I studied him. Looked at this pathetic man who'd thought loyalty to Marcus was more important than his own survival.
"You should've stayed quiet," I said.
Then I pulled the trigger. The shot was muffled by the suppressor. Eddie dropped, and I stood there for a moment, making sure he was dead. I watched as the blood pooled beneath him and life drained from his eyes.
“I guess you won’t be talking after all.”
Then I searched the apartment, found his phone, and deleted any evidence of his police visit or anything else that he might have had in it. Our cop would handle the rest, make it look like a robbery gone wrong. I dropped his phone into the coffee pot on my way out, never to think about the sorry son of a bitch ever again.
Now to go see Tony.
Tony Brennan’s house was easy to find. Blue with a white fence, just like Eddie said. I parked down the street and watched. It was late afternoon now, and the scene in front of me was almost painfully normal. A man in his thirties playing in the yard with three young kids. A little girl, maybe six, and two boys who looked like twins, probably four. They were laughing, running around, completely carefree.
Through the window, I could see a woman in the kitchen. His wife, presumably. I watched for over an hour. Watched Tony throw a ball with his sons. Watched him push his daughter on a swing set. Watched him scoop his daughter up and carry herinside while the boys ran in front of him, their giggles carrying on the air.
Something in my chest tightened. I thought about my own biological father. He was Olek's father too, though he'd never acknowledged me. Never claimed me. I'd been the bastard son, the reminder of an affair, someone to be hidden away. We didn’t have a relationship at all.
My mother got married when I was sixteen to a good man named Viktor who'd treated me like his own son. Who'd taught me how to fix cars, throw a punch, and be a man. It was his last name that I took. Borisov. My mother adopted it as well. He'd died three years later. Heart attack. Sudden and brutal.
Losing him had been worse than never having a father at all. Because I'd known, briefly, what it was like to be wanted. To be loved by a father figure. To have that and lose it had nearly destroyed me. I’d found my way eventually and because of him. I’d even been able to accept Olek as my brother when he came looking for me, something that I wouldn’t have been able to do before my Viktor came into my life. My true father. Fuck the man who’s seed I came from.
I looked at Tony Brennan's house. To those kids who adored their father. At the life they had and I couldn't do it. Couldn't take their father away and make those children feel the loss I'd felt. But I also couldn't leave loose ends. So I waited. Watched as the lights in the kids' rooms went out one by one. Watched as Tony and his wife settled on the couch to watch TV.
Then, around ten, Tony came outside and his wife was upstairs in bed. Alone. Probably to smoke or just get some air. I made my move. He didn't see me until I was right behind him, my gun pressed to his spine.
"Inside," I said quietly. "Don't make a sound. Don't wake your family."
He stiffened but obeyed, moving back into the house. I guided him to the kitchen, and stayed at an angle that allowed me to see both into the house and outside.
"Sit," I commanded.
He sat at the kitchen table, his hands shaking. "Please, I have kids. I have a wife. Please don’t kill me." He had the good sense to keep his voice low. Maybe he was the smart one like Eddie had said.
"I know you didn't talk to the cops about that murder that went down." I pulled out the gun and knife I'd used on Marcus. Placed them on the table between us. "But your friend Eddie did. And now he's dead."
Tony’s face went white. “And now it’s my turn?”
"You have a choice, Tony." I leaned against the counter. "You can die tonight. Quick, painless. Your family will think it was a home invasion. Tragic, but they'll move on eventually."
"Please—"
"Or," I continued, "you can live. But here's the deal. You're going to pick up that gun and that knife. Put your fingerprints all over them. And if any information about Marcus's murder ever surfaces, these weapons are going to turn up. With your prints on them. You'll go to jail for two murders, actually, since this is also the gun I used on Eddie."
Tony stared at the weapons, then at me. "You're giving me a choice?"
"I'm giving you a chance. More than Eddie got." I straightened. "Your kids need their father, Tony. I'm not going to take that away from them. But you need to understand that your silence isn't optional. It's mandatory. And if you break it, you'll spend the rest of your life in prison while your kids grow up thinking you're a monster."
He picked up the gun with shaking hands, then the knife. Held them for a moment, making sure his prints were clear.
"I won't say anything," he whispered. "I swear to God, I won't say anything."
"Good." I took the weapons back, wrapping them carefully. "A cop will be by tomorrow to interview you about Eddie’s statement. You tell him you don't know anything about any murder. That Eddie must have been confused or lying. You haven't seen him in days. Understand?"
"Yes."
"And Tony?" I leaned in close. "If you ever change your mind, if you ever grow a conscience, remember what's at stake. Not just your freedom. Your family. Your kids' future. Everything you love. Gone."
He nodded, tears streaming down his face. He swallowed and then looked me in the eye. “I don’t even know what murder you’re talking about.”
