The Border: The Complete Series

by Cross, Amy

  “Did you arrest my brother last night?” Beth continued, turning to Alex.

  “Nobody was arrested,” Alex replied firmly, having clearly anticipated the question. “Your brother merely agreed to come down here and answer a few questions.”

  “Technically, I was being arrested at the start,” Ben pointed out, “but then old Alex here told me he'd just treat it as a questioning for now. Gotta think he broke some rules there, but whatever, I suppose I should be grateful.”

  “I could have arrested you for resisting arrest,” Alex told him.

  “Do you want to think about the circular logic in that one?” Ben replied with a grin.

  “And then you kept him in overnight?” Beth asked, staring in disbelief at Alex. “On what grounds?”

  “We talked until about a half hour ago,” Alex continued. “We could've been done a lot quicker, but your brother's the kinda guy who never uses one word when he can think of ten to take its place. He led us down some blind alleys along the way.”

  “In my defense,” Ben said with a smile, “I've always been naturally verbose.”

  “So he's free to go?” Beth asked, still staring at Alex with an expression of anger.

  “Absolutely.”

  “For now,” Ben added. “I think my ass is on a string and I could get yanked back at any moment.”

  “I might need to talk to you again,” Alex continued, turning to him, “so don't go leaving town without letting me know, okay? I know you like to treat everything as if it's a joke, but this is a serious matter and it'd do you some good to grow up.”

  “It's Christmas in a few days,” Ben reminded him. “Where else would I go, but the warm, loving bosom of my family home?” He smiled. “It was nice talking to you, Mr. Gordon. I hope I was super helpful with all your questions. You sure had a lot, it was hard to keep up sometimes, especially since you were so mean with the coffee. Pro tip, if you want someone to follow your somewhat circuitous trains of thought, you might like to help them stay awake.”

  “It's 8am,” Alex replied, checking his watch. “I don't know about you, but I have to freshen up a little. Like I told you, Ben, this was just a routine chat about a few things. Nothing to get worried about, at least not for now.”

  “But I should stay in town. Gotcha.”

  As Alex headed back to his office, Ben turned and smiled at Beth before making his way to the door, slinging his coat onto his shoulder as he did so.

  “What the hell happened?” she asked, hurrying after him. “I got a message from Jack this morning saying you'd been taken in by Alex. I came down to check on you as soon as I'd finished dropping Lucy off at school, but I just assumed there'd been some kind of mix-up, I never thought you'd actually been arrested.”

  “I wasn't arrested, remember. It was questioning.”

  Grabbing his arm, she pulled him back and forced him to stop and turn to her. “Why did Alex Gordon suddenly decide he needed to question you about the murders?”

  “Ask Jack.”

  “What's Jack got to do with it?”

  “He didn't tell you? He was with me when Alex picked me. In fact, he'd been chatting to Alex a little while earlier. In fact...” He paused. “In fact, he'd put the whole idea into Alex's head in the first place.”

  “Jack wouldn't do that.”

  “Jack would absolutely do that and you know it.”

  “No, he...” Pausing, she realized he was right. “But why? Why would Jack...” Her voice trailed off.

  “Because he truly believes, deep down, that I'm a serial killer with multiple victims under my belt stretching back more than a decade,” Ben replied, with the smile having left his face. “He's not joking when he makes those snide little comments, he really, honestly thinks it's true. Him and Dad, they're the same. They've got me pegged as some kind of monster.” He waited for a reply. “But you don't think that, do you?”

  “No,” she replied, clearly exasperated, “of course I don't, not for one second. Ben, I'm so sorry, I don't know what Jack was thinking...”

  “Yeah, you do,” he continued, heading to the wall and leaning back as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. His fingers were trembling slightly as he lit up and took a drag. “He's had his finger on the trigger for years,” he continued. “I should've known he'd pull it one day. I guess that's what I get for winding him up. I probably should accept some of the blame myself.”

  “I am so, so sorry,” she replied, stepping over to him. “He didn't talk to me about it, he didn't give me any indication that he was going to do something like this.” She paused, before putting her arms around him and giving him a hug.

  “It's okay.”

  “So at least you set Alex straight, right? You showed him that you didn't kill Mel Armitage or Hayley Maitland?”

  “And how would I show him that?” Ben asked, taking another deep, calming drag on the cigarette as his sister stepped back from the hug.

  “By telling him where you were when they were murdered.”

  He paused. “It's complicated.”

  “Complicated? It's not complicated, Ben, it's how you prove you couldn't have killed them.”

  “Alex doesn't know exactly when they were killed,” he continued. “There's, like, a window of several hours for each of them. It's kind of hard to be helpful and prove where you were for several hours at a time, even if you felt that way inclined. Which I can't say I do.”

  “You can't...” She paused, before sighing. “You did answer his questions properly, didn't you? Please, Ben, tell me you didn't spend the whole night being sarcastic and elusive?”

  He shrugged.

  “You didn't,” she continued, “you can't have done. You're not that goddamn stupid.”

  “Can't fight who I am.”

  “He's a cop!” she hissed. “I get it, you like acting that way with Jack, you like winding him up, but you can't do the same thing when the police haul you in for questioning. That's the time to be straightforward and honest, it's the time to get real!”

  He smiled. “Get real. Yeah, I should do that some time.”

  “You're not helping yourself, Ben. It's one thing for Jack to think you did something, Jack's just one man, but if Alex thinks the same thing, you could be in serious trouble!” She sighed. “Come on, let's get you home. You must be exhausted.”

  “Nah, I'm gonna stick around here for a little while.”

  “Ben -”

  “Go on, you get on with whatever you've got to do today. I appreciate you rushing down, truly I do, but there's something I need to deal with and it's kinda urgent, so I'm gonna trundle around for a bit before I come home.”

  She stared at him, clearly at a loss for words.

  “You're making this harder for yourself,” she told him finally, taking a step back. “Whatever you're trying to prove, it's not worth it. You're as guilty as Jack when it comes to letting this garbage keep on ruining your life. You have the power to drop it and let it fade away.”

  “I know,” he muttered, taking another drag on his cigarette as he watched Beth heading back to her car. Once she was gone, he slid down until he was crouching with his back against the wall, and he continued to enjoy the cigarette. He watched as the town square began to wake up, as storefronts opened and people emerged to run their daily errands. There was something strangely peaceful and calming about the sight, and he couldn't help feeling a little envious of all those men, women and children who went about their lives with no idea of the darkness that existed just beneath the surface. Then again, he had a sneaking suspicion that most of them did know, even if they didn't want to admit as much. Reaching down, he tapped twice on the ground with his knuckles.

  Finally, he saw a familiar car pull up nearby, and a moment later he smiled as he saw Jane arriving for work. As soon as they made eye contact, she stopped with a worried look in her eyes.

  “Hey, sister-in-law,” he said, hauling himself to his feet, “I think we need to have a chat.”


  “Ben -”

  “About the Border,” he said firmly, interrupting her as he took another drag on his cigarette. “We need to talk about the Border. Now.”

  ***

  “So basically the police have got nothing,” Daniel muttered, as he finished reading Jack's latest editorial for the following day's paper. “Apart from two dead bodies, I mean. It's kinda sad when the media's better at solving crimes than the cops.”

  “It's not sad,” Jack replied, leaning back in his chair, “it's completely natural, especially in the modern age. We're more motivated than they are.”

  Daniel turned to him with a frown.

  “The police are just trying to keep the town safe,” Jack continued, “whereas guys like you and me, we're catering to the public's need for information. We're keener so we work harder, our readership expects regular updates.” Glancing at his laptop, he brought up an old window. “Website hits are twenty times what they'd usually be around now. We could make as much online ad revenue in a month as we usually make in a year, and that's money that'll go right back into the newspaper to help it survive.”

  “So you're just chasing clicks?”

  “I'm doing my job,” Jack said firmly. “I'm getting to the truth, which is what a journalist should always be doing. I can't help it if I'm good at that.”

  “Either that or the cops around here are dumbasses,” Daniel pointed out, before pausing. “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I know Jane's not a dumbass.”

  “She's doing her best,” Jack replied, “but my money's always on a journalist to get to the bottom of things before a cop.”

  “And you really think the identity of the killer is gonna be revealed in the next couple of days?” Daniel asked. “I mean, at the end of this editorial you make some pretty bold claims, it's almost like you're promising some big revelation in one of our upcoming issues.”

  Jack nodded. “I'm certain of it.”

  “So who is it? Do you know?”

  “I...” He paused. “I have a very strong suspicion. Not really a suspicion, actually, more like... knowledge that still requires a little more proof.”

  “From looking at your wife's phone and emails, stuff like that?”

  “No, and -” He glanced at the door. “Keep your voice down, okay? Stuff like that isn't for general consumption. It's technically illegal.”

  “Sure, boss, but...” Looking down at the copy again for a moment, Daniel finally sighed. “Well, at least you can relax about your brother now.”

  Jack frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I know you kinda suspected maybe he was the killer, but obviously you don't anymore.”

  “Why don't I?”

  “Because you seem so relaxed,” Daniel continued. “I mean, if you think you know who the killer is, obviously you don't think it's Ben, or you wouldn't be acting so...” He tried to think of the right word. “I don't know, victorious. You're obviously very relieved.”

  “It's a complicated situation,” Jack muttered, turning to his laptop and logging in to the paper's CMS. “Anyway, enough talking for today, you need to get back to work on those other stories. And don't forget I need you to go knock on the Maitlands' door, see if they'll say a few words about Hayley. We need to use her as the human face of this tragedy, she's more appealing to the public than Mel.”

  “More appealing?”

  “More photogenic. Hayley was a local girl, Mel just moved here. Big difference. Just get over to their house and tell them they'll feel better if they give you a few quotes.”

  “Don't you think it's a bit soon?”

  “I do, which is why I'm sending you rather than going myself. Sorry, kid, them's the breaks around here.” Spotting movement over by the door, he glanced over and saw Alex Gordon entering the office. “Hey Dan,” Jack continued, “why don't you go to the store and see if we're all sold out down there?”

  “Can't you just call them and -”

  “Go take a look,” Jack continued, watching as Alex made his way over. “Take your time.”

  Sensing that he was being shuffled out of the way, Daniel paused for a moment before sighing and heading to the door, leaving Alex to stop at the window for a moment, looking out at the town square. Finally, he turned and looked back toward the door, to make sure that Daniel was gone.

  “So how did it go?” Jack asked.

  Alex paused, before turning to him. “There's no easy way to tell you this,” he said finally. “Jack, your brother Ben is definitely the killer.”

  II

  “Jesus Christ,” Beth muttered, staring at her phone and wincing as she saw an image of several decapitated heads, victims of some South American drug cartel with a name she couldn't pronounce. She scrolled to the next picture and saw a close-up of one of the heads, and after a moment she realized the victim's genitals had been cut off and shoved into his mouth.

  She looked away from the screen, horrified, but after a moment she looked back.

  “Disgusting,” she whispered, although she quickly swiped to the next image. Her eyes widened with shock as she saw a man whose tongue had been pulled out through a hole in his neck.

  “Here's your salad,” said the waitress suddenly, setting a plate of food in front of her. She glanced at the phone in Beth's hands and frowned, before Beth quickly turned it away.

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you -”

  “Thanks,” Beth said again, more firmly this time. “Thank you.”

  “Okay,” the waitress replied, clearly shocked as she headed back to the counter.

  Rolling her eyes, Beth took another look at her phone. She figured she'd seen enough images for the morning, and she was about to close the browser when she remembered the message boards in the online marketplace. Navigating to the page, she set her phone on the table and began to eat while scrolling down the boards, looking at all the hideous and bizarre services and products being offered. Guns, knives, drugs, poison, there was more than she'd ever imagined, and soon she wasn't even paying attention to the salad she'd begun spooning into her mouth.

  And then she saw it again.

  That same advert, the one that – if she was honest with herself, which she wasn't – she'd been daydreaming about ever since she'd first spotted it a few days earlier.

  “Metal Pill Terminations,” she whispered, reading from the screen. “Want that problem person gone from your life? It's easier than you think.” She paused, feeling a little breathless with nerves. “Metal pill. That must mean bullet.”

  She scrolled down a little further.

  “Struggling with life?” she continued to read. “Wondering how everyone else seems to get by just fine, while you're always struggling? Maybe they know something you don't. Maybe they only talk about having morals, while secretly doing whatever they need to do in order to make their lives run smoothly.”

  She turned and looked out the window, watching as people made their way in and out of stores on the other side of the parking lot. Now that she actually thought about it, she did feel as if everyone else was in on some secret that had been denied to her, and as she looked back down at the phone, she was starting to think that maybe she was really onto something.

  “You don't have to suffer in silence,” she read. “At Metal Pill Terminations, we can help you to get rid of that troublesome person. Permanently.”

  She looked across the cafe and spotted Mrs. Cook eating alone at a corner booth. It had been several years since Mrs. Cook's husband Stan had passed away in his sleep, and she remembered how distraught the old woman had seemed at the funeral. Now, however, she was starting to wonder whether the whole thing had been an act. For the first time, she realized that perhaps Mrs. Cook had used a service like Metal Pill Terminations to have Stan bumped off, and the whole weeping widow thing had been a lie. Looking around the cafe at the rest of her fellow diners, she felt more and more certain that other people were using discreet services all the time.

  At the bottom of th
e screen on her phone, she saw a link to send a secure, anonymous message to the person behind the Metal Pill Terminations advert. She hesitated for a moment, before clicking through and finding herself on a page that stated in big, bold letters that there was no way she could possibly be identified.

  With a knot of fear in her belly, but also a hint of anticipation, she began to type.

  ***

  “Man,” Tom Lanegan said as he and Bob headed along the corridor, “I can't even describe them, they were that stunning. I've never seen titties so good in all my life. Dreamed about 'em, thought about 'em, seen 'em online, but this time I was holding 'em in my hands. It was just the most perfect moment.”

  “Huh,” Bob replied, not really knowing what to say as his boss regaled him with stories about his previous night's adventure. Sometimes, he felt that Tom was like some kind of mythical creature, a too-good-to-be-true relic of a world where men were free to enjoy the simpler pleasures in life, unencumbered by the crushing humorlessness of the modern world. Every day, Tom had some new tale about his latest conquest, and it seemed to Bob that his boss was on one big never-ending, life-long relay race from breast to breast and hot woman to hot woman.

  “Mind you,” Tom continued, stopping at the door and looking through to the office, where Candy was typing at her computer, “I bet you've got access to some pretty sweet candy of your own, huh?” He nudged Bob's arm. “Candy, huh? Get it?”

  “I do?”

  “I know about you and her,” Tom said, nudging him again. “Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone. I think it's great, I mean, why shouldn't you get some extra fun on the side? Things must have been hard at home since you and Beth became parents. I guess you've got a bad case of DBS.”

  “DBS?”

  “Dead Bedroom Syndrome.”

  “Oh.”