Third to Die (7 page)

“Can’t Alex deal with this? If he’s on the force, isn’t this his territory?”

“You were always the smart one,” John recalled with a trace of resentment souring his words. “Sometimes I hated you for that. We all knew that you’d get out of town, make something of yourself. Me and Alex, we were at peace with it but Justin, he always wanted more. He wanted to be somebody even though he flunked high school and had no goals, he yearned to leave town on a golden ticket and become some hot-shot in the city.”

“Yeah, Justin always wanted to get out.”

“Alex is too close to this. Being on the force he can’t go asking too many questions. But when I saw you on the news, how you’d gone above and beyond to help that woman, I knew you’d help us, help Justin.”

“Look,” Aiden exhaled sharply and placed his hands flat on the table. “I’m a lawyer, John. As much as I wish I could help you and Alex go ghost-hunting, I really don’t think I can.”

“Alex said you’d say that,” John announced scornfully. “He said you’d think you’re too good to help us.”

“That’s not the case at all, I just—”

“All I’m asking is for you to find the police report. You’ve got the means. We just want to know the truth. If Justin really did die in an accident then fine, we’ll let his memory rest in peace. But what if all that town gossip was really true? What if some greater truth about what happened to him is being kept from us?”

“It won’t bring him back,” Aiden warned. “Even if there is some truth to uncover, it won’t change anything.”

“It’d give us closure,” John stated. “I think we all need that.”

Aiden opened his mouth to object, but closed it before saying anything. It wasn’t that long ago that he was thinking about Justin, re-living that night when he died. He also needed closure, just as much as his estranged friends did.

“I might not even find anything,” Aiden sighed.

“But you’ll look?” John asked hopefully.

Aiden thought of his pregnant wife, his dying colleague and of his deceased friend who continued to haunt his dreams.

“We need your help,” John said softly. “We were like brothers once.”

“I know,” Aiden smiled thinly. But the brotherhood was gone, it died the same night Justin did.

“I get it; you’ve got the perfect life here!” John glanced around the small space of the kitchen. “You’ve got a beautiful wife and a kid. I don’t want you to risk any of that!”

Aiden closed his eyes for a moment as he thought. His life was far from the perfection which John had observed.

“I’ll help,” Aiden nodded, but kept his voice low. “I’ll help because there was a time when I’d have done anything for you guys. So much has changed but I hope that somewhere, I’m still that guy.”

“Yeah.” John’s eyes misted slightly as he smiled in gratitude. “You’re still that guy. You were the nicest and smartest of us. But Justin, he was the fire.”

“I’ll find the police report but that’s it.”

“That’s all we need.”

“Okay, fine. But I’m done with this coffee. I say we go grab a beer!” Aiden stood up and reached for his jacket.

“Sounds good to me,” John seconded the sentiment as he got to his feet. “Do they even serve beer round here?” he joked as they headed towards the front door.

*

Deena Fern bristled when Buck entered the room. Tucking a loose strange of platinum-blonde hair behind her ear, she straightened by the kitchen counter and glanced protectively at her two sons who were sat quietly painting together.

She still felt uneasy following the drama surrounding the paternity case her husband Samuel had tried to file against her. She didn’t welcome visitors, especially Avalon’s bitter sherriff.

“Afternoon,” Buck tipped his Stetson at her.

Davis and Jude giggled together as they held up their palms, covered in red and blue paint, and then dropped them down haphazardly onto the piece of crisp white paper laid out before them. Their glee was starkly juxtaposed against the tension simmering between the adults in the room.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Deena asked sarcastically.

“You owe nothing,” Buck replied in his slow, deliberate drawl. “I’m only here to see him.”

Deena wilted slightly and cast a sorrowful eye towards the glass doors which led outside to the impressive swimming pool out back.

“He’s having a bad day,” she told Buck. “Again.”

“Having a lot of bad days lately,” Buck commented.

Jude suddenly placed his red-painted hand squarely in Davis’ face, which instantly made his brother begin to wail, a shrill sound which pierced the air and caused Buck’s expression to sour.

“Jude, that was a bad boy!” Deena scolded as she quickly wiped the paint off Davis but Jude was oblivious of her anger, he was laughing merrily to himself and clapping his reddened hands together.

“Two peas in a pod those boys,” Buck noted flatly.

“They’re just playing,” Deena insisted, kissing Davis’ forehead now that his face was clean and paint free.

“You expect them boys to grow up getting along?” Buck nodded towards the young pair.

“You don’t think they’ll find out about their daddies and end up hating each other?”

“No,” Deena snapped, staring at the old sherriff, goading him with her eyes to say something, to cross the line so that she could have the pleasure of removing him from her home.

“I expect them to grow up and get along. Not everyone hates their brother.”

Buck smiled wryly and pointed towards the glass doors.

“He’s outside, is he?”

“By the pool.”

“You keep them boys in line now,” Buck began pacing across the tiled floor but he stopped suddenly and glanced back at Deena. “I don’t hate him.”

“I know,” Deena nodded. She held her lips, painted as brilliant a shade of red as the paint on her young son’s hands, in a firm line.

Buck opened his mouth to speak but instead shook his head and went outside. Deena’s shoulders dropped as she watched him leave. The weight of watching her husband fade away hung heavily upon her. Sometimes it was nice to have someone like Buck visit who could share the burden.

*

Buck found his brother sat on a chair by the pool, gazing aimlessly out across the chlorinated water. His lower half was concealed beneath a blanket but the rest of him was exposed to the hot air of the afternoon. But Samuel seemed unaware of the stifling heat. His skin was frighteningly pale as though he were being perpetually frozen by some internal device which made the blood in his veins transport ice around his body.

“Afternoon, Brother,” Buck removed his Stetson entirely and lowered himself into an adjacent patio chair.

Samuel didn’t even acknowledge his arrival.

“You been out here all day?”

Nothing.

“Samuel,” Buck reached out and tapped his brother’s arm. He felt disturbingly fragile to the touch, making the old sherriff fear that a strong breeze might sweep him up and carry him away.

Sharply and suddenly, Samuel snapped his head round to look at his brother. Buck’s breath caught in his throat as he felt the older man’s piercing eyes bore into him.

“Is he gone?” Samuel asked. Though his body was feeble, his voice held a malice which made it as sharp as steel.

“He’s…going,” Buck replied diplomatically.

“You said he’d leave Avalon.”

“He will,” Buck nodded. “Soon.”

“Why hasn’t he left yet?” Samuel shivered slightly as he spoke.

Buck ran a hand down his tired face and tried to stall. He didn’t want to tell his brother the truth; he didn’t want him to know that he wasn’t the only man in Avalon who was waiting on a visit from the Grim Reaper.

“Well?” Samuel scowled in agitation, which made his aged features seem menacing and wicked.

“I spoke to him,” Buck explained. “But I gave him time, as a courtesy.”

“Why are you giving him a courtesy? That man nearly ruined my family!”

Buck glanced back at the house. Through the glass doors he could see Davis and Jude still painting together while Deena kept a watchful eye over them.

“It’s Edmond,” Buck sighed as he slowly turned back to face his brother.

“Copes? What about him?”

“He’s dying,” Buck declared.

“Who isn’t?” Samuel scoffed.

“He’s not long for this world,” Buck continued. “Cancer.”

Samuel coughed uneasily.

“Copes is fond of the young lawyer. I thought it would be cruel to send him away now.”

“Well aren’t you gracious?” Samuel snarled. “I thought you hated Aiden Connelly as much as I do! You called him poison!”

Buck lowered his head in shame. It was true that hate for the young lawyer burned brightly within him, but his loyalties to Avalon outweighed that. Edmond Copes was a good man; he didn’t deserve to lose one of his friends in his final days.

“You’re becoming weak!” Samuel spat.

“No, you’re weak,” Buck glanced up at his brother. “Each time I see you, you’re a little weaker, a little paler. You’re fading away, Samuel, and all we can do is watch.”

“I’ll die when I’m good and ready,” Samuel informed the sherriff. “First, I want that man gone from Avalon, he’s caused enough trouble.”

Buck nodded and stood up, lifting his Stetson and returning it to atop his head.

Samuel began to violently cough and splutter. He held his skeletal hands up to his chest as his entire body shuddered. Pained, Buck looked on. He knew better than to move to his brother’s aid, any assistance would only be scowled upon and turned away.

After several minutes, the coughing stopped but it had lasted long enough to draw Deena’s attention. She glanced out anxiously at the men by the poolside, managing to frown despite the Botox collected in her forehead.

Behind Deena Samuel spotted the two young boys looking up, their eyes wide and fearful. They were just old enough to be aware of what was happening, old enough to form memories about their aged father’s final days with them.

“You can’t let the hate consume you,” Buck warned, his tone tender but also stern.

“What do you know?” Samuel coughed slightly in irritation.

“You spend your days alone, thinking hateful things when you’ve got two young boys in there who would love to be with you.”

“I scare them,” Samuel announced, recoiling into himself. “My own sons fear me.”

Buck’s hardened features softened slightly at this.

“Copes is a good man,” Samuel said wistfully, his gaze drifting back across the turquoise water of the pool.

“Why is it that the good die young and the wicked, well, we just keep on going?”

*

On his drive back into town, Buck pulled his patrol car up outside the high school football field. The bleachers were currently empty and as the sun set they cast long shadows across the vibrant green of the grass.

Buck loved how Avalon came alive on game nights. The whole town would pack itself onto those bleachers and cheer on the Avalon Angels until their lungs burned. The air would vibrate with the sounds of laughter and joy, delirium and defeat. Buck loved those nights. He’d leave the loneliness of his one bedroom apartment to sit amongst people who respected him as they cheered on the home side.

Brandon White had been a star. When he was out on that field he was like a man possessed and he was pivotal in engineering so many victories for the Angels. He ran fast and hard, the promise of victory always driving him forward, making him run when fatigue meant that he could barely stand. Buck admired Brandon, just as all of Avalon did. He became a hero.

Yet Aiden Connelly had changed all that. He’d destroyed Brandon’s legacy.

Buck shuddered bitterly as he popped open the glove compartment of his car and removed a bottle of beer. He used the dashboard to knock off the cap and then took a long swig of the warmed liquid inside. Glancing back at the field he smiled wistfully.

He missed the days when the Angels were on the road to victory, when Brandon White was the star player who everyone came to see. Avalon was changing. Buck sensed it in the air each time he stepped out into the sunshine. The home which he’d fought so hard to protect was morphing right before his eyes into something unrecognizable. Before the year was out, it was likely that he’d lose both his brother and Edmond Copes. Avalon was at risk of losing its identity.

Buck leaned back and drained the rest of his beer, then threw the discarded bottle out of his window before gunning the engine and slowly pulling away from the football field.

Chapter Four

Things We Can’t Forget

Brandy tightened her trench coat around her as she stood on the sidewalk. Her loose blonde hair blew wildly in the breeze as though it were dancing to some silent song. Brandy occasionally lifted her hand to remove rogue strands from her eyes. She loitered uneasily on the sidewalk, her gaze never leaving the building across from her.

She watched the people enter in clusters, wearing long woollen coats and smart shoes. They bowed their heads to the wind and talked amongst themselves. They did not notice the lonely blonde observing them.

As the wind picked up in fervour, they disappeared behind the great wooden doors. Away from the sharpness of the weather, from the chaos of city life, they’d sit in their usual place within the pews and commence their Sunday ritual. Perhaps they’d find peace, respite or just feel absolved for the way they lived their life the other six days of the week.

Brandy stood and willed herself to cross the street. She wanted to hear the sermon, to feel comforted by the familiar words, but she could not bring herself to move. This was not her church, those were not her people.

Blinking back tears, she turned and walked away, her head low as though she were shielding herself from the relentless flurry of the wind. She’d always thought that her faith would guide her through the dark times but now she felt distant from it, lost. She wished she felt as though there were somewhere she belonged. Without a tether to anchor her, a place to truly call home, she risked being carried off in the wind like a petal torn from its flower.

*

“I’m going back to Greensburg,” Aiden delivered the news to his wife over dinner that evening. Isla froze with a forkful of meat loaf destined for her mouth stopped at her chest.