Chapter 2 #2
“It’s not too bad,” I say, gently pulling myself from her embrace and picking up my bags. She’s still staring at me, her eyes filled with emotion. Guilt hits me like a sack of bricks. I’ve been a shit son. “It’s good to see you, Mum.”
I close the door and step past her into the narrow hallway.
From what I can see, the house hasn’t changed.
It’s still meticulously clean with mismatched furniture that belonged to my grandparents, the dusty rose carpet piling in the high traffic area, and Mum’s collection of porcelain figurines lining the mantel.
The clutter somehow works, but the space seems so much smaller than I remember.
“Your room’s all ready,” she says, fussing with a spot on the staircase railing. “I’ve kept it just as you left it. Washed the linens and aired it out a bit. I did move some of my sewing things in there. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Thank you,” I say as I follow her up the narrow staircase. All our faded family photos still line the walls. Mum and me at the beach. Nana and Pops holding me as a baby. Me in my secondary school uniform. All smiles and hugs as if there wasn’t a gaping hole in our lives.
“How long will you be staying?” She can’t hide the real question from her tone. Are you finally coming home for good?
“Not sure yet,” I answer. “Got some business to sort out.”
She stops at the top of the stairs and turns to face me. “Your father’s business?”
“No,” I say firmly. “My own.”
I almost slip up and ask what she knows about my father’s business, but thankfully, I catch myself.
Her face falls slightly. She’s always pushed me toward him, treated him like he deserved our love and respect.
I could never figure out why. I’ve spent years resenting her for that.
For accepting Alfred’s money, for the lonely childhood I had while she worked multiple jobs, for the secrets she kept about my father until I was old enough to find out myself.
“Well, you’re welcome as long as you need. I’ve missed you, son.”
And here comes the guilt again. At least she’s getting it all out of the way from the start. Despite it all, I know she did her best. And who am I to think negatively about taking his money? I’m doing the very same thing.
“I’ve missed you too,” I say, reaching to give her hand a squeeze.
My old bedroom is exactly as I left it. The twin bed in the corner covered with my navy blue quilt, my small wooden desk pushed up against the wall with the window that overlooks the street.
There’s even a few of my drawings from art class hung up, the paper faded and curved at the edges.
The only addition is Mum’s sewing machine and neat piles of fabric scraps and pattern pieces.
“I’ll let you get settled,” she says, hovering in the doorway. “Dinner in an hour? Unless you want to rest.”
“Dinner sounds great,” I tell her. “I need to set up some equipment first though. Work stuff.” I start to unpack my gear from the first bag.
“Still with your computers, not much has changed there. Well, I’m making your favorite, shepherd’s pie. Thought you might be missing proper English food after all that American rubbish.”
If she only knew how delicious that American rubbish is.
“Want a cuppa? Or something to eat now?” She picks up a cable and fiddles with the end.
“I’m okay. Thanks, Mum.” She puts the cable down and sighs, hopefully taking my hint.
“Call if you change your mind.”
She leaves me to it, and I shut and lock the door behind her. Time to figure out how I’m going to fit everything on this small desk. Three laptops, external drives, various cables, and the specialized equipment I’ll need. This isn’t everything, most of it is still in New York, but I’ll make do.
Within twenty minutes, my childhood desk has transformed into a command center that young Leon would marvel at. At least Alfred’s money has gone to a good cause.
I power everything up and connect to a secure network, routing my connection through multiple layers of protection. The last thing I need is someone tracking my activities back here. The phone I snagged off that creep sits heavy in my pocket.
I pull it out and tap it open, finding nothing useful in his messages, just photos of that girl. Most likely, his business was done over the phone. Smart, I guess, but disappointing for me.
No names. No mention of who he works for. Certainly nothing about Bailey.
I connect it to my laptop and check it for anything hidden, but come up empty. Fucking wonderful. Even so, I copy everything to my secured drive before wiping it and removing the SIM card and battery. I’ll dispose of each part separately later.
A moment goes by where I wonder if I’ve genuinely gone mad. Was I seeing things that weren’t truly there earlier? Did I want that man to be a criminal, trafficking that woman? Or is that all I can see anymore after everything?
A knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. “Dinner’s nearly ready, love.”
“Okay, be down in a minute,” I say, pocketing the pieces of the man’s phone and grabbing my burner phone I’d been charging. With a hopeful sigh, I message my old friend.
Me: Cruz, it’s Leon. I’m back in London. Need to meet. Urgent.
He responds within seconds.
Cruz: Holy shit Colter… I thought you’d never set foot on this soil again. Usual spot? 11?
I glance at the time. That gives me a few hours to have dinner with Mum and get prepared.
Me: I’ll be there. Bring whatever you’ve got on trafficking activity. Paying well.
Cruz: Fuck, do I want to ask?
I think of Ray and his guys and that heaviness settles in my gut again.
Me: The least you know the better.
Cruz: Alright then. Just a warning mate, streets aren’t like before. Some heavy shit happening. Be careful.
Me: Thanks. Keep your head down as well, and make sure you’re not followed.
I slip the phone into my pocket and roll my lip ring between my teeth. Time to get through dinner with Mum. Make small talk, tell her just enough to satisfy her curiosity, then see what I’ve missed the past three years.