Fourth To Run. Carys Jones
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just leave me,” Justin begged. His voice now sounded distant despite his body’s proximity to Aiden. He reached for his friend and Aiden gasped as he saw his hand. The skin had been crudely torn away to reveal the bright white of bone which now clasped Aiden’s shoulder. The skeletal fingers gripped him with surprising force.
Aiden tried to find his voice but had been rendered speechless. Then the skin on Justin’s face began to melt away as easily as wax, revealing the network of muscles below. Aiden opened his mouth and screamed.
“Aid, are you okay?” Brandy was beside him, the whites of her wide eyes bright in the relative darkness of the bedroom.
Aiden was breathing heavily. When he turned to her he half expected to see Justin’s disfigured face. The sheets beneath him were soaked. As his breathing calmed, he realized it was from his own sweat.
“Did you have a nightmare?” Brandy whispered soothingly, her hands already rubbing his back.
“Yeah!” Aiden gasped. “I did.”
He heard Brandy anxiously explain: “Aiden, you were shouting.”
“Turn on the light,” Aiden requested gruffly, his voice hoarse. Brandy swiftly obliged, turning on her bedside light and Aiden was grateful for the yellow light which pushed back some of the shadows.
“Aiden, are you okay?” Brandy asked gently, a cool hand pressing tenderly against the base of his back.
“Yeah.” Aiden sighed as he ran his hands across his face, trying to push away the images from the nightmare.
“Is something troubling you?”
Aiden turned to glance at Brandy. She was so close he could smell her vanilla-scented skin, could see each individual eyelash which framed her dark eyes. He didn’t want to lie to her. Their relationship was still so new, so fragile, like a baby bird that still needed to learn to fly.
“Yes, something is troubling me,” Aiden admitted.
“What is it?” Brandy pressed, her tone soft and soothing, there was no pressure in her voice.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she added.
Clearing his throat, Aiden prepared to breathe life into his nightmare.
“Many years ago I lost somebody close to me, a friend,” Aiden explained, now feeling wide awake as the dust of sleep had been blown away by the intensity of his nightmare.
“I’m sorry. Do you want to tell me about him?” Brandy whispered.
“Can we…can we go back to sleep?” Aiden gestured towards the lamp.
“Sure.” Brandy nodded as she plunged the room back into darkness.
Only Aiden didn’t go back to sleep. He lay awake thinking about his old friend, Justin. An endless stream of questions floated through his mind ‒ why hadn’t he known Justin was in danger? How did he never think to question his death before? If his old high school friends from Greensburg hadn’t sought him out in Avalon, he’d have gone on thinking Justin had died in a motorcycle accident. Aiden had thought that searching for the truth might liberate his guilt, but it only gnawed within him with even more fervor. Because the question which troubled him most was: how could he bear the thought that Justin’s killer had been allowed to endure?
The Chances You Take
The only sounds in the office were the gentle whirring of the air conditioning system and the distant tapping of Betty’s fingers maneuvering across her keyboard. In the relative silence Aiden stared at his computer screen. His inbox was unusually empty. It seemed that Clyde White had swiftly managed to spread the news of Brandy’s return to Avalon and now the town were keeping their distance from Aiden.
Groaning, he refreshed the page. He had enough open cases to keep him busy; some work updating wills and settling property disputes. But he’d feared that the work would suddenly dry up. It was as if overnight Avalon suddenly ceased to have legal issues.
To add to Aiden’s tension, Betty had been uncharacteristically late that morning. When he pulled up outside the office and stepped out into the bright morning sun he’d actually needed to do a double-take of the vacant entrance. Betty was nowhere to be seen. Aiden opened up, bought the usual breakfast order from across the street and then hid in the comfort of his own office. He was about to call Betty to check she was alright when he heard the soft chime of the main door announcing her entrance.
That had been forty minutes ago. Aiden had yet to venture in to the office and face Betty. He wasn’t sure he could handle the look of disappointment she’d doubtlessly be wearing when he addressed her.
But his plan to remain in his office was running out of fuel. With no incoming emails to respond to, he’d be forced to head out and attend to tasks around town. He had a pile of papers that needed dropping off at the town hall along with a couple of documents that required additional signatures.
“Come on,” Aiden refreshed his inbox again, willing someone, anyone to contact him. He was about to accept defeat and go out to see Betty when his cell phone began to whir upon the desk, spinning itself in circles.
Aiden grabbed the device with a sense of relief but bristled when he noticed that the incoming call was from a blocked number.
“Aiden Connelly speaking,” he greeted the unknown caller with slight trepidation in his voice. What if it was a crank call from a disgruntled resident? Was he now going to be subjected to harassment by those still loyal to Brandon who continued to wrongly blame Brandy for his death?
“Aiden, hey, it’s Guy.”
Aiden froze in surprise.
“Guy Chambers,” Guy declared confidently. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already?” His tone was jovial, friendly even.
Aiden shook himself out of his startled stupor and cleared his throat.
“No, course not,” he replied politely. “I just didn’t expect to hear from you again. How are things?”
“Things are good!” And from the sound of his voice they truly were. Aiden could almost feel the heat radiating from the smile Guy was wearing coming down the line and bursting out into the office.
“I’m glad.” Aiden repositioned himself in his chair so that he was sitting straighter.
“Listen, Connelly, I’m going to get straight to it.” Typical Guy, not wanting to waste time on small talk.
“Okay…” Aiden nodded, feeling his shoulders tighten in apprehension. What exactly were they getting to? Why had Guy even called him?
“Last time we spoke, you asked me for more information on your friend Justin’s case.”
“Which you said you couldn’t give,” Aiden replied bluntly.
“Right.” On the other end of the line Guy cleared his throat. Was he nervous? “But say something fell in to my lap and I wanted to throw you a bone?”
“I’m not a dog.” Aiden ran a hand through his hair and glanced briefly at his inbox. Still no emails.
“Jeeze, Connelly, I’m trying to do you a solid here,” Guy’s voice boomed in to his ear. “Quit always being so tightly wound! I have a name and a location, you want it?”
“Why would you give me this?” Aiden wondered suspiciously. “Previously you told me you’d already said too much. Now you want to give me names? What’s changed?”
“The case has been tabled,” Guy said quickly, the words almost blended into one another.
“It has? But it had been open for ten years, why table it now?”
“The Bureau doesn’t have the manpower to keep chasing ghosts,”