Page 120 of Statler

It was the exact venue where Statler could hide his truck and walk quietly in.

* * *

The house was dark.

Eliza had expected nothing different.

Her father, down deep, was a coward who let others do his dirty work, and by this time—not having heard that Jeremy had “taken care of her”—he would probably be assuming that Eliza would come crying to him.

He would erroneously figure she’d be running scared; ready to cut some kind of a deal with him that would keep her safe.

What he absolutely wasn’t expecting, was that she’d arrive armed, ready to see justice done.

With a questionable reception in mind, Eliza drove right up to the front entrance and parked her car. But before she got out, she tucked her gun into the pocket of her coat where it nestled comfortingly in the palm of her hand which would remain there, no matter what.

She wasn’t going to reveal her less than altruistic intentions toward William before he gave her some answers.

Without knocking, she entered the unlit front foyer and immediately sensed her father’s presence.

“Too chicken-shit to greet me with the lights on?” she sneered into the shadows.

“Watch your mouth.” William’s nasty voice came from a spot ten feet to her left, and as she turned to face his position, he turned on a table-lamp.

As she’d expected, he’d been waiting for her.

But she hadn’t expected him to be armed.

Eliza stared down at his gun. “Really?”

She scoffed at the Desert Eagle that rested in his lap; big, gold, flashy, and gaudy; just as William liked things. It was also powerful to the point of ridiculousness. Definitely overkill.

Although…if his point were to kill her, that weapon would easily do the job.

Still, Eliza wasn’t afraid.

How long had it been since William had handled a gun?

She’d never seen him with one.

Whereas she’d been keeping her skills well-honed for a very long time, perhaps for this very moment.

“Can you even lift that thing?” she taunted.

Fully loaded, she knew it weighed at least five pounds.

“You shouldn’t provoke me, if you know what’s good for you,” he snarled.

“Why?” she goaded. “Because you’ll shoot me like all the other people who have ‘mysteriously’ died around here?” she mused, then put her free hand to her mouth as if just figuring something out. “Oh. But you didn’t shoot them, did you? You’re too gutless to do that kind of dirty work yourself. Naturally you have Jeremy or one of your other ass-kissers take care of those distasteful things for you.”

Eliza narrowed her eyes. “Tell, me, Father dear,” she intoned sarcastically. “Who was it that pulled the trigger on Holden?”

He didn’t flinch, the prick.

“That would have been Jeremy,” he answered dismissively. “Holden wasn’t worth my time.”

“And all the others?” Eliza questioned. “How many have there been to date? Five?”

He laughed evilly and shrugged. “Seven? Nine? Who keeps count, and who cares, really.”