My pace slows and I decide to hang back, keep my distance.
She waits for a car to pass before she pads barefoot across the street. “I’m sorry, Stone. I’m sorry. Don’t be angry, it’s not my fault.”
The driver’s-side door swings open and the man called Stone steps out. He appears shockingly short, not much taller than the car. But his upper body is stocky, like he never skips a day at the gym.
“Don’t give me that shit, Kim. You’re late every damn time. Get your ass over here.”
She approaches the car and hesitates before closing the last four feet. She reaches into the top of her shirt and pulls out a wad of bills from her bra. “Here’s the money. I made extra. He wanted extra. That’s why I’m late. Isn’t that great?”
The desperation in her trembling voice triggers anxiety and anger within me. I sense how this will end.
In one swift move, he steps forward and snatches her by the front of her shirt. “No, it’s not fucking great. You don’t get to make those decisions. I do.”
My teeth hurt from clenching so hard, but I know I can’t make an irrational move that would surely end badly for her. I have to be patient, so I hang back in the shadows, away from the light of the streetlamps. I want to help this woman. I came out looking for something like this. Now that it’s staring me in the face, I have no idea how to handle it.
Think. Be smarter.
The sound of his palm smacking her across the face snaps me out of it. I have to do something. Like a runner waiting for the start gun to go off, I clench my fists and crouch low, reaching for my knife. My palms sweat, so I make sure to grip it tightly while waiting for the right moment. I look up and down the street. No one is around. Thin clouds drift over the half moon. A baby cries in the distance. The woman sobs quietly as the man named Stone shoves her into the car through the driver’s-side door.
With his back to me, I charge into a full sprint. I’m light on my feet, but my heart thunders in time with every step I take. Flashes of Vance and Jake rush forward, blinding me to any remaining rational thought. Seconds before I’m within arm’s reach, I see Kim just over his shoulder as she scoots into the passenger seat and looks up. Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an O shape as I lunge forward. Startled by her expression, he spins on his heel. But my blade slips into his flank before he makes it around.
He grunts. Hot liquid spills over my fist. A wave of nausea washes over me. What have I done? As his legs buckle beneath him, he falls to one knee. He twists his head up and stares into my face with pain and shock and confusion. Kim screams out in a high-pitched frenzy.
Look at her. Look at him. What have I done? The weight of it all comes crashing over me.
His brows furrow, and sweat slicks over his face in the moonlight. Anger replaces confusion and he lashes out with his left hand to grab my legs. I leap back and he misses, falling forward with another grunt of pain. The knife sticks out of his left kidney area ominously. I’ve made a grave mistake. I step forward and yank the knife from his body. He yells and flings his arm to the side, trying to hit me. I take three shaky steps back before I turn and run as fast as my legs will take me.
***
What have I done? What have I done? Breathe in. Breathe out. Oh fuck!
Scrubbing blood from my hands in the bathroom sink, I feel like I might pass out. My lips and hands buzz and I realize I’m hyperventilating. Breathe. Oh fuck! Have I lost my mind? What was I thinking? I just stabbed a man. He saw my face. He’s going to find me and kill me. If I’m not arrested and thrown into jail for attempted murder first.
I look up at the woman staring back at me. Her lips are white. Her jaw trembles with fear. I have lost my mind. I rip the hat off my head and run a wet hand through my short hair. What am I going to do? I turn off the water and strip out of my clothes. Shower. Then get rid of the knife. My hands shake violently as I scrub from head to toe, making sure to take at least the first layer of skin off.
The scalding hot water does very little to heat my frigid bones. I can’t stop shaking. Hop out of the shower. Dry off with a few rigid strokes from head to toe. I’m dizzy. I need to lie down. I wrap the towel around my body and cinch it tight against my breasts before padding down the hall to the bedroom. I crawl onto the bed and lie on my back to stare at the ceiling. Hours pass. My mind devours itself with guilt and shame and fear. Then it slowly begins to settle. I’ve crossed a line. My breathing slows with the acceptance of the crime I’ve just committed.
A calm knowing oozes in and pushes out the fear. I know what must be done.
As the first light of day creeps into the horizon of the dark sky, I quietly slip into jeans and a sweatshirt, then pull on a different pair of shoes. In the bathroom I get on my hands and knees and dig through a box under the bathroom sink. I’m positive I still have supplies from back when my mom’s diabetes had been out of control and I’d had to administer her shots. I bump my head on the counter and swear under my breath before finally pulling the box out. Dust covers a few medical supplies that I’ve collected over the years for various reasons. Gauze, tape, a wrist splint, rubbing alcohol, syringes. And six remaining vials of insulin. Not sure why I’ve kept them all these years. I check the dates. They are not only expired, but they require refrigeration. But safety isn’t my goal here. I just need them to carry their potency. No longer fearful or ashamed, my hand is steady as I draw up every drop.
I leave the apartment and drive to the nearest hospital. On the way, I make a call to the operator.
“St. Francis Hospital admissions, how can I help you?”
“Yes, this is Officer Sharon Gerald with the Everett Police Department. We had a report come in about a stabbing down on West Boulevard Drive late last night. I’m trying to locate the victim so we can confirm the claim and ask him questions in regards to the matter. Do you mind telling me if you had a man who fits that description come into the emergency room? I’m told his first name is Stone, if that helps.”
“No problem at all, Officer. Give me just one moment and I’ll look through our database of recent admissions.”
A pause fills the line. I hold my breath.
“Let’s see here, it looks like we did have a stabbing victim come in last night, but I have him under a different name. He’s no longer in the ER. He was transferred to the fourth floor.”
“May I have his name?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I can’t give it to you over the phone. I’ll have to see your identification first before I can give you any further information. Patient privacy and all that.”
“Sure. I understand. I’ll be in within the next half hour.” I hang up and toss the phone to the console between the front seats. Ten minutes later, I wander into the quiet hallways of the hospital, hoping not to be noticed by staff or security. At five in the morning, only the sparse night crew loiters in their nursing stations, tired and waiting patiently for their shift to end. The weight of what I’m about to do stifles every breath, every step I take. Stop now. Don’t do it. Turn around and go home. But I can’t.
When I find his room on the fourth floor, he lies in the bed, asleep and alone. No one sits at his bedside. I imagine a man like this has no real friends. I steal a quick glance left then right before slowly pushing the heavy door open and slipping into the room. An oxygen cannula sits under his nose. Monitors at his bedside record every heartbeat and breath taken. I creep to his bed and look down at this man. He seems less menacing now, his lids soft and closed. His mouth settled into a flat line rather than aggression. I hold my breath and my heart races faster.
I can’t do this. I’m not a murderer. I’m not violent at all. I don’t even know who I am anymore.
His eyes flutter open and he stares at me with wide, knowing eyes, as if he’d been expecting me. My muscles spasm, then freeze. We hold gazes, sealed in this one fateful moment of indecision.
The corners of his mouth slowly turn upward, revealing one gold incisor tooth among a mouthful of surprisingly white teet
h. “I know you. I’ve seen you around the neighborhood. I know where you live.”
I shake my head. “No.” My words come out in a breathless whisper.
His brows raise. “Oh, yes I do. I know most things about my neighborhoods. I make it my business to know. You think I’m stupid?”
I shake my head again. “No.”
He laughs, then winces in pain. “Dammit.”
I think of turning and running out of the room, but then what? I’m stuck. I have no idea what I should do.
He squints, glowering through his thick lashes. “I’m glad you came. I thought you might. What did you think you would do once you got here? Take another stab at me? You gonna kill me?”
My lips part but I remain silent. Only my breathing fills the gap of silence in the room.
He chuckles. Shivers tingle up my spine.
“Of course you won’t. It’s not in you. You’re trying to be someone you’re not. I’ve seen it a hundred times. But you done messed with the wrong person and got in over your head. Just wait until I get out of here, bitch. I’m going to kill you, slowly and painfully. But first, I’m going to let you watch me kill the girl you were trying to protect. How’s that for irony?”
A metallic taste fills my mouth and I realize I’ve been biting my cheeks. Rage fills every cell. Yet, I feel calm. A decision has been made. I step forward, reach out, and grab his IV tubing. He tries to sit up, but grunts in pain. He flails his arms, but with a few deft movements, I pull the needle out of my pocket, uncap it, and quickly inject the deadly dose of insulin into the line.
His eyes widen. “What the fuck did you do?”
I lean over him and cover his mouth with both of my hands, one knee propped on the edge of the bed. He moans and squirms but he is weak from the loss of blood, so I press harder against his mouth, leaning in with all of my weight, and look into his eyes as his body starts to shake and seizure, the medicine hitting his system like snake venom. I meet his gaze with peace. “I did what had to be done,” I whisper as his lids flutter and his eyes roll back.
When it’s over, I step back. “Good night.” I turn and walk out the door, pulling my hood over my head as I sneak out. No one notices as an insignificant woman leaves the building while an evil man lies in bed and dies from an insulin overdose.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
His leg sweeps out, but I see the move from the corner of my eye. I leap sideways to avoid the impact, then leap back and grab him from behind as he finishes his spin. At the peak of my jump, I wrap my right bicep around his neck and lock my left hand around to secure the grip, then squeeze.
Next thing I know, I’m on my back with a thud. Air whooshes from my lungs in a violent exhale. I release my grip and gasp for air. The weight of his body shifts as he grunts and rolls away.
“That was actually really good up until the end there, Tess. Next time, though, keep your grip, even if you end up on your back.”
Holding my chest and catching my breath, I offer Tobin a sideways glare. “I’ll be sure to remember that next time.”
One side of his mouth turns up in a sideways grin. “Don’t be a poor sport. You know I’m right. If you had just held on, you would have had the upper hand. You had me in a vise grip, and if you had pushed through, I would have passed out already.”
I roll my eyes dramatically then sit up and pop up to my feet. “Then let’s do it again.”
He laughs. “That a girl.” He pauses, his head cocked to the side, as if sizing me up. “Something’s changed in you lately. And I’m not just talking about your hair, which I like, by the way. It’s…it looks pretty on you. But it’s more than that, you seem…better.”
That takes me off guard, so I straighten my back and self-consciously run a hand through my hair. “Yeah, well, compared to what?” When he doesn’t answer, I shrug. “I guess I feel a bit better lately.”
“I can see it in the way you move. You’re more confident. More aggressive. That shy timidity seems to have faded away. I only see it here and there for a moment and then it’s gone.”
I nod and ponder his statement. “Good.”
“Do you think it’s our lessons?”
I fight the urge to laugh out loud. “Yeah, that’s it.” If he only knew.
He frowns, but I find his boyish pout cuter than I’d like.
“Well, what is it then? Come on, tell me your secret.”
The word secret punches me in the stomach. The way that pimp lay in his hospital bed dying a karmic death enters my mind. It takes everything I have to keep my facial expression from revealing my sudden change of mood.
His voice deepens and softens. “You’re a mystery to me.”
My body reacts to the slight lilt of seduction in his tone. I don’t want to feel like this toward Tobin. Or anyone, for that matter. Ignoring his statement, I bend at the knees and prepare for another round of sparring. “Come on, let’s go again.”
We are silent for the remainder of my lesson, the tension building between us, threatening to take our friendship to uncharted territory. Later, washed up and famished, I head out the back door of the gym.
“Hold on, wait for me.”
With my right foot jammed in the door, I turn to see Tobin jogging toward me, his gym bag bouncing lightly over his shoulder.
He slows to a walk as he nears. “I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat down the street. I’m starving.”
My stomach growls at the mere mention of food. “Food?”
“Yeah, food, like something to eat.”
I giggle nervously. “I don’t know. I was just going to head home.”
“Oh, come on, it’s just some food. You’re hungry. I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat. I promise I won’t bite. There’s nothing to be scared of with me.”
“I’m not scared.”
He stares me down and waits for my next move. Daring me to prove him wrong.
I shrug. “Okay, fine. Just something quick.”
He breaks into a huge grin, showing that one small dimple on the left cheek, and I find myself unable to keep from smiling back. I acquiesce and we walk side by side in silence to a small pub down the street that specializes in local microbrews and fish-and-chips.
Once we’re settled, he grabs one of the menus off the table and flips through.
I eye him carefully over the top of mine. “So, what’s this really about? I can tell you want to talk about something. You didn’t just want to take me out for a quick bite to eat.” It still surprises me that I can be this forthright now. A few months ago I would have died of humiliation just from the thought of being so bold.
He sighs and lays the menu flat. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I did want to take you out. In fact I’d prefer to take you somewhere nicer and make more of a deal of it, but I know you’re not ready for that yet.”
I blink and keep a straight face, reaching for one of the iced waters on the table.
“Did you hear about the stabbing in your neighborhood the other night?”
Slowly, I sip from the glass, cool water wets my suddenly dry mouth. I make sure to keep eye contact. I set the glass down and wipe condensation from the tips of my fingers onto the napkin to my right side. Time slows down. “I heard some of my neighbors mumbling about it this morning but I didn’t catch the details.”
The waiter approaches. “Are you ready to order? Can I start you off with something other than water to drink?”
“I’ll have an iced tea and a Caesar salad.” I sit back against the booth and wait for Tobin to give his order.
When the waiter leaves, he props his elbows on the table and leans forward a bit, showing me that I have his full attention. “So back to what we were discussing, no one mentioned seeing the guy who did it? No one witnessed the incident?”
“Why do you automatically assume it was a man?”
It’s his turn to look surprised. His left eye squints as he processes the question. “Well, other than th
e prostitute who took him to the hospital, no one saw the crime, as far as I’ve heard, and the man who was stabbed wouldn’t say who did it. She’s not talking either. I guess I just assumed it was a man, based on experience with other crimes such as this. Now he’s dead, so we won’t be able to get further details from him, obviously.”
“He died, huh?”
“Yeah. At the hospital. Kind of odd that neither he nor the woman would say anything about who attacked him. I can’t decide if it’s because he was protecting someone or just biding his time until he could seek revenge on his own. It’s fairly typical for people associated with that arena of crime to think like that. You know, keep the cops out of it no matter what. Kind of a gang mentality. We’re the enemy and they’ll take care of business the way they see fit.” He leans back in the booth and crosses his arms over his chest. I can’t help but notice the way his t-shirt fits snug over his broad shoulders and toned biceps. Why am I thinking of this as we discuss the very crime I committed?
“So, what all did you hear from your neighbors then?”
“Are you asking me as a cop or as a civilian?”
He cocks his head to the side. “Both. I’m not on the case, but a few of my fellow officers are and we need more information on who could have been the perp. But also, it was close to where you live and I’m worried about you. I don’t want you walking around at night alone until we catch this guy.”
He’s worried about me. I’m not sure how to feel about that. “Well, like I said before, I didn’t hear details. I didn’t want to. However, one of the women in the building did mention that the victim was a pimp and a drug dealer that’s been wreaking havoc around here for quite some time. Sounded like a pretty nasty individual to me, so maybe your perp did everyone a favor.”
“I can’t argue that, but a crime’s a crime, and it’s our job to get to the bottom of these things. Murder is murder, no matter which way you dice it.”
Murder. I swallow around the lump in my throat and nod, afraid to respond.