The Mermaid & The Crocodile (The Kill List Series Book One)

by Edee M. Fallon

“Is that them?” I asked from the dark confines of our car.

  “Yes.”

  “Which one?”

  He sighed and looked away as he replied, “All of them.”

  “I don’t understand. Who are they? Why would they kill my mother?”

  “The two men in the front are Ignacio Garcia and Luis Rodriguez. They’re bodyguards, of sorts.”

  “What does that mean, of sorts?”

  “They serve and protect the other man, Tony Valdez.”

  “Why do I feel like I know that name?”

  “Because you do. I work for him, too.”

  My stomach turned at that confession and a thousand questions scrambled my brain. I wasn’t exactly sure what kind of work my father did for that man, but I knew it couldn’t be good if he still worked for him knowing that he was responsible for the death of my mother. I also knew that he would not tell me what kind of work it was even if I dared to ask, which I wouldn’t. Yet. That conversation was reserved for another day.

  I let his words sink in as I glared towards the house with hate in my eyes and my soul. The front door opened and the young boy came running out into the yard and began rooting around in the car, obviously looking for something he’d left behind. As I watched him, I wondered if he knew that his daddy was a killer. I knew it was wrong, but even then I wanted to make him feel like I did. I wanted to take away his mommy so he would know what it was like to grow up without one. A shadow form appeared in the open doorway and beckoned the boy to return back into the house. He pulled the boy into a hug as he tried to pass. It must have been his father. He released him, stepped into the house and closed the door behind them.

  “What are you thinking about, Berty?” my father asked, pulling me out of a dark place that I’d just discovered within myself.

  “Nothing,” I replied as I attempted to quell the bile rising up my throat.

  “What did I say earlier? No secrets, remember?”

  I took a deep breath to steady myself before I answered. “I’m thinking that I want to take his mommy away so he knows what it’s like to not have one.” The look on my father’s face was indiscernible. I was expecting to see disgust in his expression, but instead he seemed resolved. “That makes me a bad person, doesn’t it?”

  “Depends,” he said as he turned to look out the window. “I can’t say that I don’t understand why you would say that … because I do. It’s irrational to think that way, but anger makes you do and say things you never thought you were capable of. Believe me, I know. But, you can’t kill his mother because she’s already dead.”

  “Did you ...” I trailed off, not really wanting to ask that question or have it answered.

  “No, Berty, I didn’t,” he said as he turned back to me. “She got sick a few years ago, but even if she hadn’t I’d have never taken her life.”

  “Do you want … to take that man’s life?” I asked.

  “No, Berty,” he said as he started the car. ”I want to take all of their lives.”

  When we got home my father sat on my bed and reviewed the files he’d created over the years. I was intensely fascinated by his words and the pictures lain before me. We sat up for hours studying them together. Before I fell asleep, I told my father that I wanted to help him. “Okay,” he had said before I drifted off to sleep.

  I awoke the next day grimly determined to become part and parcel to whatever my father had planned. I left my room, heading for the kitchen to find something to eat, but the sound of my father’s angry voice froze me where I stood. It was coming from his study. The door was closed, but I took a chance and crept up to it, pressing my ear against the door.

  “What do you mean you took her to Tony’s house? Are you insane?!” It was my father’s partner Tom who spoke those words. They were talking about me.

  “It’s time she knew the truth,” my father replied.

  “She’s only ten years old!” Tom exclaimed. “Aren’t you worried about her safety? God knows you aren’t worried about your own.”

  The sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor had me backing away from the door. My father was coming for me, I just knew it, but I could not drag myself away.

  “Of course I am!” my father yelled. “Why do you think I’ve been training her? She needs to learn to protect herself.”

  “Let’s not kid each other. We both know what’s going on here. You’re going to war and she’s your secret weapon,” Tom said accusingly.

  “I can’t talk about this with you.”

  “Fine. I’ll go. Don’t bother seeing me out.”

  I ran from the door and into my room as fast as I could. I opened my closet and got dressed. When the house fell quiet again, I decided to give breakfast another go. I prayed I would not run into my father, though. After an argument like that, he would definitely be difficult to deal with all day. Once I finished breakfast and cleaned my dishes, I walked around the house wondering where my father had disappeared to. I glanced out the front window and noticed his car was gone. Estefania did not work on weekends so I was home alone, a very rare circumstance for me. Since I had privacy, I decided to sneak into my hidey-hole for a little while.

  I lifted the cover to my private space and reached inside, grabbing the most precious possession I had. It was my mother’s favorite story, The Mermaid & The Crocodile. I borrowed it from her hope chest that was still sitting at the foot of the bed that my parents once shared. I had promised myself that I would return it after I finished reading it, but I had not gotten around to it yet.

  It was something my mother loved. It was something she used to hold within her hands. I laid in bed pretending that she was next to me and that we were reading it together, something we would have probably done if she were still alive. I had just begun my third reading when I heard the front door open. Oh no, my father was back. I scrambled to my closet and opened up the cover to my hidey-hole, hoping he wouldn’t find me before I had the chance to put it away. He would have my hide if he knew. I quickly stuffed it away, closed the cover and placed the purple rug over it. I sat back on my heels and took a deep breath; he hadn’t found me. With a smile of victory on my face, I turned around and found my father standing behind me. Uh oh. This was going to be bad.

  “What are you doing?” he asked me.

  I did not want to answer, but I did not have a choice. I had been caught red handed. “Um …”

  “I’ll ask you one more time. What are you doing?”

  No matter how hard I tried, I could not bring myself to tell him. We had made so much progress the day before and now I had gone and ruined everything. Once he saw what I had stashed in there, he would never trust me again. I would probably never see my mother’s beloved book again, either. That thought alone brought tears to my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Instead, I hung my head in shame as my father approached me.

  “Move,” he ordered.

  I froze.

  “Move now, Roberta!”

  I scrambled out of his way as he ripped the closet door fully open. He bent down, picked up the rug by its edge and tossed it aside. He got on his knees and lifted the cover to my secret hiding place.

  “What’s this?”

  “Nothing,” I said weakly.

  “Goddamn it, Roberta, I said no secrets!” he yelled as he reached inside and grabbed my mother’s book. His eyes flashed with rage. I had never truly been scared of my father until that moment. His eyes were black, a void that was quickly being filled with savage anger. He threw the book down and reached in again and again, throwing all of my dark secrets into the light.

  I took a step back and then another, turned on my heel and fled. I made it out of the house and ran down the street. Once I was a few blocks away, I chanced a look over my shoulder. He was not there as I had expected, but I kept running anyway. I ran until I was out of breath and then ran some more. When my adrenaline tapered off, I stopped running and found myself in a rundown neighborhood that I had only ever driven thr
ough on a rare occasion that brought us this way. I could not go back home. I did not want to. I sat on the curb weighing my options. He was either going to cool off or let his anger stew. I needed to do something to make my punishment less severe. At that moment, the answer came to me as if it had been spoken in my ear.

  I stood up and looked around until I found exactly what I needed: a rundown sedan parked at the curb. Glancing up and down the street, I checked to see if anyone was watching me. With my most casual gait, I strolled up to the car and leaned my back against the driver side door. Nothing happened. With my left hand, I grabbed the handle and pulled. It was open. Using the skills Hugo taught me, within a few moments the engine had turned over and I was in business. I got behind the wheel, pulled the seat as close to the steering column as possible and drove off. It was the first time I was thankful for the long legs I’d inherited from my mother.

  I sat up as tall as I could, but there was no way anyone would believe I was old enough to drive. Absently I thought I should have picked a vehicle with darker tint, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and it was a little too late to turn back. I smiled to myself when I thought ahead to telling Hugo about my first car lifting experience. He might not approve of the car I chose, but he would definitely be pleased at how fast I was able to manage on my own.

  I received some odd looks as I made my way towards Coconut Grove. Once I hit the highway, everyone was going too fast to notice the child behind the wheel. The cars speeding past should have scared me, but I was too determined to notice. It was a risky and very stupid stunt, but I pulled it off. When I made it to the neighborhood, I parked the car a few blocks away from my target destination and strolled through the streets as if I belonged there. No one even glanced my way.

  When I got closer to the Valdez house, I cut through a neighbor’s yard and walked along the shore. Tony’s house was easy to pick out from that side. His was the only one with privacy walls high enough to not allow anyone a chance to climb over. Looking around, I tried to find something that would allow me access to see onto the property. I wasn’t sure what I expected to glean from spying on them, but I hoped that whatever I might see would possibly lessen the amount of trouble I was going to be in when I got home. I kept looking, but came up with nothing to help me. Frustrated, I put my hands on my hips and tilted my head back to curse the sky for my rotten luck. Instead of the sky I saw trees. Very tall trees surrounded the property between the beach area and the walls that protected its inhabitants. I’d never been much of a tree climber—I didn’t like heights—but I was determined to not go home without some kind of offering.

  It took me a while to find a branch low enough to begin my ascent. By the time I was high enough, I had several scrapes on my knees and my palms. Ignoring the pain, I climbed further out on a branch that extended towards the wall I sought to see over. The tops of the cement walls were embedded with shards of glass. There was no way in hell I was getting over without seriously injuring myself. I’d rather face my father’s wrath than end up flayed alive and at the mercy of the man who murdered my mother. Looking around, I realized I was stuck. Literally. I didn’t know how I was going to get down. I chanced a quick peek below me and immediately wished I hadn’t. My head grew dizzy and my stomach rolled. I squeezed my eyes shut and took several deep breaths to try and calm myself. It helped, but not much. The sound of laughter pulled me out of my dizzying thoughts and switched my focus to the scene unfolding over the wall before me.

  Eddie had come out of the house in his swim trunks. His murdering motherfucking father was right behind him. I was immediately transfixed by their carefree banter and my stomach turned again; this time for much different reasons. Although I couldn’t hear what they were saying, it was obvious that they were close. Tony picked Eddie up and threw him in the pool and I caught myself smiling, but quickly wiped it off of my face. A few moments later, the backdoor opened again and one of the men from the day before came striding out with a phone. He handed it to Tony who quickly went inside. He hadn’t even spared his son a look before he closed the door behind him. I watched Eddie as he waited for his father to return. Even though I didn’t have on a watch, I was sure at least a half hour had passed as Eddie waited on his father to return. I found myself empathizing with him. I knew a lot about being forgotten by the one person whose attention you wanted most of all. He wiped at his face, as if he was crying then suddenly turned and looked right at me, as if he knew I’d been there all along. I was frozen in place as we stared at each other. I’d been caught, for the second time in a single day. I really needed to practice my ninja skills.

  Eddie’s eyes stayed locked onto mine as we were both stuck, mouths gaping, in a staring competition. But then, he did the strangest thing. He didn’t yell for help. He didn’t ask me who I was or what I was doing there. Instead, he raised his hand and gave me a small wave. Not knowing what else to do, I waved back and then quickly disappeared into the more covered interior of the tree. I was on the ground and running back to the car faster than I knew I could move, my self-preservation winning out over my fear of heights.

  Once I’d returned the car a few blocks farther away from where I’d originally “borrowed” it, I reluctantly walked back to my house. My father was sitting at the dining room table waiting for me. He didn’t yell as I’d expected, but the disappointment was written all over his face, which was far worse.

  “Where have you been?”

  I wasn’t sure if I should tell him the truth or not. A question that I had thought earlier popped into my mind. I asked it instead of answering him. “Are you really training me to help you?”

  He let out a deep sigh and rubbed his face with both of his hands. He steepled his fingers and rested the tips under his nose. “Where were you?” he asked me again, still too level to be considered truly calm. It was kind of freaking me out.

  Feeling brave for some unknown reason, I figured it was better to be honest. “Exactly where you think. Exactly where you were afraid I went. You said last night that I could help you. I thought maybe—”

  He slammed both of his hands down onto the table, rattling the bowl of fruit that Estefania always kept filled. I thought the formica top was going to shatter into bits under the force of his blow. He stood up and came around the table. I backed away until I could go no farther. I was now trapped between six feet of angry man and the kitchen counter. I’d never felt so small and helpless. I dropped my head because I couldn’t stand to look at him. He didn’t speak immediately. I guess he was trying to rein in his anger.

  “Look at me,” he said once he finally spoke.

  I did what I was told, too scared to add any more infractions to the ever growing list of the day. I went on the offensive, trying to ease the rage that was rebuilding within him. “I’m sorry.”

  He huffed out a frustrated laugh then an exasperated breath. “You’re sorry? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? Christ, Berty, I called in every favor that any officer owed me. The entire Dade County Police Department and the FBI have been looking for you. I don’t even know what to say.” He turned around, as if he could not bear to look at me another moment longer.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. I really had nothing else to say at that point.

  Turning back to me, he continued. “Why? Why would you risk your safety like that? Don’t you know you’re all I have left? I’d be ruined if anything ever happened to you, especially at the hands of that family. You can’t ... You just can’t take off like that, Berty. Promise me you’ll never go there again.”

  “Okay,” I said, not knowing at the time if that was the truth or not.

  I left the kitchen after that and got ready for bed. It had been a long and trying day and I could hardly keep my eyes open. I showered, brushed my teeth and climbed under the covers. My worn out copy of The Fellowship of the Ring rested open and face down on my nightstand. I picked it up then set it back down, too tired to even read. I switched off my bedside lamp and closed m
y eyes. The last thought I had before drifting off to sleep was that my father never mentioned the hiding space … or my mother’s beloved book.

  I awoke in the middle of the night to find my father standing in my open doorway. “Goodnight, Little Bird,” he had said without explaining what that meant. I stared at him for a few moments before I closed my eyes and fell back asleep.

  Tears ran down my face as I remembered that fateful day with my father. I looked at the clock on my dash and realized I’d been sitting in the parking lot of the gun range for over an hour. I could not even remember how I got there. The tension I’d been feeling from my earlier shopping excursion had been replaced by something else: infinite sadness. I could not be around anyone like this and I’d be too dangerous with a gun to go inside. I put the car in reverse and headed back to my hotel. I was done with today. Maybe I’d try again tomorrow ... Maybe.

  Days turned into weeks and I still had not taken action, instead directing my energy towards moving into my new residence. I’d gone shopping for furniture and everything else you would need to turn a house into a home. The size of the house made the task daunting for one person, but I managed it somehow. At least it allowed me an opportunity to focus on something other than my revenge. Once the place didn’t feel so empty, I was left alone again with my thoughts and I knew that I had to start working on how I was going to find Eddie. But first, it was time to check out the beach.

  It was a gorgeous March afternoon in South Florida. The beach was deserted except for an occasional sunbather enjoying the perfect weather. After laying out my towel, I rolled onto my stomach and opened a book I’d read more times than I could recall, almost able to recite it completely from memory. My collection from my childhood wasn’t in the house when I’d gone to retrieve the final remnants of my life after my father’s murder. I assumed my father had thrown them out or given them away. He wasn’t a sentimental person, either, unless it came to anything that had belonged to my mother. I wondered where my beloved book had ended up. It was too sad to think it had burned to ashes in the fire. That thought had me setting my book aside and staring at my phone.