BURDEN OF AN ANCIENT OATH Page 3

  The car made a U-turn in the street and drove back in the direction it came. I followed close behind at first, from the suburban areas of the outer city, back into New York. Had he managed to spot me? I don’t know, but his driving became more erratic in the city. He took sporadic turns and flew over every amber light possible. He dodged in and out of the late afternoon traffic as if it wasn’t there at all.

  I followed at first, keeping a good distance, but as we hit the main roads, it became unsafe to keep chasing.

  And when I finally lost him somewhere between one street and the next, I couldn’t believe it. I was so close to the man who threatened Jane Dench, and then I lost him. And without number plates on his car and nothing else to go by apart from the Impala, it was pointless.

  I’d never been so close but so far to something in my life. And I had no one to blame but myself.

  Chapter 6

  Gwen

  “Look, Jack, we all make mistakes. You can’t beat yourself up about this one,” I heard Lauren Becket’s familiar voice say. Soft and sweet, as always.

  Having entered through the Mercer Detective Agency’s front door, I was unsurprisingly met by no one. Not Lauren at her station, nor Aaron at his. Just an empty office filled with a cloud of smoke. I snickered at the thought of Jack Mercer quitting smoking.

  Everyone knew he had it in him, the stubborn old mule, but he enjoyed those Lucky Strikes far too much to give them up.

  “I was so close to him. How did I let this happen?” Jack replied.

  “It doesn’t matter. You can’t live in the past and let this eat away at you. There were no plates—you said it yourself. Everyone and their grandmother drives a Chevy Impala. To follow that thing through a city would be near-impossible,” Lauren replied, trying to calm him down.

  I walked through the office quietly, making my way towards the door. Jack was sitting in his chair, facing the cabinet behind him with Lauren’s back turned to me. I leaned against the doorframe and listened in—more out of curiosity than anything else, waiting to see how long it would take them to notice me.

  “All I had to do was follow,” Jack threw a wild fist into the armrest of his chair.

  “But you said he was driving crazy, right? Maybe he did spot you and wanted to get away. It’s easier for him to have no regard for anyone else’s life when he’s facing life in prison,” Lauren replied.

  “Is little Jacky feeling sorry for himself again?” I asked with a little giggle.

  Both he and Lauren spun around to look at me.

  “Gwen?” Jack asked, looking at me with squinted eyes as though I was an apparition.

  “In the flesh, babe,” I said, stepping deeper into his office.

  Looking at Jack, there was little change from when I last saw him. Tall, dark, handsome. His light brown hair always forced back neatly as if cut straight from the 1950s. The strong jawline, scars, and scrapes across his face, broad shoulders and dashing smile never changing.

  He was like a fine wine, getting better looking with every year that passed.

  “Nice to see you again, Gwen,” Lauren said, giving me a smile.

  “What’s nice to see is this old grump hasn’t had any effect on your radiant smile, Lauren,” I replied.

  Jack scoffed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Whatever put him in a lousy mood seemingly disappeared at the sight of me.

  “Oh, he’s not so bad,” Lauren chuckled. “You’ve just got to work around the rough edges and get to the softer side.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve seen all the hard and soft parts Jack has to offer.”

  Lauren laughed, knowing the history Jack and I shared. Being one of the very few privy to Jack’s personal life, there were no surprises that she knew we had a thing for each other once. But it all erupted when we realized that work had to come before personal matters. In our line of work, a life often hung in the balance.

  “Well, I’m guessing you’re not here for a personal chat. I’ll leave you two alone,” Lauren said, walking by me. I waited for her to step out and close the door before I continued.

  Taking a seat opposite Jack, I couldn’t help but smirk at how he was looking at me. Dumbfounded and grinning like a fool.

  “What’s got you so riled up?” I asked, kicking my feet up on the desk.

  “Just this case I’ve been working,” Jack shrugged, giving a little more information. We were the same in that way, rarely keen to share or let the other know of our faults. I supposed that was another reason why our relationship was doomed to fail before it even began.

  And that’s why it hit me so hard to be there that day.

  “Let’s not focus on any of that, though,” Jack pulled himself up, walking over to a cabinet. From it, he pulled two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. “What brings you here?”

  “Well, the same problem really. Just a case I’ve been working on,” a sigh escaped my lips. “You know I’m not the kind to ask for help, Jack, but I’m completely stumped on this one.”

  “Is that right? I never thought I’d see the day Gwen Sullivan knocked on my door for help,” he gave me a smile, pouring the drinks. He reached over the table with mine, leaving the cap off the bottle, knowing we’d be here a while.

  “It’s been days without any leads at all. It’s so cold at this point, I could swear it was made up.”

  “I know the struggle,” Jack replied, bringing the glass to his lips.

  I did the same.

  “Look, I can’t promise I’m going to be able to help at all, but tell me what’s going on and we can see if something comes of it. We’re both pretty good at this detective thing; I can’t imagine neither of us can figure something out,” Jack said, leaning back in his chair. It squeaked under his weight.

  “That’s the thing though, there’s not really much to say about it,” I replied, rooting through my shoulder bag and pulling out a stack of papers. “The family doesn’t have any idea of why they’re being targeted. They’re just…”

  “Receiving anonymous yet threatening letters?” Jack finished my sentence.

  Though he eyed the stack of notes in my hand, there was no way he could’ve known what I was going to say. Unless he was facing a very similar threat.

  “Either your deduction has gotten keener, or you’re facing a very similar problem,” I cocked a brow.

  “You wouldn’t believe it, but I guess destiny’s got other plans for us parting ways,” Jack shuffled inside one of his drawers before bringing a stack of his own papers out.

  They were the same off-white paper, with a brown tinge to them. Folded with the same crease and a name scrawled atop one side.

  “Now, ain’t that something,” I set my stack down on the table.

  “I’m guessing the name is Marilyn Crossley?” Jack asked. “I wouldn’t put it by her to hire a couple of detectives to sort this out, rather than just one. She seems wise enough to get a second opinion.”

  “Marilyn?” I sat on the name, long after Jack continued speaking. “No, the man who hired me is named Spencer Crossley. Or rather, Spencer Williamson, after his adoptive family.”

  “Same thing happened here. Jane Dench is the target, but someone knows her name isn’t Jane, but Marilyn. I’m sorry to say, you’re shit out of luck asking me for help,” Jack downed his drink.

  “It’s pretty clear what this means then, right? They’re siblings that got separated after their parents disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” Jack asked.

  “I use the term vaguely. Spencer didn’t have much to say about his folks, and it doesn’t look like anyone else can tell him anything, either.”

  “People don’t just disappear, especially not when two kids get put up for adoption. There has to be a reason for giving a kid up,” Jack steepled his fingers, leaning back once more. I could see him getting lost in thought, just like he used to.

  “Could’ve been doorstep drop-offs,” I added. It happened from time to time, where parents just left the kids o
n the doorsteps of orphanages. It wasn’t completely unbelievable, especially when considering how easily the parents vanished.

  “Sure, but that doesn’t give any reason for how their names don’t come up anywhere. By the looks of things, the Crossley family vanished off the face of the earth.”

  “I know, I had someone look into the lineage, and there’s just nothing. It’s like they were never there to begin with.”

  Jack shook his head, not speaking while he thought. After a while of internal deliberation, he shrugged his shoulders and let out a grim sigh. He looked up to me, shook his head, saying, “I do find it pretty peculiar that we somehow got the exact same case, only with two different people. What are the chances of something like that happening?”

  The change of subject was almost welcomed.

  “It’s crazy, right?” I replied. “I haven’t heard a word from you in half a decade, and now we’re brought together in these very odd circumstances. Must be fate trying to tell us something.”

  I felt the smile tugging at the corner of my lips. I could see it happening to Jack, all the same.

  “Well, it’s not much help right now, but why don’t we work on this one together?” Jack poured himself another glass of whiskey. “It’ll be like old times, the two of us kicking ass and taking names.”

  “I should warn you, I’ve only gotten better since the last time we worked together.” I gave him a wink. “I don’t want you to feel inferior.”

  He laughed, raising his glass up to mine.

  “Inferior? That would mean I had something over you at some point. And we all know you’re the brains of these operations.”

  “Then how can I say no to your offer?” I asked, clinking glasses with Jack. “Let’s kick ass and take names.”

  “Jack!?” I heard the sudden call come from behind.

  The door swung open with Aaron Hart standing in it. He was out of breath, but the second he saw me, his eyes went wide.

  “Gwen? Holy hell, good to see you again,” he said, but before I had the chance to reply, he continued. “But I really need to talk to Jack about something. It’s about a case we’re working on.”

  “Gwen’s going to be helping out. We can chat about it together,” Jack replied.

  “Right, good, because what I’ve found is something big. And it doesn’t look good…” Aaron’s grim tone set the tone for what was going to come next.

  And where I was happy to hear there was some kind of headway on this seemingly impossible case, it pained me not to get a few more minutes alone with Jack Mercer.

  Chapter 7

  Jack

  How surprising it was to be standing beside Gwen Sullivan, ready to tackle another case. Though we were both in the midst of what seemed to be an impossible case, I had to find joys in the little things. She wasn’t the kind to ask for help, no matter the task—nor was I. So, to think that when she got so stumped, I was the person to call, brought a smile to my face.

  That didn’t stop the case from taking a turn for the worst with her introduction. Now, there were two—a brother and a sister locked in a battle for survival. The chances of either knowing the other existed was near-impossible, I thought. Had Spencer Crossley known anything about his sister, Gwen would’ve heard about it.

  So, what then? The idea that they were twins sparked in my head. Both too young to remember, but Spencer could’ve been in his toddler years and still not recalled his youth and a sibling. She was a phantom part of his life, gone before she ever really existed. Now, years later, they were going to be brought together by this terrible tragedy.

  The parents were my biggest concern. From everything I heard and all Aaron’s searching, mother and father Crossley never existed to begin with. At least, until now, I suspected. He had to have had something to barge into the building, out of breath and excited to spill some news.

  All these thoughts struck me at once while I followed him from my office back to his work station just outside. Lauren came too without an invitation, but she never really needed one for anything anyway. She was always the pillar of the Mercer Detective Agency—both Aaron and I knew it.

  Gwen walked in front of me, her hips swaying with every step. Five years was a long time, but she never managed to lose her figure. It was pristine, perfect almost, only enhanced by her beautiful green eyes, rosy cheeks, and auburn hair. Even from behind, and without having to see, I knew she had an almost gleeful grin on her face. She knew I’d be looking; that’s why she put on a show with each step.

  Our history, for whatever it was, made way for a strong relationship. We were lovers once, partners in crime (fighting against it, rather), and the best of friends the world could imagine. If I was a simpler man, I’d have asked her to marry me. And if Gwen was a simpler woman, she’d have said yes.

  Now wasn’t the time for those thoughts, I considered, shaking them aside and getting back to the matter at hand.

  “So, what do you have for us, Aaron? The suspense is literally killing me,” I said, watching him collapse into his chair.

  “Figuratively,” Gwen replied, trying to point out my mistake.

  “No, I meant literally,” I teased as she looked over her shoulder.

  “I’ve been doing some digging into this little problem,” Aaron cut in, trying to keep it purely business. “And what I found is an extremely sinister past for the Crossley family.”

  Gwen, Lauren, and I huddled around Aaron as he typed away at the computer, bringing up a single newspaper article from decades prior. Enhancing the image, zooming in to the exact article he was looking for, he gave us all some time to read it while he spoke.

  “Turns out the Crossley family was slaughtered in their home all the way back in 1982. The funny thing is, with such a big story, you’d think there would be more about it, right? That the city would be up in arms about a family being killed and only two kids getting out of it alive? But that’s the thing… it completely vanished after this article. I couldn’t find anything else. It’s like this was swept under the rug completely.”

  The article read of the Crossley family, Orlando and Jill, that were killed in their home on one late September night. There were no details about why it happened or who could’ve done it, but spoke of the abandoned children, Marilyn and Spencer. It did, however, mention that the family received threatening letters before the slaughter. A statement put out by then-police chief, Marty O’Brian, spoke of how the couple came to the station, but there was little to go on. The Crossley family received police protection for the better part of two months, with no further signs of anyone coming after them.

  The murders happened just a few days after the police protection dispersed.

  “What the hell?” the words left my lips without thinking. “So, you’re telling me that this all happened, and it was just brushed away like it never existed? But why?”

  “That’s the thing, though, right? It was a murder in a small part of New York back when serial killers ran rampant across the United States. I want to believe that someone was trying to hide something. Still, I’ve also got the feeling that the Crossley family might’ve just been another forgotten killing. It didn’t even make the news beyond this small-time newspaper,” Aaron added.

  “It doesn’t add up,” I cocked a brow, leaning over to make sure the date read 1982. “I saw a man at the Dench house delivering a letter. There’s no way he was able to pull this off back in the 80s and still be as young as he is.”

  “We can’t put it past someone trying to be a copy-cat killer,” Aaron shrugged.

  “But he’s also targeting Spencer’s family. That’s why Gwen’s here.”

  Lauren, no doubt, already knew this by listening in to the conversation through her intercom. Aaron, however, spun around with a look of confusion on his face.

  “And with that, you’ve got to think about how this guy figured out that Jane Dench and Spencer Williamson had anything to do with the Crossley family to begin with. We’ve got everything wo
rking in our favor, and you’ve only just managed to scrape a tiny shred of information on them—”

  “Tiny shred? This is only the beginning,” Aaron cut me off. “Jack, I see what you’re getting at, but this thing goes deep. And it’s really not looking good for those poor people if what you’re saying is true.”

  “What do you mean?” Gwen asked.

  “These murders have been happening for centuries. After getting the names of the parents, I managed to find out more about them. Orlando Crossley’s line went nowhere… he was just an unlucky bystander in a twisted act. Jill, however, was the target of whoever entered their home that night.”

  Aaron paused, typing away at the keyboard until a family tree sprung up on his screen. It was made by him but seemingly checked out with dates of birth and death all across the graph.

  “It seems whoever was unlucky enough to enter Jill’s family line, they somewhere met their end at the hands of some twisted person. Unlike Jane, I was able to track the rest of the line pretty easily.”

  “Where does it lead back to?” I asked.

  I knew that Aaron wanted to explain it all, go in-depth into how he figured it out, who he found, and what happened to them across the ages, but that could be done later. For now, it was best to stick to the facts and get to the point.

  “All the way back to the Salem Witch Trials, if you can believe. Further still, to our forefathers back in England, in a small town called Bury Saint Edmunds. It looks like whoever’s going after this family is taking them out a family at a time, and it’s got something to do with witchcraft.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Why leave anyone alive if you’re trying to eradicate a line?” Gwen cocked a brow, scratching her head.

  “They were just kids, right? It looks like it’s the same for every line moving forward. The children always made it through the ordeal while the parents suffered an untimely fate. The kids were never older than a year or so, either,” Aaron pointed to the screen to demonstrate what he was saying.