Eulogy

by Rachel Van Dyken

  I tried not to think about it.

  Or about the way his plump lips parted on a gasp when I kept rubbing the blood away.

  I went for another swipe when he grabbed my wrist and whispered in a rough voice, “Enough.”

  I nodded, quickly stepped back, and turned around, unsure why my stomach still felt as if it was at my knees, and why my fingers buzzed with awareness of his skin.

  I was almost completely out of the kitchen when he called out, “Why?”

  “Why what?” I didn’t turn, just waited for his response as I stared down at the hardwood floor and tried to breathe normally.

  “Why help? Why clean up the blood?”

  Emotion built up inside my chest until it hurt to breathe and I had no idea why, no idea why the intensity in the room had shifted, why I suddenly felt dizzy, or why his question felt heavy with deeper meaning. I looked over my shoulder and answered honestly. “When you’re the one who causes the pain, you do everything in your power to make it better.”

  His eyes closed briefly before he clenched his jaw. “Most people aren’t like that.”

  I smiled sadly. “I’m not most people.”

  “No,” he said in a gruff voice, “you’re not.”

  I couldn’t read his expression.

  I took it as a compliment, even if his intent was to insult me, because I didn’t want to allow his words to penetrate, to hurt. Something told me that if I let those words in, the man would follow.

  And the last thing I needed in my life was an obsession with a guy who killed people for a living — and offered to do the same to me.

  I gave him a curt nod and walked back down the hall toward the tiny jail cell, aka office, and shut the door quietly behind me, only leaning against it when I was able to catch my breath and analyze why the heck I was freaking out, and why my heart still felt both tight and fluttery in my chest.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Sometimes, all the monster needs is to be awakened. And then… fed.”

  — Ex-FBI Agent P

  Chase

  My pulse throbbed right along with my head. I tried not to think too much of it, tried to grasp the anger at having Luciana attack me with a vase.

  Instead, it was like the old Chase was pushing through in a weak attempt, because my lips twitched.

  I didn’t laugh.

  But something inside of me built, as if I wanted to.

  As if I wanted to run after her and piss her off more, scare her, just to get a reaction that would make that feeling come back, the warmth and fullness that spread through my chest when her shaking hands lifted to my temple.

  When she tried to tame the untamable.

  It was stupid as shit.

  And a bad mark in her favor if she thought I was anything but tame.

  But she still tried, despite the bark and bite.

  Despite the fear.

  And my respect for her grew an inch.

  Not a lot.

  But enough to make me realize that maybe, just maybe, there were some good ones left in the world who didn’t deserve to see all the darkness inside.

  I promised myself to try.

  I knew I’d fail.

  But at least I was going to make an effort not to shoot her, so I counted it as progress, and then I took the stairs two at a time and heard her whistling.

  Fucking. Whistling.

  I finally did it.

  I smiled.

  And kept walking.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “I would send them all. I would keep sending them until justice was served, until he broke from the inside out, until they had no choice but to end him, and in return, end themselves.”

  — Ex-FBI Agent P

  Luciana

  Four hours went by.

  Four hours of pure hell as I poured over the family records for the last two months. Right. Months. I was still in 2017 when my stomach started cramping. I adjusted my sitting position as I hovered over the computer and grabbed a protein bar out of my purse.

  When the bar didn’t satisfy me and another pang hit again, I shot up from my chair and checked my phone.

  It was the third.

  Right. On. The. Dot.

  Shit.

  I’d been in such a panic to get here I’d completely forgotten what time of the month it was.

  I checked my watch; it was well past noon.

  I got a lunch break, right?

  Right?

  Where I could speed into town, grab tampons, and speed back without being shot?

  Anxiety washed over me.

  Now I knew why I’d been more sensitive lately. Geez. Not that I wasn’t still petrified, but I needed to stop tearing up in that guy’s presence before he added it to the list of things that made him want to end my life.

  I snatched my purse from the table and ran down the stairs, only stopping at the kitchen to see if Chase was still there.

  He wasn’t.

  Wine was.

  A glass was next to a bottle.

  I hesitated.

  My stomach cramped even more.

  I had no idea where any Tylenol was and had nothing with me, but wine… Wine would calm me down a bit.

  I poured half a glass and chugged it then made my way into the garage.

  The lights flickered on the minute I walked out.

  I chewed my bottom lip and tried not to pass out.

  Seventeen.

  I counted seventeen foreign cars.

  Five motorcycles.

  And a G-Wagon that looked new.

  How much money did this guy have?

  Was that what assassins got paid these days?

  I gulped and kept walking, trying to find the least expensive car just in case. I didn’t have time to look for the one he drove the most; I expected that one to be his favorite and knew the mileage would be proof of that, but I knew if I was gone longer than an hour, he’d think I’d bailed.

  My eyes flickered to the black Benz that was nearest the front of the garage. It didn’t have a speck of dirt on it. I opened the door and sat against the cool leather and started searching for the keys only to realize it was a push-button start.

  “Please let the key-fob already be somewhere in here.” I pushed down the brake and tapped the button. The car roared to life. I tapped the garage door button, and it slowly lifted.

  The screen in the car said Maybach. I wasn’t sure if that meant it was super expensive, and I’d just made a mistake, but I didn’t have time to worry about that.

  Besides, I half expected Chase to be waiting outside, gun pointed.

  Instead, I encountered just empty space.

  I put the car in drive and prayed.

  The car jolted forward, and I was off.

  The gate opened as I approached.

  I stopped, grabbed my phone, and asked Siri the closest grocery store location. Relief washed through me when she announced it was only two miles away.

  Perfect.

  I could be in and out in minutes and grab a few more snacks on top of that.

  I set my phone down, took a hard right, and out of pure fear, gunned the car until I was going around eighty down the back road.

  I gripped the soft leather wheel with both hands and nearly missed the stop sign. The car swerved. I hit the accelerator after I checked both ways and floored it. “Please, please, go faster!”

  The sound of sirens followed my plea.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror as first dread slammed into me, and then complete panic.

  I didn’t even know where his registration was, his insurance. My sweaty palms carefully pulled the car over to the side of the road. I frantically searched the glovebox and came back empty.

  “Shit, shit, shit.” I started hyperventilating as I closed the compartment.

  Tap, tap. The police officer knocked on my window. It took me a few seconds to even find the stupid button to get it down, and when I did, he looked less than pleased.

  “Goin’ kin
da fast.” He ducked his bald head into the car, making me jerk back against the console. He eyed me up and down. His black vest said Police, and it was bulletproof, intimidating, just like his piercing brown eyes. He sniffed the air. “You been drinking?”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to confess I’d had half a glass before jumping into the car because I had cramps and was nervous about living with a potential serial killer. But I kept silent. And shook my head no.

  He eyed me again, sniffed again, then leaned back. “I don’t believe you.”

  I finally found my voice and cleared my throat. “I’m sorry, and I know you’re only doing your job, I’ll admit I was speeding. I just don’t have the longest lunch break.” If any lunch break. “And I wanted to make it back to work in time.” So I don’t get a gun pointed at my head.

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m going to need you to get out of the car, miss.”

  My worst nightmare was coming to life. I would never drink and drive, and I wasn’t the type to ever get pulled over, even when I’d lived in Seattle. My sad little Honda was still in Seattle in storage, just in case.

  Maybe it was because the car I was in was expensive?

  Maybe because it wasn’t mine?

  Or because I was going eighty in a fifty-five.

  Regardless.

  I panicked.

  “We’re just going to do a few…” He licked his lips and stared at my boobs before looking away. “…easy tests.”

  “O-okay.” I tried to keep the tremor from my voice as he fired off instructions.

  “You’re going to count your steps to nine, then pivot, count to nine again, and stop. You must go heel to toe — no space — do you understand?”

  Now he was just being insulting. I clenched my teeth and started counting out as I walked.

  I finished and stared him down, crossing my arms.

  Unbelievable, he still seemed pissed at me!

  “Alright then.” He held out his leg. “You’ll stand like this and count one-one thousand, two-one thousand, until I tell you to stop.”

  I gritted my teeth. Would he want me to chew gum and pat my head at the same time next?

  Just get it over with so you can get to the store and get back.

  I got all the way to sixty-one-one thousand when he finally had me stop and then turned and said something into his walkie talkie.

  I passed. I wasn’t drunk. I knew it. He knew it.

  “May I go now?” I asked in the sweetest voice I could conjure up.

  He laughed and shook his head. “Miss, there is no chance in hell you’re leaving here without getting a ticket. Not only were you speeding, but you smell like wine. Nah, I think I’m gonna take you back to the station for a blood test.”

  I felt my face pale as my body swayed.

  He seemed to enjoy torturing people.

  I normally loved cops. I did. I respected the tough job they had, but this, this wasn’t just a cop doing his job; this was a bored power-trip.

  And a bit of something else.

  “This your car?” He nodded his head to the car.

  “No.” I crossed my arms. “I borrowed it.”

  “Stole it, you mean?”

  “Please don’t put words in my mouth,” I said sternly.

  He made a motion with his fingers for me to turn around. I tried to keep the tears in, the ones of mortification that it was that time of month, and I’d have to ask this douche bag for something once I got to the station, and tears of fear that I was going to be there forever because I had nobody that would bail me out.

  I hung my head just as the metal clasped against one wrist.

  And then a car sped down the road and stopped right in the middle of it.

  It was red.

  A red Maserati.

  Something I’d only ever seen in magazines and on TV.

  Chase stepped out of it and leaned against the side. “Officer Hank.”

  The officer dropped my hands. “Mr. Abandonato, good to see you.”

  “I wish…” Chase’s voice dripped with hatred. “…I could say the same.”

  Hank paused.

  I trembled.

  “Sir?” Hank said to Chase. What the hell? Why did he call Chase sir? “Is there something I can help you with? I just gotta get this one in the car, then I’m all yours.”

  “There is, Hank. There really is. Why don’t you stop what you’re doing first, though, so I have your full attention.”

  Hank dropped my hands and shoved me against the car then snickered. “Yeah well, drunk soccer moms aren’t really important anyway.”

  I rolled my eyes and stared straight at the ground.

  Chase chuckled as if he agreed.

  I hated them.

  Both of them.

  And then Chase lunged.

  I sucked in a startled breath when he gripped Hank by the neck with one hand and walked him backward toward his own police car before slamming him against it. “I’m only going to say this once.” He pulled out his gun and held it to Hank’s temple. “You ever mess with one of my employees again, you’ll be visiting Jesus with your next breath, and you know I won’t stop there. I’m a changed man, Hank. I don’t just take you. I take everything that means something to you. How is your wife, Hank? Your two kids? They still getting straight As in school? That first grade teacher can be a bitch sometimes…”

  Hank shook beneath Chase’s hand. “They’re wonderful. Thank you for the Christmas card last year.”

  “I take care of my own. Don’t I, Hank?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why thank you, Hank.”

  “You’re welcome, sir.”

  “Now, Hank…” He tightened his grip. “…I hate being upset, and I’m feeling really upset right now. Care to ask why?”

  “I arrested an employee. I had no idea. I would never—”

  “Hank—” Chase scratched the back of his neck with the point of the gun. “—take a good hard look at the car she’s driving.”

  Hank looked.

  I gulped.

  “That car cost me a hundred and sixty-five thousand dollars.”

  I swayed on my feet. No wonder it drove so well. Damn thing was like owning my own house.

  “Now…” Chase kept talking. “…do you really think that anyone around these parts owns a car like that?”

  “No, sir, I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t thinking at all.”

  “Been drinking on the job again?”

  Hank gulped.

  “Uh-huh,” Chase smirked. “This is what you’re gonna do, Hank. You’re going to walk over to the lady, apologize to her, and beg her to forgive you, or I’m going to shoot you in the kneecaps to remind you who I am. Pray she’s feeling gracious, because I’m sure as hell not.”

  He released a sick-looking Hank, who moved toward me with a complete different attitude and then, very carefully, got on both knees and looked up at me with tear-filled eyes. “Please forgive me, ma’am. Please.”

  Power filled me.

  Fast, swift.

  I looked over his head to Chase and saw his approval, the way he nodded his head at me, basically saying that it was my call to make.

  My decision.

  This man’s body.

  His life.

  I wasn’t a killer, though.

  I just didn’t realize how addicting the feeling of power would be when given to you by someone who had it all.

  “You were just doing your job,” I whispered. “You’re forgiven.”

  He exhaled and closed his eyes.

  “Go away, Hank…” Chase sighed. “…and tell Janice and the kids hi.”

  Hank stumbled toward his car, jumped inside, and sped off so fast that I blinked and he was gone.

  “Th-thank you,” I whispered.

  Chase made his way toward me, gun still out. Great, now the police officer was gone, and I was on an empty road with a guy who even the law ran from.

  Oh, and I still needed tampons.


  Could my day get any worse?

  “Answer yes or no.” Chase was so close to me I could taste the wine on his breath, the same I’d had earlier. “Were you running?”

  “No,” I said quickly.

  “Yes or no.” He leaned in until his lips grazed my right ear. I sucked in a breath. “Did he touch you?”

  I exhaled slowly and shook my head no. “He just scared me.”

  “Yes or no.” He stayed that way, our cheeks almost pressed together. “Should I kill him for you?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “He has kids.”

  “Everyone has something, Luciana. Kids, a dog, a job, a life — doesn’t mean that people walk through life without getting punished. Some consequences are just bigger.”

  “No, he looked scared enough.”

  “Alright.” Chase’s breath fanned against my neck. Why did he have to be so pretty to look at? Why did I want to reach out and trace the tattoos down his neck into his shirt? “Now, why the hell were you leaving in the middle of a work day?”

  “Lunch break,” I said quickly.

  “There’s food at the house. Try again. This time, don’t lie. I don’t deal well with liars.”

  That was an understatement. My cheeks heated. This was bad, so bad. “I, um, woman’s troubles, and I didn’t prepare for… them. And forgot.”

  Could I be any less eloquent?

  He jerked back like I’d slapped him and then got a funny look on his face before nodding to the car. “Get in. I’ll drive.”

  I didn’t argue.

  He was the type of man a person just listened to.

  And I was too exhausted to argue, to tell him it wasn’t necessary, and to be honest, I was still so freaked out I could pass out at any moment, and doing so at the wheel sounded like another great way to get in trouble.

  Once I buckled up, he peeled out and onto the road.

  And hit a hundred miles an hour right past another cop who waved at him like it was totally normal.

  I shook my head and whispered under my breath, “Who are you?”

  “The devil,” he replied. “Welcome to my hell.”