Shred - Cuts of Flesh #1 Page 8

Aleister was still sat slumped in his chair when he heard the front door open downstairs as Holly returned. He glanced down at his watch and saw that it was just past six. Three hours, give or take. He hadn't lost the time though: every minute he'd been thinking, trying to put all of the events of the past two days into context, laying them out so that he could hopefully find some sort of pattern or sense to them. With seemingly no grounding in reality though, it was like trying to fit together a mosaic of melting ice. Each fact seemed wrong in some way, corrupted.

  Whoever had cast that menacing shadow seemed to have sent him the email, around a day and a half after the nauseating reappearance of Thomas Webb. How deeply they were connected to the rest of the events was purely guesswork at the moment but it was likely that they had at the very least been this 'Cassandra' character who had given Jacqueline his details, otherwise how would they have even known that Aleister had been contacted? There was still the chance that they had simply seen his reply on the screen of the computer, though that was unlikely. Unlikely... for fuck's sake, I'm discarding an idea for it being unlikely. He would just have to accept the fact that nothing about this was going to be easy and just try to do the best he could. One of the most disturbing thoughts in the whole mess was the fact that the shadowy stranger had seemed to wait for at least two hours before sending the email... but he had only sent it ten minutes before the reply had been typed, which meant they had waited there, in that house of the dead, waited for his email as if they had known it was coming...

  “Aleister?”

  The voice downstairs was Sean's, not Holly's. Aleister swore under his breath in frustration and slapped a huge fist against the side of his own head, lashing out at the sheer timing of it. Why is that old bastard here? Hadn't it been enough for him to have the honour of walking me into the police station yesterday like a wayward youth? He never came in to the house, always picking up Holly from the driveway... had this whole event given him some sort of sense of entitlement? Well, it was still Aleister's home. If he decided to throw Sean out then the old man had bloody well better respect his decision.

  He found Sean at the bottom of the stairs, shaking the rain out of his umbrella at the open doorway, with Holly removing her boots as she leaned against the antique dresser with the huge black flecked mirror that stood like a sentry next to the threshold. It was already dark again, the sun having vanished while he had sat in thought. Another day gone. Rain continued to fall, fat heavy drops that sent shivers through leaves, just about visible in the light of the flickering street light outside. Sean looked up towards him at the sound of his footsteps on the stairs.

  “Sean,” said Aleister by way of greeting, his mouth drawn tightly.

  “Aleister,” replied Sean, looking up at his face, his haggard brow creasing. “Have you had any sleep? You look...”

  “Not yet,” replied Aleister, cutting off the point. He wanted to give the old man a verbal tirade but Holly was still there, eyes wide as she watched this interaction with interest. It was best to keep it civil, make sure he didn't descend to the level that Sean expected him to fall to.

  “Did you need something?”

  “That depends I suppose,” said Sean, pulling off his leather gloves and folding them neatly. He looked towards Holly, smiling affectionately. “Will you get us a glass of water love? I'm parched.”

  Holly nodded, still watching them carefully as if fearing they were going to descend into a brawl. If it came to that then Sean would probably win, what with the crippling exhaustion that he was having to contend with, thought Aleister ruefully. Holly left them alone on the stairs, like cats at the edges of their respective territories, sizing each other up.

  “Did you tell her anything?” asked Aleister, his lips twitching.

  “No, it's not my place to. Did you?” replied Sean, his eyes narrowing.

  Aleister remained silent, until Holly returned with the water. Aleister watched Sean slowly taking a sip before turning back towards him, though when the old man spoke it was still to Holly.

  “Can you give us a few minutes? Your dad and I have some things to discuss.”

  “I'll be upstairs then,” she said, frowning a little as she trudged up the stairs. Aleister stood aside to let her pass, before walking down into the hallway, going past Sean and into the dining area and pulling up chair as nonchalantly as he could manage. Part of Aleister was curious to hear what Sean had to say, just in case there was something he could add to the jumble of information that was still spinning around his mind. He just needed something to help piece it all together...

  When Sean appeared satisfied that Holly was out of earshot, he also picked a chair and lowered himself down into it, grunting a little as he did so, in that habit that men seem to develop over a certain age. He placed the glass on the table and rubbed his temples with his left hand, a curiously weary action for a man so often precise in his posture.

  “I've been taken off the case,” said Sean finally, taking another sip of water and cradling the glass in his hands. “Too close to the only suspect.”

  “I haven't been charged,” said Aleister, managing to keep the anger from his voice. There was no point losing control of the situation, not in his own house.

  “No, and you probably won't be, not unless we find something else,” said Sean, peering at Aleister with an expression that he'd seen a hundred times. He was being sized up, scrutinised by a man renowned for his insight.

  “Should you really be talking to me then?” asked Aleister, seeing a way to get the man out of his house.

  “No, I shouldn't. There are a lot of things that I could have done in this situation and coming here to discuss it with you was probably the worst choice, from a police standpoint, but... there comes a time though when you start to wonder about the direction you've gone in your life, the times that have gone and the times ahead. I have a lot less time ahead...” said Sean, rubbing his lip in thought.

  Aleister remained silent, getting up to go and get another cup of coffee. This was obviously going to be a longer conversation than he had wanted. When he reached for the jar of freeze dried granules his hand was shaking so much that he thought better of it, instead pouring himself a glass of water. He needed rest. His mind was starting to fold in on itself, making him blinkered. He could still hear Sean’s voice but the words were floating in and out of his periphery, indistinct and meaningless. He turned back towards Sean and leaned back against the kitchen counter. The other man looked towards him again. Face to face. Sean met every confrontation directly, Aleister had to admire that in him.

  “All I have to hear from you is your denial. Just let me hear it,” finished Sean, his face somehow infused with a melancholy. Aleister ordinarily wouldn't have given Sean the satisfaction of seeing him pandering to his desires but something in the man's eyes was starting to disturb him.

  “I had nothing to do with their deaths.”

  Sean looked at him for what seemed like an age, before leaning back in his chair.

  “That's enough for me. Maybe I'm not as good a judge as I used to be, or maybe I simply want to believe you because you're Holly's father, or maybe it's the truth. Whatever the reason, I do believe you.”

  “That's a weight off,” said Aleister sarcastically, trying to stifle a yawn. The strange truth was that it was, in a way. There was years of bitterness between them but he still held some respect for the man who had trained him. “Was that all?”

  Sean sighed, before leaning on the table and pushing himself to his feet. “Yes,” he said eventually.

  “All right... well, I'm going to get some sleep now, so if you don't mind...” started Aleister, but they were interrupted by the tone of Sean's mobile. The old man held a finger up in front of his mouth to signal for Aleister to remain quiet. Aleister did so out of professional courtesy, deciding that Sean could let himself out. He signalled as much, indicating the door with a wave of his hand. Sean nodded but did not leave immediately as he was obviously becoming more and m
ore concerned as the phone call progressed.

  “When was the call? Someone's already there?” he asked. Aleister stopped on the stairs, his curiosity getting the better of him. Sean saw him waiting and frowned, though he didn't leave.

  “Can't Eve... I see. No, I can make it. Twenty minutes.”

  Sean hung up and immediately looked up at Aleister, his mouth twitching as if he were weighing something up in his mind.

  “I need a lift.”