by Cross, Amy
***
“Well, don't you feel better now?” Harry asked as he followed Ben out of the police station a couple of hours later. “Doesn't it feel good to get things off your chest and face things, man to man?”
Stopping just ahead, Ben stared across the town square. His eyes, still filled with shock and anger, watched as people went about their daily business. How many others, he wondered, thought the same as his father? How many thought there was a chance, small but worth investigating, that he, Ben Freeman, was the one who'd strangled and mutilated those two girls? He'd always enjoyed his status as an outsider, as someone who didn't conform, but now he was starting to see the dark side of not fitting in. After a moment, a woman stepped out of the bank and glanced in his direction; their eyes met for a moment, she didn't smile, and then she continued on her way. Seconds after that, a kid rode past on a bike, and although he didn't look at Ben, he seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact, almost as if he'd been warned by his mother not to look at the weird blonde-haired kid who might have a dark secret.
“Ben Freeman's weird,” he imagined the kid's mother saying. “Keep away from him. There's just something a little off about him.”
“Son?” Harry said after a moment. “You coming to the hardware store with me?”
Slowly, Ben turned to face his father.
“Now come on,” Harry continued with a smile and a sigh. “Let's not have any silliness. It was good to come down here and straighten things out.” Reaching out, he tried to put a hand on Ben's shoulder, but the boy instinctively pulled away. “Ben, you've got to understand -”
“I understand,” Ben replied, his voice trembling with shock.
“I didn't bring you down here to embarrass or humiliate you. Alex just -”
“You called Alex. He told me. You called him and told him I'd dyed my hair, and that I matched the description of the killer.”
“Hang on, that's not what happened -”
“He told me,” Ben said firmly. There were tears in his eyes, but that's where they stayed: in his eyes, not rolling down his cheeks. He refused to let them do that, even though he was filling with a slow, quaking rage at the thought that a member of his own family had begun to suspect him.
“Are you going to be a child about this?” Harry asked, still forcing a smile. “Come on, it's over now, let's go to the hardware store and the electrical place and then we can get home and you can play those video games or whatever the hell else it is that you like wasting your time on.” Still smiling, he stepped past Ben before stopping and turning back to him. “And let's not tell your mother about this, or Jack or Beth. Come on, let's be grown-up, let's be men. We did what we had to do. That's what a man is, you know.”
Ben stared at him for a moment. “You thought I killed those women,” he whispered finally.
“Oh, come on -”
“You thought I killed those women,” he said again, taking a step back. “You read what happened to them and you thought that's something I could do to another human being. You looked at me and you thought it's something I'd be capable of.”
“Quit with the sanctimonious crap,” Harry replied with a grin. “I was just helping you out, is all.”
“He strangled them.”
“Well, garrotted, but -”
“And he cut them up,” Ben continued, “and did things to them after they were dead. Things that are so bad, they won't even describe them in the paper. Even Alex just now wouldn't tell me all the details! It's like he thinks I'm too young to be told, even though I'm not too young for him to suspect me!”
“Son, let's not -”
“And you thought that might have been me?”
“It was really the hair -”
Without letting him finish, Ben turned to walk away.
“Hey!” Harry called after him, grabbing his shoulder, “don't you turn your back on me when I'm -”
Before he could get another word out, Ben swung around and clenched his fist, poised to punch the old man and knock him out. He came close, so close, before slowly unclenching the fist and turning away. Without looking back, he hurried across the road and then down an alley that ran by the side of the bank. Desperate to get away, desperate to avoid people staring at him, he began to run until finally he got to the yard behind the bar, and he crouched down behind one of the bins with his head in his hands. Tears ran down his face and he felt as if his skull was about to explode with rage. He was already regretting the fact that he hadn't punched his father clean to the ground.
Part Four
Prologue
Nine years ago
“Absolutely, Sir,” Jack said, remembering to keep his back straight and his shoulders firm as he stood in Mac's office. His father had drilled him on his posture, and he damn well wasn't going to slouch. “You can count on me, I won't let you down.”
“You won't, huh?” Sighing, Mac leaned across the desk and picked up a small white envelope, from which he slid a laminated card. “Get that rod out of your ass, boy, you're not in the goddamn army. This is a newspaper in a dusty little town in the back-end of nowhere. As long as you bring me some decent copy for each edition, that's all that matters, you hear me?”
“I've always been passionate about journalism,” Jack replied.
“Did you read that in a book?” Mac asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Did someone tell you to say that to me, to... I don't know, to impress me?”
“No, Sir.”
“Don't call me that. Call me Mac. It's my goddamn name.”
“Yes, Mac. I mean -” He caught himself just in time. It felt wrong to be so informal, especially after all the advice his father had given him, but at the same time he felt he couldn't disobey a direct order from his new boss. “Thank you, Mac.”
“For what?”
He paused. “Um... I'm not sure.”
Rolling his eyes, Mac took a look at the laminated card for a moment before sliding it toward him. “There's your press card. Fat lot of good it'll do you, but hang onto it anyway. Union rules say I've gotta give it to you, and the damn thing cost money. Plus, if you ever end up at a goddamn conference, you'll probably get a discount at the bar if you flash that thing. Only goddamn use for it.” Leaning back in his chair, he watched as Jack took the card and admired it with obvious pride. “I remember when I was your age,” he drawled finally.
“You do, Sir? I mean, Mac...”
“I remember when my old boss gave me my first press card. I thought...”
“You were proud?”
“Nah. I just wanted to know when I'd get my first paycheck.”
“I'm not in this for the money,” Jack replied. “I mean, I do need to get paid, obviously, but I happen to think that journalism carries a deeper spiritual meaning, especially in a small-town situation.”
“You really are keen, aren't you?” Mac said with a sigh. “Jesus Christ, all that crap about serving the public good and using journalism to maintain standards of discourse in society... You really meant it.”
“With all my heart, Sir,” Jack replied, slipping the card into his pocket. “I mean... Mac.”
“Well, we'll scrub it out of you before too long.”
“With all due respect, I don't know about that.”
“You sure you wanna be a reporter?” Mac asked. “Sure you don't wanna pop down the road and sign up for the police instead?”
“Absolutely not,” Jack replied. “My wife's just starting at the police station, actually. It was her first day just recently.”
“Well,” Mac muttered, “between the two of you, it seems like the town's in safe hands. A cop and a reporter, eh? I don't know whether to applaud or grab my sick bucket.” He paused. “I guess she's in the thick of the Caitlin Somers murder, huh? Hell of a time to show up for your first few days.”
“Yes, Sir. It's an awful business. She's certainly been thrown in at the deep end.”
“You're gonna have to cover that case, you know,” Mac continued. “
Are you going to keep your private life out of your professional responsibilities?”
“Of course.”
“Really?” Mac frowned. “Why the hell would you do that? You've got connections with the local cops, you'd damn well better use them. I'm sure the little lady won't mind slipping some information to you under the dining room table, so to speak. And if she's reluctant, drill her good.”
“Wouldn't that be unethical?” Jack asked.
“Huh?” Mac replied, cupping a hand to his ear as if he was suddenly deaf.
“Wouldn't it be unethical?” Jack asked again.
“Huh?”
“Unethical, Sir.”
“What's that word? Don't use that word around here.”
“Okay,” Jack replied, forcing a smile.
“It'd be good reporting, is what it'd be,” Mac replied, picking up his phone. “Now get out there and start impressing me by filing some copy for the next edition. I've got some calls to make, so don't bother me until it's knocking-off time. I want five good, meaty stories on my desk by the time you leave, understood?”
“Five?” Jack replied, shocked by the scale of the challenge he was facing.
“Five,” Mac said firmly. “Now move. You don't have time to stand in my office looking gormless and lost, not if you want to have any kind of career in the newspaper business.” He looked down at his paperwork for a moment, before glancing back at Jack as the new hire headed to the door. “Your wife,” he called after him. “Is her name Jane?”
Jack turned back to him. “Yes, it is. Do you know her?”
“I've seen her about,” Mac replied, getting back to work. “This is one hell of a small town.”
***
“He's a little...” Jack paused for a moment, trying to think of the right word to describe his new boss. “Old-fashioned,” he continued finally. “I think that's all it is. He's, like, in his fifties at least. I think he doesn't really understand the modern world, and he's struggling to stay afloat.”
“Snap,” Jane muttered, taking a bite of her sandwich as she and her husband sat in the middle of the town square, under the shade of the old birch tree. It had become a tradition for them to meet for lunch, and one that was much easier now they worked almost next door to one another. “My boss is quite a character too. Sometimes I think Alex is actually...” She paused, and then she smiled. “I shouldn't say stuff like that. He's a good man. Different, but good.”
“Mac wants me to squeeze you for information,” Jack replied.
“Squeeze me?”
“You know, get you to let things slip so I can put them in the paper.”
“Fat chance.”
“That's what I told him.”
“I'd get fired,” she continued, “and then where would we be?” She took another bite. “Are you sure your mother doesn't mind picking the kids up from school later? I feel like we've placed such a burden on her.”
“It's fine. She likes helping out, and she's glad that we're both pursuing our careers.”
“But the kids -”
“Will be fine at my mother's for an hour after school each day,” he added. “Stop worrying.” He paused for a moment. “So is there any scoop you could pass on to me?”
“Seriously?”
“I need to impress Mac. I know it's wrong, but just on my first day, if you could -”
“Nope,” she said firmly, shaking her head.
“Damn it,” he replied with a smile, “why did I marry someone who has such strong morals?”
“You made a big mistake there,” she told him. “Shoulda found some dumb little thing who doesn't give a rat's ass.” Leaning over, she kissed the side of his face, lingering for a moment to breathe in the smell of his aftershave. She wanted to kiss him again immediately, but she knew she shouldn't get carried away so she pulled back. “You'll do just fine. Before you know it, Mac'll be out and you'll be the Herald's new editor.”
“Hah,” he replied, “that'll be the day.”
“I mean it,” she continued. “You're the future of that newspaper, everyone knows it. Mac's so set in his ways, it's unreal. I'm not being ageist, I just think his time has passed.”
“True,” Jack said with a smile. “He asked me today whether I thought the paper needed a website, and where we'd buy one. Not that he actually used the word website, of course. He called it a computer page.” He quickly launched into a half-decent impression of Mac: “Hey, kid, where do we get one of them computer pages from, eh? One that people can look at on their computer?”
She rolled her eyes.
“I told him I'd set one up in my spare time,” he continued. “He thinks it's a waste of time, but I told him, the internet's changing everything. He still thinks the idea of a website is that people can print it out to read on their porch.”
“Tell me about it,” Jane replied. “We've been going through records of Caitlin Somers' digital life. Social media, email, that sort of thing. I'm not that much older than her, not much more than a decade, but I already feel like I don't understand how kids do that kind of thing. Alex and I figured we might -” She stopped suddenly, as if she'd caught herself just in time. “Well,” she added with a smile, “there I go, almost shooting my mouth off and giving information away to a handsome journalist.”
“Perish the thought.”
“I've got to get back,” she added, getting to her feet and brushing crumbs from her lap before dropping the sandwich wrapper into a nearby bin. “Alex wants us to go and talk to Joe Baldwin at the hospital again. He's hoping that somehow Joe might -”
“You're doing it again,” Jack pointed out.
She sighed, before miming zipping her lips shut. “Habit,” she added, leaning down and planting another kiss on the side of his face, enjoying the aftershave again, before taking a step back. “It's gonna be a while before I remember that I can't just unload on you at the end of a hard day at work. Why'd you have to become a journalist, huh? Why couldn't you become something boring, like... a pharmacist, or a bookseller?”
“Well, you're stuck with me now.”
She paused, as if there was something else on her mind, something she couldn't quite get out. “And Jack,” she said finally, clearly feeling uncomfortable, “about your boss. Don't let Mac influence you too much.”
“Influence me?”
“Don't put him on a pedestal.”
“Of course not. He's a pretty cool old guy, though. There's a lot I can learn from him.”
“Maybe,” she replied, “but... Just be yourself. Mac's not...”
He waited for her to finish.
“Not what?” he asked finally.
She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out.
“Don't you like Mac?” he asked.
“I've never met him,” she continued. “I just think you should trust your instincts rather than letting him sway you, that's all.”
“I'll try to remember that,” he said with a frown. “Any other vague comments you want to make before you head back?”
“I love you,” she replied, turning and heading across the town square.
“Love you too, honey,” he said with a smile, watching as she walked away. Just as he was about to get to his feet, however, he spotted Jane's notebook on the bench next to him, and he reached out to pick it up. For a moment, he was about to open it and take a look, before stopping himself just in time. There was probably plenty of useful information in there, things he could use to knock out five stories for Mac in under an hour, but while the temptation was great, he just couldn't bring himself to betray his wife. With a sigh, he got to his feet and hurried across the square.
“Hey!” he called after Jane. “Honey, you forgot this!”
I
Today
With the sound of the shower running in the next room, Jack sat in bed scrolling through the emails on Jane's phone. He glanced at the door a couple of times, to make sure there was no chance of her walking in on him, before continuing his
search, finally opening a message from Alex.
“Third autopsy ordered,” he whispered, reading out loud. He frowned. “Third autopsy? Why the hell are they running a third autopsy on Mel Armitage?”
Closing the email, he scrolled down a little further before opening another from Alex.
“Hermitage House,” he muttered. “What's Hermitage House got to do with anything? It's just doss house for people who can't afford a proper hotel.”
He clicked on some attached pictures and waited while they loaded, before wincing as he saw the first and realized it was from Mel's autopsy. He'd seen them before, but still, he couldn't get used to that kind of thing. Closing the page, he felt nauseous for a moment, but finally the sensation passed and he started dipping back into Jane's emails again.
Hearing the shower stop suddenly, he hurriedly closed the mail app and locked Jane's phone, before setting it back onto the nightstand and rolling over to look at the magazine he'd been pretending to read. A moment later, he heard Jane entering the room, and he turned a page in the magazine as casually as possible, keen to look completely innocent.
“Anything on my phone?” she asked.
He froze, before turning to see that she had a towel wrapped around her still-wet body as she grabbed her phone from the side.
“Honey?” she continued. “Did I get any messages while I was in the shower?”
“I didn't hear any,” he replied, realizing that he was just being paranoid. She had no idea. “No, nothing. Sorry.”
“Huh.” She checked for a moment, before setting the phone down and heading over to the chair in the far corner, where her uniform was laid out. “Can you pick the kids up from school and make dinner tonight? I'm probably going to be working late tonight. Alex wants me to be there for the -” She paused. “Oh, just for some stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Stuff.”
“Stuff you can't talk about at home?”