Marcus walked me out of the shop, stopping by the door and hesitating, as if he didn't want to let me leave.
"Sophie." He said with a nod. I tried to raise an eyebrow at him.
"Marcus." It felt almost formal, as if this wasn't the man who practically broke into my grandmother's house, somehow knowing I was there, virtually accosted me and carried me up three flights of stairs to bed.
I watched him turn back and stalk towards Layla with a predatory stride. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
Grandma and Charlie were finishing up at a stall when I found them at the markets.
"There you are." Grandma greeted. "We were starting to worry."
Charlie was stuffing his face with cheese samples, so I highly doubted the concern was extended by him.
"I got lost," I lied. "Here, let me carry one of those." I took one of the green shopping bags out of her grip and we walked home together, the three of us. As we walked, I noted the location of the police station; it was at the end of Main Street, part of an older, sandstone building. I made a mental note of its location; if I wanted to investigate my past, I'd need to speak to Con or his father again.
"Who wants pancakes?" Sophie asked. I laughed as Charlie cheered.
* * *
I spent the afternoon preparing my questions for Con the cop.
His father, the Sheriff didn't seem to like me, or at least my family name. I wondered why. What did he know? And how much did Con know? He didn't seem to know who I was, or the significance of my name. If it even was significant. In fact, he seemed to want to introduce himself to me as a fellow neighbour, or friend, not an officer of the law. I tried to ignore the butterflies in my stomach that had appeared when he smiled at me, and instead focused on the next matter at hand.
I wanted to know what he knew about the accident. I wanted to read the police report, find the hospital records of that night. Maybe I could start to put the broken pieces of my life together like a jigsaw puzzle.
While driving back to town, the images came back to mind along with the usual migraine. There it was. I was sitting in the backseat of a beat-up car. Charlie was just a baby. Everything will be okay. Those words were what my mother said, as she turned and faced me from the driver's seat. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied up and her red lips were smudged. She smiled but her eyes looked sad, as if she had been crying. Then an incomprehensibly loud sound. The screech of tyres and the world spun around. And then a man, a dark man, reached towards me.
I parked Grandma's car outside of the heritage police station on Main Street and lay my forehead against the steering wheel, waiting for the migraine to fade. I hummed a tune to myself, a song I faintly remembered being sung by my mother's voice. The voice of an angel that would never reach my ears again.
Knock, knock. I sprang up, startled. When I looked out of the window, Con was leaning over the car. I rolled down the window.
"Sorry to startle you." Con's apology was authentic. His smile reached his eyes, crinkling the corners in an endearing way.
"It's okay. I was going to go in to find you. I was wondering if you could give me that information about the accident I had asked about earlier."
"I saw you pull up. That's my office window there." He pointed to the front of the building.
"Can I get in?"
"Of course." Con strode around the front of the car and opened the passenger door.
"I brought this." He pulled the manilla file out from his jacket, then opened it front of him. Photographs and loose paper spilled out.
"Are you allowed to show me these?"
"Technically speaking, no." He winked. "But let's keep this between you and me, eh?"
"Then why are you doing this for me?"
"You looked so excited to find some information. You are a relative, and a person in the investigation, so I figured I'd remove some of the red tape in your way. Trust me, we're a small town. The time it would take you to access these documents is insane."
"Thank you, I really appreciate it. So, what am I looking at?"
Con explained the official documents to me.
"This is the official incident report of the accident. Photographs of the scene. Hospital records. Police interviews." His fingers brushed over mine as he pointed to the different documents.
I looked through the papers, handling them apprehensively. Was I ready for this? Would this tell me the truth about the accident?
The incident report was brief. It all fit on a single A4 page. There were boxes that had been ticked, a diagram of the accident site and a short comment. It told me nothing I didn't already know. It was midnight. Jodie Kingston was at the wheel, with two children in the backseat: Charlie and I. The car was found in a ditch, on the other side of the road. The driver's side door had hit into a tree, causing a fatal wound to the driver. The children had moderate injuries: a broken collarbone for Sophie and bruising for Charlie. Another record told me my mother had consumed no alcohol. That she had left her mother's house and was on her way home. That there were no other cars on the road at the time of the incident. No witnesses. It was estimated that ten minutes passed before a car drove by and called the authorities. The accident was treated as not suspicious. Possible causes included micro-sleep of the driver or the driver swerving to avoid an animal.
That was it. There were no answers to be found within these papers. Nothing to quell the niggling feeling that I didn't have all of the information.
"Is this all of the files?"
"Every one of them. Do you have any questions about it?"
"It's pretty clear." I told him, starting to shuffle the papers together to return them to Con. "Wait a second." I looked at the police report more closely. The signature was hard to read, but I had to have a second glance – the last name – Konstantinos.
"Is this your father?"
Con glanced at the paper, then scratched his head.
"Yeah, he was in charge of this one."
"Well, thank you for much for showing me these." I handed him back the file.
"You're welcome. But by the look on your face I'm not sure they were very useful to you."
"I just still have a lot of unanswered questions."
"I'm sorry I couldn't be more help." Con put the files back inside his leather jacket, zipping it up. "Listen, I know you're new here, and...well, it can be hard to make friends in small towns. I was wondering whether you wanted to catch a movie, or go out to dinner sometime? I could show you the good places to eat around here?"
He was nervously scratching at a fraying part of his jeans as he asked me. He was asking me out. I was about to answer when I noticed a figure in my rear-view mirror. Scott, the man who had run after Marcus, was standing outside of a butcher's shop across the road. He was holding two huge, heavy-looking boxes on his shoulders. The muscles on his arms were flexed but he didn't look like he was struggling. Another man exited the butchers and hit him on the back good naturedly, then took one of the boxes with one arm from Scott. He looked in through the top and pulled out what looked like a huge piece of meat wrapped in a plastic bag. It must have been the shoulder of a cow, it was that big. The men both looked like they were salivating. The second man replaced the package in the box and continued to walk down the street with Scott. What was it with this town and overly strong, fit men? Suddenly my mind flew to Marcus and the party tonight. Was that a date? No, it was an arrangement made in order to exchange information, that was all.
Meanwhile, Con was waiting before me, almost scratching a hole into his jeans. His kind eyes searched mine for something.
"That would be nice. Sure." Con had been kind to me, so what harm was there in letting him show me around?
"Great!" He sounded relieved. "What's your number?"
We arranged to meet on Thursday night.
"Thank you again, for this."
"Anytime, Sophie."
***
Was this a date? I asked myself the question over and over as I dressed for the party. I toyed with the idea of not going, of standing Marcus up, but a part of me had the suspicion that wouldn't go down well. The way he invited me to the party, it wasn't a question, but a command. Then came the question of whether to tell Sophie and Charlie what was going on. That could wait until I was leaving. I pulled on an emerald green satin singlet top, on top of dark wash jeans and ankle boots. The September evening was quite warm, but I brought along a light jacket to wear on top. I replaced my glasses with contact lenses and wore my hair out. Part of me wondered why I was making any effort, was it for Marcus? My stomach turned as I thought about seeing him again. If I was honest with myself, he scared me. His interest in my life, his intensity, was intimidating.
I heard footsteps climbing the stairs to my room. Charlie walked through my open door, snacking on a bag of potato chips.
"Your stomach is a never-ending pit." I shook my head.
"Thank you." He mumbled, in between handfuls of chips. He swallowed. "Where are you going?"
"Oh, there's a party tonight. I've been invited."
"Where?"
I paused. I didn't have a clue.
"It's a house party."
"How are you getting there?" Charlie asked.
"What are you, my keeper?" I asked light-heartedly. At that moment, the door-bell rang. I cursed. I had intended on waiting outside for him. I grabbed my shoulder bag and ran down the stairs. Charlie was not far behind.
Sophie was already standing at the open door when I reached the landing of the ground floor, a little puffed.
"If you put a finger on my granddaughter...your father will hear about it from me." I could hear the remainder of Sophie's conversation with him. She turned to me. Marcus was standing in the doorway, wearing a grey t-shirt that clung to his muscular frame, and dark jeans. He had an amused expression on his face.
"Ready?" He asked, raising a brow at me. The depth of his voice surprised me, and my skin erupted into goosepimples. I nodded.
"Are you sure about this Sophie?" I nodded at my grandmother.
"Be careful." She warned.
"What's he doing here?" Charlie threw in, his protective nature revealing itself again.
"Don't fret. I'll have your sister home soon." Marcus told him, his eyes piercing. Charlie looked suspicious but nodded, and was silent again.
We walked to the curb in silence. A truck was parked at the front. Marcus opened the door for me and put a hand for me to help me climb into it. I cursed my short stature, but ignored the hand and reached for the car seat, pulling myself in. I heard a soft chuckle behind me.
"Well?" I asked, after a few minutes of silence, as we drove along the quiet roads. When Marcus didn't respond I continued, "I'm here aren't I? Tell me what you know."
"After the party." He dismissed. I grunted under my breath and crossed my arms, silent for the rest of the drive as I took in the surrounding streets. As we drove, the buildings became fewer and father between. For all I knew, he was driving me to an abandoned warehouse to kill me. I took my phone out and held it in my hand, reading to dial Emergency if needed.
After about fifteen minutes we had reached our destination. I realised it was on the other side of the conservation from where Sophie's house was situated. A group of sustainably build houses were nestled in the wooded area. Music was pumping from one of them and I could see bodies swaying inside the window of one of the rooms. Young people spilled from the house and onto the streets, with cans of alcohol strewn on the grass out the front. Marcus parked and this time moved quickly to my side of the car and helped me down before I could refuse.
"Wait here." Marcus walked off towards the party house with purpose, without waiting for my response. I was left standing awkwardly in the front yard. A group of girls stared between Marcus' fading figure and me.
"Seriously? Well ef you." I mumbled under my breath. I contemplated ordering an Uber to drive me home when I felt someone tap my shoulder.
I spun around to see Scott, looking handsome in a khaki shirt over jeans. He had one too many buttons undone, revealing his strong caramel-coloured chest. He pushed an unopened can of mixed vodka into my hand.
"Everyone is looking at you. You're the new, interesting thing here." He said with a wink. "I can't blame them either."
I cracked the can open and took a sip. It was strong, a double.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were flirting with me."
His eyes twinkled.
"Oh I wouldn't dream of it, not when you're already spoken for."
"Me? By who?" I asked, confused. Scott's eyes flicked behind me and I turned.
From a distance I made out cool eyes, a sharp jawline and thick facial hair. Marcus was standing with a group of people. I could tell he was regarding me. He looked like the natural leader of the group. A couple of the girls in the group turned to look at me. I rolled my eyes.
"So what's up with him? Why is he so...intense?" I turned back to Scott.
"Marcus – he comes from a long line of locals. You could say it's in their blood."
"That doesn't explain much."
"So you like my place?" He asked, changing the subject.
"This is your house?"
"Marcus and I share. Our families go back a long way, we've grown up together." So, this was Marcus's house too.
"Who are your neighbours?" I asked, referring to the group of surrounding houses. They seemed set off from the rest of the community, fifteen minutes from town and all the way on the outskirts of the conservation.
"Part of our little community. Like I said: locals."
Marcus set toward me.
"Follow me." He ordered gruffly, taking my hand and heading towards the house. The front door was open. As we entered, the music boomed louder until my ears felt like they would explode. Marcus pulled me through the door and up a set of stairs, then through a door which led into a bedroom. Masculine. Navy bedcover. A poster of the night sky with a large yellow moon on the wall. He let go of me and stalked to the other side of the room. He rummaged around in a drawer at his desk then headed towards me with purpose and placed a piece of paper into my hand.
"What's this?" I looked at it. A photograph of two children. A boy and a girl. The boy had his arm around the girl's shoulders, and both were smiling. The photo was taken outdoors, and I could see trees and a river in the background. They both looked happy and carefree. The boy was looking at the girl and the girl was staring through the lens of the camera. The girl in the photo was me. I faced Marcus.
"I don't remember much before the accident." I said, turning around to avoid his intense gaze. "Maybe I hit my head too hard."
"You've been in this house before." He said, behind me. I felt his warm breath on the back of my neck. It was like I was hyper-aware of his movements, his figure, like I could see the shape of it even with my eyes closed.
"Impossible." My voice was choked.
"Remember me." His breath was in my ear now. It sent shivers down my body. I leaned away from it, not wanting to admit to him or myself that he made me feel something – a desire I had never felt before.
"I want you to remember me." His hands grasped my shoulders.
"No!" I pulled away.
"You want to find out about the accident? You don't get to pick and choose your truth."
I turned to face him. His body was tense, as if every muscle in his body was activated. His eyes flashed with anger or desire or something I didn't recognise. "You bring me here, dump me outside and refuse to tell me what I want to know!"
"Because you're not ready to find out." He reached out to hold my upper arms again. His hands enclosed my biceps. He shook me a little and brought me close to him. "First, you need to remember me."
"I don't know who that boy in the photo is, Marcus."
"He's the man standing in front of you."
"Ef you, Marcus. You don't want to help me at all. You just want to fulfil some selfish fantasy of yours. Now let me GO!" I pulled away from him again.
"Don't resist me." His voice was impossibly deep and low, like he was straining to contain something within himself.
I continued to struggle in his arms, but his grip was firm and absolute. I felt the tender flesh of my arms bruising with my effort to be free of him.
"I am stronger than you. By a long way. You're just going to hurt yourself." He warned.
I didn't care. I brought my knee up between his legs. Marcus bent forward in pain but didn't let go of me.
"Be still, Sophie. Stay still. I need to control myself." There was anger in his voice, a brutal growl that hadn't been there before. When he looked back up his eyes were no longer brown but a blood red. I could almost see my startled reflection in the stark crimson of his pupils.
"What the – "
"Don't run." He ordered. When he spoke, I noticed the white tips of his canine teeth were longer than before, protruding out. There was something feral about his face, something that was not there before.
His body was heaving as he breathed heavily. He reached up to cover his eyes with one hand.
In that moment I slipped from his grip.
I ran.