left for the Marines at seventeen. But once they too passed away – Annabel nine years ago and Tom a year
after – Amy told him she had no emotional attachmentto the place and would sign it over to him if he wanted. Instead, Bishop
asked her to place it in her name for as long as he remained in a high risk profession, if only for simplicity’s sake. He’d
take sole ownership himself once he felt the time was right. After much debate, Amy finally agreed.
Today was where it might pay off in his favour. Had his namebeen on the paperwork the cops would have assigned an army to
watch over it. The fact that two locals were deemed enough suggested they were merely covering bases. That’s what he was hoping,
anyway.
SIXTEEN
Bishop walked to the paved patio at the rear of the house. Each concrete slab measured twenty inches by twenty. He counted
them off from where they met the east fence. Seven to the right, four down. And stopped at the one with the small chip in
the top right corner.
He went over to pick up the shovel and insertedit between the cracks. The metal bent a little under the strain but held tight.
It took four goes before he got enough leverage to pry the stone block out. Embedded in the earth underneath was a rectangular
object about the size of a hardback book, wrapped in a layer of protective plastic sheeting.
Removing the sheeting, Bishop opened the blank DVD case.Seeing it again felt odd. He’d always had it there, just in case,
but had hoped he’d never have to use what it held. The feeling hardened into a familiar anger. Followed by the same resolve:
to find the person who had taken his old life away from him.
He pulled out the bundle of bank notes held together by an elastic band and added it to the remains of Brendan’smoney in
his pocket. He didn’t need to count it. There would be five thousand dollars, just like there had been six years ago. Taped
to the inside of the case were two keys. He replaced the stone slab.
Unlocking the rear door, he entered the bare kitchen and walked through the equally spartan dining room. The downstairs smelled
faintly of old carpetcleaner with a hint of bleach. He didn’t stop to check anything, instead climbing the stairs near the
front of the house.
Bishop never expected to feel anything when he came back here. Memories of his parents had faded to the point where he had
to concentrate to bring up their faces, although he still remembered the day he learned of their deaths in a roadaccident.
It had been the evening of his tenth birthday, the last one he ever celebrated. From that point on, he’d reasoned that if
he couldn’t control the fates of those he loved, he’djust have to be more discerning about who he let inside. Amy excepted, of course.
The following years spent under the care of Tom and Annabel had only enforced that belief.At least Amy, six years older,
only had to put up with them for a year before taking off for college. Bishop had been glad for her. He knew she’d stay in
close contact and make regular visits, and that was enough for him. But he’d have to wait another six years before he could
escape, too.
He guessed the fact that they seemed to show more affectionfor this house than for their own blood explained his mixed feelings
for the place. And Amy’s negative ones. Thing was, he knew this would make a perfect family home for somebody. Just not him.
Not after his experiences here. And although he’d always enjoyed visiting Amy and her family whenever he got the chance, he
wasn’t sure he could handle one of his own. He wasn’tthe fatherly type. It occurred to him that maybe this was also partly
due to Tom and Annabel’s influence. Their general aloofness could have rubbed off on him more than he cared to admit. For
most of his adult life, he’d avoided letting anybody get too close and he couldn’t blame it all on his reaction to his parents’
deaths. It was no wonder Amy
after – Amy told him she had no emotional attachmentto the place and would sign it over to him if he wanted. Instead, Bishop
asked her to place it in her name for as long as he remained in a high risk profession, if only for simplicity’s sake. He’d
take sole ownership himself once he felt the time was right. After much debate, Amy finally agreed.
Today was where it might pay off in his favour. Had his namebeen on the paperwork the cops would have assigned an army to
watch over it. The fact that two locals were deemed enough suggested they were merely covering bases. That’s what he was hoping,
anyway.
SIXTEEN
Bishop walked to the paved patio at the rear of the house. Each concrete slab measured twenty inches by twenty. He counted
them off from where they met the east fence. Seven to the right, four down. And stopped at the one with the small chip in
the top right corner.
He went over to pick up the shovel and insertedit between the cracks. The metal bent a little under the strain but held tight.
It took four goes before he got enough leverage to pry the stone block out. Embedded in the earth underneath was a rectangular
object about the size of a hardback book, wrapped in a layer of protective plastic sheeting.
Removing the sheeting, Bishop opened the blank DVD case.Seeing it again felt odd. He’d always had it there, just in case,
but had hoped he’d never have to use what it held. The feeling hardened into a familiar anger. Followed by the same resolve:
to find the person who had taken his old life away from him.
He pulled out the bundle of bank notes held together by an elastic band and added it to the remains of Brendan’smoney in
his pocket. He didn’t need to count it. There would be five thousand dollars, just like there had been six years ago. Taped
to the inside of the case were two keys. He replaced the stone slab.
Unlocking the rear door, he entered the bare kitchen and walked through the equally spartan dining room. The downstairs smelled
faintly of old carpetcleaner with a hint of bleach. He didn’t stop to check anything, instead climbing the stairs near the
front of the house.
Bishop never expected to feel anything when he came back here. Memories of his parents had faded to the point where he had
to concentrate to bring up their faces, although he still remembered the day he learned of their deaths in a roadaccident.
It had been the evening of his tenth birthday, the last one he ever celebrated. From that point on, he’d reasoned that if
he couldn’t control the fates of those he loved, he’djust have to be more discerning about who he let inside. Amy excepted, of course.
The following years spent under the care of Tom and Annabel had only enforced that belief.At least Amy, six years older,
only had to put up with them for a year before taking off for college. Bishop had been glad for her. He knew she’d stay in
close contact and make regular visits, and that was enough for him. But he’d have to wait another six years before he could
escape, too.
He guessed the fact that they seemed to show more affectionfor this house than for their own blood explained his mixed feelings
for the place. And Amy’s negative ones. Thing was, he knew this would make a perfect family home for somebody. Just not him.
Not after his experiences here. And although he’d always enjoyed visiting Amy and her family whenever he got the chance, he
wasn’t sure he could handle one of his own. He wasn’tthe fatherly type. It occurred to him that maybe this was also partly
due to Tom and Annabel’s influence. Their general aloofness could have rubbed off on him more than he cared to admit. For
most of his adult life, he’d avoided letting anybody get too close and he couldn’t blame it all on his reaction to his parents’
deaths. It was no wonder Amy
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