Shallow River

by H. D. Carlton

  There’s no trace of him anymore, save for all those memories frozen in time and hung up around the house. Eventually, those will be shipped off to Matt and Julie as they mourn his death, destined for tear drops on the glass frames.

  That’s the only part that truly hurts. His mother doesn’t deserve to lose a child. It’s not her fault Ryan turned out to be a demon. She did everything in her power to give her boys the best life, but you can’t control it if your husband is a pedophile and turns your son into a sociopath.

  “We need to figure out something with the cameras,” Mako says tiredly. It’s after one in the morning now, having spent several hours cleaning. His knees are spread, elbows resting on each leg, head bowed, and his hands clasped around the back of his neck. Getting rid of Ryan’s body took a lot of emotional and physical energy. He’s drained. We both are.

  I offer a soft smile. “Already taken care of.”

  Mako’s hands drop and his head slowly rises. When our eyes clash, I’m thrown back by the look on his face. Sure, he looks just as tired as I do, but I’ve never seen Mako look so resolute.

  “How?”

  I shrug a shoulder, feigning nonchalance when I feel anything but. “I tried to escape. Ryan was watching me constantly through the cameras, everywhere I was in the house and keeping tabs on me. So, I cut the WiFi. We’d already been having issues with it going out, and as long as the WiFi was out, he couldn’t watch me on his phone.

  “He caught me, and we got in a really massive fight. I managed to overpower him when I slashed his chest open, and then knocked him out. I drugged him with Rohypnol, dragged him to the attic and the rest is history. The internet is still out, even now. None of that will have been recorded and saved to the Cloud.”

  Mako stares at me with disbelief. When he processes my words, his eyes slowly turn to a darker moss color.

  “Why the fuck was there Rohypnol in the house?” he asks slowly, his deep voice dropping an octave lower.

  My lip slides between my teeth, and I look away. It’s not my fault my boyfriend drugged and raped me, but I feel so much shame anyway. The memory of waking up with semen dried on my thigh, my body sore and battered, and no memory of any of it happening still sends shudders down my spine.

  I should probably find myself a therapist. An expensive one, at that.

  “He used it on me before.”

  I refuse to meet his burning eyes. Sensing I don’t want to talk about it, he sighs and changes the subject. “Call Dad,” he says, his voice hollow and tired. It matches nicely with the way I look. My shoulders drop in relief, and I’m more grateful than I’ll ever say that he let it go.

  Ryan’s already dead. Getting angry right now will only be exhausting at this point.

  “I don’t want you involved in this anymore, Mako. Really. All your morals just went down the drain because of me. I’m not risking you getting caught and I refuse to ruin your life like that,” I say sternly.

  “No fucking way are you doing this by yourself, River. Not happening.”

  My shoulders tense, hiking to my ears. Venom is injected in my tone when I say, “I don’t need—”

  “—me to save you, yeah I got it the first ten times you said it, sweetheart.” I bristle, heat rising into my cheeks with indignation. Right as my mouth opens, he cuts me off again. “To be frank, River, I’m not asking. The truth is, you did us both a favor by getting rid of Ryan. So, I’m going to do you a favor and make sure you pretty little ass stays out of prison. Now, please, for the love of god, call my dad.” By the time he reaches the end of his sentence, his tone turns hard and impatient, and he looks at me with pleading eyes.

  All I can do is stare at him in shock, eyes wide and mouth parted. For reasons I’m not ready to face yet, I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Matt’s number without another word. Mako resumes his previous position, though I get the feeling it’s because he wants to hide from this conversation.

  I have to call a rapist. Someone who hurt a little boy repeatedly. And act like nothing is wrong. Like he’s not a piece of shit pedophile and I didn’t just murder his son.

  “Fitzgerald,” Matt answers sleepily. I picture him flipping on the light on his nightstand, while Julie blearily lifts her head up, wondering why her husband is getting a late night call. The greeting makes my lip tremble. Hearing his voice makes my entire body seize with disgust.

  Swallowing, I open my mouth and do the hardest thing I ever had to do. Mourn Ryan’s disappearance. “Hey, Matt, it’s River,” I say, my voice trembling.

  There’s a brief pause, filled with confusion and trepidation, before Matt bounces back, sounding more alert. “River! So nice to hear from you. Is everything okay?”

  My eyes close when I hear the question. It’s a simple question really, but yet has the most complicated answer.

  “Uhh, I’m not sure actually, Matt,” I reply, keeping my worried tone. “Look, I’m really sorry to call you so late, but Friday night, Ryan said he had to go out of town for work. He didn’t say where he was going, but”—I break off, letting tears accumulate and bleed into my voice— “he was supposed to be home already. H-he’s not answering my texts or calls. I’m just really worried about him.” I end the tone with a sniffle, real tears tracking down my face.

  By now, Mako’s head has already lifted and he’s staring at me with something between surprise and awe. All I had to do is let myself feel. Let myself face the fact that the man I thought I was in love with turned out to be nothing more than Satan himself. Apple doesn’t fall to far from the fucking tree.

  “Uh—well, a work meeting, huh? Well, honey, I’m sure he just got stopped for the night at a hotel or something. I’ll see if I can get ahold of him. If we don’t hear anything from him by tomorrow morning, I’ll make some calls, okay? Just try not to worry, I’m sure Ryan is safe and sound.”

  Mako grimaces while I bite the inside of my cheek hard. I sniffle, and make myself sound extra pathetic when I say, “Okay, Matt. Thank you so much. Let me know if you hear anything.”

  “Okay, honey, I will. Goodnight now.”

  I hang up the phone and loose a harsh breath. Speaking to Matt was especially hard.

  A lot harder than murdering my own boyfriend.

  Twenty One

  River

  THE HOUSE IS COMPLETELY dark save the blaring light from the T.V. in front of me. I stand in front of it, watching the woman reporter drone on in a monotone voice. She’s wearing too much make-up.

  I correct myself. Ryan always said I wore too much makeup.

  She looks pretty. Beautiful.

  “Police officials are still investigating the disappearance of Ryan Fitzgerald, a twenty-five-year-old local from North Carolina, who was reported missing on September 8th. If anyone has seen or heard from him, please contact your local police station—"

  Contact your local police station? Where do they think he’s run off to? Out of state? Why, he was only in an attic, my dear. Now, there’s nothing left of him to find. Not even if you go looking in pig shit.

  A shrill ring snaps my gaze to my blaring cell phone, vibrating on the end table next to me. Julie. I still haven’t spoken to her.

  I ignore it and look back to the television. Ryan’s picture is displayed on the screen.

  I pinch the skin on the inside of my wrist until I’m hissing in pain. Tears well in my eyes. I sniffle.

  “I’ve been a mess, Julie,” I whimper. “I haven’t heard from him and I’m so scared.”

  A tear spills over. I fight the urge to wipe it away.

  “What if he’s hurting? Or in pain? And I’m not there to help him?!”

  Tsk. Too dramatic. I try again.

  “I miss him so much, and I just want him home,” I whisper brokenly, my eyes boring into the picture of Ryan on the screen. I sniffle, allowing a few more tears to trail down my pale cheeks.

  “I know, Julie, I know. I love him, too. I love him, too…”

  “I CAN’T DO THIS, I can’t
do this, I can’t do this…”

  “River, listen to me—”

  “They’re camping outside of the fucking house, Mako,” I say shakily, my voice ready to fall off its foundation from the tremors. I run a hand through my hair, squeezing at the scalp until I feel sharp prickles of pain dancing across my nerve-endings.

  This was not something I anticipated.

  Reporters, paparazzi, vans and cameras, constantly in my fucking face every time I leave the house. Matt tried to report Ryan missing Monday morning, but they told him he had to wait up to 72 hours before he could make a missing person’s report. Thursday morning on the dot, he filed. It’s been almost two weeks of them searching for his body, and in that time, the media has blown the story up.

  Ryan wasn’t a celebrity for fuck’s sake. But he’s the son of a notorious lawyer, who’s put away more criminals than the number of years he’s been alive. He might as well be a celebrity in our town. Fuck.

  Bilby brushes up against my legs, offering a sweet little meow. Sometimes I’m positive he can sense when I’m upset or agitated.

  I plop down on the couch, settling my head in my hands. Bilby jumps up next to me and headbutts me. I remove one hand from my head to curl my fingers against the side of his mouth. He uses my fingers as a brush and rubs up against me repeatedly.

  “Come to me tonight,” Mako demands tightly. I sigh, weary and drained. It’s a Tuesday night, and I have classes tomorrow. But I think I’m going to be skipping them for the foreseeable future, just as I have since Ryan went missing. I don’t think I can handle the stares from people who are wondering where my boyfriend is.

  Ryan deserved every single thing that came his way. I don’t regret doing what I did. I don’t regret liberating myself from an abusive relationship that was surely going to fucking kill me one day. I don’t regret standing up for myself, and I don’t regret getting revenge for all the bullshit I’ve gone through.

  But the after effect is draining. I’m still a person of interest in Ryan’s murder as of right now, but they are considering other options. Mako has told his truth—the truth that will ultimately lead to Ryan’s murderer. Ryan figured out who the Ghost Killer was. While he didn’t get the chance to tell Mako who it was, I know for a fact Ryan told somebody.

  I remember standing outside Ryan’s office, gearing myself up to ask permission to go to Amelia’s. The phone call I overheard. The utter excitement in his voice as he claims he figured something out. I hadn’t put much thought in it at the time, but now I know that he was talking to someone about the Ghost Killer.

  I had relayed that memory to Mako already, which only solidified his story. They’re going through Ryan’s phone records to pin down who he talked to.

  There’s also another theory they’re looking into, one that makes me a little nauseous. With Matt’s record of putting criminals away, it’s only logical they look into the fact that he has enemies. Which I’m sure he does. He’s put countless criminals away.

  Furthermore, Matt isn’t the man I had believed he was, who’s to say he doesn’t have his own dealings in the black market? I’m sure the asshole is sitting with his head slumped, believing that there’s a possibility that his career has killed his own son.

  “I don’t know, Mako…” I trail off. What if they follow me? Being caught going to Ryan’s brothers house in the middle of the night looks incredibly suspect. The supposed heartbroken girlfriend running off with the brother? Yeah, that doesn’t make me look fucking suspicious or anything.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Mako sighs. “I just hate the thought of you going through this alone.”

  Mako and I have to tread very carefully for now. We can’t say what we really want to say over the phone. Mako doesn’t trust anyone not to hack my phone conversations. Highly illegal, but when has the government ever had morals?

  “I appreciate that,” I say softly. It feels weird being nice to Mako. For so many months, I conditioned myself to hate him, convincing myself that Ryan’s hatred towards Mako was justified. That there was a reason of some sort. Or simply because I pledged loyalty to someone who didn’t deserve it.

  But Mako never gave up on me. This godsend of a man is helping me get away with murder. Literally. He’s helping me cover up his own brother’s death because… well because Ryan was the fucking devil incarnate. He abused both of us.

  And Mako is dealing with his own shit. Not only did he do those things for me, but he’s also facing the reality that his father is a rapist and how to navigate that. Through little snippets of conversation, he did decide to tell his mother the truth. I just don’t think he’s decided on how and when yet.

  There’s just no way I can treat Mako badly anymore. Regardless if we get away with it or not, I owe him my life. He’s risking everything for me. His career, reputation, his life. Cops don’t last long in prison. Mako has the highest catch rate out of the entire department. His enemies would be waiting for him in prison, ready to exact their own version of revenge.

  “Meet me at the library tonight,” I say. Meeting someone semi-public feels safer than going to his house. Or him coming here. I need to get out and away from this cold, sterile box. It’s a pretty box, but one that’s held nothing but haunting memories. One that I plan on moving out of as soon as possible.

  I don’t have a whole lot in my savings, but I have enough to get my own place and restart my life. If I get that privilege.

  “I’ll be there.” His low answering reply sends shivers down my spine. The warm kind that travels in between my legs and settles there. Whatever has been building between Mako and I is indescribable. I don’t know where it’s going, but fuck if I can stop it. I don’t want to.

  I want to make this merry-go-round go faster.

  THIS LIBRARY IS A haven to me, my own ghost running down the aisles. A young, broken girl with big ambitions. I see myself inside every room, every nook and cranny, all the places I escaped to when I had nowhere else to go. Camilla, looking after me, taking care of me, loving me.

  My god, I miss her. Sometimes I forget just how much I miss her until I walk into this building and see her ghost alongside mine.

  “It’s creepy in here.” The deep voice behind me makes me jump, a high-pitched squeal escaping my throat. Immediately, I’m embarrassed. Really fucking embarrassed. I’ve never made a noise like that in my life—and I’ve been scared my entire life. “Sorry,” Mako whispers, an impish grin sliding across his gorgeous face.

  It’s nightfall, which means it’s dark in here. Our only light source is the moon shining through the windows and the soft light from my phone in my hand. Mako’s green eyes are shadowed, darkening his eyes to a deep moss green.

  My hand is on my chest, holding in my racing heart, as my wide eyes stayed locked on his. I can only imagine how I look to him right now.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, as if he read my mind. I hate when he does that. I hate that he knows what I’m thinking.

  That word—beautiful—sends ice down my back and fire in my veins all in one breath. Mako calling me beautiful is debilitating. I want to hate it and cherish it.

  “I hate that word,” I say back, straightening myself into a somewhat normal position a human being should be in.

  “Why?” he asks, his voice still low and quiet. Like if we talk any louder, we’ll be caught by the snarling librarian that demands silence at all times. I wish there was one here. Being bad with Mako sounds like so much fun.

  “I’ve heard it all my life from the wrong people,” I admit. A cold rage settles in his eyes, but he doesn’t unleash it. So calm and collected. So unlike his brother.

  “Does it feel better when you hear it coming from the right person?” he questions, his body still.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper. I take a small step towards him. Shortening the little bit of distance between us feels like inching your hand towards a tiger’s mouth. At any moment, it’s going to snap. “Say it again.”

  Mako doesn’
t react immediately. Instead, he roves his half-lidded eyes over me. The icy fire in his eyes slowly swirling into liquid heat. My heart kickstarts once again, racing nearly as hard as it did when he scared me. I hold my breath as my anticipation for one little word builds, electricity dancing through the air, setting the dust motes aflame.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says again. My breath releases and I close my eyes, relishing the word coming from his mouth. It sounds deliciously sinful when he says it. It sounds like something I can get used to. Only when it’s coming from his mouth with the low pitch of his deep voice.

  I keep my eyes closed, even as I confess, “I liked that.”

  A gasp nearly escapes when I feel his body press into mine, his front molding to my back. His warm breath stirs the fine hairs around my ears. His hand slides in my hair, setting fire to my skin. Goosebumps prickle my entire body, causing me to shiver in his hold. His fingers whisper across my flesh as he slowly brushes my hair to drape across my shoulder. Another shiver races down my spine from the tickling sensation he leaves in his wake.

  "Do you know what love looks like?" he asks softly. I close my eyes and release a deep sigh.

  "Yes," I whisper.

  "What does it look like?"

  "I've seen love in the eyes of a broken woman every time she had drugs in front of her. I've seen it in the eyes of a young boy when he took his first drink of alcohol to escape his shitty life. I've seen it in a grown man exploring the body of a little girl for the first time." I suck in a sharp breath. "I've seen that in many different eyes."

  A low growl rumbles from Mako's chest, the vibrations travelling across my back. I ignore it.

  "The face of love is everchanging, but yet it looks the same every time."

  "That's not the face of love, that's the art of escape," he answers lowly.

  I don’t respond. I don’t know how to.

  “Take me to the secret place,” he demands gently. Finally, I open my eyes.