gonna try and check up on me every goddamn day? I can’t have him breathing down my neck when I have to play a part. That means staying in character the entire time. “Might be tricky to reach out with what I have planned, but I’ll check in when I can,” I tell him to get him off my back.
Malcolm gives me his nod of agreement, and then I’m out of there before anyone starts demanding to know my plan or trying to change my mind. I’ve already started my mental list of shit to do. Now I’m going to do it.
The first thing on the list?
It’s high time to finally pay a visit to my dear old dad. Now is the perfect time. I’ve been waiting for this moment for years, the day when I can finally make him pay for what he did, what he took from me.
Before, I wasn’t sure if I had it in me to take another man’s life. But after what went down at Cox’s house, it turned out that I had my father’s blood flowing through my veins all along. I’m a natural born killer. A monster. Pulling the trigger and watching the life drain out of those men’s eyes was the easiest thing I have ever done. The only part that rattled me wasn’t the lack of guilt, but the pleasure afterward. I liked being a murderous bastard. Loved it, actually. So much so that I could almost forgive my father for what he did.
The thing is, though, the men I ended deserved to die, while my father prefers to steal the lives of innocent women.
Chapter Three
Cora
* * *
Ever since the detectives had me come in to pick the murder suspect out of a lineup, I’ve had this feeling I’m being watched. A few days ago, I called and told Detective Rollins that someone in a purple Prius was following me to work and home. She actually laughed at me and told me I was just being paranoid. She said if a crew of thugs on motorcycles start following me, then she would be concerned.
I should’ve known those bastards wouldn’t give a shit about me or my safety now that I helped them make an arrest!
I haven’t seen the purple Prius recently, but I also haven’t left the house in three days. It’s not just that I’m scared. All the stress of getting pressured by the detectives, reliving that horrible night, seeing one of the men who killed someone in front of me, and fearing that his friends will come after me, it’s all made me physically ill! What started out as a bad cold turned into a raging ear infection. After several doses of antibiotics I can hear again, but still don’t feel like getting out of bed. Thankfully, the doctor also gave me some sleep aids and anxiety meds to try and stop my panic attacks after I admitted to being stressed due to the court case.
Even though I’ve started feeling a little better, I’m still wallowing, using my sickness to stay home and out of work. I know that, yet I can’t find the energy or willpower to get my ass up to leave the house or even move. I don’t have a clue what I should do. In fact, I was so distraught, that I called my absentee parents to ask their opinion on whether or not they thought I was safe or if I should pack up and leave town, only to be told I should stop watching so many crime dramas.
That’s actually more parental guidance than I ever received as a child. I was actually shocked that my mother took a minute out of her busy day to take my phone call. Granted, I had to call nine times in one hour before she picked up, but she could’ve easily just kept ignoring me.
What it all boils down to is that I don’t have the money to up and move right now. I’ve got a decent job at Donatello’s even though I still have a boss and have to follow a strict menu night after night. At least it pays well, and I get to live rent free in my parents’ unused beach house. That means more money is going toward the never-ending debt hanging over my head. So, if I have to suck it up and go back to work in a few days once I’m no longer coughing up a lung or going through