Exhaling, I willed myself to sit up, even trying to bring the drink to my lips. But…
As the glass slipped from my hand, I knew that something was wrong.
Something was terribly wrong.
Thunk…
“I’m sorry,Mr. Dmitriyev. We’ve been unable to find any evidence of the shooter’s identity.”
“Are you fucking out of your mind?” I lunged forward and had my hand around the detective’s throat before I knew what I was doing. “You fucking asshole. You incompetent son of a bitch.”
“Sasha. Stop, son. Stop. It’s not his fault.” My father jerked me away, pulling me across the room while my uncle tried to explain that I was in a state of grief that made my emotions uncontrollable.
“Then whose fault is it? Huh, Dad? Who? The police can’t find anything. We haven’t found out anything. This is crap. This is fucking crap.”
My father wasn’t the kind of man to go soft on anything and didn’t take crap no matter the situation. He slammed me against the wall by the shoulders, holding me there and daring me with his eyes to start a fight with him. If I did, it would be one I’d lose, my bloodied body crumpling on the stained tile floor.
“Listen to me. You need to suck it up, my son. There’s an old saying in Russia that I’ve never forgotten.Istoriya boli i skorbi—eto ne konets. Eto tol’ko nachalo. Rukoy krovi budut napisany novyye glavy.”
The story of pain and sorrow isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning. There are additional chapters to be written by the hand of blood.
After he said the words, he nodded only once. I had no idea what the fuck he was trying to tell me and at that moment, I just didn’t care.
All I knew is that one day I would find the person responsible for killing my wife.
And they would die.
“Fuck,”I hissed, wincing the moment I tried and failed to open my eyes. Whatever the light source, it was blinding.
Shielding my eyes, I realized every muscle in my body ached. What the hell? My mouth was cotton dry. I sat up and was hit hard by a wall of nausea. After blinking a few times, I squinted until I realized the light was bright sunlight. Bright as if it were late morning.
What the fuck?
I jerked to my feet and as soon as I did, I came close to stumbling over the table. How the fuck much had I had to drink?
The bottle was right there. I jerked it into my hand. The bottle had already been opened a day before and maybe three glasses had been consumed. My tolerance was much higher. Something caught my eye and I realized I’d dropped the glass.
Also not like me.
The carpet was wet, which meant there’d been liquid in the glass when it fell. A sick feeling slammed through me and I lunged away from the table, my body refusing to work properly. Even my breathing was labored. What in the hell? The house was quiet. Too quiet.
The door leading to the deck was still open.
I turned around, immediately on edge. Something was terribly wrong.
Where the fuck had I put my weapon? I tore through the room, finally remembering I’d placed it in the drawer of the desk. It was undisturbed, the magazine fully loaded. Stepping outside, I scanned the beach. Was it possible the girls had sensed I’d had too much to drink and had allowed me to sleep it off?
My instinct told me otherwise.
Because I hadn’t consumed too much alcohol. My body stiffened. Something was definitely off, my dry mouth as unusual as the heavy throbbing in my temples.
I moved quickly toward the door, hugging the wall. With a quick dart of my head into the hall and seeing nothing, I stepped out into the hallway, heading for the stairs. The front door was cracked open.
With the weapon in both hands, I moved quickly, throwing open the door and inching outside. There were sounds of nature coming from every direction. Even the rush of the ocean slicing against the shore could be heard from the front of the house.
The two rental cars were still in the front driveway. Where the fuck was Tony? He’d been on shift or maybe Bernie had taken over. Fuck. My brain was a mess.
This was all wrong. I backed up toward the house, sweeping the weapon from side to side. The sun suddenly reflected off something metal and I swung around, prepared to fire.
