The Trust

Chapter 44: Rob

This was all Kat's fault. It was her idea, first to liquidate her elderly father's bank accounts, then pull off that scheme at her workplace. We had to leave Florida because of that one. But my family was the last straw. They weren't senile, retired judges like her dad or wealthy Florida seniors. The woman was relentless and I was weak. We have no choice, she said. It's either that, or I leave. I couldn't lose her, not then. She was my world. 

I resisted because I knew how much it would hurt the family. I only thought of them. But in the end, she had her way. 

We came here, used the last few dollars we had from her father to splash around my family, rent out helicopters and the inn to pitch the idea; proof of wealth. It felt good in those moments, walking around in my thousand-dollars suit, promising them the world. For a moment, I thought it was real. 

Then the money started trickling in. We had to pay them out a little bit to keep them interested, and believing us. It wasn't enough to save the house; I told Kat the family didn't have much but she insisted if her family had paid up then so should mine. Once we lost the house, things went into free fall. We stayed with her cousin for awhile, until we came up with the investment scheme for the town. More money came in, a thin stream, not a flood. It was never enough. When the money ran out, so did Kat. I think she went back to her home town in Switzerland, who knows. She left me all alone to face up to everyone, try and make amends for what I'd done. WE had done. Cold hearted bitch. 

Now I've lost everything. My kids won't speak to me, I can't see my grandkids, maybe not ever again. In the end, it was either the fishing shack or the streets. Oh, how they'd all laugh if they saw me now, putting pots and bowls around the place to catch the endless stream of water; never being warm, eating tins of tuna fish night after night. They'd say I deserved it, which isn't true. I don't deserve any of this. I was only trying to make my wife happy, and brighten people's day. You've never seen such happy people; anyone told they're coming into a fortune are the happiest people on earth. I made that happen. Me.

But that's not the worst part. 

It's Jack. I see him everywhere, not just in the middle of the night, although that's the worst time. The time when he comes and sits on the end of the bed and just stares at me. Always at 3 am, it doesn't matter if I squeeze my eyes shut, or cover my head with the blankets, the moment the clock strikes 3, I can feel the weight of him sit down, so close to my legs I can barely suppress a scream. He won't leave until I look at him, until his eyes meet mine. It's like he knows how awful it is to look him in the eye, how his expression torments me. Not fear, or even anger. Just raw pity; it's a look that I can't bear.

I stole the gun from one of the seniors in Florida and smuggled it across the border back into Canada. I came to the shack with a plan, but sadly I didn't have the guts to go through with it. But it's there, in the rickety cupboard by the sink, if I ever need it. Every day I contemplate using it on myself, but I'm too much of a coward. I think about it though from time to time.

Like right now, with my niece prattling on and on. Who does she think she is to come here and lecture me. I've never been anything but good to those girls, the ones my brother abandoned. I've always had a crush on Annie, for a while after Joseph left I tried to take his place, spending a ton of money on the girls at Christmas, only for her to reject me. I would have been good to them, better than my deadbeat brother. But Annie turned me down flat, said I was too young for her. She even laughed. That's why I included them in this little scheme. Nobody is laughing now. 

The more Darcey talked, the more my hand itched to open the cupboard door and take out the gun. Not to use it of course — I'm not a monster. Just to scare her a little; make her leave. I actually went to the cupboard, but when I turned around to ask her about her tea I nearly jumped out of my skin. 

Jack was there; sitting right beside her. This time, his expression was different. It was pure, adulterated rage. My fingers brushed against the barrel of the gun and I longed to feel the weight of it in my palm, how I could control things by just holding it. But nothing I did could move Jack from his spot, or take his eyes off me. So I left the gun alone and continued the conversation, until a knock on the door startled us both. 

The Priest.

He sent Darcey away, thank God, and came in. My nerves were already rattled by the lightening storm, from the sounds of it, the storm was directly overhead and made a spooky soundtrack to our conversation.

"You finally going to hear my confession?" I asked, pouring him a cup of tea.

"If you want to talk, I'll listen." He shrugged. Smug bastards.

"I already went through the whole thing, what makes this time different?"

"Try me," he said, sitting back in his chair. His expression was unreadable. I slid a hot cup of tea over to him and we faced each other like gunslingers. 

I hesitated, something telling me to be careful. "Don't we need to be in a confession box?"

"A priest can be anywhere and hear confession," he shrugged, taking a sip.

"Do you want sugar?" I asked, mindful of my manners.

"No thank you. Milk is fine," he said. 

We waited. I decided it was too risky, so I clammed up. I imagined he'd get bored very soon and leave. 

But then I saw Jack again. He was in the corner this time, out of the light and back into the shadows. His eyes were glowing. I had to get rid of him or risk losing my sanity.

I told the priest everything, again. When I was finished, I was angry. No more games.

"I did what you said, now forgive my sins."

"I can't," he said, sipping his tea. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. 

"I'm sorry for everything, OK? I'm truly repentant. You have to forgive me — what kind of a priest are you, anyway?"

"I'm not a priest," he said nonchalantly. That's when I heard the sirens.

"Wh-what did you say?"

"I'm not a priest anymore. And you've just confessed to murder."

"Since when?"

"Since today at around 4 o'clock. I'm just an ordinary citizen and I'll be telling the cops everything you just told me."

I've never hated anyone so much in all my life. I thought again about the gun, safely tucked away in the cupboard. I could shoot this motherfucker and he wouldn't be telling anything to anyone. Or, I could end things for myself. It would be easy.

As the sirens go louder, I saw Jack emerge from the shadows. He was taller this time, and moved with a terrible shuffle. Skin was peeling from his face and his clothing was in tatters. I'd never seen him like this before. And he was getting closer to me.

"Do you see it?" I pointed at him. Jake looked behind his shoulder. "See what?"

"It's right there, you fool. Right beside you!" 

Jack shuffled past Jake's shoulder and came closer. He raised a bony finger in my direction. A scream formed deep in my belly and before I could stop it, came roaring out of me. If he touched me, I thought I might go mad. I bolted from the table and out the door just in time to see the cops in the driveway. Darcey or the priest must have called them.

By this time, I didn't care. I was soaked to the skin and trembling, my mind was shattered and I had no where left to run. It was over. 

Maybe now I could sleep.