. He was growing weaker for each minute he fought to keep the darkness at bay. It helped to work on his breathing, and go over the steps in his mind.
The route to dispose of the vehicle was stored and filed away. It was important for him to keep a clear head in order to follow through. He couldn’t afford to draw too much attention; with or without his clever disguise.
A bubble of hysteria rose in his throat when he realised he’d taken a detour to Jack’s house. It was the third time he’d seen it - his reaction was just as severe. The quaint little cottage made him want to drive a truck right through the front porch.
All thoughts evaporated when he saw the woman pacing through the large dormer window. She was anxious, probably trying to quiet the little voice in her head that told her something was wrong. His face spread into a grin. Just the very thought of it, of the call that would confirm her worst nightmare, almost made up for his failure - almost.
Chapter 1
Alicia Gladstone stood in her trailer, her temporary home for the next few months, and allowed the silence to settle around her like a dense fog. Though the room was moderately sized, it felt like a vacuum – as if someone had sucked out all the air.
The quiet was shattered by a series of muffled sobs making their way down the phone line. Rebecca was barely coherent now. Alicia knew she was supposed to say something, offer words of encouragement – something. But her brain was as fuzzy as the reception on the line. The more she concentrated, the harder she gripped the receiver. The pain spreading its way through her hand was a welcome distraction; she used it to ground
herself.
"Al, are you still there?"
This is not happening again. "Yes, I'm here... I'll be with you as soon as I can." She dropped the phone back into its cradle and sank to her knees. Having lost her anchor, the shock crept into her heart and took hold.
She wasn’t the type of woman to wallow in self pity. She had suffered through her share of heartache, but she never lost sight of how lucky she was. If she did she would probably wonder why, just when she’d found a little happiness, it was taken away again.
The pain was as familiar as an old friend – one she hadn’t seen in a while, but who was impossible to forget. ‘Please don’t take Jack away from me. Not again.’
She tried to focus on the little things; the thick carpet under her hands, the texture and feel of the fabric; the couch, her thinking chair, where she spent hours going through a script. Her heart gave a painful lurch when she thought of how Jack had been sitting there no more than eight hours ago. She could picture his excited expression as they talked about their project; of the fun they would have making their first film together. Through him, she could relive the thrill of it and remember why she chose the job – a need to touch people by bringing a story to life.
As a child she’d travelled to many places inside her head – became whoever she wanted to be. It was how she coped with the emptiness in her own life, of the knowledge that her mother didn’t want her. It wasn’t easy growing up in a children’s home – it wasn’t a home in any sense of the word. So she created her own reality where family meant the friends she picked up along the way.
Some viewed her life as a series of lucky breaks; others saw her good fortune as the result of some cunning plan, as if she had somehow deceived her way to the top. None of them knew about the little girl of five who was taken from her home without thought for what it cost her. The child who cried for her three-year old brother every night because she had no idea where he was or if she would ever see him again. She kept those parts of herself locked away.
It had taken her twenty years to find Jack again. By then she had redefined herself. She had a life that allowed her to carry out her childhood dreams on the big screen. As an actress she got to play all the people who had once taken up residence in her head. If she was successful, it was only because pretending to be someone else was what she excelled at, something that came as naturally to her as breathing.
The decision to keep their relationship a secret hadn’t been her idea, but she respected Jack’s desire to reconnect without the world watching. She was judged constantly for the decisions she made, and if that was in part because she kept the past where it belonged and refused to justify herself, then she owed her brother that much.
Alicia shook her head, trying to clear it. Her thoughts were feeding the dread that was already vying for control; it was a paralysing drug that had robbed her of all reason.
Somewhere in her mind she registered the banging on her trailer door, but she confused it with the pressure building inside her head.
"Ready or not, I'm coming in!" Stuart Mansfield barked out the threat, even as he was stepping over the threshold.
“You do realise everyone is on set, and if you don’t come out soon they’ll say the...” He broke off when he saw her. “Al, what’s wrong?” When she didn’t answer he moved forward and knelt beside her, laying a gentle hand on her arm. “Alicia?”
She looked at him then, recognition igniting the dull light in her eyes. “It’s Jack, he’s been in a car accident. They’re operating now.” Her voice broke at the end – as if saying it aloud made it real.
“Oh my God!” He reached for her hands. “I’m here, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay.” She nodded as he pulled her to her feet. “Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital.”
He guided her delicate frame to the sofa and coaxed her down again. “Al, I’m going to get the car. Wait here for a few minutes.” Fighting hesitation, he spared one final glance before hurrying out.
She heard the orders he barked outside her trailer, but the words were muffled, as though they were spoken under water. She wanted to believe it was all a nightmare, even if her heart knew it wasn’t true.
When Stuart returned, she was in the same position; her expressive face frozen in shock. It scared him so much he wavered again, just for a moment. It reminded him of a different time, one he didn’t like to think about.
Instead of dwelling on the past he manoeuvred Alicia into his car. He didn’t try to talk to her; there was no point. He settled for what he did best – giving instructions as if they were running through a scene.
Alicia gazed across at him and felt a rush of affection. He was so much more than a director. He was her friend. She was safe in his hands both personally and professionally.
“Thank you.” The fact that he was needed on set didn’t stop him from taking care of her. She was grateful for that – grateful for him.
He glanced over at her. He didn’t need to say anything because she’d seen the reprimand in his eyes. She recognised it, had been seeing it in some form or another since the day they met.
With a small smile, she turned her attention back to the road. It was a mistake. Instead of finding something to focus on, the scenery became a blur of colour, forming into memories she was trying so desperately to suppress. They came at her hard and fast, like the windscreen was nothing more than a portal to the past.
She could see herself clearly; the years she had spent in care, the day she managed to flee from her prison, the time she spent with Eric, and finally the day she met Gray. Earning her freedom and building a life with him were some of the best years of her life.
Gray Jackson had been a father in every sense of the word. He had taken a broken child and given her the world. Then, just as she was beginning to heal, to trust again, he was taken from her. It was a cruel twist of fate.
“You’re thinking about them, aren’t you?” Stuart said, making the images fade and her heartache.
She glanced at him again, taking in the wild hair that always managed to look unruly, and the kind brown eyes that were clouded now with worry. “Yes. It’s hard not to.”
“I’m sorry, Al. I don’t know what to say to make this easier for you.”
Tell me it’s not happening again. “It’s okay. You’re here, and that’s enough.”
Gray and Eric, two of the most important people in her life, had been killed in a car accident. A driver, well over the limit, had forced Eric’s car from the road. He died instantly. Gray made it as far as the hospital. The source might have been different, but finding out about Jack’s accident was like an echo of the past.
She looked back to the road and felt a moment of panic. They had arrived. Riverside Hospital stood in front of them – its bold beauty a beacon of hope. That’s how she’d seen it in the past.
The architecture was a combination of cold metal and warm stone. It fit her imagery of the professionals who worked within – the sterile yet embracing nature of all who walked the halls. A virtual wall of glass surrounding the entrance cast a glow that reached to the far corners of the footpath. Alicia couldn’t help comparing all the twinkling glass to the eyes of a beast. They mocked her as she tried to close the memories away; making her doubt she was capable of distinguishing between past and present.
“You have to find a way to push through the fear, Al. It’s about Jack now.”
She sighed and reached out to take his hand. “I know. I just can’t believe this is happening. I only spoke to him a few hours ago.”
“Things can change in an instant. But you know that too.” Stuart gave the hand a squeeze before releasing it. He stepped out of the car and walked around to open her door.
As she joined him, Alicia whispered a silent prayer that it wouldn’t be the last time she heard Jack’s voice, the last time his laugh would affect her mood and bring a smile to her lips.
"I'm scared." It wasn’t hard admitting it to him.
"I know, honey.
But I’m here, okay? Let’s go and find Rebecca. She needs you now. "
Alicia worked on her composure as they walked through the hospital. She knew Stuart was right – falling apart wasn’t an option. It lasted only until she saw Jack’s wife, pacing outside an empty room. That was all it took to snap the remaining control.
She ran towards Rebecca and threw her arms around her, almost winding them both.
"It's going to be okay. He's tough," Alicia whispered fiercely. "We have to believe he'll come through this."
"I can't take it, Al, he's still in theatre. There's something wrong. I just know it."
"No, honey, don't think like that. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything." She tried to sound convincing as she led Rebecca to a seat, putting a comforting arm around her.
They were almost the same size, yet they were different in every other way. Alicia, with her olive skin tone and black hair was the dark to Rebecca’s light – the milky white complexion and pale blonde hair. She had eyes the colour of caramel. Alicia’s were a startling blue.
Stuart watched them for a moment. He took a chair opposite, trying to push aside a feeling of helplessness when Rebecca broke down. She sobbed into her hands, struggling with her own vulnerability. Alicia immediately pulled her closer, stroking her arm in a soothing gesture.
“It’s going to be okay, Becky, I promise everything will be okay. He’s going to make it. He has to.”
She didn’t expect a response or need one. There were no guarantees. It was simply something Rebecca wanted to hear; what they both needed to believe was true. So she sat, offering comfort and reassurance, as much for herself as for Rebecca.
As they waited for news, the only sound in the waiting area was Stuart’s hushed tones as he made call after call. Even Rebecca’s quiet sobbing had ceased. Without having something to concentrate on, she was unable to suppress the memories. They broke through her quiet determination until she found herself travelling back four years.
Sins of the Father Page 1
