by Lane Hart
“I don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry. We’ll need to grab a bite to eat when we finish up here…” I say before it hits me that neither of us may be in the mood for food after we kill one, possibly two men. “Sorry. We can wait.”
“No, I’m getting hungry too,” Tessa says when she climbs off the bike and comes to sit next to me.
“You think you’ll be able to eat after?” I ask.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Guess we’ll find out.”
“Guess we will,” I agree.
“Have you, um, ever done anything like this before?” she asks as she fidgets with her hands in her lap.
“No, I haven’t,” I admit.
“Oh,” she mutters, sounding surprised.
What kind of person does she think I am?
“Do you think it will be hard for you?” Tessa asks. “For me, it’s personal, you know? Vengeance and all that.”
“Sweetheart, it’s personal for me too,” I assure her. “They may not have laid a hand on me, but what they did…I don’t have any doubts about going through with this.”
“Me either,” she says. “Even if that makes me a bad person. They’re worse.”
“True,” I agree. “And you could never be a bad person, not even after this. Do you hear me? You can’t think that way afterward, all right?”
“Yeah,” Tessa says with a sigh that I don’t entirely buy.
“So…how are things going with your parents?” I ask, since she hasn’t mentioned anything about them recently.
“Same old,” she replies. “They call every day, just like Paul. Sometimes I answer, sometimes I don’t. They’re worried and want me to come home, but I can’t.”
Fuck. Paul is still calling her? She still talks to him? When will that poor son of a bitch give up?
“Your folks probably just want to figure out what they can do to help. They care about you,” I tell her, avoiding the Paul topic altogether. “You’re lucky to have them.”
“I know,” she agrees sadly. “What about you? You never talk about your parents.”
“Not much to say about them,” I admit. “Never knew my mother. She left as soon as I was born. Dad has a picture of her, but that’s it. He may have raised me, but not in the conventional sense. Nowadays, well, he still only cares about himself.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Tessa says.
“It is what it is. He hasn’t ever called me first I don’t think. I send him a text every few months just to see if he’s still alive. As long as I get some sort of inappropriate emoji back, I know he’s good. So, give your parents a break. You don’t have to go live with them. Just talk to them when they call. At least they care enough to check in to see how you’re doing.”
“I just wish we could talk about something other than me, like before everything happened,” she says. “But for the past year, everything was about wedding planning, so now I don’t know what to say.”
“It’ll get easier,” I tell her. “Just ask them about what they’ve been doing. Steer the conversation back their way.”
“I try. When it works, those are the best conversations, making me feel like everything is normal again,” she replies with a smile.
Tessa and I chitchat for three or so more hours until around 9:00 a.m. when an older-model blue truck finally pulls in to the lot and parks.
“Shit,” I whisper as I crawl over to the saddlebag and pull out the pair of binoculars. “Here, come look,” I tell Tessa, who crouches down behind the bike to take them. Then we both kneel by the front tire to get a look as the man slips lazily out of the driver seat that is fortunately facing us.
As soon as I hear Tessa’s gasp, I know he’s our man.
“It’s him,” she says, lowering the binoculars and handing them to me. “He’s one of them. I’m sure of it. He has sandy-blond hair that’s thin and wispy in the front and a big nose. It was dark, but I did see that much.”
“I trust you,” I tell her, because I do. Tessa knows how serious what we’re planning is, and I know she wouldn’t go through with it unless she was certain. I watch the emotion on her face as she watches him – the anger, the sadness, the fear. That last one is the reason he has to die.
“He’s going in,” she says when her hand flies out and grabs on to my arm instinctively and holds it tight. “How long should we wait?”
“I say we give him ten minutes to make sure there are no other employees coming in running late, then we move, get this over with.”
“That makes sense,” Tessa agrees, still not letting me go. “But I doubt a town this small would need to use the funeral home more than once or twice a week. If there are any other workers, they would probably only be part-time and work at night, you know, for viewings or later in the day for funerals.”
“I hope you’re right about that. I don’t want to involve any innocents in this shit,” I say. And because I know she’s panicking at the thought of seeing him again, I tell her, “When we get inside, I want you to wait at the door until I call out when I find him. Then, you’ll need to check for security cameras. If anything goes wrong, you run out of there, you hear me?”
“Yes,” she agrees with a jerky nod.
While I do want her to check for cameras, mostly, I don’t want her to see me kill him. She can see his body once he’s no longer breathing, unable to hurt her again, but it’s too dangerous until then. He doesn’t look like a big guy or one in great shape, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be paranoid and armed after all the heinous things he’s done.
The whole ten minutes we’re waiting, I keep looking at my watch and going through all the shit that could go wrong. The worst is, what if I fail and he gets to Tessa? Unable to deal with that possibility, I reach into my bag and pull out the smallest gun I have – a snub-nosed .38 revolver.
“Do you know how to use a handgun?” I ask when I hold the handle out for Tessa to take it.
“Yes,” she answers when she takes it gingerly from me. “A little.”
“It’s loaded, and this one doesn’t have a safety. All you have to do is pull the trigger,” I explain. “Just don’t put your finger on the trigger unless you’re planning to pull it.”
“Okay,” she agrees, laying it on the cement beside her. “Are you planning…is that how you’re going to kill him?”
“No, that’s not what I have in mind. It’s just a backup plan,” I tell her as I slip on a clean pair of black leather gloves and give another old pair to Tessa. “Put these on and don’t touch anything inside, okay? If all goes well, I’ll choke him out, leaving no blood and no bullets.”
“That’s…smart,” Tessa says as she swallows loudly.
“Are you sure you still want to go inside with me?” I ask to make sure she hasn’t changed her mind. “I can do this on my own.”
“I know you can,” she says, her words sounding so sincere I want to kiss her. I push the thought away; I know better than to even think about that. “I can handle it,” she reassures me.
“Okay,” I say. “I won’t ask you again, but if you have to leave, run back to the hotel if you need to. The key will be right here,” I add when I place it in the saddlebag instead of risking it falling out of one of our pockets in the building. “Do you have any jewelry or anything else that could get accidently left behind?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Tessa replies as she spreads out her fingers, which are all bare. Still, I know she’s thinking about the diamond ring that used to be on her left hand.
“That’s good,” I say as I check my watch again for the time and to make sure it’s secure. “It’s been eleven minutes, so I guess we should get moving. Now or never.”
“Now,” she agrees, getting to her feet. “I’m ready.”
“Me too,” I reply.
What I wasn’t ready for was Tessa grabbing my gloved hand in hers and clasping our fingers together. She gives my hand a squeeze and says, “Now we look like a couple heading into the funeral home to make arrangements
for a loved one.”
“Right,” I agree as I start strolling to the black side door with Tessa matching each of my steps. “Think we’re lucky enough to find the door unlocked?” I ask as the door gets closer and closer until we’re right in front of it.
Glancing to the left and the right to make sure there’s no one around, I reach out and grab the door handle to give it a try. Sure enough, it turns easily. And with a gentle push, we’re inside. I flash Tessa a smile because I’m beginning to think this will be easier than I expected.
Tessa
* * *
Not only did we catch the monster alone, but he thankfully left the door unlocked for us. Verek steps inside the carpeted entryway with me right on his heels, quietly shutting the door behind me.
Immediately, I notice that the place smells like an overabundance of flowers, and not in a good way. It’s an almost sickening scent. Or maybe that’s death. Before I can think about it too much, Verek turns to me and points wordlessly to the floor, which I take to mean that he wants me to stay there. I give him a nod, and then he slips off, peeking into each room as he goes until he makes a right and is out of sight. The only sound in the entire place is the roaring of the central air blowing through the overhead vents.
When I realize I’m holding my breath, I try to force myself to inhale and exhale regularly even if it smells gross to calm myself and keep me from trembling. Occasionally I look out the small window on the door behind me to make sure there are no new cars pulling into the lot.
Only two minutes at most have passed when Verek calls out, “All clear!”
I quickly follow the sound of his voice down the hallway to the right. I hear footsteps on the steps that lead down to a basement and then startle as the top of someone’s head comes into view. Thank god, it’s Verek.
“You found him?” I whisper.
“He’s down there,” he says with a jerk of his chin toward the bottom of the steps.
“What happened? Is he…”
Looking away, he says, “I, um, was trying to cut off his air, but he struggled and then, I, ah, think I sort of broke his neck. He’s gone.”
“Good,” I reply with a heavy exhale of relief.
“Come on down if you want. I swear it’s safe,” Verek says as he turns and jogs back down. “I found his phone and a contact for Leroy. That’s the guy who works at the cemetery.”
“That’s…great,” I say, unsure how to feel about all of this at the moment as I carefully take the stairs without touching the rail, even though I’m wearing gloves. Right now, it’s best to try and just keep my head clear to get through the plan and worry about feelings later.
Down at the landing, there’s a sharp left turn leading to a set of double doors. When I pass through, I’m in a cold, sterile area with a gray metal table where they must prepare the bodies. It’s so quiet and creepy. Not to mention the crumbled form on the floor in front of Verek’s feet. I take a few more steps toward them until I can see his face. His bulging brown eyes are still open, and his face is slack, the flop of thin hair falling over his forehead. It’s a face I’ll never forget.
“He’s dead?” I whisper.
“Yes, he’s dead. I checked his pulse.”
When I just continue to stare silently at the body of one of the men who broke me, Verek eventually speaks up. “Tessa, sweetheart, say something. Are you okay? Are you going to be sick?”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, finally lifting my eyes from the dead body and taking a few steps backward.
“Good,” Verek whispers. Grabbing the front of his T-shirt, he presses the fabric against several parts of his face as if to wipe up the sweat. “Guess I should go ahead and text Leroy.”
I nod and try to figure out what we should say to get him here fast. “Tell him…tell him they need to talk. It’s urgent. But it can’t be done on the phone, so he won’t try to just call.”
“Okay,” Verek agrees before he starts typing in the message. I hear the swooping sound when he hits Send. “While we wait, I guess we should go ahead and get him in the oven. I think it’s in the other room down here. That’s where he was coming out of when I grabbed him.”
“Right, yeah.”
Verek puts the phone in his pocket and then goes over to grab the guy underneath his arm, dragging him toward the open door that leads further into the basement. “Do you, um, do you need help?” I ask.
“No, thanks. I’ve got it,” he replies. “Just make sure he didn’t leave anything behind, then check upstairs for cameras.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” I say as I go back over and search the floor and then tiptoe upstairs to look around just to have something to do. I’m pretty sure he just wanted me to leave instead of watching him use the “oven.” I make two laps around, searching every inch of each room for cameras without finding anything. When I get back down in the basement, Verek is closing the door behind him. “Leroy’s on his way.”
“Great. Maybe you should text another quick message like, ‘the side door is open, so come on in and down to the basement.’ That’s something friends would tell each other, right?”
“Probably. That’s smart,” Verek agrees as he pulls the phone out again to add the message. “I’m glad I brought you along. I had no idea you would be able to think so quickly under pressure.”
“Guess it’s a gift,” I joke with a half-smile. “And it comes in handy at work. Well, it did…”
“You’re a paralegal right?”
“You remembered,” I say in surprise.
“Of course I remembered,” Verek tells me with a grin. “You think I just came to visit you to talk about myself?”
“I thought you were just being nice,” I admit. “Since you sort of disappeared after I left the facility.”
“I told you – that was all Roman. You’re living in his house, and he’s my president. At least for the moment…”
“You think he’ll kick you out of the Kings for coming here with me?”
“I’m hoping he’ll see that we did him and the other guys a favor by keeping them out of it.”
“I hope so too. I’ll need to call Charlotte when we get back to the hotel so she won’t worry,” I say.
“You can’t call on the hotel phone, but I’ve got a burner you can use. It won’t be traced.”
“Okay, good,” I say, wondering if she’s found my bed empty and my note yet. It’s still early. “I want to hurry up and get this done so we can get out of here.”
“Me too,” Verek agrees. “Maybe you should hide in one of the rooms upstairs until he gets here?”
“No, not unless there’s a lock on the door,” I object.
“How about the ladies’ room? There’s no reason for him to ever go in there, and I can come get you when he’s down.”
“That may work,” I reply. “Walk me up?”
“Sure,” he says. “I’ll lead the way.”
I follow Verek up the stairs to the main floor, and we quickly find the women’s restroom. He even goes inside and looks in all three of the stalls before he starts to leave. “Stay here until I come and get you, okay?”
“Okay,” I agree since I don’t want to see Leroy, whichever one he was, again while he’s still breathing.
“Lock up behind me,” he adds on his way out the door, as if that wasn’t a given.
Chapter Seven
Verek
* * *
After I hear the lock click on the other side of the bathroom door, I go take a quick peek out in the parking lot to see if our next target has arrived yet.
He hasn’t. And luckily there are no other cars in the lot yet either. Guess Tessa was right. It’s a small town that doesn’t use the funeral home enough to need more than one full-time employee. If there are others, they probably only show up for events.
Dammit. I should’ve checked the local paper to see if there were any morning funerals today. In the summer, it would make sense that they would want to do them early, before it gets too
hot at the graveside for the grieving friends and family.
But if Leroy, the cemetery worker, said he’s on his way without bringing any appointments up, I doubt they have anything this early.
I head on back downstairs before he shows up and gets a glimpse of me in the door. There’s a great hiding spot underneath the stairs that’s dark and deeply recessed. That’s where I wait not-so-patiently for the next man to appear. It hits me that this one I’ll be taking out before Tessa even gets a good look at him to confirm he was there that night. But Joey gave up Leroy’s name, and he’s obviously a close friend to ole Donnie. He has to be one of the four men. And if he’s not…he’s collateral damage.
In the silent building, I finally hear the door upstairs open and then close, sending my heartbeat into overdrive, sounding so loud in my head, I hope he doesn’t hear it.
“Donnie? You down here?” the man calls out before his footsteps are hurrying down the steps. “What’s going on, man? Are we in trouble?”
That right there is all I need to alleviate any guilt I had about him not being the right guy. Who thinks they’re in trouble unless they’ve done some horrible shit?
I wait until he comes around the corner of the stairs and walks past me before I lunge. Unlike Donnie, Leroy didn’t see me coming, so he doesn’t even put up a fight when I lock my right forearm over his neck and pull back on it with my left hand, compressing his throat.
“What the –” it sounds like he tries to yell, but his body is already starting to relax. The hands that tried to reach up and pry my arm from his neck suddenly drop.
“This is for Tessa,” I hiss in his ear. “Rot in hell, you sick bastard.”
The rest of his body goes slack, and that’s all she wrote as I lower him to the floor. At least I thought so before I check his neck for a pulse. There’s still one there, but it’s faint. Fuck! We need to move fast.
“All clear! Get down here!” I yell as loud as I can upstairs, rather than waste time going to get her since he may only be out for a few more seconds.