Pushing Erik backward, Ant’s lip snarls as he says, “I am not a fucking victim, and fuck you for saying that.”
“Calling someone a victim minimizes them and empowers the very people we’re trying to stop,” Bram notes dryly.
Nacho, who’s been watching with horrified fascination, breaks his silence. “Ant is very much a survivor, and you need to get your head around that. Maybe you can remove your head from your ass while you’re there. Or I can remove it for you.”
We’ve had a few conversations on these fencing jobs, and sweet, funny Nacho is also an ex-con who’s used to dealing with powerful, dangerous men. The growling threat in his last sentence is no joke.
Erik holds up his hands and spins toward the front door. Ant’s chin drops to his chest, and he shakes his head.
“Do you think it was easy for your uncle and me to deal with the reality of your cousins?” Anja asks quietly.
She’s talking about Anders and his twin with the weird name. Odd, I think.
Erik pauses at the door, his hand on the knob. “No. I know that was hard.”
“There were two of them, Erik. Two. People always look at my Anders and think he’s the crazy one, but Odd enjoyed the killing just as much. He was simply more reasonable. Even so, do you think there weren’t days they came to us having killed someone in an unfortunate way?”
I shiver to think what it must have been like for two seemingly normal parents to confront the fact that their children were murderous and probably somewhere on the psychopathy spectrum.
Georg snorts. “Why the hell do you think we started using the alligators? That wasn’t in the plan. Getting rid of bodies wasn’t the business we wanted to be in. Staging the bodies made more sense. When they were teenagers, however, the twins didn’t have the control they do now.”
Anja continues, “Sure, we could have wrung our hands, maybe let the justice system take care of them, but they were already going after bad guys. Not the innocent. Do you think we wanted to aim our sons like weapons? No. But we decided to love the boys we had in front of us.”
My head and heart are a swirl of emotions, swinging from being proud of my nephew to being terrified for his safety and freedom to wanting to ban him from any part of this life. Anja’s words, though, are a cold splash of reality.
Erik, however, can’t quite take that step. He shakes his head.
“I can tell you one thing, Erik,” Georg says, keeping a calm tone. “Judging our boys for who they are was never going to be effective. There is no cure for what they are, and you still love them, yes?”
“Of course, Uncle.”
“Yet, despite your history, you stand here, judging Ant.”
“He just admitted to three murders.”
“Were all three bad people?” Anja asks.
Ant darts a look at Erik and then dips his head.
“Were there more than three?” Erik asks, turning back toward the door.
Ant hesitates, but Anja gestures for him to answer Erik’s question.
“Yes.”
Fuck.
“How many?”
“Six.”
“All by yourself?”
Ant nods, looking over at me. My hand goes to my mouth.
“That was very dangerous, sobrino,” I say in Spanish, barely able to keep my voice steady.
Nacho taps his chin. “So…the dates?”
