The Kiera Hudson Prequels 2 (2 page)

We still had five days of our break from college left. I had already decided to leave Havensfield and my poky flat for a short break. My intention had been to visit my father’s grave and put some distance between me and my friend Tom. But once again we had been drawn back together by another mystery. Knowing that we were miles from home and the prying eyes of Sergeant Phillips, Tom had decided to let me lead him to a small inn in the village of Ripper Falls, where we would stay for a few days.

I couldn’t face being shut away in my rented rooms surrounded by piles of dog-eared newspapers and the hundreds of news clippings stuck to the walls. But it was more than that. I didn’t like the feeling of loneliness I now felt. To be alone had never bothered me before. I enjoyed sitting in my favourite chair and staring out of the window, listening to my iPod. Since meeting Tom, whenever he wasn’t around, I felt a sense of overwhelming loneliness. I guessed that he felt the same. I could see that by the number of texts he had sent to me since Sergeant Phillips had done his best to drive a wedge between us. I suspected Tom enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed his. We had become friends and I’d never had too many of them. I don’t know why. I’d never been bullied at school or anything like that. It was just I felt there was something different about me or perhaps it was the other way around. The other people I knew were different to me. My father had often told me I had a gift, and I always believed he was talking about my ability to see things, the commonplace, that others seemed to miss. But perhaps he had been talking about something else altogether and I had misunderstood him. My father was dead now and my mother was missing, so perhaps I would never find out if my suspicions were right, and there was something about me that set me apart from the rest. Who would know and who would tell me? I had no brothers, sisters, uncles or aunts. Not even grandparents. And that’s why being alone had never bothered me, I had become used to it – until I had become friends with Tom. Now those feelings of loneliness squeezed my heart with cold fingers until I couldn’t bear being alone anymore.

So when Tom suggested he follow me to the Railroad Inn on the outskirts of Ripper Falls, I had been unable to tell him to go back to Havensfield. I wanted my friend to be with me.

Tom

Kiera’s battered and rusty Mini trundled ahead of me. Clouds of black smoke farted from its creaking exhaust. What was the point in me trying to save energy and the ozone by switching off the standby button on my PS3 at night when Kiera’s car was still on the road? The exhaust from her car was probably punching holes in the ozone with every mile she drove down the bleak country roads toward Ripper Falls.

She had already decided to stay in a place called the Railroad Inn, way before I’d shown up at the Sacred Heart Church and rescued her from that Satanist. Kiera hadn’t been so sure that it was me who had saved her from becoming a human sacrifice or worse. Kiera had hinted at the possibility that someone else had been present in those secret passageways running between the walls of the priest’s house. But I hadn’t seen anyone. I had been the only one there. If there had have been someone else I would have seen him. Besides, who else knew we were there? No one. And that’s the way we had to keep it. Neither me nor Kiera could risk letting Sergeant Phillips know that we had disobeyed his orders to stay apart over the Halloween break from police training college. Why should we stay apart? We were just friends after all. Nothing more. And what if there was more? What if Kiera and I did become more than friends? What did it have to do with Phillips? We were both adults. If Kiera and I were old enough to be cops, then we were old enough to choose… choose what? Who we were going to date. Who was I kidding? Kiera didn’t like me like
that
. But did I really like her like
that?
Was I mixing up the obvious feelings I had of friendship for her with something more? It was exciting to be with Kiera. She was like no other girl I had ever met. There I go again – kidding myself. What other girls? I’d spent my life so far at an exclusive boarding school for boys. I didn’t know any other girls other than Kiera. She was my first and only girlf
riend
. And I emphasise the friend part of that word.

How was I meant to understand the feelings deep inside of me if I’d never had such feelings before? Perhaps sharing some time with Kiera at the inn in Ripper Falls might make me see things more clearly. After all, if Kiera could
see
clues a mile away, why couldn’t I see what was staring me straight in the face?

Kiera

It was just before dusk when I pulled up outside the inn. There was a small car park at the front for just a few cars. I doubted if the inn would ever need more. It was off the beaten track and the surrounding landscape was barren and featureless. As I climbed from my car and glanced over the fields which led down to the cliffs and the ocean, I doubted the view looked any less dreary on a bright summer’s day. Giant slabs of granite rock protruded from the uneven fields giving the landscape a prehistoric feel.

“
Wow,” Tom breathed, getting from his car. “What a picturesque place you’ve found us.”

“
You can always go back to Havensfield,” I said, hoping that he wouldn’t.

“
What, and leave you out here all alone?” he said, puffing out his chest in an act of mock bravado. “This place looks like something out of
The Hound of The Baskervilles
.”

“
Then let’s get inside, Watson, before the hounds show up,” I said, dragging my case from the boot and heading toward the inn.

“
So if I’m Watson, who does that make you? Sherlock-freaking-Holmes? I’m not your sidekick,” Tom said, following me. Then looking up at the inn, with its crooked walls, narrow dark windows, and twisted chimney stack, Tom whistled through his teeth, and added, “I’ve seen this place before, too.”

“
Where?” I said, stopping and glancing at the inn.

“
In that movie an American Werewolf in London,” he said.

I sighed. “It’s nothing like that. I think it looks rather charming.”

“
Yeah, and you’d probably say the same thing about Dracula’s castle,” he smiled sideways at me.

“
C’mon, Miss Marple,” I sighed, elbowing him in the ribs. “Let’s book in and get something to eat. I’m starving.”

The inn was just as I remembered it to be when I’d stayed a year ago, on the night before my father’s funeral. It hadn’t changed. The same faded paintings hung from the stone walls. The ceiling was a criss-cross maze of ancient oak beams. There was a fireplace set into the far wall, and flames licked over a smouldering pile of logs. The heat from it warmed my cold hands and face. A few scattered tables were before the fire. An old man sat at one, and another was occupied by a young couple. They were leaning across the table and holding hands.

Tom brushed past me and went to the bar. The last time I’d stayed at the Railroad Inn I had been greeted by a middle-aged woman. A man now stood behind the curved shaped bar, a dishcloth thrown over his shoulder. He was tall, at least six-foot-four, and heavily built. His forearms and hands were huge.

“
We would like two single rooms please,” Tom asked the man.

He took the dishcloth from over his shoulder, wiped his hands on them, and took a leather-bound ledger from beneath the counter. The man thumbed through it. “You’re in luck,” the man grunted back at Tom.

I doubted very much he needed to check the register to see if he had any spare rooms. I could remember from my last visit that there were only six bedrooms at the inn.

“
Great,” Tom said. “We’ll take them.”

“
For how long?” the man asked, eyeing me, then Tom.

“
Just the two nights,” I smiled.

“
Breakfast? Dinner?” the man asked.

“
That would be great,” Tom said.

“
That will be ninety-five pounds,” he grunted again. “Eighty if you pay cash.”

Tom pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He opened it and took a peek inside. “I don’t suppose…” he said, looking at me embarrassed.

I remembered him telling me he had maxed out his credit cards and had little money until payday. “It’s okay,” I said, taking four twenty pound notes from my purse and placing them on the bar.

The man snatched them up, then looking at Tom, he said, “So you found her then?”

“
Huh?” Tom frowned.

“
Your missing friend?” he said. “It was you who called this morning, wasn’t it? I recognise your voice.”

“
Yes, but…” Tom started to waffle.

“
You should have heard him,” the innkeeper said, turning to look at me. “Scared half to death that you’d run off with some other guy.”

“
Now, I never said that,” Tom cut in, his cheeks flushing red and unable to look at me.

“
Yeah, you did,” the man insisted much to Tom’s embarrassment. “You said you’d had a lovers quarrel.”

“
It was
you
who said that,” Tom shot back, his face now the colour of a plum. I tried to hide my smile.

“
You asked me to give some message about some bloke called Phillips,” the innkeeper continued. “You said it was her ex-boyfriend or summin, and I told you I didn’t want any trouble.” Then, leaning over the bar and staring at Tom, he grunted, “There isn’t going to be any trouble, is there?” This was said more as a warning than a question.

“
There won’t be any trouble as there isn’t any ex-boyfriend,” I smiled at the innkeeper. “And me and my friend here are just that… friends.”

“
See,” Tom said, fixing the man with an icy stare. “Just
friends
.”

“
Whatever,” the man shrugged, placing two keys onto the bar. “But you told me she was real pretty and you sounded real panicked about her…”

Tom took his key and before the innkeeper had had a chance to finish and was heading away toward a staircase that spiralled upwards into the darkness.

I took my key. “Thank you.”

“
You’re welcome,” he said, wiping the dishcloth over the bar.

I turned away.

Before I had taken two steps after Tom, the man spoke again. “I know one thing for sure.”

“
And what’s that?” I said, glancing back over my shoulder at him.

“
That boy has the hots for you real bad,” he said.

“
How can you tell?”

“
By the goddamn soppy look he has on his face every time he looks at you. I’m surprised you can’t
see
it yourself, Kiera Hudson.”

I frowned at him. “How do you know my name?”

“
Your friend told me it when he telephoned earlier today,” the innkeeper smiled, then turned and went back to cleaning the bar.

The innkeeper might have known my name, but he was wrong about Tom liking me more than just a friend. If Tom did, then just like the innkeeper had said, I would’ve
seen
it.

Catching up with Tom, I followed him to the top of the stairs. On the landing and out of earshot of the innkeeper, Tom looked at me and said, “Jerk.”

“
Thanks,” I half smiled.

“
I didn’t mean you,” Tom scowled. “I was talking about the idiot behind the bar.”

“
He was just winding you up,” I said, heading down the landing. “Forget it. I have.”

The tag hanging from my key had the number six written on it. My room was the last along the narrow landing. I stopped outside the door. Tom stopped outside number five, slipping his key into the lock. I glanced sideways at him.

“
Thanks, Tom,” I said before he disappeared inside his room. His cheeks were still flushed red.