Vanessa grabbed her post from the floor and kicked her Dr. Martens off, pleased to be out of them. She padded into the bathroom and turned on the bath taps. She needed a long soak after her drive from Cortland. Didn’t help she’d hardly got any sleep the night before.
The night before …
She thought of Dariel. It had been nice. Really nice, despite the awful news about another victim. They’d had a long breakfast, overlooking the snowy valley, talking about their families. He’d mentioned a wedding of an old friend he’d been invited to the next month and had jokingly suggested she come. Well, he pretended it was a joke, anyway, but she could see in his eyes there was a serious note to it. When they’d said their goodbyes, he told her he’d be in the city again in a week’s time, suggesting dinner. He’d even messaged to check she’d got home OK. She smiled to herself. There was something about Dariel Valdez. There was something about the inkling of an idea that maybe, maybe, she didn’t always have to be alone.
She flicked through her post, then paused when she noticed an envelope with the NovaScope logo on. She quickly opened it to see another envelope inside with her name handwritten on the front along with the NovaScope address.
Strange.
She slit it open, unfolding a handwritten letter. ‘Dear Nessy’, it began.
Vanessa sank down onto the sofa.
It was from Vincent. He wasn’t supposed to write to her, but then she supposed it was easy enough to slip a letter to a soon-to-be-released prisoner to send from the outside. She took in a deep breath and read it.
Dear Nessy,
I’ve been sitting here in my cell, thinking about our call just now. I realise now how much I upset you, and for that, I’m deeply sorry. I’ve always been good at pushing your buttons, haven’t I? Remember when I used to wind you up by singing ‘Cotton Eye Joe’ non-stop? Old habits …
You reaching out, after all this time, just to check on me … it means more than you might think. It’s funny, isn’t it? How we can still care, despite everything. I guess some bonds are too deep.
What I was trying to tell you during our call is I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About us, our childhood, the paths we’ve taken. I know I’ve made choices that have led me down this dark road, but talking to you, even for just a moment, was like seeing a sliver of light in this endless night.
I’m not asking for forgiveness, Nessy. I know the things I’ve done are unforgivable. But I hope, maybe, we can find some common ground. Remember how we used to talk about everything? Maybe we can find a way back to that, in some form.
Please, don’t worry about me. Focus on your work, your life. But if you ever find it in your heart to reach out again, know I’ll be here, waiting to hear your voice. It’s the one thing that still feels like home.
Take care of yourself, Nessy. You’re all I have left that matters.
Vincent
Vanessa’s fingers trembled slightly as she folded the letter back up, her brother’s words echoing in her mind. She saw it for what it might be: a masterful play of emotions, tapping into their shared past and the deep-seated bond they shared. But despite her best efforts, she couldn’t fully sever that bond. Instead, she felt a desperate need to speak to her brother again. So she quickly opened the prison video-calling app, noticing a time was available in the next hour. She took a deep breath and selected it. The bath could wait.
Forty-five minutes later, Vanessa was looking at her brother’s face on screen. He was squinting slightly as he looked at her. ‘Your screen is fuzzy.’
‘It might be your Wi-Fi. I got your letter,’ she said. ‘Now I have “Cotton Eye Joe” running on repeat in my head. That song haunted my dreams for years, thanks to you.’
Vincent’s face broke into a grin, the kind of genuine smile she remembered from him. ‘Ah, but you loved the dance moves, admit it. You were quite the dancer back then.’
Vanessa laughed. ‘Only because I wanted to outdance you. Which, let’s be honest, wasn’t hard.’
‘Hey, I had moves. We had some good times, didn’t we, Nessy? You were a good sister, building forts out of couch cushions for me, staying up late during summer breaks in a tent in our garden.’
Vanessa nodded, the memories vivid in her mind.
Vincent frowned. ‘I didn’t want to give you the impression I never appreciated you. I understand, when we spoke last year, after … everything, I may have been harsh on you. But the truth was, you were good after Mum left, really good.’
As she took in what he was saying, Vanessa realised just how much she had needed to hear that. That maybe, it would help ease some of the guilt she felt at Vincent running away when he was only twelve.
‘Do you ever think about why she left the way she did, Nessy?’ he said. ‘I used to think it was me. I was always so clingy, wasn’t I? So demanding?’
‘She didn’t leave because of you.’
‘Are you sure?’ He leaned back in his chair, brow creased. ‘Now I look back, I wonder if she saw it in me – the darkness. Maybe it scared her away? They say nobody knows you like your own mother does. But then I wonder whether I would have turned out the way I did if Mum hadn’t left. Do you ever wonder the same? Like, why you haven’t followed the usual path for a woman your age? No husband? No children?’
Vanessa took in a sharp breath. This was a mistake, calling her brother. Her head throbbed; temples buzzing, buzzing, buzzing.
‘Sorry,’ he quickly said, ‘let’s change the subject. How’s the case? We all watched the press conference. Fascinating, isn’t it, how someone is out there, killing them with insects? Have you seen the items up close?’ he asked, eyes hungry for information. Too hungry.
Her phone started ringing then. It was Bronagh. ‘I’m sorry, Vincent, but I have to go.’
‘But we’ve only been talking for a few minutes!’ Vincent whined, reminding her of how he would complain to her as a child: But we’ve only been playing for ten minutes, Nessy!
He wasn’t that child anymore, though. And she wasn’t his Nessy. He’d ruined that with the lives he’d taken. ‘Seriously, I’m getting an important phone call.’
‘More important than this? Than us?’ He was shouting now, all that anger she’d seen the year before coming out.
‘Goodbye, Vincent.’ She logged off, noticing her hands were trembling, then quickly picked up her phone. ‘Bronagh?’
‘Did you hear? There’s another victim. A producer. I emailed you a photo of the cufflinks that were found with him.’
Vanessa’s heart sank. ‘Oh no, I didn’t know.’ She quickly checked her laptop, finding Bronagh’s email and the photo with it. ‘Yep, those are Salt Creek tiger beetles in the cufflinks, one of the rarest insects in the US.’
‘How was Cortland?’
‘Yes, it was … fine,’ Vanessa replied.
‘Everything OK? You don’t sound right.’
Vanessa sighed. ‘I just had another video call with my brother.’
‘Ah, I see. Bring you down, did it?’
‘Just a bit.’
‘Why don’t you come over for a drink? That was actually why I was calling.’
Vanessa looked around her empty apartment. Yes, she needed company tonight. ‘That sounds good. Thanks. Though will taxis be running in the snow?’
‘Joe’s in your area dropping something off, so he can pick you up.’