Page 110 of Ink's Devil

Mom turns her eyes on me. “Could always tell when you were lying, Phil. So, tell me straight. Did you tell Connor to leave drugs in my house?” She pulls the phone away from her ear and even from the other side of the room I can hear a voice blustering. “No, they’re not here now. No, I don’t know where they are or who’s got them…. I’m ending this call now.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t turn up to the funeral…”

“Well of course I fucking am. I’m off to the funeral home tomorrow morning.”

“No, I won’t tell you which one. I’m burying a son because he became involved with you and your business.”

Determinedly, her finger hits the button to end the call.

She stands, staring off into space. A minute, then another passes, before she turns to face me. “You could be right, Bethany. Or you could be wrong. Your dad’s been given the same story, and I can tell he doesn’t believe it. He’s as angry as I’ve ever heard him.”

My brow becomes creased. “So why all that crap about the funeral?”

“Because, it wasn’t remorse and grief that I heard in his voice. Because if Connor is alive, I’m frightened for him.”

My eyes widen. “You think Phil would hurt his own son?”

My question gives her pause. “Phil left and didn’t look back.” Her face twists. “Look, you were young when he left, I don’t know how much you remember of him?”

“Not a lot,” I admit. “He wasn’t exactly involved in my life.” As a kid I used to try to get his attention, pitiful looking back. I couldn’t remember ever being successful.

“I married him when I got pregnant and he stepped up and accepted his responsibilities. It wasn’t long before I realised my mistake, but stayed with him for the sake of you, and then when Connor came along, him too. But your dad had problems. He found it hard to relate to other people, empathy was something he was lacking. He could be cruel without intending it. I had a comfortable life, he wasn’t overly demanding, and I could mostly turn a blind eye to his behaviour. Until he discovered there was easy money to be made and I could no longer deny he was the only one that mattered in his world, a true narcissist.”

It starts to come together. “Crime was okay because he didn’t care who he was hurting?”

She raises and lowers her chin. “Exactly. That’s why I didn’t give a damn that he forgot he had children.”

“And why you were so concerned about Connor going to him.”

“Phil’s got an overblown view of his own intelligence and abilities. A confidence which he uses to make other people believe him. He would have seemed a good role model to an impressionable boy. He was well able to lay on the charm when he needed to.” Her eyes close as if in pain. “I couldn’t stop Connor when he became an adult. But I always expected—hoped—eventually Connor would see through him and realise Phil wouldn’t care who he hurt if someone stood in the way between him and making a profit.”

Her eyes meet mine. They signal something that chills me.

“You believe he’d hurt Connor?”

“I know Phil. Well, knew him. In that phone call just now, he wasn’t upset Connor was dead, he was upset he’s lost him. If he believes Connor’s dead, he’ll stop looking for him and he can’t hurt him.” She waves her hand as I go to speak. “He blustered about the heroin, I don’t think Connor had told him that here was where it was hidden.”

“But those men…”

“Might not have been Phil’s. Maybe there were working for Alder. Alder could have tortured the truth out of him.” Mom closes her eyes as though it’s too painful even to think of that, but it’s the truth. I’dheardConnor in pain. “I have difficulty believing the Devils wish us harm. Look how they’ve left Dirt and Nails here to protect us. Look how proud Mel is of her man. And you, are you such a poor judge of character to get mixed up with a man who’d kill someone for gain?”

“Ink took the heroin off of me, Mom. He knew the cops were there. Only a good man would do that.” Or a foolish one. I’ll never forget what he did, or the debt I owe him. “If Connor’s alive and the Devils are keeping him that way, I don’t think they’d harm him.” I drop my head into my hands. “Nothing about any of this makes sense!” I almost scream.

Mom rushes over and puts her arms up. Leaning down, I hug her as best I can. We stand, like that, for a moment.

“If Connor’s alive and the Devils are lying, then, maybe they’re doing it to save him. If Phil’s bad, Alder’s worse, Bethany. If Connor’s crossed them, he won’t be safe.”

“We need to know the truth, Mom.” I know neither of us will rest easy until we do. I may be wrong to hope that my brother’s still breathing, if he’s gone, I need proof.

“Whatever they’re telling us, I want to view who’s inside the casket,” Mom says with determination. “If it’s Connor, I want to know.”

Suddenly I have doubts that I’m right to give my mom hope. Maybe I’m wrong, and my refusal to believe it, simply that. “It could be bad, Mom. What if it is him? What if the last memory we have of him is seeing him so hurt?”

“I said me, not you, Bethany,” she says firmly. “You remember Connor how he was. I’m his mother. It’s my job.” That’s when she starts weeping again. I might have given her hope, but even after everything we’ve said, when the funeral home opens tomorrow, I could find out Mace had told us the truth.

Is this feeling that the enforcer is lying simply my denial that I’ve seen my brother for the last time?

No, no, no, and no.

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