Sins of the Father by JG Faherty

Author:JG Faherty
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense, supernatural, thriller, horror; gothic fantasy, dark fantasy, creepy stories
Publisher: Flame Tree Publishing
Published: 2020-07-13T12:51:52+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

The sun was just brightening the horizon when we received the news we’d been waiting for.

One of Flannery’s men, a thin, gray-haired veteran named Hanson, returned to the station reeking of stagnant water and human waste, his clothes soaked and his face coated in filth. He’d spotted a group of men entering a catch basin on Bank Street, right near the hospital.

“Followed ’em down, nice and quiet, just like you ordered, Inspector,” Hanson said. “Goddamn water stinks of shit and dead fish. The tunnel led to a river, just like Mr. Gilman said it would. Wide as the Manuxet, it is. The footprints on the bank went east, toward the harbor.”

“I knew it.” I traced my finger along the map. Bank Street became Pain Street in the center of town, and then State Street in the warehouse district. And it ended right at Water Street and the wharfs.

“I’ll bet other catch basins join with it as well. We’ve got our entry point, Inspector.”

“All right, then.” Flannery’s voice took on the authoritative, rather pompous tone I was more familiar with. “Send the word out to the men to get some rest or food and be back here in three hours.”

“Aye, and a change of clothes.” Hanson exited, leaving Flannery and me alone once more.

“That goes for us too, Gilman,” the inspector said. “A little shut-eye and a meal. Just what the doctor ordered.”

We donned our coats and went outside, where the morning sun had started burning off the fog and people were beginning to fill the sidewalks, heading to work or market. Flannery tipped his hat to me and flagged down a hansom. As the taxi rolled away, it struck me that I had no idea where he lived. Based on his manner of dress and attitude, I envisioned a comfortable brownstone somewhere in the center of the city, not a man of wealth by any means but firmly middle class. Never any worries about paying his bills or putting food on the table.

The way my life had been before my mother’s cancer and my bastard father’s actions stole it all away.

I stood there at the corner for a moment, pinned in place by indecision. I didn’t want to go home – if I went to bed now, I’d most likely sleep the entire day away. Should I ride across town to the hospital and check on Flora? It was still quite early, and she needed her sleep. Besides, that would leave no time to follow the second part of Flannery’s advice. Fill my belly, which had begun a constant grumbling well before sunup.

An army fights better on a full stomach.

I’d heard that somewhere. And no mistake, we were going to war in a few hours. Sleep might be impossible, but food wasn’t.

After checking my billfold, I decided to treat myself to a proper breakfast, something I hadn’t done in…I couldn’t remember how long. Unpredictable work hours and low finances usually had me making coffee and perhaps an egg at home, or picking up a small pastry on the way to work.

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