Darkness engulfed Brian and his body ached in places he hadn’t known existed. Head throbbing, thoughts spinning, as he swerved from side-to-side—vibrations jarring his already fragile frame. His perception and reality twisted and for a moment he thought he’d died and gone to hell. A bit harsh, all considered. He’d not been a model citizen—peeping on women, getting close to Lexie when he already had something going with Her, then the whole—
Oh, Christ. Her! Was she okay?
Thoughts of Yuki jolted Brian back to reality, the sound of AC/DC’s ‘Back in Black’ booming over the roar of the car engine confirmed his suspicions. He was not in hell, but in the boot of some car. He hadn’t really seen the vehicle, the evening’s darkness and scattered stars scrambling his eyesight, but most likely it was that piece-of-shit banger the man had been driving before he’d nutted him. What else was he capable of? It was better for Brian to strike first, an anticipatory shot. He reached for the paring knife which, despite the kerfuffle, was still tucked in his back pocket. His luck ended there, every time he got close, the car turned hard. The guy was probably driving along backroads, zigzagging to some place out in the sticks. Did he plan on killing Brian? Panicked and flooded with adrenaline, Brian stretched for the knife once more but wound up bending his index finger backwards, inflicting further pain. He took a deep breath, inhaling unwashed gym clothes and stale cigarettes—between that and the movement, Brian was in danger of hurling. He swallowed, concentrating on his breath, slow and shallow, counting to twenty.
Soon Brian felt less nauseous, willing himself to think logically. The man wasn’t gonna kill him—if that was the case, he’d already be dead. Besides, Brian hadn’t done anything that wrong. Sure, he shouldn’t have followed the man and he definitely shouldn’t have gone snooping around the back of his house, but he hadn’t entered the house and hadn’t stolen anything either. His biggest mistake had been reaching for the knife—thank lord he hadn’t got that far, whatever the outcome, he’d have been in a much worse predicament. As far as Brian gathered, the man didn’t even know about the knife, he’d just intercepted a trespasser—some would-be burglar who’d refused to cooperate—which was why the man had been physical. As soon as the two got to talking they’d straighten things out, perhaps in years to come they could even laugh about it.
Brian almost found comfort in his bullshit narrative. Then he snapped back to reality.
If the guy was so harmless, why had he lamped Brian in the head and locked him in the boot of his car?
Trickier to explain, but not impossible. This was just a citizen’s arrest, the man was taking him to the nearest police station and—well, shit, if that was his plan there went Brian’s job, his future, his chance with Her.
Brian had to stop him at all costs. To retrieve the knife. To do what needed to be done.
By the time the engine stopped, Brian was psyched up and ready to go. With the car now still, Brian scrambled to the knife. He held it close to his chest, readying himself for the big moment. As soon as the guy opened the boot Brian would pounce. He’d never stabbed anyone before, had barely even punched someone, unless you included playground fights where he’d got his arse kicked, which Brian didn’t, but how hard could it be? Brian had watched The Warriors several times and completed both Streets of Rage and Golden Axe on the Sega MegaDrive—he reckoned he could handle himself in a life or death situation.
The boot opened and streetlight stung Brian’s eyes. He started squinting, which hadn’t been part of the plan, but still managed to lift himself up, his joints cracking in the process.
“What in the—” the man started, but Brian didn’t let him finish, waving the knife towards him.
The man caught it, blade first, cutting his palm. “You, motherfucker!” With the knife still gripped in his bloodied right hand, the man threw a left elbow into Brian’s nose, then shoved a knee into his doughy stomach. Brian folded to the floor, wailing hard as if still being beaten. Brian kicked and punched invisible enemies, sprawled out on the concrete.
“Are you quite done?”
Brian stared up at the man, went to talk, but instead of words his screaming resumed. The man bent down, putting his left hand over Brian’s mouth, forcing him to splutter as if suffocating.
“Get a hold of yourself, son. I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk.”
The man removed his hand from Brian’s mouth.
“Talk? Then why the fuck did you attack me?”
“I told you not to move.”
“You headbutted me.”
“And you just busted my hand, you fucking idiot.” The man raised his hand, still holding the knife. “There’s blood everywhere. What’s wrong with you?”
“I thought you were gonna kill me.”
“Based on what?”
Brian got up. Standing this close to the man, with the streetlight illuminating his face, Brian could tell this wasn’t the same bloke who’d thrown stones at the window. This was not the man he’d followed to that rundown house. Though he had a similar beard—thick and dense with hardly any patches—this guy had much shorter hair, clean and slick. He wore a leather jacket that looked almost new and tailored black trousers—a far cry from what the other man had sported. Brian glanced back at the car—a black BMW, a few decades newer than the old banger. It was parked outside an old manor house—though, unlike the house he’d seen earlier, this was in good nick. The type of house Brian imagined Fitzgerald’s Gatsby or some millionaire artist owning. There were no other houses or people in sight.
The guy tucked the knife in his pocket, then clasped his fist tightly shut.
“Can I—” Brian began.
“You want me to give you your knife back?”
Brian nodded.
“How stupid do you think I am, kid?”
“I—”
“Don’t answer that.” The man reached into his inner jacket pocket, Brian flinched, looking visibly relieved when the man merely proffered a packet of cigarettes. “You want one or not?”
“I th-thought it was a gun.”
The man arched an eyebrow. “You’re a strange one, son. And fine, suit yourself.” The man put a cigarette in his mouth, returning the packet to his pocket, before sparking up.
Brian caught a whiff of the man’s cologne—overpowering and masculine, probably with a name like Brute or Savage or perhaps even Bastard.
Brian watched the man closely, there was something familiar about him that Brian couldn’t quite place. The man noticed Brian staring—he didn’t say anything but appeared unsettled. Brian straightened up, scratching the back of his neck.
“Wait a minute,” Brian said. “I’ve seen you before.”
The man shrugged. “And?”
“In the supermarket … we bumped into each other.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “Are you the prick that wasn’t watching where he was going? You should be more careful.”
That wasn’t the way Brian remembered it, more like the other way around, though he didn’t correct him.
“Is that what this is about?” Brian asked.
“You think I started following you because you’re incapable of walking like a normal human being?” The man cleared his throat. “I’m a PI.”
“A PI … Like a private investigator?”
“What other type of PI do you know?”
“There’s the number but … Wait a minute, what kind of private investigator goes around headbutting people?” Brian stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. “Can I see some ID?”
“No, you cannot.”
“Then how am I supposed to—”
“Because I told you, already.”
“So, I’m just meant to believe you?”
“I don’t see that you have any other choice.”
Brian looked at the PI’s hand. He was still bleeding. Brian went to say something but didn’t want to draw attention to the damage he’d inflicted.
“What’s your name?” Brian asked.
“Ted.”
“Ted what?”
“Just Ted. That’s all you need to know. Truth be told, you don’t need to know that, but I’m feeling courteous. Now, please, let’s step inside. I have some questions.” He gestured to the manor house.
“What if I want to stay out here?” Brian shivered, the evening’s chill setting in, his actions betraying his words.
“Oh sure, you look very comfortable. And besides, the subject matter’s a little sensitive, I think we’d be better off inside.”
As if I’m gonna trust some guy who forced me into a car and drove me all the way out here …
Ted beckoned Brian closer. “Now, come on. It’s freezing out here and there’s whiskey inside, but hey, if you’d rather we do it out here, that’s not a problem. Believe me, I’ve had far worse working conditions. Things you couldn’t begin to imagine.” Ted stepped closer. “Still, it’s a very nice bottle of whiskey. Woodford Reserve Double Oaked Kentucky straight bourbon.”
“Wait, it’s a bourbon?”
Ted grinned. “Oh, so now I’ve got your attention, huh?”
“I suppose it is a little cold.”
“It’s funny, seems whenever I mention the whiskey it gets so bitterly cold around here.” Ted turned towards the house. “Come on, follow me.”
He led Brian through the hallway and to a sitting room adorned with avant-garde artwork. It wasn’t quite what Brian had expected but he sure appreciated the open fire.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ve got to take care of my damn hand.”
Ted soon returned, right hand bandaged up, a smile on his face, and a spring in his step. He didn’t look like the type of person who was gonna go around hurting people.
Yeah but neither did Bundy …
“Please, take a seat.”
Brian sat on a dark brown leather chair whilst Ted fixed the drinks. He handed Brian a generously sized glass of whiskey, planting the bottle on the table between them before settling down with his own glass.
Brian drank. “Jesus, that’s smooth!”
“You can really taste the cherries, huh? And the vanilla and caramel are just …” Ted kissed the air. “But, look, we’re not here to review whiskey, let’s get down to business. There’s a person of interest, some nasty piece of work I’ve been keeping tabs on for the last couple of weeks. The guy’s volatile and believed to be highly dangerous.” Ted poured more whiskey, first for Brian, then for himself. “So, my question to you is this, what business do you have with him?”
Brian frowned. “I’m sorry but I—”
“You followed him all the way from your apartment to his house. As far as I could tell he was unaware. Then you hid, waiting for him to leave, before you made your move. What do you know?”
Brian swigged the whiskey, hoping it would help, but even the sweet liquor offered no comfort. “I followed him because he—”
“You weren’t planning on carrying out some vigilante justice, were you?”
“Me? Of course not. Why would you—”
Ted’s eyes narrowed. “Come on, son, you were armed. I should know.” He held up his bandaged hand.
“It was for protection, in case things got out of hand.”
“So, you often go around stabbing people if they step out of line?”
“What? No! I just—”
“I’ll ask you again, what do you know about him?”
“Nothing. I know nothing. That’s the point.”
“I don’t buy it. You don’t stalk someone you know nothing about.”
Brian grimaced. Stalk wasn’t right. That made him sound predatory. He thought of Her and began to doubt himself. Was he the bad guy after all? He’d been doing this for him and Her. But mostly Her.
“Time for you to talk,” Ted said.
“I’m no stalker,” Brian said, lowering his head.
“Then help me understand what you are. What’s your relationship to him?”
Brian breathed deeply. “We have no relationship, not really. He keeps turning up at the apartment complex.”
“Why?”
“That’s what I was trying to figure out.”
“By stalking him.”
Brian’s lips twisted in revulsion. “Not the smartest move, I know, but I had to do something. He just kept staring up at Her window.”
“Whose window?”
Fuck. He hadn’t mentioned her by name, but perhaps in saying as much as he had, he’d betrayed Her. What if there was some secret between her and the man? Something innocent that explained everything. Or what if he was blackmailing her? If the very things Brian was saying were putting her life in danger.
“Someone else lives at the complex,” Ted said.
Not sure if it was a question or statement, Brian concentrated on keeping his lips tightly shut.
“A woman, right?” Ted folded his arms. “Athletic, long hair—”
“She’s got nothing to do with this!”
Ted sat forward. “So, you do know something.”
“No, it’s just she would ne-never do anything like that.”
“Like what?”
Sweat dripped down Brian’s forehead.
“Never do anything like what?”
Brian shrugged. “I’m just saying, she’s a good person, that’s all.”
“Hmm … See, as far as I understand it, you’re new to the area. So, that being the case, how do you know so much about her?”
Brian kept quiet.
“Did you know her before moving?”
Brian scratched his wrist. “I didn’t but sometimes you just get a sense about someone, don’t you? You just know.”
“Not in my line of work you don’t. D.T.A. Don’t trust anyone.” Ted sipped his whiskey. “Now, just so I’m clear on your involvement or lack thereof, what you’re telling me is you noticed this guy snooping around the apartments and then tonight you had enough and decided to follow him back to his, that about the size of it?”
“He’d been throwing stones at the windows,” Brian said, unsure if that made him sound more justified or crazier.
“You really don’t know anything about this guy, do you?”
Brian shook his head.
“Best you keep it that way,” Ted said. “Hold up a minute, the moment I saw you, were you really about to break into his house?”
“The windowpane was already shattered when I got there.”
“Right, so I didn’t catch you about to unlock the door?”
Brian blushed. “None of this makes much sense. I’m just an honest guy and I want to help but you have to tell me what’s going on here.”
“An honest guy, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“Uh-huh.” Ted crossed his arms. “I’m not sure I believe you, like I said, don’t trust anyone, but I can’t say you’re much of a threat either. So, here’s the deal, there’s been a number of missing people over the past few years, mostly out-of-towners, loners, that kind of thing, and I’m investigating.”
Ted refilled Brian’s whiskey glass without breaking eye contact. Brian picked up the glass to drink but put it back down when he realised Ted was waiting for him to speak. Was this a technique Ted used to coerce confessions out of people?
“Like you said, I just moved to the area. I doubt I would know anything about missing people.”
Ted scratched his chin. “Do you?”
“I mean, no, at least I don’t think I do …”
“Seems you’re not so sure.”
“Well …”
“Let me lay things out for you, really simple, so you understand. I’ve only recently been brought in, though I’ve been aware of this for some time now, everyone around here has, not that people will tell you that, everyone wants to pretend this town is safe, like if they keep quiet and ignore it, the problem will just go away. But it won’t.”
“This town isn’t safe?”
Ted reclined back in his chair. “Show me a town that truly is.”
“When I was living in Warwick—”
“Stop. The hell’s wrong with you? Always answering non-questions.”
“I just—”
“Point is, no town is safe. No place is safe. It’s just some disguise it better than others. They create an illusion of safety, but mark my words, son, it is an illusion.”
“This isn’t exactly making me feel comfortable.”
“Oh, really? Maybe you should put your feet up on the table here. Or perhaps you can drink the whiskey from the bottle if you’ll feel more at home.” Ted slammed a fist down on the table. “Don’t you dare. This isn’t a fucking holiday camp or some cosy sleepover between friends. And it sure as shit isn’t my job to make you feel comfortable. This is serious, you understand?”
Brian clasped his hands together.
“The sister of one of the missing people brought me in,” Ted said. “She didn’t think the police were doing a good enough job in finding her brother—either because they weren’t taking things seriously enough or … well, she reckons there might be something more sinister at play.”
“Like an inside job?”
Ted lit another cigarette. He didn’t offer Brian one this time, but he pushed the open packet and lighter to the centre of the table should Brian want one later.
“Perhaps,” Ted said. “At this stage, I’m investigating all possibilities.”
“What’s your take on the police around here? You don’t think they’re good enough either?”
“I didn’t say that. But what I will say is the missing bloke’s been gone almost a year now. I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions,” Ted said. “Now this sister, she has a lot of money and she’s persistent, too—wants to see results and fast. Older sisters can be very protective. Believe me, I know.”
Brian swallowed. “I wonder why it took her a year to seek you out. I mean, if she’s that protective, why—”
“I’m not exactly cheap, son. Besides, put yourself in her situation. Imagine someone you care about goes missing—you gonna go to the police or a PI first?”
“I guess the police but—”
“Exactly. They only come to me when they get desperate, which in recent years has been a lot more often than I’m used to.”
“Good for business.”
“Bad for all concerned.” Ted smirked. “Anyway, I think I’ve heard all I need to hear from you, it’s pretty clear you know nothing about this man, and if you’re smart, you’ll keep it that way.” Ted massaged his jawline. “As far as that neighbour of yours goes, maybe she’s involved, maybe she isn’t.”
“She isn’t.”
“Well, that’s for me to decide. I need to keep a close eye on the both of them.”
“You’re gonna spy on her?”
“I’m a private investigator, son. Aren’t you following along? You suffering from amnesia or something?”
“I just don’t think it’s right that you spy on her, is all.”
“Okay, well, frankly I couldn’t give a shit what you do or don’t think about me and my job. I’m not interested in your approval. I’m interested in the truth.”
“Her is truth.”
“What’s that?”
“Her would never do anything wrong.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” Ted gritted his teeth so hard, he was in danger of scraping off the enamel.
“Her.”
“Yuki?”
Brian felt sick. “How do you know her name?”
“Same way I know yours, Brian. This is my job.” Ted reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a card which he passed to Brian. “I believe our business is done here. If you think of anything else that might be of interest or if you see anything, get in touch immediately.”
Brian eyed up the Woodford Reserve.
“Don’t push your luck,” Ted said, rising.
Brian stood and the two shook hands.
“I’ll call you a taxi,” Ted said. “And don’t worry about the cost, it’s on me.”
“Right. Well, thanks, I guess, and, um, sorry about your hand.”
“Just a flesh wound.” Ted stepped so close Brian could smell the whiskey on him. “Now, one more thing about the woman, Yuki, I wondered if you could keep an eye on her, just in case.”
“You want me to peep?”
Ted squinted. “That’s a weird way of putting it.”
“I could never do that,” Brian said. “I’m not a peeper.”
“Sure— I never said you were, but if you wouldn’t mind, you know …”
Brian surely did know, and he wanted no part of it.
“Well, then, I’ll call that taxi unless—”
“There was a note,” Brian said. “Someone pushed it through my letterbox the first day I arrived. It said, ‘Get Out’.”
“Not the friendliest of neighbours then,” Ted said so nonchalantly, Brian thought he might be suppressing a laugh.
“You’re not concerned?”
“It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Well, it did worry me. To be honest, the fact you don’t seem worried is worrying me, too.”
“I get that. You seem like a worrier,” Ted said.
“What would you do if you were me?”
“I wouldn’t do anything.”
“Because?”
“Listen, son, it’s just a note. It could be one of several things, nothing to concern yourself with.”
“Such as?”
“Honestly, my best guess is it’s either an angry local or the sister who put me onto this case in the first place. Like I told you, she’s persistent and she’s been trying to warn people about ‘the dangers of this town’, her words not mine. What can I say? Her methods are unconventional.”
“You think it was her?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Wouldn’t be the first time she’s pulled something like that. But, as I said, an angry local is just as likely.”
“They hate outsiders?”
“Not exactly. That apartment block you’re living in used to be council houses. Some rich developer came in and the whole lot got knocked down, a lot of people lost their houses, and now they’re just swanky apartments for rich folk.”
“Is that even legal?”
“It’s what happened. Anyway, don’t take the note personally, there’s just a lot of people rubbed up the wrong way—you’re lucky it was a note and not a brick. I don’t suppose you still have the note, do you?”
Brian had it somewhere, but he didn’t want to give it to some PI. “I’m not sure I do.”
A car pulled up outside the manor house.
“Looks like your taxi’s here,” Ted said, which Brian thought strange, he could have sworn Ted hadn’t called one yet. “You take care of yourself, son.” Ted opened the front door. “And stay safe.”