The Cove: a shocking thriller you won't be able to put down (The Devil's Cove Book 1)

by Malcolm Richards

  Dylan killed the engine and unhooked his seatbelt. “I’ll take Melissa in first and make sure the coast is clear,” he said.

  Carrie watched as he climbed out and a second later, helped Melissa out of her booster seat. The two hovered by the garden gate as Dylan checked the street. Giving Carrie a quick nod, he swept Melissa into his arms and carried her toward the house.

  Carrie twisted around and faced Cal, attempting to peer through the dark lenses of his glasses. All she saw was her own face, worried and lined, peering back.

  “Are you ready?”

  Cal remained still.

  Getting out of the car, Carrie took a second to scan the street herself. Sunday afternoon had been a good choice to return home. People didn’t venture out much past lunch time. Satisfied no one was watching, she opened the rear passenger door.

  “You have to undo your seatbelt,” she said.

  Cal glanced down and touched the seatbelt.

  “It’s the red button, you have to push it.”

  Had he really forgotten?

  She watched as he slowly depressed the button, releasing the seatbelt. He jumped at the click. Carrie waited as he climbed awkwardly out of the car. She reached a hand to steady him before closing the door, then cast another quick glance at her neighbours’ houses. The thought of the press descending tomorrow made her stomach tumble and flip. She just hoped it would be over and done with in a day or two, with another story coming along to steal the attention.

  She gently grasped Cal’s elbow, who was also nervously scanning the street. He flinched but did not pull away.

  “Come on.” Together, they walked to the house. When they reached the doorstep, Cal froze.

  “It’s okay,” Carrie said. “You’re home now. You’re safe.”

  Behind his dark glasses, she couldn’t tell if Cal remembered the house at all. She gave a gentle push on his elbow and they stepped inside. Cal stopped still again. She felt the muscles beneath his skin tighten. Dylan and Melissa were in the kitchen. Melissa was talking incessantly, as if it were a perfectly ordinary day. Dylan was quiet, just as he’d been in the car. And for days now.

  Pushing worry from her mind, Carrie took Cal’s jacket and hung it up. “I’ll show you around,” she said. “Maybe it’ll jog your memory.” Cal was unmoving. “You can take those glasses off now. You don’t need to wear them indoors.”

  His movements slow and unsure, Cal reached up and carefully removed the glasses. Blinking, he stared at the hall, his eyes coming to rest on a wall of family photographs. He leaned into a picture of Carrie, Dylan and Melissa, that had been taken last Christmas.

  Carrie took the glasses from him and gently tugged him away from the picture.

  The first stop on the tour was the living room.

  “It looks a little different than before,” she said. “The walls used to be blue, I think.”

  Now they were a burnt orange. The carpet was long gone, the exposed floorboards varnished. Even the furniture was different.

  Cal hovered in the doorway, reluctant to go in.

  Next, Carrie led him to the kitchen, where Melissa sat at the table, preoccupied with paper and colouring pencils. Dylan was busy pulling food out of cupboards. A fresh chicken sat in a dish, ready for roasting. Both he and Melissa looked up as they entered.

  It had been given a fresh coat of paint but the kitchen mostly remained unchanged. Cal looked around, his eyes coming to rest on Melissa, who was busy drawing a picture of what looked like a horse.

  “You used to do the same thing,” Carrie said. She felt a sudden stab of sadness. Seven years. Lost forever. But she had thought her son was dead. Seven years was more than a fair exchange for his return.

  Dylan cleared his throat. “Do you like chicken, Cal?” he asked.

  Cal flinched and stared at the floor.

  “I’m sure he does,” Carrie said. “Everyone likes chicken.”

  “Except vegetarians,” Melissa said, looking up.

  Both Dylan and Carrie stared at each other.

  “And where did we learn such a big word like that?” Carrie said.

  Melissa swapped her blue pencil for a red. “School.”

  “Well, aren’t you my little super brain?”

  Leaving the kitchen, Carrie led Cal upstairs. She took the steps slowly, watching him as he moved. She was being overcautious, she knew, but he seemed so fragile. As if one misstep would break him into a thousand pieces.

  He glanced up, catching her eye. His face was expressionless.

  She wished she could tell what was going through his mind. This had to be strange for him, just as it was for Dylan and Melissa.

  They reached the top of the stairs and paused on the landing.

  “This is the bathroom,” Carrie said, pushing open the first door on her left. It was a tiny room, white tiles on the walls, turquoise linoleum on the floor. There was enough space for a bathtub and shower, toilet and sink. “You used to love taking a bath. You had this little toy boat with a motor. It went around and around. You’d pretend you were. . .”

  She clamped her jaw shut. You’d pretend you were a pirate sailing the ocean. The ocean that took you from me.

  Cal stared at the empty bath.

  They moved on. Cal slowed to a halt outside the next door. A colourful sign was fixed in the centre: MELISSA’S ROOM.

  Carrie thought she saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes. She pushed the door open.

  Melissa’s room was large and colourful. Her bed sat up against the far wall. Large cushions were scattered across the floor. Boxes of toys overflowed on the opposite side. In the window, a row of dolls and soldiers stood guard.

  “Do you remember this room?”

  Cal stepped inside. He turned a half circle.

  “I know this is weird,” Carrie said. “This used to be your room. But Melissa has so many things, she needed the space.”

  She watched, her heart in her throat, as Cal continued to turn. His gaze rested on the toys standing on the window sill. His hand slipped into his right pocket and pulled out his toy T-Rex.

  “Let me show you your new room,” Carrie said.

  Cal didn’t move. His eyes flicked from left to right. Was he remembering something?

  “Cal?”

  His eyes found hers. If he was upset, his blank expression hid it well. He followed her out to the hall, where she led him to the next room. There was no sign on this door. It was as blank as Cal’s face.

  “This is your new bedroom,” Carrie said, opening the door. She stepped aside. The room was half the size of Melissa’s, with just enough space to fit in a bed, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers.

  “I know it’s not much right now. I thought maybe we could work on it together.”

  Cal stared at the room. His fist tightened around the T-Rex.

  Brushing past him, Carrie went to the wardrobe, where a few garments hung inside.

  “I bought you some clothes.” She removed a red hooded top and held it up. “I’m not sure if you like them. I don’t really know what sixteen-year-old boys wear these days.”

  Cal stared at the hooded top, then at Carrie. His blank face was beginning to unnerve her. And then it changed. It was subtle. A narrowing of the eyes. A tightening of the lips.

  He turned and left the room.

  Carrie stood for a moment, feeling like the world’s shittiest mother as she heard him open the door to Melissa’s room.

  “Cal...” She followed him, arriving in time to see him cross the room and push Melissa’s toys on the window ledge to one side. He set the plastic dinosaur down and turned it to face the room. He took a step back and glared at Carrie.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Sorry for giving up hope. For believing you were dead. For replacing you. “I know it’s different. I know things have changed. But it’s going to be okay. We can make it work.”

  A crease in Cal’s brow caught Carrie’s attention. Good, she thought. It may have been anger he was feeling,
but at least he was feeling something.

  “As soon as you’re well enough, how about we take a trip into Truro and go shopping for your room? You can choose the curtains. The quilt. We’ll get some posters, whatever you like.”

  She suddenly realised she had no idea what Cal liked. Or if he had any idea either.

  “What do you think? You can paint the walls any colour you want. We’ll make it yours. Any way you want it.”

  Cal looked up. He stood still for a while longer, swaying from side to side. Slowly, he turned back to the window, picked up the Tyrannosaurus Rex, and returned it to his pocket.

  Carrie’s shoulders loosened a fraction.

  Mother and son stared at each other.

  “Let me show you the garden,” Carrie said. “I think one of your footballs is still around somewhere.”

  Cal followed her out of the room like an obedient puppy.

  As they descended the stairs, the question Carrie had been desperate to ask him, forced its way into her mouth. It was too early. The doctors had warned her: only ask when he’s ready. She sealed her lips. The words pushed against them.

  What happened to you?

  13

  DINNER WAS ROAST CHICKEN with potatoes and greens. Dylan and Carrie sat at opposite ends of the kitchen table with the children in between. Melissa held one of her dolls and was busy braiding its long hair while staring at Cal every few seconds.

  “Sweet pea, what have I told you about bringing toys to the table?” Carrie said.

  Melissa let out a long sigh. “Not supposed to.”

  “Exactly. So, can you please give me Cara?”

  Glancing at her father, then back at her mother, Melissa heaved her shoulders and begrudgingly handed over the doll.

  “Thank you.”

  Carrie dumped the doll in her lap. Beside her, Cal was watching Dylan carve the chicken. His eyes focused on the carving knife as it glided through the cooked white flesh.

  “Are you hungry?” Carrie asked him.

  He remained silent, his attention on the meat.

  Carrie looked up at Dylan, who raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, I hope you’re hungry, Cal,” he said. “I’ve cooked enough food to feed a fishing fleet.”

  Cal placed his hands on the edge of the table. Rex the dinosaur was still clutched in his left hand.

  “That’s not fair!” Melissa cried, pointing a finger in his direction. “No toys at the table.”

  “She’s right,” Dylan said.

  “No toys at the table!” Melissa repeated, this time directly at Cal.

  He stared at her.

  “It’s true, Cal,” Carrie said, leaning in. “It’s the same rule we had when you were younger. Toys are for playtime. Could you please put it away?”

  Cal removed his hands from the table, slipping the dinosaur inside his pocket.

  “You’re supposed to give it to Mummy,” Melissa said. She waited for him to do so. When he didn’t, she screwed her little face into an angry scowl. “Why doesn’t he speak? He’s being rude.”

  “And now you’re being rude,” Carrie said. “You know why. We’ve already talked about it.”

  “But he’s still got—”

  She fell silent at the sight of her mother’s glare then pushed her lip out to its fullest extent.

  “Okay, who wants chicken?” Dylan said. He began dishing out slices of the white meat.

  “Chicken is a bird,” Melissa said, pulling her face into a scowl.

  Carrie suppressed a smile.

  “Here you go, Cal.” Dylan set a plate in front of him. “Help yourself to potatoes.”

  Cal stared at the chicken on his plate. He lowered his head and inhaled through his nostrils. His eyelids grew heavy then fluttered.

  Dylan smiled. “Smells good, huh?”

  As quick as lightning, Cal grabbed the chicken from his plate. He opened his mouth wide and crammed the meat inside. He lunged again, grabbing a potato from the dish. It was hot and he winced, dropping it on his plate. He grabbed another one and dropped it into his lap.

  Dylan’s jaw dropped. Carrie drew in a breath. Across the table, Melissa’s eyes grew as round as the dinner plates.

  “Cal, no,” Carrie said, trying to keep her voice calm and low. “That’s not how we eat here. Use your knife and fork.”

  His cheeks full, grease smeared across his lips, Cal stared down at the cutlery. Slowly, he picked up his fork and turned it over.

  “And we wait until everyone has food on the plate.”

  Clamping his jaw shut, Dylan spooned potatoes and vegetables onto the other plates and passed them around.

  Cal finished chewing the food in his mouth. He swallowed, hard. His eyes fixed hungrily on the rest of his dinner but he made no move to eat it.

  “Okay, good,” Carrie said. “And now everyone has their food we can eat.”

  She watched as Cal stared at his fork. His animalistic behaviour had shocked her. Again, she found herself asking the same question. What had happened to him these last seven years? She felt a sudden wave of nausea rack her body.

  “Sweetheart, are you okay?” Dylan stared at her from across the table, concern lining his features.

  She nodded. “Fine. Let’s just eat.”

  She speared some chicken. She waited until Cal had done the same. He watched her, as if waiting for permission. She nodded. They both began to eat. Across the table, Melissa’s gaze moved from mother to son.

  “Eat up, sweet pea,” Dylan said.

  Her lower lip still poking out, Melissa picked up a fork and began to eat.

  Carrie’s shoulders relaxed a little. Okay. This is good. Close enough to a normal family as we’re going to get for one day.

  “Angus wants me back on the boat this Thursday,” Dylan said, with a mouthful of potato.

  Carrie frowned. “I thought you were taking this week off. You said you were going to be around.”

  “I know. But they’re already a man down. If there’s not enough men, things get tricky. You know what it’s like. Besides, I’ve already taken a week off. Plus the shop’s been closed and next week is the last of the season. Things are tight. We need the money.”

  “I know that. It’s just. . .” Carrie lowered her voice, which she knew was stupid because her children weren’t deaf. “It’s our first week together as a family. A newer, bigger, family.”

  Dylan nodded as he harpooned a potato. “I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped. I’m here till Thursday. That’s another few days. The press will be gone by then.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Carrie glanced at Cal, whose face was lined with concentration as he fumbled with his knife and fork.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” she said. She returned her attention to her son. “How’s the food?”

  Cal’s mouth was full. He had almost cleared his entire plate, while the others had only just started.

  “You might want to slow down there, buddy,” Dylan said, smiling. “It’s not going out of fashion anytime soon.”

  Melissa’s eyes grew wide as she watched Cal force an entire potato into his mouth. Then, picking one up from her plate, she copied him, pushing it all the way into her mouth with two fingers.

  “Melissa Killigrew, what do you think you’re doing?”

  Melissa glared at her mother. Across the table, Dylan covered his mouth with his hand.

  “It’s not funny,” Carrie said, before covering her own mouth and turning away. Encouraged, Melissa picked up some chicken with her hand and crammed it into her mouth.

  Before Carrie could chastise her, her attention was drawn to movement behind Dylan’s head. A man stood outside the kitchen window, a camera held up to his face, snapping pictures of the Killigrews at dinner. Carrie recognised him in an instant. It was the journalist from the other day.

  Dylan spun around. “Fucking asshole!”

  “Don’t swear in front of the kids.” Carrie’s eyes were frozen on the journalist, who sl
owly lowered his camera.

  Dylan sprang to his feet. “I’ll kill him. I’ll put him in the ground.”

  The man began to back away.

  “Don’t go out there,” Carrie said. “Don’t make this worse.”

  But Dylan was already moving to the back door in large strides. He threw open the door. The journalist turned and ran. Dylan chased after him, bellowing at the top of his lungs.

  At the table, a terrible, high-pitched wail escaped from Cal’s lips. Slipping from the chair, he ducked beneath the table and started to scream.

  Melissa dropped her fork with a clatter.

  Carrie jumped up, just one thought racing through her mind: Dylan was going to do something stupid. She needed to go after him.

  She froze, her eyes moving from the open door to her son’s feet sticking out from beneath the table. Cal’s screams were like metal tearing.

  “Everything’s okay,” Carrie soothed. “There’s nothing to be scared of, I promise.”

  Melissa’s open mouth formed a perfect circle. Cal stopped screaming and began whimpering like an injured animal. Shouts and yells came in through the open door. Carrie found Cal’s feet again. She crouched down. He was on his knees, his trembling body folded over, his head touching the ground.

  “Cal...” Carrie felt her heart break a little. She reached out a hand but didn’t touch him. “It’s okay. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.”

  The shouts were growing louder, more intense. She felt a flash of anger. Why couldn’t Dylan ever deal with things calmly?

  “Mummy?” Melissa’s round face peeked underneath the table. “What’s Cal doing?”

  “It’s okay, sweetie. He’s a little frightened, that’s all.”

  Carrie reached out and placed a hand on Cal’s back. He flinched. She held it there and whispered soothing words in his ear. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  She could hear footsteps, returning to the kitchen. Poking her head out from beneath the table, she saw Dylan close the door and move to the kitchen window. He pulled the blinds, plunging the room in darkness, then flipped the light switch on the wall.

  Dylan’s face was red, his pupils black and wide.