Linwood Barclay - Broken Promise - A Thriller

Finley Springs Water.

He blinked a couple of times to be sure he was reading that correctly. What the hell was Randall Finley’s van doing parked out front of his house? Was that actually the same van that had been there the night before?

Had Randy been waiting to talk to him last night and returned this morning?

He skipped shaving. Duckworth ran his fingers through his hair, dressed hurriedly, not bothering with a tie, which he could do after breakfast, and followed the smell of brewing coffee to the kitchen below.

“It’s ready,” Maureen said when he came into the room.

“What’s Randall Finley doing here?”

“What?” she said.

“Finley, you know — first-class asshole, former mayor? That Finley?”

“I know who you mean. He’s here?”

“His van’s parked across the street. I think it’s been there all night. Was he hiding under our bed?”

“You got me. We’ve been having an affair for the last six months.”

Duckworth stared at her and waited.

Maureen smiled, let out a short laugh. “That’s not Finley’s van. I mean, yes, it belongs to his company, but Trevor’s got it.”

“Why would our son have Finley’s van?”

“I’m sure it’s not the only van Finley owns,” Maureen said. “The man probably has a small fleet of them. You could hardly run a bottled-water company with just one van.”

“That’s not the question,” Duckworth said, growing more impatient with each passing second. “Why is our son driving that man’s truck?” He paused. “And why is it here ?”

“Trevor paid me a little surprise visit last night,” Maureen said. “I mean, he was coming to visit both of us, but you ended up working late. He’s upstairs, asleep, although he’ll probably be down any minute. He has to be at work at seven thirty.”

“Our son is working for Finley?”

Maureen nodded enthusiastically. “I know! Isn’t it wonderful? He’s been going through such a bad patch. The breakup with Trish, trying to find work. Now he’s got this job and I think it’s doing wonders for him. I could see a real change in him. It’s taken him forever to move past losing that girl, and add to that being out of work, and—”

“He can’t work for that man,” Duckworth said, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“Now you’re talking like a crazy person,” his wife said, filling a cup with coffee and putting it in front of him. “Our son gets a job and you want him to quit?”

“What’s he doing for him?” he asked.

Maureen put a fist on her hip. “You’re the detective. There’s a truck on the street, filled with cases of bottled water. Trevor has the key, which allows him to take this truck anywhere he pleases. I’ll wait while you put it together.”

There was noise on the floor above them. Trevor’s old bedroom, where he hadn’t lived for a couple of years. He was getting up.

“He was sorry to have missed you last night,” she said.

“I’ll just bet he was.”

“But at least you get a chance to see him this morning.” When Duckworth said nothing, she continued. “Don’t you be negative about this. Don’t go bursting his bubble.”

“I’m not going to be negative. I just want to know how he ended up working for that asshole.”

“That’s the spirit,” she said.

“He should go back to school, learn a trade. Not drive a truck around for some blowhard.”

Trevor showed up a minute later, his hair suggestive of some sort of electrocution. He had on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. He gave his mother a kiss. “Thought I’d grab some breakfast before I get dressed,” he said to her. He looked at his father and smiled as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“What’s going on with you and Finley?” Duckworth asked.

“Good morning to you, too, Dad,” he said.

“When’d you start working for him?”

“A week ago,” he said.

“How’d that come about?”

“I saw an ad online. He was looking for drivers; I applied; I got it. Is that a problem?”

“Your father and I are delighted,” Maureen said. “Is it part-time, full-time?”

“Full-time,” Trevor said. “It’s not a ton of money, but it’s better than what I was making before, which was a big fat zilch.”

“Does he know who you are?” his father asked.

“Uh, well, I filled out the application form with my name on it, so I would say that yes, he knows who I am.”

“That’s not what I mean. Does he know you’re my son?”

“ Our son,” Maureen said. “I don’t remember you making him alone.”

“Shit, I don’t know, probably,” Trevor said. “I mean, he probably told me at some point to say hello. So, hello.”

Duckworth shook his head.

“I don’t need this,” Trevor said. “I’ll get something on the way.”

“Trev,” his mother said, but he didn’t stop. Maureen looked at her husband and said, “You can be a real horse’s ass at times. It’s not always about you.”

She set a bowl in front of him. He looked down at it.

“What is this?” he asked.

“That,” she said, “is fruit.”

When Barry heard the front door open and close, and looked out the window and saw Trevor Duckworth heading for the Finley Springs truck, he chased after him. Trevor was about to close the door when Duckworth, winded, caught up.

“Hey,” he said.

“What?” Trevor said.

“Just give me a second.” He took four deep breaths, then said, “I’m sorry.”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Listen to me. I’m glad you’ve got a job. It’s great. We’re glad to see you get something.”

Trevor, perched on the edge of the driver’s seat, said, “But?”

Duckworth couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, there’s always a but . Look, I’m not going to tell you to quit this job.”

“Like I’d have to if you did.”

“Yeah, I get that. You’re a grown man. You don’t have to do what your parents tell you. All I want to say is, watch your step around Finley.”

“It’s just a job, Dad. I’m delivering water.”

“Sure, that’s the job. But a guy like Finley... he always has an agenda. I had a run-in with him yesterday. He wanted something from me I wasn’t prepared to give.”

“What?” Trevor asked.

“An advantage. He wanted to use me to further his ambitions. Wanted me to snitch on others in the department. And I can’t help but wonder if he’d find an angle using you.”

“I just drive, Dad.”

“Okay. I’ve got one last thing I’ll say, and then I’ll shut up about it. Don’t ever compromise yourself with him. Keep your nose clean and don’t make mistakes. Because if he’s got something on you, I promise you, sooner or later, that son of a bitch will use it.”

Trevor’s eyelid fluttered.

“What?” Duckworth asked.

“Nothing,” Trevor said. “I hear ya. I gotta go or I’m going to be late.”

Duckworth stepped back, allowing Trevor to close the door. He started up the van, turned it around in their driveway, and took off up the street.

I popped in to see Ethan before he was out of bed, told him I had a lot of things to do today, and that he’d have to get himself to school. No ride.

“Okay,” he said.

“You feel better?” I asked. It was meant as a general question. Did he feel better about Carl, after their meeting the night before? After showing him Dad’s model railroad? And after getting the pocket watch back?

“My tummy’s okay this morning,” he said. So he’d taken the question more literally, but in a way, answered the question I thought I’d asked. If he wasn’t feigning illness, and wasn’t anxious about attending school, then maybe he did feel better about things generally.