She had been crying, tear stains tarnishing her cheeks. Adam felt torn – guilty at causing this anguish, but furious at Christine for her weakness.
‘I just want to understand what’s going on. You’ve been acting so strangely …’
They were standing in her spotless front room. She had retreated home following their unpleasant confrontation at his house earlier. She was mad with grief anyway, but had been left badly shaken by Adam’s angry refusal to engage with her. Her red, puffy eyes revealed the extent of her distress.
‘One minute, you’re slamming the door in my face, telling me to mind my own business. The next you’re turning up on my doorstep, drunk, asking to come in.’
‘I know and I’m sorry,’ Adam replied quickly, ignoring the flush of shame at his drunkenness and his clumsy, callous behaviour. ‘It’s just that things didn’t go the way I’d hoped with the Board this morning …’
A flash of something in Christine’s ravaged eyes – as if she’d known all along what the outcome would be.
‘So I had a couple of drinks, more than a couple actually … It was stupid of me and I should never have taken my disappointment out on you …’
He could taste the stale whiskey in his mouth. He had drunk most of a bottle this afternoon, but still wanted more.
‘Which is why I wanted to come around to apologize. I truly am sorry …’
Her face immediately softened, further exacerbating Adam’s guilt at lying to her. He thought she was about to start crying again, but to his immense relief she managed to retain her composure.
‘Apology accepted, Adam. I know things are tough, but we need to stick together …’
Adam nodded, shame robbing him of the ability to respond.
‘Now how about I fix us some coffee? I’m sure we could both use a cup.’
She bustled off to the kitchen even before the sentence was finished. Adam watched her disappear through the swing doors, then hurried into the hallway. He paused briefly to see if his movement had been detected, but Christine was busy filling the kettle, so he hurried on down the hallway and into the master bedroom.
It was immaculate, like every other room in the house. Crossing the floor, Adam climbed up on to the neatly made bed. The sudden step up made his head spin and for a moment he swayed unsteadily back and forth. But then, placing his hand on the wall for support, he managed to regain his balance, and refocus on the job in hand. First, he removed the portrait that hung above the headboard. Placing it carefully on the bed beside him, he then turned his attention to the wall. A small wall-mounted safe stared back at him. Another quick check over his shoulder, then he began to spin the dial. He had helped Christine install it, knew her pass code was always her date of birth, so the dial clicked easily into place and soon the safe was open. There were numerous documents and keepsakes at the bottom, but perched on top of them was a Beretta M9.
Faith had never liked guns, but had eventually sanctioned her mother getting one, as she lived alone in an increasingly violent city. Christine had never used it of course – but it made her sleep easier at night, which was the point. Eagerly, Adam snatched it up, shoving it into his jacket.
Closing the safe, he replaced the portrait on the wall. It was of Faith as a young woman, painted by a family friend, and the sight made him pause. She looked so youthful, so innocent, so happy. Her eyes sought his out, wanting to make a connection, but he couldn’t go there, not now. Instead, he kissed his fingers and placed them on her lips, before stepping down off the bed and hurrying out of the room.
Back in the hallway, Adam could hear Christine humming to herself in the kitchen, the gentle clink of crockery. There was no time to waste, so, easing open the front door, he slipped out into the night, the hard steel of the gun pressing against his chest.