Third to Die (25 page)

Aiden glanced behind John at his beaten-up old truck. He didn’t envy his desire to cling to the past.

“But you, you’re living the life,” John nodded towards Aiden. “You’re a fancy lawyer, drive a nice car, have a beautiful wife. You’ve got everything.”

“No, I don’t,” Aiden sighed. He didn’t want to drive away from the diner with his old friend under the misconception that his life was perfect. No one had the perfect life; everyone’s jar of existence was cracked and sometimes that flaw became fatal causing the glass to shatter and fall apart.

“I’m getting divorced,” he announced. It felt liberating to say it aloud, to breathe life in the words and make them real.

“Shit, really?” John’s eyes widened in amazement. “Why didn’t you say nothing?”

“Because there is nothing to say,” Aiden replied simply. “Sometimes things just don’t work out.”

“But you’ve got a kid and everything!”

“Yeah,” Aiden felt a knife turn in his chest when he thought of Meegan. She was the innocent victim in all of this. All he cared about was her well-being.

“Life can be tough.” Aiden shrugged. “You’ve just got to do the best you can.”

He thought of how Edmond looked at life like a hand of cards and that it was all about playing what you’d been dealt. Then he thought about how he’d never receive anymore advice from his beloved colleague and he wanted to cry. He wanted to drop to his knees and just sob beneath the darkening, indifferent sky. But John wouldn’t want to witness such an outburst.

Aiden reached for his friend and embraced him, clapping him on the back and forcing himself to remain composed.

“You take care,” he urged him.

“Hey, you too.”

“And if you’re ever in Avalon again, make sure you hit me up.” Aiden unlocked his car door and climbed inside.

“It’s not all bad you know,” John looked sheepishly at his old friend.

“What’s not?”

“The whole you coming back here thing. Maybe we didn’t get the truth we hoped for, but we got to hang out again, even if just for a little bit.”

A bittersweet smile pulled on Aiden’s lips. It had felt good to be back in Greensburg, to reconnect with his friends and reminisce about the past, the good parts at least. He just wished that Justin’s memory didn’t taint their time together as much as it did.

“Thanks for everything, Aiden.” John said sincerely, still loitering on the parking lot. “You’re a good man, I knew you’d look into this for us.”

Aiden waved as he backed away from the diner. He glanced back at John until his friend had disappeared from view. As he drove, he made a vow to himself that this wouldn’t be the last time he visited Greensburg, that he wouldn’t allow himself to become a stranger again to the guys he had grown up with, to the guys who had once been his best friends in the world. John was right; it hadn’t been all bad. Aiden hoped that somewhere down the line they could move past Justin’s death and laugh and drink together without having a sense of guilt lingering around them like an unpleasant odour.

*

“Who is it?” Maureen Thompson’s rattled voice spoke out from behind the red door.

“It’s Aiden Connelly, I’m sorry to call by so late. I was just headed out of town and wanted to give you something.”

Aiden heard the chain being withdrawn before the door creaked open. Maureen lowered a cigarette from her lips to smile thinly at him.

“I’m not used to having anyone come by after dark,” she explained as she let him in. The bungalow was dimly lit which made the space feel even smaller than it actually was.

“Take a seat,” Maureen gestured to the worn-out sofa and its accompanying chair. “When the door went, my heart stopped. Used to always be Justin knocking after dark. He was always forgetting his keys. Once he snuck in through the back window and I damn near shot him thinking he was a thief!”

The corners of Maureen’s tired eyes crinkled at the memory.

Aiden laughed politely. He doubted that any thieves would bother to break into Maureen’s run-down bungalow since she’d lost her most precious asset almost ten years ago.

“So did you find anything?” Maureen asked eagerly. In the ensuing silence she took a long drag on her cigarette which caused her to cough. It was a deep, unpleasant sound where you could hear her lungs rattling.

Aiden waited until her coughing fit had subsided and then he passed her the amended death certificate.

“I was able to get you this,” he explained as she took it from it, “its Justin’s death certificate but now it has the cause of death. Apparently it should have been updated years ago but it was an administrative oversight.”

Maureen carefully unfolded the paper with her free hand. She scrutinized the familiar wording and then her gaze settled upon the cause of death, which had previously been unknown.

“So it was an accident?” she asked. She didn’t seem as disappointed by the revelation as John and Alex had been. There was a sad resignation in her voice which made Aiden wish he had better news to offer, that perhaps Justin had never died and was actually living on some tropical island, hiding out from the men who had tried to kill him.

“Yes,” Aiden nodded his head slowly. “Apparently the man who hit him was being investigated by the FBI, which is why there was a delay in obtaining information.”

Maureen sucked hungrily on what remained of her cigarette. This time the toxic smoke didn’t aggravate her lungs quite as aggressively.

“I hope that this can give you some…closure,” Aiden wanted to say something but knew he didn’t have the words to do the situation justice because there were none which could accurately convey how Maureen Thompson must have felt.

“I’m heading back to Avalon but I wanted you to have this before I left.”

“That’s kind of you,” Maureen kept re-reading the certificate. Eventually she placed it on the armrest and sighed.

“Justin was always getting in trouble,” she declared fondly. “He’d come in at all hours, I’d hear the roar of that God-awful motorcycle of his and I’d know he was back. But he was a good boy.”

Maureen sniffed sharply.

Aiden now hated to remember Justin’s motorcycle. It represented all the signs that he had missed. If only he’d been more observant back then, if only he’d pressed Justin for details on where the cash to pay for it had come from rather than allowing him to be vague and mystery. But the mystery only added to Justin’s appeal. It was obvious that he had his secrets but Aiden never once suspected just how dangerous they might be.

He thought back to that night, when Justin had stolen away from them in their intoxicated states. Had he known that the cartel were after him? Did he know he was riding to his death? What had he even done to provoke their wrath? Had he tried to break away from the drugs trade in the hopes of making a living in a more legitimate way?

Aiden’s head throbbed from all the developing questions which were now weighing it down. They risked forever remaining unanswered.

“I appreciate ya doing this,” Maureen lightly tapped the document.

“Well, at least you know the truth now.”

“Mmm,” Maureen sighed and stubbed out the end of her cigarette into an overflowing ceramic ash tray. It was slightly misshapen as though a child had made it, probably Justin many years ago as a school project.

“It don’t bring him back though.”

“No.” Aiden hung his head.

“There ain’t no pain in the world like that of losing a child,” Maureen told him with watery eyes.

“I hope it’s a pain you never have to feel, Aiden.”

Aiden thought of his beloved daughter, Meegan. He couldn’t even comprehend how he’d cope if anything were to ever happen to her. The thought of losing her was just too unbearable, too destructive. He imagined the world would end if he lost her but that wouldn’t be the case. Maureen Thompson had weathered losing her son. You could see the emptiness she felt, yet still she went on living. Life was cruel like that. Her world came crumbling down around her yet everything else was still the same.

“I’m sorry that all I can give you is the updated certificate,” Aiden admitted.

“It’s enough,” Maureen pulled her lips into a half smile. “I just wish…” her eyes drifted across the room to the faded closed curtains.

“Sometimes I hear a car backfire and I think maybe it’s that motorcycle of his. Maybe after all this time he’s come back. Maybe he never did die, that’s why the cause of death was unknown…”

Aiden cracked his knuckles nervously. He saw now what he had done, not just to Maureen but to John and Alex too. Back when there was a chance that Justin hadn’t died in a road accident they each clung to the hope that perhaps he hadn’t died at all, as crazy a notion as that was. They looked to Aiden to write the next chapter in their fairy tale but instead he’d concluded the story indefinitely. Justin had died that night. No amount of speculation or withheld information could change that.

He watched the last flicker of hope within Maureen Thompson get extinguished and hated himself for being the one who had caused it to happen. Edmond was wrong, there was no way Aiden could maintain his legacy. All he did was break the people he was trying to help.

“Don’t look so sad,” Maureen urged him. “You look like ya got the weight of the world on ya shoulders. You’re young, Aiden, and alive, isn’t that enough?”

“Yes,” Aiden forced himself to brighten as he stood up. “That’s more than enough. I’d best get on the road if I want to get back to Avalon by tomorrow.”

Maureen followed him to the front door.

“The truth isn’t all that great, is it?” she pondered as he stepped out into the cool evening air. Aiden looked back at her in confusion. She was silhouetted against the dim light of her bungalow.

“I mean, it’s supposed to set you free,” she continued, “but all it does is bind the locks on your prison.”

Aiden opened his mouth to respond but she was already closing her red door.

“Drive safe,” she muttered. He heard her fasten the chain on the other side. Alone, Aiden wandered back to his car. He had expected to feel lighter after visiting Justin’s mother, more unburdened. Instead, the weight of everything he was carrying felt so immense that he feared he might soon buckle beneath it.

*

Brandy stood at the crossing and waited for the lights to change. A light rain had shrouded the city in an ethereal mist which, whilst beautiful, carried the sting of a chill which penetrated through her trench coat. Shivering, she held it tighter against herself.

Cars rushed by her on the road whilst the light for them was still green. Their windscreen wipers held back the rain and their exhausts tainted the air. The smell of car fumes always reminded Brandy of the trailer park. She crinkled her nose and titled her head away from the traffic.

Down the street a mile of headlights stretched. They looked oddly beautiful in their unified formation. If she turned her head the other way the same mile of lights shone out, only they were red instead of white. Bordering the line of traffic were the vast buildings which formed the city’s skyline. They reached high into the heavens like glass giants. For some of the larger buildings, even if Brandy craned her neck, she still couldn’t make out the top.

Sighing wistfully, she recalled how in Avalon you could see for miles on a clear day, there were no structural marvels obstructing your view. Beyond the trailer park, the air smelled pure. Brandy used to love taking prolonged deep breaths, letting her lungs completely fill up and then releasing the fresh air, cleansing herself. She didn’t breathe deeply in the city.

The lights changed and Brandy kept in step with the gathered crowd around her as they all crossed the street. She lowered her head to shield herself from the cool precipitation carried on the breeze. She was almost across the street when a heavy weight collided with her right shoulder, almost causing her to topple over and fall against the wet Tarmac beneath her feet.

“Hey!” Brandy instantly cried in objection. She spotted the culprit, a middle-aged man in a suit carrying a briefcase and seemingly in a hurry. He didn’t even stop to address Brandy, instead he just ploughed his way towards the other side of the crossing.

“Hey!” Brandy cried again, astounded by his lack of remorse. He could have at least uttered a simple apology.

“You almost knocked me over you know!” she shouted after him as the lights threatened to turn to green once more.

“Asshole,” Brandy scolded as she completed her own crossing. She stepped onto the sidewalk and as her feet connected with the ground she felt a chill trickle down her spine. It was a slow cold, the kind that crept up on you, leaving you frozen to the core. She glanced back in the direction of the suited man. It wasn’t his rudeness that concerned her but her own.

Brandy placed a hand upon her own lips through which she had just released the expletive. She didn’t curse. She was a polite, Southern girl yet she’d been quick to chastise the man. Blushing, Brandy dashed towards the sanctuary of her apartment building. When she got inside, she avoided the large mirror by the front door, unable to take in her reflection.

*

“Welcome to Avalon,” Aiden stated bitterly as he drove past the familiar sign. He was existing on coffee fumes and adrenalin but both were running out. He felt his entire body sag at the prospect of his long journey being almost at an end.

He raised a hand from the wheel to rub across his tired eyes. He told himself that he’d be home soon, in the comfort of his own home, in the warmth of his own bed.

Avalon was the place he’d marked on the map to become his home. He’d shifted his entire life there and now…

“Dammit,” Aiden braked sharply for a crossing squirrel which his tyres missed by a few inches. The spooked creature scurried off into the darkness.

It was still dark as he turned into his neighbourhood. He’d made good time on his drive back from Greensburg. The roads had been blissfully empty. Sometimes an entire hour would pass in which Aiden wouldn’t see a single other vehicle. It was a lonely drive but he liked the solitude. It gave him time to think. He felt like everything he’d ever known was slowly unravelling at the seams.