by Jon Mills
He could see hesitancy in her face. She looked past him then back at him.
“Where’s Jack?”
“In the back of a cruiser. It’s okay, you’re safe.”
He stepped forward.
“I don’t believe you.”
He was about to lunge at her when she raised the rifle.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” Vincent scoffed. “But then again, why should you? The butcher doesn’t kill children.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“Allow me to refresh your memory.”
Vincent reached into his jacket pocket and tossed what looked like a folded piece of card at him, dog-eared and crinkled. Jack could see it was a Polaroid. He took it between his bloodied fingers.
“Remember him?”
Jack stared blankly at the aged photo.
“You should. He was your first kill.”
Jack’s fingers smeared the image in blood.
“My father—or, as you remember him, Jimmy Burke.”
It had been many years since he’d seen that face. The events of that day played in his head. The look of surprise on Burke’s face as he touched the wound, as blood poured from it. As Jack turned to leave, he noticed a young boy peering out the back window of Burke’s car. There was something about the way he had stared at him that had never left his mind.
Jack coughed. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth.
“I was a very different man back then.”
Vincent smirked. “The Butcher grew a conscience.”
Dana shifted back, re-adjusting her grip on the pump action rifle pointed at Frank.
“Dana. You don’t want to do this. I can help.”
“Like the way you helped Matt?”
“I don’t know what Jack told you, but it’s all lies.”
“You said you didn’t see Matt that night.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“Don’t you dare tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about! You allowed people to believe I might be responsible. You used me.”
“I never intended—”
“Save it for someone who cares, Frank. All I want to know is what happened that night.”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. I swear, you tell me one more lie…”
She worked the action to chamber a round. He raised his hand in defense. “Wait. Why do you care?”
“He was still Jason’s father,” she said slowly.
“But we both know what he was doing to you.”
“Yeah, and you did nothing.”
Frank took off his hat and rubbed his brow with his forearm. The heat of the noon sun bore down on them intensely. His eyes dropped to the ground before staring off to the house.
“He was stubborn. You know that.”
“Bullshit. You were more concerned about how it would affect your career, your reputation. The way people would shun you. A sheriff’s son…”
He looked up. “Dana, you know how long I’ve been doing this job? Do you know what it took to get where I am? I tried, I really did. He refused help. I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“And that night?”
He shook his head, a look of exasperation or guilt spreading across his face. “If he’d just given them the money, maybe…” He ran a hand around the back of his neck.
“So, what, you killed him?”
“I didn’t kill him.” He paused and his chin dropped. “They did.”
“And you stood by and did nothing?”
He was silent, as if the weight of remorse was more than he could bear.
“You just turned a blind eye?”
“You don’t understand, Dana, I tried. I tried to help him. But he signed his own death warrant the moment he went down the path of drugs. If they didn’t kill him, the drugs would have. You should know better than anyone how many times I came rushing to his aid. How many times I risked my reputation, nearly lost my career, over his blatant disregard and irresponsibility. I warned him that the next time I wouldn’t get involved. These men don’t mess around.”
She grimaced. “But you were his father?”
Frank’s eyes dropped.
“What happened to you, Frank?”
“This career is what happened. It’s taken everything: my wife, my kid. You know, I had high hopes for that kid of mine? Did he ever tell you how I wanted him to join the department? You know, follow in my footsteps?” He sucked at his teeth, looking out over the water. “That wasn’t going to happen. It just wasn’t in the cards.”
He pressed the tips of his fingers against his forehead.
“No one wants their child to go off the rails, Dana. But we can’t control their decisions forever or the people they run with.”
She studied him. “But you swore an oath to protect.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I have to live with this every day.” He shook his head. “I hate the reflection in the mirror.” He groaned. “Every day. Every damn day, I put a gun to my head thinking this is going to be it. The day I end it. But I can’t even do that. Because I’m a coward, an old fool.” He paused. “Dana, I didn’t have a choice. They would have killed both of us.”
“We always have a choice,” she replied.
He looked at her, then turned his attention to Jason, who appeared equally stunned by Frank’s admission.
“Leave now. Go. I will tell them you were gone. Just go.”
Dana slowly took a step back with Jason closely behind. They were about to make their way down the dock to the boat when Jason was thrown to the ground. Dana spun around to feel the harsh back slap of Louis’ hand on her face. The rifle dropped to the dock then bounced into the water. As it disappeared below its murky surface, her heart sunk. She reached for her cheek, feeling the sting. It burned.
“What the hell are you doing?” Louis shouted at Frank.
Frank rose his hand slowly toward his sidearm.
“Just hold—”
Before he could react, Louis fired a round at Frank, hitting him in the neck. He crumpled to the ground.
“Damn pigs, can never be trusted.”
Writhing in the dirt, only the sickening sound of Frank choking on his blood could be heard, mixed with the waves lapping against the shore. Louis set off in the direction of where he lay, assumedly to finish him off.
Dana knew it was now or never. She had no doubt. They had mere seconds to react before he turned the gun on them. Making a mad dash for the boat wasn’t an option. She grit her teeth, grabbed her son’s arm, and sprinted for the lighthouse.
So petrified at the thought of dying they didn’t look back to see if he was hot on their heels. Sweat poured between her shoulder blades. They hadn’t made it more than ten yards from the storm cellar when a gun went off. The sound of the bullet was horrifying enough, but when it ricocheted off a nearby metal surface making it clear it was intended for them—fear took over. Dana stumbled to the ground, physically and emotionally drained. Jason clasped her hand to draw her up, but she couldn’t move. Like a blast of cold liquid nitrogen, she froze. All she could do was wait for the inevitable next bullet.
Then it happened. A short, sharp crack.
Chapter 30
VINCENT CIRCLED JACK like a rabid animal, never taking his pistol off him for a second. Jack blinked hard and wiped at the corner of his right eye, a trickle of blood from his head blurring his vision.
“You waited this long to seek retribution for your father’s death? Why didn’t you just kill me when I was on the inside?”
“Ah, Jack, you’re not seeing the big picture here. You might have pulled the trigger, but Gafino ordered the hit. These things take time. You should know that.”
“So what, you’re going to kill Gafino? You don’t think he has contingency plan in place in the event of his death?” Jack muttered, spitting out another glob of crimson red. “You’ll be dead before you get out of New Jersey.”
V
incent laughed. “Who said I was going to kill Gafino? A lot’s changed since you were out, Jack. Gafino is hanging by a thread. His reputation is shot. His whole operation is a stack of cards waiting to collapse. People don’t trust or respect him like they used to. They want fresh blood, not these old timers. Why do you think Freddy, Louis, and others got on board?”
Jack spat blood on the ground and chuckled.
“You came to destroy what you despised only to become what you despised.”
“What can I say? The money is good.”
“You gonna kill me or what?”
“I don’t want to kill you, Jack. Well… not yet. But I’ll tell you what I do want. I want you to suffer. To feel pain. To know what it’s like to have your life torn from you. I want to see it in your eyes. So I’m going let you watch as I tear apart your world piece-by-piece, starting with this bitch and her son, and then your sister. Then, when you can’t take anymore, I’m going to cut you limb from limb and leave you in a ditch to die.”
“Or…” Jack staggered as he rose to his feet and cracked his neck from side to side. “We can get this over with now, because I’m sick of listening to your bullshit.”
Vincent narrowed his eyes. Laying his pistol on the kitchen counter, he pulled two large knives from a rack in the kitchen and tossed one near Jack’s feet. Its echo filled the house.
“C’mon, Jack.”
“What? You want to give me a fucking cooking lesson?”
Vincent circled the room, tossing his blade from hand to hand as if he was playing a game of tennis and prepping to take his next shot.
“Pick it up,” Vincent said.
Jack kept his eyes on him as he reached for it.
“You know, I always wondered why they called you the Butcher. Some say it’s because you’re good with knives. Others, just brutal. Either way, let’s see if you live up to your name.”
They stared at each other with death in their eyes.
When Dana pried her eyes open, Jason was still clutching her hand. She cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. The sight of Louis’ body sprawled out on the ground gave her a moment of relief. Behind him, Frank slumped against a tree, his one hand clasped over his neck, the other barely clinging to his pistol. Dana hurried to him. Dropping to both knees, she pulled back his bloodied hand to inspect the wound. His skin was pale, clammy, and he was going into shock. She was no medic, but with the amount of blood he’d lost, she knew that if he didn’t get to a hospital fast, he would die.
“In the car. Call it in,” he croaked.
“Don’t try to speak.”
Tearing off the right sleeve of his shirt, she crumpled it up and pressed it against his neck, then took Jason’s hand and had him apply pressure to it while she sprinted to the cruiser. As she passed the house she could hear the sound of a violent struggle; glass shattered followed by several loud thuds, as if someone was breaking the walls of the house.
Inside the cruiser, she snatched up the radio transmitter.
“Officer down. Officer down!” she yelled before giving her location.
Back inside the house, it was an all-out war. In a close quarter death match, both of them traded punches in between trying to slash, stab, and end the other’s life. Their clothes were torn, showing signs of knife wounds to the legs, arms, and body. From the outside it would have been hard to tell who had the upper hand, since both of them matched each other blow for blow and were equally drenched in blood. The once tidy home now resembled a war zone after a bomb had gone off, as they continued grappling and slamming up against furniture. Shattered glass, split wood, and large chunks of drywall were strewn across the floor. Brawling from room to room, the assault never let up. Each one pummeled the other, inflicting as much pain as they could.
Jack managed to briefly lock his arm around Vincent’s throat, trying to choke him out before Vincent drove his head back into his face. Blinking hard, he staggered back, barely registering the pain before feeling the full brunt of a kick striking his ribs. They circled each other, feigning jabs.
As Vincent lunged at him, Jack grabbed his wrist before the knife reached his body, sharply twisting the knife away from himself. In one smooth motion he slammed his fist into his gut, following through by driving his own steely knife up into the pit of Vincent’s arm.
Vincent let out a wild, guttural cry, his eyes bulging in agony. Jack tried to parry that with a head butt, but Vincent brought his own knife down into Jack’s leg. Searing pain coursed through him, sending him backward. Huffing and panting hard, both men were exhausted. But there was no waiting for the other to recoup before they were back at it.
All Dana could see was Jack lying there, motionless. She hadn’t seen it happen, but she had heard it. The shattered glass and shards spread all over the gravel told her everything.
“Jack!” she screamed.
Glaring out from where the window once was were the malevolent features of Vincent. Frantically she turned around for the shotgun that was mounted between the seats, but it was locked. She clutched it, yanking at it with all her strength, but it was no use. There was nowhere to hide; he’d already seen her. As she turned back, it wasn’t the sight of him stepping out that frightened her, though that had unnerved her.
It was her son.
He must have heard her cry and sprinted to help. Before she could warn him, Vincent had a firm hold on the back of his collar.
It happened so fast.
“Let him go!” Dana cried, watching Jason flail his arms around before Vincent brought the sharp edge of the knife up to his throat.
“Get over here now!” he bellowed in a gruff voice.
Dana, fearing for her son’s life, hurried over.
“Please, don’t do this,” Dana was crying now.
“Shut the hell up.” Dragging Jason by the scruff of his neck, he instructed her to check on Jack. Her eyes darted back and forth between her son and Jack. She shoved Jack, as if trying to wake him from a deep sleep.
“Jack.”
Jack groaned as his eyelids beat like a bird’s wings. Fragments of glass were embedded in his neck. Trails of blood pooled in his clothing. His clothes were torn, and she could see he’d lost a lot of blood from the inside of his thigh.
“C’mon, Jack, don’t you die on me yet. I don’t want you missing the best part.”
Jack heaved, pulling himself up.
“Stay right there.” Vincent motioned with his knife at Jason’s throat.
Jack could see Vincent’s hand trembling; the effect of the wound beneath his arm was draining him of energy. Battered and worn, he cast a glance at the sobbing Dana and then the threat.
“You are getting slow, Jack.”
“Let him go, Vincent, and I’ll give you a chance to finish me.”
Vincent shook his head. A smirk formed. “Women and children. It’s an emotional weakness of yours. Does it pain you, Jack, to know that if you had taken care of me years ago when you took my father’s life, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation? Unlike you, I won’t make the same mistake. Now their deaths will be on your hands.”
Jack spat a wad of blood out.
“You kill them, you won’t get a cent of the money.”
Vincent laughed, removing the knife from Jason’s throat and tapping it against his own head like a crazed person. “You still don’t get it, do you? It’s never been about the money.”
“So what? You baited me?”
“I adapted. You’re not even meant to be alive, Jack. Had things gone right, you shouldn’t have walked out of that apartment that day. But you did.” He sniffed hard, twirling the knife in his hand as if conducting an orchestra. “Well, shit happens. After you went away, I needed a change of plan. Some way I could kill two birds with one stone. Become a made man, and put a bullet in your head.”
“You baited Gafino.”
“Now you’re catching on. I mean, you and I both know that a quarter of million is nothing compared to what he brings in
—but his reputation, now that means everything. I simply dropped a net; he swam into it. When I showed up in this backward town and picked up Matt, he was with his father. Guess he wanted his daddy to bail him out. I told the sheriff he’d get his son back if he cooperated. Which of course was never going to happen, unless he wanted him back in pieces.” He chuckled to himself. “Still strikes me as funny what people will say to avoid death. I mean, c’mon, the whole you won’t get the money if you kill me is a little overdone, don’t you think? But he tried it. Guess he actually did give a shit about his family.”
Dana dropped her eyes. Vincent tugged at the back of Jason’s collar.
“At least you know your old man tried, kid; that’s more than mine did.” Vincent directed his attention back to Jack. “Anyway, once you got out, I convinced Gafino to send you to collect the money. I just didn’t tell him I was going to kill you before you brought it back. I mean, I couldn’t have him killing you now could I?”
“So he knew Matt was dead when he sent me?”
“Of course.” He paused. “Oh…you thought these two…” He pointed slowly with the tip of the knife to Dana and Jason. “…were going to change his mind because of your dumbass rule?” He paused to relish the moment. “C’mon, Jack. Hell, I bet you thought you were going to waltz in here, bring back the cash, and walk away.” He let out a laugh. “You were dead the second that deal went south. In Gafino’s mind, you tainted his reputation, not me. And believe me, Jack. That’s all these old timers have left. Their reputation.”
For the few times that the knife was not on Jason, Jack was figuring out what to do. His own knife was several feet away. Going for it was out of the question. He didn’t stand a chance in hell with his leg wounded.
Thankfully he didn’t need to. As Vincent moved the knife away, Jason turned sharply beneath the wounded arm. All Jack could do was watch in horror at the thought of not getting to him in time. In an instant, Jason had twisted free from his grasp.