Beyond the Dark Waters Trilogy

by Graham West

  “He’ll be here any minute,” she said, staring out of the window.

  “And I’ll let him in,” Jake replied impatiently, “so take a seat and, for God’s sake, relax!”

  Jenny smiled weakly and perched herself on the arm of the chair. At least she could still see the road from that position.

  Jake shook his head. “He’s just some guy, babe. Probably a rookie. He’ll be just as nervous as you, wondering if we’re a couple of inbreeding hillbillies!”

  Jenny turned. “Inbreeding?”

  “I’m joking. But he’ll be some city kid who hadn’t even seen a cow till he got the job. You know how they think—we all chew straw and shag sheep.”

  Jenny didn’t answer. A bright-red Ford Focus had pulled up outside. “He’s here,” she said breathlessly. Jake moved towards the window. She guessed that beneath the façade this was making him nervous too.

  “Well, that’s a typical company car,” he said, trying to sound casual.

  They both watched the door open, and the guy from the magazine got out, glancing up at the cottage as he pulled a black leather briefcase across his chest. He was average height, with black hair gelled back into a fifties rock-star style and black-rimmed spectacles.

  “He looks like Hank Marvin from The Shadows,” Jenny observed.

  Jake laughed. “You are older than you look!”

  “It was Mum who loved them,” she protested. “She had all their stuff.”

  Jake didn’t answer. He was already at the front door.

  ***

  Sebastian Tint turned in his bed, glancing at the alarm clock, a small silver travel piece that had caught his eye several years ago. Even though his travelling days were over, he had treated himself. But now, it was telling him that he’d slept late for the first time in a long time. He’d been caught up in a dream—one that troubled him. A dream about Jenny.

  She had been lying in a pool of blood, and he’d watched helplessly as her spirit left her body, rising slowly like a white mist. He had fought to resuscitate her as the ethereal form hovered over him, waiting to see if it should remain or move on to the next world. He had fought so hard but lost her. She had gone. Sebastian had pulled the blade from her chest and wept, his hand covered in blood, resting on her body—a body still warm but lifeless.

  The old man rose and pulled back the curtains. It was Saturday. He liked weekends, despite them no longer being a two-day respite from a busy week. Jack Norris was out washing his car again—a Saturday morning routine which was only broken by driving rain or hurricane force winds. But today was perfect for the Norrises of this world. The sun was shining and the neighbours were out. Mrs. Carroll was ushering the twins into the car for their weekly tennis lesson at the local leisure centre; the woman had high hopes for those boys. Wimbledon one day, maybe.

  Sebastian turned. He felt cold but the radiator in the hall was hot to the touch. It was harder to keep warm when you got older, he knew that. Even in the summer, the house felt frosty as the sun rose. But this morning, there was ice in his veins. It was too early for brandy but he no longer cared. The dream had unnerved him. He could still see Jenny’s lifeless form, still taste the blood on his lips as he’d tried to breathe life into her body. He smelled something. He smelled death.

  ***

  Peter Aston flashed his badge proudly, introducing himself as the man who was going to make them famous. Not that an appearance in a glossy monthly was going to turn them into celebrities, but it was an introduction that put them both at ease. Jenny watched him closely as he glanced around the room. He nodded approvingly.

  “Very nice!” he said, giving Jake a thumbs up. “Mind if I take a look around?”

  They had both agreed that Jake would accompany their guest on his tour of the property while Jenny made the coffee. “Let’s be traditional,” he had joked. “You do the kitchen thing.”

  She poked him playfully. “Sexist!”

  “Guilty as hell!” he replied, holding up his hands.

  It suited Jenny. She liked being a homemaker. She liked having Jake’s tea on the table and making sure his clothes were washed and ironed. Maybe things would change if her dream job came along, but until then, she was quite happy playing mum in a very expensive Wendy house.

  Peter Aston looked impressed. “It’s a nice place you’ve got here. A really nice place!”

  Jenny couldn’t wait. “So, do you think we’ll make it?”

  Aston nodded. “It’s definitely the kind of thing we’re looking for.”

  Jake looked pleased—as if it were all his own handiwork. “And what about us? Should we be looking for some posh clothes?”

  A smile crossed Aston’s lips. “Well, I don’t see why not. Do you mind if I record our little chat?”

  Jake shook his head. “Feel free. I take it you’ll be taking some test shots, too?”

  “Yeah. Just with my phone. The final decision lies with the editor, of course, but it’s looking good. We’re trying to get away from the middle-aged image, so a young couple like yourselves would be ideal.”

  He pulled out a small Dictaphone and placed it on the arm of the chair. “Thank God for these things,” he said with a grin. “My handwriting is pretty dire.” He pressed record, cleared his throat, and began. “I’m with Jake Huxley and Jenny Adams.”

  Jake shot Jenny a here we go look.

  “So, Jake—what do you do for a living?”

  “I work for my father—I’m a shopfitter. I’m guessing that would make me a joiner.”

  Aston nodded. “And you, Jenny?”

  “I’m at college studying art.”

  “Oh, really. An artist, eh? And I noticed a guitar in your bedroom—who’s the musician?”

  Jenny found herself half raising her hand. Old school habits die hard. “That would be me.”

  Aston seemed impressed. “I love guitar. I wish I was musical. What kind of stuff do you play?”

  “Classical stuff, mainly.”

  “Really? Hey, that’s great. Can’t say it’s my scene, to be honest, but I take my hat off to anyone who can play that stuff. It’s hardly your three-chord rock, is it!”

  Jake patted her arm. “She’s good, too!”

  Aston nodded, but it was obvious he wanted to move on. “How did you come by this place?” he asked. “It’s hardly the kind of area a young couple would choose. I mean, it’s very quiet.”

  “My father bought it as an investment, and when I met Jenny he—”

  “So you’re renting it?” Aston asked.

  Jake bristled. “Kind of. Does that make a difference?”

  Aston thought for a moment. “I suppose not. We aren’t deceiving the readers—you do actually live here.”

  Jake told the story of how his father had found the cottage, but Jenny was no longer listening. She was staring around the room, struggling to focus and trying desperately to fight the sudden feeling of nausea. There were voices in her head, the sound of rushing water in her ears.

  “Babe? Are you okay?” Jake stopped talking mid-sentence and stared at her.

  Jenny shook her head. She wasn’t. “I feel kind of…faint.”

  “Maybe you need some water,” Aston suggested.

  “I’m sorry. I need to go to the bathroom.”

  Jenny found herself climbing the stairs, gripping the handrail and praying that she made it to the toilet before throwing up. The walls moved, closing in, and the bathroom floor rose to meet her as she fell forward. The world spun out of control. Is this how death feels? Is this how it happens? Nothing made sense. Had Jake poisoned her coffee? Had he slipped something in to the cup while she wasn’t looking?

  Jenny felt a hand on her shoulder. “Jake?” she whispered.

  But there was an energy in the touch. A heat that started in her arm and coursed through her veins. The voice in her head echoed like a cry in a cavern: You must give me the power. You must give me your body. Jenny opened her eyes, prostrate on the tiles. The feeling of nausea faded
as suddenly as it had come. She rolled onto her back and sat up, wondering what had happened.

  Jenny returned downstairs. It had been Amelia’s hand—Amelia’s voice—but what did she mean by you must give me your body? Her timing was well off. She was in the middle of an interview, for God’s sake! Jake stood as she walked back into the room. “Are you okay, babe?”

  Jenny nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.”

  Aston studied her. “We just need to ask a few more questions, then I’ll take some photos.” He smiled. “Then there’s a form to sign—to say that I’ve had your permission to take them. It protects you as well. We promise we won’t publish them on social media.”

  Jenny took her seat next to Jake. “That’s fine. What else do you want to know?”

  Aston smiled. “I just need to get as much information as possible, then one of our journalists turns it into an article. I’m only the messenger boy, really.”

  Jake grasped Jenny’s hand suddenly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She turned. There was a look of concern in his eyes. “I think so. Why?”

  “You look like a ghost, and your hands are freezing!”

  Aston frowned. “He’s right,” he added. “You look like a corpse!”

  ***

  Rob took the call from Sebastian in the kitchen. Kayla stared at him anxiously. Her arrival had taken him by surprise. “Robert!” the old man cried. “Thank God! Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah! Why?”

  “I had a dream last night and—”

  “Seb, I’m sorry,” Rob interrupted, “Kayla’s just called in. I’ll ring back, I promise!”

  Rob replaced the receiver. Seb was the only one who called him on the landline, and Kayla looked as if she had never seen anyone use such a contraption.

  “I was worried,” she said. “I’ve had a message from Caden.” She pushed her phone into Rob’s hand. “Look. Read it.”

  Rob peered at the screen.

  Hi sweetie x Everything will be sorted today. Everything you wanted! Xxx Big hugs for my girl.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Rob hissed, glaring at Kayla. She took several steps back, fear in her eyes. “Hey! I’m not going to touch you! I’m just asking!”

  “I don’t know,” she gasped. “I tried to call him but he’s still not answering.”

  Josie stood in the background. “Well, he’s not been here.”

  Rob looked at the message again. “There’s still time, I guess.”

  Kayla looked pale and tired.

  “If he thinks he’s coming around here shouting the odds and I’m just going to roll over and do what he tells me, then he—”

  Kayla shook her head. “But that’s just not like him—”

  “Look,” Rob interrupted. “Maybe you’d better stay for a while. If he hasn’t shown up by tonight…”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you.”

  Josie followed Rob into the kitchen. “Has it occurred to you,” she whispered, “that this might just be a ruse? She obviously wants to spend time with you!”

  Rob took a Coke from the fridge. “What? She sent herself those messages?”

  Josie sighed. “Rob, as much as that girl reminds me that you’re quite capable of cheating, she’s still your daughter. You can’t shut her out of your life forever. She shouldn’t have to trick her way into your heart.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Peter Aston pushed the Dictaphone into his briefcase and pulled out a form. “Right, I think that’s everything. I’ve got all the photos I need, so if you just read through that and sign.”

  Jenny wasn’t up to going through the small print in detail. Something didn’t feel right, but Jake seemed oblivious and snatched the contract from her.

  “I’ll do it,” he said.

  Aston shifted awkwardly, holding the briefcase on his knee as if he was guarding a bag full of diamonds.

  Jake was a fast reader. “You got a pen?” he asked.

  Aston handed him a cheap plastic biro—the kind you would find in a pack of twenty in the supermarket. Jake took it but Jenny saw his expression change.

  “What’s this?” he asked, pointing to something at the bottom of the page.

  “It says ‘C’est Pas fini’.” Aston smiled. “It means that it is not the end.”

  “I know what it means,” he said. “But why is it on this document?”

  “Because it’s not the end of the document—it means that you need to turn over. It’s not a problem, is it?”

  Jenny shivered. The cold hit her like an icy blast. “It’s what was written on the grave!” she said, staring at Aston.

  “It’s just a coincidence, babe,” Jake said, turning the page. But he stopped suddenly. “There’s nothing here. It’s blank.”

  Aston removed his glasses. “Oh dear. I was mistaken. Maybe it was the end. Maybe this is the end. For you.”

  Jenny froze as he pulled a gun from his briefcase, pointing it at their heads. “It’s all been good fun,” Aston said with a wry grin. “I’m almost sorry that the game is over.”

  “For fuck’s sake! Who the hell are you?” Jake cried.

  Aston looked triumphant. “My name’s Caden Reece,” he said, removing the hairpiece and revealing a mop of mousy-brown hair. “And I’ve been watching you for quite some time.”

  “It was you!” Jenny gasped. “You did the graves!”

  Reece nodded. “Yes, it was me. It was a shame about the old guy and the girl, but I had a plan and they threatened to ruin it.”

  “Oh my god!” Jake gasped, grabbing Jenny’s hand. “But why?”

  Reece scowled, his eyes darting from one to the other. “No moves,” he said. “Either of you.”

  “Just tell us why,” Jake repeated.

  “Justice,” he said. “I’m going to reunite the woman I love with her father. The father who rejected her.”

  “But what’s that got to do with us?” Jenny asked.

  Reece stared at her. “Her father is Robert Adams.”

  Jenny glared. “You’re lying!” she hissed “Robert Adams is my dad.”

  “No, he isn’t,” Reece replied angrily. “Your father is dead!”

  “Oh my god!” she screamed, “You’re sick!” Tears welled in her eyes. “Whatever this girl of yours has told you, it’s a lie!”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know who her mother is?” Reece snarled. “The name might ring a few bells, presuming he told you about his sordid little affair with the local hairdresser?”

  Jenny felt as if her heart was about to fail her. “Melissa Ingram! It’s Melissa Ingram!”

  A cruel grin crept across his face. “Mr. Adams obviously wasn’t into using condoms, was he? Naughty! Very naughty!”

  Jenny thought she might pass out again. “She had a daughter?”

  Reece nodded slowly. “And she is just as pretty as you!”

  “Does my dad know?”

  “Yes, of course he knows. Her name is Kayla. She found her father two years ago, but he didn’t want to know. He’s never even bothered to get in touch. What kind of man would do that?”

  Jake groaned, closing his eyes.

  “He chose you, Jennifer. He rejected Kayla because you are just a pathetic, selfish little bitch, and he thought he’d lose you if you knew.”

  For a moment, Jake seemed to forget about the gun. “You fucking sick bastard! Don’t you ever—”

  Caden Reece raised his arm, pointing the barrel directly at Jake’s forehead. “Shut up, fuckwit, or I’ll blow your fucking brains out, just like I did with that girl.” He paused, looking back at Jenny. “So, my dear, you have a sister. But her father—the man who brought you up—kept her a secret. I figured it was time you were out of the way.”

  “What? You’re going to kill me? Us?”

  “It’s the only way, I’m afraid.”

  Bile rose at the back of Jenny’s throat. The fear was like a weight in her chest. “But why? Why didn’t you just go and
talk to my dad—to me? We could have sorted it out! I would have accepted Kayla!”

  Reece raised his eyebrows. “Of course you would. That’s easy to say when death is the only alternative. But the truth is, your father obviously thought you wouldn’t accept Kayla, and he knows you best.”

  “He was worried, that’s all.”

  “Sorry, but it’s too late now. It’s going to be so much easier for Kayla’s father if you’re not around. He can devote himself to his real daughter and give her the attention she deserves.”

  “You’re crazy!” Jake snarled. “You won’t get away with this.”

  “Oh, but I will,” he sneered, handing Jenny six black cable ties. “Now, be a good girl and strap his hands behind his back.”

  Jenny shook her head. “No. I won’t.”

  Reece raised his gun. “Do it.”

  Jake nodded, sitting forward. “It’s okay, babe. You don’t have a choice.”

  Jenny could barely control her trembling hands as she pulled the straps around Jake’s wrists.

  “Now his ankles, and make sure they’re tight.”

  Jenny stooped, wishing she was quick enough to take this psychopath by surprise. She pulled the straps tight and sat up.

  “Now, take off your clothes!” he ordered.

  A silent scream rose in her throat.

  “Take off your clothes!” he yelled.

  “You fucking sick animal!” Jake screamed. “I’m gonna kill you!”

  Reece shrugged. “Really? Don’t you want to watch your girlfriend having sex with another man—a real man with a proper dick?”

  Jenny began to sob, but somewhere in the back of her head she heard a voice. Take him to the bedroom. The voice was clear. She looked up. He was waiting, the gun pointing at her head. “I’ll let you,” she said. “But not in front of him. Let’s go upstairs.”

  Jake stared at her. “What? You’re gonna just let him?”

  Reece looked bemused. “Really? You want me in your bed?”

  Jenny nodded.

  Reece looked at Jake. “Sorry. You’ll have to wait down here. I’ll leave the door open. You can listen.”

  Jenny stood, unable to look back as she climbed the stairs. Reece followed, and his footsteps seemed to echo in her head.