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I want more than anything to turn back the clock. Make it so I didn’t take this job. But then Dwayne would have come in and probably just shot her to save time. She’d be dead and then where would I be?
I’m in too deep now, no matter how much I might want to change the past. Besides, if I was going to go back, I’d be better off going back to before she was dumped in the woods. Change it so her parents didn’t dig up the box or the necklace in the first place.
I can’t change the past. No use wishing otherwise.
Nor can I stay away from her, no matter how much I want to. Fate’s fucked me over with that one. I’ve got to find a way to see her, get the necklace off her, take it back with me to the city. After I’ve dug the box up. I can let her keep it for that long.
I walk fast along the street, scowling at anyone that goes by, wanting someone to look at me the wrong way so I can get into a good old-fashioned fight, and take out my frustration with my fists.
No one dares look my way. It’s like they know what’ll happen if they do.
The Don doesn’t trust me anymore. That’s not a good place to be. I’ve shown my hand too early in kicking the shit out of Dwayne but not killing him. Word’s got back that she’s under my protection. Why do that unless I am sweet on her?
I wish I could have met her under different circumstances but it was never going to happen. I only go places when jobs like this need doing and I draw trouble to me like a magnet draws metal. The longer I stay near her, the worse her life is going to get.
I’m going to get the necklace off her and then never see her again. That way, hopefully, the heat’ll be off her and she can go about her life. If the box the Don wants me to dig up contains what I think it does, she shouldn’t matter anymore. She’ll never need to know what her parents did or why it got them killed.
I’ll take the box back. The Don will finish his deal with Tom Blizzard. I’ll be lauded for my part in it and everything can get back to normal. I’ll forget about her. I’ll move on. Go back to feeling nothing at all, just concentrating on work, on the things I’m good at. Fighting. Intimidating. Killing.
I don’t like this new me, this version that’s got doubts. This version loses control when someone calls her a bitch. I’ve let my emotions get the best of me too many times since I got here. That never happens.
It’s not just that. I’ve got thoughts that go beyond tomorrow for the first time. I look at her and I picture a future, for both of us. I’ve never done that before. I get freaky with a woman. I move on. I don’t picture this shit, this continuing relationship of dominance and submission.
I can’t help myself. I imagine her crawling around on all fours because I’ve told her she’s misbehaved and can’t walk again until I allow it. I see her ass swaying as she moves off. I see a plug in her ass and my cock in her pussy, making her scream with delight before she begs me to give her permission to come.
I know life isn’t like that. No one gets a happy ending. Not a real one. Even the Don’s going to get whacked someday. No one gets to retire from this life. No one gets to walk away. Not me, not Dwayne, not the Don, no one.
I cram all that stuff down into the ‘think about it later’ part of my brain as I do with every murder. Like I did after she got left in the woods. Lock it away and forget about it.
What matters now is looking through the file to work out where the box got reburied. The Don already knows, I’m guessing. Wants me to get it in case the Feds are watching the site, in case Blizzard’s done a deal with the law behind his back. I get arrested. He gets plausible deniability. I’ll have to scout the location well when I get there, and make sure no one’s watching.
I’ll watch my back while I get the box. Then I’ll get back to Chicago and put this whole sorry mess behind me. Won’t ever think of Chloe Bennett again.
11
CHLOE
* * *
I’m looking at the photo I took from the sheriff’s station. It feels like I stole it even though I now know it belonged to me all along.
The photo is on my kitchen table and I’m staring at it, unable to look away. Spock is circling my ankles but I barely notice.
The file under Enzo’s arm was my file. No other explanation for this photo falling out of it. Why would he take it? What’s any of this got to do with him?
When I got home, I took his business card out of my pocket. The photo came out with it. It’s been taken from a distance like someone was hiding when they took it.
There are leaves in the foreground and a couple with their daughter looking at a hole in the ground. Behind them is a lake with trees on the far side. I turn the photo over. Someone’s written on the back. Chippewa Falls. Whatever that means.
I can date the photo. Twenty years old. I can do that because I know who’s in the photo. The man is familiar and so’s the woman. It’s what’s around the woman’s neck that tells me everything I need to know.
She’s wearing the necklace I’ve got on right now. The necklace Andrew gave me. He must have stolen it from his father, not knowing where it had come from. No doubt he wanted to impress me with the value of it, probably never occurred to him that I’d find out where it really came from.
The woman’s holding the necklace I’m wearing. That makes her my mother. Even without the necklace, there’s no mistaking it. Those clear hazel eyes, just like mine.
There’s no doubt about it. The little girl is wearing the clothes I was found in, though they’re in better shape in the picture. This is a photo of me with my parents. The first time I’ve ever seen them.
The man is tall, thin, looking haunted. He’s got a spade in his hand and is in the process of filling in a hole in the dirt. He’s got a camo jacket on like he was a hunter. Dark pants, black boots.
