Chapter Nine
ALFIE
Let’s not get it twisted. My one, true reason for having Piper clear my schedule isn’t for a personal matter. It’s not the flu, nor is it some bullshit golf retreat. It’s to ensure her prick of a father never lays another finger on her.
A week of mornings gives me time to watch their home, learn a few general habits and see what they get up to. If I had more time to scope out the house, it’d have been preferable. Four days is hardly enough time to come to accurate conclusions about the daily routine, but I don’t have the time.
He’s a biker, which means he’s dangerous. If I don’t start making the right moves, there’s no telling what might happen to my Piper.
The first three days start and end in the same fashion. Piper leaves the house around 6 AM. After she’s gone, there are hours of silence until 9 AM. That’s when her father makes his way out into the world. The mother leaves shortly after.
The house is empty between 9 AM and 12 PM when I leave to return to the office.
I’m in a beat-up jalopy I bought from a second-hand dealer, so that I could blend in with the rustic vibe of this farmer’s street.
I’m parked across the street from the Beckett residence, with a cold coffee in the cupholder and a stale croissant on the passenger seat.
After three days of inspecting, I’d hate for the routine to change now.
But it doesn’t.
Unlike the earlier days, when he wore trousers and a button-down, Piper’s father emerges from their home wearing jeans and a black leather jacket covered in the patches and insignias of his club. He gets on his motorcycle, revving the engine obscenely, and disappears along the road.
Her mother appears a while later, dressed in a ratty t-shirt, frayed joggers, and a pair of tattered trainers.
She catches a lift with someone in a dark blue Mercedes-Benz, with tinted windows.
It’s not my place to judge where she finds her fun.
As long as it’s away from her husband, she’s doing right by herself.
I collect a small duffel bag from the footwell of the passenger’s seat and make my way over to their house.
I scan my surroundings, making sure that there aren’t any cars coming or going before I scale the white fence.
From the front yard, I dash to the door, and with no surprise, I discover it’s unlocked.
One would think meth heads and bikers would be more cautious about locking doors, but their loss is my gain.
From inside the duffel bag, I draw my Beretta 92X.
It feels foreign in my grip. Once upon a time, I went shooting weekly to keep my eye and aim trained, but that pastime was replaced by the thrill of making money.
Let’s hope I don’t need to use it.
The house is quiet when I enter. The silence doesn’t stop me from clearing every room, from the kitchen to the shitter.
“Anyone home?” I call out, for good measure. I’m under the impression it’s only the three of them that live here, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. I suppose if Piper had any renegade siblings she’d have mentioned them to me last night before we…
Made love. There’s no other way to describe it. It wasn’t the hard, brash fucking I’m used to. It was the gentle caress of man and woman becoming one.
I shun those thoughts from my mind. I need to stay on high alert here.
The house stinks of stale liquor and cat piss. The beige walls, stained from floor to ceiling, only add to the disgust churning inside me. It’s no wonder Piper wants to run away from this life. Her family lives like animals in a man-made cage.
Once I’m certain the house is empty, I return to the living room.
I draw out the first of seven boxes from inside the black duffel bag.
Within that box, the tiny lens of my Silent Surveillance system waits.
But these won’t be linked to United Arms. Instead, I spent the last few days altering the code to have direct access to them.
Using my phone, I will know the comings and goings of the Beckett family, and I can keep an eye on Piper.
Under my protective watch, she’ll never be hurt again.
I install the cameras one by one in the various rooms. In the living room, I place it in the corner behind the father’s recliner.
The tiny black speck won’t stand out on the mucky walls.
In the kitchen, I set it up against the finishing of the topmost cupboard.
In the dining room, I press it into the dark wood display case holding remnants of fine china cups and plates, with mismatching silver cutlery.
And finally, in Piper’s room, the only space with a fresh coat of paint in the house, I hide it against the cupboard, slightly above the doors.
However, while I’m installing the final camera in Piper’s bedroom, I hear a ruckus in the hallway. It’s a woman, muttering incomprehensible words to herself, in between sniffling and stumbling along her path.
The mother’s home already? I check my watch, noticing I’ve overshot the mark by over an hour. Getting the cameras set up properly took longer than expected, and now I’m a sitting duck in her home.
But I’m in Piper’s bedroom. I should be safe here, at least for the time being. There wouldn’t be any reason for her to—
Piper’s doorhandle jingles while the thoughts rush through my mind. Ah, fuck. There’s no way of explaining this situation away. A man dressed in a three-piece suit sitting in her daughter’s bedroom?
I dive into the cupboard, narrowly getting inside as the door swings open. To avoid making noise, I left a sliver of the door open, and through it I see Piper’s mother enter. Martha, that’s what the dad called her, right?
The papery skin stretched across her face is soaked with tears. She fumbles her way to the bed, using the back of her wrist to wipe away tears. Martha drops onto the pastel pink and green bed set, clawing at a picture of Piper as a child on the bedside table.
I’ve been here, before. A long time ago. Standing in a similar cupboard, with a mother flying high while she weeps for a better tomorrow. Only, I was a child. No older than ten, skipping school because it seemed like a pointless waste of time.
“My baby girl,” Martha says, as she brings the picture to her chest. “I’m so sorry.”
Her words are meaningless. Pointless apologies for crimes already committed.
I saw it that day, all those years ago, and it became my turning point.
I refused to be like them. I conquered and fought my way to the top because I didn’t want to get lost in their world.
Their cruel cycle of who can I fuck to get my next score…
“You deserve so much better than this life,” Martha continues.
She’s right, and I’ll give it to Piper. No matter what.
Seeing Martha in this state gives me flashbacks of my mother. They burden my mind and leave a cold pit in my chest. A fleeting question crosses my mind; could I have done anything to change her situation?
The answer is no. People have to want to change, and people like Martha, her husband, and my mother have no inclination to do so. They want to live as animals do, finding pleasure in narcotics and liquor and squandering their lives away.
“I want to be better. I want to do right by you.” Martha holds the picture of Piper into the air, rubbing the little girl’s toothless smile with her thumb.
“And someday I will. Someday, you and I will get away from this place. We’ll jet off to paradise. I’ll make it all right, baby girl. You just gotta give me time. I’ll make it all right,” she speaks again and it breaks my heart.
Because her empty promises mean so much in this moment of sober clarity. But tonight, while she’s drowning herself in smoke and liquor, there’ll be no thoughts of a better tomorrow.
I sigh and turn away from the scene. No more remembering and no more hardships. I left this world behind a long time ago, and I forbid it from clawing me back in.
Martha leaves, and so do I, slipping out through Piper’s bedroom window before making a run for my car.