Not What it Seems by Nicky James

Twenty

Cyrus

The puzzle pieces were all in front of me. They fit together, but the picture they created was not one my brain wanted to accept or understand. It made no sense, yet, somehow, deep inside, it made perfect sense.

But how? Why?

The man on Rose’s phone, her dead sister’s secret lover and father to her baby, was a man I knew of but had never personally met. I recognized him from photographs and brochures. Once, a long time ago, I’d seen him doing an interview on TV.

His son was his spitting image.

What was worse, it had been the first thing I’d noticed about River when we’d met. I’d made the unconscious comparison without even realizing what it meant.

Nausea stirred my gut. I didn’t know what to make of it.

“Are you okay?” Rose asked. “You’ve gone pale.”

I shoved the phone across the table, rising and abandoning my drink. My legs wobbled as reality crashed in around me. The photograph had answered numerous questions but left me with a thousand more. My brain was sluggishly trying to catch up, and I didn’t like what I was seeing.

“I have to go. I’m sorry.”

“You know him.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. In a way.”

“You have to help me.”

“I’m going to try.”

Finding change, I tossed enough money on the table to cover our drinks, then I fumbled my phone from my pocket. There was a voice mail from the unknown caller. I swiped it away and searched for the number for the motel where River and I had stayed. I glanced back at Rose apologetically, mouthing another sorry as I departed without explanation.

Maybe I’d lost my mind. Maybe my theory was convoluted. The police might think I was reaching, seeing things that weren’t there, but there was a connection. It would be foolish to ignore it. Maybe it was all coincidence, but I didn’t think so.

Rose chased me out of the diner and called after me as I ran down the road toward my car, dialing the number for the motel as I went. When the receptionist came on, I asked to be connected to the room where we’d been staying, only to be informed the people in that room had checked out. River must have returned the keys to the front desk and left.

“Dammit.” He could hate me all he wanted, but I needed to talk to him. He needed to know what I’d learned.

I fumbled my key, unlocking the car. In the driver’s seat, I started the engine. A quick search on the city of London’s directory page gave me an address. Funny, when you were looking up the right name, it was way easier. Mr. Elusive himself had been found.

I took a screenshot and glanced out the windshield. Rose stood a block away, watching me. The poor woman was distraught, but the best way to help her was to get this information to the police.

Except I was losing my standing with them. It was after six. I hadn’t shown up with the files they’d requested, and as far as I knew, they had a warrant out for my arrest. They likely suspected I was with River, helping him.

“Not too far-fetched.”

I drove back toward the motel, hoping I might catch River lingering about. After weaving along several streets in the vicinity for over forty minutes, I gave up and parked on the side of the road. I pulled out my phone, unsure what to do. I had to report this information. I had to tell River.

There was another call from a different unknown number that had come through while I’d been frantically driving around and another voice mail. Was it the police trying to contact me?

I selected the message I’d dismissed earlier and listened. It wasn’t the police, and my breath caught when River’s voice sounded in my ear.

“Hey. It’s me. I just…” River cleared his throat with a cough. “I just wanted to… You ran off and didn’t let me explain. I’m not sure how to say this. I’m not sure if you want to hear it. I like you. A lot. I… there’s more there, Cy. Between us. I know you probably don’t believe me. It’s kinda new for me. You’re more than a fling, okay. You’re more than a one-night stand. I… I don’t know what can happen considering… well, you know. I’m not even sure I’m the best person for you, but I swear I will never treat you like that punk-ass ex of yours. You’re pretty fucking amazing. I know you don’t see it, but I want to spend time showing you how great you are. You have a really big heart, and it deserves to be taken care of. Not abused. If this stuff works out… If… Maybe we could…” He sighed. “I’m going to find him. I’m going to hunt him down, and he’s going to pay for what he’s done to me. What he’s done to those girls. Anyway, I’m leaving the hotel. If you get this message, I’m going to the old neighborhood to bang on doors until someone gives me answers. I know the risks, but I have to find out where he went. So, um… be safe. I… Thank you for all you did.”

The message ended. I couldn’t breathe. The phone fell into my lap, and I stared unseeing at the traffic driving down the road. Hope and fear mingled at the outskirts of my consciousness. Neither could touch me. I was numb, unable to process the possibility of what River had meant in that message. It was real. He’d felt it too. My heart slammed against my ribs.

Or was he just another manipulative man?

A niggling thought occurred to me. Maybe I was the pawn in a dangerous game. Maybe he’d known the truth all along.

Was it possible?

“No.” I didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t.

I picked up my phone and pulled up the second message that had been left more recently. It was River again.

“Hey, it’s me. I found him. I have an address.” He rhymed it off. “Tell the police if you can. I’m going to confront him. I know it isn’t safe, but I don’t have a choice. I’ll be careful. I promise. I… I hope we can talk again. I meant what I said before. All right, I gotta go.”

The message ended. Blood roared in my ears. River had found the address, and it was a match for the one I’d found moments ago. River was going to confront his father, but he didn’t have all the information. He didn’t see the whole picture.

I dialed the unknown number he’d used the second time. A kid answered.

“What? Who is this?”

“I’m looking for the man who made a call recently from this phone. Is he there? Is he around?”

“No, man. He took off.”

“Shit. How long ago?”

“I don’t know. Half an hour ago or something. Maybe more.”

I thanked him, and the kid hung up.

I didn’t want to do it, but I wasn’t sure I had a choice any longer. River was walking into danger. If I didn’t go after him, who knew what might happen. But I couldn’t do it alone. I wasn’t that guy. I wasn’t brave enough or strong enough.

I called the London Police.

When the receptionist at the station picked up, I demanded to speak with Detective Allen, the same woman I’d spoken to before. My professionalism had gone out the window. While I waited for the call to connect, I tried to make sense of the jumbled mess of information that had landed in my lap over the past couple of hours. I went back to the beginning to see if I could make everything fit. It was twisted and warped, but I could almost make it work. There were things I still didn’t know or understand, but it wasn’t hard to assume what might have happened.

Detective Jasmine Allen came on the line. The woman was not happy.

“Dr. Irvine, you are causing a world of problems for yourself right now. I’m going to strongly advise—”

“Justice Adams is not an alias for River Jenkins. He is a sixty-three-year-old man named Terrance Overton. Look him up. If you’ve done half the legwork on this case that I have, the connections will be glaringly obvious. I will gladly explain them if they aren’t, but I don’t have time right now. River’s walking into trouble, and I need to help him.”

“Dr. Irvine, if you know where—”

“Trust me. You need to take a team of officers to this address.” I rhymed off the address twice. “I’m telling you. You’re chasing the wrong man. You know those girls in the morgue weren’t killed by River, and you know their deaths are connected. I’m giving you the connection. Follow the lead and do your fucking jobs. Go to that address. River has gone to confront his father, but he doesn’t know what he’s walking into. There’s too much to explain. Just get there.”

Before she could reply, I hung up and put the car in gear. For a fleeting moment before I pulled into the street, I closed my eyes and saw the near future and the implosion of my career. I saw the disappointed looks on my parents’ faces.

A wave of emotion wanted to engulf me, the ground beneath my feet wanted to crumble, but I held it back and focused on what I needed to do. I’d mourn my ruined life later. River needed help.

I drove over the speed limit toward the address I’d found for Terrance Overton—River’s father.

The neighborhood was like I imagined, a wealthier suburb of London. When Grant and I had bought our house together several years ago, we’d looked for a place to live in a similar area with houses equally grand. I could have afforded the higher prices, but Grant’s income depended on how much he felt like working. And his earnings usually went toward more schooling and not bills.

We’d fought. A lot.

I’d won for a change.

The luxury of the neighborhood where Terrance Overton lived reeked of privilege. I pulled up alongside the curb at the correct address. The house was lit up, but the curtains were drawn. There was no car in the driveway, no sign of danger or impending doom. All seemed quiet.

Where was River? Was he inside? Had he made it here before me? Was he safe?

My heart thumped out of control.

I got out of the car and headed for the front entrance where I stalled. The door was not shut tight. The latch hadn’t caught. A nudge from my toe would open it. It was not a good sign.

Adrenaline had taken me this far. If someone was inside, I didn’t want to do something stupid like knock and alert them to my presence. I hoped the police were on their way.

Before I came to my senses, I pushed the door inward. The bottom edge brushed along a thick carpet, hampering the movement. I shouldered it the rest of the way open and went inside.

An eerie silence engulfed me, yet I knew I wasn’t alone. Call it instinct or a gut feeling, but there was a presence somewhere in the house. Who that presence was remained a mystery. I followed the hallway past a spotless sitting room and into a kitchen. Framed photographs lined the walls and confirmed what I already knew.

I couldn’t look into the faces of the people beyond the glass. It was too unsettling.

When I made it to the other end of the house, my nose caught the scent of decay, which kick-started my imagination and made my heart pound faster. Something had died in this house.

Someone.

My fingers twitched, reaching for the phone in my pocket. The urge to call the police again was strong, but they should be on their way. If they’d listened, they would be right behind me.

A creak sounded from down a hallway to my right, a door hinge whining and protesting. I stilled, listening. The pulse of blood roaring in my ears was deafening. I strained to hear beyond it, wanting to determine a risk level. Who was here? Was it River? Was he alone?

Was this a trap?

Before I could talk myself out of it, I followed the noise. The smell was worse in the hallway. I pressed my arm to my nose and cringed, telling myself that whoever was dead had been for a long time. I’d seen River that afternoon. It wasn’t him.

But it was of little comfort, considering the killer was likely stalking River’s every move.

And mine.

This was not the family reunion River needed.

Another sound caught my attention. An exclamation of pain? A grunt?

I wanted to call out, but I didn’t want to give up the element of surprise. Moving faster, I aimed for the end of the hall and the only open door.

I was a foot away when a familiar voice said, “Fuck me.”

Stepping into the open doorway, I took in the scene. My stomach turned somersaults. It was a bloodbath. Fiona Overton was sitting in a chair, arms and legs bound, mouth taped shut, a dark pool of blood surrounding her. River stood a few feet away, stunned, slack-jawed, staring at the poor dead woman.

My legs wobbled, threatening to topple me, and I grabbed the door frame for support.

River whirled around, dropping into a fighting stance.

Our eyes locked, and it took him a second longer to register I wasn’t the enemy. “Cyrus?”

Flashing my gaze to Fiona and back to River, taking in the scene, I managed to choke out a greeting. “Hey. I got your message.”

“He’s not here.”

“No. But I think I know where he is.” I swallowed a lump. We weren’t talking about the same person. “And I don’t think it’s your dad doing this to you.”

River’s forehead creased. “What are you talking about? This is his house. I saw the pictures. You heard what my mother said.”

“I know, but…”

The room we were in was a guest room, but it was no less decorated than the rest of the house. A framed family portrait sat on the bedside table. I picked it up, staring into the face of the man who’d spent two years messing with my head. The man who had a passion for arguing with me, proving he was superior. A man who’d gone out of his way to get a rise out of me and cut me down every chance he got.

He was in his midtwenties in the picture, younger than the man I’d thought I’d loved, but the same in so many ways. I handed the picture to River.

He pointed to the older man with the silvering hair. “My father.”

“Yeah.” I pointed to the younger man. “Your brother.”

“Half brother. I figured.”

“I think he found out you existed. I think he found out about the years and years of infidelity. And I don’t think he was happy about it. He’s always been short-tempered and wildly vindictive when he feels cheated and wronged. He never got along with his father. Daddy set boundaries he didn’t like, and they fought a lot, at least until the next time he needed something. Then he kissed ass.”

River lifted his gaze to me. “How do you know all that?”

I wet my lips and looked into River’s haunted hazel eyes. “His name is Grant Overton.”

River flinched, his attention darting from me to the picture and back. Shock radiated across his face. “What? As in Grant the fuckwad ex?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not possible. How? I…” River’s gaze turned inward as he shook his head.

I didn’t have all the answers. I didn’t know how I’d ended up involved or if it was on purpose, but knowing Grant, he’d cooked up this whole scheme because it entertained him. He’d discovered something about his father, and it had sent him over the edge. A small part of me had always seen a darker side in him. I had never pointed it out because there would have been hell to pay, but it had always been there, under the surface.

He was smart enough to pull this off; that much I knew. And if he was angry enough, there wasn’t anything that would stand in his way from seeking revenge.

“I never met his parents,” I explained. “Grant and his father were always on the outs. If they got along, it wasn’t for long periods of time.”

Sirens blaring in the distance jarred us both to attention. River staggered back a step, the photograph still clutched in his hands. He stared at the dead woman, then at me. “The police are coming. They’re going to think I did this.”

“No they won’t.” My tone lacked conviction. “I called them. I told them.”

But I hadn’t gone into detail. I might be able to piece together a plausible explanation, but would they listen?

River stared at the dead woman. “She’s the one who was helping him. You said whoever was running the show would dominate eventually. He killed her.”

“I think so. He probably told her what his father had done and drew her to his side. Grant was good at that.”

“But where’s my father? Is he dead too?”

Knowing Grant, understanding his psyche, I didn’t think so. He would thrive on torturing the man for as long as possible, getting as many names and details as he could out of him until he got bored. Then he’d kill him.

The sirens were closer. There was no time to think this through. I had a pretty good idea where Grant was holed up. Snagging River’s arm, I dragged him down the hall and toward the front door. He stumbled to keep up, asking question after question.

Outside, we ran for my car. River was still clinging to the picture frame as I fumbled the keys into the ignition. The car roared to life, and I kicked it into gear, pulling out into the street just as police cars rounded the corner ahead.

It took everything in me not to burn rubber and race away. Casually, as though I’d been driving down the road the whole time, I aimed for the end of the block. River knew enough to duck.

Night was encroaching, and the shadows were deep enough I didn’t think anyone would see his face and recognize him. How long until the police found the body? Did they have the authority to enter the house without a warrant? Had we closed the door tight behind us?

I didn’t have a clue.

“Where are we going?” River asked when I’d wound down a few side streets, neurotically checking the rearview mirror to see if anyone was following us.

“To hopefully save your father’s life.”

River bounced in the passenger seat when I hit a pothole. He gripped the dash to stop himself from lurching forward. “And Grant did this? You’re sure? The Grant? I’m confused.”

“I don’t have all the answers, but yes. The Grant. I’m ninety-percent sure.”

“He’s my brother?” River’s voice rose an octave and cracked.

“Yes.”

“Let me get this straight. Grant, your ex, is my father’s son. My brother.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“Process it later. We don’t have time for feelings and emotions right now. Pack it up.”

“Excuse me? That was very unpsychologist of you.”

“For the last time, I’m a psychiatrist. There’s a difference. Besides, I think things are going to get ugly. If you want a referral when this is over, come talk to me. Otherwise, keep your shit together.”

River gaped. “Who are you? What have you done with Cyrus?”

“Don’t.”

“No, seriously. What is happening? Are you okay? Did you bang your head?”

“No,” I shouted. “I’m the farthest thing from okay, but if I can’t process right now, neither can you. Can we focus?”

“Grant, your ex, is my brother?”

A scream rose at the back of my throat, and I gripped the steering wheel so tight my knuckles popped.

“Okay, okay. I won’t ask again. Jesus. This is… You know, this whole time, I’ve been fighting for my innocence, determined to prove to the cops I wasn’t a killer. But now, they might have a solid reason for locking me up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”

“No you aren’t.”

River laughed, but there was no humor behind it. “Oh, yes I am. Not just because he made a shitshow of my life but because he brought you into it, and I’ll be fucking damned if he thinks he’s going to hurt you again and get away with it. Over my dead body.”

A warmth grew in my belly. The message River had left on my phone earlier came back to me. The raw honesty. The revelations. The way he’d stumbled to find the right words.

My voice caught in my throat, and suddenly, the argument died off.

River must have realized the implications behind his words at the same time. He turned away, glancing out the window.

My head was too much of a mess for this. I took a corner too sharp, and the tires jumped the curb, jolting us again.

River’s head ricocheted off the side window, and he swore. “If you don’t slow down, I’m going to have a concussion, or we’re going to get pulled over.”

“We don’t have time to drive according to the rules.”

He was staring at me. From the corner of my eye, I could tell he was gaping. “Yeeaah, okay. We’re going to revisit this moment later and analyze what you just said. But for the moment, please listen to me. The timing of a traffic violation would hurt us right now.”

He was right. I let up on the gas as I took us around another bend and into a middle-class subdivision I was all too familiar with. River glanced around as I drove down a long, tree-lined cul-de-sac. The sun had dropped below the horizon. Although the sky was still a brilliant indigo blue, it was fading fast, and the shadows grew deeper. During daylight hours, the quaintness of the neighborhood was more obvious. It was why we’d chosen to live there in the first place. It had a way of exhibiting class without screaming it in your face.

I stopped a block down from the house and cut the engine.

“Where are we?” River asked.

“Home.”

He frowned.

“My old home. The one I shared with Grant. When I left, I let him have everything without contest. I was just happy to be away from him.”

River followed my gaze to a house near a bend in the road. “You think he’s here?”

“Look at the car in the driveway.”

“Oh shit. Is that a black Bentley? Why didn’t you tell me he drives a Bentley?”

“He doesn’t. Grant can’t afford a car like that. It’s his father’s. I’m assuming he helped himself to it when this all began.”

River rubbed the back of his neck. “So he’s here, and so is my father.”

“Seems so. But I don’t think your dad is here of his own free will.” And in a flash, with the realization of what we could be walking into, my steely nerves evaporated. “You know, maybe we should call the police. Give them this address and let them bust up the party. I don’t know if—”

“Fuck that.” River shouldered the door open. “I want that privilege.”

“River, wait! We should discuss—oof.” The seat belt—which I hadn’t removed—caught me and yanked me back into my seat when I tried to exit the car. “Stop. We need a plan.”

“I have a plan. Bash that fucker’s head in. It will be a lovely family reunion. Can’t wait. Hurry up, Doc.”

Cursing, I released the buckle and tumbled out of the car. Why the fuck not? I’d already buried my career six feet under. Might as well confront my psychotic ex, make the most of it, and hope we didn’t die.

I had to run to catch up to River. He was on a mission, barreling head-first into the unknown. Before he stormed up the path to the front door, I caught his arm and yanked him back. “Would you wait,” I hissed. “Not the front. What are you going to do? Knock? Seriously? This way.”

I encouraged him to follow me around the side of the house. It was overgrown with weeds in the narrow separation. I’d argued with Grant several times about making a pass with the lawnmower when he cut the grass, but I could see that suggestion had gone out the window when I’d moved out. He’d always hated chores and was the king of cutting corners.

There were deep window wells along the side of the house, but a quick glance showed they were covered with dark blinds. No light came from beyond, so I assumed Grant wasn’t downstairs. It was an unfinished basement, a place we’d used for storage.

At the backyard gate, I stood on my toes and reached over the tall fence to unclasp the latch, hoping Grant hadn’t gotten around to putting a lock on it like we’d talked about a hundred times.

Luck was on my side.

I slid the wooden door open and ushered River ahead of me. We slinked into the yard beyond, the tall, uncut grass brushing our ankles. Landscaping had gone by the wayside, it seemed. It was a small, unimpressive backyard. No garden beds, no shed, no bushes or trees. It was a plain flat piece of land with grass and a few patio stones where we’d put the barbecue and lawn furniture.

The back door entered into the kitchen. It was dark on the other side of the window that sat above the kitchen sink. River crept toward it, stood on his tiptoes, and peeked inside, cupping his hands over his face to get a better look.

“I can’t see anyone,” he whispered.

I was already searching for the spare key we’d kept under a loose patio stone near the door. I doubted Grant had moved it. In fact, I doubted he remembered it was there. Getting locked out had always been my worry, not his.

“Bingo.” I held up the small key and grinned.

River met me at the back door, but when I went to slide the key into the lock, he took it from my hand.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

“What’s your plan?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Well, I do. Let me go first.”

I snatched the key back. “You are not going in there and playing vigilante. He’s my ex.”

River grabbed the key from me. “He’s my fucked-up brother.”

I made a grab for the key but missed when River held it out of reach.

“I know him better than you,” I hissed.

“Exactly. I’m more detached and therefore more levelheaded.”

“Detached and levelheaded? You just said you were going to bash his head in.”

“And I am, so move.”

“Are we really arguing about this right now?”

“Nope. I’m the one he framed, so you’re going to let me go first because this has nothing to do with you.”

I threw my hands up. “This has nothing to do with me? Are you serious? Do you think this is all some coincidence? He set this up.”

“Yup.”

“He wanted me involved.”

“Maybe so.”

“Give me the stupid key. It’s my old house. I’m going first.”

“No.” River’s mouth quirked into a grin.

“Do you think this is funny? We are literally standing on the precipice.” I waved at the door. “We’re about to confront my psychopath ex, and you’re smirking and arguing with me like it’s no big deal.”

River leaned in and planted a soft kiss on my lips. “Man, I love it when you get all fired up. Now…” He kissed me once more, which was wholly distracting. “Let me go first for my sanity, okay?”

“I’m a big boy,” I mumbled, my ego still bruised but my nerve-endings alive with new energy.

“I know you are. And I swear to god, you’re going to show me this fiery, aggressive side again when this is all over because it is hot as fuck.”

I flushed, stammered, and shut my mouth when I couldn’t find the right words.

River winked and fit the key in the lock.