Against the Tide (12 page)

“And you’d be saying the same if it was your sister that died?” I fire back at him knowing that he is unbelievably close to his twin sister Lori, and that it would hit home a little for him and make him think about how I’m feeling right now.

“Yes, I’d be saying the same, only instead of blaming everyone including myself, I’d be out there trying to find the fucker that gave that shit to her in the first place. It’s not the loaded gun that’s dangerous, Finn. It’s the man that pulls the trigger.”

“So what are you doing about it then?” I ask, confusing him. “You’re old bill, what are your boys doing about finding the guy that killed my sister?”

“Nothing anymore. They wouldn’t let me work on it as I’m personally involved. But they investigated and did some digging and they can’t find anything. It’s an open and shut case, man. There’s no way to track down who Lizzie got it from. The Cabin is known for its drugs, hell, even you’ve dealt in there before.”

My stomach is suddenly hit with a lead weight at the revelation that he knows, how does he know? “H-how?”

“I’m not fucking stupid, Finn. I know why you did it, I know you needed the money to support your mum and Lizzie, I get it. But did you ever stop to think that some of the shit you passed on was dodgy as fuck?”

“Shit.” I suddenly feel faint. What if it was passed on to Lizzie, what if I had carried the drugs that killed her?

“Never thought of that, huh?” he says quietly.

“No, I never thought past looking after my mum and Liz. I never thought it could do so much damage. You didn’t think to arrest my sorry arse?”

“Well,” he sighs. “You put me in a very awkward position, several times, but you never brought back to the house, and I thank you for that.”

“I’m sorry.” I clap him on the shoulder and lower myself on to the edge of the bed resting my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands. “I guess I’ve had to say that a lot lately. I’ve been a shitty brother, a shitty son and now I’m a shitty friend.”

“Hey, we all have times when we don’t do the right thing.”

“Even you?”

“Yeah, mate.” He frowns and drifts away for a second. “Even me.”

“So I’m going to start putting things right. No more drugs.” Harley nods at my decision. “My mum needs to feel like she hasn’t lost both of her children, and I need to find the person that gave my Liz drugs, and stop him from doing it again.”

“Fuck, that wasn’t what I meant, Finn.”

“Look, Harley, you said it yourself, I need to get my act together, and I can’t do that while I know the guy who did that to my sister is walking around like his shit doesn’t stink. It’s time I made sure his gun isn’t loaded.”

The waves lap gently, kissing the pebbles at the edge of the shore, and I sit under the pier looking out to the infinite sea. Children run up and down the beach, playing and shouting, laughing and arguing, and on a summer’s day like today, everyone’s worries seem to melt away with the sun, even if just for a short while.

Everyone’s worries, except mine.

Under the pier has always felt like my untroubled place. It has always felt like the place where I could make the most rational decisions and where my thoughts would seem to make sense. I don’t know why. Maybe because I felt I was invisible under here. Tucked away from the rest of the world, looking out at it from my own bubble. The quiet. The calm. The tranquil sound of the tide which comes and goes with as much certainty as the sun rises and falls.

Today is not like that.

Today the noise of the seaside is too much to take. The pebbles feel uncomfortable underneath me and the sea gives off a dangerous feeling, an undercurrent, the calm before the storm. It’s like the universe knows what I’m going through right now.

Sitting in my satchel, in a paper bag, are two pregnancy tests that I picked up from the chemist’s earlier this morning after Jamie went to work. So I stopped in a café, used their toilet while they made me an iced latte, peed on both the sticks, just in case one didn’t work, and put them back in the box while they worked their magic.

That was an hour ago, the iced latte is no longer iced, and I still can’t bring myself to look.

I’m pretty damn sure I know what I’m going to see when I look. But seeing it there, for real, right in front of me, an actual confirmation that this whole crazy situation is real, means that I have to make decisions.

Everything will change. I will change. I already have.

When I was a little girl, I believed in happily ever after. I believed that one day I would fall in love with my Prince Charming, and he would protect me from all the evils in the world. That I could live in my own little bubble without having to worry about anything other than the man of my dreams treating me like the princesses are treated in fairy tales. I held on to that ideal for as long as I could but when life happens, you quickly come to realise that the only fairy tales that exist are on paper, in story books. There is no such thing as Prince Charming, and if you want to have a good life, you have to make it for yourself. When I first met Damien, I let a really tiny part of me believe that there might just be some truth in the old tales. Well, if this is what fairy tales are really made of, I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it. I would rather be alone. Only now the chances are, I might not be alone at all.

I mutter a curse under my breath for being so cowardly, and not just facing this head on. For all I know those sticks could have the answer I do want, as opposed to the one that scares the life out of me. So I grab the box out of my bag and pull the end open, tipping both plastic sticks out in to my shaking palm. The noise around me quiets, even the sea seems to stop moving for a moment. I take a deep breath and turn them both over so the windows are looking up at me.

Two little lines.

Oh. shit.

After trying to talk me out of my idea, Harley realised it was a losing battle. I might still have a monster hangover due to my self-abuse, but today has been a day of clarity compared to the last month. I know the only way to move on is to put things right. There is a person out there that might have no idea what they did to my sister. They could be sitting in their castle right now totally oblivious to the pain and suffering they have caused. Well, I’d feel better if there’s a little bit of justice here. A better balance if you like. Equilibrium.

After putting a little pressure on the guy who has previously supplied me with illegal substances, he pointed me in the direction of The Cabin’s owner, Julian Price. I’ve been waiting in the café across the road from The Cabin for the last hour and a half. I have mindlessly drank three coffees that have given me the caffeine shakes, which on top of the adrenaline pumping around my body, makes me feel dangerous, and I fucking love it. It’s a precarious replacement for the self-pity I’ve been wallowing in for the last month.

A sleek Jaguar pulls in to the alley by the club. The same alley where I was with Megan. For a second her pretty face flashes across my mind, her moans echoing in the alley, her long, painted nails digging hard in my skin. It sends a stabbing feeling of both regret and passion into my gut, which I shake off and try to focus on the reason I’m here. I jump up from my window seat and exit the café, throwing a ten pound note on the counter to cover my coffees as I leave. In just a few seconds I’m at the entrance to the alley and I slow my pace and soften my footsteps. The door of the Jag pops open and out steps Julian Price. Slimy fucker. He’s at least four inches shorter than me and skinnier in build. He’s dressed in a designer grey suit, with one sleeve pulled up just enough so that you can see the flashy Rolex on his wrist, and he wears a chunky tasteless gold chain around that scrawny neck of his. I stay out of his line of sight and watch as he fumbles around with a leather briefcase before clicking the fob to lock the car behind him. As he puts his keys in the club door, I start to run, covering ground fast and coming up behind him. He looks over his shoulder in a panic and opens his mouth like a fish out of water to shout, but I clamp my hand over it tightly before grabbing his arm with my free hand and twisting it sharply up his back as far as I can get it. He cries out, in shock as much as discomfort.

Thank you, Harley, for all the different ways you showed me how to immobilise a suspect.

“Hello Mr. Price, it’s mighty nice to meet you. Why don’t you let us in, and take me somewhere more private, eh?” I suggest in a quiet but assertive voice that leaves no room for indecision or argument. He instantly drops his leather briefcase and fumbles to open the door with shaky hands. He’s absolutely shitting himself, he has no idea who I am or why I’m here, and he probably thinks I’m going to rob him. Stupid fucker. The fact that he complies so easily gives me a heady power, a power and control I haven’t felt for a long time. Long before even Lizzie died.

I drop my hand from his mouth and he gasps. “What do you want?” he whimpers like a little girl and I laugh.

“Information. Move,” I order, pushing him forward. “There a panic button in your office?”

“N-n-no.”

“You sure? ‘Cause if you’re shitting me …” I give him the option to tell the truth as I’m not really here to hurt him, as long as he does what he’s told and gives me what I want.

“N-no. It’s the truth,” he answers shakily.

“You try and call for help, I’ll make you regret breathing today.” I twist his arm a little harder just as a warning. This is going to be fun.

We walk through the club and up a small flight of stairs before we reach his office door and he taps in the number code to unlock it. He pushes the door open and must sense a loosening of my grip as he turns fast and barges me with his shoulder as hard as he can, shoving me into the wall and taking off at a run.

Really, really stupid move.

He runs as fast as his legs will carry him, but I’m faster and I’m on him before he can make it even halfway across the dance floor. I take him down with a thud, landing with his face pressed against the cold tile floor. I jam my knee between his shoulder blades causing him to pull them back in pain. I move fast, grabbing his hands and pulling them around to meet at the bottom of his back. I reach in my back pocket and grab the lanyard that’s attached to my keys. I snap it off and loop it around each wrist before tying them together and pulling tight so there’s no chance of him getting free. Mr. Julian Price isn’t going anywhere for a while.

“That was a really silly move, my friend,” I inform him with an eerie calmness to my tone.

Just when I thought we could have done this easily, he showed me he didn’t want it without a fight. Well, if that’s what he wants. He wriggles underneath my grip and my patience snaps. I slam my palm into the back of his head, and smash his nose down to the cold, hard tile of the dance floor. He screams in pain and jerks his head back up before letting it drop back down with a thump and a strangled groan. I grab his hair and twist his head up and around to face me. His eyes struggle to focus and his nose has more or less exploded across his face leaving blood pouring from it and collecting in a pool on the floor in front of him. “You want to do this the hard way?” I ask, pulling my flick knife out of my pocket and popping the blade out. It glints as the light catches it and his eyes widen.