Nightsiders by Gary McMahon Read Free Book Online Page B

pushing Molly away. “Always tell me where you’re going.” He winced at the edge of irritation in his voice, but could do nothing to modify it. He was angry; they had lied, and were still lying. About what, he did not know, but he aimed to find out.
    Sarah was waiting for him in the bar when they got back to the hotel. She had been drinking; quickly, and probably quite heavily. Her movements were already slow and uncoordinated and her eyelids were droopy. Robert sent the children up to the room and took a seat at the bar beside his wife. He ordered a double whisky, and when it came, he drank down half of it in one go.
    “Burt Morrow telephoned,” said Sarah, wobbling on her stool. “He tried your mobile first, then the room phone, and finally got me on my mobile.”
    “I didn’t get any missed calls. What did he say?” Robert motioned toward the barman and raised his glass. The barman nodded, picked up another glass, and moved toward the optics on the wall.
    “He wouldn’t speak to me at first, but I badgered him until he gave in. I told him I knew everything you did—whatever that’s worth—and he relented and told me what he’d found out.”
    “What has he found out?” The barman put down another double in front of Robert. He finished his current drink and picked up the second glass.
    “Fuck all. According to his sources, the paperwork Corbeau has is legal, and he can’t seem to find any record of the deeds we have. Or, should I say, the deeds we used to have but are now locked up in a drawer in Corbeau’s house.”
    “ Our house,” said Robert, his fist tightening around the glass.
    “Whatever. Another large white wine, please.” She smiled at the barman.
    Robert felt like he was reaching deep inside himself and hauling on a rope, like a deep-sea fisherman bringing in a net. He had no idea what he might find attached to the end of that rope, but there was no doubt he would reach it eventually. Then he would be forced to confront his catch.
    “What the fuck are we going to do, Robert? What can we do? Morrow said to leave everything to him, but I don’t think he can help us. Whatever’s happening here, it’s stranger than we think; it’s as if the whole world is conspiring against us. Nothing seems right—even this little town, and the people in it. It’s like a fucking film set. That copper, McMahon…even he doesn’t seem right.”
    Ignoring her panicked words, Robert finished his drink and stood from the stool. “Calm down. I’ll speak to Morrow. He might have something more by now. You never know.”
    The barman brought Sarah’s wine. She grabbed the glass and took a large mouthful. Then, slowly, she reached into her handbag and drew out her mobile phone. She did not look into Robert’s eyes, but she turned toward him all the same. “There’s also this.”
    Robert sat back down and waited. “What is it?”
    Still Sarah could not meet his gaze. She flipped open the front face of her mobile phone and pressed a few buttons. Then, pausing for a moment, she swallowed. “It isn’t nice.” She turned the phone in her hand, so Robert could see the screen. On it was a photograph, and for several seconds he failed to see what it was meant to be. Then, like a fist to his gut, the meaning registered in his vision. The photograph was a close-up of a man’s erect penis, with white semen dribbling from its tip. There was no doubt in his mind whose penis it was.
    “How is he getting hold of our numbers?” His voice was poised on the verge of hysteria, but he managed to keep it down, keep it inside. “This is…impossible. It can’t be happening.”
    Slowly, carefully, and with decreasing subtlety, Nathan Corbeau was invading their lives. It had started with him taking possession of their house, and then advanced to rushed legal paperwork and strange phone calls, and now there was this…sexual harassment. No: sexual terrorism.
    “Why is he sending you pictures of his cock?” He regretted