by Amy Cross
She stared at him. “Can’t you make that stuff up?”
“That would be dishonest.”
“Oh.” She paused. “Well, sure, I guess… I can give you a testimonial. After we’re done.”
“I have fought in two wars,” he continued. “I have seen men die. Women and children too. And animals, so many animals, from the big ones like sheep and cows, to the small ones, even the insects. I tired of war, but I still want to use my skills. Do not be afraid, but this is actually my first job from the advertisement. In truth, I…” Reaching into his pocket, he took out a notepad and pen. “I want you to know that I am a real professional. I also want you to know that what you’re contemplating is not unusual. Do you know how many people in the world use the services of someone like me, in order to simplify their lives?”
“How many?” she asked.
“Lots.”
“Really?”
“Your life is a struggle,” he added.
She nodded.
“You look at your friends, your neighbors, and you wonder how they manage to do so well. Why don’t they look so haggard? Why aren’t they miserable? Why do life events seem to fall into place for them?”
“I do wonder that.”
“It’s almost like they avail themselves of secret services, of people like me, to make their lives easier.”
She took a deep breath. “Is it?”
“And do you know how many get caught?”
She shook her head.
“Almost none of them. How many times have you heard of a wife, for example, being caught arranging her husband’s death?”
“I think I’ve heard about it in the news a few times over the years.”
“A few times. Exactly. That’s less than one thousandth of a per cent of the times it happens. People like you use people like me all the time, in order to make their lives easier and happier. If that’s a crime, then shoot me.” He smiled. “Well, not literally. Shooting is my job.”
“Sure, but…” She paused. “The way you do it,” she whispered, leaning toward him. “That’s kind of a crime, right?”
“Let me worry about such things.”
She paused again, before nodding.
“I realize this is a difficult decision,” he continued, “and that taking the plunge might seem like a step too far, so I have come up with a solution that I am certain will make you happy. Here is my suggestion. I will take the full payment today. This is non-negotiable, it’s just the way things are done. The risk, in this regard, is entirely upon you, although I hope you consider me to be trustworthy.”
“I do,” she replied, figuring that no-one with such blue eyes could be a liar.
“After all, you must remember that I need your testimonial for my site.”
She nodded. “Absolutely.”
“And then you have twenty-four hours,” he added. “Twenty-four hours in which to call me off. If, during those twenty-four hours, you decide you don’t want me to do this, you simply send me a message. The money will be returned to you, minus a small fee, and the matter will be forgotten. If, on the other hand, you don’t send me a message during the twenty-four hours, I will know that you want me to go ahead. Your decision will be irrevocable, and I will strike fast and I will strike hard, and you will never hear from me again. Your husband will be history within minutes of that deadline passing.”
She paused.
“Do you understand what I’m saying, Mrs. Hague?”
She nodded.
“So are you in agreement?”
She paused, before realizing that she couldn’t back out now. Besides, his way of doing things seemed reasonable, and she’d still have twenty-four hours in which to change her mind.
“I have all your husband’s details,” he continued. “Just slide the money to me under the table, and we have a deal.”
Fumbling through her bag, she pulled out the envelope of money and paused for a moment, before holding it under the table and pushing it toward him. After a few seconds, she felt him slide the envelope from her hand.
“Do you promise you’re not a cop?” she whispered, on the verge of tears.
He nodded. “Do you promise you’re not a cop?”
She nodded.
“We’re both in the same situation,” he replied, looking down at the envelope and briefly opening it to see that there was cash inside. “So you have my -”
Suddenly a police siren rang out in the distance. Shocked, they both turned, only to see a patrol car speed past the diner. After a moment, their faces drained now of all color, they turned back to face one another.
“So you have my number,” Luke continued, clearly a little shaken as he checked his watch. “It’s 9:15am. If, in twenty-four hours from now, I have received no message from you, I will go ahead. At that point, I will strike fast.”
She nodded.
“And don’t be afraid,” he added, getting to his feet. “You mentioned in your email that you have a daughter. You seem like a nice woman and I’m sure you’ve raised the girl well. If your husband is such a fiend that he has pushed you to this point, then the fault is his, not yours. Get him out of the way and start a new life.”
“He…” She paused. “Yeah, he…”
“There is no more to discuss,” Luke replied, taking a step back, “and you know how to contact me if you want to cancel our arrangement. I hope you don’t, though. I hope the twenty-four hour cooling-off period merely lets you realize how normal all of this is. And it is, you know. Welcome to the real world, Mrs. Hague. This is how people fix the problems in their lives.”
Nodding, she watched as he turned and made his way to the door. Once he was out in the parking lot, she realized she’d begun to hold her breath, and she tried to stay calm as she exhaled. Looking out the window, she watched as Luke disappeared from view, and then she looked at her watch. Twenty-four hours… Suddenly that didn’t seem like a very long time at all, and she told herself she still had time to change her mind. Then again, the thought of Bob being gone from her life was liberating. Even if she eventually canceled the deal with Luke, she figured that she’d enjoy spending a whole day filled with the feeling of imminent freedom. And if ultimately that moment of freedom didn’t transpire, the anticipation would be like a Christmas gift to herself.
Feeling her phone vibrate, she pulled it from her pocket and saw that Alex Gordon was calling.
II
“Bowley police are expected in the next twenty-four hours to arrest the prime suspect in the murders of Mel Armitage and Hayley Maitland. The suspect is a local man, known to police, and his arrest is expected to lead to progress in a number of other unsolved cases, including the death several years ago of Caitlin Somers.”
Leaning back on the porch, with the newspaper in his hands, Ben couldn’t help but smile as he continued to read out loud.
“Sources close to the investigation say that the suspect has been under investigation for some time, but that this is the first time it has been possible to make a move. Police are bound to face questions about why this individual was able to remain free for so long, and why earlier concerns were not acted upon.”
He chucked to himself.
“Oh Jack,” he continued, lowering the paper for a moment. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to go to press with accusations like this? Everyone knows that Joe Baldwin killed those two girls.” He smiled. “You’ve just made yourself look like a class-A fool.”
Hearing the porch door starting to creak open, he turned just in time to see his father stepping out of the house in a dressing gown.
“Hey,” Ben said after a moment, “did I wake you with my raucous laughter?”
“It’s barely nine in the morning,” Harry replied, clearly unhappy to receive a visit so early. “What the hell are you doing sitting on my goddamn porch at such an ungodly hour, talking to yourself and laughing like a lunatic?”
“I wasn’t talking to myself,” Ben muttered, getting to his feet and th
rusting the paper into his father’s hands before slipping past and entering the house, “I was reading out loud. There’s a difference.” He stopped and sniffed the air. “This place smells foul, old man. You do realize, don’t you, that everyone knows about your prodigious internet use? The proof is practically encrusted everywhere.”
“I don’t want you here,” Harry replied. “Get out!”
“Haven’t you seen this morning’s front page?” Ben asked, turning to him with a smile. “Jack has run with a very interesting story that seems to indicate the police are going to arrest someone. The only problem is, shortly after he went to print, the truth became apparent. I assume you heard that Joe Baldwin was picked up last night?”
“I heard something about it.”
“And here’s the best part,” Ben continued, snatching the paper back and taking a moment to find the relevant paragraph. “Listen to this. The suspect is known to be a highly disturbed individual with a history of violence and questionable behavior. I mean, Dad, can you believe that?” He paused, as the smile faded from his eyes. “My own brother, hanging me out to dry like I’m some kind of common psychopath. He really, truly believes that I’m a monster, doesn’t he? Then again…” He turned to Harry. “He had some help believing that, didn’t he?”
“I want you to leave.”
“So you can get back to your computer?”
“I was asleep.”
“Are you coming to Beth’s tomorrow? It’ll be good to get the whole family together in one room, won’t it? You, Mom, me, Jack and Jane, Beth and that idiot husband of hers, the kids…”
“I hope you have fun,” Harry snapped. “I won’t be there.”
“Not even for Beth’s sake?”
“You can all have a very nice Christmas without me,” Harry replied, shuffling past him and then stopping to block his way further into the house. “I’m too old to deal with your rubbish, Ben, and I’m too tired to play games. The last thing I want on Christmas Day is to have to referee yet another fight between you and your brother.”
“But I probably won’t even be there,” Ben pointed out, holding up the newspaper. “I’ll probably be neatly out of the way by then, rotting in a jail cell. Hey, do you think I have time to dye my hair blonde again before the cops show up? It’d seem somehow appropriate, wouldn’t it?”
“Get out of my house.”
“It was my home once.”
“It was the family home,” Harry sneered, “but it’s mine now. My house, my rules, and there’s nobody who can come in without my permission.”
“Sure,” Ben replied, “but…” He paused, before suddenly pushing past Harry and making his way along the corridor. “While I’m here,” he said with a smile, fully aware that the old man couldn’t catch him in time, “I might as well give you your Christmas gift early.” Pushing open the door to the spare room, he headed over to the computer desk. “You can thank me later,” he added, grabbing the computer tower and pulling it free, before dropping it to the floor. “Thank me when you realize that this is a good deed.”
“Stop!” Harry shouted.
“Too late.”
Kicking the side of the computer, Ben quickly managed to dislodge the plastic casing. Before Harry could even reach him, he’d uncovered the motherboard, which he smashed out of place with the heel of his boot, sending several pieces of plastic and metal flying across the floor.
“Stop!” Harry spluttered, getting down onto his knees and pulling the remains of the device away from his son.
“Whoops,” Ben said firmly, “looks like you’re going to have to use your imagination on Christmas Day. Or, you know, you could tear yourself away from those dodgy websites for long enough to actually come to Beth’s house and spend some time with your family.” He stepped over the pieces of broken computer and headed to the door. “You’re welcome, by the way. Hopefully one day you’ll realize that I just did you a massive goddamn favor.”
“You were always a piece of garbage,” his father sneered as he tried to gather up the broken pieces from the computer’s casing. “Nothing’s changed, has it?”
“I thought I was a troubled individual who resisted his family’s attempts to help?” Ben replied, glancing back at him. “That’s the quote Jack ran in this morning’s paper, anyway. He attributed it to my shocked and horrified father, although obviously he didn’t include your name. Even Jack isn’t so dumb that he’d jump the gun quite so much. I mean, hell, I could maybe even claim damages if he turns out to be wrong.”
“Oh, for God’s sake…”
“You don’t think I have a case? Everyone knows he’s writing about me.”
“Get out of here.”
“Or do you just think he’s right?” He waited for an answer. “At first I assumed he’d asked you for your thoughts so he could include them in his story, but then I realized he didn’t even need to do that. You and he are so completely on the same wavelength, he knew what you’d say.”
“This is vandalism,” Harry replied, “and home invasion. You’re lucky I don’t call the police on you!”
“Why don’t you? You’ve done it before.”
Muttering a few expletives under his breath, Harry continued to clear up his broken computer. “You owe me a new computer,” he said finally. “These things cost money!”
“Say,” Ben continued, “Dad, do you happen to remember a man named Garland Packer?”
Harry turned to him.
“Yeah,” Ben added, “clearly the name rings a bell. We’ve talked about him before, but not much. The crazy thing is, you and Jack always spent so much time thinking that I’m some kind of monster, you never noticed the real monster here in Bowley.”
“Garland Packer was a good man.”
Ben smiled.
“He was a pillar of the community!” Harry continued. “He did more for this town than anyone else!”
“Well, that’s certainly true. One might even say that old Garland defined Bowley.”
“I want you out of my house!”
“I murdered Garland Packer,” Ben added.
Harry opened his mouth to reply, before pausing.
“It was in cold blood,” Ben continued. “The guilt you saw in my eyes, the pain and fear, the remorse, the doubt, and then the sense of strength… It was all real, but you and Jack were just wrong about who I’d killed. I smashed Garland Packer’s head in with a brick from his old fireplace. You remember how he was found at the farmhouse, don’t you? Well, that was me. I waited for the police to catch me, for them to link me to his murder with their fancy DNA tests and so on, but nothing happened. I guess they dropped the ball.”
Harry paused. “Liar,” he said finally.
“You don’t believe me?” Ben asked with a faint smile.
“Garland Packer was killed by some vagrant who passed through town one night -”
“No, Dad.”
“Alex proved it!”
“Have you ever noticed how Alex always blames passing vagrants? It’s his go-to excuse for everything that happens around here.”
“Alex Gordon knows what he’s talking about.”
“Alex is a moron,” Ben replied. “I killed Garland Packer because of the Border, and because of everything he stood for, and because I thought, mistakenly as it turned out, that by killing him I could make a difference and end the suffering that goes on beneath the streets of his miserable, bony little town” He paused. “I was wrong. Spectacularly, horrifically wrong. After Garland was out of the way, the Border became even bigger, even darker. Do you want to know why I stayed away from town for so long? I was scared for my life.”
“The Border?” Harry spluttered. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve never heard of the Border, you’re talking nonsense.”
“You’ve really never heard of it? I honestly don’t know whether to believe you.”
“And you didn’t kill Garland Packer. This is just another of your games!” Getting to his feet, he set the broken pie
ces of his computer on the desk, his trembling hands picking through them one by one. “Maybe I can get it fixed,” he continued. “All the bits are here, they just need fixing back together. One of these metal sections must be the hard-drive, I just have to figure out which.”
Hearing a siren in the distance, Ben watched for a moment as his father tried to arrange the remains of the machine. “You know what?” he asked finally. “Screw this. Dad, go to Beth’s tomorrow, you’ll be fine because I won’t be there. I thought I could come back to Bowley for one last chance, but it’s too late for that, isn’t it? I should just get my things and leave, and let this town sink. Why should I care if the Border continues to fester? If I’m out of here, it’s really none of my business. Would you like that, Dad? Would you like me to leave and never, ever, ever come back?”
“I’ve wanted nothing more for the past twenty years!” Harry hissed.
“Then I guess this is goodbye.” He paused, as if the words wouldn’t come until, finally, he forced them. “Goodbye, Dad.”
Turning, he made his way along the corridor and finally he reached the porch, stepping out into the morning air. As he stopped and took a deep breath, he felt a faint shiver pass through his body as he realized that something seemed wrong, with the air around him almost humming with some hidden urgency. The decision to leave Bowley had just popped into his head while he was talking to his father, but now he felt as if it was his only option. Taking his phone from his pocket, he brought up Jack’s number and tried to call, only to get put straight through to voice-mail.
“Hey, it’s Jack. Leave a message.”
“It’s me,” Ben said firmly, “I just called to say… I just called to say goodbye. I’m leaving town and I won’t be stopping by the office to say some big, fancy farewell.”
He paused, watching as a couple of kids rode past on bikes.
“I read the paper this morning,” he continued, making his way down the steps and over to the sidewalk. “You really went to town, huh? I could tell you enjoyed writing that story, and I’m sure you’ve got the follow-up all ready to go, complete with my name. Smart move to publish it on Christmas Eve, too. That way, you’ve got three full days to let things develop before the next edition hits the stands of Bowley. Plenty of time for me to get taken in, plenty of time for the supposed truth to come out and -”
