Out of Promises Read online

  Shaking, she walked slowly along the centre aisle, pissed off for both seizing up, and for falling asleep.

  She passed each pew with her arms folded over her breasts for comfort. The ticking of water hitting the ground grew louder, like a clock counting down to something. She was afraid. The dark was increasing her discomfort, and with what just happened playing over in her mind, she just wanted out of there, Freddie or no Freddie.

  With each step taking her farther away from the exit, she used her foot to feel in front of her like a blind man without a stick. A shiver raced down her spine as a fluttering noise came from the rafters. Looking up at the blackness through squinting eyes, her foot caught on something and she stumbled to the floor.

  ‘Shit,’ she muttered.

  Picking up the item, she moved her fingers around it, feeling the wet wooden cross with a Jesus figure attached.

  She looked around. ‘Freddie?’

  Nothing but an empty echo.

  With watering eyes and trembling limbs, she walked to a candle on the wall for a better look.

  ‘What the hell?’ she said, looking at her blood covered hands. She let go of the cross, which hit the ground with a thud.

  Is this Freddie’s blood?

  ‘Freddie!?’ she bellowed, wiping her hands on her clothes and wiping her tears away.

  More flutters came from above.

  She was a wreck, but carried on regardless.

  Minutes later at the front of the church, she wasn’t thinking clearly. Fear had taken over and nullified the logical part of her mind making her see all manner of things in the shadows, convincing her that she could see a body on the large cross behind the altar. On a normal day, this wasn’t anything out of place, but this was the source of the dripping sound. With her gut telling her something was terribly wrong, she approached the hanging cross to discover a body tied with rope around the neck, arms, and legs. Blood dripped from a bullet hole in the skull, trickling along the body to the shoes and on to the floor, pooling at her feet.

  ‘Freddie!?’ she yelled, holding her hand to her mouth and questioning the sight before her.

  With haste, she turned and ran for the exit, collecting the smaller cross on her way out while slipping on the blood along the centre aisles.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  There are many ways to describe Jackson Matherson. Tall. Confident. Mouthy. But the one that he was most well-known for was reliable. Thirty six years old, having spent the most important years of his life as a friend to Valerie Lambert, he had a terrible habit of speaking his mind, bringing with it unwanted attention. He stole his first car at eight years old, which his father beat him for. ‘You’re attracting the wrong kind of attention,’ his father would shout. At the time, Jackson didn’t know what it meant, but over the years, he learned of what his father did for a living, eventually being brought into the business at sixteen.

  ‘Why did you order Valerie to kill him?’ he asked his father.

  They were on the twelfth floor of their headquarters building at Hellman’s Business Centre. Smaller office buildings surrounded them with a large parking lot out front ending at a road with shops lining up opposite. The place became larger as the business grew, erected in this location for a fast escape to the freeway leading out of town. There had been a debate as to why they’d picked the top floor for the main office as the means of escape were slim – just an elevator and a stairwell – but in the end Jackson had to back down. He thought his father had too much confidence; his father thought it showed power.

  The office was spacious with a high ceiling and large windows covering the entire outside wall showing a stunning view of the city, even at this time of night. Long blue blinds fluttered in the wind on a clear sunny day, but tonight they were static and lifeless. To the right of where Jackson was sitting was a door to a meeting room and a bathroom beside it.

  Across a large mahogany desk was Jackson’s father, and boss of the business, Julius Matherson. A rich, powerful, distinguished looking man in a navy shirt with no tie and glasses almost falling from his nose. He was fifty nine years old now with greying hair. Still fit and sharp, he saw the aging process as a weakness. That was how he saw life: strong or weak. Yin and yang. Black and white.

  Of late, things had started to turn sour. Some of his men had deserted him and his influence was diminishing like a wall crumbling. Over the years, the police had come on strongly, desperate to pin something on him, but no evidence; no conviction.

  ‘Are you questioning my judgment?’ he asked Jackson.

  ‘No. Of course not. I just thought he was a good asset to have around. He’s been with us seventeen years and he’s a good guy.’ Jackson paused to think before asking his next question. ‘Would you do this to me?’

  ‘I don’t pay you to think, I pay you to follow orders.’ He stood up and put his hands on the desk. ‘You are my son, but if you fuck with me, you’re nothing. People are replaceable. Don’t let your feelings get in the way of your work.’

  ‘Right, right, sorry.’

  Matherson ignored Jackson’s tone. ‘Valerie should have called by now.’

  ‘I’ll call her.’

  ‘No, I’ll do it. I’m not too old to dial a phone.’ He picked up the receiver. ‘Leave. This is a private call since you’ve shown your disapproval. When you get out there send Sharpe in.’

  Jackson saw the stern, cold eyes of his father and felt sadness for the man who once had everything. He looked older somehow, showing his age.

  He stood up and walked to the doors.

  Matherson said, ‘Before you go, Jackson, remember your place.’

  The door closed and the room fell silent.

  The reception area was a lot like the office: clean and modern. A glass coffee table with coffee machine sat in a waiting area in front of a large red sofa. Two elevators stood in the centre of the back wall with the fire exit to the left.

  ‘He wants you,’ Jackson said to Sharpe, who was sitting behind the desk.

  Sharpe was Matherson’s lapdog. At thirty nine years old, he was an obnoxious, smug looking son of a bitch who always wore a suit, no matter what the situation.

  He stood up from behind the desk, nodded to Jackson and walked past him, nudging his shoulder as he did. ‘Watch it asshole,’ he said.

  Jackson wanted him to just leave. He had a phone call to make.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  In her car looking at her bloodied hands, Valerie sat thinking about tonight, making herself angry, the feeling of the stranger’s grip still on her breast and the taste of his breath bad enough to turn milk sour still on her taste buds.

  She snapped out of it when her phone rang.

  ‘Jackson, thank God.’

  He said, ‘Please tell me you didn’t kill Freddie.’

  ‘Of course I didn’t kill him!’ she shouted. ‘I’ve known him for so long. He was like a brother.’

  ‘Good. I mean, since when did we turn on our own people? This business used to be about honour, now it’s just about greed and murder.’ He listened to her sobs through the phone and said, ‘You know my father is trying to call you right now? Tell me what happened. Where’s Freddie?’

  ‘I was trying to follow an order,’ she cried. ‘None of us want to do this kind of thing, you know. I wanted to help him get out and escape, leave this business.’ She waited a second before saying, ‘Jackson. He touched me.’

  ‘Who touched you? Freddie?’

  ‘He’s dead. My closest friend is dead, gone.’

  ‘But you said you didn’t kill him. What the hell are you talking about?’

  She explained what happened, that she waited outside the church and fell asleep, not knowing if he came out, and that she went looking for him and met the stranger with scars on his face. She told of what he did to her and how she found Freddie on the cross.

  ‘You know when my father finds out he won’t be happy. He’ll see this as a failure.’

  ‘Fuck him. Freddie is dead.’


  Jackson paused in thought. Valerie could almost hear the cogs of his mind turning. He said, ‘I don’t think he needs to know the truth, right? All he wanted was Freddie out of the way. You could say you killed him and nobody has to know.’

  ‘What about the man I saw?’

  ‘We’ll deal with that later. He doesn’t need to know.’

  ‘He won’t buy that. We need to tell him the truth.’

  ‘Valerie, just come in and we can sort something.’

  ‘OK.’ She hung up the phone, leaned back in her seat and let out a long breath.

  Jackson hung up his phone and thought about the words to use to explain Freddie’s death when he saw a red light flashing on the desk’s phone. A line open light.

  Shit.

  His father was listening.

  Feet moved inside the office. He had to get out of there, fast.

  With only seconds to spare, he swiftly made his way to the elevators, both of them on different floors. He tried the fire exit, but the door wouldn’t budge.

  Behind him, the office door opened and Matherson stormed out. ‘You fucking little prick,’ he yelled.

  Jackson stopped in his tracks, caked in fear.

  His father stood in front of him with nothing but anger on his face.

  Jackson looked back at him. The old man he had seen not long ago had disappeared, replaced by the face of a man he hated to see; the face that made this organization what it is.

  Sharpe came out, moving behind Jackson.

  Matherson said as he moved towards him, ‘Trying to undermine me at every point. My own son.’

  Stepping backwards and waving his hands in front of him in protest, Jackson prayed for the elevators to arrive. ‘Dad, wait. I can explain.’

  Sharpe grabbed him, holding him tight.

  ‘You call this remembering your place?’ Matherson clenched his fist, swinging it hard into his son’s face.

  He let out a painful grunt and would have hit the floor if it wasn’t for Sharpe’s. Blood poured from the newly formed cut above his eye.

  Matherson hit him again, this time in the stomach, knocking the wind from him.

  As he gasped for air, Jackson felt his father’s love vanish; the years of loyalty to him worth nothing anymore.

  Matherson took a tissue from his pocket and dropped it on the floor before nodding to Sharpe to let him go.

  ‘Clean up your mess,’ Matherson said before telling Sharpe, ‘Take this piece of shit into the meeting room and have some fun with him, but keep him alive. Valerie will be here soon. We have to make the place look nice for her.’

  Jackson stood up with the tissue pressed to his eye, wiping away the tears of blood trickling down his face. ‘You’re nothing but a paranoid, pathetic old man.’

  Sharpe pushed him into the office and Matherson followed, closing the door behind.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Still in her car making herself crazy, Valerie kept staring at her blood stained hands, turning them over and over, hypnotized. Never before had she ever experienced anything like tonight. She’d done some unforgivable things in the course of her life, but nothing had ever made her feel so insecure, so weak.

  She started the engine and began her journey back to the city. Back to the office.

  Along the way, she smiled. Not a smile of happiness; a smile of relief that there was still someone to look out for her. Since the first time she met him, she’d respected Jackson. She trusted him and knew he’d come through for her.

  It took her twenty five minutes to get to Hellman’s, driving like she was in a trance. A zombie on autopilot.

  Pulling into the parking lot, she sighed. She didn’t want to go through this. Even the slightest hint that she was lying and Matherson would know.

  She found a space in the almost empty lot near the entrance and hung back from getting out to organize her thoughts. Through the rear view mirror, she found a smudge of blood on her cheek from where she’d wiped her tears away.

  Let’s get this over with.

  She cleaned her face, got out and walked over to the entrance.

  Inside the lobby, the floor sparkled with expensive marble floors buffed to perfection under cream painted walls with original artwork hanging from them.

  What a load of pretentious shit.

  The left of the two spotless elevators waited for her and she entered for what felt like the millionth time, feeling the same as she always had: claustrophobic.

  Since the fire door on the twelfth floor had seized two months ago, she’d had no choice but to suffer the feeling of being trapped and isolated. Matherson had every intention of getting it fixed, but didn’t want people from the outside looking in.

  What Valerie wanted when the doors parted was for Jackson to be there to greet her. She needed to see a friendly face. Instead, she got Sharpe standing in front of Matherson’s office doors with his arms folded.

  He said, ‘Mr. Matherson has been expecting you.’

  ‘OK, thanks. Shall I just walk in?’

  ‘Well, you could keep him waiting if you prefer, bitch?’

  ‘Look, I’m not in the mood for your shit right now, it’s been a long day so either be helpful or fuck off.’

  ‘Oh I’ll be out of your life sooner than you think, whore.’

  ‘Whose side are you on? You little brown nosing bastard. Your mother was a whore.’

  ‘Watch your mouth.’

  Until she met the man in the church, Sharpe was the person she was afraid of most, and she’d never stood up to him like that before.

  She brushed by him and walked inside to find Matherson alone at his desk silently watching her with his hands clenched on his elbows. A technique he used to ignite fear in people, which also made him feel in control.

  Sharpe walked into the meeting room to the side.

  ‘Mr. Matherson, you wanted to see me?’ she said.

  He didn’t say a word.

  On the inside, she was absolutely terrified. In her most confident voice, she said, ‘I killed him as you asked.’

  ‘Really? Good girl. I knew I could count on you.’ He got to his feet and walked around to her. ‘I have something else you can do for me.’

  ‘Anything, Mr. Matherson.’

  ‘I have a small problem with another person. Another one of our own. I believe you know him and, as you’ve shown me you can kill one I assume you can kill another.’

  Sharpe wheeled Jackson out on an office chair. Tape was tied around his hands and mouth and blood poured down his face to his chin.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she yelled, covering her mouth.

  He was barely conscious, bruised with a broken nose and missing part of his right ear. His suit was also ripped and his belt was open.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Matherson asked.

  ‘That’s your son.’

  ‘No one is above me.’

  ‘How could you?’

  ‘How could I? How could you is what you should ask yourself. I gave you a life. I gave you money and protection and this is how you repay me? Plotting when my back is turned. Well, not anymore.’ He slapped her hard.

  Without flinching, she took the pain.

  He said: ‘Why didn’t you just go into the church and kill him?’ He slapped her again and Jackson wriggled in the chair, mumbling something behind the tape.

  Sharpe kicked him.

  Valerie said nothing and just stood there.

  ‘You shouldn’t have lied to me,’ Matherson continued. ‘Don’t you realize we have rival families in this city? Do I need to remind you that a weapons shipment went missing not so long ago and we have another one on the way? What do you think would have happened if this trick of yours worked?’

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘I’ll tell you. Freddie’s murderer could wipe out more of us. Didn’t you even wonder if his killer could be one of us? Didn’t you think about that? No. You and Jackson are too stupid to think for yourselves.’

  ‘I won’t kil
l Jackson,’ she said.

  ‘You will kill Jackson if you don’t do as I say. Life is only delaying the inevitable, Valerie.’ Disgusted, he turned to Jackson and punched him across the face before spitting at him. Then, calmly as ever, he turned back to Valerie. ‘Why are you plotting behind my back? I rescued you from the streets. Where’s my respect? Nobody is above me.’

  She stayed quiet.

  ‘I want you to find out who killed Freddie or you’ll be where Jackson is and he’ll be in the ground. And don’t fuck with me anymore. I always liked you. I’m letting you off lightly.’

  Sharpe’s face dropped. He was hoping to have Valerie to himself, to do whatever he wanted.

  With teary eyes, she said, ‘Thank you, Mr. Matherson.’

  ‘Oh, and Valerie, don’t think about leaving the city. I will know.’

  ‘I won’t leave. I promise.’

  ‘Your promises mean nothing to me right now. Get out of my sight and find whoever killed Freddie. And if you go into a church, follow him in.’

  She nodded and looked at Jackson’s swollen face for the last time before leaving the room. Sharpe followed.

  ‘You stay in here, Sharpe,’ ordered Matherson.

  Valerie walked back to her car and drove home for some sleep, not fast, just cruising along at a steady thirty five.

  Her emotions were everywhere: anger, fear, guilt – all at the same time. Part of her felt like smashing the car into a wall or driving off a bridge, just for an escape, to be free from the pressure and overwhelming torment.

  Instead of going straight home, she headed to a quiet place she liked to visit beside the riverside, parking up and looking out at the bleak water with the soothing sound of trees rustling outside. This was the most peaceful she was ever likely to be in this city.

  A minute later, she was out of the car and standing on the river’s bank. Alone and curious, she wondered that, if she jumped in, would anybody actually care? It wouldn’t help Jackson, but at least she’d be free of the pain her life was heading towards.