by H. P. Bayne
Sully shook his head. “Not there. He never appeared to me in any of those visions they forced on me. It was somewhere else. I can’t place it.”
Dez spoke quietly. “It’s not because he’s… you know.”
“My half-brother?” Sully finished for Dez, who shrugged and smiled apologetically. “No, I don’t think that’s it.”
“You spent two solid years in The Forks,” Lachlan said. “It’s possible you passed by their old house. Maybe you saw his ghost there.”
“Maybe.” But Sully wasn’t sure. He had a sense of the answer being something else, something he couldn’t put a finger on. “Are you able to make a copy of this photo? I wouldn’t mind having it with me. I want to give it some thought.”
“I don’t see why not,” Lachlan said. “Just don’t tell anyone. I’m not supposed to have the file, let alone be making copies of it.”
“Hey,” Sully said with a grin. “Who would I tell? Almost everyone I know is in this room.”
“Good point,” Lachlan said. “I’ll make you that copy, and I’ll give you the address to the old house. Maybe you could swing by there when you go back to The Forks, see if you notice anyone or anything around the place.”
“No,” Dez said. “It’s bad enough he’s at Ravenwood, but at least not a lot of people go there. If he starts wandering around The Forks, he’s a walking target.”
“I hate to tell you this, Dez, but I’ve walked around there before,” Sully said. “I’m still alive. Anyway, I’ve always had Pax with me. He’s a pretty powerful disincentive for anyone thinking I’d make a good victim.”
“I still don’t like it,” Dez said. “If you check out this house, I’m going with you.”
“I need you to come with me to talk to Gerhardt,” Lachlan said.
“Why?” Dez asked. “I won’t be much help. The guy hates me.”
“While I’m sure he’s eager for answers, I can’t imagine he’ll be in a hurry to trust a pair of P.I.s nosing around. He won’t want us anywhere near his dirty little secrets, and he’ll wonder whether we have ulterior motives. You’ll be a good in.”
“Right. Because me turning up on his doorstep is going to get us past his defences. He knows I hate him over what went down with Sully.”
“He also likely knows by now you were with his buddy Hackman when he expired. Honestly, I’m starting to think our best tactic might be you going on your own to see him, get a look inside his house, see what you see.”
“If Sully can get us some answers at the old house, it will give us an even better in,” Dez said. “And if he’s going, so am I.”
Sully jumped in before his brother got too ahead of himself. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Dez. I can get around The Forks okay on my own because I know how to look like I belong around there. You—”
“Hey, I can scruff myself up just like you can.”
“You don’t even own the right clothes.”
“We can stop by one of the secondhand shops in Riverview. They’ve got a lot of nasty-looking junk no one will ever buy. You can give me a makeover.”
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I don’t care what you think,” Dez said. “You’re not going alone. And before you bring up Pax, I was going to say I kind of like the idea of him acting as guard dog for Mom and Kayleigh while we’re not there. That dog barely trusts anyone, and I like that. He’ll eat Lowell for breakfast before he’ll let him hurt anyone in that house.”
Sully had planned to go back and get Pax before heading back to The Forks. The dog wasn’t just protection, he was a companion, a good friend to help him stay calm and settled in a place where calm was hard to come by. But he also saw Dez’s point. Sully would never find peace again if anything happened to anyone else he loved, especially if he hadn’t done everything in his power to protect them. If loaning them Pax would help keep them safe—and he knew it would—he was willing to make the temporary sacrifice.
“Are you planning to go to there now?” Lachlan asked.
“I’m not planning to be there once the sun sets,” Dez said. “That’s for sure.”
Lachlan appeared to be thinking, and judging by the tight expression on his face, his thoughts weren’t taking him anywhere good. “I hate to say it, but I’m not sure I’m up to the trip. Taking a boat out and sitting on the shore is one thing, but venturing in there is another. I’m not in the best shape of my life at the moment. If we were to run into trouble, I’m not sure I’d—”
“It’s okay, man,” Dez said. “We’ve got it cased. What are you going to do?”
“Keep digging through this file for a start. And I’m going to get us Gerhardt’s current home address as well. If I get it soon enough, I’ll take a spin past, see what I can see. You can get a good feel for a man by checking out his home.” He leaned forward in his chair, fixing first Sully and then Dez in a pointed look. “I know I’m not your father, and I’m not trying to be. But I’m going to insist you take every precaution while you’re in The Forks. Don’t take any chances. If you feel like things are going south, get out fast. It might prove useful to check out the old house, but it isn’t worth your lives. You understand me?”
In Sully’s peripheral vision, Dez smiled. Sully felt his own lips turning up in response to the unusual display of concern from Dez’s boss.
“Thanks, Lachlan,” Dez said. “We’ll be careful. Don’t worry.”
“Hey,” Lachlan said. “I’m a man with a concussion and a doctor with a stick up his ass. It feels like all I’m cleared to do is worry.”
9
By the time they made it back to the island upon which The Forks had been built, evening was on the verge of closing in. Sully sensed the worry wafting from Dez.
They’d stopped at a few secondhand shops first, not all of them carrying clothes large enough to fit Dez’s larger-than-normal form. As it stood, there hadn’t been much to pick from.
Sully fought the grin as he checked out his brother for the hundredth time. Dez was kitted out in a worn pair of camouflage pants, a T-shirt with a goofy logo he had promptly concealed beneath the zip of a slightly-too-small hoodie and a trench coat that somehow managed to be a little too big on him. He’d found himself a cap too, one he’d tugged further over his features each time he passed someone remotely respectable on the Riverview-neighbourhood streets.
“I look like a cartoon,” Dez complained as he finished pulling their rented rowboat onto the shore. He straightened up and lifted the bottom seam of his outer jacket. “Does this look like blood to you?”
Sully peered at the suspicious brown-red stain and shrugged. “Maybe. If it is, it’s old.”
Beneath the brim of his cap, Dez’s eyes widened perceptibly. “What if someone died in this coat?”
Sully laughed.
“It’s not funny,” Dez complained.
Sully patted his brother on the chest, then went to haul the boat farther up the shore to where he could conceal it in the trees. Dez gave him a hand. The other boat—the one Sully usually used—was still there, hidden in the greenery. They’d rented the current one at the Kimotan Rapids Rowing Club from a guy who seemed suspicious of them, and there would be hell to pay if they didn’t get it back to him by the end of the evening.
“We’ve got three hours before the club closes,” Sully said.
Dez wiped his hands on his pant legs. “You really need to reconsider this whole not-coming-back-with-me thing later. That guy already looked like he wanted to report us to the police just because of the way we looked. If I turn up without you, he’s going to think I killed you and buried your body somewhere.”
Sully chuckled. “That blood stain won’t help.”
“Shut up.”
It was quicker cutting through the mansion rather than going all the way around, so Sully went for the back door. Dez grabbed his arm.
“Can’t we go around? I don’t want to go back in there.”
“It’s quicker,”
Sully said. He leaned closer, whispering the next part in Dez’s ear. “Plus I’m hoping to shake the judge.”
Dez turned wide eyes on Sully. “He’s here?”
Sully didn’t look back, but he could sense Montague behind them, a short distance back. No way he wasn’t there, having ridden over in the rowboat with them. “He’s barely left my side since he was killed.”
“We need to find a way to get rid of him.”
“One problem at a time. He won’t come in the house. I’ve figured out that much.”
Dez didn’t look sold, but the options for a guy who hated ghosts weren’t great: haunted house or stalking spirit. In the end, Dez chose the house, leading the way to the back door.
“I hate this,” he said as he went.
Sully did his best at a reassuring smile before nudging past Dez to open the door.
They’d taken just two steps inside—the door closed behind them and Montague left, scowling, in the back garden—when the whistle of something cutting through the air had Sully ducking. Noisy Ned, unfortunately, had grown wise to their tricks and had aimed lower this time. Sully grunted in pain as something caught him hard in the left hip. He looked down to see a small but solid paperweight hit the floor and roll.
“Damn it!” he shouted. “It’s me!”
He and Dez stalled in the rear entryway, waiting. When nothing else sailed through the air at them, Sully decided he’d gotten his point across.
“You okay?” Dez asked. “That thing hit you pretty hard.”
Sully rubbed at his hip. “Yeah. At least I know Ned’s on the ball.”
“How about you-know-who? Did we lose him?”
Sully took a quick glance, spotted the furious ex-judge glaring at the house from the backyard. “He’s still outside. I won’t know if we’ve lost him until we’re out the front.”
Sully led the way through the house, Dez a hovering presence at his right shoulder. Thankfully, they reached the front entrance without further problems.
With no immediate sign of Montague, the brothers walked through the large, overgrown front yard and down the long drive leading to the main road. Sully had ventured this way a few times, but could count the trips on one hand. Several times in the winter when the river had not been quite frozen enough to safely cross, he’d been forced to resort to taking stuff still left at the nearby shuttered shops. He’d been fortunate Ravenwood sat on the end of the island, farthest from the majority of the homes and businesses. Few people ventured out this way, and those who did found little to hold them here. A handful of smaller stores were in this area—those that hadn’t been utterly destroyed by the violence of the flood—and while they’d been burgled like everything else, there was still a decent supply of goods.
He hoped, with temperatures dropping, people would be less likely to venture out of doors as the evening closed in, enabling him and Dez to make their way unbothered to the Gerhardts’ old property.
Dez checked his cellphone screen. “It’s probably about a half-hour walk from here. We’ll have to make it a quick search if I’m going to get the boat back before close.”
“In The Forks, you need to do everything quick,” Sully said. “By the way, commit the map to memory. You don’t want to be flashing electronics around here.”
Dez nodded, gave his screen one last long look before handing it to Sully to do the same. Map committed to memory, Dez returned the phone to one of his many pockets and joined Sully as they passed through the large gate separating Ravenwood from the main road.
The roadway had once been well-maintained, paved and manicured for the benefit of the ultra-rich who lived on this side of the island. The flood and the subsequent years of abandonment had left the pavement cracked and outright broken, creating places for grass, weeds and even small trees to sprout. The ditch made for an easier walk, and Sully kept them there, the treed sides providing a good place to duck into should the need for quick concealment arise. Sully hadn’t told Dez, but a notorious local street gang had turned one of the nearby mansions into its stronghold, meaning it wasn’t uncommon for several members at a time to drive along here, between their house and the busier sections of The Forks. The gang had checked out Ravenwood initially, before being chased out by Ned.
Usually, if gang members were on the road, Sully had some forewarning in the sound of an approaching engine. If he heard anything like that, he’d tug Dez into the bushes and deal later with the fallout from the required explanation. If Dez found out Sully’s nearest neighbours were the inner circle of the Red Jacks, he’d use any means necessary to get Sully back to the mainland with him at evening’s end—force included.
“I didn’t really like The Forks when it was the way it used to be,” Dez said. “But this is actually kinda sad.”
“Kind of ironic too,” Sully said. “The rich chased the poor out of here constantly, and now the poor own it.”
“What’s left of it, anyway.”
They fell silent as they maintained a brisk pace west, past the island’s largest properties.
Dez commented as they moved past one spot, the property all but obscured by the trees that had grown in. “That’s where Paul Dunsmore lived, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. There’s nothing left now, though. The house was completely washed away.”
“Jesus,” Dez muttered.
Sully knew where his brother’s thoughts had gone. Four years ago, Sully had been trapped in the house with Paul, Bulldog and Bulldog’s niece. Only because of Dez and Eva’s timely arrival and some ghostly assistance were they all able to make it out alive. The fact the entire house had been taken by the flood sealed just how close they’d come.
They left it at that, and Sully kept his focus centred on the houses coming into view ahead where they lined the road. There wasn’t much left of these places, most too badly damaged by the flood waters to provide adequate shelter. They’d have more to worry about once they turned north and headed deeper into The Forks where the former businesses and numerous other homes stood. The damage had been lessened to those on higher ground when compared to buildings near the river’s edge—making them more attractive to those in need. Sully opted to steer them away from the main roads upon which most businesses were situated, taking them through residential areas instead. There, they cut through overgrown yards, avoiding the more open streets wherever possible.
They passed a few people, those who, like Sully, had sought a place farther from the crime and drug scene plaguing the west side of the island. The people here were either in a similar predicament to Sully’s—forced to avoid the outside world—or they were addicts who needed to be close enough to their dealers but wanted to avoid the unpredictability and frequent violence within the drug scene itself. Like their surroundings, these people were a wreck, an abandoned part of this city left to fend for themselves.
Dez was right. It was sad.
Dez remained a rigid bundle of tension at Sully’s side until, at last, they reached the Gerhardts’ house.
“That’s it, right?” Dez asked as the two of them stared at the large two-storey Victorian. “I can’t make out the numbers on most of these places.”
“Looks like the one we saw in the pictures back at Lachlan’s, but everything looks a lot different after the flood.” Sully peered closer. Lots of buildings in The Forks had been tagged with graffiti, but the stuff marking this building was different. These weren’t gang tags; they were personal. Deranged Doctor. Psycho Shrink. A variety of curse words. These were the markings of people who’d been to, and escaped, Lockwood.
“Check out the tags,” Sully said. “We’ve definitely got the right house.”
Dez squinted as he read. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Listen, we’ll have to watch our step going in, and not just because of the possibility of squatters. Most places on the island are badly water damaged, with rotted-out floors and everything. Stay close to the walls, or better yet, wait outside while I look around in the house.”
“No way,” Dez said. “We’re not separating. Where you go, I go. Like you said, we can stick close to the walls, just in case.” He returned his gaze to the house, and Sully smiled as he spotted the predictable shudder. “God, it looks like the setting for a horror movie.”
“It’s just a house. It’ll be fine.”
With Dez following, Sully stepped up to the gate, left askew and prevented from closing by a young tree that had sprouted. Sully squeezed past and waited for Dez to do the same before approaching the wraparound veranda.
“Would have been a nice place in its day,” Sully said.
“Yeah, sure,” Dez said. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?”
Maintaining the lead, Sully stepped cautiously onto the planked veranda. Several boards had snapped farther down where vandals had likely tried to stand to spraypaint the exterior, and he moved even more lightly as he crossed to the partially open front door.
With Dez at his heels, Sully pushed the door all the way open, allowing light to enter the dim interior.
The inside of the house was dark enough to suggest curtains had been drawn. Whether by the last owner before they left it the night of the flood or by squatters, they had no way of knowing.
The house stank of mildew, mould and urine, the latter suggesting the vandalism wasn’t limited to paint. The overwhelming odour provided another very good reason to make this search a quick one.
Sully hugged the short wall separating the entryway from the living area. Across from him stood a staircase, one that looked to be in one piece. With any luck, the structural damage was kept to a minimum, at least compared to other places in The Forks. Taking a few steps into the room, Sully observed a creak to the floor, but not the spongy feeling suggesting rot had taken hold.
“I think it’s safe right here, but watch your step,” he said.
“I’m planning on it.”
Sully entered first what looked to be a sitting room to the left before moving to an open kitchen behind that. From here, through a gap in the curtains, showing a dust- and grime-covered piece of window, Sully could just make out the backyard.