Ben Cheetham - The Society of Dirty Hearts

Julian drove into the driveway, aware of the policeman watching him. Quietly as possible he entered the house and made his way to his bedroom. A glance in the mirror showed him there was a half-egg shaped swelling where he’d hit his head, and his pupils were huge with concussion. He flopped onto the bed, not bothering to undress or get under the duvet. Again, he wondered whether Tom Benson was right. Again, he dismissed the possibility. The detective was either mistaken or lying. Maybe that’s what Jake had meant when he said, you can’t help her. Maybe the local police were corrupt. Maybe the whole fucking town was corrupt. When he closed his eyes, he felt the dropping sensation again. He was falling, dropping down, down into a fog of doubt, where he saw nothing but lies. Lies. Everywhere lies. They crowded in on him as thickly as trees in a forest, until it was impossible to know where they stopped and the truth began.

Julian felt something prodding him. “Julian, Julian.” His dad’s insistent voice summoned him away from the horror of his dreams. His eyes flicked open and he yanked the duvet over his groin to hide his erection.

“What is it?” he asked groggily.

“Time for work.” Frowning with concern, Robert pointed at Julian’s forehead. “What happened?”

Remembering about the car, Julian’s mind raced for a credible lie to explain the damage. The worst thing in the world, his mum’s words echoed in his mind as he said, “I was driving in the forest and hit a deer. I braked so hard my head rammed into the steering-wheel. One of the headlights got damaged and I think there might be a few dents. I’m sorry.”

At the very least, Julian expected a lecture about driving carefully — he’d often been warned to watch out for deer crossing the forest roads — but his dad merely smiled. “No need to apologise, it’s not your fault. As long as you’re okay.”

Julian managed to return a smile. He was still unsure what to make of this new, softer version of his dad. He wanted to believe the change was real, but the cynic in him said it was for his mum’s benefit. “I’m fine.”

“What were you doing in the forest?”

“Just driving and thinking about the business. You know, trying to come up with ideas.”

“And did you?”

“One or two.”

“Well, I look forward to hearing them. Get yourself in the shower. I’d better check the damage.”

Julian checked his phone. There were no missed calls. There was a message from Eleanor, though. ‘Call me. X’ it read. Julian deleted it. After showering and dressing, he called goodbye to his mum and hurried outside. He was hollow with hunger, but he knew that if he sat down to breakfast he’d have to lie to her about the bruise on his temple — and he preferred hunger to that. His dad was waiting by the car. “Looks like you hit the deer full on,” he said, pointing to smears of blood where Jake had leant on the bonnet.

“Mind if I drive?” asked Julian, needing to keep active to keep his mind off Mia. Robert shook his head. As he got into the car, Julian quickly laid his jacket over the bloodstains on the backseat.

On the way to the factory, Robert said, “So tell me about these ideas.”

“Um, erm, well, err,” stammered Julian, wracking his brain for something, anything, to offer his dad. “I was thinking we need a new website.”

“The current site’s only a couple of years old.”

“I know, but web design moves fast, the site looks dated, and it’s awkward to navigate.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Robert cautiously agreed. “But I thought we were looking to reduce costs.”

“If we build a new site and hype it, I’m sure it’ll pay for any capital invested.”

“Okay. Look into it. See how much it’ll cost.”

At the factory, Robert showed Julian to a room adjacent to his office that’d been used to store files and other clutter, but which now contained a desk, chair, computer and phone. “How do you like it?” he asked, watching his son eagerly for approval of what he’d done.

“It’s great,” said Julian, trying to keep the sinking feeling out of his voice.

Robert patted him on the shoulder. “I’d better get back to it. If you need me, you know where I am.”

Julian moved behind the desk and sat down. He stared at his reflection in the monitor, thinking, this is it, this is the next thirty or forty years of your life. He pictured what he’d look like after all those years — rounded shoulders, double-chin, red-rimmed eyes, face as pale and lumpy as fungus. The image would’ve bothered him more if his head hadn’t been so full of Mia. He tried to redirect his thoughts, booting up the PC, browsing through lists of web designers, even phoning for a couple of quotes. But Mia’s face continually rose into his mind, blotting out everything else. He kept seeing her in that hometown girl getup. Against his will, he kept seeing her doing the things Ginger had said she’d done. He couldn’t shake the images. They picked him up and carried him out of the office, carried him all the way to his dad’s car. He still had the keys. He drove away from the factory fast with all the windows down, letting air wash over him like a cold shower.

Feeling calmer and cleaner, he phoned Tom Benson and said, “I thought you were going to call me.”

“I was, but I also happen to be running a major investigation into a missing girl,” the policeman responded curtly. “Anyway, you’ll be relieved to know that no charges regarding last night’s little escapade will be pressed at this time.”

Julian wasn’t relieved. He couldn’t have cared less. All he cared about right then was Mia. “Did you search the house?”

“I had no right or reason to search it.”

“But what about what Ginger said?”

“I thought we discussed this. Besides, I’ve not been able to get hold of Ginger to speak to.”

That gave Julian a bad feeling. “Maybe Mr X has got her.”

Tom Benson’s breath hissed into the phone. “If I hear that name one more time, I’m hanging up. Ginger’s probably not at home because she’s terrified you and Jake will come after her again.”

Julian doubted that. If Mr X didn’t have her, it was more likely she’d be out looking for him and Jake with Bull and the other Outlaws. He glanced in the rear-view mirror, half-expecting to see a string of lowriders in pursuit, but the forest road was empty. “So you’re not going to do anything?”

“Not unless Ginger corroborates your story. And she’s more likely to put you in jail than do that.” A warning note entered the detective’s voice. “Remember what I said, Julian. You’re treading on very thin ice. Slip up again and there’ll be nothing I can do for you.”

“I realise that, thanks.”

Julian slowed to turn into the lane. When he reached the gate, the dog was there. It didn’t bark, but rolled its eyes at him as if to say, not you again. He pressed the intercom button. As before, after a minute or so, the intercom crackled into life. And again, as before, no voice came over it, but he could sense a presence on the other end of the line, a background sound that might’ve been static or might’ve been breath clicking faintly in a throat. Emulating as best he could his dad’s sharp but sincere business voice, he said, “That was clever going to the police like that, but unnecessary. This has nothing to do with them. It’s a business transaction, pure and simple. I’ll give you however much money you want, and you’ll give me Mia. No one will say anything to anyone, you have my word. I don’t care about what goes on here. All I want is Mia.”

The intercom’s silence roared at Julian. It didn’t scare him as it had previously, it only made him more determined. “How about I double whatever Mia owes you,” he offered. However much it turned out to be — five thousand, fifty thousand — he’d find a way to raise it, even if it meant stealing from the business accounts.