Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Frankie nods and lights another cigarette on the butt of his first. “You know what I always loved about you, Stellan? You act tough and cold, but you’re fair. And you’ve got compassion. You don’t like showing it, but I know you do.”
“Start fucking digging.”
“The family’s gonna be in better shape with you leading it. I probably should’ve just told you the truth.”
“Dig, Frankie.” Rage hits me, blinding and hot. “Dig, you fucking traitor. You were my friend. Fucking dig.”
Frankie throws the cigarette at me. He dives to the side, reaching behind his back as he falls. He draws his weapon in one fluid, practiced motion.
I shoot him in the head. His finger squeezes and the gun goes off, but the bullet hits a tree ten feet to my left.
His corpse hits the ground in a spray of blood and brain.
I put another bullet in his chest, kick away his gun, and stand over his corpse.
My friend.
He fucking betrayed me. Then he tried to kill me to save his own worthless ass.
Pathetic.
I hate him so much it hurts. It fucking hurts. I turn away and have to stomp out a small fire starting in the pine needles.
I think about digging a hole.
But to hell with that.
Whatever lives out here in the barrens, they'll eat well tonight.
I grab his shovel and start back to the car.
My phone rings when I get close to the road. Kira's name is on the screen. I answer it, balancing the shovel in one hand.
“I’ve been thinking,” she says without greeting me. “About our mutual problem.”
“Climate change?”
“Don’t be funny. You sound out of breath.”
“Just out for a hike.”
She pauses. “Okay, right. Whatever. So, the Turks are here to get the book, right? But you can’t move it because you don’t have the key. Which means all we have to do is find the key, put the book in a more secure location, and the Turks won’t have any leverage.”
I grunt, adjusting the shovel. “And now that the mole is dead, they won’t have a fresh stream of information.”
Another long silence. “Frankie?”
“Don’t feel bad for him. He was a fucking prick in the end.”
“We need the key. That’ll fix everything.”
“You offering to help?”
“I mean, it was my dad who took it, so I feel like I owe it to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Kira.”
“Well, I have some ideas too. What are you doing later?”
“My schedule’s clear now.”
“Great.” She clears her throat uncomfortably. “Come pick me up at home. Where are you?”
“The pine barrens.”
“In Jersey? With that devil thing?”
“It’s not so bad, honestly. I kind of like it here.”
“Great, pitch a tent and stay.”
“I’ll see you in an hour.”
KIRA
Istand in the apartment and survey the place. Stellan lingers beside me, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.
“It looks so… cheap.” I frown a little. “And dingy.”
“It is cheap and dingy. Remember how you worked two jobs?”
“Oh, right.” I glance at him. “You’re still giving everyone here a break, right?”
“For as long as they want to stay.”
“Good.” I stretch my legs and twist my back. “I’ll visit everyone later. But for now, we’re going to rip this place to shreds, right?”
He grins. “Sounds fun. I’m good at that.”
We get to work. He starts in the kitchen and I go to the living room. When I first moved in here, I brought most of our stuff from the old house with us. Mom's stuff got mixed up in the bunch, plus some things from back in my father’s day.
It stands to reason that Dad hid the key somewhere he knew. It could've been taped to the back of a chair or shoved under a rug. Or maybe sewn into a cushion on the couch.
I don't know, but we’re going to find out.
It's hard work destroying my life. And actually pretty cathartic. I’m still mad at my mom for what she did, but each new stab of the knife into the couch makes me feel a little better. I keep imagining it’s her face I’m cutting in half.
“Nothing out here,” I say after meticulously going over every inch. “I’m trying the bedroom.”
“I’ll be in shortly.” His head is in the cabinets, looking around. “Almost done.”
The bed gets it next. The mattress is old. It could've been from my dad's time; I don't really know. I cut into that fucker with a vengeance. Springs and stuffing jut out like the guts of a murder victim. I shove my hands inside, looking for anything metallic and hard that's not supposed to be there, but nothing turns up. I go over every inch of the frame, the dressers, and even the closet.
Stellan helps. We don't find a damn thing.
After a couple of hours, I sit on the floor in the living room, exhausted. He sits beside me, hand on my leg, pulling from a bottle of beer. I snatch it from him and take a drink myself, just to wet my throat.