Kite's wide-eyed stare said I wasn't alone.
“There were two of them,” she said. “Frank Montego, Frankie the Razor. I know who he is, now. Back then, he was a little bigger—entirely terrifying. He had on these gloves that reminded me of the kind limo drivers wear. One hand was in his pocket, the other grabbed Cece by the hair.”
Marina was starting to shiver. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her delicate nose. “You can take a break if you—” I started to say.
“No.” Her chin lifted, eyes on me from under the fringe of her lashes. The determination in those shiny surfaces quieted me. It wasn't sweat on her skin, it had been a tear; she wiped it away vigorously. “Let me finish.”
She didn't need my permission, I just leaned backwards in my seat.
Taking a deep breath, she crushed her hands together. “The other man, he was taller. Thick, wide shoulders. He had these sickly green eyes, and giant farmer's hands. When he grinned, I saw he was missing a front tooth. He strolled in, shut the door, and pointed this stubby, double barreled gun at my dad.”
My brain was rustling the description together. I didn't know any men like that, not specifically. The gun was clearly a sawed-off shotgun. He never used it, though. The article didn't say a thing about bullet wounds. It was just to threaten them into silence.
Marina was rocking gently. “He tied my dad's wrists up with electric tape. Then they tied up my mom and sister. Frank didn't say much, but the other man... he kept telling my dad how stupid he was.” A flame of anger tickled her throat. “The asshole said this was his fault. If he'd paid them, they wouldn't need to make an example out of him. He said you obeyed, or you were killed. That was life. Then...”
Suddenly she stopped, looking me dead in the face.
Quickly, I asked, “What is it?”
“I don't want to tell you the details. Is that enough, can you get by on my description of him?”
Kite answered first, his voice tight. “Yeah. That's enough.”
Her story had unsettled us both. But unlike Kite, I needed one more thing from Marina. “The man with the gun, the one you want dead. What did he actually use to kill them?”
“A hatchet.” She reached for her drink, then stopped halfway, like she'd forgotten she wanted it. “Frankie cut them up with an X-Acto blade, but it was the gap-toothed man who chopped them to bits. Cece, then Mom, and finally... my dad.”
So they did make him watch. Running my fingers over my thighs, I sighed. “Thank you for going through all of that.”
“Don't thank me,” she said coolly. “Just find him. I want to show him how wrong he was.”
“About what?” Kite asked.
“He told my dad obey, or be killed. That was his message to anyone who stood up for themselves. I'm going to make sure he understands my message.” She was challenging us with her glare. Marina had shifted back from wilting flower to raging storm. “You can't murder my family and live happily ever after.”
- Chapter 9 -
Marina
––––––––
Evening rolled in quickly.
The two men had taken a walk after my story. I was grateful, and wondered if they had done it intentionally. I wanted some space, the memory of the event had brought back the claustrophobia and terror.
I'd spent two days in that closet, too petrified to leave. I'd watched the bodies of my family bleed out and rot, never once making a sound.
I remembered thinking, If I speak up, the killers will return.
The neighbors who eventually called the police knew that I was missing from the body count. They found me where I'd been huddled, too weak to stand.
Pacing the large apartment, I told myself that I was alive and I could move and I would move. I would keep breathing until I found the gap-toothed man.
Jacob tapped on the door, cracking it open. He spotted me at the wide window where I'd migrated to. “Kite decided to go take care of some things. Just errands, food for his fridge and such.” Jacob wore his winning smile, and I had to remind myself I was not in a toothpaste commercial. “How about you come up to my place and have a snack?”
Touching my stomach, I nodded. “Thanks. I'm actually pretty hungry.”
My sneakers scuffed over the hallway rug. I observed how quietly Jacob moved, he and Kite were impossibly silent when they wanted to be.
I tried to emulate him, but my steps were still cursed by rubber squeaking. It's so weird, I thought to myself. How fast this went from scary to normal. The time leading up to my confrontation with Kite—and ultimately Jacob as well—had been torture.
Here I was, the day after, happily following one of the hitmen to his home. If I rationalized it, I suppose I felt... optimistic. I was on a path to getting vengeance. These two, they'd taken my money and had started investigating for me.
But I wasn't fooled.