Wait…no. The fireisKortez’s car.
“Son of a bitch!”
Inching my body out of the door and along the sideof the building, I stay silent until the figure of a man steps out from the shadows, using the fire from my best friend’s car to light his cigarette.
I watch as he takes a deep drag from the cigarette and just stands by the Mustang, watching the car burn to nothing but burnt metal and charred leather. It smells horrible.
People only burn vehicles to get rid of them.
This man knows what happened to Kortez.
I stick to the shadows and sneak around to the front of the building before running across the parking lot and ducking behind the dumpster. The man is only about fifteen feet away now.
He’ll kill me if he catches me, but it’s a risk I have to take. I have to know.
I wait until he goes to take another hit of his cigarette before moving from behind the dumpster, hoping the sound from the burning car and his breathing will mask my footsteps.
When I get about five feet away, I stop and raise the gun. The sound of the safety clicking off has the man freezing with the cigarette halfway from his mouth.
“Who do we have here?” The man’s voice is raspy, rough with smoke inhalation and something more…dangerous.
“I’ll be asking the questions. Why are you burning Kortez’s car?”
The man laughs, “Was that the orphans name? Kor-tez?” He says my best friend’s name slowly, pronouncing each syllable with the ultimate precision.
“Quit fucking around. Why are you burning his car?”
I see the man shake his head at the same moment his free hand starts to move closer to his waistband. “I don’t answer little girls who –“
The gun in my hand jolts as I fire a shot into the man’s leg, bringing him down with a harsh scream. I walk over, my feet, somehow barefoot in the chaos, beginning to bleed as stray bits of glass get stuck in my flesh.
He falls to his back, the blood from his leg making a puddle almost as big as the one in the center of the warehouse. “What the fuck, lady?”
I aim the gun at his other leg, using my bare foot to press down on the bullet wound in his first one. He screams, his eyes flashing as he sees the manic look in my eyes – the one reflected in my smile.
“Why are you burning my best friend’s car?”
The man shakes his head before screaming as my heel digs into the bullet wound. “I don’t know! I’m just a grunt man, I follow orders!”
He chokes off a sob as I ease up the pressure on his leg. “Whose orders?”
“Valente! Mr. Valente. He owns this place; he paid me to clean up his mess.”
Valente. Valente. Valente.
Atlas.
This is Atlas’s warehouse.
Atlas’s mess.
I don’t recognize my voice when I ask, “DidMr. Valentekill someone in that warehouse? Is that why you’re burning the car?”
Again, he tries to stay silent. I don’t have the patience to play games anymore, though. I fire off another bullet, this one into his other leg, and the man’s screams cause a flock of birds to fly off the roof a few buildings over.
When his screams quiet into sobs, I ask him again. “Did Mr. Valente hire you to clean up a murder?”
The man nods, his body turning pale as he shakesbeneath my foot. “Yes.”
