by L Neil
Eddie pulls on my hand to get my attention again. Wow, I sure know how to attract unstable men.
But then Sam’s phone dings and he immediately becomes agitated, clearly upset by whatever notification he just got.
He rushes out of the room and before we can guess what’s happening, he returns with a handgun.
Everything that follows happens very quickly and very slowly at the same time.
Eddie moves to stand and shield me, but Sam is ready for it and smacks him hard across the face. The combination of his fist and the gun make for a very hard hit and Eddie falls to the ground, knocked out cold.
Fear flows through me as Sam reaches down to drag me up from the floor. Sliding me across the room, back towards the bed, he says urgently, “I hope I don’t have to hurt you,” and then grunts as I resist him pulling me up.
Suddenly, a loud, deafening bang echoes in the room and Sam releases my arm, eyes wide.
At first, I think that his gun has gone off and he is worried about where the stray bullet has hit. But then he collapses to the floor in front of me.
I watch in both horror and relief as he slumps against the bed. He clutches his stomach and pants, “Fuck.”
I tear my eyes from him to see the figure in the doorway.
Dominic’s gun remains pointed at Sam as he enters the room.
It takes a moment for me to realise that I am being rescued – that I am going to survive this.
Eddie may not have had back-up, but he didn’t think that Frank’s men would have been watching and following him after I ran away.
Holy shit.
Finally, I stand up. I want to run to Dominic, but the chain wouldn’t allow me to reach him. I want to hug him and tell him that he is my bestest fucking friend in the world.
Always the professional, his eyes remain focussed on the threat, who lost his gun halfway across the blood-soaked rug.
The next person to rush through the door doesn’t spare a second to take in the room or the situation. Frank trusts that Dominic has done his job and runs straight to me, practically slamming into me.
Wrapping his arms around me tightly, he groans, “Baby, I am so fucking sorry. Please forgive me. I’m sorry.”
I clutch him in return and inhale his scent to convince myself that he is really here.
Too soon, he pulls back only to seize my face with his hands and cover it with fierce, hurried kisses, scratching my skin with his thick stubble. Between kisses, he pleads, “Forgive me... come back to me... please, baby.”
Just as I am about to tell him that I do forgive him and ask him to get me out of these damned chains already, a choking sound draws our attention.
Sam is doubled over, his wet coughs racking his slumped-over body.
The sound is almost painful to hear. Almost.
When he eventually gets it under control, he sits back up against the bed. A sheen of sweat shines on his face and when he smiles up at us, blood spills out of his mouth, trailing down his chin and across his ruined turtleneck.
His laugh is wheezy, and he coughs again before saying tightly, “I never thought...I would see...the day.”
Frank stares down at his son. “You made the biggest mistake, boy,” he warns. “I knew you were mad, but I didn’t think you could be this stupid.”
“You actually love her.” Sam grimaces as he tries to straighten up. But he gives up and returns to his slouching position. “I didn’t know you were capable... didn’t...” He struggles to finish his sentence.
I’m no doctor but it is obvious that he will die without urgent medical attention.
“Wow...” He breathes out, eyes rolling in the back of his head.
“We need to call an ambulance,” I urge but no one seems to have heard me.
Sam slurs his next words: “She deserves better than you...dad.”
He looks to me now and musters up the strength to say, “You didn’t need to become a doll, Hel. You are already perfect.” Smiling that rare, genuine smile of his, he whispers, “I love you.”
Before I could respond – not that I have a clue what to say to that – Frank draws his gun and fires.
As my ears ring from the loud bang, Sam’s head knocks back against the bed and becomes suspended there for a moment.
A dark hole sits in the middle of his forehead and his face is slack, neutral for the very first time.
When his head lolls to the side, the realisation sinks in that he is dead.
Dead.
He has become this unmoving sack of flesh and bones and... that’s not right... surely Frank didn’t just shoot his own son?
“You killed him,” I breathe. What the fuck?
The air in the room becomes too thick to breathe and I must start hyperventilating because Frank is suddenly before me. With his free hand on my shoulder, he tells me to “Breathe.” The concern in his eyes is puzzling. I should be concerned about him – is he not upset about what he just did?
I gaze back into his calming eyes and begin to centre myself. “You killed him,” I repeat, almost accusingly this time.
“Baby, we will deal with this later,” he replies, being too practical about this. “We need to get out of here.”
I gaze back down at Sam’s lifeless body and want to weep.
Yes, I know he was planning kill me. And I know that he has already killed other people. But...
But?
A tear falls down my cheek, confusing my husband very much. His eyes dart between mine as he worries that I may be mad at him for doing this.
Am I?
I don’t know.
Perhaps Frank doesn’t know how he feels about this yet, either. The thought that this will catch up to him and fill him with so much pain and regret softens my own emotions.
I hug him tightly, catching him off-guard. With my head against his chest, I sob, “I’m so sorry.”
Everything – all of it – is my fault. I should have listened to Frank’s warnings at the beginning and never involved myself with Sam. Now... now he has killed his own son.
I pull away to look into his eyes and apologise again, “I’m so sorry.”
At first, he meets my eyes easily and seems to be focused entirely on me and my wellbeing. But then his eyes become distant and I gather it’s because he is starting to fathom what he has just done.
Slowly, I reach down and remove the gun from his hand. He seems puzzled as to why I’m taking it away from him but allows me to, anyway.
Honestly, I’m not too sure why I do it either. Perhaps I’m worried that if he can do something like this to his own son, then no one is safe from him. Even himself.
As I begin to ask what we should do now, Eddie stirs on the floor. Damn, I had completely forgotten about him.
I peer around Frank to see that Dominic is now helping him up. As Eddie reaches out, it would appear to anyone else that he is only accepting the offer of help, but I know that he is really reaching for the gun in Dominic’s holster.
Knowing that I would never reach him in time, I push Frank aside and scream, “No!”
But it’s too late.
All too quickly, the shot rings out and Eddie brings the pistol up to point it at Frank as Dominic falls in a heap on the floor.
Without hesitation, I aim Frank’s Glock at him in return and grate, “Don’t.”
He is taken by surprise at my defence, brows screwed up in confusion.
My pulse is in my throat and on my tongue as I repeat, “Don’t. Please.”
Dominic hasn’t moved and I desperately want to run over and check that he is okay. But I know not to move because being so close to Frank means that Eddie must be one hundred per cent confident in his ability to shoot and not get me too. From what I understand, he won’t risk hurting me.
I can’t see where Dominic was shot, and my terror is renewed. If it was bad, wouldn’t there be a lot of blood somewhere?
Please be okay. Please be okay.
“Move, Hel,” Eddie demands.
“What’s going on?” Frank’s rough voice cuts in. He has no idea that Eddie is a cop and most likely doesn’t know about the investigation either. What must this look like to him?
I plead, “Please, Eddie, if you leave here now, we won’t follow you.” I slowly sneak closer to Frank, pressing my body against the front of him now. “Please, let this go. Let me help my friend.”
“Who?” He nods his head toward Dominic on the ground. “Him?” he whines in disbelief.
“Yes!” I cry.
“WHY?” He yells, eyes crazed. “Aren’t you tired of these people? These criminals...who follow you around and control you?”
His gun is still pointed at Frank and mine at him. My arm is already getting tired – surely his is too. We need to resolve this asap.
“What will it take for you to walk away?” I ask. “What can I do to make you leave without hurting or arresting these two men?”
“Arresting?” Frank scoffs. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
“That’s right,” Eddie says, smugly. “FBI. And I’m tired of waiting for us to pin something on you legally, to get you locked away. You need to be gone, permanently.”
What?
He continues speaking as if it’s completely acceptable to make the decision to kill my husband. “The world will be better off without someone as evil and dangerous as you. Hel will be better off when you’re dead because then you won’t be able to manipulate or poison her anymore.”
Wow. “You have this all wrong,” I tell him calmly.
How do I let him down gently? He is a madman with a gun, after all.
Exasperated, his gun wavers as he snarls, “If you knew half of the things he has done, you would be standing beside me, pointing that gun at him.”
Frank laughs at that – a sudden burst of laughter that makes me jump. I’m glad that when Jimmy taught me how to use a gun, he told me not to put my finger on the trigger until I am ready to shoot my target. If I hadn’t known this, Eddie wouldn’t be standing anymore.
Frank growls, “Kid, if you knew half of the things I have done, you would be pointing that gun at yourself. Believe me, you do not want to be alive for what is going to happen to you next.”
Eddie’s eyes widen briefly but then “John” reappears and he becomes confident and cocky again. “The Taxidermist is here somewhere.”
Frank stiffens beside me.
“I’m assuming that the wrong guy was framed, and it was your work?” Eddie probes. “We had our suspicions that you were connected to the killer. And why was Henry Smith your scapegoat?”
Squinting, he even seems to be considering lowering his gun. He must really want to know the answer. I guess he is a cop.
But Frank only laughs again and evades the question. “You’ve got quite the imagination there, kid.”
Eddie is certainly not satisfied with that answer and chooses to keep the gun on Frank. “Don’t you see, Hel? Your husband is corrupt and vile. How can you support him? How can you choose to be with someone like him?”
If only he knew that I was corrupt myself, that I’ve killed two people, including a cop. But he doesn’t know any of that, obviously. He has made up some version of me in his mind who is pure and worthy.
He says, “It’s not too late to pack up those passports and leave together. I can be your husband.”
Mr and Mrs Moore.
Frank growls, suddenly becoming aware of the documents sprawled across the floor.
I can feel his face lower so that his cheek is beside mine. I won’t risk taking my eyes away from Eddie, but I don’t need to see Frank to know that he looks positively menacing when he asks, “You want to take her away from me?”
He draws in a deep breath and it makes the hairs on my neck stand to attention. “Hmm,” his voice rumbles, “I told you he desired you.”
His hand softly rests on my lower back as he now whispers for my ears only, “We can’t move. If we were to back away through the door, he might try and shoot at me and I can’t risk him hitting you.”
Not to mention that we can’t leave Dominic!
“What are you whispering about?” Eddie angrily snaps. “No more whispering or I shoot.”
“No!” I yell, “No shooting!”
I can’t believe he wants to kill my husband.
And I can’t believe that Dominic is on the ground, injured – or worse – and there is nothing I can do to help him. He was just trying to help my supposed friend out. I can’t let him die. He’s not just my friend and my protector; he is Silvia’s dad and Isabella's doting grandfather, for Christ’s sake.
I look down at Sam – lifeless, gone. He’s never coming back. I’ll never be able to try to fix him, to make him feel loved just once in his life. Sure, he needed to be punished for his crimes, but... but... his last words were to me: “I love you.”
And the Taxidermist is out there somewhere. Is he nearby? Is he watching on the cameras surrounding us or had he made a run for it?
“This is total madness,” I mutter to myself.
I can feel Frank turning his face into mine, worried yet again about how I’m coping. He really doesn’t care for anyone else but me – not even himself. He’s more worried that Eddie will accidentally shoot me even though he is the target himself.
I love him so much.
So, what do I do?
It seems that I only have one choice.
“I’ll go with you,” I say to Eddie, defeated. I lower my arm which is now sore from holding up and clutching the gun so tightly.
Frank exhales sharply and he grabs at my dress, bunching it up in his fist.
I don’t expect him to agree with my decision, but I can see no other option, no other way to get us all out of here in one piece.
He rests his forehead against the side of my head and pants, “No... I won’t let you. No.”
Eddie’s face softens and his hand relaxes on the grip of the gun. Still, he holds it up.
“Did you hear me?” My voice croaks. “I said I would go with you. You don’t need to shoot anyone.”
I can literally feel Frank’s heart breaking. His anguish is so thick I can almost taste it. Or perhaps that’s my own. God, I don’t know how I will live without him.
All I know is that I can’t let him die or go to jail. And I can’t let Dominic die, either. Fuck.
But then Eddie becomes John again and aims his gun oh-so-steadily at Frank once more. With an unwavering conviction, he advises, “I won’t leave until he is dead.”
Like a switch, my mind and my body suddenly decide they are done being terrified. Instead of panicking, I find myself relaxing as the room and everything besides Eddie fades away.
Gone are the walls, the soft bed, the dollhouse, the passports, Sam, Dominic...even Frank.
All that remains is me, the heavy metal in my hand and the imposter who threatens to take away both my friend and the only man I have ever loved.
I simply can’t let him kill Frank. I would rather die than live without him.
“Eddie,” I beckon softly, and my voice sounds distant. I barely register the clinking of my chain as I take one step forward. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that I am still covering Frank.
Feeling as though I am a passenger in my own body, I beseech Eddie again, “Please, let’s go.”
His body relaxes a little and those obsidian eyes shine as he gazes back at me. He looks like a child who has been told that he is about to his own way, about to get that thing he really wanted.
I take another step and there is only about eight feet between us now.
I stop where I am; the predator in me knows that I cannot take him on physically so there is no need to get any closer now.
Knowing that I must appear vulnerable and feminine in my Victorian gown with expertly applied makeup and pink nails, I whisper, “It’ll just be me and you. What do you say, Mr Moore?”
He lowers the gun but only slightly; he will not give this up.
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It’s the opportunity I need and likely the only one I will ever get.
I swiftly raise and aim the pistol in a way that would make even Jimmy proud, and I pull the trigger.
CHAPTER 23
Lost
✽✽✽
The night air is brisk, and the street is mostly empty. The few stragglers that pass by walk in pairs or small groups. They enter pubs and bistros that are unusually quiet.