I wasn't about to let him vanish.
No one said anything to me as I walked by them. They kept smoking, a glance or two tossed at me. Act natural, I told myself. In the interior, there was a long table covered in flowers. A giant poster-board with a young man's face was smiling at nothing.
His hair was mossy green, teeth unnaturally white. The scrawled, elegant writing below said: Hector Mafaso, Gone But Not Forgotten.
There were voices rumbling gently down the hall. I stopped, staring at the photo again. So this is Hecko. I didn't see the resemblance to Frank. I'd expected his last name to be Montego, too. It must mean Frank had a sister, someone who'd married and taken another man's surname.
Juice said he died in an alley. I wonder how? Abruptly, I recalled the news the other day. I'd seen them talking about this! It was unsettling to connect the two events.
Hoisting my purse, my tongue started to tingle as I entered the main room. It was full of people, grouped up and chatting, some of them in tears. I was out of place and I knew it, but the fear I had was being overrun by my determination.
Lars was bent over a woman, holding her hands and speaking softly. She didn't look pleased to see him. Those tight lips and narrowed eyes made it clear.
“He was a good boy,” Lars said. He kept patting her hands, making a show of comforting her.
The woman forced a smile so jagged it made me pull up short. I stayed where I was, backing up until I hit the nearest wall. I could watch from here, hopefully I'd be ignored.
Briskly, she pulled her arms to her sides. “Yes. He was. Good of you to make it tonight, Lars. I take it you're back in town, then?”
Lars chuckled. I saw his teeth, the filling that replaced the gap I'd committed to memory. “Not quite. Did you miss me already, Janice?”
“I just wanted to know if I should start locking my doors at night,” she said, still with her sugar-sweet grin.
Adjusting his tie, Lars lowered his tone. I could barely hear him. “You should always lock your doors. I hope you're not implying you're worried something will happen to you.”
Janice turned her body away, a subtle motion. “My brother, my son. It happens in threes.”
“I had nothing to do with Hector's death, or Frank's.”
Her lips curled so high that the ruby lipstick reminded me of a snarling animal. “I'll take your advice and lock my doors, just the same.” She left him, migrating into the safety of another circle of people who welcomed her.
The swell of emotion in me was hard to handle. That was Hecko's mom. Frank's sister. This woman was related to the man I'd watched slice up my loved ones with an X-Acto blade. A man I'd wanted gone and had been lucky enough to witness dying on a sunny day in the park.
I should have hated her for the connection, but all I felt was sympathy. Loss was my old friend. Her son was dead, she wasn't to blame for my past.
Lars was.
Glaring at the spot between his shoulders, I imagined pulling the trigger of the Ruger. It'd be easy to do it here. He wasn't looking, just standing still and making himself the perfect target.
But every time I visualized whipping out the gun, I thought of the photo of Hecko in the foyer. How awful it'd be—how cold—to murder someone here while Hecko's family was trying to celebrate his memory.
Gritting my molars, I turned on my heel and left the room. Lars had to exit eventually. I had the perfect view to stake out his car, he couldn't escape. That was what I'd have to console myself with.
I was close, so fucking close. Patience was a virtue, wasn't it?
Stretching out in the driver's seat, I put my purse in my lap. It felt better to know the gun was in reach.
He didn't spend long inside, but it felt like forever. The thick man stepped across the grass, then down the curb until he reached his car. My heart had taken position in my mouth, forcing me to breathe heavier.
I didn't have an exact plan, it was a straightforward urge that made me turn on the engine. That feeling guided me down the street, following as far back as I could from Lars while still tracking him. Wherever he was going, I intended to stay on his ass.
Not appearing suspicious was easy to do while we were on the main roads, clumps of cars camouflaged mine. It was when Lars got on the interstate, then pulled off an exit onto a quiet, emptier stretched of road that it became risky.
Taking a chance, I slowed down and flicked off my lights. In the dark, tree-lined lane, I was a shadow.
He didn't speed up or change his pattern.
Grinning in excitement, I listened to how my blood sang. This was going to happen. I was really doing this.
He took a corner, his car escaping behind a thick strand of brush and branches. We were in the middle of no where, I didn't know if it was east or north or what. I was hyper focused on Lars, not the directions.