by Carys Jones
Shaking his head, Aiden turned up the radio and tried to focus on the song that was playing. It was another country number, a real old one, about a couple getting a divorce but not wanting their young son to know so instead of saying the word they spelt it out. Divorce was difficult, whether you spelt it out or not.
‘If you don’t bang her, you’ll always wish you had,’ Justin’s voice echoed in his head, arriving uninvited. Aiden tried to dismiss the comments from his mind, unsure why his memory was so intent on dredging it back up from the past.
Maybe his subconscious was trying to tell him something. Perhaps he wanted to stop thinking about Brandy and the only solution he could muster was based on ten-year-old advice from a dead friend. There was no denying that Aiden was sexually attracted to Brandy. But the whole point of being a responsible adult, heck, of living within a civilized society, was that you don’t go around acting on all your sexual impulses. If people behaved like that, no one would ever get any work done.
‘But what if it’s love?’ came John’s questioning, cautious voice.
‘Then you’ll know when you bang her.’ Justin answered confidently. He was always so self-assured; he never questioned anything, especially not himself.
Aiden couldn’t listen to the conversation being played out in his mind any longer. He pulled his car over and leant his head against the wheel. He tried to block out the pain of missing Brandy, the guilt over Justin’s death, but the feelings refused to subside.
Unable to stop them, tears came flooding down Aiden’s face, splashing onto his hands. He sat there, shaking, waiting for his sorrow to pass.
*
‘Well, you look like death,’ Edmond remarked as Aiden walked into the office with reddened eyes shrouded in darkness by dark circles.
Aiden tried not to flinch at the older man’s choice of words and settled himself at his desk.
‘I had a rough night,’ Aiden explained, not wanting to go in to details.
‘There’s some nasty bugs going round,’ Edmond empathized. ‘Had one myself a few weeks back. I was up and down all night. I swear, when Johnny Cash sung about the ring of fire he must have been—’
‘Coffee?’ Aiden suggested, stopping Edmond before he could conclude his musings.
‘Sounds good!’
Edmond used the intercom to request Betty bring in two mugs of coffee.
Aiden began to work through his emails which were thankfully, relatively mundane and required little mental exertion on his part. His head throbbed from lack of sleep and his neck remained sore. Even his second cup of coffee of the day struggled to reinvigorate his stale senses.
‘How are things fixed for the next few days?’ Aiden asked his colleague suddenly, an impulsive thought entering his mind, a thought which he was determined to act upon.
‘I’m in the office for the rest of the week,’ Edmond answered between mouthfuls as he enjoyed the doughnut he’d asked Betty to bring over with his coffee.
‘Would it be okay if I take the rest of the week off?’ Aiden asked.
‘I guess so, why?’
‘I’m thinking of heading to Chicago for a few days,’ Aiden declared, immediately feeling better having said his decision out loud.
‘Oh?’ Edmond asked, intrigued.
‘Yeah, there’s someone I need to see.’
*
Isla received four more notes. All in the same strange style with cut-out lettering on pristine white paper. All seemingly delivered whilst she was at home, even though she did her best to watch the road at all times. When she was distracted by Meegan or a call of nature, she’d come back and see the arm of the mailbox raised; taunting her. The wording of the notes changed but the message remained the same.
Go Back Home
Leave Now
Never Return
This Is Our Town
Someone wanted Isla and her family gone and they weren’t shy about voicing their feelings. Isla kept all the notes in a neat pile in the drawer in the kitchen. She hadn’t showed them again to Aiden.
A patrol car idled around her neighbourhood at least once a day. Isla would watch the vehicle pass, wondering what on earth it was doing there. She couldn’t shake the obvious conclusion that Buck Fern might be behind the notes. He’d never favoured the family and more than a little bad blood had been spilled between him and Aiden. But Isla knew that the old sheriff was much more than an old man with a grudge. Like Clyde White had been when he’d threatened Isla in broad daylight as she stood with Meegan in the grocery store, Buck was willing to go to any lengths to protect the legacy of his beloved town.
Opening the kitchen drawer, Isla looked down at the growing stack of notes. If Buck Fern had set out to scare her, he’d certainly achieved his objective.
*
It was over dinner that Aiden dropped the bombshell on Isla that he would be going away for a few days. He picked his moment just as she was serving their dinner, which consisted of hot dogs and salad, and she paused by the table, clutching the salad bowl and staring at Aiden in disbelief.
‘You’re going away?’ she asked, confused.
‘Just for a few days,’ Aiden said flippantly.
‘For work?’ Isla clarified.
‘Obviously for work!’
‘Oh, okay.’ This seemed to settle Isla and she served the salad between them before sitting down at the table to eat her dinner.
‘I don’t want to go but I can’t help it,’ Aiden offered in an attempt to reassure her.
‘Where is it you’re going?’
Aiden braced himself, knowing full well that this was the part that his wife would like the least. He had considered lying to her, saying he was going somewhere else but he knew the lies would only catch up with him eventually; she’d find a credit card receipt for a hotel or Edmond would casually ask how things were in the city. It was easier to be honest and just take the initial hit of her anger early on.
‘Chicago.’
Isla released the hot dog she had been holding and it fell to her plate with a soft thud.
‘Chicago?’ she asked, astounded.
‘Yeah,’ Aiden shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of the situation.
‘Our Chicago?’
‘No another one. Of course our Chicago.’ He was getting annoyed now.
‘Aid, how can you do this?’ Isla asked angrily.
‘Do what?’
‘How can you go to Chicago without me and Meegan! You know how much I miss the city!’ Isla was on the verge of tears. Aiden hadn’t accepted just how much his wife missed her urban life.
‘I’m going for work,’ Aiden told her calmly. ‘It’s not a holiday so I can’t have you and Meegan tagging along.’
Isla said nothing but just looked visibly distressed.
‘If it means that much to you, we can all go for a long weekend next month,’ Aiden suggested, trying to sound upbeat.
‘You know what it means to me,’ Isla told him, her voice tense.
‘It’s work,’ Aiden repeated, his own tone flattening, no longer bothering to feign buoyancy.
‘What work, the paternity case?’ Isla’s disbelief was obvious.
‘Just work,’ Aiden sighed.
‘Because I can’t see how the paternity case would need you to go to Chicago for a few days!’
Isla’s dinner remained untouched as she gave her husband a steely glare. Her features had paled since moving to Avalon as she’d not had access to her usual fake tan products and beneath her dark cloud of curls which framed her face she looked washed out. She had stopped applying her fake lashes every day and now reserved them only for special occasions. ‘There’s just no point making an effort around here,’ she had told Aiden when he asked why she no longer wore them. ‘The people here consider showering as making an effort.’
Isla still dressed immaculately in her trademark skinny jeans and shirt, but the fakery had gone. The eyelashes, the nails, the tan, all that remained was Isla in her purest, most natural form.
Aiden had anticipated that when she stripped away all the artificial elements she would be more beautiful than ever but he was wrong, though he would never tell her as much, it was more than his life was worth to admit that sort of thing to his wife. Now, Isla looked lost beneath her dark hair, her eyes merging into the rest of her pale face, now longer standing out. She was no longer beautiful, more plain. Aiden wondered if she also noticed that when she looked in the mirror and how that made her feel?
Or, he considered, it wasn’t Isla’s appearance that had changed at all, merely his perception of her. Perhaps she had always looked that way but it was only now he was seeing her with open eyes.
‘Look, I can’t explain the intricacies of the case but I need to be in Chicago, that’s all you need to know.’ Aiden sighed.
‘For how long?’
‘Three days.’
Isla suddenly got up and pulled open a kitchen drawer with such force that the handle almost broke in her hand. Aiden couldn’t leave, not when the notes were mounting up.
‘It wasn’t me,’ Isla declared fervently as she dropped the notes down on Aiden’s lap. He glanced at the pieces of paper in surprise.
‘What are these?’ Aiden put down his beer and began rifling through the notes.
‘More notes,’ Isla explained as she sat down beside him, perching expectantly on the edge of the sofa like a child anxiously awaiting their parent’s verdict over their homework. ‘They’ve been coming every couple of days.’
Aiden read the text within the notes. There was no misinterpreting their intention, someone wanted them gone. He instantly thought of Samuel Fern and Deena’s fear of the extreme lengths he might go to. Was harassing Aiden’s family in this manner something the millionaire would do? It seemed a little vulgar in style but Aiden knew better than to be surprised by what the residents of Avalon were capable of.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ Isla admitted, her lip quivering. ‘I keep feeling like someone is watching the house, watching me and Meegan.’
Aiden reached out and placed a comforting hand upon his wife’s knee.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,’ he told her sincerely. ‘These notes are pretty fucked up. I understand why you’re upset.’
‘But what can I do about them?’ Isla asked as she wiped a tear from her cheek.
‘Have you contacted the sheriff’s office?’
‘What?’ Isla flinched slightly at the suggestion. Why would she call the office of the very man she felt was responsible for the notes?
‘The sheriff’s office is the law enforcement round here,’ Aiden said apologetically. ‘I know Buck Fern is difficult to deal with but, sadly for this kind of problem, he’s our first port of call.’
‘But I think it is Buck Fern writing the notes!’ Isla cried, almost hysterical. ‘I see that damn patrol car crawling by here every afternoon! That sick bastard must be getting a kick out of seeing me squirm like this!’
Isla dropped her head into her hands and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold in the tears.
‘Hey,’ Aiden put his arms around his wife and drew her close to him. ‘Buck Fern is many things but I don’t think he’d leave vicious notes like this. He regularly tells me the problems he has with me directly to my face!’
Isla curled up next to her husband and wept. She wanted to believe what he said, that Buck Fern wasn’t behind the notes. But she also knew that she had few options left other than to call the Sheriff’s Office. It was either that or leave Avalon and she knew she’d have better luck dealing with old Buck Fern than trying to convince Aiden to leave.
*
Isla steeled herself as, at the end of the drive, the sheriff’s patrol car parked up and Buck Fern stepped out, squinting in to the sunshine. He took a moment to adjust his Stetson before advancing slowly up her drive.
He knocked once on the door. A single, blunt sound which reverberated around the house.
‘Sheriff, hi,’ Isla put on her most welcoming smile as she greeted him.
‘Afternoon,’ Buck tipped his hat in greeting. ‘Mind if I come in?’
‘Of course.’ Isla stepped aside and let him in. Buck confidently strode passed her as though he owned the place.
‘Nice little house you got here,’ he nodded as his sharp eyes instantly absorbed every detail with just one look.
Isla led him into the kitchen where she sat down at the table. Buck preferred to stand, leaning casually against the counter still wearing his boots.
‘I hear you made a call about some nuisance letters.’ His Southern drawl elongated each word when he spoke.
‘Yes,’ Isla nodded and got back up, opening the relevant drawer and producing the stack of collected letters.
‘Here they are,’ she handed the bundle to him. He began to slowly sift through them, though he didn’t appear to be reading the messages, merely going through the motions.
‘As you can see, the notes are quite hostile in nature,’ Isla said as she sat back down.
‘Indeed,’ Buck nodded in agreement. Then, suddenly, he looked up at her with his eyes as sharp and deadly as a dart.
‘I should really have worn gloves whilst handling these,’ he announced. ‘Now my fingerprints are all over them.’
Isla instantly wrapped her arms protectively around herself. She didn’t like the sheriff’s tone.
‘Well what can you do about them?’ she asked, forcing herself to sound confident and undeterred by the venomous notes.
‘As you say, they are pretty hostile in nature,’ Buck quoted her own words almost mockingly.
‘You want my advice?’ he placed the notes back on the table and studied Isla intently.
‘You’re the sheriff around here so, yes, I’d like your advice on dealing with this negative behaviour!’ Isla retorted sarcastically.
‘I’d suggest you heed these warnings.’
‘What?’ Isla could feel the colour draining from her face. Buck’s thin mouth drew into a slight smile as he spoke, relishing her mounting fear.
‘Whoever wrote these has gone to a lot of trouble to send you a message. I wouldn’t want to say what the author might be capable of.’
Isla blinked in quick succession, trying to decipher what the sheriff was saying. He was behind the notes, he had to be. Was he actually standing there in her own kitchen, in the middle of the day, threatening her?
‘My family has helped this town,’ Isla began nervously. ‘My husband, he saved an innocent woman’s life.’
‘Did he?’ Buck scowled resentfully. ‘Whatever Brandon did to that young woman, he didn’t deserve to die for it. Whether or not it was her hand that delivered the killing blow, she still had a hand in his death. And now she’s walking free and he’s six feet under.’
‘Aiden was just doing his job!’ Isla defended her husband.
‘I imagine that’s not how most folk round ’ere see it.’ Buck told her coldly. ‘He ruined a good man’s name and for what? A pretty face?’
Isla’s cheeks reddened. She’d always suspected Aiden’s fondness of Brandy went beyond a professional relationship but to hear someone else allude to it was unbearable and humiliating.
‘Girl like Brandy is used to getting men to do her bidding,’ Buck continued. ‘Pretty woman like yourself, I’m sure Aiden always does what you want. Unless someone else pinches your spot at the top of his to-do list.’
The crudeness of the comment made Isla’s temper flare.
‘I think it’s time you left.’ She stood up quickly, sending her chair skidding across the floor.
‘All right, all right, I’m going.’ Buck raised his hands and moved out of the kitchen, a wicked smile pulling on his thin lips. ‘Don’t go getting your panties in a bunch!’
‘My panties are just fine, thank you,’ Isla told him curtly as she opened her front door and let in the heat of the late afternoon.
‘Mrs Connelly.’ Buck tipped his hat as he left. Isla resisted the urge to spit in his face. He was a cruel and
vindictive man masquerading as a gentleman and she’d do nothing to further the performance.
Seething, she slammed the door shut and pushed herself up against the wall, breathing hard. She wasn’t sure which element of the conversation had disturbed her more; the fact that Buck had openly threatened her or that even he had noticed just how much Aiden seemed to care for Brandy.
*
Isla’s list of things she wanted from the city could rival War and Peace in length. Aiden briefly perused it as he packed his suitcase. She wanted various specialist make-up items, some perfume, shoes, some designer clothes. Each item had very specific instructions on where to find it and what, exactly, she wanted. At the very bottom she’d added as an afterthought, ‘and a toy for Meegan’.
He placed the list in amongst his neatly folded shirts and sweaters. He felt a strange surge of excited energy run through him when he considered that in less than twenty-four hours he would be within the same city as Brandy.
Aiden had considered calling her to let her know he was coming but decided against it as he might yet be unable to gather the courage to carry out his intention to go and see her. But he was driven by the thought that the news of Davis’ Fern father being Brandon White would become public, one way or another, and it mattered to him deeply that she hear the news from him.
‘What time’s your flight?’ Isla asked from the doorway.
‘Half eight in the morning.’
‘Please, you can’t go away!’ Isla implored him again.
‘Isla, I’ve got to go. It’s for work.’
‘No, please! Don’t leave me alone here! I don’t feel safe!’ Isla was still struggling to shake off her encounter with Buck Fern. Each time she walked in the kitchen she saw him stood there, leaning casually against the counter and mocking her fears.
The patrol car still slid by her house every afternoon, creeping along the curb and reminding her of his constant presence in Avalon.
‘Isla, I’ve got to go!’ Aiden repeated with more ferocity.
‘Aid, please,’ Isla pleaded with him, tears running down her face. ‘It’s Buck Fern who wrote me those awful letters! He said as much when he was here! I can’t stay here alone! It’s not safe!’