The Border: The Complete Series

by Cross, Amy

  “Getting the old man his usual, huh?” Tom asked. “That's good. If there's one thing you need to learn right off the bat around this place, it's that you've gotta keep Mr. Crutchlow happy if you want to last. I don't know how he's done it, but somehow he's managed to position himself as the life and soul of this place. Impressive for an older guy, yeah?” He stepped closer, until his large, erect penis was almost touching her thigh. “Have you noticed that no matter how loud the music is, you can always hear Mr. Crutchlow's laugh?”

  “I should -”

  “Just listen for a moment,” he continued. “Just listen.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him she had to go, but suddenly she realized he was right. Despite the pounding music that filled the room, she could hear Mr. Crutchlow's distinctive laugh drifting across from the far side of the club. She frowned, trying to work out how that was even possible, but suddenly she felt something brushing the nipple of her right breast, and she looked down to see that Tom's fingers were touching her.

  “Do you hear?” he asked, staring down at her breast. After a moment, his fingers brushed against a mole on the side. “That's pretty,” he continued. “You know, I've seen you about town, up on the -”

  “No,” she replied, interrupting him as a hint of panic filled her chest, “rules, remember?”

  “Yeah, but -”

  “You can't mention things that happen above-ground,” she continued, fighting the urge to step away from him. “Not down here. It's not allowed. Just like when you're above-ground, you can't mention things that happen down here. It's one of the most important rules of The Border.”

  “Sure, but -”

  “Rules are rules.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “That's good,” he said finally. “You passed the test. I wanted to see if you understood.”

  “I do.”

  “You have another mole here,” he replied, ignoring her words as he ran a finger down her belly, almost to her crotch. Feeling the mole for a moment, he seemed lost in thought, before looking at her face and then reaching up to touch the mole on her chin. “I hope you get these checked out. It's important to monitor your moles and make sure they don't change color or shape. If they do, you -”

  “I know,” she replied, forcing herself to remain polite. “I understand how it works.”

  “I ought to call you Moley,” he told her with a faint smile. “I like moles. I know some guys might not, but I really do.” At that moment, whether by accident or not, the tip of his penis brushed her leg. “Moley the underground girl.” He smiled. “Ha! How do you like that?”

  “I think I should get this drink to Mr. Crutchlow.”

  “Of course you should,” he replied. “Of course, but... Come back and see me later, yeah? Before the night is over. I promise I won't break any more rules.”

  Smiling politely, she picked up the tray and began to carry it across The Club. She knew that Tom would be watching her, probably focused on her ass, so she just kept going, refusing to look back, until she was certain she must be out of sight by now, lost in the red haze of the club. Finally she glanced over her shoulder, just to be sure, and she felt a hint of relief as she realized he could no longer see her. A moment later, she heard Mr. Crutchlow laughing nearby, and she realized that she still had a long, long night ahead of her.

  Heading over to the far end of the club, past the door in the corner that she hadn't dared ask about yet, she finally reached Mr. Crutchlow's table.

  “Here you are, Sir,” she said with a smile as the music pounded so hard it shook her bones. She set the drink down for him. “I hope you're having a good evening.”

  She turned to him. He was sitting right in front of a bright red searchlight, so her field of vision was filled with the brightest red haze of all, but somewhere in the mix she could just make out Mr. Crutchlow's mouth as he smiled back at her.

  ***

  “The kids are asleep,” Jack said as he made his way back into the front room. “Oliver seems a little funny tonight, but I guess it's nothing. You know what boys are like.”

  Smiling, Jane continued to tap at her phone for a moment, saving a couple more documents that she'd downloaded from her email.

  “You still working?” Jack asked, flopping down on the sofa next to her and letting out a sigh. “Please, tell me you're not still working.” He checked his watch. “It's almost eleven. Jesus Christ, when did I get so old that almost eleven feels like a late night? I remember when eleven was the start of a good time, not the moment when I sit on the sofa and worry about developing a gut.”

  “Join the club,” she muttered.

  He stared at her for a moment. “You okay?”

  “Never been better.”

  “I mean in general. Not too stressed?”

  “I'm working a murder investigation,” she replied. “It'd be weird if I wasn't stressed.”

  “Sure.” He looked around the room for a moment. “Why's it so quiet in here?” he continued, as he realized that all the gadgets were all off. The TV, the radio, the laptops... Everything was dark and untouched. “Not even watching the news tonight?”

  “I'm all newsed out,” she replied, setting her phone down on the coffee table. She made sure to position it in a very specific spot, with one side exactly parallel to a magazine. “Sometimes I just like peace and quiet, you know? It helps me to get things straight in my head.”

  “Cute,” Caitlin whispered. “Let the test begin.”

  Turning, Jane saw the dead girl sitting in the armchair by the TV. That side of the room was darker than the rest, but Caitlin's scarred, dry face was just about visible in the gloom.

  “So are we friends again?” Jack asked after a moment.

  She turned to him. “Did I miss something?”

  “You just seemed a little off at lunch. I could tell there was a little grit in your voice.”

  “I've just got a lot on my mind,” she told him. “The whole Mel Armitage thing is taking up all my time, we're still... Well, you know I can't tell you exactly what's going on, but let's just say that we're not making progress quite as quickly as we'd have liked. Don't put that in the paper, by the way.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Plus, Alex is getting weirder by the day.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  “Believe it or not, yes, it is possible. Sometimes I think he...” She paused, trying to find the right words, before glancing at her phone again. She needed to be certain about where she'd left it, so she could tell if it got moved when she left the room. “Sometimes I think Alex is a little more than just pleasantly eccentric. I mean, he's always had that edge, that ability to go out on a mental limb, but sometimes I think he's...”

  “Batshit crazy?”

  Smiling, she nodded.

  “Well, I told you that years ago,” he continued, putting an arm around her. “The man's an over-thinker. He follows his thoughts down too many rabbit-holes and he doesn't know when to stop.” He paused. “You go down too many rabbit-holes, sometimes you accidentally come back up through a different one. That's how you end up losing your mind.”

  “I need a glass of water,” she replied, getting to her feet. “You want one?”

  He shook his head.

  “Back in a moment.” She glanced at her phone again, and then at Caitlin in the armchair, and then she made her way to the kitchen, only to find that the dead girl was now by the back door, watching with a faint smile.

  “Do you think he'll pass the test?” she asked, as Jane headed over to the sink. “Come on, deep down do you think Jack's going to look at your phone and sneak a peek at that fake information you've left on there?”

  “Maybe,” Jane whispered, filling a glass and then starting to drink.

  “Only maybe?”

  “Maybe.”

  “That's sad,” Caitlin continued. “A marriage shouldn't be like this. You should be able to trust him implicitly. What happened to the idea of marriage being a union be
tween two smart, intelligent, respectful adults?”

  Ignoring her, Jane finished the glass and then poured another.

  “It won't be long now,” Caitlin added.

  Jane turned to her.

  “There's going to be another one. You know that, right? Mel Armitage was just the first in the latest batch, and someone else is going to die soon. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow night, maybe later in the week, but it's going to happen unless you and Alex catch the killer.”

  “We're working on it,” Jane whispered.

  “How inspiring,” Caitlin said with a smile. “The worst part is, you know the killer. You've spent time with him recently. Or her.”

  “Who?”

  “I can't tell you that. I'm just a figment of your subconscious mind, remember?” She paused. “Unless you've changed your mind about that and you've decided I'm a spooky old ghost?”

  “Ghosts don't exist.”

  “So I'm part of you.”

  “Help me,” Jane whispered. “If you know the killer's identity, that means I know it.”

  Caitlin nodded.

  “But I don't!” Jane hissed.

  “You do.”

  “Subconsciously?”

  Caitlin nodded.

  “Then if you're my subconscious mind, why can't you tell me?”

  “Because you're not asking the right question. Not really.”

  “Who's the killer?”

  “Not killer,” Caitlin replied. “Killers. There's more than one, and the best part is... They don't even know each other.”

  “But -”

  “Hey,” Jack said suddenly, stopping in the doorway. “Are you talking to yourself?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Well, 'cause when I came in just now, you seemed to be talking to someone, and I don't see anyone else in the room.”

  Caitlin smiled.

  “Just running through some things in my head,” Jane said, trying not to sound agitated. Her mind was racing and she wanted him to leave her alone, but at the same time she was worried he might get suspicious. She'd been careful not to let anyone overhear her talking to Caitlin so far, and she hated the fact that she'd managed to let her guard down. “You know, trying to make sense of things. Thought exercises, that kind of thing. It's totally healthy, there's no reason not to do it.”

  “Well I'm going to file a little more copy,” he told her, “probably from bed, and then I'm going to sleep. You coming?”

  She nodded.

  “Time to check if he passed the test,” Caitlin whispered in her ear.

  Once Jack had gone upstairs, Jane made her way back through to the front room. Sure enough, when she looked at the coffee table, she saw that her phone had moved. The change wasn't even particularly subtle; it was as if Jack just assumed there was no way she'd notice.

  “Oh dear,” Caitlin said, sounding highly amused. “Looks like tomorrow morning's paper is gonna be a fun read.”

  “What did you mean when you said there were multiple killers?” Jane asked, turning to her, only to find that she was gone. “Caitlin!” she hissed, hurrying to the kitchen, but there was no sign of anyone. “Great,” she muttered finally, turning and resting her forehead gently against the wall. “How can there be multiple killers who don't know each other?”

  ***

  “So how did it go with old Crutchlow?” Hayley asked, sliding onto the sofa next to Katie as loud music continued to pulse all around them. “I saw he had his hands all over you a while ago.”

  “You know what he's like,” Katie replied. “He just likes to touch.”

  “Oh,” Hayley said, “he doesn't just like to touch.”

  “He's very friendly,” Katie admitted. “Sometimes a little too friendly.”

  For a moment, glancing across the club, she thought she saw Tom Lanegan watching her from the red haze, but if it was him, he quickly stepped back and out of view. It wasn't the first time she'd thought he was keeping an eye on her, and she although she kept telling herself not to worry, she couldn't shake the feeling that out of all the girls working in The Border that night, she was receiving most of his attention.

  “Popped off to the toilet, has he?” Hayley continued. “Good old Crutchlow, always let down by that weak bladder of his. Still, I hope tonight has made you realize that you belong here after all. The third night is always the hardest, but I promise you, the fourth night is a doddle. After this, it gets so much easier.”

  “How long have you been here?” Katie asked.

  “Long enough to know how things work.” She paused for a moment. “Long enough to know that on my rare nights off, I have to find a way to unwind. Refocus, recharge, you know? And if Simon calls to ask me to take an extra shift, I always refuse. I don't want to give all my time to this place.” Another pause. “I've got a night off tomorrow, and I fully intend to just immerse myself in... me. Get really self-absorbed, you know? I don't want to be thinking about other people or their needs.”

  “I'm off tomorrow too,” Katie replied. “I just want to go somewhere quiet, this music's starting to give me a headache. It's not even music, either. It's more like this pulsing, repetitive beat. I can't believe people can't hear it above-ground.”

  “Do you know where we are right now?” Hayley asked, looking up at the ceiling. “We're right underneath the police station.”

  “We are?” Katie asked, following her gaze. “For real?”

  “For real. Right under it, and about thirty feet down. Kinda symbolic, don't you think?” Nudging Katie's side, she pointed to the far side of the room. “Over there, that's the town square. The Border is basically directly underneath the very center of the town. If there's anyone up there now, in the square, they won't be able to hear a thing. They have no idea about this place.”

  “So how many people do know?”

  “Just the people who work here and the people who come here,” Hayley continued. “A few others, but not many. It's important for this particular underground club to stay underground, if you know what I mean. When The Border was first set up, a long time ago, there was no town at all. The founders wanted to build it way out in the middle of nowhere, where no-one could find them. Eventually they realized they were drawing attention to themselves. People were wondering why folks were driving out here and disappearing underground, so the whole town of Bowley was built right on top of The Border as a kind of cover.”

  “Seriously?”

  “That's the version of the story that I heard. Of course, that was all back in, like, the nineteen-hundreds, something like that. Bowley's almost a normal town now.” She paused, before a broad smile crossed her lips. “Almost being the key word there.”

  “What's through there?” Katie asked, looking past her and staring at a door in the corner. “It looks like the door up above, the one that leads down here.”

  “Don't worry about that door,” Hayley replied, with a slight chill in her voice. “That door isn't for us.”

  “But what is it?”

  “It's...” Pausing, Hayley looked around for a moment, as if she was worried about them being overheard. “That door goes down to the next level.”

  “There's another level?”

  “Of course there is. You've got Bowley on top, which is relatively normal. Then you come down here and you've got this place, the first level of The Border.” She paused again. “There's another level below. It's different down there. Darker, more extreme, and that goes for the customers as well as the girls.”

  “There's a whole other club below this one?”

  Hayley nodded.

  “Why can't we go down?”

  “The girls who go down to that club are asked to do a lot more,” Hayley told her. “They get paid more, obviously, but in return...” She paused again, with a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Trust me, it's better to just stay in this part. Even if you're offered the chance to go down to the next level, you shouldn't take it. If half the stories I've heard about that place are true, it's
not worth it.”

  “But -”

  “Makes this level suddenly not seem so bad, huh?” she added, looking over toward the red haze as she heard familiar laughter. “I think Mr. Crutchlow's coming back. Sometimes tells me he's gonna want you to himself for the rest of the night, so I should probably, like, get out of the way.” She looked down at Katie's bare chest. “You wanna see a trick before I go?”

  Before Katie could answer, Hayley grabbed a small flashlight from behind one of the cushions and shone its purplish light straight at Katie's chest. Looking down, Katie was shocked to see that the flashlight was picking out the thousands of fingerprints across her bare flesh, showing every spot where she'd been touched during her latest shift.

  “And it's not even midnight,” Hayley reminded her, before switching the light off and slipping it back behind the cushion. “Enjoy yourself, and remember, no matter how crazy things get down here, it's still a lot better than going through that door and being down on the level below.”

  With that, Hayley leaped up from the sofa and bounded away, just as Mr. Crutchlow's smile came into view through the club's red haze.

  ***

  “I'm sorry it's so late,” Ben said as he followed Beth into the kitchen. He set some freshly-stolen daffodils on the counter. “I got you some flowers to make up for it, but I wanted to let you know that I spoke to Dad today. He won't be coming for Christmas.”

  “Big surprise,” she muttered, switching the kettle on before closing the browser on her phone. “Thanks for trying. I know you probably had to clench a little while you were talking to him.”

  “What are you up to?” he asked with a frown.

  “Nothing.” She slipped the phone away and turned to him. “Why?”

  “You seem startled, like I just walked in on you doing something you don't want me to know about.”

  “Don't be silly,” she replied, clearly a little flustered as she took the daffodils and set them in a vase. “I was just checking some stuff out. It's late, like you said.”

  “And Bob's out?”

  “Double shift at work. Apparently.”