“Yes.”
“It’s difficult to have a conversation with you if you’re only going to give one syllable answers.”
Her eyes drew his attention from the moment she entered the room. They held his interest—damn, they were mesmerizing. How she wound up here baffled him.
“I’m sorry. This is a first for me.” She shrugged.
He pressed a button on his desk. Moments later a maid walked in. “Yes, sir?”
“Bring a pot of coffee with some Danish.”
“Right away, sir.”
They sat in silence until the maid came back with the coffee. Phil moved around the room, trying to decide if he’d use her. Normally, he couldn’t care less about a tool. Make no mistake, she was a tool, but there was something about this one he wanted to get to know. Ah, but business was business. He cleared his mind, studied her some more. No matter how hard she tried to hide her nerves, they showed, along with her unhappiness. Her movements jerky while her gaze scanned the room like a cornered animal. He poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her.
“Thank you.”
“Kyra, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”
*
Where to begin, she thought, sipping the coffee, ignoring the burn in her gut. Her head spinning with a dozen answers. “Joe Dillon’s my host at the casino—I’m in debt way over my head—he made me an offer to pay off my debt so I could start over again.”
She took a deep breath when she finished, looking into his eyes. Scared, not able to read him.
“Is this something you would normally do?”
What, is this man crazy? “No. He gave me two options. Neither appealed to me, both were absolutely out of the question, but I don’t have a choice.” She dropped her head in defeat.
*
He liked she didn’t cry, didn’t apologize, or blame anyone else for her troubles. She took the responsibility for her actions. “Then why are you here?”
Her head jerked up. “Excuse me?”
“I asked…why are you here? It’s a simple question.” His voice hardened.
“I told you I have no choice.”
“Who said?”
“I understood I had no choice when Joe presented it to me.”
“We all have choices, Kyra. You can choose one of the options Joe presented to you or walk away and never look back.”
If he hadn’t been studying her face he would have missed the shock and then the surprise that overrode it. She’s a bevy of emotions. He enjoyed watching her reactions. It would be easy to control her.
“Without any trouble?”
“What trouble could I cause you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know you.”
“That’s right, you don’t.” He paused. “I understand you have a son. It must be hard to work full-time and be a parent.” He smiled benevolently.
“I don’t want to speak about my son.”
He’d frightened her. Phil liked fear, another element he used often in controlling people. “Normally, I can’t shut a mother up about her children.”
“Trevor doesn’t come into this, understand?”
Ballsy too. “Are you threatening me, Kyra?” He smiled without humor.
“No,” she whispered.
“Good. If I decide to use you, you’ll have no say in anything. Anything, you got that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I don’t hurt children. I’m insulted that after spending less than half an hour with me you’d think I would.” Anger peppered his words.
“Trevor’s everything to me. I needed…I had to make sure.” Her voice quavered.
“I understand. But you understand, if we move forward, I own you. Own you, Kyra.” He stared her down.
She lowered her head, sat in silence. He noticed her hands shake, watched her gather her strength before she replied.
“I’d like to know what you mean by ‘own me.’”
“Exactly that. Do you need a dictionary?” Sarcasm dripping off every word. “No. I’m under the impression I’m here for a certain function. What other things do you have in mind?” She raised her head, making eye contact again.
He laughed, appreciating her directness. Most people were afraid of him, didn’t dare ask a direct question. He understood the courage it took for her to ask, even though she was afraid. He had to respect her and made a decision on the spot.
“You’re here for a certain thing which might have to occur on more than one occasion, do you understand what I’m saying?” He put emphasis on the ‘more than one occasion.’
“Yes.”
“What are your reasons for accepting Joe’s deal?”
She contemplated before answering. “I want my son back, Phil. I’ll do anything to get him back.”
“How did you lose him?”
“Gambling.” She flushed.
“I’m sure it was a tough lesson. How did it get out of control?”
“I…” She stopped, knowing ‘I don’t know’ wouldn’t be acceptable here.
“Well, Kyra?”
“I let it take control of me. At the time I cared about nothing else.” She’d never said it aloud. Realizing the truth in the simple statement for the first time, her heart was awash in shame, knowing she hadn’t put Trevor first.
“You didn’t care about your son?” A cruel man. Pushing her buttons on purpose.
“From the moment I became pregnant, I loved and cared for my son. I can’t explain it to myself, so I don’t know how I can explain to you how I got here today.”
“I’d think it would be simple. Only you control your actions.”
Cruel, yes. “I’m aware I made the wrong decisions, harmful decisions, decisions I have to live with, Phil, not you.”
“You’re annoyed. Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes, good. Your answers are honest, Kyra. Your anger is pointed at you, not at anyone else. I like that, because that’s where it belongs.”
Kyra waited. Watching as Phil got up and walked to his desk. He pulled out his chair then sat. Next, he opened a drawer, never taking his eyes off her. She tried to figure out what he was up to.
“Join me over here, Kyra.”
The man’s devious. He must be through testing me. She pushed off her chair, walked over to his desk. For some reason it hit her—this was the longest yard of her life.
“What’s so funny?”
Startled. “Nothing.”
“Why are you smiling?” he persisted.
Kyra let out her breath. “I didn’t realize I was smiling, because I certainly don’t feel like smiling.” Studying him, she continued. “I have a habit of playing jokes in my head when I’m under stress. It relaxes me. The walk from the chair to the desk hit me as the longest yard.” She shrugged.
“Do you understand why you’re here tonight?”
“Yes. You’re assessing me, trying to figure out two things. One.” She held up her right hand, extended her index finger, tapping it on her left hand. “If I’m up for the task. And two, if I’m intelligent enough to understand what I’m committing to.”
“Correct.” He continued to stare.
“What’s your decision?”
He laughed, taking her off-guard.
“What’s so funny?” Hating herself for asking.
“You.”
Pain shot up her arm as she dug her nails into her palm, fighting for control to hold back the sarcastic reply on the tip of her tongue. Kyra lifted her head and stared at him. Enough of playing the frail and helpless female—I hate being played. She needed his answer now.
“Your decision?”
“Kyra, let’s make it clear up front. I’m in charge. I’m always in charge. I don’t put up with insolence. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“I give people my answer, when I’m ready to give my answer. Understood?”
“Yes.”
He tapped his pen on the desk. Kyra waited, watching it bounce up and down. T
he man’s a control freak. It’s obvious from the way he’s conducted this interview. She wondered if he realized how much of himself he gave away with his motions. He reminded her of her trustees at the cemetery, only dangerous.
*
I’ve come to a decision. I can’t use you.” Amused watching her process his answer, he smiled inwardly. Ya gotta give the woman credit for control.
“May I ask why?”
Time to play. “No.”
He watched her study her hands, square her shoulders and then look up at him.
She stood, held out her hand. He took it. Held it.
“Thank you for your time, Phil.”
“Aren’t you the polite one? I like polite employees.” He smiled at her baffled expression.
“Excuse me?” He still held her hand.
“I’m going to use you, Kyra, because it gives us both what we need. I needed to see how you’d react when things didn’t go your way.”
“I’m not sure they just did.”
He laughed. “Yep, honest.”
Getting down to business he outlined how it would work. Kyra listened. She wasn’t allowed to take notes, so she filed everything mentally. Figured she’d record everything when she got home. It took Phil an hour to detail everything. She’d be paid in cash. The hundred thousand would be in large bills. The burn would have to happen immediately. Oh my God, I just agreed to dispose of a body for the damn mob.
He seemed surprised that she didn’t blink when he mentioned the fee would be the same for each body.
“Kyra, you understand this isn’t a one-time deal?”
“I figured it out over dinner with Joe. Once in, there’s no getting out,” she stated coolly.
“This concludes our business for tonight.” He stood.
“Thanks, Phil.” She extended her hand again.
He shook it and made another decision, a personal one. “Kyra, are you free for dinner tomorrow night? I’d like to take you to dinner. It has nothing to do with the deal.” He watched the conflict play out on her face.
“I have a dinner date tomorrow night, but I can cancel it. It’s a first date.”
“No, don’t cancel. We’ll make it some other time.” Disappointed, he didn’t push.
“I don’t have plans for Saturday night if you want to go then instead of Friday?”
She continued to surprise him. There’s more to this woman than most he met. She seemed more relaxed now, with business settled. Would she really follow through with the disposal? He hoped so for her sake—it would be a shame to have to terminate her.
“Yes, Saturday’s fine. I’ll let you know the time. I prefer eating around nine.
It’s not too late for you, is it?”
“No.”
“I’ll send a car.”
“Where are we going?”
The corner of his lip twitched at her question. “There are some great restaurants around here.”
“I live in Wilkesbury. Why don’t I drive up here? That way you don’t have to worry about getting me home.”
His eyes twinkled. “Don’t plan on staying the night?”
“No.”
Laughing, trying to control himself, he said, “Fair enough. I’ll let you know the place tomorrow.”
Chapter Seven
Christ, now why did I go and make a date with him? Kyra replayed the entire interview in her head. She hated to admit she found Phil attractive, in a dangerous kind of way. What was wrong with her? Never before had she pursued the bad-boy type. And in two days, she’d accepted dates with two. Oh yes. Make no mistake. Jake was definitely a bad boy, even if he was on the side of good. Versus Phil, who was on the side of evil. The picture in her mind had Jake on her right shoulder, angelic. Phil on her left shoulder in a devil suit. Kyra started laughing. Tears rolled down her checks at her absurd thoughts. She quickly pulled off onto the shoulder of the highway to get back in control. Wrestling with right and wrong even at this age—boy, Sister Mary Catherine would be proud of her.
Friday flew by. With only one burial and one cremation, it gave her time to catch up on her paperwork. Phil called, setting the time for dinner on Saturday. He also let her know the body would be there at the end of the day.
The body would arrive, accompanied by a funeral director from Phil’s area, as a legitimate cremation—papers and all. One of Phil’s henchmen, who would view the entire cremation, never left the body until the process was complete. Phil wanted to make sure she didn’t call the police. She wasn’t insulted, understanding his motives. Their expected arrival time was three, three-thirty. At about two-thirty she walked out of her office and perched herself on Dina’s desk.
“Do you have big plans for the weekend?”
“Oh yes. You remember the guy with the blond hair from the party?” Dina smiled.
“There were a lot of guys with blond hair at the party, Dina. Which one?”
“The tall one.”
“They’re all tall to me.” Kyra laughed.
“Oh, right, Shorty.” Dina laughed. “Well, never mind. Ray’s six feet and built. I’m hoping to see how built tonight.” She wiggled her brow.
“You’re a pisser.”
“Tonight’s your date with Jake, right?”
“Yep.”
“We’ll have to compare notes on Monday.”
“Sounds good. Why don’t you take off for the weekend? Everything’s pretty much all set here today.”
Not out of the ordinary for Kyra to let Dina go early on Fridays if they weren’t busy. This gave her some quiet time to prepare for Phil’s body.
“You sure?”
“Yes, enjoy.”
“Well, you don’t have to tell me twice. Thanks. Enjoy your weekend too.”
Kyra watched Dina grab her purse and head out before she changed her mind. After Dina left, Kyra walked into the back room where the cremations were performed. The room housed two chambers, actually ovens, but the public didn’t like that term. Inside this room there were three smaller rooms off to the right side. A processing room, because at twenty-five hundred degrees the larger bones, such as knees and elbows, don’t burn. They needed to be pulverized. What the family actually received was the pulverized bones with minimum ash. Windows in the chamber doors allowed the attendant to view the process while the burn took place. She never understood why anyone would want to watch. From the outside of the building no one would know what was going on. The chambers actually did a double burn, burning not only the body, but all gases and odors as well.
The other two rooms were for storage—one refrigerated, in case the cremation didn’t take place until the next day. Kyra checked her watch: 2:55. Another check of the chamber area satisfied her she was ready for their arrival. Kyra headed out front to wait for them.
Kyra gave it to Phil—his people were on time. They arrived at three o’clock on the dot. The funeral director stopped in the office. She directed him to the side of the building where she’d receive the body. Meeting the funeral director made her nervous. The more people who knew what she did for Phil, the greater chance she had of getting caught. The hearse pulled into the garage area at the side of the building. She walked out to open the first bay, instructing the driver to back the hearse in. Both doors of the hearse opened. The undertaker stepped out of the driver’s side. After a few moments, the guard from Phil’s house stepped out of the front passenger side. He nodded, but didn’t say a word to her.
She pushed the table with the hydraulic lift to the hearse and locked the wheels in place. The funeral director, along with Phil’s man, loaded the coffin onto the lift. She noticed the family had sprung for an expensive coffin, instead of a cremation one. What a waste of money. A couple of thousand dollars down the drain, or in this case, up in smoke. The cremation caskets were made of a heavy-duty cardboard. They burned well, cost only a couple of hundred dollars. She unlocked the wheels, started pushing the body along the corridor to the chamber room.
“Do you have yo
ur paperwork?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Are you staying through the entire process?” She looked at both for their answers.
“Yes,” they said in unison.
“Okay. There’s coffee in the little kitchen by the front door and a vending machine in the workers’ locker room if you want anything.”
“Why don’t you get yourself a cup of coffee, Tony?” The guard spoke for the first time.
The funeral director looked from one to the other, nodded, and left the room.
“Kyra, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not leaving this room until the process is completed.”
“Okay.”
“Do you need to view the body?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“It’s not my job to verify the body or the identity of the deceased. It’s the funeral director’s job not to make a mistake.”
“Convenient.”
“Yes.” At least that would be her answer if she got caught. She didn’t know who was in the coffin and didn’t care, as long as he was dead and had her paperwork in order.
Chapter Eight
Phil’s henchman made Kyra nervous. He didn’t do anything except stand at the chamber watching her every move. In fact, she didn’t think he even flexed a single muscle. The two and a half hours while she waited for the cremation to finish seemed like the longest of her life. Pacing between the offices, she tried to settle down and process paperwork, but couldn’t concentrate on any one item. She wanted to call Trevor, but thought better of it. She’d wait until she got home.
“The burning part of the cremation is now over, Mr.…?” She didn’t know his name, couldn’t remember being introduced.
“Okay, what’s next?”
“What’s your name?”
“It’s not important. If Phil wanted you to know it, he would’ve told you.”
Kyra tried not to roll her eyes. “We have to let the ovens cool down for a good half hour.”
“Then what?”
“Then I rake the remains, pull the ashes out of the chamber, and put them through the processor.”
“What does the processor do?”
Burn in Hell: A Jake Carrington Mystery (Volume 2) (Jake Carrington Mysteries) Page 5