A Circle of Crows

by Kelsey Kingsley

“I can’t hear you,” TJ finally said, dismissing his mother by shoving his earbuds deep into his ear canals, and I thanked the baby Christ for silence.

  Sitting beside me in jeans, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes, Rosie scrubbed her palms vigorously over her face and growled angrily. Her frustration with her son was evidently clear, and if it were up to me, I would’ve given the wee shite a lashing for repeatedly pushing her so far to her inevitable breaking point. But it wasn’t up to me.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head and dropping her hands to her lap. “I’m sorry he’s so difficult. I’m sorry he’s even here at all. And I know I shouldn’t play into it, I know I don’t help anything by fighting back, but it’s just so … so …” Her hands curled into tight fists, as she finished, “Infuriating.”

  “Dinnae worry about it,” I said, shrugging it off. “Doesnae bother me in the slightest.”

  She turned to glare at me, doubt heavy in her eyes. But when I offered no reaction, she sighed and uncurled her hands, settling more comfortably into her seat.

  “You don’t look old, by the way,” she replied, laughing. “Honestly, I would not have thought you were forty.”

  “It wouldnae bother me if ye did.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “This work will make ye old long before yer time. It’s the nature of it.”

  “I can understand that,” she said, nodding. “I can’t even imagine the things you’ve seen or had to deal with—”

  “No, ye can’t,” I interrupted in a harsher tone than intended, shutting her up instantly, and I rubbed my fingertips against my forehead while silently cursing myself for being such a prick. And right after she had defended me, nonetheless.

  Clearing her throat, she turned to the window and looked out with a blank stare. “Um, so—”

  “I’m an arsehole,” I said abruptly, glancing in her direction as we turned a corner onto Glaswell Street.

  “No, you’re not. You—”

  “No, but I am. It’s one reason why I’m divorced, and I’m fairly certain it’s the reason the other men in the office dinnae care for me much. I’m an egotistical, arrogant prick, and I havnae got much patience for insolence and stupidity. But that doesnae give me the right to be a bastard. Especially to those who dinnae deserve it. So, I apologize, and if ever in our time together ye find I’m steppin’ over the line, I want ye to say somethin’. All right?”

  Rosie squinted her eyes and shook her head. “I never thought you were—”

  “Just tell me ye will say somethin’.”

  She nodded slowly. “Okay. I will.”

  “Good,” I replied, satisfied, as I parked the car in front of The Whispering Crow.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ROSIE

  “First,” Alec said, as he collected his things from inside the car, “I’m goin’ into the inn and makin’ sure nobody else has entered that room since we were last here. Then, we’re surveyin’ the streets for any pubs with large front windows.”

  “Really?” TJ groaned. “It’s freakin’ Scotland. There are pubs everywhere.”

  “Aye,” Alec agreed. “Fifteen on these two streets alone, in fact.”

  “Oh, awesome. So, you’re saying it’s going to take forever. Cool.”

  “It probably would take forever, if every one of them had a large window in the front. But y’know what, laddie?”

  “What?”

  “I’ll bet ye not all of them do.”

  It was something else, to watch the two of them butt heads, and it was another thing entirely to find that Alec was just as quick as my son. He didn’t bow under the pressure of his insults and instead fired back with a speed I envied. I wished I could be more like that, and I wished his father was, too. Maybe we’d have better luck in keeping his attitude in check if we were.

  “Should we split up, then?” TJ asked, crossing his arms and regarding Alec with a little more respect than attitude.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Why not? We’ll cover more ground that way.”

  Alec lowered his brows, asserting his authority, and said, “I am not gonna let either of ye wander the streets alone when someone out there is followin’ ye. The last thing I need is for one of ye to end up dead.”

  TJ chuckled quietly and muttered, “Then, maybe you should go alone, then.”

  “You’re not being funny, TJ,” I scolded.

  “I’m not the one who has to worry, laddie,” Alec said. “I have years of trainin’ to protect me. What do you have?”

  The pissing contest between them was quickly growing old, and with an impatient sigh, I said, “It’s quicker for us to just drive around to the different pubs, anyway. It’ll eat through your gas, but it’s better than getting out and walking around in this.” I glanced out the window at the downpour, pummeling against the car roof.

  “Agreed,” Alec grunted, pulling out his umbrella. “Now, both of ye stay right here. Lock the doors. I’ll just be a moment.”

  He left, and I immediately locked the car doors. The heavy patter of raindrops overpowered the sound of his radio, and not wanting to hear the rain, I turned up the volume. I recognized the song, one sung by Dermot Kennedy, and realizing all at once how exhausted I really was, my eyelids drifted shut without my permission to enjoy the song.

  I let the lyrics take me away, the haunting melody and sultry voice, and I saw Gracie, looking just as she always had. Her smiling face looked out at me from far away, so alive and jubilant. Then, she began to gracefully move toward me, as if she were floating on air. Slowly, so slowly, she came closer, closer, closer, until her nose was nearly touching mine, and then I saw the greenish color of her skin. The cracks in her parched lips. The dry, thinning straw that was once her beautiful hair. Her smile was gone, replaced with a frozen expression of horror, and amidst the melody carried by Dermot Kennedy’s voice, I heard the sickening crack of Gracie’s jaw, as it pried itself open in a soundless scream.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  “What the fuck!” TJ exclaimed.

  With a choking gasp, my eyelids snapped open at the sound of something hitting against the car, and I turned my head this way and that. Then, I saw Alec, standing outside the driver’s door, soaked from the pouring rain. I smacked my hand against the button to unlock the car, and he climbed in hurriedly, slamming the door behind him.

  He didn’t immediately drive right away, as I had expected. Instead, he turned to me, eyes angry and nostrils flared, while the wet strands of his hair dripped from the downpour. Then, he said, “I was gone for all of three minutes. I told ye to be aware of yer surroundin’s. I told ye to watch yerself. And ye fuckin’ fell asleep.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping,” I weakly disputed, even as I continued to see the image of Gracie, now standing outside, just beside Alec’s window. Her jaw open and frozen in her silent scream.

  “Well, ye weren’t watchin’, were ye?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just—”

  “Don’t apologize to me, Rosie,” he replied flippantly. “It’s yer life on the line, and if ye willnae look out for yerself, then I dinnae ken what I can do for ye.”

  Sitting back, I stared blankly ahead at the crowded street and the raindrops collecting on the windshield. It was impossible to me that this man could be so sweet and sincere one second, and then, behave like a complete asshole in the next. That was why my marriage with Tom had ultimately met its demise, and now, I festered in the rage that yet another man had made me feel small, weak, and stupid. But who was he to me, other than the detective attempting to solve my sister’s murder? I didn’t have to take his crap; he had said so himself.

  So, I said, through gritted teeth, “You wanted me to let you know when you were out of line.”

  “Hm,” he grunted.

  “Well, here we are. I’m telling you,” I replied, glaring at him through the corner of my eye.

  With a sigh and a groan, he turned the key in the ignition and nodded. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just need ye to be alert,�
� he said, keeping his voice low and soft.

  “I get it,” I said, an indifferent chill to my tone. “It won’t happen again.”

  Then, as he turned onto the busy street, he continued, “So, there were three keys to the room. I have one, Grace had the other, and the third is missin’. The lass inside doesnae remember givin’ it to anybody else, and as she was sayin’ this, I got to thinkin’ about the two of ye out here alone. That was my mistake, one I never shouldae made, and I ran out to make sure ye were fine, but when I found ye …” His words trailed off and he shook his head. “I thought ye were dead.”

  He looked ahead, jaw clenched and knuckles white against the wheel, and I exhaled as the radio played. TJ had stuffed his earbuds back in, unfazed by Alec's upset, while it dawned on me that this man, who I had thought saw my son, sister, and me as nothing more than a job, might actually care. And there was an emotional investment that came with that realization, one I wasn't sure I wanted to take on and delve into right now. Especially not when I had spent my morning resisting the temptation of looking at him in all of his disheveled glory.

  “I'm sorry,” I said, whispering below Mumford & Sons and their rendition of Nine Inch Nails's “Hurt.”

  “Ye willnae leave my sight from now on. Not until this is over.”

  “Okay,” I conceded, nodding, and in silence, we drove along Glaswell Street, in search of pubs with picture windows.

  ***

  “I havenae seen her,” the burly pub owner answered without a glance at Grace's picture.

  “Come on, mate,” Alec said, holding it closer to the man's steely gaze.

  His grey eyes landed on me, then my son, before looking back to Alec. “Do ye ken how many lassies come in here? How do ye expect me to recognize one?”

  “Humor me,” Alec commanded, shoving the photo even closer, and then, the man took it from him with a huff and trained his eyes on my sister.

  “No,” he finally said, and I deflated.

  “Are ye certain?”

  “Aye,” the man replied, nodding, as his eyes took on a salacious expression. “I'd remember her. She's verra bonnie, she is, with a nice set of—”

  “I wasnae askin' for yer opinion,” Alec interrupted brashly, snatching the picture from the man's sausage fingers. “Thank ye for yer time.”

  With that, he tucked the photo back into his inside breast pocket and placed a hand on my shoulder, to steer me toward the door, as if I couldn't command my feet on my own. And he might have been right, after questioning our fifth publican. From our search for pubs with large, picture windows, we'd narrowed it down to nine of the fifteen, and after visiting five, my shoulders were sagging a little more and my hope was whittling down to something more closely resembling despair.

  Climbing into the car, Alec said, “Don’t feel discouraged just yet.”

  “I'm not,” I lied. “I'm just … tired. I'm tired of all of this, and I just want it to be over. I want to be able to sleep again.”

  And that part wasn’t a lie. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. My mind desperately needed to shut off and focus on nothing for a while. But there was no hope of that happening right now.

  Alec nodded, expressing his empathy. “I can take ye back to the house, when Rick—”

  “No,” I protested, with a harsh bite. “I'll sleep tonight when we're done with this. But I told you I'd help, so I'm helping,” I said, even though I felt like I wasn't doing much to help at all. But I wasn't the one with the badge or in a position of authority. Who would take me seriously? However, just being with him during the search, seemed like enough, and from the look on Alec's face, I guessed that it was.

  “All right, lass,” he resigned with a sigh, and then, grabbed his phone to check the list we had made. “Next up, is Jamie's,” and he drove to the next block, where he parked the car in front of a dingy looking place with a brick façade and a broken lantern hanging above the door.

  “It's not that one,” TJ said from the backseat.

  “No?” Alec peered out the window. “Why do ye say that?”

  “Because it looks like shit,” my son responded with a tinge of disgust. “She liked nice stuff, like … she had standards, you know? She wouldn’t have gone into a place like that, no matter how hot the guy was.”

  I thought about it for a moment, squinting to see through the window and into the pub. I tried to imagine my sister entering a place like that, to meet a man and sit at one of the rickety looking tables, and I couldn't place her there. It might not have looked so dismal in the darkness of night, and maybe it looked a little more welcoming with a few more people than just the stragglers sitting at the bar right now. But the type of man this place would attract was more than likely not her type, and I knew without a doubt that my son was right.

  “Let's try the next one,” I said to Alec.

  “But what if this is the one?” he countered. “Ye dinnae ken if she was here or not.”

  “Then, we can come back, but I just don't think this was it. I think TJ's right; Gracie would have taken one look at the broken bulb in that lantern and walked away.”

  “How do ye know for sure?”

  “Because I told you, she played it safe. She thought through her every freakin' move before she made it,” I explained. “She wouldn't even walk to her car in the driveway without bringing her pepper spray.”

  Alec sighed, as if he didn't quite trust my knowledge of my own sister's habits, but he looked back to the list with resignation, and said, “Then, I guess we're headin' to the next one down.”

  He turned the car onto Devonshire Road, past the inn Gracie called home for a week and a half, and drove for a minute or two, before we came upon a pub with strings of fairy lights draped between the lamp posts and the stone front of the building. It was quaint and appealing, with a large bay window and a clear view of a round, glossy tabletop. Intuitive bells began to ring loudly in my mind, as I imagined Gracie walking down this street. I could see her stopping at that window. I could imagine a man, gorgeous and tempting, sitting at that table, and luring her inside.

  “I have a feeling about this one,” I said, nodding as I turned from my view of the building to look at Alec’s skeptical expression. “This is it.”

  “Well, let's find out if yer right,” he replied, and the three of us climbed out of the car and approached The Lazy Crow.

  Opening the door, I was engulfed by the sound of lively music and the scent of wood, leather, and cloves. A few patrons turned to eye us with curiosity and friendly glances, as we walked across the dark oak floor and to the bar, where a man in a neat button-down and vest greeted us with a smile.

  “Good day to ye,” he said, with a nod of his bearded chin. “Can I get ye somethin'?”

  “Ah, no. Not today,” Alec replied, pulling his badge from his trouser pocket. “But if ye could answer a few questions for me, I'd greatly appreciate it.”

  The bartender carefully eyed his badge, then nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, sir; whatever ye need.”

  “Wonderful. First, can ye tell me if ye've seen this woman?”

  The despair I had felt was steadily building to hope, dashed with a heaping dose of dread, as Alec pulled the picture of Gracie from his jacket and laid it on the bar. The man took a quick glance at it, as I stood back with TJ and picked aggressively at my cuticles, and when he nodded, my heart swooped before diving violently into the pit of my nauseated gut.

  “Aye,” he answered, continuing to nod. “Not long ago, she was in here.”

  “Ye're certain of this?”

  “Verra certain. She sat right there,” the bartender said, pointing to the table in front of the bay window, “with my brother, James.”

  In an urgent rush, I hurried forward, pushing Alec aside, as I asked, “Does he have green eyes?”

  “He does,” he answered, his voice gruff and choked. “Now, I have to ask, is there a problem?”

  “When did ye last see yer brother?” Alec asked
, ignoring his question.

  “This mornin',” the man replied, and his eyes held a tormenting amount of fear and trepidation. “We live together, in a wee house on Brewster's Path.”

  “Where would he be now?”

  The man scratched the back of his head, his gaze wide and his mouth open. “He-he'd be at his job. He's a chef at Shavon's. But can I ask, is he … is he in trouble? D-did somethin' happen to the lass?”

  Ignoring every one of his questions, Alec pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket and scribbled for a moment. I studied the worry on the man's face and saw the sudden distress that had swallowed his confidence. I knew that look. I knew that feeling that was gnawing away at his guts and his heart, the fear that something had happened, that something was happening right now to his brother, someone he loved unconditionally beyond all reason. And while I had wanted to feel sympathy for him, all I felt was a surge of controlling rage, as I stepped closer to the bar and looked up into his face with sneering hatred.

  “Do you know what happened to my sister?”

  “W-what?” he stammered, looking at me with shock and pale-faced horror.

  “Do you know something you're not telling us?”

  He shook his head, raising both hands in surrender. “I swear to ye, lass; I know nothin'.”

  “But someone knows something!” I shouted, slapping my hand against the bar, and I felt TJ's hand grip my arm.

  “Mom, come on, he doesn't know anything.”

  “Dammit!” I exclaimed, and with a heated huff, I wrenched my arm away from his grasp and turned from the bar to cover my mouth with a hand and slammed my eyes shut.

  “Can I please have yer name?” Alec asked.

  “Roland,” the man answered without hesitation. “Roland Eddington. Is she all right?”

  “She’s just concerned about findin’ whoever killed her sister,” Alec answered, before I heard his pen, as it worked against the paper with fervor.

  “Killed? The lass is dead?”

  “She is,” Alec replied, then said, “All right, Mr. Eddington. Thank ye verra much for yer cooperation. I'll assume I can count on ye, if ye're needed for further questionin'.”