Michelle stared out at Andrew, obviously surprised to see him, her badly-bruised jaw agape. Then she turned angry. Running at Andrew, she screamed, “You killed Jordan, you bastard.”
Andrew sidestepped and shoved out at her. The girl went skidding into the grass on her hands and knees.
“I assume you two have met, then?” Damien quipped from the doorway.
Andrew turned to him. “You going to get involved with this?”
“Hell no! She made her own bed, she can fucking well lie in it.” Damien started to close the door but halfway he stopped and gave Andrew some advice. “Hey, man, watch yourself with Frankie, okay? The stuff he jacked from me, it was a pair of shooters.”
“Guns?” Andrew attempted to clarify, but Damien had already closed the door and turned off the hallway light.
“You fucker!” Michelle cursed more obscenities at him as she clambered to her feet. She was half-naked and muddy, covered only by a pair of linen shorts and a strappy top. It didn’t seem to bother her, though, and she launched another attack at Andrew.
Striking out like a seasoned pugilist, Andrew struck the girl’s ribs. She fell back to the ground, sucking in air. “How’s that feel, sweetheart? I got a blade in my ribs so you still have a ways to go before you know about pain.”
He kicked her hard, striking her ribs in the same exact spot he had punched her. In the glow of the house’s outside lights, Andrew watched the girl’s cheeks turn bright red as she struggled to get a single breath into her failing lungs.
“Hurts, doesn’t it? Now imagine if I put you through this for hours on end, or made you watch while I tortured your family.” He kicked her again, this time in her rump, as she tried to crawl away through the mud. He felt his foot impact with the pointed tip of her tailbone and she squealed in agony.
“I’m sorry,” she yelled at him, managing to find her breath. “Just…leave me alone…please.”
Andrew looked down at the pathetic, mud-covered girl and felt no remorse. She was as twisted and as evil as Frankie. In fact, she had delighted in his family’s misery more than anyone else. “Seriously?” he asked her. “You’re going to beg me? Did I not beg you? Did you listen when I pleaded?”
Michelle shook her head, tears smudging makeup in the same way Penelope’s had the evening before. Andrew struck out again, kicking her face as hard as he could and enjoying the feeling of teeth cracking.
Michelle flopped onto her belly like a fish, spitting out broken shards of ruined teeth. The blood in her mouth had transformed her screams into petrified whimpers.
It isn’t enough, though. She deserves even worse.
As much as hatred filled Andrew’s heart and encased his grieving soul, he didn’t possess the ability to beat a young girl to death – regardless of how much she might deserve it. There were other things he could do, though. Time was running out and he had no leads on where to find Frankie, but perhaps Michelle could help him with that. There would be ways to make her talk.
Andrew knocked on Damien’s door and waited for it to open again. When it did, he nodded to the young man inside and said, “I need to borrow something.”
***
It only took minutes to carry Michelle into a nearby nature reserve. Luckily, Damien’s street was upmarket and lined with small outcroppings of woodland. It had been frightening how nobody had noticed Andrew abduct the girl – made him worry about the world his daughter was living in – but it wasn’t something he was going to complain about now.