Out of Promises (3 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

In her car looking at her bloodied hands, Valerie sat thinking about tonight, making herself angry, the feeling of the stranger’s grip still on her breast and the taste of his breath bad enough to turn milk sour still on her taste buds.

She snapped out of it when her phone rang.

‘Jackson, thank God.’

He said, ‘Please tell me you didn’t kill Freddie.’

‘Of course I didn’t kill him!’ she shouted.  ‘I’ve known him for so long.  He was like a brother.’

‘Good.  I mean, since when did we turn on our own people?  This business used to be about honour, now it’s just about greed and murder.’  He listened to her sobs through the phone and said, ‘You know my father is trying to call you right now?  Tell me what happened.  Where’s Freddie?’

‘I was trying to follow an order,’ she cried.  ‘None of us want to do this kind of thing, you know.  I wanted to help him get out and escape, leave this business.’  She waited a second before saying, ‘Jackson.  He touched me.’

‘Who touched you?  Freddie?’

‘He’s dead.  My closest friend is dead, gone.’

‘But you said you didn’t kill him.  What the hell are you talking about?’

She explained what happened, that she waited outside the church and fell asleep, not knowing if he came out, and that she went looking for him and met the stranger with scars on his face.  She told of what he did to her and how she found Freddie on the cross.

‘You know when my father finds out he won’t be happy.  He’ll see this as a failure.’

‘Fuck him.  Freddie is dead.’

Jackson paused in thought.  Valerie could almost hear the cogs of his mind turning.  He said, ‘I don’t think he needs to know the truth, right?  All he wanted was Freddie out of the way.  You could say you killed him and nobody has to know.’

‘What about the man I saw?’

‘We’ll deal with that later.  He doesn’t need to know.’

‘He won’t buy that.  We need to tell him the truth.’

‘Valerie, just come in and we can sort something.’

‘OK.’  She hung up the phone, leaned back in her seat and let out a long breath.

Jackson hung up his phone and thought about the words to use to explain Freddie’s death when he saw a red light flashing on the desk’s phone.  A line open light.

Shit.

His father was listening.

Feet moved inside the office.  He had to get out of there, fast.

With only seconds to spare, he swiftly made his way to the elevators, both of them on different floors.  He tried the fire exit, but the door wouldn’t budge.

Behind him, the office door opened and Matherson stormed out.  ‘You fucking little prick,’ he yelled.

Jackson stopped in his tracks, caked in fear.

His father stood in front of him with nothing but anger on his face.

Jackson looked back at him.  The old man he had seen not long ago had disappeared, replaced by the face of a man he hated to see; the face that made this organization what it is.

Sharpe came out, moving behind Jackson.

Matherson said as he moved towards him, ‘Trying to undermine me at every point.  My own son.’ 

Stepping backwards and waving his hands in front of him in protest, Jackson prayed for the elevators to arrive.  ‘Dad, wait.  I can explain.’

Sharpe grabbed him, holding him tight.

‘You call this remembering your place?’  Matherson clenched his fist, swinging it hard into his son’s face.

He let out a painful grunt and would have hit the floor if it wasn’t for Sharpe’s.  Blood poured from the newly formed cut above his eye.

Matherson hit him again, this time in the stomach, knocking the wind from him.

As he gasped for air, Jackson felt his father’s love vanish; the years of loyalty to him worth nothing anymore.

Matherson took a tissue from his pocket and dropped it on the floor before nodding to Sharpe to let him go.

‘Clean up your mess,’ Matherson said before telling Sharpe, ‘Take this piece of shit into the meeting room and have some fun with him, but keep him alive.  Valerie will be here soon.  We have to make the place look nice for her.’

Jackson stood up with the tissue pressed to his eye, wiping away the tears of blood trickling down his face.  ‘You’re nothing but a paranoid, pathetic old man.’

Sharpe pushed him into the office and Matherson followed, closing the door behind.

CHAPTER SIX

Still in her car making herself crazy, Valerie kept staring at her blood stained hands, turning them over and over, hypnotized.  Never before had she ever experienced anything like tonight.  She’d done some unforgivable things in the course of her life, but nothing had ever made her feel so insecure, so weak.

She started the engine and began her journey back to the city.  Back to the office.

Along the way, she smiled.  Not a smile of happiness; a smile of relief that there was still someone to look out for her.  Since the first time she met him, she’d respected Jackson.  She trusted him and knew he’d come through for her.

It took her twenty five minutes to get to Hellman’s, driving like she was in a trance.  A zombie on autopilot.

Pulling into the parking lot, she sighed.  She didn’t want to go through this.  Even the slightest hint that she was lying and Matherson would know.

She found a space in the almost empty lot near the entrance and hung back from getting out to organize her thoughts.  Through the rear view mirror, she found a smudge of blood on her cheek from where she’d wiped her tears away.

Let’s get this over with.

She cleaned her face, got out and walked over to the entrance.

Inside the lobby, the floor sparkled with expensive marble floors buffed to perfection under cream painted walls with original artwork hanging from them.

What a load of pretentious shit.

The left of the two spotless elevators waited for her and she entered for what felt like the millionth time, feeling the same as she always had: claustrophobic.

Since the fire door on the twelfth floor had seized two months ago, she’d had no choice but to suffer the feeling of being trapped and isolated.  Matherson had every intention of getting it fixed, but didn’t want people from the outside looking in.

What Valerie wanted when the doors parted was for Jackson to be there to greet her.  She needed to see a friendly face.  Instead, she got Sharpe standing in front of Matherson’s office doors with his arms folded.

He said, ‘Mr. Matherson has been expecting you.’

‘OK, thanks.  Shall I just walk in?’

‘Well, you could keep him waiting if you prefer, bitch?’

‘Look, I’m not in the mood for your shit right now, it’s been a long day so either be helpful or fuck off.’

‘Oh I’ll be out of your life sooner than you think, whore.’

‘Whose side are you on?  You little brown nosing bastard.  Your mother was a whore.’

‘Watch your mouth.’

Until she met the man in the church, Sharpe was the person she was afraid of most, and she’d never stood up to him like that before.

She brushed by him and walked inside to find Matherson alone at his desk silently watching her with his hands clenched on his elbows.  A technique he used to ignite fear in people, which also made him feel in control.

Sharpe walked into the meeting room to the side.

‘Mr. Matherson, you wanted to see me?’ she said.

He didn’t say a word.

On the inside, she was absolutely terrified.  In her most confident voice, she said, ‘I killed him as you asked.’

‘Really?  Good girl.  I knew I could count on you.’  He got to his feet and walked around to her.  ‘I have something else you can do for me.’

‘Anything, Mr. Matherson.’

‘I have a small problem with another person.  Another one of our own.  I believe you know him and, as you’ve shown me you can kill one I assume you can kill another.’

Sharpe wheeled Jackson out on an office chair.  Tape was tied around his hands and mouth and blood poured down his face to his chin.

‘Oh my God!’ she yelled, covering her mouth.

He was barely conscious, bruised with a broken nose and missing part of his right ear.  His suit was also ripped and his belt was open.

‘What’s wrong?’ Matherson asked.

‘That’s your son.’

‘No one is above me.’

‘How could you?’

‘How could I?  How could
you
is what you should ask yourself.  I gave you a life.  I gave you money and protection and this is how you repay me?  Plotting when my back is turned.  Well, not anymore.’  He slapped her hard.

Without flinching, she took the pain.

He said: ‘Why didn’t you just go into the church and kill him?’  He slapped her again and Jackson wriggled in the chair, mumbling something behind the tape.

Sharpe kicked him.

Valerie said nothing and just stood there.

‘You shouldn’t have lied to me,’ Matherson continued.  ‘Don’t you realize we have rival families in this city?  Do I need to remind you that a weapons shipment went missing not so long ago and we have another one on the way?  What do you think would have happened if this trick of yours worked?’

She didn’t answer.

‘I’ll tell you.  Freddie’s murderer could wipe out more of us.  Didn’t you even wonder if his killer could be one of us?  Didn’t you think about that?  No.  You and Jackson are too stupid to think for yourselves.’

‘I won’t kill Jackson,’ she said.

‘You
will
kill Jackson if you don’t do as I say.  Life is only delaying the inevitable, Valerie.’  Disgusted, he turned to Jackson and punched him across the face before spitting at him.  Then, calmly as ever, he turned back to Valerie.  ‘Why are you plotting behind my back?  I rescued you from the streets.  Where’s my respect?  Nobody is above me.’

She stayed quiet.

‘I want you to find out who killed Freddie or you’ll be where Jackson is and he’ll be in the ground.  And don’t fuck with me anymore.  I always liked you.  I’m letting you off lightly.’

Sharpe’s face dropped.  He was hoping to have Valerie to himself, to do whatever he wanted.

With teary eyes, she said, ‘Thank you, Mr. Matherson.’

‘Oh, and Valerie, don’t think about leaving the city.  I will know.’

‘I won’t leave.  I promise.’

‘Your promises mean nothing to me right now.  Get out of my sight and find whoever killed Freddie. 
And
if you go into a church, follow him in.’

She nodded and looked at Jackson’s swollen face for the last time before leaving the room.  Sharpe followed.

‘You stay in here, Sharpe,’ ordered Matherson.

Valerie walked back to her car and drove home for some sleep, not fast, just cruising along at a steady thirty five.

Her emotions were everywhere: anger, fear, guilt – all at the same time.  Part of her felt like smashing the car into a wall or driving off a bridge, just for an escape, to be free from the pressure and overwhelming torment.

Instead of going straight home, she headed to a quiet place she liked to visit beside the riverside, parking up and looking out at the bleak water with the soothing sound of trees rustling outside.  This was the most peaceful she was ever likely to be in this city.

A minute later, she was out of the car and standing on the river’s bank.  Alone and curious, she wondered that, if she jumped in, would anybody actually care?  It wouldn’t help Jackson, but at least she’d be free of the pain her life was heading towards.

Get a grip, Valerie.

She held out the blood covered wooden cross and dropped it into the river, the last piece of Freddie she had left, and a reminder of his young demise.

Time to focus on her task at hand.

She wiped the tears from her face and got back into her car to drive back to the apartment.

How much sleep she would get tonight was a different matter.  It had been a long day.  Things had happened today she would never forget.

Sitting on her bed, she wondered where to start looking.  Her mind was a mess, blank with no plan coming to mind.

With tears returning to her eyes, she just laid her head on the pillow, curled herself into a ball and cried herself to sleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hollow and spacious, yet warm and welcoming, the house the stranger lived in with his owner wasn’t modern by any means, though it served their purpose.

He stood in the lobby, still aroused at the thought of Valerie’s breast in his hand.  He knew he couldn’t touch her without his owner’s permission, but tonight, his needs got the better of him.  A tormented soul, the scars on his face made him feel like something not of this world.  Everywhere he went people would stare and look disgusted or intentionally turn away like he was some kind of monster.  Even his own reflection made him recoil.  The only person to treat him like a human was his owner.

With an aching limp serving as a constant reminder of what happened some years ago, he entered the dining area, bringing out a case for his revolver from the cupboard.  He ran his fingers over the open winged eagle engraved on the lid, feeling the rough texture of the wood and recalling each and every shot he’d fired.

He grinned.

After wiping the weapon with a rag, he gently rested it inside its felt moulding and locked it; a ritual he’d done thousands of times before.

He put the box back in the cupboard and poured a glass of his favourite single malt Scotch whiskey, lighting up a cigarette and sitting down for a moment at the dining table to reflect on what he’d achieved tonight.

Once finished, he headed upstairs passing a stair lift and into his owner’s bedroom to find him gazing through the window into the night sky.

‘It’s done,’ he said.

His master grinned.  ‘Finally, who said revenge doesn’t feel good?’

‘What now?’

‘Don’t rush me.  Go to sleep and we’ll talk in the morning.’

‘Right,’ he replied, leaving the bedroom and entering another one across the hallway.

Sitting on his bed, he couldn’t stop thinking of Valerie in the church, fixating on her humiliating vulnerability.  He thought about what he wanted to do to her.  He thought about his past victims and the helpless screams that would inevitably come shattering out like a soothing harmony to his ears.  He wanted to hear Valerie scream like that and was convinced that one day, he would.