Third to Die (13 page)

“This rain sure is terrible,” a handsome man with sky-blue eyes commented. He was standing next to Brandy and was a good foot taller than her. His cheeks were covered in a dense spread of stubble and he was so close that she could smell his cologne.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad today,” Brandy politely agreed.

“That’s quite an accent you’ve got there,” the man noted, his eyes crinkling slightly as his mouth lifted into the beginning of a smile.

“Thanks.” Brandy blushed.

“Where you from?” the man angled himself within the packed bus to be facing Brandy instead of partly having his back to her. He was smartly dressed in a suit with shiny black shoes which seemed strangely juxtaposed against his unshaven cheeks.

“The South,” Brandy replied vaguely. She never bothered to cite Avalon as her origins as either no one had heard of it, or if they had it was only through the scandalous connections to her own story; thus revealing her identity and shameful past.

“I thought so,” the man nodded. “You’ve got a beautiful accent.”

“Thank you.”

“But you live in the city?” There was some hope attached to the question.

“Yeah, I moved up here a few months back.”

“What do you make of it here?” his blue eyes sparkled with interest.

“I like it,” Brandy smiled sincerely. “There’s still a lot to get used to, but so far I like it.”

“Chicago is a great city,” the man’s smile broadened, revealing dimples in his cheeks. He was handsome in a surprising way; like a rustic pretty boy. Brandy could feel her pulse quickening slightly in his presence. Chatting to someone so handsome always brought out the nervous teenage girl in her. She felt like she’d forever be that girl from the trailer, shocked that someone handsome would even notice her.

The bus stopped abruptly at a red light and everyone inside surged backwards. Brandy connected directly with the handsome man’s chest. It was broad and strong and he didn’t even flinch as she fell against him.

“I’m so, so sorry!” Brandy turned crimson as she tried to find her centre of gravity once more and stand up straight.

“It’s okay.” The handsome man placed his hands on her arms and guided her to her feet. For a moment his touch felt welcome and sent shoots of electricity running through her body. Then something darker surfaced.

In her mind’s eye she saw Brandon’s handsome face twisted with intent. He reached for her, grabbed her arms and then pushed her down roughly to the ground. Her head connected sharply with the tiled floor and she felt a warm trickle of blood run down her forehead.

Brandy suddenly flinched at the stranger’s touch. The bus suddenly felt unbearably cramped. She couldn’t breathe.

Reaching up, Brandy pulled on the emergency stop chord and fled from the bemused man. She pushed her way off the bus and ran out panting into the rain. She was several stops from her own but she didn’t care. Her entire body was trembling with fear.

“He’s gone,” she told herself as the bus pulled off and the tears she was now crying merged with the raindrops washing down her porcelain cheeks.

“He’s gone.”

As the panic began to subside, Brandy wrapped her coat tightly around her and bowed her head against the rain. She walked with quick, purposeful steps but she’d still be soaked by the time she reached her apartment. As she hurried through the rain she wondered if she’d ever be able to enjoy a man’s touch again. But there was one man who had touched her since Brandon, one man who didn’t invoke fear in her. Aiden. Her tears intensified as she yet again thought of the married man she was desperately trying to get over.

*

Isla took a sharp intake of breath. She could feel her web of lies closing in around her, tightening around her chest. Soon she wouldn’t be able to breathe at all.

“Aid, I’m so sorry,” she began, her bottom lip quivering madly.

“For what?” Aiden frowned in concern. He hadn’t anticipated that confronting Isla would make her this upset.

“Look, Isla, if you lied about the appointment it’s okay. Just don’t go getting yourself all worked up. You need to think about the baby.”

Isla shook her head making her few loose curls bounce madly.

“It’s about… the baby,” Isla stuttered.

“Okay. Whatever it is we can work out, I just need you to be honest with me.”

Isla blinked furiously, forcing her flow of tears to cease.

“Aid, there is no baby. I was never pregnant.”

For a moment Aiden could only stare at her disbelief.

“What?” he whispered when he eventually found his voice.

“I’m so sorry,” Isla wailed. “Please…please don’t hate me!”

Aiden opened his mouth to speak but he was distracted by the sudden shrill ringing of his cell phone. Groaning, he removed it from his pocket. The incoming call was from Alex.

“I’ve got to take this,” he told his wife as he promptly stood up and paced out of the room, answering the call and raising his cell phone to his ear.

“Alex, hey.”

“Aiden, hi. Can you talk?”

Aiden glanced back into the living room before pulling the door closed and moving into the small kitchen.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“The police report came back sooner than expected.”

“It did?”

“Yeah,” Alex’s voice on the other end of the line was subdued but tinged with excitement.

“What did it say?” Aiden pressed him for details.

“I’d rather not discuss it over the phone,” Alex admitted, speaking quietly. “But you’re going to want to see this.”

“Did the report reveal something?”

“In a way, yes.” Alex replied cryptically.

“That’s good, right?” Aiden leaned against the kitchen sink and looked out at the street beyond his window. Most houses were lined with white picket fences. They stood as little symbols of the perfect life, of a happy household. Aiden sighed deeply and ran a hand over his temple which throbbed with the promise of an imminent headache.

“You really need to take a look at it,” Alex told him forcefully. “How soon can you get back to Greensburg?”

Aiden straightened and focused on the driveway of his own home. His fence was blue and in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint. The whole house needed both time and money dedicated to it to return it to its former glory. But Aiden’s home existed on a foundation of lies, he didn’t recognize it anymore.

“Aiden?” Alex spoke into the bleakness of his thoughts, forcing him back into the moment.

“I can leave first thing tomorrow,” Aiden told his old friend. “I’ll be there by the evening.”

“That’s great!” Alex sounded surprised yet elated. Tomorrow evening was Friday night, which meant that Aiden planned to spend his weekend in Greensburg.

“I’ll see you soon then?”

“Yeah,” Aiden nodded, “I’ll see you soon.” He disconnected the call and remained staring out of his kitchen window.

*

Brandy read the final sentence of the book and gently pushed the covers together and carefully placed it upon her lap. As she’d been reading, silent tears had wandered down her cheeks and only now did she notice them and lift a hand to wipe them away.

The ornate book cover looked up at her; the dark gothic mansion hiding the darkest of secrets. She used to believe that only poor parents abused their children, now she realized how wrong she had been. Everyone was at risk of being abandoned by their mother, even children in a sumptuous mansion. Money could make people do the cruellest things. But sometimes they didn’t even need money to be cruel.

Fresh tears sprung like morning dew drops in Brandy’s brown eyes. They gathered amongst her lashes before cascading down the pure slopes of her cheeks. She was thinking about Brandon. He’d had wealth and the adoration of an entire town yet it wasn’t enough to suppress his inner cruelty. He was destined to be a monster, no matter how fortunate he’d been.

A brisk knock at the door caused Brandy to pull herself out of her thoughts. Startled, she wiped her cheeks once more. After unlocking the deadbolt and removing the chain, she opened her door to find her Aunt Carol standing there, her hair slightly damp from the drizzle currently falling upon Chicago.

“Aunt Carol, hey!” Brandy hastily wiped her face of any remaining tears with the back of her sleeve.

“We’re having dinner tonight,” Carol frowned at her young niece. Her eyebrows were perfectly shaped, which made the gesture appear even more severe. With a critical eye she scanned Brandy’s dark skinny jeans and oversized jumper that she was wearing.

“Did you forget?”

“I…um…” Brandy helplessly glanced back into her apartment. The clock on the wall told her that it was almost seven in the evening. She’d been reading for two whole hours and completely lost track of time. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“I didn’t realize the time,” Brandy told her aunt sincerely. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Carol confidently strode past her and into the apartment. “Are you still okay to go?”

Brandy nodded. A part of her felt as though it were still within the book, still within that oppressive attic, making her appear distant to her aunt.

“Have you been crying?” Carol noticed the redness of Brandy’s eyes, the blotchy tone of her cheeks.

Before Brandy could respond, her aunt continued, her tone rising with authority. “I told you to stop moping about after that man! He’s no good for you, Brandy! You need to move on from Avalon and from him!”

“Actually, I was reading a book.” Brandy smiled shyly and pointed at the now disregarded book resting upon her sofa.

Carol glanced down at it and the harsh lines gathered around her eyes softened.

“Oh,” she turned back to her niece, her mouth lifting in an apologetic smile. “I read that when I was at school. It is a terribly sad story.”

“It just got to me,” Brandy admitted. “Reading about how terribly they were treated by the people who were supposed to love them.”

Carol crossed the space between them and wrapped Brandy in her arms.

“It’s okay,” she whispered protectively to her. Brandy inhaled her Aunt’s dense odour of Chanel No. 5 and tried not to cry again. She felt that each time she cried over Brandon, she was giving him the power to hurt her once again.

But Brandon wasn’t the only person in Brandy’s life who had let her down, who had forgotten that love was supposed to be unconditional and kind.

“Did she ever get back to you?” Brandy asked, her voice small as her aunt freed her from the impromptu embrace.

Carol raised a hand to her chest, adorned with bright-red false nails, and shook her head gently.

“Your ma is gone,” she told Brandy. “When she left Avalon she left for good. But that was always her way; she only ever looked out for herself. Sometimes I think it’s a miracle that you turned out as sweet as you did.”

Brandy nodded with understanding and internally berated herself for clinging to the childish notion that one day her mother might return to her life and see the error of her ways for abandoning her only child.

“No good comes from dwelling on the past,” Carol said sagely. “Look how far you’ve come. You’re in Chicago, you’re reading novels, you play the piano now! It’s a far cry from the girl in the trailer back in Avalon.”

“You’re right.” Brandy wrapped her arms around herself as if having a solo embrace.

“Now, go put a coat on as it’s raining out. Our reservation is in twenty minutes and I won’t miss it!”

“Okay,” Brandy nodded and headed towards her bedroom.

Carol stood in the ensuing silence in the lounge and glanced back at the book which had brought Brandy to tears. She remembered how deeply the novel had moved her when she read it as a teenager. It wasn’t the content that distressed her so much, but the realisation that many mothers had the capacity for cruelty; her own included. Neither Carol nor her sister had been born wicked, it was a trait which one of them had learned from their own creator.

“Are you okay?” Brandy asked with concern as she came back in, pulling on a navy parka equipped with a large hood.

“I’m fine,” Carol sighed, a bittersweet smile pulled on her red lips. “I just forget sometimes how potent the power of the past can be. That’s why we have to let it go and move forwards. Mind if I borrow this?” she gestured to the book on the sofa.

“Sure,” Brandy shrugged lightly. “But it’s from the library so it isn’t really mine.”

“The library?” Carol’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Well, after dinner we’ll stop by Barnes & Noble and buy you your very own book to keep.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Carol nodded. “The greatest stories need to be kept and shared. I’m sure I can point you towards a few more classics whilst we are there.”

*

Isla was sat on the sofa, her head bowed and her hands clasped tightly together between her knees. She turned her head slightly to look at Aiden as he walked back in. Her eyes were red from crying.

“That was one of my friends from Greensburg,” Aiden pointed at his cell phone as he explained.

“He needs me back there as soon as possible. Something has come up.”

“Oh,” Isla replied stiffly. She could barely speak.

“I’m leaving tonight,” Aiden added. He watched his wife straighten and look up fearfully at him, like a child awaiting punishment for a wrong they had committed.

“But…We need to talk,” she uttered, her lower lip quivering.

“I know,” Aiden nodded gravely. “But not yet, not now. I think we each need space to process everything.”

Fresh tears began to streak down Isla’s cheeks, causing her mascara to cloud beneath her eyes.

“Aid, please, you can’t just leave when things are like this,” she pleaded.

Aiden sighed heavily. “I have to leave,” he told her. “I have to leave because right now all I want to do is yell at you. I want to yell at you until I’ve got no voice left and I know that’s the wrong thing to do. Our daughter is upstairs sleeping; she doesn’t need to hear us shouting at each other. She’s at the age where she’s forming memories, I don’t want her trying to sleep over the sound of our arguing, it isn’t fair.”

“But you should shout at me,” Isla stood up and reached for Aiden’s hands. “You should shout and scream at me for lying to you, for being a bitch. It’s what I deserve.” More tears flowed down Isla’s cheeks as she spoke, her voice trembling.