by Dara Girard
“I said what the hell do you want?”
He had seen a lot of people die in his life. He’d had an uncle shot, a sister murdered, a cousin who thought kissing a gun was the best way to go. But when he’d heard about Jason’s death, he’d cried like he hadn’t since he was nine years old and his beloved grandmother died of cancer.
A guy like Jason was supposed to live to a ripe old age and then die. He wasn’t supposed to be taken out like this. Duane had lived his life in shades of grey, he’d learned early that life wasn’t black and white. Good and bad. But Jason had been one of the first people that made Duane believe that there was actual good in the world. Good people. And someone had him killed. He’d had to protect him inside, but he’d never thought he would have to protect him outside. Even though he knew Jason was asking some questions about the company that put him away. He hadn’t thought his friend was in real trouble.
He’d live with that regret forever, but he’d make amends.
“Jason Redmon,” Duane said. “Tell me what you know.”
Hampton smiled. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
Duane pulled out his gun. “Do you want to lose a knee or a foot?”
“I don’t—”
Duane pointed at Hampton’s big toe and fired.
Hampton screamed, then let out a string of expletives.
“I saw you there. Of course you can pretend that you don’t know anything and I can pretend I don’t know where your little girl goes to school.”
“I don’t like threats.”
Duane fired again, hitting Hampton’s second toe. “Does that sound like a threat?”
“I don’t—”
Duane fired a third time, this time hitting Hampton in the shoulder. “I bet you thought I’d go for another toe, but I like to mix things up.”
“You crazy son of a—”
“Tell me what you know or the next one will hit your heart.”
50
She had to find out who Jason’s contact was.
Catherine knew what she was doing was illegal, but she didn’t have a choice. If picking the lock to Jason’s apartment would help her get the information she needed to catch his killer, she’d do it. Jason. She still couldn’t believe he was gone. Couldn’t believe that the last time she was here she’d been so happy.
She’d always remember him blowing her a kiss. She wouldn’t remember how she’d found him. Everything had gone so drastically wrong. But she didn’t know how. She knew it hadn’t been a burglary, but that was only instinct, she had no proof. She knew that he’d found something she only wished he’d told her what. With a soft click, the lock disengaged and she slipped into the apartment. She flicked her flashlight on and swept the room, trying to push from her mind the scene from before. It had been dark then too and when she’d turned on the lights and found Jason…
“You might as well put that away and turn on the lights.”
Catherine froze, her stomach twisting in knots. She knew that deep, gritty voice and it seemed to reach out to her in the darkness. What was he doing there? Why did he have to be there? What could she tell him?
She heard him sigh and then a table light turned on. Tytus looked at her from the couch. “Nice of you to drop in.”
His words were a little slurred and when she stepped closer she noticed the beer cans that littered the floor and table. Maybe that was a good thing, then he wouldn’t ask too many questions.
“I’d left something here,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant though her pounding heart made her feel breathless. “I have a key,” she said making a motion of putting something in her jacket pocket, hoping he wouldn’t ask to see it.
“Took you long enough to use it.”
Did that mean he heard her picking the lock? She gripped her hands into fists. She didn’t have time for him or his strange comments. “Excuse me,” she said then went into Jason’s bedroom, but his laptop was gone and so were some papers and several flash drives. She swore. This changed everything.
She returned to the living room.
Tytus hadn’t moved. “Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked.
“No,” she said unsure whether he cared or not.
“Shame.”
Catherine made a noncommittal sound. She hadn’t found what she needed and she didn’t want to be alone with him. She headed for the door.
“Just for one night pretend to be her.”
She halted with her hand on the door. Why did he have to bring that up now? She swallowed. “Who?”
“The other one. The one I met before. The one who reads dreams.”
“You’re drunk.”
He shook his head. “Not enough.”
Catherine slowly turned to face him, ready to say no. Ready to escape a room that both repelled and drew her and the man who did the same. But when she finally looked at him, he looked so miserable—anguished, devastated, distraught—that the sight of him briefly brought tears to her eyes. She’d remembered his eulogy at Jason’s funeral, how his voice broke, how he held his mother who could barely stand. Her heart couldn’t refuse him, although her mind screamed no. It was risky to pretend, but they’d both lost so much and she knew she may be the cause of Jason’s death—if she hadn’t encouraged him to look into his case he might still be alive—she felt that she owed Tytus somehow. She glanced at the littered beer cans and doubted he’d even remember the evening.
“You should—”
He held out his hand. “Please, just once.”
She took his hand, her skin tingling when she touched him, and sat down beside him. She cleared her throat, hoping to keep her voice steady. “I probably won’t do it right since I don’t know how she did it.”
Tytus bit his lip and shook his head. “I don’t care.”
“Close your eyes.”
“I’m afraid to,” he said, closing his fingers and trapping her hand in his.
She didn’t move, not sure how to read him. “Are the dreams fierce?”
“I wished they’d warned me. I would have protected him. I could have done something.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
“You sound certain of that. She was certain of things too.”
Catherine glanced down at their hands. “Did you hold her hand like this?”
“I wanted to,” he said, his voice deepening. “There was so much I wanted to say to her, but she disappeared.”
“I’m sure she had a reason. And now you must forget her.”
“Or try to find her again,” he countered.
She had to change the subject. “If you want to pretend, you have to tell me your dream.”
Tytus fell silent then said, “I’m at a large banquet where all the food is wax. But everyone else is eating it and they are happy and I’m starving.”
“Are you really starving or does it just appear that way?”
He paused. “You’re right. I feel fine, but I feel like I should be eating too. My brother is a little boy and he keeps his hand on my shirt, tugging on me every time I go towards the table.”
“Your brother visited you in the dream?”
“It only felt like that, I’m sure it wasn’t real.”
But she knew it was very real. His brother wanted to warn him. Warn Tytus, he’d said before he died. But from what? She still didn’t know. She envied Tytus’s connection with Jason. She’d hoped he’d visit her too, but her dreams were no longer remarkable, except for the one when she was a child and she wasn’t sure that would ever come true. But she couldn’t focus on her pain, when Tytus’s pain was so clear. She could offer him comfort. Perhaps he’d even forget her words and imagine it was a dream too.
“You must be very careful about the people surrounding you,” she said. “There will be a major opportunity that you must resist. It will be tempting but you must turn away.”
“Must I turn away from every temptation?” he asked holding her gaze.
“I don’t understan
d.”
“I think you do. What step should I take?”
She pulled her hand away and stood. “I can’t help you.”
“What about another dream I have? A dream where I’m in this big bed and I like it, no…that’s wrong. I love it. It’s perfect for me, but then I lose the bed and it ends up in my brother’s house and he loves it as much as I do. I don’t have the heart to tell him the bed had once been mine so I let him have it until…one day my brother’s no longer around and I want the bed back. Should I take it?”
“You and your brother may have loved the bed, but was the bed ever yours to claim?”
“Good question.”
“You can always get a new bed. Property can always be replaced.” She should know, she’d been property for years.
“Why did you disappear?”
She turned. “I’m going home.”
“Make up a reason, I don’t care.”
“We’ve pretended enough.”
“Not enough for me. I want to pretend that my brother’s still alive. That he’ll come through that door or send me a text. I want to pretend that my mother…” his words fell away.
Catherine turned back and knelt in front of him, remembering how lost she’d felt after Evelyn died. “I know.”
“It hurts so much I’m afraid I’ll never stop missing him.”
“I know.”
“Did you know I’m a selfish bastard?” He nodded at the look of surprise on her face. “I wanted him out of the way so I could have you to myself. But not like this. I would change places with him in an instant.”
“He wouldn’t have wanted that.”
He studied her for a long moment. “You’re not angry at me.”
“You can’t stop how you feel.”
“No. Can you?” he asked his dark, gritty voice low with meaning.
Catherine swallowed unable to read him. Something had changed. Suddenly his words didn’t appear to be as slurred. Suddenly his gaze seemed clear—more intense. She saw a quiet fury simmering in his eyes.
“I should—”
“Tell me what happened.”
Now she could read him. She could see his fury, but it was controlled. Too controlled. She didn’t know how to proceed. There was so much she couldn’t tell him. He’d tricked her, he’d gotten her to let her guard down. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Yes you do.”
“The police said—”
“I know what the police think. That’s not why I’m here and you know that. Why is my brother dead?”
“I don’t—”
She stopped when he lifted his hand. He frowned. “Why did you flinch like that? Did you think I was going to hit you?”
Yes. “No.”
“I don’t hit women.” Tytus folded his arms. “I just don’t want you to confuse me for a patient man. I want answers not lies.”
“I’m not—”
He let his arms fall to his sides and leaned forward. “We both know he wasn’t killed by a burglar.”
She paused wondering why he would think that. What made him suspect? Did he know something she didn’t?
“Am I right?”
There was no point in denying it. “Yes.”
“My brother was keeping secrets. Jason never used to, until he met you,” he said sending her a cutting stare. “But you’re good with secrets I imagine.”
She blinked. She wouldn’t be provoked. That would give him the upper hand. “Do you have a question?”
“What was he hiding? I overheard him mention a ‘contact’?”
Catherine shook her head. “I never got to hear who he’d spoken to. I can’t—”
Tytus hung his head. “Did you love him at all?”
“With all my heart.”
“You admit to having one?” he said with a cynical twist of his lips. “My brother had the biggest heart of anyone I’d ever known and he’d fallen hard for you. He would have done anything for you. Walked over hot coals, run into a burning building, taken a bullet for you. Wait, he already did that.”
“I didn’t kill him!”
“Then who did?”
He had her. He’d stabbed her with his accusations and caused her to lose her composure--again. Now he was twisting the knife. “I don’t know.”
“But you have an idea,” he pressed, his eyes studying her.
“I couldn’t stop him and...”
“You couldn’t stop him from what?”
Catherine sighed defeated. “We were investigating the company that charged him with embezzlement.”
“You think they’re behind this?”
“Yes, but I don’t have proof. Don’t worry I’ll find it. Your brother will be revenged.”
“Why didn’t he tell me? There’s nothing wrong with him trying to clear his name.”
“He didn’t want you or your mother to know. He—I was afraid it was dangerous.”
“But he trusted you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Because I gave him the idea. “I don’t know.”
Tytus folded his arms. “Another lie, but I’ll let that slide for now.”
“All you need to know is that—”
He wagged a finger. “No, don’t tell me what I need to know. I’m not going anywhere until I get the answers I need. The answers I deserve.”
“Yes, you’re right.” She clasped her hands together, choosing her words carefully. “I didn’t realize it would be so dangerous or I would have done everything to stop him. In the end he was worried about you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“That’s what I am trying to figure out.”
“So that’s what you’re hoping to find on his laptop?” When Catherine hesitated, he continued. “It was one of the things our ‘burglar’ decided to steal.”
“Of course.”
“I think we should work together.”
“And why should I trust you?”
“You don’t have to trust me, but if you want to avenge my brother’s death, you’d better consider it.”
“Why would I do that?”
His dark eyes flashed with promise. “Because when it comes to revenge, I plan to get it first.”
No, you won’t. “Goodbye,” she said.
“Until we meet again,” he said as she walked out the door.
Moments later, Catherine sat in her car contemplating her next steps. She couldn’t work with Tytus. She couldn’t continue to play Evelyn with him when he was determined to treat her like Catherine. She had too much to do. She’d have to find the truth on her own.
Her cell phone rang just as she started the ignition. She glanced down and she saw a familiar number. “Hello?”
“Evelyn?”
“Yes,” she said, surprised to hear Duane’s voice. She’d gotten to know Jason’s former cellmate without Jason knowing about it. She knew a man with Duane’s background could prove useful. So far he’d proved loyal and trustworthy.
“I’ve got some information,” he said.
“I’m listening.”
“I know who Jason’s contact was.”
Part IV
Revenge
51
Are you sure the baby is yours? C
Greg looked at the note then looked at his wife with new suspicion as she sat on the other end of the couch. Who was ‘C’ and why had they left the note on his desk at his office? Was it a prank? If it was real, what did they suspect?
“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked her, hoping to sound nonchalant.
“Why would there be anything?”
He handed her the note.
Lorna looked at it, her lip trembling a fraction before she frowned. “Well, this is clearly a joke.”
“I missed the punch line. This isn’t the first.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve gotten other notes like this. All one sentence. All like
this.”
“Then someone’s stalking you.”
“What are you hiding from me?”
“Nothing.”
He nodded at her stomach. “We both know this mistake shouldn’t have happened.”
“The baby is yours, I haven’t been with anyone else. I can’t believe what you’re accusing me of.”
He couldn’t either. He never would have suspected this, but now… “I want to make sure.”
“You can’t be serious. I haven’t been with anyone. When would I have the time?”
Her outrage didn’t bother him, but made him more determined. “We’ll make an appointment.”
“I won’t go.”
“Because the child isn’t mine?”
“Because this is insulting.”
“You know this isn’t even the worst of them.”
“I don’t care.”
He went over to a desk drawer and pulled out a slip of paper. “No, you’ll like this one. It said ‘Are you sure your wife’s pregnant?’ I wonder why they’d say that?”
“Because they’re crazy.”
“You haven’t let me see you these past several months.”
“I just haven’t been in the mood.”
“Remember when we took a shower together when you were pregnant with—”
Lorna stood. “I’m going to bed,” she said, heading for the hallway.
“Are you planning on having a miscarriage?”
She halted, but didn’t dare to turn around.
“That’s what another note said. ‘Be careful, she might miscarry.’ Isn’t that strange for someone to say?”
“Yes.”
“What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why have you made doctor’s visits that you haven’t gone to?” He slowly stood and approached her. “Isn’t that strange.”
“Please don’t do this. Trust me. I—”
“Why are you backing away from me? Isn’t it right for a father to touch his unborn child?”
Lorna searched her mind in a panic. What should she do? Who was sending him notes and why? Why were they doing this to them?
“Greg,” Lorna said taking another step back. “Let’s talk about this.”