by Ryan Casey
Jared thought of Faith, bruised and broken in that hospital bed. She was right: there was no getting away. He was stuck, they both were.
Raymond slipped his gun back into his pocket. He smiled at Jared, as if the entire previous few minutes hadn’t taken place, or were some sort of stage performance. ‘So, what’s it gonna be?’
Jared just nodded. It was all he could do. His mind was frozen. He turned away from Raymond and walked towards the door.
‘Tomorrow, remember,’ Raymond said, ‘I want them dead, tomorrow, or it’s over, Jared. Don’t let me down, okay?’
Jared’s chest vibrated as he exhaled. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll sort it.’
A tear crept down his face as he walked out of Raymond’s office.
Chapter Eleven
Jared’s head pounded as he sat in his bedroom that night. The lights from outside and the glow from the city’s night life peeked through the gap between his blinds. Why did he have to go to such extremes? Why was it always his responsibility?
His phone buzzed again. He hadn’t checked it all day. He didn’t want to, even though he knew it was probably Brian. He hadn’t showed up at their house today. He needed some time alone to think things through, but he could barely muster up the energy to do so as he hid away in his dark, curtained room.
He curled up like a fetus. No amount of thinking could detract from the fact that he had to do it tomorrow. He had no choice: He had to steal the money and kill them, for his sister. For Raymond. This was the path he had chosen; there was no turning away from that now.
He pulled his bedside drawer open and took a look inside the little blue box he kept in there. He didn’t venture in there often. Only when things were tough, when he needed to remember who he was.
A little black and white photo of him, as a boy, dressed in a white football top, stood holding his arm round the back of his little sister. He thumbed through to the next picture; he was outside at some sort of country walk. His dad carried him on his shoulders, beaming smile across his handsome face.
He threw the photos back into the packet and stretched out on his bed. Reminiscing was no use. It was for the weak, Raymond said. Nostalgia was a counter-productivity—an unnecessary bind to an over-romanticised past. His childhood wasn’t all that great. Sure, the photos looked happy, but he wasn’t ever truly content. Was he?
He closed his eyes and drifted off into a restless sleep.
He was woken by the sound of his phone vibrating against the table. A sickly feeling grew in his stomach. He clenched his eyes together and prayed he’d wake up and find it was all just a dream. No—that was bullshit. Pull yourself together. Deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. One, two… three.
Jared reached for his phone: ‘One new message’ was written across the screen. He opened it. It could only be from one person anyway.
‘I want it done by eight PM. You’re a good man, Jared. Don’t let me down. R.’
Jared scratched his head and etched the time to memory before walking towards the sliding door of his bathroom and running the cold shower. He engulfed himself underneath it, gasping as the icy water stung at his shoulders. He needed to get a grip—to sort himself out. He’d done hundreds of jobs. What was so different about this one?
Jared thought back to the way they’d taken him in, the way Carl had asked about his toy Ferrari.
The warmth as they sat in front of the fire.
No. He had to get his loyalties straight. All that was make-believe—a recipe for unhappiness. He wasn’t one of them, that’s just the way it was.
He stepped out of the shower, shivering, and wrapped a towel around himself. He felt fresher now, his mind somewhat clearer. Sometimes all it took was a cold shower to sort a person’s head out. Moping around in bed in the dark had a weird way of getting under your skin.
Jared slipped into his work clothes. They’d be nothing but empty shells after today, shed like snakeskin, fragments of memories and actions tied to them but ultimately lifeless, along with his identity as Richard. The glare of the side of his handgun caught his eye as the light peeked through his blinds. No time to worry about ‘what if.’ It was happening. He had to do it. There was no other way.
He pulled his trousers on and stuffed the gun back into his pocket. Then he grabbed his keys and left the house, locking the door behind him before setting off to Brian and Cindy’s.
But there was something else he needed to do first.
Jared thumbed the toy Ferrari around in his hand. It was red, just like the one he used to have. He’d scratched it a little bit with his keys so it didn’t look brand new and ditched the box in the back of his van.
He could go inside and kill Cindy right now. He could take Carl out quietly once his mother was down, or even just let him escape—leave him outside. Which would be kinder?
Or, he could just wait until Brian got back—lure him into the study and kill him in there once he’d found where he was keeping the money. He needed to get access to the money somehow.
Take it as it comes and see what works best. The best option will reveal itself. It always did.
Jared got out of the van, taking on his Richard persona for one final time, and walked towards the front door of Brian and Cindy’s house, the smell of freshly cut grass ripe in the air. He hadn’t seen them since Faith’s accident two nights ago. The hospital had left a message on his phone earlier saying that Faith was heading home today. He should have been there for her. He’d have to go see her later, look after her. He just needed to get this done and then he’d be free.
Cindy smiled at Jared as he stepped into the house. ‘Where were you yesterday?’ she asked. ‘We were… well, I was really worried about you… After the other night, you know?’
Jared took a few short breaths and made an audible sigh. ‘I’m really sorry,’ he said. ‘There was an accident. Something with my—something happened to a member of family and I had to rush off. I’m sorry to have barged out on you like that.’
Cindy chewed at her lip and tilted her head, contemplating Jared’s words. ‘We were more worried about you not showing up yesterday. We… we were worried we’d insulted you or something. Brian didn’t stop going on about you for ages. I said, you know, you were probably just busy or something. And I mean… we did say you could have a day off.’
He wanted Cindy to be mad with him. He wanted her to snap into some demonic bitch so it’d make the killing easier. Instead, she stood there, understanding and justifying his own actions.
Jared cleared his throat. ‘I—I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch. Just a hectic day. One of those days, you know? It won’t happen again.’
Cindy nodded as she stepped towards the front room. ‘Well I won’t tell you off, don’t worry. As long as you’re okay.’
Jared scratched the spot where the metal pressed against his leg. ‘I’m alright now, yeah. Should be, anyway. Oh, I got something for Carl. Where is he?’ He wrapped his fingers around it. Just get it done with.
Cindy widened her eyes with shock as Jared pulled the model Ferrari out. ‘Oh, you didn’t have to! It’s such a shame, too. I’ll have to give it to him when he gets back from his gran’s tomorrow.’
A weight lifted from Jared’s shoulders. ‘Oh, he’s… he’s at his gran’s?’ At least it would make things easier, even though he’d never have the chance to give him the toy Ferrari.
Cindy nodded and smiled as Jared placed the toy into her hands.
‘Should I, um… get straight to work?’ Jared asked. He eyed the study.
Cindy walked over to the other side of the kitchen and placed the toy Ferrari next to the sink. ‘Actually, seeing as you’ve been a naughty boy and took the day off yesterday, you can help me fold some of this washing. It’s probably your bloody mess of the tablecloth, anyway.’
Jared grinned. ‘Okay, boss.’
Cindy reached into the washing machine. Now was his chance. He could pop a bullet in her skull whilst she wasn�
��t watching and get it done with.
Then he could lure Brian in the house and finish him. Steal the money—job done.
He fumbled with the gun. Get it done. Finish her while she’s not looking. Do it. Fucking do it. He slipped his finger around the trigger and began to lift it out of his pocket.
Cindy jolted around, and Jared’s arm froze. She smiled up at him, ignoring the edge of the metal poking from his pocket. ‘Are you gonna give me a hand with this or are you going to stand there with your hands in your pants?’
Jared’s muscles twitched as she stared up at him, white table cloth in her hands. He let go of the gun and reached down for the opposite end of the cloth.
You can’t do it. You can’t do it because you want her, and there’s nothing you can do about that.
No—snap out of it. She’s just a target. It will all be over soon. You’ll see sense.
Jared folded the tablecloth, moving in towards Cindy and meeting her eyes. She grinned at him, her tongue poking out between her teeth. They didn’t say anything. Was this what normal life felt like?
She pulled the last thing out of the washing machine and threw it to the side. It was a bra. Jared’s cheeks flushed. He imagined her wearing it, imagined it wrapping itself around her chest.
‘Anyway, I suppose you should get back to work now shouldn’t you, slacker?’ She winked at Jared as she grabbed the bra and edged out towards the living area. ‘The key’s in the door. Brian left it in there in case you came back. He’ll be happy to see you, you know?’
Jared smiled and nodded.
It looked like Plan B would be today’s chosen route.
Jared walked over to the study door and turned the key. He reached up for the light on the wall. With the lack of windows, the room resembled solitary confinement. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the brightness, as usual. He walked over to the filing cabinets to finish his work and glanced at his watch: four PM. Four hours before Raymond came to finish them off himself. Brian should be back shortly, and he’d be able to get it done with then. There was no need for any extra measures: He was a professional.
Something unusual caught his eye over by the bookcase in the corner of the room: in the place of a cabinet, there was a door, slightly ajar and with a set of keys dangling out of the front.
A safe.
But something wasn’t right. Brian didn’t seem like the sort of man to leave a safe wide open. He looked around the room for some sort of surveillance. He’d checked before and there was absolutely nothing, but maybe they’d found a way to spy on him, grown suspicious over the last couple of days, especially after the fiasco at the dinner table.
He walked over to the safe and pulled the door open slightly. Inside, he saw a rucksack, money spilling out of the top.
He could take it to Raymond right now and kill them as soon as they get back. He not only knew the location, but it was right there in front of him.
But something didn’t seem right. Why would Brian be so careless? And he didn’t have to kill them so brutally upon finding the money. They deserved dignity, respect. They were the ideal family. He owed them a little more compassion than the filth he’d dealt with in the past.
Jared resisted the urge to interfere and left the safe door open, the money on offer like a carrot on a stick just meters away from him. At least he knew where the money was now. He pulled a step ladder up next to Brian’s filing cabinet and got started on his top shelf work. More boring, irrelevant stuff: financial reports, tax certificates—stuff he didn’t need to pay much attention to. He was here for one thing.
After some time filing, the sound of heavy footsteps headed into the kitchen. ‘Hello?’ Brian called. ‘Anyone home?’
Jared looked at his watch: six PM. He had two hours left. Two hours to get it done. There was plenty of time. He’d kill them as soon as possible, and then he’d take the money and he’d leave.
Brian popped his head around the study door. ‘Hello, pal,’ he said. ‘Fancy seeing you around.’ He raised his eyebrows in a sarcastic manner.
Jared shuffled his hands through his hair. ‘Sorry about what happened the other day. Family issues. I hope you under—’
‘Richard, you don’t have to explain yourself to me if you don’t want to.’ He smiled and nodded. ‘Just as long as you’re okay now, right?’
Jared sighed. ‘Things are alright. Just my sister. Been through a bit of a rough time. But we’ll get through it.’
Brian stared on at Jared as he spoke. ‘Well, come through and have some dinner with us when you’re ready,’ he said. ‘Nothing like a bit of hospitality, right? And you seem to have done a great job here. I’m impressed.’
Jared nodded his head and rubbed his eyes. Could he have dinner with them, perhaps? Could he stretch his time to accommodate that? It was a risk. He’d see. Maybe he’d get it done after they’d finished eating. There was time for that, wasn’t there?
‘Sure,’ Jared said. ‘I’ll see you in there. I’ll just get this done with.’
Brian nodded and paused. Jared clocked his eyes, looking towards the keys in the safe. Brian’s mouth opened as if he was preparing to say something before his jaw snapped shut again. He coughed, nodded, and left the room.
He knew Jared had seen him looking. There was a moment of recognition. Perhaps he was looking into it too much, but he’d become a good judge of character over the years. He knew what recognition looked like: a slight twinkle in the eyes, an uncomfortable scratching of the arm, a cough.
There was no doubt in Jared’s mind that Brian had planted the keys. He was testing him.
Jared’s stomach sank with inevitability as he placed the final slip of paper into a folder. There was no getting away from it now: he’d take the money after dinner, and then he’d kill them.
He rose from his stool and walked through into the kitchen area. He left the study door slightly ajar. He took a deep breath and headed in towards the dining room, painting on his best smile. Just one more act as Richard, Jared. Just one more act, and then this was all over, for good.
Brian stuffed huge chunks of chicken into his mouth, tucking into his food as soon as Cindy placed it on the table. It was the best chicken for miles, he’d said. Local bloke bred the chickens himself, let people go choose the nice and plump ones before they were killed.
It all just tasted like chicken to Jared.
‘So, Jared, why is it you don’t have a wife again? Or even a partner for that matter?’ Brian dangled a wine glass under his chin.
Cindy frowned and widened her eyes. ‘Absolutely obsessed. He doesn’t have to—you don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to,’ she said, turning to face Jared. ‘Brian never has been the most subtle of conversation starters, the monster.’
Jared took a sip of the wine to wash away the growing lump in his throat and smiled at Cindy. ‘It’s okay. I guess I’m just on a break right now. I mean, I’m not saying I’m not dating anybody. Just taking things slow. I’ve had a rough few months relationship-wise, so I’m just having fun.’
Brian narrowed his eyes as he chewed on a piece of asparagus. ‘Nothing like a good fuck around, in other words?’ He winked at Jared.
Cindy shook her head. ‘Excuse my boyfriend’s manners. Richard—you enjoy yourself while you can. You don’t want to get settled down with a brutish woman who’ll boss you around.’ She gestured over to Brian who winced, reaching down for his leg as a piece of food slipped onto his chin.
Jared felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He reached in and looked at it: Raymond. ‘One hour. Don’t let me down kiddo.’ Jared looked up at Brian, who glanced at Jared before looking back at his food. Cindy continued to smile, slicing her meal into small portions and savouring every mouthful.
This was it. He had to make a move now or it would get a whole lot messier. He’d go to the study, take the money, and work it out from there. ‘Just give me a moment…’ Jared said. ‘Just need to nip to the loo.’
Brian nodded a
s Jared pushed his chair aside and walked out of the dining room. He clasped his hands against his knees and took a deep breath from the stomach. The head rush from being sat down, probably from the wine too, sent colours floating through his vision.
Deep breath. Almost over.
He edged towards the stairs and noticed the study door, slightly ajar. He turned back to the dining room—heard knives clatter against plates, the two of them conversing.
‘Fuck it,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Fuck it.’
He bombed towards the study and stumbled through the door. The colours were growing in his eyes. Stay focused. Just take the money and go from there. Simple. He walked over towards the safe, his stomach cramping. Maybe it was the chicken. A piece of it had looked slightly pinkish inside. Or maybe it was the wine.
The wine.
That unusual tang as he’d taken the first sip, dismissed as the remnants of a dishwasher tablet. But the colours and the cramps, they…
He crouched down on his knees and across the study floor, clutching his stomach, his heart thumping against his chest. He just needed to get the money. But the wine—they couldn’t have, could they?
There was only one way to be certain.
Jared shoved his cold fingers down his throat and tickled the back of his tongue with his uncut nails. After a few scratches, he choked, spluttering a warm acidic concoction down his hand. He pulled his fingers out of his throat, a string of saliva dangling from his fingertips, then shoved them back in again. He retched, even more hot acid seeping up into his mouth. It didn’t matter if they heard him. The toilet was next to the study, so hopefully it didn’t sound too obvious that he was in here. He just needed the money and the colours in his eyes to disappear…
He wiped his mouth and rubbed his fingers against his jeans as he pulled himself back to his feet. His head went heavy as he stood up, wobbling on his neck. He stumbled towards the safe, the key still dangling from the door, luring him in. Maybe he’d steal the money and get some to his sister. Get away from here. Just needed to get away…
