She wondered if she was asking too much of her son, considering his age, and tried to bury her guilt. Not for the choices she’d made, but for the real reason for allowing the talk he and Emma were having. “I’ve had to live with the consequences of my life, Emma, but don’t think you get to walk away unscathed because of what you believe were your noble choices.” Her soft voice never reached the two people now in the middle of an empty pasture.
“I’m sorry, Hayden, for letting you find out about this in this way. As much as I love you, I’ve always been too afraid to tell you.” Her apology was also a prayer the boy wouldn’t walk away too scarred, but today Hayden would get the answer he had wanted for four years.
Two Weeks after Marie Casey’s Death
No one on the street paid attention to the marked police car making a routine stop. In this section of town the men in blue routinely hassled the residents for the smallest infraction, as an excuse to search for something more illegal than failing to use their turn signal. As the patrolman made his way to his door, Danny Baxter studied his face in the rearview mirror to make sure he didn’t have a trace of white powder around his nose.
“Is there a problem, officer?”
“Step out of the vehicle and come with me.” The leather utility belt creaked when the cop placed his hand over the holster near his gun and waited. “Don’t make me say it again,” he added when Danny didn’t move.
They walked to the unit together, and the patrolman held the back door open for him. Danny finally thought to look at the cop’s face. “No fucking way.”
“Come on, idiot. Someone’s waiting to see you,” said Merrick from the backseat. She pointed her gun at his head, and Cain’s other trusted guard Lou pressed his to Danny’s back.
Screaming or begging now would be futile, so he got in, deciding to save the dramatics for later when he could play on Cain’s sympathies. He recognized where they’d stopped and laughed at Cain’s sense of irony. Marie had spent her last tortured hours of life at this dilapidated shotgun house where most of the crackheads came to smoke their scores. Tonight it was quiet, but not for long.
The door lock clicked closed with such ease it belied the condition of the rotted-out building, and Merrick pushed him farther in to where Cain waited. Her boss stood at the rear of the house gazing out the kitchen window at the unkempt yard. In the center of the kitchen was the only piece of unbroken furniture in the place, a green Formica table with stained aluminum trim.
It had taken Cain some time, but she had pieced together where Marie had died. The table had to be the spot Danny used, since she could still see traces of dried blood on one of the legs and at one corner.
“Anyone follow you?” she asked, without turning around.
“Lou was careful. Nobody but the rats know we’re here.” Merrick didn’t lower the gun she had pointed at Danny’s head, motioning for him to move farther into the room. “You ready, boss?”
“You should’ve brought a chair if you’re tired, sweetheart. We’re going to be a while.”
“Who are you fucking kidding?” Danny decided to let his impatience show, hoping it would shorten the time he’d have to spend with his cousin. “Cut the bullshit and hit me some more if you want, but the tough act is crap.”
“Do you know the proper way to kill a goat, Danny?”
Lou, Merrick, and Danny all hiked their brows at the question. Cain wasn’t known for small talk in these situations.
“Lou, how about providing some incentive for him to answer the question.”
Lou delivered a punch to Danny’s left kidney that dropped him to his knees. The pained air escaping from her cousin’s lungs caused Cain to turn around and give him her full attention.
“What’s the answer?”
“How the fuck should I know?” he wheezed. “And why should I give a fuck?”
“That was always your problem, Danny.” Cain put her hands flat on the table and just stared at him. “You grew up never wanting to learn anything. Your aunt Therese married well, and my father was supposed to provide you a gun and a wad of cash for being a wiseguy. That’s what your daddy told you when he was sober enough, isn’t it?”
“My father raised me to be a man. He didn’t have to pretend like Dalton did.” Danny let out another long stream of air when Lou kicked his other kidney. No matter what, he wasn’t going to scream like he had the first time he found himself at the end of Cain’s ire.
“You think having a pair between your legs makes you a man?” Cain took a pair of leather gloves from her back pocket and started to put them on. “Or because you’re strong enough to make a woman do your bidding proves you’re superior?”
“You’ll never measure up to me, admit it. You need these assholes to hold me down to show how strong you are.”
“Help the man up, Lou,” she said.
Danny massaged his side when he got to his feet and glared at Cain. All of them could see he was getting angry.
“Just you and me, so show me. Show me what kind of man you are.”
He lunged for her, obviously hoping to knock her down with his momentum, but she moved at the last second, sending Danny’s head through the glass of the dirty window behind her. When he turned, blood was already running down his cheek. Her fist halted his next lunge when he got close enough. The blow to his nose made Danny double over and spit out a sudden spurt of blood.
When his head whipped back from the kick she delivered, she could hear the gurgle in his throat as he landed on his back. “Give up already?” She stood over him, careful to stay away from the spray coming from his mouth when Danny started coughing. “You should try a little harder, since we’ll be here until you beg me to kill you.”
“Fuck you.”
The insult only made her laugh. “Given any more thought to my question?” Cain waved Lou over and pointed to her cousin.
During the sleepless nights after Marie’s murder, she had spent the time thinking of how she was going to kill Danny. Many thought revenge didn’t squelch the pain. Cain, though, was more concerned with responsibility than with revenge. Danny would pay with his life for what he had done.
As the head of her family, she was responsible for seeing that he did. She couldn’t erase the pain of loss, but she could take some comfort in knowing Danny was burning in hell and she had stamped his one-way ticket. Yet she hoped she wasn’t becoming the type of person Emma had accused her of being four years earlier.
“Playtime’s over. For you anyway,” she said.
Behind her Merrick grabbed the length of rope hanging from the ceiling with a loop at one end.
While the guards had been out earlier picking Danny up, Cain had added one new fixture to the house. She had screwed a brass ring into one of the support beams over the doorway; it was so new it looked almost out of place. Pointing at it, she said, “My grandfather told me how his father had various methods for slaughtering different animals on their farm in Ireland.”
“I thought Dalton always bragged about how you come from a long line of bootleggers?” After he asked the question, Danny winced as Lou locked his hands in the cuffs again.
“A man can’t live on whiskey. You need a good stew to help you keep drinking.”
“What in the hell does that have to do with me?” asked Danny.
Tying one end around Danny’s ankles, Lou gave the rope a good tug pitching Danny forward, slamming his chest and face into the floor. Lou kept pulling until Danny was hanging upside down from the ceiling. With his head even with Cain’s waist, he could see perfectly what she was taking out of her pocket. The old switchblade had belonged to Dalton and had been one of the last gifts he’d given her before his death.
“What does that have to do with you?” she repeated his question. “Plenty.” The tip of her blade rested at the opening of Danny’s shirt. “You’re nothing but an animal, cousin, so that’s how I’m going to deal with you.”