Page 67 of The Eleventh Hour

“Morning, dearies.”

“Hello.” I pull up a chair and smile at her.

“Aren’t you lovely? Is this your beau?” Her eyes grow sad. “I can’t recall your names, I’m sure you told me, but my memory is like a sieve, and names just drain straight through. Perks of getting old, that and the service, it’s fantastic.”

She winks at a young orderly who wanders past. I chuckle and pat her hand.

“We haven’t met before.”

She blinks. “Oh. Well, who the bloody hell are you?”

Rafael explodes into helpless laughter. I roll my eyes at him and grin at the woman who watches him with a small smile.

“My name is Jax, and this is Rafael. We are just after some information.”

“What kind of information? I have a lot. The food here is shit. They turn everything to mush, supposedly so we can’t choke, but if I wanted to gum my food, I’d take my dentures out.”

“Uh, not that.” I shake my head with a small chuckle.

“Well, if not that, what then?”

“Did you know Cecil-”

“Banewood!” The old woman scrunches down in her chair, folds her arms over her thin chest, and glowers into thin air. “Oh, aye, I remember that troglodyte. You ever met a man who needed a swift kneecapping? It was that man. He hated women, kids, cats, dogs, the mail, Sundays, rain, and sun. Fresh air was offensive to poor auld Mr Banewood. Oh, yes, I remember him well.”

My heart thuds. Excitement makes me lean forward, but I lean back and try to calm myself.

“Did he have a child living with him in the few years before he died?”

“Oh, that poor little kid. He didn’t have a chance. Poor wee little Louis.”

I inhale so hard I choke and start coughing. “You said Louis? Not Lee?”

“No, it was definitely Louis. Though I recall Cecil, that giant turd, calling him Lee a time or two when he was drinking that liquid paint stripper.”

I glance at Rafe. We found him, proof. His eyes shine with excitement.

“Can you tell us anything about Louis?”

“Louis was quiet. He learned how to disappear when he was standing right in front of you. A way of making himself smaller and unnoticeable. Cecil was a beast, a madman to live with. No child should have had to live with that. Especially not in those later years. Cecil got worse with age, you see.” She unfolds her arms and straightens her dress. “I found him one day, late at night, wandering the streets. He was so out of it, I think he may have had a concussion. Blood covered his entire face. Bruises were appearing before my eyes. His wrist was wrong, like it was broken.”

I assume she’s talking about Cecil.

“Poor Louis, it’s not right to see a child so badly beaten.”

My stomach lurches.

I listen and try to keep my face impassive, but it’s hard.

“I tried to get him help. It lasted three weeks before Cecil dragged him home again.”

“Cecil died, but what happened to Louis?” Rafe interrupts.

She shakes her head. “No one knows. I hope that poor child ran far, far away.”

“What happened to Cecil’s wife?” Rafael asks.

She blinks. “We all assumed she ran off and left the wife-beating monster. We cheered her on, anyway.”