to the edge of the bed. “Give me the pills.”
His surrender was even sweeter than I’d expected.
I held the bottle out before snatching it back at the last second. “First, you need to wire everything from your offshore accounts.” At his hesitation, I shook my head. “Even now you’re a greedy asshole. What’re you going to do with the money? Be buried with it?”
Danielson had the nerve to look thoughtful, as if the idea held merit. After a long moment, he must’ve realized he was no pharaoh, but he was still a greedy asshole. “Why should I? The destruction is done. My life is over.”
“Think of it as penance for your soul.” Despite him sitting his hypocritical ass in the front pew every Sunday, that wasn’t incentive enough for him. “And if you give it away, your wife and your business partner that she’s fucking won’t get anything.”
Pettiness did what penance couldn’t. He picked up his phone and worked his way through the list, that time emptying out everything. Within seconds of his transfers, the money had already bounced around countless times, becoming untraceable and ensuring it went to his victims rather than being held up in court for years.
“Done,” he said, dropping his buzzing phone like it physically burned him to do the right thing.
With his side of the bargain complete, I tossed him the pills.
He bobbled the catch, the bottle hitting the ground with a rattle. Even once he grabbed it, he didn’t open it. He stared at it, spinning it back and forth. If he dragged his feet any longer, the cops would show before we got to the fun part.
“They’re not going to swallow themselves,” I prompted.
“Is there really no other way?” he whispered.
Had he been an innocent man, and had my heart not been black, the pain in his voice would’ve been almost moving. Since neither of those applied, it was just grating.
“Do you have a time machine?” I asked.
He scowled at me. “How could you be so heartless?”
Another bitter laugh burst from me. “I know what was on those screenshots. I’ve heard what you’ve done. You don’t deserve my sympathy. You don’t even deserve the mercy of a quick death.” I shifted away from the wall and lifted my shoulder. “I’ll leave you here to wait for the police.”
I reached for the knob, but before I could touch it, he shouted, “Wait!”
A cruel smile slashed across my face. I hid it before turning back.
His sweating, shaking hands struggled to open the bottle. Finally getting the lid off, he glanced down at the contents before looking up at me. “Will you stay?”
Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.
“Yes,” I agreed, my voice even.
Danielson sat frozen for a moment until sirens sounded in the distance. It wasn’t planned, and they weren’t even police sirens, but it was the push he needed to down the capsules with a few frantic, choking swallows. Once it was done, he collapsed onto the mattress, sobbing and chanting prayers to a god who would never listen to a man like him.
Never once did he offer apologies.
Never once did he show remorse.
Like in life, his final thoughts were for himself. Which was why it was so gratifying when the pills kicked in.
Because what I’d said earlier was true. Alfred Danielson didn’t deserve a quick death. Nor did he deserve a painless one.
“Something’s wrong,” he gasped seconds before he cried out.
If the pills were doing their job—and, based on his groans of suffering, they were—his insides would feel as if they were being torn apart by tiny, fiery jigsaws. Ripping and tearing and burning every inch of him.
That was what he deserved.
Leaning back against the wall, I enjoyed his torment.
I savored each tear.
Each thrash.
Each anguished cry.
And especially his last rattling, agonized breath.
Grabbing his wallet, I pocketed one of his business cards along with the notecard of account numbers. I took one last look at Alfred Danielson, his face frozen in pain even in death.
Pills weren’t my favorite method. Too impersonal. Too detached.
But I couldn’t deny they’d been the right choice for him.
The familiar satisfaction filled me as I headed home to add his business card to the rest.
This was a good one.
_______________
IT WAS TIME.
For nearly a week, I’d watched my already broken Briar fall apart. If she’d been closed off before, she’d become a fortress. Completely pulled away from the few people she let in. Even work didn’t seem to bring her any happiness.
Her schedule stayed the same—the shelter, the center, or