by Carys Jones
‘Luckily for you, Mr….’
‘Connelly.’
‘Luckily for you, Mr. Connelly, I’m in a good mood today. I can give you twenty minutes with the files you want, no more.’ He thanked her as she opened the door and led him into a small room which was a hallway to another room, currently locked. This door was flanked by two desks, at one of which the woman presumably sat. She instructed Aiden to make himself comfortable at the other as she went to get his requested files. When he said Brandy’s name he watched for any flicker of recognition but she didn’t show any signs of being aware of the scandal. But then this wasn’t Avalon, Brandy’s case was probably small news, if newsworthy at all.
It wasn’t long before Aiden was gazing down at the patient files for Brandy White née Cotton. Her patient history wasn’t that extensive. The incident with the glass vase had been her first admission. She had been treated for severe cuts and abrasions, needing numerous stitches and a blood transfusion. She was then kept in under observation for two nights. As he scanned the notes he saw that at one point there had been a request by the on-call doctor for a psychiatric consultant to come and see Brandy. They must have thought that she had done it to herself. However, she was discharged before she was seen. It was noted that her body was covered in multiple bruises which weren’t related to the smashed vase accident, but the doctor seemed to reach the wrong conclusion, that Brandy was self-harming. There was no connection made to Brandon at all.
The second time Brandy had been admitted was when she had lost her baby. The report made for more interesting reading:
Female, 22, came in after falling at home. Took a huge blow to the stomach. Was measuring at 24 weeks pregnant. Emergency ultra sound shows that baby did not survive the blow. Female also has numerous lacerations and bruising on body consistent with self, or inflicted abuse.
Note – to contact Avalon police department in order to pursue further enquiry after discharge.
Aiden re-read the last statement, shock and surprise surging through his body. So, the hospital made the connection and contacted Buck Fern. And what did he do about it? According to the police files, he did nothing. But here was proof that he was aware of the situation of the young White couple. The old sheriff was undoubtedly withholding information from Aiden.
‘May I please take a copy of this?’
‘Yes, if you are quick, the copier is just there.’ The woman pointed to a bulky machine in the far corner. Aiden hurriedly made a copy of both documents.
‘Thank you so much,’ he told her as he gathered his things to leave. ‘You may well have just saved somebody’s life.’
When Aiden arrived home, drained and exhausted, his tea lay waiting on the table and a sleeping Isla and Meegan were laid out on the couch. It was fairly late – past seven – when he got in, he had got stuck in traffic, so he just sat down to eat his dinner alone.
He must have made too much noise as a grumpy-looking Isla soon came in to join him, rubbing her eyes.
‘I had tea ready at half five as you had said you’d be finishing early today. I called the office but there was no one there.’
‘Sorry, babe,’ Aiden mumbled between mouthfuls.
‘Where were you?’
‘At the hospital.’
‘The hospital?’ He got up and fetched himself a beer and took a deep, refreshing swig from the bottle before answering his wife.
‘Don’t worry, I’mOK, it was to do with the case.’
‘The case, oh, of course,’ she said bitterly.
‘Don’t be like that.’
‘You could have let me know you’d be home late.’
‘I got stuck in traffic.’ Isla was pouting in annoyance. He reached out across the table and grabbed her hand. ‘I’m sorry, I should have called. But thanks so much for dinner, honey, it is just what I needed.’
‘Well, thank God dinner is on the table!’ Isla yelled, pulling away from his hand and rising to her feet. ‘I’m just being a good little wifey and doing my bit for my big, working husband!’
‘Isla, calm down, you’ll wake Meegan.’
‘Well, you don’t want that, because then you’ll have to bother yourself with putting her to bed, best she stay sleeping! Makes it easier for you, maybe I should have just stayed asleep too!’
‘You’re being ridiculous,’ he snapped angrily. Fatigue was setting in and he hadn’t the energy to argue with her but she was testing his patience.
‘No, you are the ridiculous one, Aid. Coming home at all hours and thinking it is fine!’
‘All hours, Isla, it is seven! I used to come home much later than this in Chicago!’
‘But this isn’t Chicago, is it? I was happy in Chicago. I knew who I was in Chicago, I wasn’t trying to be some housewife that I’m not! I’m lonely here, Aid. You are supposed to be home at a decent hour!’ Their raised voices woke Meegan who promptly burst into tears.
‘Now look what you’ve done!’ Isla screamed at him.
‘Me?’ he asked in disbelief. With a huff, she stormed off into the lounge to comfort their daughter. Aiden shook his head wearily and drained his beer bottle.
Outside, dusk had settled in and shadows were fading fast. Soon it would be dark. Aiden enjoyed the dark void that came with night. When all colour was drained from the world, it felt as though the earth died, and each morning, with sunshine, she was reborn. A new start. Aiden’s new start in Avalon wasn’t going as well as he’d planned, but this was just the adapting period. Soon his family would feel more settled here and life would fall into a comfortable rhythm. For now, he was just riding out the storm of Isla’s mood swings. He contemplated following her into the lounge and attempting to make up but he didn’t see the point. He had done nothing wrong and wanted nothing more than to enjoy a deep, dreamless sleep. He headed upstairs to bed as Isla sat rocking Meegan back and forth, the little girl calm once more. When Aiden’s head hit the pillow he left this world for another, and for eight blissful hours, everything felt perfect.
Chapter Eight: Unhappy Families
When Aiden awoke he found Isla curled up in bed beside him. He felt guilty about their argument the previous evening but decided against waking her. On his way downstairs he checked in on Meegan. She was still sound asleep, hugging her favourite stuffed toy. As quietly as possible, he pottered about the kitchen, making himself some coffee and toast. Admittedly, he had gotten up earlier than usual. It was 7am and these days he normally didn’t have to be up until eight. Part of him knew that he was trying to avoid Isla. He knew that she would still be sore about their fight, especially since he went up to bed without first making it up with her. Whilst he didn’t like arguing with his wife, he had bigger things on his mind. He was going to see Brandy that morning to finally find out what happened on that fateful night when she murdered her husband.
Aiden already had his own theory about what had transpired between them but he needed to hear it from Brandy. He was certain that she would be distressed recalling the details to him and he felt strangely disturbed by this. He should feel disconnected from his clients, an impassive observer just there to help perform legalities. Yet he felt involved with Brandy’s case, perhaps because he felt that he was the only person who believed her, her only ally.
He filled his favourite blue mug up with black coffee and sat down at the table. It was silly how attached he was to the mug, but it held a lot of memories for him. Sometimes you needed to feel connected to the past.
It was a dull morning; the clouds were dense with the promise of rain. He momentarily toyed with the idea of waking Meegan but knew that it would only be for selfish reasons. He was feeling the weight of this case and her smiling face and childish giggles would have been a welcome distraction. Isla, however, was just making him feel even worse about things. Wasn’t a wife’s duty to support her husband? No, that was an embarrassingly old-fashioned view. But still…he was the sole breadwinner in the house these days, yet she still moaned at him and pulled him apart. H
e had hoped that Avalon would have started to rub off on her by now. He didn’t know what he had expected, perhaps a Stepford Wives-style transformation? Isla was still being difficult and it saddened him to think that rather than leave their problems in Chicago, they appeared to have followed them to Avalon. Perhaps he had been foolish to think that relocating the family would solve everything.
Movement upstairs disturbed Aiden from his thoughts. He hastily finished his coffee and left the house. As Isla entered the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she saw Aiden backing out of the driveway. She caught his eye and he waved half-heartedly. She didn’t bother returning the gesture.
‘You are mighty eager today,’ Brandy smiled as she sat down opposite Aiden. ‘I’ve only just finished my breakfast!’
‘What did you have?’ Aiden asked, more to help make Brandy feel at ease than out of genuine interest. She made a face as if she was about to be sick.
‘Porridge, eugh.’ She made vomiting sounds. ‘It looks like cement, it tastes like cement!’
‘Sounds delicious!’ he laughed.
‘Well then, I’ll make sure to save you some next time!’
As nice as it was to banter with Brandy, Aiden was there for a reason.
‘Brandy.’ She looked at him, eyes wide, face open, ready and willing to tell him whatever he needed to know. ‘I need you to tell me what happened the night of April 16th.’ He watched her closely, waiting for her to start crying or shaking, but to his surprise she remained calm.
‘The night I killed Brandon?’
‘Yes, that’s the one.’
‘Right you are then.’ She coughed nervously. ‘Well, I stabbed him.’
‘I know you stabbed him. I need to know why you stabbed him. What happened that night to make you stab him?’
‘What happened that night? You mean what had happened for the last five years? Each time he hit me, spat on me, called me names, that is what led up to that night. I was planning on leaving him. I’d saved up a bit of money, it wasn’t much but it was enough to get me out of the state. My bag was all packed and ready by the door. I was determined to make a new start. He was supposed to be staying over at a friend’s, but for some reason, he came home.’
‘How did he react when he knew you were leaving him?’
‘Oh, you know, he gave me a kiss, said we had had a good run and wished me well,’ she said sarcastically. ‘How do you think he reacted?’ Brandy’s eyes darkened. ‘He unleashed the devil’s fury.’
‘So he attacked you?’
Brandy squirmed in her chair, pained by the memories she was being forced to recall.
‘Like I said, he came home early, all liquored up and horny as a schoolboy. He was all, “Baby, come to bed,” and I kept resisting but trying to keep him calm. Hoping against hope that he wouldn’t spot my bag. At first he didn’t. But his hands were all over me, I kept pushing him off but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. It wasn’t the first time he had forced himself on me, but I knew it was going to be the last, so after a while I just stopped fighting and let him have his fun. I was kind of banking on him falling asleep after anyways, and then I’d just leave whilst he was sleeping off his night of drinking. But after, as he was about to go and collapse on the bed, he noticed the bag out of the corner of his eye. Real calm, he turns to me and asks where I’m going. I start to panic, but try to seem allOK, so I tell him I’ve found my Ma after all these years and that I’m going to see her. He calls me a liar and punches me square in the face. Then he walks off into the other room and I’m hoping that he’s done. But he comes back in with my ironing board and iron and sets them up, yelling that I’ve got chores to do before I can go anywhere.’
Brandy stopped and started rubbing her arms nervously.
‘What happened?’ Aiden hated himself for asking.
‘He starts taking my clothes out of my bag, telling me that they are creased and need ironing. I don’t know what to do so I just go along with it and start ironing, still thinking that if I keep him happy he’ll leave me alone soon enough and I can escape. Then suddenly, halfway through, he grabs my one arm, holds it up and snatches the iron out of the other. He had a wild look in his eyes, like he’d lost all control. I tried to get away but he was too strong. He said that he knew I was going to leave him, but that I couldn’t because of our vows. He said that we were together until death did us part. I was terrified, and then he…’ She undid the zipper on her orange jumpsuit. The guards stepped forward to intervene but Aiden held up his hand to let them know it wasOK. She wore a plain white bra but he didn’t see that. He couldn’t take his eyes off her flat stomach and the three distinct iron-shaped burns that covered it.
‘The pain, it was so bad, I begged him to stop. When he was satisfied, he stormed out of the room and I just lay there in agony. I thought about calling the hospital but decided against it. I needed to get away. I dragged myself to my feet and started putting my clothes back in the bag. He came back in and slapped me so hard I fell to the ground. He spat on me, kicked me, called me an ungrateful whore. I was crying and pleading with him but his eyes were hollow, like he was a man possessed. I scrambled to my feet and he began throwing things at me, anything and everything. By now I was in the kitchen, holding onto the counter top for support. He’s still chucking things, and while his back was momentarily turned I picked up the biggest knife in the drawer that I could find. I didn’t have no intention of killing him, I just wanted to stop him from hurting me. But he noticed the knife, he came over, knocked me to the floor, the knife went flying, and he wrapped his hands around my neck. I couldn’t breathe, everything was going black, I knew that if I didn’t do something I was going to die. With the last bit of strength that I had I reached across the floor, found the knife and then just plunged it into his bulk of a body as many times as it took for him to finally loosen his grip.’
Brandy shook her head in sadness and disbelief. Her arms hugged her tiny body as she struggled to find some comfort from her grief.
‘So, you killed him in self-defence?’ Aiden reasoned.
‘But, I wanted him to die. After, he was so still, and there was blood everywhere. I didn’t know what to do. I just watched him for a while, convinced that he wasn’t dead, that the moment I turned my back he was going to get up and finish me off. I worked up enough courage to take a look into his eyes. They were glazed over, as if he were staring far, far into the distance, that was when I knew the devil had finally taken him. I called 911, I can’t even remember what I said. It felt like the world was moving in slow motion, nothing felt real. I just sat there, waiting for the police to come, feeling nothing but relief to finally be free of Brandon.’
‘Who turned up, was it Sheriff Fern?’
‘Sheriff Fern arrived at the house first. He took one look at Brandon, then at me covered in his blood and just handcuffed me straight away, no questions or anything. I was screaming and crying when he led me away, telling him that it wasn’t my fault but he just looked me square in the eye and called me a demon. Two other officers showed up as he was putting me in his squad car. They paid me no mind, just went straight to gawp at Brandon’s body.’
‘Were you seen by a doctor, for your burns?’
‘No, I tried to talk to Sheriff Fern as he drove me to the station but he just turned his radio up as high as it would go so as not to hear me. He is a cold man.’
‘Yeah, he didn’t strike me as the friendly type,’ Aiden said as he furiously wrote notes. He glanced again at the copy he had of the police report from April 16th. It was noted that Brandy had been hysterical, but there was no mention of the wounds she had. Again, it was signed off by Sheriff Fern. The post mortem merely stated that Brandon had died from multiple stab wounds, it also noted that there had been a toxicology report. However, Aiden did not have those results. He had not noticed that they were missing before, yet he had no memory of having read them, which meant that Buck Fern had never given them to him.
‘You said Brando
n was drunk?’
‘As an Irishman.’
Surely, Buck Fern would not go to such lengths just to disguise that Brandon was drunk. It was hardly a sin to drink too much. No, there must be something else.
‘Did Brandon ever take drugs?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘But if he did, it may help to explain his violent behaviour. You said he became a different person once you were married.’
‘Yes, he completely changed.’
‘If he did do drugs, that might help to explain that change.’
‘I don’t know, Mr. Connelly. Brandon took his health real serious, he still saw himself as an athlete, I couldn’t see him taking no drugs.’
Aiden glanced at his watch.
‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you for today.’ Brandy seemed deeply saddened by this.
‘Well, thank you, Mr. Connelly. For taking the time to listen to me.’
‘It isOK.’ He felt himself blush. He wasn’t used to this kind of genuine appreciation.
‘You don’t think I’m a monster, do you? I know what people have been saying and I’m not like that.’
‘I don’t think that you are a monster, Brandy. Far from it.’
‘Good,’ Brandy smiled. ‘Because when you look at me, Mr. Connelly, for the first time in a long time, I feel like a person. Like what I say matters. And I’d hate it if you stopped looking at me like that.’
‘I won’t.’
‘You are a good man.’
‘I try to be.’
The guards led away Prisoner 929. To Aiden, she was no longer a murderer; he had never truly believed that she was capable of killing someone in cold blood. She was a victim of circumstance. If she hadn’t killed Brandon, he would have undoubtedly killed her. But, if she were to die for her crime, would that be justice, or would it just be Brandon getting what he wanted, even from beyond the grave?