The Cliff-Top Killer (The Sydney Harbour Hospital Series Book 8)

by Chris Taylor

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  Hating that he’d lied to her, he got up and came around to where she stood and put his arms around her. Pulling her close, he kissed her on the cheek. “I won’t be long.”

  “Hey, stay as long as you like. If it’s been that long since you’ve seen him, I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”

  “That’s true. And thanks, I’ll bring back some of that vanilla bean and wattleseed ice cream you like. We can eat it after dinner.”

  She pressed a kiss on his lips. “You’re so sweet. That sounds great. Have fun.”

  Samuel kept his smile firmly in place. Fun was the last thing this meeting was going to be.

  * * *

  When Samuel headed for the shower, Shelby made a beeline for his phone. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but there was something strange going on. The whole time he’d been talking to her about his so-called long lost friend, he hadn’t once looked her in the eye. It felt weird and was so unlike him, she couldn’t help feeling he wasn’t telling her the truth.

  Scrolling through his text messages, she came to the most recent ones. They had been sent from an unknown number. She read the message and frowned. It read like it was coming from someone a whole lot closer than an old friend: I love you.

  What was that about? Weird, definitely weird.

  She scrolled down further and discovered they were meeting outside the Bondi Surf Club. It wasn’t the kind of place you went for a drink. This was getting stranger and stranger.

  Why would Samuel say he was meeting a college friend for a drink when it was clear that a) they were way closer than friends and b) they weren’t going to the Bondi Surf Club for a drink? It didn’t make sense.

  With a growing feeling of dread, she thought about what could be going on. Who was Samuel meeting and why? She was certain he wasn’t telling her the truth. That begged the question: Why would he lie? She was determined to find out. She’d had enough of lies and deception to last her a lifetime. She wasn’t going to stand for it in the man who might one day be her husband. With her mind made up, she set the phone back down where he’d left it and hurried from the room.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Paul stood across the street from the surf club and tried to find the courage to walk forward. Despite his swim in the cool, clear water, sweat ran down his face. As his desperation reached fever pitch, he could barely refrain from screaming. He needed to get high and he needed it fast. If he didn’t get high, he’d die.

  The thought sobered him. What the fuck was he doing? The way he was feeling, if Sam didn’t come through with some money, he’d march right into the convenience store and hold up the cashier with a knife. He kept one handy, tucked into the waistband of his shorts. He never knew when he might need it; when he might be forced to defend himself against other lowlifes.

  And that’s what he was. A lowlife. A no-good, loser drug addict who was throwing away his life. Just like his parents had said. Just like Sam had said.

  Sam. His hero. The only person Paul looked up to. Sam would know how to help him. He was a doctor. All Paul had to do was ask for it. Could he do it? Could he try again to get clean? He’d tried so many times before and had failed. What if this time was more of the same?

  He stared down at his bare feet, still stained with ingrained dirt. The truth was, he’d never really tried to get better. He’d never wanted to get clean before. He liked being high. He liked the feeling of being on top of the world, where nothing mattered and life was good. It was when he was sober that things got tough; that he’d be jolted back into reality. That was the hard part. Getting high and staying that way was easy. But he was now twenty-seven. Way old enough to know better, to want more than a quick fix.

  His family wanted to help him. He knew they did. His parents might be committed to their careers, but underneath, they did still love their kids. And Sam. He loved him most of all.

  Paul thought about the things he’d said to him the last time they’d been together. He’d asked for money, of course, and when Sam refused, things had turned ugly. Paul had spoken ugly words of bitterness and hate, but it was Paul the drug addict who’d spoken. Jim Bob had curled up in horror inside, cringing.

  Was it too late to make amends? Was it too much to ask Sam to forgive him, to help him one more time? He didn’t know, but as he focused on the surf club building across from him and saw the familiar outline of his brother, he knew he was about to find out.

  * * *

  Samuel checked his watch and cursed under his breath. He’d arrived at the Bondi Surf Club at the appointed time, but Paul wasn’t there. His brother had sounded so genuine in his text, like he really wanted to see him, but so far, he was nowhere to be seen.

  Had he made the trip down for nothing? One thing he was glad of was that he hadn’t said anything to Shelby about it. The thought of having to tell her his brother had stood him up after begging Samuel to meet made him squirm with embarrassment.

  “Sam! You came!”

  Samuel spun on his heel. He hadn’t heard anyone approach. A moment later, Paul threw his arms around him and hugged him hard. Samuel didn’t bother suppressing his smile. No matter what choices Paul had made and what rocky roads he’d traveled, he was still Samuel’s kid brother and always would be.

  “Jim Bob!” he said, deliberately using the endearing nickname from their youth. “How are you, mate?”

  Paul grinned. His teeth were stained yellow and showed clear signs of neglect. Samuel wondered how long it had been since he’d used a toothbrush. His hair was damp, like he’d recently showered, but that didn’t compute with the filth and ingrained dirt that stained his clothes. Samuel guessed his brother had shucked down to his underwear and gone for a swim. His brother’s next words confirmed it.

  “The water’s good. You been in today?”

  Samuel shook his head. “No, I’ve been at work since midnight. I got home and went to bed. I not long got up.”

  Paul chuckled. “Sleep when you’re dead, Sam. That’s what they say.”

  Samuel nodded and examined his brother closely. His longish, light-brown hair hung in thick ropes around his face, stiff with salt and grime. Stubble covered his cheeks. His eyes were as blue as ever, but there was a restlessness in them. Every time Samuel made eye contact, his brother looked away.

  “How have you been, Jim Bob?” Samuel asked quietly.

  The laughter disappeared from Paul’s eyes. His expression sobered. “You know, big brother. I’ve been all right.”

  “Where are you living these days?”

  Paul looked away and shrugged. “Here and there. The weather’s good for outdoor living this time of year.”

  His attempt at a smile failed. Samuel’s chest tightened. He hated the fact his brother had come to this. It was so unnecessary. He had a family, people who loved him. Okay, his parents might have been a little remiss in their duties, but they were good people who’d tried their best to help. They’d been just as devastated as Samuel to discover Paul had gotten into drugs.

  “You can always go home, Jim Bob,” Samuel said.

  Paul looked at him. Tears glinted in his eyes. The sight of them broke Samuel’s heart.

  “How can I go home like this?” Paul asked him. “Look at me! I’m an addict. I’ve got no fixed place of abode. I hang out with other addicts, losers with nothing more to look forward to than their next hit. I’m one of them, Sam. How can I go home?”

  Samuel stepped forward and grasped his brother by the arms. “Listen to me, Jim Bob. Mom and Dad love you. You’re their son. There’s always a place at home. You’ll have to go back to rehab, get yourself cleaned up—but, hell, do you really want to keep living like this? You’re not even thirty. You have your whole life ahead of you! And you’re wasting it.”

  He gave his brother a little shake. His voice increased in volume, reflecting his frustration. “Don’t you get it? There’s no second chances here. You can’t turn around in your forties and adm
it you fucked up and could I please have my twenties back? It doesn’t work that way. You need to make every day count like it was your last. By God, one of these days it will be.”

  The tears flowed freely down his brother’s cheeks. Samuel’s heart clenched. He hated to see Paul in such a state, but this called for some tough love.

  “You’re right, Sam, of course you’re right. But I don’t know what to do! I’m hot and cold and shaky, my heart’s pounding, screaming for another hit. My brain keeps telling me that as long as I find some gear and get it into my veins, everything’ll be all right. I can’t fight it, Sam, even if I wanted to. I just can’t.”

  Samuel pushed at his brother again, this time a little more forcefully. “Bullshit. Don’t try that shit on me. You can fight it if you want to. You’ve been to rehab. You know there are trained professionals ready and willing to help. It’s just that you don’t want their help. You don’t want to get clean. Don’t tell me you’re not strong enough. I won’t buy it.”

  Samuel’s breath came fast. He took a step away from his brother and did his best to get his temper under control. He hadn’t meant to lay it all on Paul like that, but the guy had read him all wrong. The truth was, his brother had come here expecting sympathy and Samuel was all out.

  He didn’t regret his outburst. It was time the gloves were taken off. His parents had tried the soft and loving approach. It had gotten them nowhere. Samuel didn’t pretend to have all the answers, but he was desperate to try something, anything that might break through his brother’s haze of drugs and addiction and resonate deep inside.

  He looked over at Paul. His brother was bent over at the waist and was wheezing like he’d run the fifteen-hundred meters at a sprint. Tears continued to run down his cheeks. With a sigh of resignation, Samuel closed the distance.

  He touched his brother on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jim Bob. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

  Paul came upright slowly and lifted his tear-stained face up to Samuel’s. The desolation in their blue depths broke Samuel’s heart.

  “No, mate, you had every right to talk to me like that,” Paul choked. “I’m an asshole, a loser. I’m fucking up my life. I don’t even know why.” He looked down at himself. “I hate living like this, like a loser who has nobody that cares.” He swiped at his nose with the back of his hand and drew in a shaky breath. “I came here to ask you for money, but what I really need is your help. Help me, Sammie. Please, help me.”

  Paul’s sobs overwhelmed him. Without a moment’s hesitation, Samuel drew him into his arms. Holding his brother tightly, he murmured words of comfort against Paul’s ear. The smell that emanated from his brother’s body almost made Samuel gag, but he tightened his hold and ignored it, hoping that in some way he could imbue his brother with the strength he needed to face what was to come.

  It was a long while later that Paul pulled slightly away. Samuel stared at him. “I want to help you, Jim Bob. We all do. But you have to let us and you have to want to help yourself. We can’t do it on our own. You have to want this as much as us. More, even. Do you understand?”

  Paul nodded. Once again, his eyes glinted with tears. “Yes, Sammie. I understand. And thank you for giving me another chance.”

  Samuel smiled. “Hey, this is just the beginning. There are a lot of tough times ahead. You’re going to hate me, I’m sure, long before you thank me again.”

  Paul grinned back at him and for a moment, Samuel caught a glimpse of the boy his brother used to be. His chest tightened with emotion. He’d do everything in his power to bring that boy back. Failure was no longer an option.

  Finding his soul mate in Shelby only brought home to him how important love and family were. He wanted his brother to experience the same emotion, the same sense of belonging, the same security, the same contentment and Paul would never get there on his own.

  Pulling his brother close for another hug, Samuel pressed a kiss to his brother’s cheek. He’d bring Paul back from the brink if it killed him.

  * * *

  Shelby blinked in shock. She stood far enough away from Samuel and his companion that she couldn’t hear what was being said, but she had a clear vision of what they did. The first time Samuel stepped forward and hugged the man, she’d been a little taken aback. The hug went on for a very long time. Finally, Samuel had stepped back and the two of them had continued their discussion. A short time later, they were hugging again and this time, Samuel leaned over and kissed him. Okay, it wasn’t on the mouth, but even from a distance she could detect a level of tenderness. It was obvious Samuel cared for this man, this friend from college.

  All of a sudden, Shelby gasped. Ian Broderick had told her Samuel was gay and that it had started while they were at college. She’d believed Samuel when he denied the allegations and she’d never questioned his sexuality when they made love, but what if she was wrong? What if his desire to get married was all an elaborate façade, the same way it had been for her father? All for appearances…

  She’d been oblivious to the truth about her father’s sexuality for nearly three decades and she’d spent more than two of those decades living under the same roof. She barely knew Samuel. They’d known each other for less than two months.

  When she’d confronted him about Ian’s allegations, she’d taken his denial at face value, accepting his word. But how did she know for sure he was telling the truth? The fact that he had a reputation for being a womanizer and that they’d made love didn’t count. After all, her daddy managed to father nine children. Having sex with a woman didn’t automatically cancel the gay issue out.

  Unconsciously, she made a sound of distress in the back of her throat and immediately pushed her fist against her mouth. She was sure they couldn’t hear her against the rush of the ocean and she was well concealed against the wall of the Surf Club, but still, she didn’t want to be caught spying. It was going to be hard enough to come to terms with what she’d seen and decide what she was going to do about it without Samuel discovering her presence. Besides, she’d seen enough.

  Retreating slowly back the way she’d come, Shelby headed to Samuel’s condo. Though it was the last place she wanted to be, she didn’t want to raise his suspicions. He’d expect her to be there when he returned. Until she knew how she was going to handle this, she’d pretend nothing was amiss. It would take all of her acting skills, but she was determined to pull it off.

  * * *

  Alexei poured himself another glass of whisky from the supply he kept in his den. His hand shook slightly as he brought the glass to his lips. His last conversation with Shelby had been going around and around in his head and the more he thought about what she’d told him, the more agitated he became.

  He’d taken the time to search the Internet for stories on the recent gay killings. The media were calling the perpetrator the Cliff-top Killer. It hadn’t surprised him to discover Shelby had told the truth. A Melbourne Storm football cap, a gold and onyx ring and a Sydney Kings basketball jersey had been missing at the crime scenes. One personal item had been taken from each victim. The police were calling them trophies. The killer stole something from his victims and kept it, probably reliving the thrill of the murder every time he looked at it.

  It was sickening and he refused to contemplate for even a second that his former lover might have something to do with it. For all his faults and failings, Rodriguez was a lover, not a fighter. His talk of killing himself and Alexei was just that—talk. Alexei would bet his life on it. But what was with the unsettling gifts? Did he really think they were a way to win Alexei back? The truth was, they filled him with dread.

  Was Rodriguez spiteful enough to buy him the very same gifts that had been stolen from the victims of the Cliff-top Killer, knowing the murders had taken place in his neighborhood? And if so, why? What did he hope to gain?

  Alexei had left a message for his ex-lover and was waiting to hear from him. He hoped the man would call back soon. This not knowing what was going on
was creeping him out. Moving restlessly, he paced beside the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. A small, red package wedged between two books caught his eye. Walking over to it, he set down his glass and pulled the box out.

  The bright gift wrapping glinted in the light. A white-and-red ribbon was tied around the box. Curious, Alexei tugged on the end and the ribbon slipped from its hold. Sliding his finger beneath the paper, he tore it off and opened the box. He gasped.

  Nestled inside among silver tissue paper was an exquisite, handmade chocolate heart. The swirls and flurries were intricate and formed two perfect letters in the center: A. & R. Alexei and Rodriguez. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

  The sound of footsteps in the stairwell arrested his attention. Hurriedly, he shoved the lid on and put the box back where he’d found it and picked up his glass. His gaze darted around the room. It was clean and tidy, with all evidence of his extracurricular activities carefully hidden away. Belatedly, he noticed the bed had been made with fresh sheets. His wife must have been down earlier.

  The thought had only just registered when she appeared around the corner. He set his drink down on the dresser and swallowed to alleviate his nerves.

  “Helen! What are you doing down here? I thought you’d gone to bed.”

  “I never go to bed before nine.” Her lips twisted. “After thirty-two years of marriage, you should know that.”

  He nodded in acknowledgement and then picked up his drink. She eyed it distastefully. “Would you like one?” he asked.

  She snorted. “When have I ever drunk with you, Alexei?”

  “We shared a glass of champagne at our wedding,” he ventured.

  There was a wild, unfocused look in her eyes that made him nervous. He hurriedly took a mouthful of whisky. The alcohol burned a pleasant path down his throat and he breathed a quiet sigh. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with his wife. She looked a little on edge.