Chapter Ten

Arnie crossed the bridge to the south side of the river and began the ascent to Cliff House. A beautiful day had given way to a perfect evening. The cloudless sky had deepened in color to a rich blue. It would soon be twilight. It was balmy too, without a breath of wind from the sea to cool the still heat.

Arnie’s mood was as clear as the sky after spending time with Dominic. The chemistry between them affected him more deeply than the alcohol they had drunk. His steps were light as he followed the steep path up the cliff. His body tingled from the top of his scalp to his toes. Feathery fingers of electricity skittered down his spine. He did not feel like a thirty-four-year-old man, more like fourteen. Only better. Arnie laughed.

It was ridiculous.

He’d never experienced these emotions before, not even when he was young. He’d been too busy building a career and hiding his feelings to get excited about boys.

And Dominic was exciting. No one who spent more than a minute with him could deny that. It was more than his stunning looks or the amazing things he’d done with his life. It was his charm and charisma—they seemed unlimited and radiated from him.

Now they were going on a date. Arnie smiled just thinking about it. A date.

At my age. How old-fashioned. How exciting.

Part of him remained cautious. There was no doubt that he’d get a babysitter for AJ. His parents would watch him any time he asked. Sophie too. The childcare story was a ruse, giving him an excuse to take things slowly. He would call Dominic tomorrow after sleeping on the idea.

There was little chance of changing his mind, but he had to think about more than himself. AJ was his top priority. Arnie had no intention of putting his personal life on hold until AJ went off to college, but this was a strange time for both of them. He’d brought his son to Nyemouth so they could spend the summer together. Not to hook up with some random guy after just one week.

Dominic was no random guy, that was true. He was intelligent, brave, charming, and Arnie’s parents were already in awe of him. Only Arnie couldn’t afford to take it at face value. He’d met Dominic three times, all inside a week. And his parents didn’t really know him as well as they thought they did. His mother was happy to spread the rumor that Dominic and Gabriel were in a relationship, when in fact they were just friends with benefits.

And what about that? Should he talk to Gabriel before agreeing to this date? Check he wasn’t stepping on anyone’s toes. That would not be an easy conversation. They might be lifelong friends, but Arnie and Gabriel had never been able to talk about intimate stuff. Their careers, their hobbies, music and movies were all fair game, but emotions and sex had always been taboo. There had been a handful of times in the past when he’d offered some personal insight during one of their conversations. Without exception, Gabriel had shut it down and changed the subject.

Arnie had always figured he wasn’t comfortable and left things alone.

So how would he broach this matter?

Hey, I hear you’ve been fucking Dominic. Anything you want to tell me before I take a ride?

Gabriel would have a fit.

The fact that he had a casual sex life was a major surprise in itself. Arnie believed his unwillingness to talk about sex meant he had no interest in it. Yet here he was, the fuck buddy of the hottest man in town.

It proves you never really know someone.

And was even more reason to be careful.

He didn’t know Dominic at all. Looks and first impressions weren’t everything. They could go on a date and spend time getting to know each other better, but he would have to be sure of him before allowing it to go any further. The stability of his family was at stake, and there was no way he’d risk that for a hot guy with a juicy arse.

Arnie paused three-quarters of the way home. He’d reached the foot of the steps that would take him to the top of the cliff. He stopped for a moment to admire the view of the town below. The river and the water of the marina were perfectly still, like a topaz mirror. On Sunday evening, the harbor was full, with most of the fishing boats home from the sea. This time tomorrow there would only be a fraction of the fleet down there.

Most of the visitors had left now they had packed away the fair, though the waterfront still looked busy, with The Lobster Pot and various takeaway outlets doing great business.

Not for the first time, a wave of nostalgia for the town hit Arnie. He’d always known a part of his soul lingered in Nyemouth. He’d traveled around the world, but none of the places he’d visited or worked influenced him like this. New York, Hollywood, Rome, Sydney, the south coasts of Italy and Greece—he loved them, but not as much as Nyemouth.

Now, more than ever, this felt like home.

His gaze moved high above the town, to South Bank Terrace, just about opposite from where he stood— one of the oldest streets in Nyemouth. He wondered which of the sandstone houses belonged to Dominic. Jacob Chisholm owned the second from the end nearest the cliff. He’d lived there all of Arnie’s life. Dominic had said Jacob was his neighbor. That could mean anything. It didn’t have to be the house next door. Even from here, on the other side of the valley, he could see how Dominic had fallen in love with the place. Perched above the river, with panoramic views of the sea and shore, South Bank Terrace wasn’t just prime real estate for Nyemouth, but this whole area of the North East coast.

He turned and headed up the steps. Sophie would have AJ home soon. The little man would be worn out after a long day and Arnie wanted him in bed by nine.

There was still no breeze, even at the top of the cliff, but the air was cool and salty. Arnie filled his lungs and smiled as he walked along the side of the road toward the house.

I could get used to living here again. It was a tempting thought, but unrealistic. As idyllic as Nyemouth was, it was too removed from his work opportunities.

Approaching the house, Arnie was pleased to see there were no cars parked out front. No vehicles in any direction. There had been no reporters for three days. It looked like the heat might be off. He hoped so.

As he came to the front gate of Cliff House, he was distracted, looking forward to the evening ahead, putting AJ to bed and maybe watching TV before turning in early himself. He didn’t notice a sudden movement by the tree to the right of the house. Not at first. Just a dark blur at the edge of his vision.

He turned his head quickly and saw—thought he saw—a figure run from the base of the tree around the far side of the house.

Suddenly he was alert.

A dark figure, like the one last Sunday on the cliff. Sandy Costello’s attacker. No. He was mistaken. It couldn’t be.

Why not? The police had yet to arrest anyone for the incident. The attacker was still at large.

And here now?

It was a waste of time to speculate. Arnie hurried toward the corner where the figure had disappeared, more angry than afraid. He had no weapon and there was nothing in front of the house he could improvise with. He didn’t care. He’d had extensive fight training for several of his films so he knew how to take care of himself. And at six-foot-four, if anyone tried to take him on, it would be their loss.

No fucking mercy.

He turned the corner. The long exterior wall of the house and garden ran in a straight line ahead, reflecting golden light in the evening sun. To the right was a patch of lilac, too short to conceal someone, and in the distance a wooded area of black poplar trees. If the figure tried to make for them, he would see them.

Meaning only one thing. They had gone behind the house.

Moving fast, keeping to the side, Arnie followed. The garden wall was too high for anyone to scramble over. There was no ivy or nearby trees to aid anyone in an attempt. The woods were nearer here. From the cover of the wall, the stranger could have made it to the dark protection of the poplars without being seen.

Arnie scanned the dense tree line and saw no one. It was useless. The shadows were so deep, a figure dressed in black would become invisible just a yard or two inside.

God damn. He doubted himself. Had he really seen anyone at all? The movement had been so fast, just a glimpse from the corner of his eye. He’d had a few drinks in town and hadn’t been completely alert when he’d seen it.

Bullshit. Three drinks did not affect him that much, and he’d had his eyes tested five weeks ago. He needed glasses to read, but his distance and peripheral sight were near perfect. It had been no trick of the light or imagination. What he’d seen was real.

Arnie walked the full perimeter of the house. Careful. Alert. He looked and listened, detecting nothing. The background noise was barely perceptible on such a still evening—he couldn’t even hear the waves on the beach. Returning to the front gate, it was clear he was alone.

The figure he’d seen must have made off into the woods under the cover of the back wall. It was the only possible conclusion. Arnie was more concerned about who he had seen than where they’d gone.

It could have been a journalist or photographer. Except, from experience, he knew they were more likely to rush toward their target, camera or microphone raised, than run away from them. Which left him with the grim possibility that the person who’d thrown Sandy Costello from the cliff had sought the only witnesses to the crime.

 

* * * *

 

The following morning, Arnie sat at the desk in the ground floor office. Behind him, Police Community Support Officer Narinder Shah looked over his shoulder as he cued up the CCTV footage.

“I came home around a quarter to eight,” he explained, “which is when I saw them. I worked backward through the recording until I found this.”

The camera was focused on the front of the house, covering the road and the tree to the side. At eight minutes past six on the display clock, a figure dressed entirely in black—jeans, hoodie, balaclava—came into shot around the side wall. Moving with stealth, they approached the front gate and stared thought the iron bars. They spent the next six minutes looking at the house as though assessing it. Peering through the courtyard, gazing at the upstairs windows. There was something terrible about the balaclava-clad face, like a masked maniac in a horror film.

After several minutes, the figure moved over to the tree and, with what appeared to be minimal effort, climbed up into the branches.

“He sits there for almost an hour and a half,” Arnie said, speeding through the footage until the moment he came home.

As Arnie approached the gate, the figure leapt out of the tree with the agility of a cat and hurried down the side of the house and out of sight.

“If he hadn’t moved, I would never have known he was there,” Arnie said.

“Do you pick him up on any of the other cameras?” PSCO Shah asked.

“No. The ones on the back only cover the garden area and courtyard. They don’t extend over the wall.”

“Pity,” she said. “You think he went into the woods?”

“It’s the only place he could have gone. I wasn’t going to chase in after him to find out. There’s nowhere else to hide back there.”

“Are you aware of any attempt to gain entry to the house?”

“No. The alarm system is first rate. There are sensors all over the place. I checked the panel when I came in and none of the zones had been triggered.”

“Does the system have a panic alarm?”

“Yes.”

“Good. If you’re ever in the house and feel in danger, use it.”

She asked to watch the footage through again. Arnie took it back.

“Have you seen this person before last night?” she asked.

“Around the house, no, but seen them before, certainly. I’m sure it’s the person who attacked Sandy Costello.”

“What makes you so sure?”

As the stranger reappeared on the screen, Arnie paused the image. “The clothes for one. They’re identical. What are the chances of two people dressing head to toe in black with a balaclava in the middle of summer? In broad daylight. Slight at best, don’t you think? Not just that, though—the height and build are the same too. And it can’t be a coincidence that the week after I witnessed an assault, someone who fits the attacker’s description cases out my home.”

“Have you received any threats?”

“Not directly. I don’t know about social media, though. I have accounts but I don’t monitor them. But people write all sorts of crap online. It doesn’t mean they intend to go through with the things they say.”

The young officer scribbled in her notebook. “I’ll take a look at your accounts just the same. You’re right, I don’t think this person”—she pointed at the still image on screen—“is going to announce themselves, but we can’t rule it out. Can I get a copy of this footage?”

He handed her a flash drive. “I’ve already downloaded it for you.”

“Good. This will do for now, but I’d like your permission to download all the footage from the last week. That way we can check through it, just in case this wasn’t their first visit.”

“Sure. Anything you want. Take it all.”

She smiled reassuringly. “As you say, the house has a first-rate security system, but I’m going to arrange for a marker on this address. That means a rapid response. If you see anything that worries you, or you have any concerns, call 9-9-9, and a police unit will be here straight away. We’ll also increase the frequency of drive-by checks on this road. There’s just you and your son living here at the moment. Is that right?”

“Yes. But AJ doesn’t know about this.” He pointed at the monitor. “I don’t want to frighten him.”

“I understand. It might be a good idea if you could get someone to stay with you for a while. And take every precaution. Keep the doors locked, even when you’re home. Set the alarm when you go to bed.”

“I do all those things anyway,” he said. “I’m hyper vigilant. An over-enthusiastic fan once got onto a film set and I found her in my bed when I returned to my trailer. Ever since then, I’ve been super-conscious of security.”

“That’s good, but you need to be extra vigilant right now. Don’t take any chances. No risks. Drive, don’t walk, when you go into town. Don’t travel alone. Stay with a group of people if you can.”

Arnie looked at her sideways. “Is there something you’re not telling me? Do you know more about this than I do?”

“No,” she said, deadly serious. “This is something out of the ordinary for all of us. We just don’t get incidents like it in Nyemouth. We’ve had murders for sure, but they’re always domestics, or drug or alcohol related. And guys at the weekend who have too much to drink and beat the hell out of each other. But what happened last weekend was a first. And it pains me to say, we’re no further forward or close to making an arrest. You have a lovely son. I just want you to take care of him.”

“I always do.”

She nodded. “This will help too.” She held up the flash drive. “I’m sure the inspector will authorize a search of the woods once she’s seen it. I don’t believe for a minute they’re still out there, but they may have left something behind to help us identify them.”

As he listened to her speak, he wondered just how safe Nyemouth was for AJ. This nutcase had very likely found out where they were living, and the police were saying they couldn’t guarantee their protection.

Was it really worth seeing out the summer here after everything that had happened?

Maybe, he thought, it’s time to pack up and return to London.

Nyemouth no longer felt like home.