by Vi Carter
“I’d like to take some flowers to the grave.” I stand, and don’t hold her gaze, to give her a moment to gather her lies. When I look back at her she’s half smiling.
“The grave is far away. With his family.”
“Still. I would like to visit it as a mark of respect.”
She gives me a tight smile, and I’m wondering if she is as good at detecting a lie as she is handing them out. “Of course. St. Colmcille's Cemetery. Monalty.”
I walk right up to her and notice the nervous flicker in her eyes. “I never got his name.” I frown like I’m trying to think of it.
“Mark.”
I place the cup in the sink.
“Mark Forks.” She finishes.
“You didn’t keep his name?” I say while rinsing the mug.
“No.” Her words are sharp. “I better get Willow ready for church.”
“Are you going to pray, too?”
She jerks her gaze at me and fights not to narrow her eyes. “No, I have a beauty appointment this morning.”
She had rehearsed that lie. The more I am around Catherine, the more I can see through her bullshit. She must have fed that one to my father this morning, as it has a ring to it, like this isn’t her first time telling it. Once she leaves the kitchen, I think of lingering until Willow comes down, but I have a better idea. I’ll see her in church. She can’t avoid me there. I’ll make sure of it.
“I’ve been standing out here for a few minutes. Didn’t want you to think I was a nosy bastard but… have you got a minute?”
“I do think you’re a nosy bastard,” I say to Blitz as I refill a fresh mug of coffee. “You want one?”
“Nah.” He’s not in his usual white shirt and slacks. Today he’s sporting a hoodie and no glasses. Something was up. He seemed almost nervous.
With my coffee in hand, I make my way to the room we use for business.
“This is going to sound fucked up; I’ve been debating saying something, but fuck it, if I don’t, I’ll regret it.”
Blitz has my full and undivided attention. I lean against the sideboard, and he looks antsy.
“Sit the fuck down, Blitz. You're making me uncomfortable.”
He does immediately, and that’s more worrying. He touches his face as if his glasses are still there but pauses when he realizes they aren’t.
“You remember that boy, Roger Smith? The one the Rat Pack gave up?”
I nod. “Yeah. The one that Fox shot?” The coffee grows sour in the pit of my stomach, and I place the cup on the sideboard.
Blitz rubs his jaw. “Yeah. It was weird that day. That guy was terrified of Fox. I mean, like, I’ve never seen fear like it. It may as well have been you in front of him.” He frowns. “When he got up, he had run two feet before Fox shot him in the back of the head.”
It’s been bothering me too. But I don’t speak my mind. “What are you trying to say to me?” I push off the sideboard.
“Look, Rian, I’m just telling you what I saw.” He takes a box of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket but doesn’t light one up. Instead, He taps the box repeatedly with the lighter.
“The guy’s fear was crazy.”
“Are you jealous he wasn’t more afraid of you?”
“No. Something isn’t right. I don’t know what, but …” He trails off.
If what he is saying is true, then I agree. Fox shooting someone is out of character. People don’t fear him normally, but that didn’t mean that some kid wouldn’t fear him.
“Look. I appreciate you telling me. But I trust Fox with my actual life. He and that kid must have had their reasons.”
Blitz takes out a cigarette and places it behind his ear before rising. “Yeah. I’m sure you're right.” Blitz doesn’t think so. It’s as plain as day on his face.
“I’ve got to go to church.”
Blitz smirks at that. “You, at church?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t touch the holy water.” The lightness in Blitz’s voice has me settling a bit. I didn't want him to be suspicious of Fox, yet he had voiced my own uncertainty about what actually happened.
***
“A reading from the first letter of Paul to the Corinthians,”
Willow glances up at the packed church. Her gaze skims across the top of their heads. Her confidence shines through her dark eyes. She glances back down at the scripture in front of her. I dip my finger into the holy water just to test; nothing happens, and I step into the church. I didn’t go to church. I had no belief in God. So many people believed in all this, but I didn’t think shit happened because of God. Shit happened because we made it happen.
“Be ambitious for the higher gifts.” Willow’s voice carries across the church and I keep taking steps up the middle aisle. Murmurs grow at each step I take. Willow glances up, and her voice halters when her gaze meets mine. I smile at my beauty.
“And I am going to show you a way that is better than any of them.” She’s speaking slowly while still looking at me. “If I have all the eloquence of men or of angels, but speak without love,”
Her gentle voice makes me want to listen to what she is saying. She’s glancing from the scripture to me and I can see she’s clearly rattled.
“I am simply a gong booming or a cymbal clashing.” She exhales loudly. “A reading from the first letter of Paul to the Corinthians.” She takes the slip of paper and is ready to come off the stand.
I start to clap because that was fucking beautiful, even if I didn’t understand a word she said. My claps ring out, and I don’t give a shit as everyone stares at me. The only one that consumes me is a startled looking Willow, and then she smiles. I glance at the people around me.
“Applaud. Her reading was fantastic.” Claps start slowly but soon spread across the church. Willow’s cheeks darken as she steps off the altar. Father Cooney follows heavy on her heels.
“You can’t disrupt my mass.”
“I’m not.”
“Sit down, Rian.” His words are growled, and his white collar doesn’t mean shit to me.
“I’d rather stand.” Willow reaches us, and her gaze wavers. The clapping is dying out, but not completely. I glance at everyone, and they pick up the tempo.
“Aren’t you going to applaud Willow on her reading?”
“Rian.” Willow steps closer. Her voice is low, but I don’t miss the note of pleading in it.
“I want you out of my church.” Father Cooney can’t hide his distaste.
“Not very holy of you, Father.” I smirk.
“Get out, now.” He’s trying to keep all that anger at bay. He needs to get laid.
I reach out, and I’m surprised when Willow doesn’t stop me from wrapping my fingers around hers. She doesn’t say anything as I walk down the middle aisle with her hand in mine. Each time I glance over at her, she appears dazed and unsure. Each step is filled with hesitation and then it leaves her eyes.
When we reach the double doors, I glance back to see the whole church watching. “Do continue, Father.”
I grin as I take Willow away from the hypocrite that Father Cooney is.
I’m waiting for Willow to say something about me interrupting her at church, but she doesn’t. “As much as I like this obedient and unfearful Willow, I’m confused.” I stop walking and release Willow’s hand.
“Maybe I’m sick of hiding.” She tucks her hands behind her back.
I’m watching her like I might watch Catherine. I don’t like this switch. “You’ve been hiding from me the last few days.”
“I needed space.” She shrugs, and her hands reappear. “I had a lot to think about.”
I didn’t think she was lying, but something isn’t sitting right with me. I reach out and take her hand again and continue our walk to the car.
“So, what do you want to do?” I ask.
“Are we not going to work?”
I pause at the door. “Do you want to go to work?”
She won’t meet my eye.
Something is definitely up. I will find out—she can’t hide anything from me.
“Okay.” She climbs in, and I grin at the crown of her head.
Oh, Willow. You have no idea how easily I can read you.
“Thanks for not telling my mother I told you the truth about …” She shrugs. “You know.. my dad.”
“No problem. We were actually talking in the kitchen this morning.” I glance at Willow and she shifts nervously as I drive out of the car park.
She doesn’t ask me what about, and I’m wondering how long it will take her to ask me. I continue driving.
“Anything interesting?” She’s trying to sound like it doesn’t really matter, and now I know it does.
“Nothing, really. Just small talk.”
More silence falls around us, and it feels heavy for the first time. I just want her to be honest with me.
“Did you kill Chad?”
Her question has me relaxing. That’s what’s on her mind. “Yes, I did.” I answer honestly as I take a left down the road towards the airstrip. “I couldn’t have him waking up and identifying me.”
The barrier is lifted, and we enter the car park.
“How did you do it?” Willow sounds like she doesn’t want to know, so I have no idea why she’s asking. I stop the car close to the side door.
“Why?” I ask her. I’m just curious why she wants to know. I turn to her, but she stares out the windshield.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter.” She unbuckles her belt.
“I smothered him.”
Her head snaps up to me like I’ve said something barbaric.
She nods. “But how? Wasn’t Detective Lacy watching?”
“I had Blitz distract him while I did it. I had myself admitted with an infection.” My hand is still bandaged and I did have an infection from the cut.
She’s staring at me. Her pulse flickers in her neck.
“Why are you so curious?”
Someone moving outside the building catches my attention. It’s Fox, he starts limping his way over to my car.
“Don’t know, really,” Willow says and gets out.
Fox smiles at Willow, but it looks manic on his pale face. I can’t stop thinking about Blitz’s doubts when I see Fox. He reaches in and takes a piece of paper out of his pocket.
“I was able to get you a name and address from that registration.”
I take the slip of paper from Fox but don’t open it. Willow stands close, and she’s leaning in trying to see. I glance at her, and she quickly looks away. Her behavior is strange.
“Any more news on the Rat Pack?”
Fox nods and glances at Willow.
“She knows about them, so speak freely.”
Fox stands a little straighter. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
I laugh at that. “Why do you always have both?”
He grins. “I’m all about choices.”
We start to walk to the door.
“The good news first.”
“The market under our feet has gone.”
I pause. “Gone?”
“I sent down two scouts, and it’s all been packed up.”
“Who told you to send down scouts?” I take a step closer to Fox, but he doesn’t shy away from me.
“You were in the hospital; I had to make a decision. I make them all the time.”
I stare at him and his stare back doesn’t falter. “The bad news?”
“Fredrick is missing.”
“I was talking to him the other day.”
“Well, he’s a no show, so once again, I sent scouts to his house.”
Fox reaches the door and opens it. He pauses and turns to me. “His house was empty. I think he’s skipped out on us.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
WILLOW
I’m hearing their words over my racing heart. Rian arriving at the church was everything. The way he had looked at me up on the altar like I was an angel. At first, I had wanted him to stop, but his claps lifted me ten feet into the air. I feel so stupid.
I had left with him because somehow he gives me peace, but I also need him to save my family. My heart feels heavy as he continues to talk to Fox while glancing at me.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
“Are you okay to go by yourself?” He asks. Fox’s lips thin out with impatience. I get the feeling he doesn’t like me, but I don’t like him either. He gives me the creeps.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I give a quick smile before he sees through my act, which I think I’m doing poorly. The recorder in my pocket feels like a grenade, and I think how stupid it was of me to bring it into a black market that had the most dangerous people here.
I push the bathroom door open and dash into one of the cubicles. My hands tremble as I take the recorder out of my pocket and stop it. Closing my eyes, I try to control my breathing. The noise of the bathroom door opening has me holding my breath. I wait until whoever it is turns on a tap and I slowly lift the lid off the top of the toilet. Placing the recorder in the water, I pause as it starts to sink.
The person turns off the tap, and I can’t put the lid on. What if someone finds the recorder. I pull it out as quietly as possible. Sweat has started to gather along my brows. Opening the recorder, I take out the wet, small tape before dropping the recorder back in the water. Once I have the lid on, I flush the toilet. The door closes as the person leaves. Taking the small tape, I tuck it into my sock.
Two days before…
“I want to speak to Detective Lacy.”
“Who can I say is asking for him?” The female cop is more interested in what she is writing on a yellow sheet of paper than me.
“Willow.” I glance around me, feeling almost dirty in a place like this.
“Second name?” She glances up with a bored expression on her face.
“Steele,” I say and her eyes widen as she pushes back her chair. “Wait here.”
I wasn’t going anywhere. It doesn’t take long for Lacy to open the door and let me in the back of the cop station.
“Willow.” His smile is nice and his eyes soft. I’m hoping he will hear me out. Maybe I’ll get lucky with him.
“Thank you for seeing me, ”I say the moment we sit down in his office.
“What can I help you with?” He’s sitting back in his seat, and I’m not sure where to start.
“I know the deal you have with my mother.”
His chair creaks as he sits forward.
“I want to make my own.”
He raises a brow for me to continue.
“My father beat my mother daily. I was only ten when I shot him.” Sweat trickles down my back, saying these words makes my crime even more real to me.
“I will sign a confession. I buried him. I killed him. It’s my crime.”
He smiles sadly and sits back in his chair. Joining his hands together at the tips of his fingers, it’s like he’s thinking over my words.
“You were ten, only a child. A child driven by a need to protect her mother.”
I nod. He’s understanding what I am saying.
“That could hold up in court. But your mother was the adult who covered it up and buried your father in the back garden.”
“I’ll say I did it.”
“No one would ever believe that.”
My heart pounds.
“I will ask for the chair for your mother and a life sentence for you if you don’t deliver Rian to me.” So much for having soft eyes.
“What happens to Rian?”
“Do you know how many people he has killed?”
I shake my head and look away. This isn’t going well.
“Hundreds, we think. He’s a mass murderer and deserves to be behind bars. You, on the other hand….”
His voice has softened trying to lull me into his version of my story.
“An innocent child. Your mother, a victim of domestic violence. I don’t want to have to put you both away, Willow. My
hands are tied on this one.”
“You are so full of shit,” I say, leaning forward.
He smiles. “Your mother has seventy-two hours to deliver Rian to me, or I start the proceedings against you. If you deliver Rian, your father’s case will be a suicide.”
“What? My father shot himself and dug his own grave? Dragged his own corpse out back? I’d love to see that stick.”
Detective Lacy smiles. “I can make anything stick, Willow. Get me him confessing to a crime or bring me something and I will bury this for you.”
“What about Fox or Blitz?” My heart pounds as I say their names. I’m sure Rian would kill me for handing them over, but maybe he would understand.
“The only person I want is Rian. Fox and Blitz are foot soldiers. I want Rian.”
The door to the bathroom opens again and the feel of the tape in my sock is like a bomb. What am I thinking? Rian would kill me if he knew. I don’t think us sleeping together would save me. He had suffocated Chad as he lay in the hospital in case he identified him. I reach down and touch the tape and I had his confession. That is if it isn’t watered damaged now.
“Willow.” Rian’s voice is right outside the door. My heart slams against my ribcage and I can’t speak. This sense of betrayal is too much for me to bear right now. It is upsetting my system.
“Willow, I know you’re in there.” A shadow cast at the base of the door.
“I’m nearly done.” My voice shakes too much.
The shadow moves away. “I’ll be outside.”
My stomach roils and I swallow the bile that threatens to spill. Tears burn my throat when I think of hurting him. Tears sting my eyes, and I flush the toilet again. I need to keep it together. I can do this. I have to give up something I love to make my sin go away. I will save my family. That thought has me gathering some courage and stepping out of the bathroom. A scream rips from my throat.
Rian is still here.
“Jesus, Rian.” I place my hand on my heart, attempting to keep it in my chest.
He doesn’t smile, and now all I can think of is that he knows, and this is the moment he’s going to kill me. He takes controlled steps towards me. I’m waiting for the blow. I’m waiting for the accusation that I deserve. Instead, his lips crash down on mine, and he lifts me off the ground. My body responds to his touch, and I wrap my legs around his waist. We are moving until I’m sitting on the sink counter. Pushing me back, I collide with the mirror. Rian’s kisses are almost panicked, and I can’t breathe, yet I don’t want him to stop. His hand runs along my leg, and I freeze, thinking only seconds ago I had the recorder in my pocket. The tape feels too heavy in my sock.