by Amy Cross
Hearing a click, he realized the call had been cut, most likely because he’d reached the maximum allowed length for a message.
“Huh,” he muttered, slipping his phone away and then starting to walk to the end of the street. He remembered playing in the area as a kid, and when he glanced at the old oak tree on the edge of Mr. Lauderson’s lawn, he could almost see himself, Beth and Jack sitting up on one of the branches where they used to enjoy playing. Those days seemed so far away now, and he knew they could never be recovered. Reaching the end of the street, he stopped for a moment and realized that something still felt very wrong. It was almost as if his chest was hollow, as if his heart was lighter than usual. As a sense of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him, he leaned against a nearby fence and tried to get his balance back. The sensation passed quickly enough, but there was still a hint of nausea in his belly.
Feeling a vibration in his pocket, he took out his phone and saw that Beth was calling.
“Hey,” he said as he answered, “what’s up?”
III
As soon as he opened the front door, he froze at the sound of a woman crying hysterically.
For a moment, all Ben could do was stand in the empty hallway and listen to the sound of pure, unrestrained grief. He’d run all the way to the house, convinced that there had to be some kind of mistake, but now with a sense of pure cold steel in his chest he realized it was true.
It had to be true.
The cry was Jane’s, and it was almost like an animal. In all his life, he’d never heard such a true amount of pain being expressed in one haunting, horrified voice. He wanted to turn back, to run until he couldn’t hear her anymore, to put his hands over his ears… At the same time, he forced himself to keep listening, to expose himself to the sound of a woman who’d just been informed that her husband was dead.
A moment later, Bob stepped into view, tapping at his phone before spotting Ben in the doorway. His ashen, hungover features seemed to exaggerate his stubble.
“Ben -”
“I know,” Ben replied, his voice rigid with shock and anger.
“Ben, listen -”
“I know,” Ben said again, making his way past Bob until he reached the door and saw an empty kitchen. “Jack’s dead.”
“Audrey’s with Jane and Beth in the bedroom,” Bob said a couple of seconds later. “She’s trying to… I don’t know. The kids were already at a friend’s house when she got the news, I don’t really know what to do. Should I go over and get them, or should I wait and…”
His voice trailed off.
“If I go,” he continued finally, “I guess I’d have to tell them about Jack. I don’t know if I can do that. I mean, it’s not that I’m shirking the responsibility, it’s just that I think their mother should be the one who tells them. Plus, if I fetch Stuart and Oliver, I guess I have to fetch Lucy too, and I don’t know how much she really knows about death yet. Jesus Christ, do you see the problem here?”
“Where is he?” Ben whispered, his face seeming a little more gaunt now, as if some part had been drained away to leave only anger.
“Where’s… who?” Bob asked.
“Jack. Where’s Jack?”
“Ben, Jack’s dead.”
“I know that, you goddamn…” He took a deep breath, forcing his anger to stay beneath the surface. “Where’s his body?”
“I don’t know. I guess… I guess they took him to the morgue, or to the hospital, or…” He paused. “Ben, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what happened, just that Jane got a call this morning and -”
“I know,” Ben replied, turning and heading back to the front door. The sound of Jane’s sobs was starting to drill into the center of his mind, and he felt as if he had to get away. Even if he regretted it later, even if it made him a weak person, he had to run. Somehow, he felt he’d rather be with his brother’s silent corpse than his sister-in-law’s frantic sobs.
“Ben -”
“I’m going to find him,” Ben said, hurrying away from the house. “I have to see for myself.”
“What should I do?” Bob called after him. “Should I stay here? What about the kids? Should I get the kids?” He waited for a reply, but Ben headed along the sidewalk and finally disappeared from view. Sighing, Bob paused for a moment before heading back into the house.
***
“If you look here,” Doctor Tomlin said, using the tip of a scalpel to indicate the damaged flesh around the edge of Jack’s chest, “you’ll see that the incision was very quick and clean. This wasn’t someone who hesitated. I’d hazard a guess that it was someone with experience, too.”
Alex tried to focus on the wound, but he couldn’t help glancing at Jack’s still, pale face.
“Even if we didn’t know about Joe Baldwin’s involvement in the Armitage and Maitland cases,” Tomlin continued, “I’d already be telling you that Jack was killed by someone else. In fact, now that the contrast is right in front of me, I’ve gone back and looked at the files from the Caitlin Somers murder and I think…” He paused. “Well, if I had to take an educated guess, I’d say that Jack was killed by someone with a similar approach to the task.”
“The same person,” Alex whispered, staring at Jack’s face.
“That’s not quite what I -”
“It’s clear enough,” Alex replied, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm the sense of nausea in his belly. “This would’ve been quick, though, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t have suffered?”
He waited for a reply, but Tomlin’s silence was enough of an answer.
“He’d have suffered?” Alex asked.
“It’s hard to see him not being at least somewhat aware,” Tomlin replied, “in his final moments.”
“Jesus,” Alex whispered, as a shudder passed through his body.
“Now this might seem fanciful,” Tomlin continued finally, to break the silence, “but if you look at the wounds on the victim’s belly and chest…” He indicated the couple of dozen red slits in Jack’s body. “I think there’s a pattern. I can’t say what the pattern is yet, or whether it represents anything specific, but I certainly think it’s worth looking into. I’ve already mapped the wounds, I’ll get that file to you. I just don’t think the killer was randomly knifing him. I think there was method in this insanity.”
Hearing a door opening in the next room, Alex turned just in time to see Ben hurrying into view. Stopping in the doorway, Ben froze as he saw his brother’s body on the slab.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Alex said, hurrying over and putting a hand on Ben’s chest, trying to force him back.
“The hell I’m not,” Ben replied, slipping past and heading to the top of the slab. “He’s my brother. Was my brother.” He reached down to touch the side of Jack’s face, before thinking better of it and pulling his hand away. “He was my brother a long time ago.”
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Alex said firmly. “Ben, come on, let’s -”
“It was the guy with the mask, wasn’t it?”
“I…” Alex paused. “I’m sorry?”
“The guy with the mask,” Ben continued, still staring down at Jack’s dead face. “You know, the one with the stag bits glued to his goddamn head. It was the freak with the mask, which means…” He swallowed hard. “Jack probably couldn’t even see the guy’s face. He probably thought it was me.”
“That’s a bit of a leap,” Alex said cautiously. “Ben, let’s go across the street and -”
“You saw the paper today, didn’t you?” Ben asked, looking along at the hole in Jack’s chest. “He had no doubts at all. The odds are, he thought I was the one who did this to him.”
“I’m sure he knows now, Ben, that -”
“He doesn’t know anything now.”
“He’s in a better place.”
“He’s right here!” Ben shouted, taking a step toward Alex as his rage threatened to explode. After a moment, he turned back to look at Jack. “He’s not in a bett
er place. He’s right here in front of me, I can see his goddamn lifeless corpse.” Leaning across the table, he looked into his brother’s chest and saw the gap where the heart should have been. His initial reaction was to pull back, but he forced himself to keep looking. After a moment, he began to imagine the heart being cut out and the warm blood flowing out.
“Where were you last night, Ben?” Alex asked after a moment.
Slowly, Ben turned to him.
“Jesus,” Tomlin muttered.
“I need to know,” Alex continued. “Not just you, I need to ask a lot of people the same question.”
“Maybe this isn’t the right time,” Tomlin suggested.
“No,” Ben said, stepping toward Alex, “it’s definitely the right time. I was out last night murdering my brother, obviously. Where was the body found, exactly? Wherever it was, I was right there. What kind of knife did the killer use? Let me know and I’ll go get one and stick in my pocket for you to find!”
“Ben -” Alex began.
“Don’t believe me?” Ben asked, angrily pushing Alex back against the wall. “What’s wrong, are all your theories falling apart? Are you starting to wonder whether maybe you got everything wrong?”
“Ben, please,” Alex replied, trying to ease him back. “You’re upset, you’re in shock -”
“Do you think so?” Ben shouted, pushing him harder against the wall. “Really, old man, do you think I’m angry? What gave it away?”
Alex opened his mouth to reply, but at first he was too shocked to say anything. “I know you’re angry,” he managed finally. “Ben, listen to me, I know you’re angry and you’re upset and you’re… furious, and shocked.” He waited for Ben to reply, while not daring to try pushing him away. “You’re hurt, and you’re confused, and -”
“What are you, a walking thesaurus?” Ben asked.
“Listen -”
“Shut up. Just shut the hell up. Nothing you say ever really helps anyone in this town, does it?”
“This isn’t the place to have this discussion,” Alex replied. “Let’s go to my office and talk there. Not in the interview room, you’re not under arrest, let’s just go and talk. Please, we shouldn’t be arguing right next to your brother’s… right next to your brother.”
“I’m angry,” Ben replied, his eyes filled with cold fury. “Well that’s good. You finally noticed. It only took you a decade or so. Now you just need to work out why I’m angry.”
“Your brother just -”
“It’s not that,” he continued. “Really, it’s not.”
Stepping back, he glanced down at Jack for a moment, before turning and heading to the door.
“Where are you going?” Alex called after him.
“You said I’m not under arrest,” Ben replied.
“You’re not, but I still want to talk to you.” Hurrying after him, Alex followed him through to the reception area. “Ben, we owe it to your brother to make sure his killer is brought to justice.”
“You don’t have a hope,” Ben muttered, pushing the door open and stepping out onto the street.
“Ben -”
“It’s the Border,” Ben replied, turning to him. “The stag-headed man comes from the Border. Do those words mean anything to you?”
“The what from the where?”
“I’ve seen him,” Ben continued. “Sort of, anyway. I’ve seen the mask, I’ve seen enough to know what the hell he looks like, and I’ve seen enough of that place to know it should have been destroyed a long, long time ago.”
“What are you talking about?” Alex asked. “You’re not making any sense.”
Ben stared at him for a moment, before allowing a faint, bitter smile to cross his lips. “You really don’t know, do you?” he asked finally. “I always wondered whether maybe you were just really good at covering your tracks. I figured there was no way a man of your stature could be completely ignorant of what’s happening right here in Bowley, but you honestly don’t have a clue, do you? This whole goddamn thing has just gone sailing over your head for decades.”
“What are you talking about?” Alex asked, sounding increasingly exasperated. “Can you please just come to my office and explain?”
Ben paused. “No,” he said finally. “No, I don’t think I can. I think you need to do whatever you’re supposed to do in a situation like this, and just be glad that you’re ignorant, because if you knew what was really going on here, what was really hiding under the surface in Bowley, your heart would break. And that’s the problem, really. When your heart is broken, you need to find some way to hold it together. Anger works just fine.”
Alex watched as Ben walked away.
“What do you mean?” he called out after a moment, but he made no attempt to go after Ben and ask again. Somehow, deep down, he felt as if he’d just come close to learning the truth about the darkness he’d occasionally sensed. He’d always told himself that he was imagining things, that Bowley wasn’t a town with secrets, but now he felt pure fear in his chest at the thought that Ben knew more than he was letting on. Shaken, he turned and headed to his office.
***
“Well when are you coming back?”
“I don’t know. I just called to -”
“This is ridiculous, Ben. You said you were just going to see your family for Christmas, but now -”
“I might not be coming back at all,” he added, interrupting her. Sighing, he closed his eyes, trying to still the sense of chaos that was threatening to shake his skull apart. For a moment, just a few seconds, he felt as if he might have hit a wall, as if after years of ducking and weaving he’d finally got to a point where his only option was collapse. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and realized that the sensation had passed. He’d get through this. He always got through things.
“Ben…” Paula said on the other end of the line, her tone having become much softer, more worried. “Listen to me -”
“I have to do something,” he replied, interrupting her again. “It’s not that I don’t want to come back and see you soon, it’s that I might not be able to.” He turned and leaned against the wall, watching as the life of the town continued all around. People were hurrying in and out of stores, scooping up last-minute Christmas gifts. “I always told you that things could get complicated around me.”
“You did.”
“I can’t keep coming back to Bowley and then running again,” he continued. “I have to do something about all of this.”
“But you might be home in a week or two, right?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you might?” She waited for an answer. “Please, tell me you might.”
“I might.”
“And nothing’s happened, has it? You sound different, like maybe… Are you upset? Have you been crying?”
“Me?” He tried to laugh, but he immediately knew that the effort sounded hopelessly false. “Crying? No, I haven’t been crying. When was the last time you saw me crying?”
“You know,” she continued, “I could come to Bowley and -”
“No.”
“But if it’d -”
“No!” he said firmly. “You’re not to set foot in this place, do you understand? I swear, if -” Stopping suddenly, he became aware of a man who was loitering nearby, ostensibly emptying his coat pockets into a trashcan next to the bench. Eying the man with suspicion, Ben couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps it was someone from the Border, someone who’d been sent to keep track of him. He waited a couple of seconds, before the man turned and walked away, heading toward the hardware store.
“Ben?” Paula said. “What’s so bad about me coming to see you? Are you ashamed of me and -”
“No,” he said, interrupting her again, “I’m not ashamed of anything. Last night, my…” His voice trailed off, and he realized that if he told her about Jack’s death, he wouldn’t be able to keep her away. She was that kind of person. “Look, I will be home, you know I will. Next week, maybe th
e week after, I’m just being melodramatic. I’ll be home as soon as possible, and then we’ll have a fake Christmas to replace this one, and everything’ll be okay.”
“You’re just saying that to keep me from showing up in Bowley.”
“I’m not, I swear.”
She paused. “Look after yourself, Ben. You sound ragged. And call more often. It’d be nice to hear from you at least every other day, if not more. And try to -” Stopping suddenly, she sighed. “Jesus Christ, do you hear me? I sound like some nagging, housebound…” Now it was her turn to fall silent, and a moment later she could be heard swallowing hard on the other end of the line. “Okay,” she continued finally, “I am not going to nag you or complain about you not being here, that’s not the kind of person I am. Just promise you’ll try to get home as soon as you can.”
“I’ll try.”
“And call me occasionally. Just so I know you’re okay.”
“I’ll try.” Looking down at the grass, he began to imagine the Border down there, most likely still active even in the middle of the day. “I’ve got to go,” he added, getting to his feet. “I have things to do.”
“You have to call me tomorrow,” she continued. “It’s Christmas.”
“Sure. And Paula… I love you.”
He waited.
Silence.
“Paula? Did you hear me?”
“I heard you,” she replied, her voice sounding even more strained and worried than before. “I just know you never say that unless you’re really scared.”
IV
“She’s sleeping,” Audrey said as she pulled the door shut, letting it bump gently against the frame. “The kids are in with her, they’re all…” She paused, her eyes filled with tears. “They’re all exhausted. Still, I don’t suppose they’ll sleep for long.”
“You need to sleep too,” Ben replied, leading her through to the dark kitchen. He flicked on one of the lights before heading to the counter and hitting a switch on the side of the coffee machine. “We all need to sleep.”
