Well, I didn’t care. I just didn’t care. I’d hold my fire for a moment while I saw if it was really the cops or not, what the hell could that hurt.
They came in and I held my fire.
It was Vin and two others and Vin fired an automatic and a tongue of flame came out of the end of it and settled in Suzie’s right breast.
She didn’t have time to say anything before she died.
I saw Vin coming at me starting to say something and I remembered what he’d told me and I raised the .32 and aimed.
The bullet went in his forehead and he died much too quickly.
They have left me in this room, unguarded and untied. They figure me too much a coward to make a break for it or try suicide. Or maybe just too unimaginative to kill myself with a bunch of wooden crates. And they think it’s amusing to make me share the room with the corpse of a woman whom I might have loved.
Dawn came, went.
They haven’t caught me writing on this notepad with this felt-tip yet, unless they know and think it’ll keep me out of trouble. I’ve been writing for hours now and it must be mid-morning. I have to write small but I have to write. I have to get it all said so I can leave it here where someone might find it and go after the men who’ve done these things.
One of them came in a while ago, one I hadn’t seen before, and asked me some things; in the process, he explained some of it. Most of it came out like Suzie and I had figured, but some of the details would never be revealed to me. Some of it had died with Vin.
I still don’t know for sure who these bastards are, but it’s safe to say they’re with the Mob or something. Hard to tell. Writing so small like this in the dark and all gets my head going off in different directions.
I have to write all the time and not stop much because when I do I look over at Suzie. And she’s dead.
A couple of them came in and were arguing about what exactly to do with me. One just wanted me dead, another was still trying to figure a way to use me to cement the cracks Suzie and I made in their plans. I get the feeling we really fouled up things up for them. That’s some reward, I guess, but damn little.
I wonder if the real Suzie Stewart is dead or alive?
Not that it really matters. None of it really matters, does it? Not now.
Karen? Is that you, Karen?
No?
Suzie? Suzie.
Hell, I like you better, anyway, Suzie.
They’re coming now, Suzie, I hear them in that other room, the one beyond this one, I hear them, Suzie and they’re—