If my hunch was right, Rob would be there and probably attack, like a feral animal. But I don't want anyone else to be hurt by this — one way or another, it ends tonight.
Heart pounding, I slip out of bed and glance outside. The rain freezes in silver slashes as soon as it hits the windows, like a thousand tiny knives.
I know where Uncle Rob is and something is pulling me to him — and telling me to go alone.
The idea is incredibly dumb, but I can't shake it. After I let a hot cup of tea go cold on the kitchen table, lost in thought, I say to hell with it, pull on a warm sweater, jeans and rain gear. I make sure my phone is charged and as an afterthought, slip a small steak knife into my purse. I shiver although the kitchen is warm and fear prickles the skin at the back of my neck at the thought of having to use it, especially on a family member. But the night holds many secrets and something tells me I need all the protection I can get. As an afterthought, I take a rosary from my mom's purse and put it around my neck, saying a swift prayer for protection.
On the edge of town, high up on the side of Widow's Mountain there's an abandoned fishing shack. I remember my father and Uncle Rob taking me there when I was a kid to try and teach me how to fish. We went out on a boat and I got my line all tangled up. Dad was drinking, and he and Rob got into a heated argument and it scared me. I thought they were mad at me for tangling up my fishing line. When I told them, they looked at each other and laughed and the tension died down. After that, they started telling me old family stories, like the one about my great grandmother, who used to cover all the mirrors in a lightening storm. I caught a fish that day, to my great surprise. Later, I found out my father brought a small trout along from the supermarket and put it on my hook when my back was turned.
I pull up the narrow driveway just as a few streaks of light started to glow in the east. The shack is barely standing but still there, lit from within by the glow of lamplight. It had to be either Uncle Rob or a serial killer's lair, deep in the woods. Feeling foolish, I pull out my phone and call Jake. He picks up on the first ring.
"What are you doing up?"
"What are you doing calling me?" He doesn't sound sleepy at all.
"I think I found Rob. He's in the old hunting shack on Widow's Mountain, up the Coldbrook road."
"Why are you going alone?"
"I need to talk to this guy, I have to find out why he did what he did."
"You know he's going to be like a cornered rat."
"I know that. Listen, if you don't hear from me in 10 mins, call 911 and get them up here."
"But Darcey—"
"Just do it, OK?" I whisper and click off my phone. I write a text message: Stand down. All good and set it up so I could send it quickly, hoping things go as planned and I can send it. As if on cue, the door to the shack opens and my uncle steps out into the night. He looks like he aged 20 years since I last saw him.
"Well, come in if you're coming in," he says, leaving the door ajar.
I try and calm my frazzled nerves. Here we go.
The filthy shack had changed very little since I was a kid. "This place isn't fit for a dog," I mutter, walking in. I hold my coat together and shiver. Rain drips in from the holes in the roof; he had placed tin cans and buckets everywhere to catch the water.
"Yeah well, beggars can't be choosers. Cup of tea?" He walks like an old man, shuffling and bent at the waist. I can't tell if it's real or an act now that he's been caught.
Even the most vile Cape Bretoner will still offer you tea on a rainy night.
"No thank you. You're coming with me, Rob."
He chuckles, putting the kettle on to boil.
"Oh yeah? And where to, Bossy Boots?"
"To the police." That made him laugh even more.
"Why? I've done nothing wrong. Everyone who gave me money did so of their own free will. I didn't steal anything."
"No, but you manipulated vulnerable seniors out of their small pensions and others out of their savings. Your own family — your own kids for Christ's sake. You fed them a lot of bullshit and took their last dime. How could you do that?"
He slams his cup on the rickety table, causing me to jump. "All I ever wanted to do was make everybody happy," he roars. "I just wanted to help people."
I'm dumbfounded. "How can stealing from people make them happy?"
He shakes his head, turning away. "You don't understand. I'm the one who's always looked after this family, loaned them money over the years, yet I'm always on the outside looking in. The outsider — the black sheep of the family. That's what I was and it's all I'll ever be. Look, I'm not in the mood for conversation. It's best if you go."
None of his rant made any sense. Everyone loved him before this mess. "Where is Kat?" I change tactic to try and get him to keep talking. While his back is turned, set my phone voice memo app to record.
With that, his back stiffens. "She had a... a medical emergency. In New York."
I laugh; I can't help it. "Come on. Not another New York heart attack. Admit it, she left you when the money ran out, right?"
He glares in my direction. "And where's your husband? That dolt, Clive. I always thought you were a smart girl but you wasted your life with that good for nothing creep."
"Yes I did," I say, taking the wind out of his sails. If he's trying to hurt me with that particular revelation, he's going to be disappointed. He's not telling me anything I don't know.
"We're talking about you. Was it worth it? All the damage you caused? How much money did you end up with? Can't be much, since you're living in a literal shack. How the mighty have fallen, eh? From helicopters, limos and New York penthouses to this?" I look around at the dripping ceiling. The sky is starting to lighten outside the cracked and peeling windows.
"What do you want, kid? It's late and I'm tired."
"I want to know why. And if it was worth it in the end. Since you rolled into town, you've caused divorces, bankruptcies and death. The family is torn apart, people are no longer speaking. We'll never be the same. And all for what? A few thousand dollars you didn't even end up with anyway. Did she take everything from you?"
In a rare display of honesty, he glanced at the window and I saw a slight nod.
"Well now you know what everyone else feels like."
"Say what you want and then get out."
"You're coming with me back to the police station and you're confessing to everything."
He snorts. "The hell I am. I did nothing wrong. "
"I'm not leaving without at least a confession," I say, standing up.
"Then, you'll be here for a very long time." He faces me just as lightening flashes across the sky and a loud clap of thunder startles us both. A loud knock at the door follows, and Rob's face turns ashen.
The rotting door bangs open in the storm and Father Jake stands in the doorway as another peal of thunder crashes overhead.
"Darcey, could you wait in the car," he says, his eyes on Rob. "I think he'll talk to me."
YOU ARE READING
The Trust
General Fiction*COMPLETE* A trusted relative has come into money - more than he can ever spend in several lifetimes. And he wants to share it with you. You're part of a trust, due to receive a fortune - and soon. Life-changing money, the kind you only dream about...
