Jason spent the next several days in a haze.

It felt as if life had completely stopped dead in its tracks. He was still able to recognize that the world hadn’t halted for other people, who continued to go about their regular business as normal. But he found himself increasingly having no idea how to function in their world. The day after his father died, he forgot to eat and drink. He’d never done that before in his life, but there he was, suddenly feeling an extreme pang of hunger at 6pm in the evening and then realizing his throat felt impossibly dry and scratchy. He hadn’t even gotten out of bed on that first day. He just lay there, his mind racing a thousand miles a minute and yet also feeling completely numb and empty at the same time. By the second day he’d remembered he needed to eat, but couldn’t keep anything down. Olivia called his office for him and told them about Winslow dying, so that bought him a few days bereavement leave at least. But what would he do after that? He couldn’t go back to work like this. How would he face all those people telling him how sorry they were for his loss, when he knew what he knew? And then there was the matter of the funeral, regarding which their father had left explicit instructions with Melinda. It was already set for the upcoming Saturday, which was only three days away and Jason just couldn’t even fathom attending.

Jason had never been a particularly big drinker. Like everyone, he enjoyed a few social beers or cocktails from time to time, but he wasn’t someone to drink at home to unwind. And yet, right now all he wanted to do was drown in whiskey. He just needed something to quieten down the barrage of noise in his head, and whiskey would do as good a job as anything.

He slowly got out of bed and put on a pair of checkered lounge pants and yesterday’s dirty t-shirt. He then padded from his room and down the hall toward the kitchen. He passed Staci’s room on the way and felt that familiar pang of guilt and shame that reared its head every time he walked past. He hadn’t seen his daughter for several weeks now, mostly because he just didn’t have the stomach for the inevitable arguments that would ensue between he and Gail, but he knew that was no real excuse for not being there for Staci. So that little extra sense of self-loathing was filling his being when he made it to the kitchen and opened up the liquor cupboard. He always kept it pretty freshly stocked, as even though he didn’t touch the stuff often, most of his work colleagues and dates seemed to enjoy a drink (or four) of an evening.

He took out a bottle of Glenmorangie Milsean Private Edition. It was a Single Malt Scotch that he was assured by the experts was one of the best out there, and one that could be used to impress connoisseurs. Yes, Jason was that guy, concerned with what people thought of him and whether he knew shit about whiskey. He managed a wry smile as he took his first sip of a pretty deep glass and knew that he didn’t have a palate refined enough to recognize the differences between this expensive Scotch and the blended swill you could buy for $20 at the convenience store round the corner. It all tasted the same to him, but hey, he didn’t need it to taste good. He just needed it to get him blind drunk.

He carried the bottle and his glass over to the living room and lowered himself gingerly onto the sofa. A set of expansive windows were to his left, along with French doors that led out into the garden, but he had the curtains drawn and didn’t make a move to open them. He needed the darkness and solitude right now.

He poured himself another glass of Glenmorangie and was about to drink when his cell phone rang. He took it out of the pocket of his pant leg and looked at the caller ID. It was Melinda. He winced slightly at the thought of having to talk to her right now and ignored the call. He set the phone on the coffee table in front of him and switched the TV on. SportsCentre droned away in the background while he got lost in his thoughts again, and then the phone rang once more. He picked it up and saw that it was Melinda again. He exhaled deeply and accepted that he was going to have to answer her. She’d just keep calling until he gave in.

He answered the phone on the eighth ring.

"Hey Melinda. What’s up?"

"Hello Jason. You must have missed my first call."

"Uh, yeah. I was in the shower. Sorry."

"Are you doing okay, son? How are you holding up? If you need me to bring anything over, any food or supplies, you’ll let me know? I’m worried about you."

"I’m okay, Melinda. I just needed to go to ground for a few days to clear my head, you know?"

"Of course, I understand. I can’t even begin to imagine how you’re feeling. You and your father have always been so close."

Jason grimaced at that one.

Melinda continued. "In terms of the funeral on Saturday, are you prepared to say a few words about your father? I’m liaising with the funeral director’s today and told them you’d be saying something at the service."

Jason was taken aback and left a few moments of silence while he pondered what to say. Did he have any words to say about his father? Anything that was suitable to be heard at a public funeral for a beloved local businessman?

"Oh dear, have I put my foot in it? Had you not thought about speaking? I always do this, just shoot my mouth off before I think..."

"No, um, it’s okay Melinda. I’ll...I’ll speak at the funeral. I’d, uh, I’d actually been thinking of what I wanted to say today. I’ll start writing it later tonight."

Melinda sounded demonstrably relieved. "Oh! Oh thank God, I thought I’d really messed up there. You’re not angry, are you?"

"No, I’m not angry." said Jason, a little angry. Melinda tended to do this when she was nervous or stressed; she’d spin out and talk a lot and become super paranoid that she was making everyone upset. "It’s fine, really. I want to speak at the funeral."

"Oh, that’s such a relief. You just leave everything else to me, Jason. Your father left detailed instructions for the service and venue, so you don’t need to worry about any of that."

"Great." said Jason, the flatness in his voice becoming increasingly hard to hide.

"Have you spoken to your sister today...?" asked Melinda, leaving a pregnant pause at the end of the sentence. Jason judged that this meant she hadn’t spoken to Olivia today and wanted to know if she was ignoring her. Olivia and Melinda always had a strange relationship. Jason knew that, in some ways, he looked at Melinda like a surrogate mother figure (when it suited him). But Olivia had never followed suit, and pretty much always left Melinda in no uncertain terms that she saw her as an employee of the family. Melinda responded with a barely veiled dislike for Olivia at all times and, to be honest, Jason couldn’t blame her. He didn’t necessarily agree with how Olivia treated Melinda in this case, but she was her own person and could make her own decisions. Plus he just didn’t want to get in the middle of the two of them.

"No, not yet. I think she’s coming over to the house for breakfast tomorrow, so I’ll let her know you were asking. There’s still a lot we need to talk about, actually. We didn’t say a whole lot to each other after seeing him the other night. Once the doctor arrived and pronounced him dead, we just...went home."

"You were both in shock, I’m sure."

"Yeah. Probably."

There was then another pause on the other end of the line. Melinda cleared her throat, and then paused again. Jason knew she was getting ready to ask him something and he was already calculating his response options.

"If you don’t mind me asking, son, what did your father tell you? He specifically asked for an audience with you both, but wouldn’t say why. You can tell me it’s none of my business, of course, I’d understand that. But I’ve just been curious and felt I had to ask."

For a split second, the idea of telling Melinda the truth flashed into Jason’s head.

Then it quickly went away.

"He said he just wanted to have one last night with his kids, Melinda. The three of us hadn’t spent an evening together in a very long time, and I think in his last days that had started to weigh on him. We just talked about growing up, about mom, about his business, about what we’re doing."

Jason swallowed hard and tried to force the words to come out of his mouth. It was as if they wanted to stay lodged in his throat and he had to fight to free them. "He wanted to tell us that he loved us, one last time."

There was another silence on the other end of the line. Jason’s heart was in his mouth as he prayed that Melinda bought the horseshit he had just spouted. He hoped against hope that she wouldn’t press any further, because he honestly didn’t think he could hold it together for another lie right now.

When he heard her lightly sobbing, he closed his eyes and willed his heartbeat to return to normal.

"That’s...that’s wonderful, Jason. I’m so happy the three of you got to have that time together before the end."

"Me too, Melinda." he lied. "Me too."

"I’ll see you on Saturday, Jason. Try to get some rest and know that I’m here for you if you need me."

"Thanks so much, Melinda. Goodbye."

Jason hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch beside him. He leaned back in the chair and exhaled. He then rubbed his face with his hands, pulled himself together, and poured another glass of Scotch. That phone call had made him thirsty.

He took a long gulp of the liquid, letting it flow down his throat and wincing slightly at the burning sensation left after he swallowed. Whiskey was a weird fucking drink, but it seemed to be doing its job. He could feel himself loosening up ever so slightly. He reached over to the coffee table to pick up the remote control and then saw it sitting there, abandoned on top of a pile of magazines and mail that he’d dumped there.

The white envelope with the key to his father’s storage unit lay there, taunting him. He stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. Two days feeling sorry for himself had meant it had slipped his mind that he had it. On that awful night he must’ve just come home, thrown it on the coffee table and crawled under the covers while he tried his very best to retreat from the world.

He slowly reached out his hand and picked up the envelope, feeling its weight. He opened the seal and dropped the key out into the palm of his left hand. It was a perfectly normal key. Nothing distinguishing or strange about it. Despite it being the key to what Jason could only assume was a vault of unspeakable evil, it wasn’t made in the shape of a skull or crafted from human bone or anything silly like you see in the movies. It was just a key. Simple. Boring.

He turned it over between his fingers and then the thought finally occurred to him: should he go to the police? This storage unit was obviously filled with all kinds of damning evidence about their father’s activities. He should turn it over to the authorities, right? That was the right thing to do.

Jason then felt a wave of shame as he recognized that, due to it taking him two days before he even entertained the thought of going to the police, he was clearly not truly thinking along those lines. He couldn’t imagine what the revelation of Winslow Gaines’ horrific double life would mean for his family, and for the legacy of Gaines Construction. It would all be taken away, surely? What would become of Melinda? And all his father’s other employees? This wasn’t their fault.

Also, what would it mean for him at the firm? They weren’t going to want to employ a lawyer whose father was a notorious serial killer; he’d be out on his ass so fast it would make his head spin.

He then wondered if Olivia wanted to go to the cops. She hadn’t said anything the other night, but then they didn’t really talk, like he said to Melinda. But she also hadn’t contacted him since then to say she wanted to turn the key in and tell the police everything.

So, if they weren’t going to the cops...

What were they going to do with the key?

Next Chapter: Chapter Four - Olivia