She lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank fuck because I couldn’t even tell you where he’s taken the kid.”
“What kid?” asks Faith.
“Xzavier,” she snaps, frowning. “Who are you again?”
“Concerned neighbours,” I cut in before Faith can answer. “We wanted to check on you because we hadn’t seen you for a while, so we came over yesterday and noticed you weren’t feeling well. We gave the place a little clean, I hope you don’t mind.” I take the hot pie from Faith and hold it out. “We got you some food.”
Carol eyes it warily before taking it. “It smells good.”
“It’s the best.” I hand her a plastic knife and fork we brought with us.
She takes a seat at the table and begins tucking into the pie. I hand her a bottle of water. “So, you live round here?” she asks through mouthfuls of food, and I nod. “I ain’t seen you before and I’ve been here a long time.”
“We just moved in . . . a few months ago. Do you have any more kids apart from Xzavier?”
“Yeah, a grown one.”
“How old?” I ask, busying myself with putting the other food items away.
“Hudson is thirty-something, thirty-five maybe, and Xzavier is sixteen.”
“Wow, big age gap,” says Faith, smiling. “How do they feel about one another?”
“They don’t know each other. You sure you’re not cops?” She narrows her eyes suspiciously.
“No. Is there anything you need?” I ask.
She pushes the plate away, only half eating the pie. “I could use some cash,” she mutters, looking away.
“Sorry, I’m all out. What do you need? Maybe I can get it for you next time.”
“I just needed some toiletries,” she lies.
“We got you covered,” says Faith, pointing to the bag on the side. “There’s some clothes in there too.”
“Like Mary fucking Poppins,” mutters Carol bitterly.
“We should go,” I say, taking Faith’s arm. “We’ll call again soon.”
Outside, Faith drags me behind a wall. “I can hear a motorbike,” she hisses, and sure enough, the rumbling engine pulls onto the street, stopping outside Carol’s.
“Shit, he’s here?”
“Did he say he’d seen her?”
I shake my head. “It was cryptic. He didn’t mean to mention her to me.”
“We need to go before he sees us. Are you going to tell him he has a brother?” she asks, and I shrug. I just wanted to help, but now I feel like this is getting out of hand.
GRIM
I stare at Mum. She’s up and about, and the place is spotless. I follow her into the kitchen. “Everything okay?” I ask, wiping my finger along the clean countertop.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Just . . .well, I haven’t seen you up and about for a long time.”
“Maybe you come at the wrong time.”
I open a cupboard door and frown at the tinned food stacked neatly inside. “You went shopping?”
“Yes. I do eat.”
“I thought you didn’t have money?”
She sighs with irritation. “I didn’t, and you didn’t give me any either, if I remember correctly. In fact, you never do. So, why do you care if I’ve been to the supermarket?”
“Of course, I care. I offer to get you food, but you never take it.”
“I’m a grown woman. I can do my own shopping. Why are you here, Hudson?” I hate how she questions me like I shouldn’t be here. This was once my home too.
“I’m just checking in, Mum. It’s what normal families do, check on one another.”
She scoffs. “Because we’re so normal. If you want to help, I need money for bills.”
And there it is, the quest for her next fix yet again. “Whatever. If you have bills, hand them to me and I’ll go pay. I’m not giving you money to spend on drugs.”
“Look at this place,” she snaps. “I’ve changed. I’m getting help.”
“You don’t change in less than forty-eight hours. I gotta go,” I mutter, stomping out.
As I start my bike, Mav calls my phone. “Yep?” I answer.
“You wanna do some good?”
“Does it involve Arthur Taylor?”
He laughs. “No. I’ll text you the address. Meet me in ten.”
Mav meets me at the end of the road of the address he texted to me. I turn off my bike and remove my helmet. “See that house?” he asks, pointing to a large house on the end. “The shelter got a call from a woman they’ve been supporting. She was asking for help but got cut off. They think the husband came home and caught her using a phone she’d hidden from him. The police can’t get anyone out to do a welfare check for another hour at least. I thought you’d wanna do something good, get back to what we came here for.” I nod. Doing shit like this helps me feel better.
We step off our bikes, leaving them at the end of the road in case of nosy neighbours. As we step closer, I notice the house is quiet. There’s no screaming or shouting, but as we approach the door, there’s the faint sound of a baby crying. We can’t take a baby on our bikes, so Mav sends off a text to the prospect back at the clubhouse, telling him we’ll need more appropriate transport.
I knock on the door and then ring the doorbell. We wait a second before it’s ripped open and an angry-looking man in a suit glares at us. “What?” he barks. I run my eyes over him, taking in his shortness of breath and the way his chest heaves with the exertion. His fists are curled tightly, and his hair is stuck to his forehead where sweat beads linger.
“We were in the area—” Mav begins.
“Not today,” the man hisses, pushing the door to close it.
I stick my boot in at the last minute and the door bounces back. “Actually, today, right this second, is perfect,” I say, adding a smile.
“Can’t you hear my child crying. I need to attend to her.”
“Can’t your wife do that?” asks Mav.
“She isn’t here,” he hisses.
“Oh . . . see, that makes no sense because we were told she was,” I say, suddenly shoving the door hard and gaining entry. It takes him by surprise and he has no time to react as I step into the large hallway. My boots crunch on the broken glass of a vase which lays in pieces, its contents spread across the wooden floor. “Is she this way?” I ask, pointing to the living room.
“I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’m calling the police,” he yells angrily, stepping in front of me and blocking my path.
“Do that,” suggests Mav.
“They’re already on their way, so it might hurry them along,” I add.
He visibly swallows, and for the first time since we arrived, he looks worried. “Why are the police coming?”
“First, because they wanted to help your wife, who I think might be in that room,” I say, pointing again to the living room. “But now, they might have to arrest me because if I find what I think I’m going to, I’ll hurt you.”