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The sound of breaking news on the TV pulls my attention from her swaying ass. The screen shows a somber looking anchor sitting behind a desk as he speaks into the camera.
“NYPD was called this morning to the Bronx River Forest trails after a jogger came upon a disturbing scene. Our crew is on the scene now. Lynn, what can you tell us about this?”
The scene changes to a brunette woman, who stands in the middle of a trail, yellow police tape stretching from tree to tree behind her, and detectives comb the area in the morning sun.
“Thank you, Luis. It was early this morning, around seven o’clock, when the call came in from a distraught jogger. The man, who wishes not to be identified, says it’s the same trail he always jogs; only today was anything but ordinary.
“About twenty minutes into his jog, he rounded this bend here and came across what looked to be a black trash bag with human remains inside. He immediately called 911 and reported the horrifying discovery.”
Beside the report’s head, an image of my mother’s driver’s license picture comes up, and my heart sinks as though it’s weighted with cement. Blood rushes through my ears, pounding like waves of an angry sea, but nothing can stop me from hearing every word on the TV.
“CSI was on the scene only minutes after the report was made, and our source within the NYPD tells us the body was most likely brought here. Although they weren’t able to give us more details about the victim, they were able to confirm the identity. The medical examiner said the cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head and strangulation.
“The M.E on the case says there were fractures to the hyoid bone in the neck and skull. Detectives are reluctant to release the identity of the victim as they try to reach relatives, but they are asking for help from the public. If you know this woman, please call the number at the bottom of the screen. We will update this story as more details are confirmed. Back to you in the studio.”
The scene returns to the seated anchors in the studio, and the topic changes to some kind of pet adoption being held in Central Park, but my mind is a complete wreckage. My mother’s body, her bones, thrown in a fucking park like yesterday’s garbage. I know this is my father’s doing. He’s sending me a message with this sacrilegious act, desecrating my mother as though cruelly murdering her wasn’t enough.
That sick, sadistic piece of shit callously murdered his wife in cold-blood after years of torment and abuse, then uses her remains as a heinous act against me. My mother. The woman who birthed me, loved me, protected me until she breathed her last. My mother with the sad eyes and forced smile who kissed my forehead every night and sang me songs when I had nightmares…is lying in dried and brittle pieces in a park like a long forgotten animal.
Her voice, the soft airy sound that faded long ago, whispers through my mind like a lullaby, and my body shudders with pain. I won’t let this go. I’m done playing Alan’s twisted games.
My breaths are heavy and fast, my heart pounds like the scraping hoof of an angry bull as I turn toward Vincenzo and Juny.
“Do not leave Lexi’s side. If anything happens to her while I’m gone, one of you will watch as I kill the other. Do you understand me?”
“Understood.” They answer in sync.
I cross the room and pull my leather jacket off the hook before searching for my keys, but Lexi’s fingers around my bicep halts my movements.
“Gio,” Her voice breaks, but she swallows back her tears, “what are you going to do?”
I’m grateful she doesn’t offer up the cliche words of condolences, an apology that makes the heart broken comfort the other person. Never made sense to me.
I cup her face, weighing the pros and cons of lying to her to keep her from worrying, but I’m not stupid enough to think she’d believe me right now. Not when I can feel the rage showing in my eyes.
“I’m going to do exactly what you think. I’m going to call this motherfucker out, and when he shows his face, I’m going to make him eat a full clip.”
I kiss her forehead then her lips before turning and snatching my keys from the bowl. I hear Luce behind me, telling Lexi something softly before following me out of the door.
We don’t speak as we exit the building, just total understanding that what we’ve just seen on the news means we’re riding dirty today with nothing but blood in our sights. No words or questions are spoken on the drive, not even when we’re pulling up to the docks where we know Alan was hiding. We may not have found him here, but that doesn’t mean he won’t come back.
I reach into my pocket and take out the family ring, watching as the sun dances off the shiny metal before walking on to the planks of wood near the boats. I ignore the seagulls that squawk loudly overhead as I eye each bobbing vessel, taking note of the state of each until my eyes land on the sparkling white one at the end. All other ones are dirty fisherman boats, but this one stands out amongst them. It’s not a yacht like I know Alan is used to, but it’s a much nicer craft than the ones around it, and knowing how pompous my father is, I’m almost certain it’s his.
With Luce behind me, I take out my gun and switch the safety off, pulling myself up and onboard the boat. I move slowly as I gaze around. I peek inside the small cabin and make sure it’s clear before moving onto the cockpit as Luce moves onto the hatch and looks over the side as though Alan could be hiding in the frigid waters. To be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t put it past him.
At the steering wheel, I look through the small pockets around the seats and find a map with areas of the city circled. I look closer, trying to read the tiny ass words printed on the map and see that most, if not all, the areas are locations where Lexi has been. The flower shop, the hotel, the apartment, Luce’s mother’s house….this is most certainly Alan’s boat. I holster my gun and pull my knife free from my ankle holster, putting the ring on the tip of the blade before grabbing the map and stabbing both onto the headrest of the seat, the knife on Central Park.
I whistle at Luce, and disembark from the boat.
My cowardly father has crossed a line he won’t survive, and I’m going to make sure he feels every second of the agony I will give to him, even if it costs me my own life. I’ll dig two graves for us so long as he goes down with me.
Luce holsters his gun and lights a cigarette. In an exhale, he says the only words I wanna hear.
“That motherfucker is going to meet his maker, and he’ll arrive as a burnt corpse.”
