Road of the Dead Read Free

that certain cultures have certain beliefs regarding funeral arrangements…” His voice trailed off and he looked at Mum, hoping she’d help him out. But he was wasting his time. She just stared at him. He shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cause any offense or anything. I’m just trying to understand why you want to bury your daughter so quickly.”
    Mum stared at him. “My husband’s a gypsy—I’m not. He’s in prison, as I’m sure you’re aware—I’m not. I want to bury my daughter because she’s dead, that’s all. She’s my daughter. She’s dead. I want to bring her back home and put her to rest. Is that so hard to understand?”
    “No, of course…I’m sorry—”
    “And if you’re that concerned about my husband,” she added, “why don’t you let him out on compassionate leave?”
    “I’m afraid that’s in the hands of the prison authorities. If they think he poses a risk—”
    “John’s no risk.”
    Merton raised his eyebrows. “He’s serving a sentence for manslaughter, Mary.”
    Cole suddenly stood up. “Come on, Mum, let’s go. We don’t have to listen to this shit. I told you it was a waste of time.”
    Merton couldn’t help glaring at him. “We’re doing our best, Cole. We’re trying to find out who killed your sister.”
    Cole looked down at him and spoke quietly. “You just don’t get it, do you? We don’t care who killed her. She’s dead. It doesn’t matter who did it or why they did it or how she died—she’s dead. Dead is dead. Nothing can change that. Nothing. All we want to do is bury her. That’s all we can do—bring her home and get on with our lives.”
    Cole didn’t say anything on the way back, and Mum was too tired and empty to talk. So, as we walked the familiar backstreets through the hazy May sunshine, I just soaked up the silence and let my mind wander around the things I knew and the things I didn’t.
    I knew the Dead Man had killed Rachel.
    I didn’t know who he was, or why he’d done it. But I knew he was dead.
    I didn’t know why he was dead.
    And I didn’t know what it meant.
    I hadn’t told any of this to Cole or Mum yet, and I didn’t know when—or if—I was going to.
    I didn’t know what that meant, either.
    But the biggest thing I didn’t know was how I felt about Rachel. After that night in the back of the Mercedes, when all I’d felt was blackness and nothing, my head and heart had been invaded with all the feelings in the world, some of which I’d never felt before. I was sick and empty and full of lies. I wanted to hate someone, but I didn’t know who. I was nowhere and everywhere. I was lost.
    When we got home, Cole went straight up to his room without saying a word. I followed Mum into the kitchen and made us some tea, then we sat down together at the table and listened to the muffled sounds coming from Cole’s room. Measured footsteps, drawers opening, drawers closing…
    “He’s going to Dartmoor, isn’t he?” I said to Mum.
    “Probably.”
    “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
    “I don’t know, love. I’m not sure it matters what I think. You know what he’s like when he sets his mind on something.”
    “What do you think he’s planning to do?”
    “Find out who did it, I expect.” She looked at me. “He wants to find out who killed Rachel so we can bring her back home.”
    “Are you sure that’s all he wants?”
    “No.”
    I looked around the kitchen. It’s always been myfavorite room. It’s big and old and warm and there are lots of things to look at. Old photographs and postcards, pictures we’d drawn when we were kids, china ducks, flowery plates, vases and jugs, trailing plants in a large bay window…
    I watched the sunlight streaming in.
    I wished it wasn’t.
    “Do you want me to go with him?” I said to Mum.
    “He won’t want you to.”
    “I know.”
    She smiled at me. “I’d feel better if you did.”
    “What about you?” I asked her. “Will you be all