Haunted Page 10

  “I'm just doing my job.”

  “And you're doing it with aplomb.” He turns to me. “Is that the right word? Aplomb. Sounds kinda French.”

  “I think I understand what you're trying to say.”

  “I hope so. I really do.” He hesitates, keeping his eyes fixed on me, and then a slow smile starts to break across his face. “I've got faith in you, my friend. But make sure you head home soon, okay? You're more use to the town if you can think straight. And then tomorrow we can start wrapping this whole thing up, and then we can tell everyone that the bastard who killed Mo Garvey is dead. I think people are gonna be very relieved to hear that. Very relieved indeed. But of course, the ball's in your court. I wouldn't dream of stealing your thunder, or your glory. It's gonna be your big day, buddy.”

  As he leaves, I'm left standing next to the filing cabinet, trying to figure out what, exactly, was the purpose of that visit. Everyone seems so keen to wrap the investigation up and to believe that Mo's murderer fell into our laps like this, but I can't shake a niggling sense of doubt. Turning, I look out the window and see lights in the distance, and I know that Harry and a couple of other deputies are still at the scene of the accident that killed the drifter. I just wish I could share everyone else's confidence that we've got the right guy, and that the town is safe again, but I can't.

  And I'm sure as hell not going to be part of some cover-up.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alex Roberts

  Today

  I can do this. I'm not going to let some anonymous asshole stop me walking down the street in my own hometown. I can do this.

  Still, standing in the hallway, watching the sun-drenched street outside, I can't quite bring myself to open the door and step out into the world. I'm wearing sunglasses, although after a moment I take them off as I realize that maybe people will think I'm trying to hide. Then I put them on, figuring I need them such a bright day, then I take them off and then finally I put them on again. And then I sigh as I realize how utterly helpless I feel.

  “You can do this,” I whisper, trying to find some courage deep down. I take the sunglasses off. “Come on, Alex. You're not a wimp. If there are asshole cowards out there, you have to face them down.”

  I pause for a moment, and then – realizing that it's now or never – I open the door and step outside. The sunlight is so strong, I set my sunglasses back on before swinging the door shut. By the time I've reached the mailbox, I feel a little dizzy, so I stop and pretend to be looking through the mail. To my surprise, I find a handwritten note with my name on the front.

  Opening the note, I find a letter inside.

  “Dear Alex,” I read, “you probably don't remember me but I want to talk to you about your father. He was -”

  Scrunching the letter up, I throw it into the trash, along with the envelope. The last thing I need is to deal with another asshole who wants to remind me of my father's sins. I have errands to run in town, and I'm damn well going to run them.

  Normal life starts here.

  ***

  “Alex Roberts? Alex, is that you? Can I grab a quick word?”

  As I make my way along the street, I glance over my shoulder and see that a middle-aged woman is hurrying after me. I'm sure I recognize her from somewhere, although that doesn't make sense until I spot a poster attached to a nearby lamppost, at which point I realize that this woman has been serving as Railham's mayor for the past few years and is currently in the middle of a campaign to get reelected.

  Great. A politician.

  “You don't know me,” she says breathlessly, “but my name is -”

  “Gloria Stevens?”

  She opens her mouth to reply, before turning and looking at the nearest poster.

  “Right,” she continues, as we shake hands. “Well, I guess word travels fast. I won't insult you by asking whether I can count on your vote, but, well... I do hope you'll read my campaign literature and try to see my vision for the town's future.”

  “I'll be sure to take a look,” I reply, unable to help noticing that a couple of people passing on the other side of the street are looking this way. I guess I should have just accepted that on my first trip into town, I'd be something of a talking point. Taking my sunglasses off, I force a smile.

  “So are you enjoying yourself here in Railham?” Gloria asks, as we start walking together along the street. “Is it good to be back?”

  “To be honest, I'm still settling in. Everything seems great so far.”

  “That's wonderful. And is the house okay?”

  “The house is fine.”

  “I've got to admit,” she continues, “I was a little surprised when I learned that you'd be moving back to your old family home. Please don't take this the wrong way, but I would've thought that the house would be the last place you'd ever want to go. I mean, I wouldn't go back, not if... Well, I'm sure you know what I mean.”

  “It's just a house,” I reply. Realizing that maybe I haven't explained properly, I try to figure out a better way to put my thoughts. “I spent so much time trying to run from my past,” I add finally, “that eventually I decided that maybe I should run to it instead. I don't know, it's a work in progress, but so far I feel as if a weight has been lifted.”

  “And it's not bringing back any bad memories about your father?”

  I flinch as soon as he's mentioned.

  “I'm sorry,” she continues, “I didn't mean to tread on your toes.”

  “No, it's fine. My father was who he was, and I can't deny that. I guess I'm just hoping that people will see me for who I am, not for where I come from. As for memories, I'm hoping to remember the good times and leave the bad in the past.”

  “It's just that your father isn't exactly a very popular figure around here,” she explains. “People have long memories, and the name Michael Blaine tends to remind them of a time when Railham... Well, a time when our happy, friendly little town seemed to be briefly teetering on the edge of an abyss. I myself remember those days, and your father was a highly respected man until...”

  Her voice trails off.

  “Until he lost his mind and started killing people?” I suggest.

  “Well, I -”

  “It's the truth,” I continue, feeling a shudder pass through my chest. “I don't particularly enjoy talking about him. He was a monster. At the same time, I have to acknowledge who I am and where I came from. That's part of why I returned to Railham. I want a normal life, and I can't have that if I'm simultaneously running from my past.”

  “That's a very admirable way of looking at things.”

  “I don't see any other way,” I reply. “At least, not any other healthy way.”

  “I understand that you don't remember so much of what happened on that awful night.”

  “That's correct.”

  “It must be -”

  “And I'd like to keep it that way,” I add, stopping and turning to her. “I've very deliberately kept from rooting through those particular memories. I know enough to understand that my father, Michael Blaine, is a hated man in this town. I know enough to be glad that he's dead, and to share everyone else's relief that he died before he was able to hurt more people. But if you want me to apologize for his actions, then I think I'm going to have to disappoint you. He was the monster, not me. I can remember my old life without remembering him. That's the plan, anyway.”

  She places a hand on my arm, and suddenly I realize that there are tears in her eyes. Before I can ask if she's okay, she steps closer and puts her arms around me, giving me an unexpected and very tight hug.

  “Good for you!” she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion as we stand on the street corner. “I was worried you'd be a nervous wreck, but instead you're clearly a strong, independent woman with a sense of her own identity. I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for you to grow up in the shadow of that wretched man, to live every day of your life knowing that you're his daughter, but it seems as if you've fou
nd a way to push past that.”

  “I'm -”

  Before I can finish, I spot a woman walking past on the other side of the street, and as we briefly make eye contact I can't help but notice the disgust in her eyes. I've never seen her before in my life, but it's not difficult to figure out that she knows who I am and that she hates me because of my father. For the first time, I'm starting to realize that no matter what happens to my memories, I can't control what other people remember.

  “I'm so glad I ran into you today,” Mayor Stevens says as she releases me from the hug and takes a step back, drying her eyes at the same time. “The door to my office is always open. Always. If there's ever anything you need, you mustn't hesitate to come and see me.”

  “Thank you,” I reply, “but I'm sure I'll be fine. I just want to settle in and live a quiet life. No special treatment.”

  “Of course!” She pats me on the arm, before stepping around me. “We'll talk again soon. Have fun now!”

  Once she's gone, I take a moment to regather my composure and then I start making my way toward the hardware store. I'd really rather avoid any more awkward conversations about my father today, although it's good to know that at least there are some people who aren't going to judge me according to my his actions. As I reach the hardware store, however, a man hurries to the other side of the door and quickly turns the sign so that it reads 'Closed', and as he glares out at me I can't help realizing that he seems very keen for me to leave.

  I step back. A moment later a man walks up the steps and enters the store, but I guess there's one rule for the locals and another rule for the likes of me.

  Maybe Diane Milford was right about one thing. Maybe people here do see me as a ghost. Maybe they see me as my father's ghost, and they feel like he's haunting the town through me. If that's the case, maybe the dirty looks will never stop. Maybe coming back to Railham was a mistake after all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sheriff Michael Blaine

  20 years ago

  “Are you sure you're okay to drive?” Louisa asks over the phone. “You sound exhausted.”

  “I'm fine to drive,” I reply, keeping my eyes on the road ahead, “but I should get off this thing. If I saw someone else talking on the phone while he was driving, I'd pull him over and give him a ticket. I'll be back in twenty, okay?”

  “It's almost 6am.”

  “It's been a long night.”

  “But are you sure you've got the guy?” she continues, with a hint of concern in her voice. “I mean, are you really sure? Is it really all over?”

  “The signs are pointing that way,” I reply, even though the words leave a sour taste in my mouth, “but I'll explain when I get home. It's complicated.”

  “We're safe, though, aren't we? Alex and the other children are safe now.”

  “I'm not -”

  “Please, Mike. Tell me they're safe.”

  “They're safe,” I hear myself saying, and I instantly know that I can't backtrack now. “I think so.”

  “Thank God,” she replies with a heavy, relieved sigh.

  “But don't talk to anyone about this,” I continue. “Not yet. I don't want word to get out until I'm sure, and that might still take a couple of days.” I pause, still watching the road, before realizing that I just need to get home. “I'll be back soon,” I continue, “and I love you. I love both of you. Everything's going to be...”

  My voice trails off for a moment.

  “Everything's going to be okay in the end,” I add finally. That, at least, is something I can believe. “I promise.”

  Once I've ended the call, I sit up a little straighter and try to focus on simply staying awake. If I saw anybody else driving in this condition, I really would pull them over and tell them that enough's enough, but I know I'll be fine. I'm a good driver and I can handle a little tiredness, and it's not like there'll be much other traffic on the road at this time in the morning. Adjusting my grip on the wheel, I tell myself that maybe when I reach home I should get some sleep, if only for a couple of -

  Suddenly I spot two of cars ahead, parked across the road.

  Letting out a gasp, I slam my foot on the brake and bring the car screeching to a halt sideways on, and my heart is already pounding as my headlights pick out the sight of Mayor Lenny Johnson with half a dozen other men standing a little further back. They seem to have formed some kind of roadblock, and I hesitate for a moment before Lenny gestures for me to get out of the car. I watch, too shocked to react, but then he makes the same gesture again, this time with a faint smile.

  Finally, switching off the engine, I open the door and step out into the cold night air.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I ask as I step toward them. “I could've hit you!”

  “Yeah,” Lenny replies with a chuckle. “Two bad wrecks in one night. That would've been a hell of a coincidence, wouldn't it?” He shakes his head. “Relax, Mikey. I know you're a good driver. There was no way you wouldn't have seen us in time.”

  I open my mouth to reply, but then I see that Doctor Tom Milford is one of the other men gathered out here. Matt Beamish is present too, along with David Trelawney and the odious sight of Neil Bloom, who I've always had down as one of the town's seedier characters. For some reason, Lenny seems to have brought together a small group of disreputable figures. Frankly, after his comments yesterday about 'higher powers', I'm not even 100% certain I can trust Tom Milford anymore.

  “What is this?” I ask cautiously, as I start to realize that this little gathering seems to be for my benefit. “What do you want?”

  “Want?” Lenny replies, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Who said anything about -”

  He stops suddenly, and then he sighs.

  “Oh hell, Michael,” he continues, stepping closer, “I had this whole rigmarole worked out, but I think I'm gonna level with you and be straight. I respect you too much to play games.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “I just felt that we needed a little follow-up to our earlier conversation, to make sure we're on the same page. And I wanted to do it out here, away from anyone who might start poking their noses into our business. Man to man. You can understand that, can't you?”

  Looking past him, I see the fear in Doctor Milford's eyes, although he quickly looks away as if he realizes that I can read his expression. He's hiding something.

  “The Mo Garvey case is solved,” Lenny says firmly. “I know you've gotta do what you've gotta do, but Doc Milford's report makes it very clear that the drifter killed the kid.”

  “Doctor Milford's report isn't ready yet,” I point out.

  “That's funny, 'cause I've already read it,” he replies. “You'll get your copy in the morning, but the DNA analysis proves that the fabric in the drifter's pocket belonged to Mo.”

  “There's no way the full test results are back yet,” I point out, looking over at Tom Milford again and seeing that he still seems unable to meet my gaze. “It'd take a day or two at least, and that's with a rush.”

  “You're overthinking this,” Lenny replies. “The case is solved. I know there are some bows to be tied, and there's some paperwork to complete, but the case is basically done and dusted. Now, you might have some questions still, and I respect that. You're a smart man, Michael, and I feel like I can't and I shouldn't try to pull the wool over your eyes.”

  He puts an arm around my shoulder and starts leading me away from the others.

  “I want you to know,” he continues, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “that while you're doing all that paperwork, certain other matters will be taken care of in a more discreet manner.”

  “What other matters?” I ask.

  “I don't really want to spell it out for you.”

  “I think maybe you're gonna have to.”

  He sighs. “I'm going to deal with things, okay? And I promise you, hand on heart, that nothing like the Mo Garvey killing will ever, ever happen around here again. The person responsible will be dealt with,
but it'll happen behind the scenes and in a manner that doesn't cause too much excitement in town.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. “I thought you believed the drifter was...”

  My voice trails off as I start to understand his inference, and after a moment I look over my shoulder. Doctor Milford and Matt Beamish and David Trelawney are watching me with stony faces, but then I see that Neil Bloom looks much more agitated, almost as if he's on the verge of tears. He lacks the composure of the others, and I swear I've never seen a more guilty-looking man in my whole life. He even seems to be muttering something under his breath as he keeps his eyes fixed on me.

  “Did he kill Mo Garvey?” I ask, shocked as I turn to Lenny. “Did Neil Bloom -”

  “Don't worry about that.”

  “What the hell do you mean, don't worry about it?” I snap, pulling away from him. “I'm not helping you cover the truth up!”

  “The truth isn't being covered up,” he replies, “it's just being dealt with in a different manner.” He sighs again. “Neil Bloom is a close personal friend and a business partner. He's a good guy, but he has a problem. Now, he's managed to keep that problem scrunched up inside all his life, but unfortunately he had a slip the other day and, well, the situation with Mo Garvey was the sad outcome. I'm not pretending for one moment that this isn't an awful situation, Mikey. Nobody's denying that it's wrong. I just think that we need to handle things in a way that doesn't excite tensions in our beautiful, peaceful little town. In a way that doesn't undermine the population's faith in humanity.”

  “You're kidding, right?” I continue. “Lenny, tell me this is some kind of sick joke.”

  “We handle things in our own way here in Railham, Michael,” he replies. “We always have and we always will. Neil's one of us. We're going to deal with this in-house, so to speak.”

  Staring at him, I realize he's serious. After a moment I turn and look toward Neil, and I swear to God I want to march right over there, arrest that son of a bitch and take him to the station for questioning. Even as I look at him, he takes a step back, like a snake trying to slither to safety. The sight of him makes me sick.