Justice must prevail…

Aiden Connelly has settled in to life in Avalon and is developing a reputation as an attorney who will fight for the truth … no matter what enemies he makes along the way.

…whatever the cost.

But when he is asked to look into the tragic death of an old friend ten years before, Aiden is drawn back to his hometown of Greensburg, the town he eagerly fled as a teenager. As the ghosts from Aiden’s past resurface, and new dilemmas rise up to challenge him in Avalon, Aiden begins to wonder if everything he holds true has been built on lies.

Also by Carys Jones

Prime Deception

First to Fall (Avalon #1)

Second to Cry (Avalon #2)

Third to Die

Carys Jones

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2015

Copyright © Carys Jones 2015

Carys Jones asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9781474028318

Version date: 2018-06-27

CARYS JONES

loves nothing more than to write and create stories which ignite the reader’s imagination. Based in Shropshire, England, Carys lives with her husband, two guinea pigs and her adored canine companion Rollo. When she’s not writing, Carys likes to indulge her inner geek by watching science fiction films or playing video games. She lists John Green, Jodi Picoult and Virginia Andrews as her favourite authors and draws inspiration for her own work from anything and everything. To Carys, there is no greater feeling than when you lose yourself in a great story and it is that feeling of ultimate escapism which she tries to bring to her books.

As always, Dad, this one is for you. Thank you for being my biggest fan.

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Endpages

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Last Will and Testament

The air was dense with humidity as Aiden walked into work. With his briefcase in one hand he used the other to push open the glass door and a soft chime signalled his arrival.

From her desk in the modest lobby Betty looked up and smiled in greeting. Her hair, as always, was arranged in an immaculate bun and her glasses were currently hanging around her neck.

“Good morning, Mr. Connelly.”

“Morning, Betty,” Aiden smiled. “Is he in yet?”

“I’m ’fraid not,” Betty replied as she drew her mouth into a sharp line.

“Oh.” Aiden felt slightly dejected. The only other employee of Cope and May Solicitors at Law was Edmond Copes. The May within the partnership had previously deceased.

When Edmond was in the office, hours slipped by like minutes. The older man was an endless supply of jokes and laughter. Without him there the office felt almost unbearably empty.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Aiden wondered. It had been almost two weeks since Edmond had last been in.

“His wife just said he’s sick and will be back when he’s well enough,” Betty reiterated the original message, which didn’t contain any specific dates.

“He must be pretty ill,” Aiden frowned. “I should probably go out and see him.”

“She said no visitors!” Betty added sharply. “Edna was most fervent about that.”

To those that knew her well, Carol Copes was known by her middle name of Edna.

“Hmm,” Aiden paused in thought. He wished he could at least text Edmond but the older man was resistant to most forms of modern technology. He felt that cell phones bred an atmosphere of constant availability which wasn’t something he believed in. Edmond Copes strongly believed in upholding designated office hours. If something couldn’t be done between nine and five on a weekday it would simply have to wait.

“I’m sure Edmond will bounce back soon,” Betty said hopefully. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Edna has sent him to a fat camp or something.”

“Yeah,” Aiden laughed.

“She was always telling him to stop with the cakes but, lord, does Edmond have a sweet tooth!”

*

As Aiden entered his office, he was met with a wall of stifling heat. The sun had been shining against the windows on the far wall since dawn, slowly raising the temperature.

Loosening his tie, Aiden quickly turned on his desktop fan and stood in front of the blades as they spun around in their cage and offered little comfort as they seemed only capable of moving hot air rather than creating anything cool. Still, it was better than nothing.

Aiden glanced forlornly at the desk where Edmond usually sat. By now the two men would have eagerly exchanged stories of their weekend. Edmond was always so excited to hear about what Aiden had been up to. He knew he’d almost burst with excitement when he heard the news that Isla was pregnant.

But it was still too early to tell people. Edmond’s delight would have to wait.

Sighing, Aiden sat down at his desk and flicked on his computer. He suddenly felt exhausted, even though he’d just started his working day. It was thinking about Isla’s pregnancy that drained him. Each time it came to the forefront of his mind he felt bowled over by the enormity of it. His unborn child had changed everything.

The computer came on and Aiden opened his emails and began scanning down his newly received messages as he did every morning. He’d open his emails filled with hope but it would soon diminish to sadness. Of course she wouldn’t contact him, why would she?

*

“Daddy?” Meegan asked hopefully, her podgy cheeks filled with porridge which she spat out as she spoke.

“Daddy’s at work today,” Isla informed her young daughter for the fourth time that morning.

Frowning, Meegan dropped her spoon into her bowl with as much force as her toddler arms could muster, causing porridge to splatter across the table.

“Hey, don’t do that!” Isla snapped, reaching for a cloth to clean up the mess.

“Jungle gym?” Meegan tried a new line of questioning since asking for her Daddy wasn’t resulting in him materializing.

“Yes,” Isla nodded. “We can go play in the park today, but only if you eat all your breakfast like a good girl.”

Running a hand through her tangle of red curls, Isla gazed out of her kitchen window at the small town beyond. The sky was leaden clear and a brilliant shade of blue offering the prospect of a glorious day. Isla felt herself wilt at the thought of the impending heat. She needed to vacuum, do the dishes, make the beds and get the groceries. On a normal day these were just tasks to tick off a list, but on a hot summer’s day, like today, they became monumental chores. In the peak of Avalon’s heat Isla would sweat just walking up the stairs.

She missed the air conditioning of Chicago. She missed the way the wind would whip along the streets, chilling her as she walked and making her skin prickle. There were so many things Isla missed about Chicago that she wondered that if she started writing them all down would she ever be able to stop? Each new day in Avalon reminded her of something she missed back in the city.

“Ice cream?” Meegan glanced down at her half-eaten porridge and then back at her mother, her young eyes wide and plaintive.

“Maybe later,” Isla playfully ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Eat your breakfast first.”

“Daddy?” the little girl asked, her small voice pitched with hope.

“This is the last time I tell you,” Isla sighed wearily, pushing her hands down into her jean pockets and leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Daddy is at work.”

“Jungle gym?” Meegan titled her head to the left as she spoke and so the cycle of questions continued throughout the day until each request had been met.

*

The prospect of a new baby had Aiden recalling the time before Meegan’s birth. She’d been an unexpected gift for the couple, providing the catalyst to cement Aiden and Isla’s commitment to one another.

Back then the thought of being a father had terrified Aiden and in many ways it still did. He often lost sleep wondering how he’d cope in certain situations as Meegan got older. Would having another child just double the burden already weighing upon him?

Aiden looked across at Edmond’s empty desk and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He missed having his colleague there to talk to. Aiden had few friends in Avalon. When he’d moved there he’d imagined this close-knit community who would welcome him into the midst with open arms. Instead he’d found a close-knit community who put up high walls against outsiders, especially ones like Aiden who rocked the status quo and asked too many questions.

In Edmond Aiden had found a friend and he was truly grateful for that. Perhaps he should call Edna directly and ask if he could visit him? He was deliberating on the idea when the intercom on his desk crackled to life.

“Mr. Connelly?” Betty’s voice eerie echoed up from the device.

Aiden pressed a button and spoke.

“Yes, Betty?”

“I…case…yard.” Aiden groaned and got up from his desk. The intercom system had been malfunctioning for weeks. It was yet another thing he needed to raise with Edmond upon his return.

Aiden took the three paces necessary to reach the main office door and pulled it open, causing Betty to jump in her seat where she was sat at her own desk still speaking into the intercom.

“Oh!” the old woman cried with a fright, her glasses now perched neatly at the end of her nose as she studied the intercom with fierce intensity. Like Edmond, she wasn’t proficient with modern technology.

“The intercom isn’t working,” Aiden explained. “It’s probably easier if you just speak to me directly.”

“Oh, okay, well—”

“Not here,” Aiden instructed, glancing ahead at the waiting area which consisted of two sofas. It was rare for anyone to wander in without a prior appointment but still, he couldn’t take the risk. It was unprofessional to discuss business in earshot of potential clients.

He gestured into his office and Betty followed, straightening her long skirt as she stood up. Despite the heat she was wearing a dark-green cardigan. Betty didn’t believe in women revealing too much flesh. She considered such attire to be inappropriate. She’d much rather sweat and appear dignified whilst doing so.

“Ooh!” Betty objected as she entered the office. “It’s awful hot in here!”

“I know,” Aiden returned to his own desk and sat down. “Yet another thing that needs fixing around here. But I don’t want to do anything until Edmond is back. You know how he likes to be involved in all company decisions.”

“Yes, I know,” Betty nodded sagely, pursing her lips.

“Well, what did you need me for?” Aiden prompted her.

“Ah!” Betty clapped her hands together. “I took a call Friday afternoon for an appointment today. I was certain that Edmond would be back and able to deal with it but since he isn’t…”

“It falls to me,” Aiden concluded stoically. “So what’s the appointment?”

“It’s with a client to amend their last will and testament.”

“Okay,” Aiden looked at Betty for more details. The creation and amendment of wills were relatively standard within the company so Aiden knew he would have no trouble handling the case.

Betty seemed reluctant to proceed which surprised Aiden.

“I can assure you I’m fine writing up a will,” Aiden smiled at her. “I did a truckload of them back in Chicago with all sorts of caveats. I can handle this client, it won’t be a problem.”

“That’s just it,” Betty said grimly. “The client might be a problem.”

“Who is it?” Aiden leaned forward, his eyes sharp with interest whilst his heart fluttered nervously against his rib cage.

Betty took a sharp intake of breath.

“It’s Clyde White.”

Aiden leaned back, taking in the name.

“I can reschedule!” Betty insisted. “But you know how difficult he can be.”

Aiden knew all too well just how difficult Clyde White had been. Father to the murdered Brandon White, he refused to see his son as anything other than a martyr and demonised the very woman his son had mercilessly beat upon.

In his desire to protect his son’s name, Clyde had even made ominous threats to Isla and Meegan. Aiden detested the man and he felt his blood begin to boil just upon hearing his name.

“I’ll reschedule,” Betty decided nervously as she saw the curtain of resentment sweep across Aiden’s handsome face.

“No, no,” Aiden reached out a hand to gesture for her to stop. “I’ll go. It will be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Betty peered at Aiden from behind her glasses. “I mean, you and Clyde White have never been on good terms. And I imagine the whole reason he’s amending his will is because of Brandon’s passing. I’d hate him to be cruel to you.”

“It’s all water under the bridge,” Aiden reassured the old woman that he himself had reservations about how Clyde White would receive him. As Betty had so astutely pointed out, they’d never been on good terms.

“If you’re sure,” Betty nodded. “The appointment is at three out at his lumber yard. Do you need directions?”

“No,” Aiden shook his head slowly. “I remember the way.”

“I sure hope he doesn’t give you too hard a time,” Betty fretted. “Because the problem with Avalon is, there aren’t any bridges for the water to go under.”

Aiden nodded with understanding. Avalon was certainly the sort of place where ghosts of the past refused to reside quietly in the background.

“Three o’ clock,” Aiden made a scribbled note of the appointment. “Not a problem.”

“You always were so brave,” Betty smiled, blushing slightly. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“Sure,” Aiden smiled and glanced at the clock. It was even half past nine. With an appointment with Clyde White looming, he knew he was going to be in for a long, hot day.

*

It had been a long time since Aiden had last drove out to Avalon Pine, the timber company owned by Clyde White, but the route was still reassuringly familiar to him. The day had grown sticky and hot, making Aiden’s shirt cling to him despite the air-conditioned air roaring out of the vents in his car.

After parking his car in the customer lot, Aiden took a moment to brace himself for what would inevitably be a difficult reunion. The last time he’d seen Clyde White, he’d been representing Brandy and trying to uncover the truth around Brandon’s death. Clyde had been a doting father, guarding his son’s secrets with dogged determination even in the wake of his demise.

The heat hit Aiden as soon as he emerged from the confines of his car, as did the wall of sound which accompanied a busy lumber yard. All around him there was a cacophony of sound as workers sawed, drilled and hauled timber around the Avalon Pine site.

Little had changed since Aiden had last been there. There was the same long log cabin boasting the company logo within which Clyde White, Site Manager, resided. Aiden squinted in the sunlight as he looked over at the building and, for a moment, he hesitated. He didn’t relish the situation he was about to walk into.

“Damn it, Edmond,” he grumbled to himself as he finally started walking across the lot, briefcase in hand, towards the cabin.

*

Thankfully, once Aiden entered the log cabin he was delivered from the heat outside and bathed in refreshing, cool air. He felt almost euphoric to be able to abandon the oppressive heat of the day.

A young blonde glanced up expectantly from behind a large desk. She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and let her hand hover over the telephone to her left.

“I’m from Copes and May,” Aiden explained to her, his tone friendly. “I’ve got an appointment with Clyde White at three.”

The young woman held him in her gaze for a second too long and then placed both hands on her computer’s keyboard and began furiously typing. Her long nails, painted a shade of blue more brilliant than the clearest sky, struggled to navigate between the plastic keys. She pursed her ruby-red lips in frustration.

“He’s expecting me,” Aiden added helpfully. “Well, not me personally, but someone from Copes and May.”

The woman ceased typing and smiled falsely.

“I’ve found the appointment,” she reported in her thick Southern accent. “I’ll just let Mr. White know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” Aiden nodded at her and moved to sit down on a nearby sofa. He watched as the blonde picked up the telephone and swiftly dialled a succession of numbers into the keypad.

“Your three o clock is here,” she said abruptly after a brief pause. Then she placed the phone down and looked across at Aiden.

“You can go on in.”

“Thank you.”

*

Aiden pushed open the door to Clyde White’s office and was met by a flourish of crisp air. In the modestly sized room there was the same grand desk, opposite which were placed two leather chairs. On the wall behind the desk remained the same collection of framed photographs and newspaper clippings about Brandon. Clearly the scandal of the murder trial had done nothing to quash Clyde’s devotion to his late son.

Clyde White was sat behind his desk, the pictures of Brandon providing a morbid backdrop to his work day. He was dressed in a cream short-sleeved shirt and his hair boasted a greater ratio of grey to black than it had done when Aiden had last seen him. He smiled courteously as Aiden walked in and gestured to the leather chairs.

“Afternoon, Mr. White,” Aiden reached over to shake the man’s hand before sitting down. Clyde White gripped it firmly as they shook. He was the sort of man who judged someone by the calibre of their handshake.

Aiden popped open his briefcase and retrieved some documents which Clyde would need to fill in.

“I know you were expecting Edmond,” Aiden began, “but sadly he’s not in today so you’ve got me instead.”

“Well aren’t I the lucky one?” Clyde noted flatly.

“You’re looking to amend your present will?” Aiden passed some paperwork across to Clyde.

Opening a drawer in his desk, Clyde pulled out some fashionable reading glasses. Aiden didn’t remember him needing them before. He watched the older man as he scrutinized the paperwork.

“You just need to highlight what needs amending,” Aiden prompted him. “Or I can help you with it, if you like?”

Clyde sighed and placed the paper he was holding flat on his desk and looked squarely at Aiden.

“Says here I’m leaving everything to Brandon. Guess that needs to change.”

Aiden coughed awkwardly.

“I’ve been meaning to update this for ages,” Clyde continued. “Kept putting it off. Felt too painful, too final.”

The pain Aiden had originally seen in Clyde White over his son’s death still existed behind his eyes, infecting his whole demeanour so that he physically wilted when he spoke about his son.

“I’m sorry this is difficult for you,” Aiden offered kindly.

“No, you’re not,” Clyde replied bluntly. “You thought my son was a monster. You did everything you could to destroy the legacy he had here in this town.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Aiden quickly corrected him. “I was just searching for the truth.”

“And now a man of God sits rotting in prison,” Clyde sighed, referring to the real killer of his son, Father West, the man who had almost let Brandy take the fall for a crime she didn’t commit, had Aiden not intervened.

“No jury in the land is ever going to convict him.”

Aiden was silent. He knew better than to overly engage with Clyde regarding what happened with Brandy’s murder trial.

“I suppose you think I should leave everything to her,” Clyde asked heatedly. “She is, after all, my son’s widow.”

“Whoever you state as your benefactor is completely up to you.”

“She doesn’t deserve a dime,” Clyde seethed as his eyes misted behind the lenses of his glasses.

“Perhaps you want some time to think it over,” Aiden suggested helpfully. “I could leave these here and collect them at a later date.”

“No need,” Clyde raised his palm to Aiden and with his other hand picked up a pen and swiftly began amending the document before him.

“I know who I need to make my will out to,” he explained.

“Oh,” Aiden tried to not sound surprised. “Good.”

Once Clyde was done writing, he slid the piece of paper back to Aiden.

“Everything in order?” Clyde asked.

Aiden glanced over the paperwork and felt his body stiffen in shock when he saw that Clyde was now leaving his entire estate to Edmond Copes’ next of kin.

“You look surprised,” Clyde smirked slightly as he spoke.

“I didn’t realize you and Edmond were so close,” Aiden admitted.

“Edmond Copes is a good man,” Clyde declared sincerely. “Terrible thing what’s happening to him. I’ve no family left of my own to have to support so the least I can do for him is to help his loved ones after we’re both gone.”

“What terrible thing?” Aiden asked, leaning forward.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know?” Clyde looked delighted by Aiden’s obliviousness.

“Know what?”

“Edmond hasn’t been in work for several weeks now, correct?”

“That’s right, he’s off sick.”

Clyde shook his head slowly, a forlorn expression casting a shadow across his chiselled features. The line around his eyes seem to deepen as he looked across at Aiden.

“He’s not sick, Mr. Connelly. He’s dying.”

“What?” Aiden gripped the arms of the leather chair for support.

“Cancer. He was diagnosed at the start of the month but they caught it too late,” Clyde explained, his voice becoming brittle.

“Not many people know. He started chemotherapy last week and, well, it’s taken it out of him. The doctors aren’t hopeful for his prognosis.”

Aiden was speechless. Clyde White had to be wrong. There was no way that Edmond Copes was dying. When Aiden had last seen the old man a few weeks ago, he’d been his usual, jovial self, there was no indication at all that anything was wrong.

“You’re messing with me,” Aiden said tersely as he felt his hands start to shake. “Edmond is just sick, he’ll be fine. You’re just trying to get to me as you’re still bitter about everything that went down with Brandy.”

“Oh, I’m bitter,” Clyde confirmed. “I’ll never forgive you for trying to tarnish Brandon’s good name. But I can assure you that I’m not lying about Edmond and I’m affronted that you’d think I’d stoop so low as to make something like this up.”

Aiden used his shaking hand to wipe at his eyes.

“If Edmond was gravely ill he’d have told me,” he said with certainty.

“Would he?” Clyde countered, removing his glasses. “You’re Edmond’s beloved prodigy. I imagine he wanted to protect you from the ugliness of it all.”

Aiden stood up and put a hand to his temple. His head suddenly felt immensely heavy from all the questions it now contained.

“You’re wrong.” Aiden tried to remain composed as he picked up his briefcase and prepared to leave.

“I wish I was,” Clyde moved around from his desk to get the door. “Edmond is a good man, one of the best.”

“He’s not dying,” Aiden insisted.

“Make sure you get that processed,” Clyde said, referring to his amended will. “I told Edmond I’d get it done as soon as I could.”

“So you knew you’d be seeing me today?”

“Of course.”

Aiden sighed in frustration.

“If you’re lying about Edmond—”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t.”

“Do you think telling me this makes us even?”

Clyde chuckled slightly to himself.

“Of course not,” he clapped Aiden on the back as he pulled open the office door. “We’ll never be even.”

*

Aiden sat in his car holding Clyde’s amended will. He kept re-reading the new benefactor. Clyde was leaving everything to Edmond’s family. Surely that meant it was true, that Edmond was actually dying?

Punching the steering wheel Aiden tried to release his anguish. He wanted to scream, to cry, to run until his legs gave way beneath him, but instead he turned on the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. He knew he was due back at the office but that wasn’t where he was headed. He was going to see Edmond.

*

“Has anyone called for me?” Brandy enquired hopefully as she came down the central staircase of Chez Vous.

“No, honey,” her Aunt Carol shook her head and raised a perfectly styled eyebrow at her niece.

“You need to stop waiting on his call.”

“I’m not waiting on anyone’s call!” Brandy insisted, forcing herself to smile brightly and sound flippant.

“Uh-huh,” Carol rolled her eyes and pursed her lips knowingly.

“We’ve all been there,” Rhonda, a senior stylist, retorted from where she was standing nearby, styling a middle-aged woman’s hair.

“You need to stop waiting on him and move on!” As Rhonda spoke, she pointed her scissors at Brandy.

Brandy liked Rhonda. Like all the other women who worked at Chez Vous, she was stylish and oozed confidence. Brandy had never known women like them before. They were assertive and knew their own minds and didn’t let the men in their life own them. It was a far cry from the life she’d known growing up, where Brandy’s own mother favoured her current man over her own daughter.

“Chin up,” Carol placed her hand beneath Brandy’s dainty chin and physically pushed it upwards.

Brandy tucked a loose strand of long blonde hair behind her ear and turned to head back up to her next client. She paused briefly, a hand on the rail and looked back at her aunt, her deep-brown eyes wide with irrepressible hope.

“If someone does call, you’ll tell me, right?”

“Child, you’re a lost cause!” Rhonda cried heatedly, pointing her scissors back at Brandy.

“Beautiful Southern belle like yourself could have any man in this city eating out of the palm of your hand!”

“Thanks,” Brandy whispered politely, not wanting to point out that the problem was that the man she wanted wasn’t even in Chicago.

*

The only place Brandy was able to find solace was sat at the white piano in the worn-down hotel a few blocks from her apartment. She’d sit at the stool and let her fingers glide effortlessly over the keys and she’d lose herself to whichever melody she decided to play. Lately, the songs she played were sombre and slow, reflecting her mood.

He’d told her he was going to call. He’d told her that he was going to leave his wife and come back to Chicago for her and they were going to be together, truly together. That was two weeks ago. Since then there had been only silence from Aiden Connelly. As Brandy pressed down firmly on a deep chord she tried to push out all her pain, all her hurt and anguish. With each day that passed she came closer to the heart breaking realisation that Aiden was never going to call.

*

“Was he the smartly dressed man who came to Chez Vous a few weeks ago?” Rhonda asked as she walked along the street beside Brandy. The two women were headed out to collect coffees for everyone at the salon, a Wednesday afternoon ritual. Usually Brandy went alone, but this time Rhonda insisted on joining her.

“Who?” Brandy glanced at her colleague, frowning slightly in confusion.

“The man whose call you keep waiting on,” Rhonda said directly.

“Oh,” Brandy looked down at her feet and blushed.

Rhonda placed a comforting arm around her. She stood almost an entire foot taller than Brandy. She had jet-black hair styled dramatically into a spiked style with fluorescent-pink tips and she always wore the latest fashions coupled with her beloved vintage leather jacket. Rhonda oozed originality and confidence and, like Brandy, she relocated to Chicago from her small home town almost ten years ago when she graduated from high school.

“And I’ve never looked back!” Rhonda would declare whenever she regaled someone with her tale of how she came to be in the big city.

“Yeah, I thought something was up, I saw the way you looked at each other.”

“He said he’d call,” Brandy admitted sadly. “He said he’d come back for me.”

“He’s married, isn’t he?” Rhonda ceased walking and looked directly at Brandy. There was no judgement in her eyes, only concern.

“Yes,” Brandy sighed. “He is. Does that make me an awful person?”

“No,” Rhonda shook her head and continued walking. “It makes you human. He’s the awful person in this scenario. That ring on his finger means he can’t go leading someone on. He was your lawyer, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Brandy gave Rhonda a sideways glance and shoved her hands deep into her trench coat pockets.

“Your aunt told me,” Rhonda explained. “She said she recognized him from television. She’s worried about you.”

“She is?”

“She says you’ve not been the same since he came to visit. And she’s right, Brandy. We’ve all noticed. When you first came to Chez Vous you were like this little breath of fresh air that left a smile on everyone you met. Now, you walk around with your head down in this cloud of unhappiness all because he hasn’t called. Don’t let a man have that much power over you, honey.”

“I thought he loved me,” Brandy said sadly, unable to meet Rhonda’s gaze.

“We always do,” Rhonda said sympathetically. “As awful as it is, if he loved you, he’d call. I’m not saying that to be cruel, I’m saying it to set you free.”

Brandy flinched slightly at the bluntness of the comment and also the truth she knew it held.

“I appreciate you being honest with me,” Brandy managed to smile slightly. They’d arrived at the coffee shop and wandered in and joined the moderate queue.

“I’ll sort you out,” Rhonda promised. “I’ll take you out with me and find you a decent man.”

Brandy smiled politely and nodded as Rhonda began to detail her plan for securing her young colleague a new beau. But Brandy couldn’t focus on what she was saying, her mind, as always, had drifted back to Aiden, and Avalon. She just wished she knew why he hadn’t called.

Chapter Two

Holding On

Edna Copes wearily opened the large front door and squinted into the sunlight at Aiden. If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it.

“Hi,” Aiden smiled gently at her. “I was hoping I could see Edmond.”

Normally Edna’s face was constantly adorned by a bright, welcoming smile, but her lips were now held in a straight line. Dark circles had gathered beneath her eyes and her skin was pale and lacked its usual lustre.

“I thought you’d come,” Edna sighed, gesturing for Aiden to come inside. “He didn’t want you to know. He thinks so highly of you. He kept fretting about worrying you. But I told him you’re a smart guy; you’d be here soon enough.”

Aiden steeled himself upon hearing Edna’s ominous tone. Clearly, Edmond was as gravely ill as Clyde White had stated.

“How bad is it?” he asked softly.

A shadow crossed Edna’s face as she closed her eyes and shuddered slightly. When she re-opened them to speak they were dull and distant. She recited words she’d heard in a sterile doctor’s office, words she refused to give power to here in her home.

“It was originally just in his bladder but it has since spread and last they checked it was in his lymph nodes.”

“Cancer?”

Edna nodded grimly.

“He’s just through here,” Edna continued through the hallway and led Aiden towards the sitting room. Already he could sense that something was different. The Copes’ household was usually alive with sounds and energy but now the air was still and his footsteps echoed off the walls.

The medicinal scent of antibacterial wash became almost overbearing as it lingered in uncirculated air. Edna opened the doors to the sitting area and it smelled like a hospital ward only without the garish white walls.

The sitting room had been rearranged to accommodate a hospital bed which was nestled in the far corner, surrounded by a web of monitors. The drapes were closed, bathing the whole area in unnatural darkness. Edmond was sat in an armchair wearing blue plaid pyjamas. He had a blanket across his knees despite the oppressive heat of the afternoon.

Aiden felt his breath catch in his throat when he saw his beloved colleague. Edmond was a wilted, watered-down version of his former self. He’d lost a drastic amount of weight so that his pyjamas were ill-fitting. The same dark circles which hung beneath his wife’s eyes were present on his own face, only they appeared denser and more permanent. His skin had become so pale that it was almost translucent.

“He’s being so strong,” Edna whispered to Aiden when they were just beyond Edmond’s earshot.

“Humour him.”

Aiden nodded, though he wasn’t sure what she meant, and carefully approached Edmond. As he neared the older man he suddenly looked up, surprisingly alert and as soon as he saw his young protégé, a huge smile spread across his thinning face.

“Aiden, my boy!”

“So this is where you’ve been hiding out,” Aiden replied, using all the energy he could muster to sound bright and upbeat.

“You found me,” Edmond winked cheekily as Aiden sat down on a nearby sofa.

“Can I get you boys some drinks?” Edna kindly enquired.

“I’ll take a scotch on the rocks,” Edmond chuckled. Edna looked at him sternly, clearly not amused.

“Fine, just water,” Edmond rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you, it’s like living with the Gestapo having her here!”

Edna glanced expectantly at Aiden.

“Just water for me, please.”

For a moment they listened to her retreating footsteps, which were easily carried in the vast, empty air of the house.

“She just worries,” Edmond wrinkled his nose slightly as he referenced his wife. “I do miss my scotch though.”

“You should have told me,” Aiden eyed his friend sternly and leaned forward, clasping his hands together.

“Told you what?” Edmond feigned mock ignorance. “There’s nothing to tell,” he waved a dismissive hand in front of him.

“I’ll be better soon enough. Once they’ve poured more of that damn poison into me I’ll kick this thing, just you see!”

Aiden was about to enquire about how aggressively the cancer had spread when he instead decided to keep his mouth shut, choosing to heed Edna’s advice and humour her husband.

“So who told you?” Edmond asked, his eyes bright with interest as Edna returned with two long glasses of water.

“Thanks,” Aiden nodded politely at her and then looked back at Edmond. “Clyde White. I was there earlier to amend his will.”

“That old dog never could hold his tongue,” Edmond remarked lightly.

“Did he talk to you about his will?”

“I know he’s leaving everything to the Copes’ dynasty,” Edmond quipped. “Someone should tell him to hold his horses though, he needs to remember that both our beds are still warm!”

“I think he’s just worried about you.”

“He’s just a glory hunter,” Edmond raised an eyebrow as he spoke. “He wants to redeem his family name after all the mess surrounding Brandy’s trial.”

“That seems a little…dark.”

“You’ve met Clyde White, haven’t you?”

“I guess,” Aiden took a sip from his cooled water and glanced around the room. It felt more like God’s waiting room than a sitting area. It scared Aiden how drastically things had changed. It had only been a few short weeks since he’d last seen Edmond and in that time the older man had literally started to fade away.

“I wish you’d told me,” Aiden reiterated.

This time Edmond wasn’t so quick to dismiss the comment.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he admitted. “Besides, I’ll be back at work in no time. No point making a fuss over nothing.”

Aiden frowned and looked down at his glass, unable to keep his eyes on Edmond. He looked so feeble, so besieged by sickness. Clearly, it wasn’t nothing.

“So how long until you’re back, getting in the way of me actually working?” Aiden pulled his mouth into a wry smile, doing his best to humour the older man.

“Not long, don’t you sweat, young buck,” Edmond chuckled slightly, though his mirth lacked the depth Aiden was accustomed to.

“A few more bouts of chemo and I’ll be back,” Edmond smiled, but it fell away a little too quickly.

“Well, Betty and I are missing you.”

“I bet the old girl is bereft without me there,” Edmond winked. He went to speak again but was silenced by his increasingly laboured breathing.

“Are you okay? Can I get you anything?” Aiden approached him and placed a concerned hand upon his shoulder.

Edmond shook his head but didn’t speak. Footsteps hurriedly entered the room and Aiden looked up to see Edna running over with some pills in her hand.

“Take these,” she urged her husband. Then she looked back at Aiden, “He’s just getting tired. He doesn’t have much energy these days.”

Edmond took the tablets and sat for a moment, waiting for his breathing to regulate itself. Edna hovered by his side, not taking her eyes off him for a second. Aiden, however, was forced to look away. It was too difficult to watch.

“Better?” Edna asked anxiously, stroking Edmond’s thinning hair.

“No energy?” Edmond glanced at his wife, the light returning to his eyes as his chest ceased awkwardly heaving.

“I’ve more than enough energy, I’ll thank you very much!”

Edna sighed and rolled her eyes as she straightened and stood up. The moment had passed and her husband was back to his usual cheeky self.

“Women!” Edmond declared bluntly. “She’s just mad as I’m under her feet all day. She can’t keep popping off to the shops like she usually does.”

Edna didn’t reply, she just headed out of the room, once more giving the men their privacy.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Aiden asked sincerely.

“If I lose any more energy, you may have to service Mrs. Copes on my behalf,” Edmond joked but Aiden was unable to laugh. The gravity of the situation was beginning to weigh him down so that he felt like his whole body was made of lead and bolted to the sofa on which he sat.

Edmond looked across at his young colleague and his smile fell away when he registered his troubled expression.

“I’m doing everything I can to fight this,” he admitted. “But I’m a proud man. I didn’t want you, or anyone, for that matter, to see me like this.”

“You should have told me,” Aiden’s voice cracked slightly as water gathered behind his eyes.

“I know. I just…” Edmond looked back at the draped windows and sighed. “It crept up on me like some monster. One day I was fine, the next I was pissing blood and collapsing on the bathroom floor. She was terrified. I don’t like scaring people, Aiden. The fewer people this monster can scare, the better.”

“I want to help,” Aiden declared, straightening. “It must be exhausting for Edna to manage everything on her own. Let me help. I can take you to hospital appointments, sit here with you at home, whatever you need.”

“I need my company to stay afloat,” Edmond told him. “So that when I return I’ve still got a job to go back to.”

Aiden’s face betrayed him as his eyes misted with pity.

“Copes and May is my legacy,” Edmond continued, his voice becoming light with nostalgia.

“We made that company when we were young, idealistic men. We wanted to change the world. And you helped.”

“I did?” Aiden blinked in surprise.

“You saved Brandy White. Without your intervention an innocent woman would have died. That’s the reason I ever got into law in the first place; to save those who genuinely needed saving.”

“I’m not sure my other cases have been quite so noble.”

“It’s early days,” Edmond said sagely. “You’re making a name for yourself for being a good, honest man. People will seek out your help. You’re going to make Copes and May great.”

“Okay, but I still want to help you.”

Edmond squirmed awkwardly in his chair.

“Ask Edna what help she needs,” he said quickly. “But I draw the line at having you here when she bathes me! I need to retain some of my mystique!”

“I’ll ask her,” Aiden smiled.

“I wish we could sit and chew the fat all day,” Edmond said wistfully. “I want to hear all about what a smug bastard Clyde White was when he told you I was sick. But I’m tired. And as a sick man I get to call it when I’m tired and insist people leave so I can rest!”

“Sounds like a fair perk to the deal,” Aiden stood and fondly placed a hand on Edmond’s shoulder.

“I promise I’ll be back at work soon,” Edmond told him, his eyelids already beginning to droop.

“I’ll hold you to that!” Aiden pointed at him.

*

“I want to help,” Aiden said solemnly to Edna as she showed him to the front door.

“He’s so stubborn,” Edna sighed. “He struggles to accept help from me!”

“Is there anything at all I can do?”

Edna pursed her lips and thought for a moment.

“Could you take him to his chemo appointment next week? I’d take him myself, only some of our family are flying in and I need to get the house straight for having them all coming to stay.”

“Absolutely, I’ll take him.”

“We’re circling the wagons,” Edna admitted woefully. “As much as he wants to bury his head in the sand, the rest of us can’t. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how bad things were. He insisted I shouldn’t say anything.”

“It’s okay,” Aiden briefly embraced Edna and tried to hold back his own tears.

“You mean so much to him,” Edna wiped at her cheek out of habit, even though she wasn’t crying in that moment.

“If anyone can fight this, he can,” Aiden told her confidently before stepping out into the heat of the afternoon and walking back to his car.

*

Aiden turned the stereo in his car up so that it was distractingly loud. He needed something to distract him from his darkening thoughts. He’d so desperately wanted Clyde White to be wrong but it truly did seem that Edmond was fading away. It was so cruel a fate for such a vibrant, charismatic man.

Drumming his hands against the steering wheel in time to the music, Aiden forced himself to hum along, to focus solely on the garish rhythm of the pop song being filtered through his car’s speakers. He became so hypnotised by the overly produced record that it took him a second to notice the flashing lights in his rear-view mirror. Lowering the music, Aiden realized with dismay that the lights were accompanied by the stringent shriek of sirens. Slowing, he pulled up on to the side of the road and cut his engine.

“Dammit,” he grumbled angrily to himself. He was certain that he hadn’t been speeding. He’d admittedly been distracted but he’d still managed to adhere to the laws of the road.

As Aiden glanced up into his mirror he noticed a familiar figure exit the squad car, which was now pulled up behind him. The pointed boots of Buck Fern stepped out into the gathered dust on the roadside and began to approach Aiden’s car.

“Dammit,” Aiden uttered again, opening his car window and then carefully placing his hands at ten and two on the wheel.

He could hear the old sherriff’s prolonged, deliberate steps before he finally appeared at his window, casting a shadow across Aiden as he blocked out the afternoon sun.

“Afternoon, Sherriff,” Aiden tried to sound as amicable as he could.

“Connelly,” Buck replied gruffly, snarling as he uttered the greeting.

Buck placed one hand on the car’s roof and lowered himself to look in at Aiden.

“Mind stepping out of the car?” Even though Buck delivered it as a question, they both knew it was a directive.

“Seriously?” Aiden asked, bewildered but already unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Seriously,” Buck confirmed coldly as he stepped back and waited for Aiden to get out.

The few cars that passed them slowed slightly to observe the encounter taking place, the drivers eager to gather some gossip they could take home and share over the dinner table.

Aiden got out and slammed his door shut and then looked directly at Buck Fern, searching the old man’s grey eyes for some hint of rationality.

“Where you headed?” Buck drawled out the words as though he had all the time in the world to kill.

“Home,” Aiden instinctively replied. Then he realized that this wasn’t entirely true. He had planned to swing by the office and speak with Betty. Before he left Edmond, his dwindling colleague had insisted that he inform his loyal secretary of the severity of his condition.

“But don’t go worrying the old girl too much,” Edmond advised. “Just tell her the basics. Seems word is getting out and if she hears it from anyone other than you or I there will be hell to pay!”

Aiden ran a hand through his hair and felt the stifling heat of the afternoon beginning to penetrate through his shirt and cause his skin to break out in beads of sweat. He yearned to be back in the air-conditioned comfort of his car.

“Did you stop me just to ask where I’m going?” Aiden cried angrily. He lacked the patience for Buck Fern’s games. The old sherriff had picked the wrong time to try and rattle his cage.

“Partly,” Buck admitted, smirking slightly. “I thought you might be skipping town.”

“Skipping town? What? Why?”

“I think you’d do well to skip town,” Buck continued.

“I’m sure you do think that,” Aiden glanced back longingly at his car.

“Your wife received anymore of those strange letters?”

Aiden felt his whole body suddenly chill despite the heat of the day. He looked at Buck with renewed interest. “What makes you ask that?”

“Last time I saw Mrs. Connelly she was real worried about some threatening letters ya’ll had received telling you to leave Avalon.”

“They were just the laments of some bitter crackpot,” Aiden told him sourly. “Nothing to be taken seriously.”

“No?” Buck’s eyes widened and his tone elevated mockingly. “She seemed real concerned by them. And with good reason. People round here, they don’t like being ignored.”

“Look!” Aiden raised a hand towards the sherriff. “If you want to make thinly veiled threats, go ahead, but this isn’t the time.”

Angrily, Aiden began to storm back towards his car.

“I’m not sure how ethical it is to discuss a paternity case with someone other than your client,” Buck called after him. He was talking about his brother’s paternity case which Aiden had previously handled, albeit badly. His personal feelings for Brandy had managed to cause him to blur the lines surrounding his professional integrity.

Aiden paused with his hand just over the door handle which was already sizzling with heat beneath the sun.

“Did you think nothing would come of it?” Buck began advancing towards Aiden with those same slow, deliberate steps. “My brother is not a man to be trifled with, Mr. Connelly. He knows all about what you did. How you kept the truth about Davis’ paternity from him. How you ran off to Chicago to divulge it all to Brandy White. He knows what you did and you know he harbours a grudge.”

Sighing, Aiden looked towards the sherriff.

“I only ever acted in the best interests of the child.”

“First, you’re not a social worker, you’re a lawyer,” Buck pointed an accusing finger at Aiden as he spoke. “Second, telling Brandy White ain’t in the best interests of the child. You acted inappropriately, Mr. Connelly. At every turn within that case. My brother wants you disbarred and run out of town.”

“I’m sure you share your brother’s sentiments on that,” Aiden replied stiffly.

“You’re right there,” Buck smiled cruelly beneath his trademark Stetson. “But I’m much more forgiving than my brother. You’ve got one week, Mr. Connelly. One week to pack up and leave Avalon for good or else my brother will ruin you professionally. And you don’t want that, do you? To bring shame upon that young family of yours?”

Aiden struggled to absorb what Buck Fern was saying. He was blatantly making threats in the hope of running him out of town, but all Aiden could think about was Edmond.

Buck drew closer to him and scrutinized Aiden’s face. As he did so he suddenly straightened in shock.

“You been crying, boy?”

Surprised, Aiden wiped at his eyes. Sure enough they felt sore and slightly damp. He had been crying. As he drove away from Edmond’s house he must have unknowingly shed tears of despair as he tried to distract himself with the melodies from the radio.

“I…” Aiden floundered beneath the sherriff’s interrogation. He didn’t want to start discussing Edmond’s condition with him.

“I asked you a question.” Buck scowled in annoyance as he waited on his answer.

“Yes,” Aiden admitted helplessly. “I guess I was crying for a bit.”

“And what would make a grown man cry?” Buck’s voice lacked empathy or concern. His words were as sharp as steel and he directed them to cut against Aiden and increase his apparent anguish.

“It’s none of your business,” Aiden told him tersely, gripping the door handle and opening up his car as he prepared to leave.

“Everything is my business,” Buck placed his hand upon the open door like a claw, preventing Aiden from departing.

Aiden looked the old man directly in the eye, silently pleading with him to not press the matter further.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“How about I cuff you and take you back to my office? Think you might want to talk then?” Buck threatened.

Aiden closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. Clearly there was no way he was going to get rid of Buck Fern and his unending desire to pry into his personal business unless he gave him the truth he sought.

“I went to see Edmond.”

Buck immediately released his grip on the car door and stepped back slightly. He turned away from Aiden, gazing back down the long road upon which they had both been driving.

“I heard,” Buck said, still not looking at Aiden, “about his condition. It is truly a sorry state of affairs.”

“You hear through Clyde White?”

“Mmm.” Buck sharply turned back to face Aiden, his mouth drawn in a tight line.

“Can I go now?” Aiden gestured towards his car.

“Edmond Copes is a good man,” Buck declared fervently. “He’s a son of Avalon and everyone in this town loves him. Even you.”

Aiden flinched with surprise. It almost sounded like the old sherriff was paying him a compliment.

“I hate to see a good man suffer,” Buck lowered his head and spat into the road. When he looked back up at Aiden, some of the hate that burned behind his eyes seemed to have dissipated.

“Until Edmond is well again, you get a free pass in my eyes.”

Aiden straightened. The last person he expected to show any compassion regarding Edmond’s illness was Buck Fern.

“I do have a heart beating in this old chest of mine,” Buck clasped a hand against his regulation shirt.

“Edmond is a friend. If you take off now, he’ll be hurt. Last thing I want to do is hurt him. He needs us all right now.”

“Thank you?” Aiden said uncertainly. He wasn’t sure he truly understood what was transpiring between them.

“But once Edmond is well enough to get back on his feet, you tell him you’re done with Avalon and that you’re heading back to the city. We don’t need your kind round here, Mr. Connelly. You made an enemy of my brother which means that your days here are numbered.”

“Can I go now?”

“Yeah,” Buck sighed, waving a dismissive hand. “Go.”

Aiden was in the driver’s seat, about to drive off, when Buck reappeared at his window. The old man tapped it gently to instruct him to wind it down.

“Yes, sherriff?” Aiden asked, trying not to lose what little patience he had left.

“How was he? You said you’d just been to see Edmond. How was he?”

Aiden felt fresh tears start to push against his eyes.

“He’s…sick. He’s really sick.”

Buck tilted his head to once again spit upon the ground.

“He’s still got some fight in him though?” he asked hopefully.

“Definitely,” Aiden nodded a little too eagerly. “Edmond isn’t the sort of man to go down without a fight.”

“Yeah,” Buck smiled slightly at this. “I figured.” Then his gaze hardened once more as he looked back at Aiden.

“This thing between you and my brother. It ain’t over, Mr. Connelly. It’s just paused.”

“I understand.”

The old sherriff finally turned and started back towards his patrol car. Aiden waited until he’d pulled away and had driven out of sight before he manoeuvred his own car back on to the road. As much as he wanted to be heading home, he knew he owed Betty a visit.

*

Whenever Brandy entered her apartment the ritual was always the same. She’d cast off her coat, letting it fall across the back of her sofa, and then she’d rush over to her answering machine, buoyed by hope. Eagerly she’d cast her eyes across the digital display and when she saw that it starkly read zero, she’d lean against the nearby kitchen counter, deflated.

Why hadn’t Aiden called? Brandy had even taken to picking up her handset and checking that her line was still working. When she heard the dull drone of the open line her heart would plummet further, almost falling all the way down to her feet.

Filled with longing and despair, she would then eventually drift into her kitchen where she’d begin preparing her evening meal for one. As she boiled pasta and stirred vegetables, her mind would drift back to her last conversation with Aiden. She scrutinized every word, every facial expression, but try as she might, she couldn’t find any evidence to support his sudden abandonment of her.

The sound of her phone ringing made Brandy almost drop the spoon she was holding with shock. No one ever called. The shrill sound echoed around her apartment, shattering her standard evening ritual.

Brandy hurried over to the handset and answered the call. A part of her desperately wanted to hear Aiden’s voice on the other end of the line but it was Rhonda’s jovial tone which found its way to her ear drum.

“Brandy, hey,” Rhonda greeted her.

“Hi,” Brandy smiled thinly as she moved to sit on her sofa.

“I just wondered what you were doing tonight,” Rhonda asked. Brandy glanced around her apartment. She was doing what she did every night; making dinner for one followed by an evening sat eating ice cream from the tub and crying over a chick-flick. She had plans to mope.

“Not much,” Brandy replied nonchalantly.

“Wrong!” Rhonda declared excitedly. “You’re coming out with me!”

“I am?”

“Yep! I’m picking you up at eight-thirty and we are going to check out this new club downtown!”

“Oh.” Brandy looked across sadly at her television. She savoured the comfort of watching romantic movies on it and allowing herself to get lost in the plot. It enabled her to escape the mess which was her own love life.

“You need to stop moping around that apartment of yours and get out!” Rhonda insisted brightly.

Brandy wasn’t so sure. Her apartment had become safe and familiar. As much as she loved exploring Chicago, an evening in a club would mean meeting people. People who would ask for her story, for where she was from. As soon as anyone knew she was a widow who had almost been convicted of murdering her deceased husband they’d surely run a mile? Aiden had never once judged her for her past; she didn’t think someone new would be nearly as kind.

“You’re a beautiful Southern belle with a sparkling personality,” Rhonda told her confidently, seemingly aware of her colleague’s misgivings.

Brandy absently picked at a loose thread on her sofa as she listened. Lately her sparkle seemed to have dulled. Ever since Aiden hadn’t made good on his promise to return to her, Brandy had felt different, like she’d lost her anchor and was now adrift.

“People don’t need to know about your past,” Rhonda said softly. “That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it? That people will judge you?”

“Won’t they?” Back in Avalon everyone had judged Brandy. She couldn’t walk a block without hearing whispered negative comments carried back to her on the breeze. She tried to hold her head high, to rise above it but people looked at her as though she were an unwanted bug which they desperately wanted to destroy. Even after her name had been cleared following Brandon’s death, she couldn’t lose the harsh judgement of Avalon’s residents. Their cruel opinions seemed to have stuck to her, making them unchangeable and permanent.

“No!” Rhonda insisted. “You need to go out, do some shots, dance and forget all about your mystery man back home!”

“Mmm,” Brandy still wasn’t convinced.

“Because let’s face it, Brandy. He’s clearly forgotten about you.”

Rhonda’s observation was harsh but true and it was just what Brandy needed to hear.

“I’ll go.” She nodded assertively.

“Good girl!” Rhonda declared triumphantly. “See you at eight-thirty. Wear something inappropriate.”

Brandy ended the call and let the silence of her apartment settle over her. She knew that Rhonda was right, not just about the fact that she needed to get out but also about Aiden having forgotten about her. And sitting around on her own, night after night, wasn’t going to change anything. If he was going to call then he’d have called. Brandy stood up purposefully and marched in the direction of her bedroom to select an outfit to wear for the evening.

*

Aiden parked up outside the Copes and May offices and glanced inside. He could see Betty positioned neatly behind her desk, typing away with her glasses perched precariously on the end of her nose. He didn’t like what he was about to do.

“Ah, Mr. Connelly,” Betty greeted him brightly, removing her glasses as she looked up from her computer monitor so that they were hanging around her neck.

“How did everything go with Clyde White? I hope he didn’t give you too frosty a reception.”

“He was as expected,” Aiden raised his shoulders slightly. “I came away in one piece which was all I could have hoped for.”

“Oh, good.” Betty went to put her glasses back on when she realized that instead of continuing on to his own office, Aiden was hovering awkwardly by her desk.

“Coffee?” she asked him. “I’ll just finish this payment and then I’ll get right on it.”

“Actually, I need to talk to you.”

“Oh.” Betty turned and gave him her full attention, her eyes bright with interest.

“Can you come in my office?” Aiden suggested.

“Of course.” Betty immediately stood up and carefully straightened her skirt before following Aiden into his office.

“Take a seat.” Aiden gestured to Edmond’s chair. Tentatively, Betty lowered herself into it, clasping her hands neatly in her lap and leaning forward like a child awaiting sentencing from an angry teacher.

“I need to talk to you about Edmond,” Aiden sighed, leaning against his desk rather than sitting.

“Oh?”

“When I went to see Clyde White he told me that Edmond is more than a bit sick. That he’s actually terminally ill.”

“Oh my.” Betty’s left hand fluttered up to her chest as she took a sharp intake of breath.

“So following my appointment with Mr. White, I went to check in on Edmond. You know how he is; he kept us in the dark to prevent worrying us. But it’s cancer, Betty, and it’s bad.”

Betty wore a grave expression as she stared intently at the carpeted floor, one hand still resting upon her chest.

“I hate being the bearer of bad news but he wanted you to know. He expressly asked me to come and tell you.”

Betty began to shake her head woefully.

“No,” she uttered, her voice barely audible. “Not him too!”

Aiden went and knelt beside her, cupping her right hand in his own.

“He’s one of the good ones, Mr. Connelly,” Betty declared as she looked up to meet his gaze. Watery pools gathered beneath her eyes and began to slowly burst their banks and descend down the wrinkled crevasses in her cheeks.

“I know,” Aiden tightened his grip on her hand which was trembling with despair. “And please, call me Aiden.”

Betty’s entire body began to shudder as her tears intensified. Aiden sat and held her hand as she cried, knowing there was little else he could do to comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” Betty muttered as she tried to compose herself.

“Don’t be.”

“May I be excused?” Betty struggled to her feet and wiped some of the tears from her face.

“Of course,” Aiden immediately replied. “Take all the time you need, Betty. I know how much you care for Edmond.”

“Will he accept visitors?” she asked, her voice on the cusp of breaking.

“Yes,” Aiden nodded. “But perhaps wait until tomorrow. Edna mentioned that having visitors tires him.”

“Then may I take leave tomorrow to visit him?”

“Absolutely.”

Betty took slow, deep breaths as her sorrow subsided. Carefully she straightened both her hair and her outfit.

“He’s more than an employer to me,” she told Aiden with certainty. “He’s a friend.”

“I feel the same way.”

“That’s the magic of Avalon,” Betty added wistfully. “There are no strangers here, only family. It’s why people never leave.”

Aiden resisted pointing out that he was still very much a stranger in the eyes of the majority of Avalon’s residents.

He watched Betty leave, sharing her anguish. Edmond was indeed a good man and a good friend to them both. Alone in his office, Aiden began to contemplate his time spent in Avalon. Edmond had always been there to watch over him, to guide him. He was one of the few people in town who were proud of Aiden’s triumph with Brandy’s case. Everyone else felt like Aiden had betrayed the memory of Brandon White by exposing the truth, but Edmond could see past that and saw the tremendous victory that had occurred; that Aiden had saved the life of an innocent woman.

Thinking about Brandy made Aiden’s whole body tense with guilt. He should have called her. He knew that. He owed her an explanation, he owed her a goodbye. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, leaned back in his chair and made the call he’d been dreading.

*

Brandy rarely drank. After she’d downed the third shot Rhonda had bought her, she began to feel like she was floating and that the whole world had tilted on its axis. Dreamily she manoeuvred herself on to the dance floor where the rest of the evening became a blur of neon lights and pounding melodies which encouraged her body to move at a frenzied pace.

Somehow Brandy made it back to her apartment. She didn’t remember Rhonda struggling to place her in a cab, or how the driver insisted that if she threw up he’d kick her out. She didn’t remember anything until she woke up face down on her bed, atop all of the covers and still wearing her outfit from the night before.

The sun burned brightly through her windows. Having been too drunk to close her curtains, it seared across the bed and caused Brandy to wince and move. As she rolled over she felt almost blinded by its brilliance.

“Owww,” she shielded her eyes and groggily sat up. The room spun slightly but then settled. Brandy raised a hand to her head which felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool balls as she slept.

“Owww,” she moaned again as she pushed herself off the bed and headed for her main living area where she poured herself a glass of water which she downed in one. Her throat felt brittle and dry, as if she had been eating sandpaper all evening.

The water helped the sensation, but only a little. Everything ached. Brandy already wanted to go back to bed and sleep away the discomfort. She was about to turn back around and return to her room when she noticed the display on her answering machine was flashing with the number one. Her heart froze in her chest and for a prolonged moment she stared at it in disbelief. Then she pressed play and stood and listened to her solitary message.

“Brandy, it’s me, Aiden. I know I should have called sooner but…I’m sorry. I can’t, I won’t be coming to Chicago. Things here in Avalon are…complicated. I’m sorry, Brandy. Truly I am. Please don’t hate me.”

Brandy played the message three more times. After the third round of apologies, she firmly pressed the delete button and retreated back to her bedroom, taking care to close her curtains and seal herself off from the world outside.

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