“What the hell do we do, man?” I ask Josh, finally returning to the conversation. “Trent’s everywhere, and it’s just us trying to go against him. Talk about an uphill struggle…”
“Hey, we’ll be fine,” he says. “Like it or not, we’ve got Manhattan fighting our corner for the time being. I’m still working away at assaulting his finances, and there’s no one he can throw at us that we can’t beat. We just need to pick our fights, choose our moments wisely, and not get caught out. It’s a numbers game, and it’s sometimes easier to win five small fights than one big one.”
I rub my temples, and then massage the base of my neck, where a tension headache that feels like a thousand knives has settled in for the long haul.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I acknowledge. “I’m just frustrated because whatever direction we seem to turn, that bastard has already made his presence felt, meaning we’re doing nothing put poke an already pissed off bear.”
We fall silent again. I figure Josh probably feels the same way I do — that we’re just going around in circles and accomplishing nothing except giving our enemy more reason to want us dead.
Another twenty minutes pass before Josh speaks again.
“Okay, we’ve been traveling long enough that I can tell you and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he says.
I look over at him, confused. “Tell me what?” I ask.
“We’re taking a detour.”
I frown and look out of the window again — this time paying attention to where we are and trying to figure out where he’s taking me.
Josh remains silent as I look around for road signs. Heading to Pittsburgh, I’d expect us to be on I-78, but we’re not. I wait another couple of minutes before finally seeing a sign I recognize… It’s telling me how far along the I-476 we are…
I sigh. I know exactly where he’s taking me.
“Josh, you don’t need to do this,” I say.
“I think I do, Boss,” he replies. “I know this is hard, but I think you need reminding why we’re here and to get your head back in the game.”
Just over an hour later, we enter Philadelphia. We cross the Delaware River and, after a couple of minutes stuck in some light traffic, we turn right on 46th Street and pull up outside a large, detached white and gray house.
My old family home.
Josh gets out of the Winnebago without a word and stands on the sidewalk, looking at the house. It takes me a minute to join him; a flurry of emotion explodes inside my head like a thunderstorm.
I haven’t seen the house since the day I left. Not since the day I found my wife and daughter murdered on the kitchen floor.
I take a deep breath.
“You alright?” he asks me.
I nod.
“You pissed off at me?”
I shake my head and smile weakly, momentarily lost for words as the occasion proves too much for me.
“Good. This… this is why you’re here, Adrian,” he says, pointing at the house. “No matter how shitty things might look, we both know you will not let your girls down.”
My whole body relaxes, and I stand staring at my old home, a numbing sensation washing over me. I look at the windows, in desperate need of cleaning… the car parked on the drive with a baby seat in the back… the front lawn with the same rosebush that I’d planted the day after me and Janine moved in, still growing strong…
Josh has paced away slowly and aimlessly out of respect, giving me a moment or two alone. As I stare at the place, the image of how it used to look when I lived there bleeds through from the depths of my mind. It gives me a glimpse into the past; a happier time, before my demons had consumed me… before I was so passionate and serious about being a killer… when I had genuine love in my life.
A voice drifts into my thoughts, causing the image to evaporate in front of my eyes.
“Huh?” I say, absently.
“Adrian? Is that you?”
I shake my head to regain total focus and turn to my right. There’s an old man standing next to me, staring at me with a look of disbelief. He’s much shorter than me, with thin, gray hair and light brown eyes. He’s easily eighty years old, dressed in suit pants, with a sweater vest over a white shirt and striped tie.
I frown at him for a moment, confused… Do I know him?
Oh shit — yeah, I do… he’s my old neighbor! Jesus… he remembers me?
What the hell was his name?
“It is you, isn’t it?” he asks again, his voice frail and cracked.
“It’s me,” I confirm after a moment.
“Well, I’ll be… we thought you were dead,” he says. “After what happened… there was a lot of talk from folks ‘round here for a long time afterward…”
He lets his words trail off before extending his hand. I look down and shake it. He nods to me. “It was a goddamn tragedy what happened here,” he says. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
I take a deep breath before letting go of his hand. “Thank you,” I say, eventually. “I appreciate that.”
“If I may,” he starts. “What happened to you? The police were round here for weeks after they found… well, no one knew where you were — I think you were a suspect at first, but then word got round that you’d died too and over time, the matter was simply dropped. Another unsolved crime…”
“I bet,” I reply, unable to hide the disdain in my voice. “I left town when I found them. I… I knew who was responsible, and I knew the police wouldn’t do anything. I got scared, and I ran.”
The old man purses his lips together as he processes what I’ve just told him. Then he holds a finger up at me and leans forward slightly to speak.
“Don’t you dare feel fuckin’ sorry for yaself, son.”
I can’t hide my surprise at his candidness, and he undoubtedly sees the look on my face.
“Everyone knew who was to blame,” he continues, gesturing to the houses around him. “I tell ya, he thinks he fuckin’ runs this state. Goddamn police in his pocket, literally got away with murder.” He spits on the ground as he takes a breath and coughs. “Makes me sick!” He looks me up and down, as if he’s judging me. “You back to bury that sonofabitch?” he asks.
Josh appears next to me, and I quickly look at him before answering.
“What makes you think I’d be able to do something like that?” I ask, cautiously.
“Ah, don’t gimme that crap,” he says, making a dismissive gesture with this hand. “I’ve lived here nearly sixty years. Seen all kindsa things and all kindsa folks. I never miss nothin’, Adrian.”
I know what he’s saying without him having to spell it out to me. He knew all along what I did for a living, and why Trent attacked my family. I don’t know how he knows — I guess he’s very observant in his spare time.
I hold his gaze for a moment, but say nothing. After a moment, he simply nods.
“Good. That bastard deserves everything he’s got coming to him. So, where you staying? Somewhere local?”
“In Pittsburgh, actually,” I say. “I’ve just been seeing an acquaintance over in Allentown while I was around these parts.”
“Well, if you’re ever around here again, you make sure you call in for a coffee. Or something stronger.”
“That’s very kind of you,” I say, extending my hand, which he shakes. “But to be honest, I don’t think I’ll be back around here again for a long time.”
He looks at Josh briefly, giving him a curt nod, and then walks uneasily back to his house.
“What was that about?” Josh asks.
“My old neighbor was giving me his blessing to kill Wilson Trent,” I reply.