When Smiles Fade

by Paige Dearth

  Emma shook with the rage that flooded her body. To think that she had defended Pete when Salvatore was threatening to kill him for raping her! She had, in fact, talked Salvatore out of the idea, claiming it was Ethan who had egged his friend on, and had even suggested that Pete was, at heart, a decent guy who just had too much to drink.

  But now she saw him for the person he was—a scum-sucking maggot with a twisted sexual appetite. The journal entry made it all too clear to Emma. She now realized with a shock that Pete was Isabella’s father. She now understood why Gracie had lied to her all along about one of the boys from school being Isabella’s father. Since the paternity test results showed that Ethan wasn’t Izzy’s father the only other logical answer was that Pete was the father of her niece. Emma’s resolve hardened: she was going to make Pete pay for what he had done to Gracie.

  By now she was pacing the bedroom, wracked by a thirst for blood that was no less intense than that of a vampire you read about in young adult fiction. She pulled the duffel bag out of the closet and reached for the cloth that concealed Ethan’s gun. She removed it from its covering and clicked open the chamber. It was loaded. Emma was no longer in control of her thoughts or actions as she put the gun into her purse and walked towards the front door without a single thought about Izzy.

  “Are you leaving already?” Sydney asked, looking up from the book Izzy was reading to her.

  “Yeah, I gotta go. I got called in to work early,” she lied.

  Izzy ran over and gave her aunt a kiss. “Be careful,” the child advised her wisely.

  Emma didn’t respond. She was too consumed by her thoughts of getting even with Pete to consider the child whose future she might be jeopardizing by embarking on a mission of this kind and endangering her own life. She walked briskly to her car and spun off toward Ambler. Half an hour later, she was parked down the street from Pete’s house. She shut off the engine and waited. At ten o’clock, she watched the pig strut from his house, get into his car, and drive off. She followed him in her own car to a small bar twenty minutes away. She parked in the rear of the lot so he wouldn’t see her, then watched him get out of his car and enter the bar.

  As Emma walked through the entrance of the bar soon after, she didn’t notice any of the customers who crowded the place, although they were drinking heavily and shouting to be heard above the music playing through the old, fuzzy-sounding speakers. She spotted Pete standing among a group of men and watched one of them hand him a beer. As he lifted the beer to his lips, Pete froze; he had noticed Emma approaching. He hadn’t seen her since the night of the rape well over a year ago, and the sight of her made him nervous.

  She eased up beside him with fluid grace. “Well, look who it is!” she said, leaning in close to Pete.

  “Listen, Emma,” he babbled, “all that shit that happened the last time I saw you, that was all Ethan. I never wanted to do that to you.”

  Emma cut him off before he could utter another word, knowing that if she allowed him to continue telling his lies, she just might kill him before she had a chance to say everything she wanted him to hear.

  “Pete, say no more,” she said reassuringly. “I know you’re a decent guy and that Ethan was a bad influence on you. See, part of the issue that Ethan and I had was my attraction to you. He sensed it, and it made him jealous. I knew it would only be a matter of time before you and I hooked up.” Then she slid her hand over his bicep.

  “Wow, for real?” Pete asked in disbelief. “I mean, I’ve always had a crush on you. Look at you!” he exclaimed, gesturing with his hand down her body. “You’re gorgeous! Who wouldn’t want you?”

  “Good, now that we have that settled, how about buying me a drink?” Emma suggested seductively.

  They settled themselves on two seats at the bar. Emma was going through the motions possessed with revenge for Gracie and no longer in control of her emotions. Meanwhile Pete’s friends couldn’t help gawking at the incredible creature talking to him. With her sexy blond hair hanging loose down her back, her skin-tight jeans outlining her perfect curves, and her firm breasts peeking over the top of her blouse with its low “V” neckline, they thought she was exquisite and all of them envied Pete.

  After they had finished their second drink, Emma slid off the bar stool and moved close to Pete so that she was standing between his legs. She put her hand on the back of his neck and moved in to kiss him.

  “God, Em!” he muttered. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you to be mine? I never thought Ethan was good enough for you.”

  “I know, Pete,” Emma replied calmly. “I’ve felt the same way about you. It was always you I wanted. I think Ethan sensed how attracted we were to each other. Now there is nothing to stop us from being together, is there? What do you say we get out of here?”

  Pete pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket and slapped it down on the bar. Turning to her, he said, “Let’s go,” before getting to his feet and leading her out of the bar.

  Emma took his hand. “Where’s your car?” she asked.

  “Over there,” Pete replied, gesturing in its direction.

  Once he had unlocked the car doors, they slipped into the backseat. Emma lay on top of him as they kissed passionately. As he began roughly unbuttoning her shirt, she reached sneakily into her back pocket, diverting his attention from what she was about to do by using her other hand to rub the crotch of his pants. Distracted by his lust for her, he couldn’t think clearly.

  “How’s that feel, Pete?” she murmured.

  “Great, Emma…” he managed in a voice hoarse with desire. “It feels…just…great. Don’t stop!” he implored in a demanding voice and pulling hard at her breasts, his sexual appetite for her rising as he began to get more forceful with her.

  When the blade of her knife had sliced through his jeans and was embedded in his erection, the pain finally wiped out the sensation of his arousal. Pete snapped back into awareness and his eyes focused on the knife sticking out of him. It was then that he realized what she had done to him. He screamed, going into panic mode, as the pain signals reached his brain and the horror of what Emma had done sank in.

  “You fucking cunt!” he screamed, trying to reach up and grab her neck.

  It was at this precise point that she reached into her purse, pulled out Ethan’s gun, and placed it against Pete’s head. He lay on the backseat of the car, perfectly still, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

  “You know,” she began softly, “it was just a couple of hours ago that I read an entry in Gracie’s journal. She wrote it the night you raped her.”

  Then she sat in silence, watching him.

  “Please, I’m sorry. I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing,” he said, hoping for mercy, but she cut him short.

  “Oh, there’s no point begging, Pete,” she said evenly, as though they were engaged in a polite conversation. “There’s nothing you can say that will help you now. You raped my little sister and you are Isabella’s father.”

  He saw the madness in her eyes. She was like a beast that had stalked and cornered its prey and he knew there were more horrors in store for him. He tried to reason with her again. Emma’s persona had changed. This time her contempt overpowered her ability to be calculated in her actions.

  “Emma, please,” he whined, “I was drunk.”

  “Emma, please,” she mimicked, her manner and voice unnaturally composed. Then her expression changed and she twisted the knife in him viciously, watching him scream from the unbearable agony she was putting him through. “You thought you’d got away with it, didn’t you?” she murmured. “You assumed your horrible little secret had been buried with Gracie. By the way, she also wrote in her journal that you had told her she was ugly. You hurt her. Do you hear me, you fucking loser?!” she yelled.

  Pete’s survival instincts kicked in. He knew now that it was a matter of life or death—his own. He began struggling to push her off him. If he could manage that, he thought, he would be able to
pull out the knife she had stuck in him and use it on her.

  It seemed as if she had read his mind. “No, Pete, I don’t think so,” she said, her tone malicious.

  Before he could react, Emma yanked back her index finger and coolly shot him in the face. Fragments of his skull and bits of brain matter flew out and clung to the car’s windows and backseat. At the sound of the gunshot Emma was jolted back into reality. For the first time in hours her thoughts went to Izzy. Her heart raced as panic rose and a lump formed in her throat. Oh fuck! What have I done? Why wasn’t I more careful? Then as if she were outside of her body looking down on herself, all of the destruction that surrounded her came into clear view and she grimaced at all the blood in the car. Her mind shifted into overdrive as she searched for something to wrap around her hand so she didn’t leave finger prints in the blood. On the floor she spotted a pair of Pete’s work gloves. She picked them up and shoved her hands into them and proceeded to exit the car. Just before she got out, she pulled the knife out of Pete’s body and looked down at what was left of his mangled face.

  “Now who’s ugly, motherfucker?” Emma asked feeling conflicted by the fear of getting caught and the satisfaction of avenging Gracie’s honor.

  Then she quickly stepped out of the car, strode briskly to her own, and sped away. Inside the bar, Kid Rock’s song American Bad Ass blared so loudly that it drowned out the noise of the gunfire and none of the drunken patrons heard a thing.

  Chapter Ninety-Nine

  As she drove fast through Ambler heading toward Double Visions, Emma pulled her cell phone from her purse, found the phone number she needed, and pressed “send.”

  A moment later, Salvatore answered. “Emma?” he asked with anticipation.

  “Salvatore, I need your help,” she stated, the sound of her own heart drumming in her ears. “Can you meet me at Doubles?”

  “Of course, Bella. Are you okay?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

  “I’m fine. Just get there as soon as you can,” she told him, a note of urgency creeping into her voice as she dwelled on Isabella and her lack of consideration.

  For the remainder of the drive Emma was traumatized by her own behavior. She was irritated with herself for acting with reckless abandon. She had always been so careful and patient, but this time her self-control had betrayed her and now she was worried. Ten minutes after Emma parked her car at Doubles, Salvatore pulled into the parking lot with Tony and Vincent. She stayed in her car and watched them approach.

  Salvatore leaned down to look at her through the open car window. “What the fuck?” he blurted out, seeing that she was covered in blood. “Have you been hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine. But do you remember Pete? Ethan’s friend,” she reminded him.

  Salvatore nodded.

  “Well, he’s not doing too good anymore. I need to clean up and get rid of a gun and a knife. Can you help?” She already knew what his answer would be.

  “Of course,” he said in a businesslike manner.

  Emma followed the three men back to Salvatore’s apartment in her own car. Having showered and dressed in a jogging suit she had left behind when she moved out, she walked into the living room and handed Tony the plastic bag they had given her earlier. Inside the bag were both weapons, her clothes, shoes, and purse.

  “You’ll take care of this, right?” she inquired.

  Tony nodded, took the bag, and left the apartment. Emma turned her attention to Salvatore, who offered her a gin and tonic.

  “No, thanks,” she told him, declining the drink. “I have to get back to Doubles. My shift starts in two hours.”

  “What happened, Em?” Salvatore inquired. “Why didn’t you call me to take care of this for you?”

  “I found out that Pete raped Gracie. Isabella is his daughter,” she said expressionlessly. “I really lost it this time. After I read her journal, all I could think about was how I was going to kill him. I just flew on impulse and that just isn’t like me. I should have planned things so it wasn’t so blatant. Salvatore, it was like I was possessed. After all that time I protected Izzy from Ethan and now I go and lose all control of myself. I let my rage get the better of me. I never even stopped to think about Izzy, not once until after it was over. This has never happened to me before.”

  “I see,” was all he said, but he regretted that Emma hadn’t called him to handle this for her. She had made an epic mistake. She pulled off a sloppy kill and he suspected there would be a price to pay for her lack of self control. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I have a friend who can get you another car in less than an hour. We’ll take care of your car. With all that blood you were covered in, we can’t take any chances of the cops finding the car. Do you get my point?” Salvatore asked her.

  “Yes,” she said, a bit surprised that she hadn’t thought about it herself.

  “How is Izzy?” he asked fondly.

  “She’s fine, Salvatore. Can you call that guy about the car now?” she persisted, unwilling to be diverted from the matter at hand.

  An hour later, she was standing at the door of Salvatore’s apartment, ready to leave. She turned to face him, stepped into him, and put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Thanks for your help tonight,” she murmured.

  He responded firmly, “You are never to act impulsively again. You call me before you do anything radical. Anytime you need me, just call. Understand?” he said.

  It was more a statement than a question, she reflected. For the first time since she’d known him, he sounded like a real mobster.

  “I promise, I will.” She kissed him on the cheek and headed out.

  She arrived for her shift at Doubles twenty minutes early. She was in the dressing room talking to one of the other dancers when Jay came in with two police officers.

  “Emma Murphy?” one of the officers inquired.

  “Yes,” she said without any change in her demeanor.

  “We need to take you in for questioning, Ms. Murphy,” the officer stated.

  “Questioning for what?” Emma asked innocently.

  “The murder of Peter Somers,” he replied coolly.

  “Who?” she asked, feigning incomprehension.

  “Peter Somers,” the officer repeated before directing her to put her hands behind her back. Then he began to read her the Miranda rights.

  As the cold metal of the handcuffs tightening around her small wrists, Emma took a moment to rejoice secretly. The police officer had confirmed that Pete was dead. On hearing it for the first time, she felt victorious. Sure, she was disappointed with herself for not planning his murder, but she couldn’t deny the wonderful feeling of getting revenge.

  As they led her out of the bar and to the police car, Emma noticed some of the girls standing with Jay and watching the scene in fear and confusion. Of all the dancers, it was only Maggie who wanted her friend to be okay again. However, she sensed that things were about to get much worse, and she wondered what would happen to Emma.

  Even knowing that Izzy’s future was in question, Emma was completely at peace on the drive to the police station. Like a drug addict injected with their heavenly nectar, she felt whole. She had taken care of all the people who had hurt Gracie.

  Chapter One Hundred

  The next few hours seemed to go by in a blur. The moment she entered the station, Emma was taken into a room behind the front desk. A female officer turned her to face the wall and asked if she had any sharp objects, needles, or knives on her body or in her clothing. After Emma confirmed that she didn’t, the officer frisked her and led her over to a counter. Emma was fingerprinted, and photographs of her were taken from various angles. Finally she was led into a small holding cell, where she sat alone. Later, she was taken to another room where she was interrogated. When the officer questioning her asked for the names of her parents, Emma realized that resorting to a lie in this situation wouldn’t help her case. She gave them her parents’ names and her mother’s address. Then she was led to a
nother small cell, where she was locked in, alone.

  Hours later, after she’d relived the moments following the pulling of the trigger and watching, as if on a movie screen of her imagination, the bullet shattering Pete’s face and reducing it to pulp, Emma allowed herself to think about Izzy again. She had not mentioned her to the police. She saw no reason to volunteer information they didn’t ask for. She planned to keep the existence of her niece a secret for as long as possible; forever, if she could. She had seen enough on television to know that if the police found out about Izzy, they would immediately hand her over to Valerie, the child’s grandmother and her only living relative. Emma knew her mother would ruin Isabella’s future. She might even try luring more abusive men into her life by using Izzy’s beauty and charm as bait. No, she thought, she wouldn’t speak of Izzy to the police. Nor would she tell them where she was, even if they did find out about her.

  When Emma was finally allowed to make a phone call, she dialed Sydney.

  “Syd, it’s Emma. I don’t have a lot of time to talk. I’m in jail and I’ll be here for a while. I need you to take care of Izzy for me, all right?”

  “What do you mean, Em?” Sydney shrieked into the phone.

  The girl was rattled not only because she was afraid of what lay in store for her friend, but also because Izzy would be her responsibility for an indefinite period of time. The seriousness in Emma’s voice told Syd that something really terrible had happened.