The bus, Damien had said, and I recall that expression of pride on his face when he’d patted the chest of his jacket, assuring me that our future was safely packed away in there. Faith, if I am to take that bus, I must take the money from within my beloved’s coat.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I weep, gently lifting his left shoulder up and out of the way so I can reach inside his coat. I walk my fingers over his chest, meaning to be quick, but—Oh, God in Heaven! How can I leave him? My bloodied hand is enveloped by the heat that will soon leave his body. But the siren is singing closer now. I am running out of time. I find his pocket, and my fingers touch the money sack he’d been carrying. I draw it out, then just like Mr. Carboni’s horrible black notebook I drop it down the front of my dress. ’Tis secure there.
I lay Damien’s face gently down, but not the way I’d found it. I turn his head to the side so I can see him once more, and so the sunlight can as well. I see the soft lashes on his ruined cheek. I see a splash of freckles that have not been obscured by blood. His lips have been smashed into his teeth. They’re open and destroyed beneath the waste of his nose. I lean in and kiss them anyway, but they do not kiss me back. They never will again.
What’s for you won’t pass you by, I hear Granny say. Maybe not, Granny, but it’s been torn away all the same.
I stand and cradle my stomach in my hands. The bump beneath my skirt is only just starting to show, but to me it is so much more than that. There’sa tiny heart beating within me, sure and it’s half mine, half Damien’s. I grieve for the three of us. Damien will never see his child. Oh, how I hope this baby looks like him. Maybe it will be a boy, with his impish smile.
“I will be your mother and your father,” I promise. “I will love you twice as much, my little one.” I gulp in a sob and point my old boots in the direction of the bus station. “Your father will be watching, and I’ll tell you now, we’ll be so grand he’ll wish he was with us. We must make him proud. Me and you, we’ll figure this out on our own.”
My mind shows me again the darkness of the tunnel. I see Bianca, and I imagine my necklace near her body. Both are lost to me, and I wonder if anyone will find her once I’m gone. And now Damien, with his handsome face and hale young body lying ruined on the metal rail, and I wonder who will come for him. Who will find him here?
I have no choice but to go. Once again, I must leave behind the one I love.
As I walk away, I add his name to my list of folks I will never forget. Granny, Mrs. Evans, Bianca, and now my beloved. All stolen from me, all leaving great, gaping holes in my heart. I am not the same without them. I never will be again. Ahead is the bus stop. Ahead of that, I don’t know. But I’m on my own now. ’Tis up to me to find out who I’m meant to be next.
BRIDGET KELLY2024
chapterTHIRTY-FIVE
There’s a knock on the door.
“Door’s open,” Matthew calls on his way to the kitchen.
Louis strides in, sure of himself. He acknowledges me, then sits across the table. “Good morning, Miss Kelly.”
“Bridget, please. Good morning to you, Louis.”
He glances up, a perpetual frown on his face, as Matthew returns with coffee for Louis and me. Louis takes his black as I do, which doesn’t surprise me. He drinks immediately and doesn’t flinch, which is pretty impressive. That’s boiling water right there. Matthew disappears back into the kitchen, then comes out with his own steaming, cream-diluted mug.
“I have some interesting findings to share,” Louis reports, diving right in. He extracts a thick file from his bag and places it in front of us. It’s a much thicker file than I could have expected after only a day.
“That was quick,” I note.
“Pulled in a few favours,” Louis tells us. He leans forward and taps a piece of paper. “We’ll start here.”
It’s a bank statement. I read the top line. “This is Claudia’s,” I marvel, wondering how legal any of this is, on either side.
“Sometimes perps are just plain lazy,” he mutters, disapproval clear in his tone. “Didn’t even try to hide this.”
I see columns of numbers, but I don’t understand. Matthew is reading them beside me, and from the way he’s concentrating, I can tell he does.
“Somebody care to explain?” I ask.
Matthew’s finger skims down the page. “See all these basic withdrawals and deposits? There are a few here and there that don’t fit.”
He’s right. There are far too many zeros in those spots, and I’m a little embarrassed I didn’t see that before.
“Your boss has been taking bribes,” Louis says flatly. “And if you look back, she’s been doing it for years.” He slides the statements to the side and places a new stack of pages in their place. “Now, these are some of Claudia Vale’s incriminating texts and messages—”
“Wait. How did you get her private texts and messages?” I ask, alarmed. “Is that legal?”
Louis taps his temple. “I have my sources.” He does not address the legality question, just points at the words on the page. “Feast your eyes.”
There are a half dozen or so communications between various contractors and Claudia, I see right away. I don’t recognize all the contractors, but her responses are pure Claudia. They’re similar in tone to what she sends me, except mine never hint at anything illegal. These ones are more than a little frightening.
CV: Make sure it clears. No more delays.
