His brows knitted together as he studied me. “Why do you have her phone, Dad? What’s going on?”
I took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to handle this while driving toward Stephanie’s house. “Listen, it’s complicated. Just…let’s talk about it when we get to your house. Right now, I need you to trust me.”
But suspicion was growing wildly in his eyes. “She’s missing,” he said as if he were putting the pieces together. “I heard yousaying that Mia has been doing all of this crazy stuff to Avi. We need to get this phone to the—”
His words lodged in his throat when I reached over and snatched the phone from his grip. As I sped through the city, I could feel Jeremy looking at me curiously, watching me unravel.
Jeremy picked up his phone from his lap, and I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach.
I tried to hide my panic as I asked him, “What are you doing?”
“Checking my text messages,” he replied defiantly. “Why do you have Mia’s phone, Dad? I don’t understand why you won’t answer the question.”
Frustration was building up inside me, ready to explode. He was so fucking disobedient and hardheaded. He had no idea of the severity of the situation or the lengths I would go to to hide the truth.
“Jeremy, put your phone down,” I gritted.
“Why?”
“Put your fucking phone down, Jeremy!”
He backed away, looking confused as my anger erupted like a storm.
I pulled into an alley as I tried to figure out my next move. Overwhelmed, I snatched Jeremy’s phone from his hands. He looked at me with confusion clouding his eyes.
He was so green, so confused. He had the audacity to try to take the phone back. I pushed him into his seat, holding him by the collar of his shirt.
“Stop, Dad. Let me go. What’s your problem?” he shot back, pushing against me.
We began to tussle. The struggle escalated as I fought to keep control. I was so desperate. This wasn’t just about the phone anymore; it was about protecting my freedom, my life. I couldn’t let him expose me. I had to end this before it spiraled further outof control. If anyone found out that I had this phone, it would connect me to Mia.
Suddenly, it felt as if my soul had detached from my body, hovering somewhere above while I was lost in desperation and rage. My hands found Jeremy’s throat, and I squeezed, my fingers curling around his flesh like a vice.
Tears pooled in my eyes, blurring my vision, but I couldn’t look away. I felt the frantic thump of his pulse against my grip, the hysterical struggle for air as I tightened my hold. I could feel his esophagus beneath my fingers, the soft flesh giving way to the pressure.
Even as I choked the breath from him, Jeremy’s eyes remained locked on mine, filled with confusion and trust, as if he believed I would come to my senses, that I would stop before it was too late. But the panic in me drowned out that glimmer of hope. Each desperate gasp he took only fueled my rage, and I squeezed tighter, feeling his body begin to go slack.
I could taste my tears as they slid out of my eyes, down my cheeks, and between my lips. I didn’t want to kill my own son, but he’d made me do it. Still, I wanted to stop myself, but the fear of being caught for Mia’s murder was stronger. Jeremy now knew too much. If he told anyone about this phone, he would open up a can of worms that would never close.
Finally, Jeremy’s body went limp.
Suddenly, my adrenaline skyrocketed. I jumped out of the car and rounded the trunk. I flung open the passenger door. Jeremy’s unconscious body tumbled out. It hit the dirty gravel with a sickening thud.
My breath quickened as I scanned the alley. Luckily, it was empty and quiet.
I lurched toward the glove compartment, yanked it open, and took out my gun.
I began to pace. I groaned in frustration as I struggled to come to terms with what I felt I had to do. But I couldn’t turn back now. I had to do what I had to do.
I banged my fists against the sides of my head. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with sweat. I wasn’t crying because I had killed my son. These were tears of anger because he had forced my hand.
Finally, I paused, taking a deep breath to get my shit together. With tears still streaming down my face, I turned toward my son. I gnawed on my bottle lip as I aimed the gun at him.
To make it look like the usual violence of the inner city had taken his life, I put two bullets in his head.
I let out a guttural groan as his blood started to spill on the gravel surrounding him. I bent down, resting my hands on my knees. But I couldn’t get caught for this either, so I sprinted back to the open driver’s side door. I quickly slid inside, unable to catch my breath. My leg was shaking uncontrollably as I floored the gas pedal and tore out of the alley and into the street.
CHAPTER 12
