by A. Zavarelli
“Motherfuck!” Brentwood roared. “You can’t do this. I’m a fucking cop!”
“Some cop you are.” I grabbed a rag and draped it over his face. “Did that badge mean anything when you were destroying Birdie’s childhood?”
“You don’t know anything.” The cloth puffed with each word he heaved. “You’ll never have what I had with her. I took her first.”
I turned on the shower and yanked the detachable head from the wall. “And I’ll have her last.”
Aiming the spray at his face, I blasted the cloth and watched him squirm as he slowly suffocated. It wasn’t until Kodiak stepped in to remind me of the end goal that I finally relented, allowing him to choke in air for a minute before I started the process all over again.
And so the evening continued. When the waterboarding grew tiresome, we folded Brentwood into a human pretzel and poured drops of capsaicin down his nose and throat. Throughout the night, just for the hell of it, we’d make him kneel and place the cool barrel of the .45 against his head. It was amazing how such a simple threat could break his spirit and renew hope when it never fired.
Whenever he started to regain movement in his limbs, we shot him up with another syringe, which he later admitted was a paralyzing agent he’d used on several women. For sixteen hours, we tortured him until his spirit was so broken, he actually started to beg for death. Being the merciful man I was, I told him I would give it to him, just as soon as he confessed all of his sins on paper. And confess he did. When I wrapped the noose around his neck, his eyes were as empty as his vacant soul. But before he left this earth, I had one last parting gift for him. So between the long sessions of choking him into unconsciousness and stirring him to life again, I revealed the information I knew would never allow him to rest in peace.
“It seems that Detective Taylor had been doing his own investigation on you.” I slapped him on the cheek until his eyes fluttered open one last time. “In fact, I hear they’ve uncovered a wealth of new evidence from his house in Nevada. What do you suppose they’ll find in there?”
“Fuck you,” he rasped, dangling like a limp noodle from the ceiling as Kodiak and I each supported his weight.
“Birdie will be free.” I leaned into his face so there could be no mistaking my words. “And she will never think of you again.”
With that final blow, Kodiak and I looked at each other, and then let him go, watching him twitch until he stopped moving altogether. He was gone from this earth. And tomorrow morning, the world would know exactly what a sick fuck he was.
“HOW’S THE BABY COMING ALONG?” The woman sitting across from me focused in on my protruding belly.
I wrapped my hands around the bump and glared at her. “Did you just come here to gloat? Isn’t that a little over the top?”
A smile I didn’t expect curved her lips as the district attorney shook her head. “I think I get it now.”
“Get what?” I studied her, trying to figure out what the hell she was smoking or why she was even here. It didn’t make sense for her to pay me a visit. Not when the last I heard she was dead set on crucifying me.
“I can’t even begin to imagine the long, hard road you’ve been down,” she said, her voice unexpectedly empathetic. “How many times you must have felt like the world was out to get you.”
I didn’t even know how to respond to that, but as it turned out, she didn’t expect me to. She reached into her briefcase and pulled out a file, the smile slowly slipping from her face as she spread out an array of photos before me.
I swallowed, and it felt like my heart was lodged in my throat as I examined the contents. The room was unfamiliar, but there was an entire wall covered in photographs… of me. Notes and napkins and hotel keys. Pieces of my clothing… items I’d worn ten years ago. Journal entries of my activities, my cons, and even what I was wearing on certain days.
“What is this?” I asked, unable to hide the horror in my voice.
“You tell me,” DA Carrera answered. “We found this in Eric Brentwood’s home.”
The room spun as I considered her statement. It was obvious he was infatuated with me, but this wasn’t just obsession. It was psychosis.
“I’m giving you one chance to tell me the truth,” the DA stated. “If you want to save yourself, now’s the time to do it, Birdie. Tell me what really happened that night with Trouble.”
I bit my lip, wringing my hands together in my lap. Could I trust her? What she was asking required a leap of faith I wasn’t entirely certain I was willing to take.
“If it matters, then you should know that Brentwood is dead,” Carrera added.
That trap seemed way too easy to fall into. I couldn’t suspend my disbelief. “How did he die?”
“Suicide,” she answered without emotion. “It looks like he strangled himself over a period of several hours before he finally worked up the courage to take his own life. A little odd, if you ask me, but it is what it is.”
But to me, it wasn’t. Brentwood would have never killed himself. There was no way.
“I need to see proof before I talk,” I stated, preparing for a fight. “How do I know he’s really dead?”
“I thought you might say that.” Carrera leaned down and retrieved another file from her briefcase, but this time, she hesitated before she handed it over.
“These photos are graphic,” she warned.
“My whole life has been graphic,” I deadpanned. “Let me see it.”
She set the file in front of me and repeated the process, spreading the photos out so I could see them clearly. My heart seemed to stop as I studied the lifeless body of the man in the pictures. It was, without a doubt, Brentwood, but even so, my paranoia made me question it. These could have been doctored. Carrera could be in on this scheme with him for all I knew. I wasn’t in the business of trusting people in a position of authority, and it didn’t seem feasible that I would start now.
All these thoughts must have been evident because Carrera came prepared. Next, she slapped his death certificate on the table. Police reports. Statements from his neighbors. Things I was certain the public would never see. But she was showing them to me.
“It still seems too good to be true,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.
“Look, I know this is hard,” she conceded. “But I can’t do anything else to convince you, short of taking you to the morgue to see him firsthand. And given your current circumstances, that’s not going to happen. But let me just ask you this, Birdie. At this point, what have you got to lose?”
I supposed she was right. I was already facing charges that would cost my entire future. Brentwood had made my life hell and threatened everyone I cared about. What else could he do if this was all some big charade? I didn’t know, but I had to think about this baby.
“I need something in writing,” I said. “A guarantee that whatever I tell you right now, you won’t bring any more charges against me.”
Carrera pulled a notarized document on office letterhead from her briefcase. It was already written up, and I couldn’t hide my surprise.
“I was told you don’t trust easily,” she said, “so I came prepared.”
I read over the document, and once I was satisfied, I met her gaze. “Where do you want me to begin?”
“Begin at the part when you came into contact with Brentwood,” she suggested.
“Okay.” I pressed my fingers to my temples while I gathered my thoughts. The truth had been locked up so deep inside me, it didn’t break free easily. I didn’t like to think of the night my whole world had been ripped away. First Ace, then Trouble. I could still see her every time I closed my eyes. Lying there on the concrete, her skull in pieces. I felt responsible for her death. I felt like I should have seen it coming. I never should have gotten out of that car. But I did, and I couldn’t rewind time. I could only tell the story how it happened and hope that by some miracle, Brentwood was really gone.
“Brentwood had been following up on me,” I began. “For quite a
while. I don’t know how he knew I was in Vegas, but he’d tracked down my sister and a few other people. He was on my trail for months. I’d always sort of known that it would only be a matter of time before the past caught up with me, so I wasn’t surprised when I heard he was looking for me. There was another man, Joe, who’d found me too.”
“This is the same Joe Crocker they pulled out of the dumpster behind Huck Fallon’s shop?” Carrera asked.
“Yes.” I nodded. “Brentwood wanted to eliminate Huck from my life, so he tried to set him up.”
“When is the first time you came in contact with Brentwood in Vegas?” Carrera asked.
“He saw me at one of the casinos,” I admitted. “When I was looking for a mark. I was supposed to meet him in his room, but something came up, and I ended up bailing instead. I felt like he was familiar, but I couldn’t really understand why until later.”
“Close call.” Carrera raised her brows. “How many times after that did you see him?”
“At one point, I called Joe and asked him to meet me at the Rio. We were supposed to make a deal to exchange the evidence he had against me, but it was a setup. He never showed, and when I left, someone attacked me. I never saw his face, but I’m certain it was Brentwood. He wore the same cologne.”
“You didn’t report it?” Carrera questioned.
“No, but I did go to the hospital. There’s probably a record of that under my assumed name.”
She drummed her fingers against the table, collecting her thoughts before she steered the conversation again. “Tell me how you ended up in California again.”
I fell silent as I thought back on that day. It was the last time I saw Huck. I’d left with a certainty that my actions repulsed him, and my heart hadn’t been right ever since. It still hurt me to think about it. Every time, I wondered what he was doing or if he really missed me the way that Gypsy said. But I couldn’t let those emotions interfere with my story. I just had to tell the truth as I knew it and deal with the fallout later.
“Trouble came to get me,” I said, “because Huck was brought in for questioning after Joe’s body was found. We left Vegas, and I didn’t know where we were going. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, we were here. She’d brought me back because Brentwood had made a deal with her. It was the only way to protect Huck. Neither of us wanted him to go to prison for another crime he didn’t commit, and when Trouble explained the situation, I knew the only choice was to hand myself over and claim responsibility for it. This was my mess, and it wasn’t fair to bring either of them into it.”
Carrera twisted the watch on her wrist, checking the time, and then refocused her attention. “But things didn’t go as planned, I take it?”
“He’d asked us to meet in an empty parking lot. We got out of the car and exchanged a few brief words under the impression he was turning me in. But instead, he shot Trouble and took me.”
Carrera quietly stewed over my version of events, and I didn’t know what would happen next. I tried to brace myself for it, but I couldn’t.
“According to his journal entries, he became enamored with you from a young age. I’m going to take a wild guess this happened when you were at Ricky’s?”
I couldn’t give voice to that affirmation, so I bobbed my head.
Carrera studied me, opting to break the news to me slowly. “Everything you’ve said so far corroborates Brentwood’s suicide note. Not to mention the new evidence that’s come to light.”
“There was a note?” I asked.
“Yes.” Her lips tightened into a thin line. “In addition to the evidence linking him to the murders of Trouble and Joe, there were also several bodies located in his basement.”
My stomach churned. “Whose bodies?”
“Missing teenage girls,” she said. “Horrifically enough, they all appeared to resemble you.”
I felt like I was going to vomit, and Carrera gave me a moment to collect myself before she opted to continue.
“With all this evidence coming to light, the state will not be going forward with the trial.”
“What does that mean?” I blinked, certain I was delirious.
“It means the charges against you in the state of California are being dropped. I’ve also spoken with the prosecutor in Nevada, and she’s prepared to offer you a deal for a few minor charges in relation to the theft.”
“What sort of a deal?” I asked.
“Three months, time served. If you accept, you’ll be free to remain on probation at home in Nevada.”
“But what about Ricky?” I forced out.
“After reviewing the evidence, the state believes it was an act of self-defense. Again, I’m not going forward with those charges.”
It still didn’t seem real. How could it be? Twenty minutes ago, I was resigned to the fact that my life was over. I had lost Ace, and once the baby was born, I would lose her too. I would spend the rest of my days in prison, doomed to think of them but never see them.
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Carrera said. “And I realize it won’t be real for you until you’re out of here.”
“What about Ricky’s operation?” I pried my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “What’s going to happen to those girls?”
Carrera offered me a sad smile. “The girls have been rescued. They are getting the help they need.”
“And the guys running it?” I pressed.
I could already tell by the expression on her face that I wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “Unfortunately, they disappeared. Somebody must have tipped them off. But we won’t stop looking for them.”
It wasn’t the answer I wanted or needed, but at least, for today, for right now… that group of young girls would be safe.
Carrera collected the files from the table and began packing her briefcase, and I knew she was right. None of this would ever feel real until I was standing outside, free from my cuffs and the crushing weight of my past.
As the district attorney moved toward the door, I felt the urge to say something. Anything. But the words didn’t come easily for me.
“Hey, thank you,” I murmured. “For coming here. For doing this.”
She offered me a tight smile and shook her head. “Don’t thank me, Birdie. It was just the right thing to do.”
KODIAK SHIFTED BESIDE ME FOR the sixth time in the past thirty seconds, and I had to stop myself from elbowing him in the side. He was nervous, just like the rest of my brothers beside me. They were anxious on my behalf, and it was a testament to their loyalty. Over the past few months, they’d all put in countless hours to help me. They’d tracked down every lead I’d given them and searched under every rock. And in that time, they’d come to understand Birdie wasn’t just a passing phase in my life. She was my whole fucking world, wrapped up in one beautifully damaged package. By default, that meant she wasn’t just mine to protect anymore. The Beards of War would look after her as if she were any of their own wives or daughters. But first, I still had to convince her to choose me.
In her absence, I’d had a lot of time to think about our relationship. Birdie and I had never done anything the typical way. I’d taken her by storm, the only way I knew how to handle a woman as wild as she was. I could have come in here with the same attitude today because there was nothing holding us back anymore. It would have been easy to pick her up the moment I saw her and cart her back to my compound in the desert where I could keep her and never let her go. And if I was being fucking honest, if she said no, I still might. But I didn’t want it to be that way. I wanted her to choose this life with me. Because Birdie had never had a choice in much of anything life dealt her before. I needed her to use her freedom to sit down at the table with me and say that I was fucked up, and she was fucked up, but together we’d figure out a way to make it work.
The problem was, I didn’t know if she would.
I still hadn’t heard a word from her. She’d refused all my visits, even after the transfer back to Nevada, and everythin
g was up in the air. That was why Kodiak was all shifty, and I was all shifty, and to my right, Gypsy looked as white as a sheet while we all waited to see what would happen.
I wanted a smoke to calm the pounding organ in my chest, but I held off. Gypsy had told me to bring my truck, just in case Birdie did agree to go home with me. I didn’t ask her why; I just did it. I was functioning on autopilot by the time we were finally given a release date. Until she was standing in front of me, absent of her chains, I wouldn’t allow myself to believe it was real. Now there was nothing left to do but wait outside the jail, along with the small army of bearded brothers who’d refused to let me do this alone.
The door opened, and the first thing I saw was a halo of golden hair shimmering beneath the afternoon sun. I held my breath and vaguely heard Kodiak murmur something beside me. He sounded surprised, but I couldn’t focus. My eyes were locked on her face. On the woman who always managed to appear like some kind of mirage that might slip away at any moment. She was clean faced without a scrap of makeup on, and she looked so goddamn fragile that it felt like a punch to the gut when her eyes locked onto mine.
Moments ago, the crowd was full of chatter, but now I could only hear myself breathing. Everything felt too quiet, too still. Time ceased to exist as we stood there, a silent war raging in our eyes. I waited for her to come to me, but she didn’t move. Her eyes darted to her sister, who was quietly sniffling beside me. There was a choice to be made. Birdie very well might decide she wanted to go back to her old life. I wanted her to choose, but even now, I doubted I could let her go.
My body was stiff when I held out my hand in offering. She stared at it for a full minute before she took a step forward. And then another. And another. And I couldn’t fucking wait anymore. My feet were moving before my mind could catch up, and before I could stop myself, I had her wrapped up in my arms, her head tilted back as I dragged my lips over hers and breathed her in.
“Birdie,” I choked out, drawing ragged breaths between kisses that were definitely not meant for an audience. I couldn’t help myself, and she was too stunned to move, but I drank from her lips anyway. She trembled, and then let out the softest, saddest sound I’d ever heard. I swallowed it down and tugged her even closer, desperate to narrow the distance between us. That was when I felt the roundness of her belly against me.