The Dead Room

No. She wasn’t going to leave now. For the last five years she had lived each moment with a held breath, her every waking thought consumed with the possibility that the men who killed Dan and the man she knew only as Ben would come back to the house and finish the job. By some miracle of God, she had found Ben, and now Ben Masters was dead. And she now knew Kevin Reynolds was the second man. She had to find him. She couldn’t stop now, not when she was this close.

Did you suddenly forget the part when he tore out of the car park? He’s gone, Jamie. You can’t get close to him. You tried luring him in pretending to be Ben Masters. It was a good plan – it really was – but it didn’t work out. Pack up what you need, take the kids and leave.

Ben’s phone had only three contacts: Pontius, aka Kevin Reynolds; Alan; and this person named Judas. Why so few contacts? Maybe it was new and he hadn’t got round to programming in the numbers. Or maybe he simply used the phone for emergencies, wanting only the numbers he needed on hand. She thought back to her moment in Mary Reynolds’s basement, remembering Kevin Reynolds saying something about how Ben didn’t trust mobile phones.

Jamie thought about Judas. He had three phone numbers. Call the numbers – not from Ben’s phone but from a payphone. Call and see –

Do you honestly believe Reynolds hasn’t been in touch with this Judas person? After what happened this morning at the park?

You don’t know that Reynolds and Judas know each other.

You’re right, I don’t. And neither do you. For all you know Reynolds did, in fact, recognize you and is now speaking to Judas.

That’s why I have to find out who he is. I have to –

What you have to do, Jamie, is keep your children safe. That is your priority. Or do you want to relive what happened in the dead room?

Her mind started filling with images. She tried to turn away from them, and then she saw herself removing her hands from the duct tape – by some miracle of God she hadn’t died, hadn’t passed out – ripping the tape off one ankle and standing, and there was no time to do the other one because Michael and Carter were bound to the chairs crying, bleeding out, and they needed an ambulance or they would die. She ran with the chair dragging behind her into the hall, down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she saw Dan hunched over the sink, what was left of his right hand – a shredded stump of raw muscle, torn skin and jagged bone – dripping blood into a growing puddle on the floor. She saw his head lying crookedly inside the blood-spattered sink, his skin a dark purple from the noose wrapped around his neck, the other end of the rope fed into the waste-disposal unit. She took a knife from the butcher block, cut the bindings on the other ankle and grabbed the phone as blood clogged her throat, and she kept crouching and staggering while the 911 dispatcher kept saying, ‘I can’t understand you, I can’t understand you.’ She saw herself standing in the room thick with gun smoke and Carter not moving and he was so small and he couldn’t lose much blood and he’d lost so much, oh God Jesus, she descended on him first and cut through his bindings as Michael turned and coughed up blood and in between sobbing said he was scared and she screamed at him to hold on, hang on, baby, help is on the way – and she realized she was saying this to Carter, not Michael, and she was giving her baby mouth-to-mouth and watching his tiny chest rising and between each breath she was screaming to the phone lying on the floor next to him, screaming to the dispatcher to hurry up, Jesus, please hurry, please hurry, and then Carter opened his eyes and he was coughing up blood but he was breathing and his eyes were wide and scared and bright with tears as he coughed up more blood and started crying, ‘Mamma? Mamma?’

Jamie dropped her cigarette as she got to her feet, almost tripping over the lawn chair.

‘M-M-Michael, come… ah… here.’

He waltzed across the lawn in his bare feet. Carter went back to practising his lightsaber skills.

Michael stood in front of her, arms crossed over his chest. ‘What did I do wrong now?’

‘How… you… ah… feel… ah… ah… moving?’

‘You mean move out of the house?’

She nodded.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Where would… you… like… ah… go?’

Something lit up inside him. She could see it in his eyes, the way his body relaxed.

Michael sat on the end of the lawn chair and looked at her, startled, as if he couldn’t believe his opinions and needs were actually being considered for once.

‘Are you serious?’

She nodded.

‘I’ve always wanted to live someplace warm,’ Michael said after a moment. ‘Dad told me once that you guys spent some time in San Diego.’

She smiled at the memory – a two-week holiday they’d taken in their early twenties. Boozy afternoons spent in Solana Beach and long walks through Del Mar and Coronado. Sunshine and beaches and making love in the hotel rooms, their bodies brown and warm and smelling of suntan oil.

‘Dad said you came close to living there.’

She nodded again. They had talked about it, but their hearts lay in New England.

‘Let’s… ah… ah… pack… up. Go.’

‘When?’

‘To… ah… today.’

Surprise bloomed on his face – and some apprehension too. ‘What’s the rush?’

‘No… ah… rush. Been thinking about… about… ah… you said. Unhappy here. No need to… ah… ah… stay any more.’

‘What about the house?’

‘Real estate agent,’ she said. It might take a while until the house was sold, especially in this shitty economic climate, but they could make do on the savings until she got a job.

She leaned forward in her chair, smiling, and took his hand into her own. ‘Fresh… start. Deserve it. You.’

‘Do you think Carter would like it?’

‘I… ah…think he… ah… be happy… ah… any place with… ah… you.’

‘Okay.’

‘You… You… ah… happy?’

‘I am. It’s just so, you know, sudden. And what’s with the smoking?’

‘Bad… ah… habit.’

‘You shouldn’t do it. There’s a reason why they’re called cancer sticks.’

‘Can… ah… you… help… ah… pack?’

‘Sure. Sure, I can. What’s with the ultra-short haircut? You look like a guy.’

‘It’s… ah… so… ah… hot I… I… wanted… ah… shorter.’

‘You can see your scars.’

‘We… ah… need… ah… get… boxes.’

‘You’re going in for another operation, aren’t you? That’s why you practically shaved your head.’ He looked so scared, vulnerable.

She cupped his face in her hands. ‘No… ah… operation.’

‘You’re not lying to me?’

‘No.’ She kissed him on the top of his head. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

Walking back inside the house, Jamie imagined Kevin Reynolds somewhere close by, watching, and ran for her car keys.

46