“Then you’ll have it.”
Someone cleared their throat. My neck twisted to find our new receptionist, Dana, standing in the doorway, holding up a hot pink sticky note in her hand. There were bags under her eyes, and her long, blond hair was twisted up into a bun at the top of her head. “Dr. Morris is here,” she announced, looking at Hayes and Grayson. “You want me to show him the holding room?”
“I’ll do it, Dana,” Hayes said. “Thank you.”
She nodded. Dana was just a few years older than Angel. She was married to an EMS paramedic and for some reason felt theneed to work whenever we did, despite her hours being from nine to five.
“Go home, Dana,” Gray called as she left the room. “Take tomorrow off!”
“Sure thing, Boss.”
I grabbed Angel’s hand. “You ready?” As I led her down the hall, I heard Grayson tell Dominic to call Michael and loop him in. Just outside of Herman’s holding room, we saw Dr. Morris go into Tucker’s room. I stared through the small viewing window. Tucker was passed out and handcuffed to the small cot with an IV in his arm. Jake’s handiwork. Dr. Morris prepped his tray, unfazed by Tucker’s unconscious state.
“Ash?”
“Right here, Starlight,” I murmured, looking down at her. “I’ll always be right here.”
Then I let her into Herman’s room. He was handcuffed to the wall, sitting on the bed and panting like a wild animal.
“Let me out of here!” he barked at me, his eyes red and filled with fear.
I said nothing and stepped to the side. At the sight of Angel, he shut his mouth and looked her up and down. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I want to talk about Felix,” she said calmly, folding her hands in front of her.
Keeping my eyes on him, I backed up to the wall and folded my arms over my chest. “Try anything, and I’ll rip your intestines out and feed them to you.”
“Fuck you,” he spat, chest heaving. He yanked on the cuffs, thrashing and growling. “I want to talk to my lawyer! I have rights!”
“Not in here, you don’t,” I returned, keeping my voice level. My blood was pumping and I’d love nothing more than to smashthis fucker’s head into a wall for hurting Angel. “Answer her fucking questions.”
“I don’t have to answer shit! Where the fuck is Rom?”
“Rom is fictional,” Angel said. “He doesn’t exist. Just like the forty-million-dollar reward.”
He snarled, baring his teeth. “I didn’t waste three years of my life for this.”
“No,” she muttered, lifting her chin. “You wasted your entire life doing dirty work for others, ruining lives without any consequence.” She looked around the room. “This is your karma.”
“I don’t believe in that shit, bitch.”
In a flash, I was off the wall, and my fist connected with his jaw. He fell back against the concrete wall, howling in pain. “Call her that again,” I dared. “Please do so. I may not be able to rip Tucker apart right now, but Jake got everything he needed from you. You hold no value to me.”
“Ash,” Angel protested.
I twisted my neck, looking at her over my shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted. Her composure was gone. “Please.”
Jaw tight, I stepped back. “Say what you need to say. I don’t like you being in here with this filth,” I growled.
She nodded and looked at Herman. “You’re a vile human being.” Whether it was her words or the gentle delivery that caused him to flinch, she’d gotten past his rage. “Felix was a good human being. He was wholesome, driven, and an artist. He craved finding the good in people, doing so through their love of food. He was strict, yes, but only because he knew you and I and everyone else in Margie’s kitchen had potential. He saw it in you. He begged you to be something more than what you were too afraid to be. The truth is out, and though you don’t seem to have a heart, I will still take great pleasure in telling you this: Youwill not be missed. No one of value will remember your name. Your bloodline has ended with you. You will not be talked about one random Sunday afternoon or during the dinner rush at the restaurant. No one is going to cry over the loss of you in the deep freeze.” A single tear landed on her cheek, but she didn’t move to wipe it away.
“Felix Kolby will be remembered. Not only will his work as a chef, his recipes, be carried out through Margie and me, but we will bring him up on Sunday afternoons. We will cry over him in the deep freeze. We will stand in the parking lot after our shifts, staring up at the moon, listening to the sea, and reminiscing about how good of a man he was. He will be missed. You will be forgotten.”
With that, she turned, opened the door, and left.
Slowly, I pushed off the wall and shut the door.
Herman flinched, his throat working, but he didn’t meet my eyes. He was staring straight through me as if Angel was still in the room. “I mean something,” he whispered.
