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She looks at me coldly. “By the end? Everything. Traynor probably went a bit overboard with his fingers.” She grimaces at the memory. “But he was pretty convincing that he hadn’t told his superiors yet.”
“And no one else has come to Roseland asking after him,” I snap at her. “So there is no one else.”
“George?”
“He’s lying,” Griggs snarls. “If he didn’t say anything, that big fucker did.”
Now. Now. Now. I brace myself for the pain and am about to jerk my arms up to open the knife when Christie says, “Maybe we need to go about this a different way. Get the old man.” She stands and pushes her chair back
Abe starts to tremble. His hand slips and he drops the knife, the blade closing on the soft flesh between my fingers, cutting through and closing. It falls to the floor. I make a grab for it and close my hand around it just as Griggs grabs Abe by the collar and pulls him up. Abe cries out at the movement, the pain in his arm no doubt excruciating.
“You leave him alone,” I cry, my voice cracking. “Don’t you touch him!”
“Then tell us what we want to know.”
“I told you! There’s no one else!”
Griggs rips off Abe’s gag and drops him on the ground on his stomach in front of me, his hands bound behind his back. Abe grunts at the impact and turns his cheek so he’s facing me. There’s a moment, as we watch each other, when a myriad of emotions flicker across his face. There is fear and anger. Pain and trepidation. But then they are all swept away as his eyes harden and his jaw sets. The Abe I see now is the Abe I know. The strong one, the one who has stood by my side and by my father’s before me. He’s….
No.
“Leave him alone!”
Christie hands Griggs my Colt. He sets down his rifle on the chair and pulls out the clip before pushing it back home. He then drops to his knees and presses the barrel against Abe’s left temple.
The knife. I have to open the knife. The back of my hands are pressed together. I grip the knife between two fingers on my left hand and attempt to grab the blade by pinching it with the knuckles on my right hand.
“Who else?” Christie demands.
“No one,” I grind out, the knife slipping again.
Griggs digs the gun into the side of Abe’s head. “Who did you talk to?” he snaps.
“There’s no one else!” I shout, holding the knife steady again.
“Look away,” Abe says, his voice calm. “Look away, Benji.”
“You hush,” I say hoarsely. “Please. Please just let him go. There’s no one else. I swear. I would tell you if there was. I swear.” My knuckles catch the blade, and I pull. It doesn’t open.
“You’re lying,” Christie says, taking a step back. “You want to watch him die in front of you?”
“Benji,” Abe says. “Look away.”
“Please. Oh, God, please. Please believe me. I wouldn’t lie. I can’t lie. Christie, you know me. Please. You don’t want to do this. I’ll do anything you want.” I pull on the knife again, and it opens.
“Who else knows?” Griggs snarls. “The ATF? The DEA? Your mom? Nina? Mary?”
Christie’s eyes grow dark at the mention of her sisters, but she doesn’t stop him.
“No,” I croak. “How could I tell them what I don’t know? Take me instead. Please.”
“Benji,” Abe says softly. “Listen to me.”
I look at him as my eyes start to burn.
“They won’t believe you, no matter what you say,” he says steadily. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. They’re too far gone to pull back now.”
Michael! God! You fuckers! Help me!
